#There will be four types of grill

[maxli-catenby]

We need to implement communism just so we can have fewer SKUs of retail products

[flavorcountry]

I got a cold and watched that Jenny Nicholson video about the Star Wars hotel (it's very good) and fully lost my mind: even after experiencing a comprehensive four-hour deconstruction of why it didn't work for Star Wars, I still think a version of this would absolutely work for Star Trek. Take my hand and walk with me on my journey into madness, where I have infinite money, talent, and team to make it all happen!!

Overall vibe

If you want to make a hotel/resort experience that takes place inside a fake spaceship, I still think Star Trek is the way to go: so much of Star Trek takes place on ships, and we've seen the rooms are pretty nice!! Like the Star Wars one, my Star Trek hotel is also a simulated starship, but with better rooms and more fun stuff to do.

Are you ready for this shit

Can you tell I drew this myself

You'll arrive at Farpoint Station,* where the concierge checks you in and your luggage gets whisked away by station staff. Gift shop's also here. When you're checked in and ready to head to your room, you're brought to one of several transporter rooms. If you never went to the Star Trek Experience at the Vegas Hilton when it was active, I am truly sorry for you, because they had a ride whose boarding process included getting beamed away: you and your pals were herded into a zone where you were clearly meant to board a run-of-the-mill 20th-century simulator ride, and then there were jets of mist and a sound and suddenly you were in a transporter room on board the goddamn USS Enterprise NCC-1701-D. It was fucking magical and I never, ever want it explained to me. Anyway, that's what happens to you at my Star Trek hotel: you step onto a transporter pad and get beamed from Farpoint to a Galaxy-class Federation starship. Exit the transporter room and walk down the ship's corridor to take the turbolifts to Cargo Bay 1, where a "temporary muster point" has been set up (this is where the guest services desks will be), or just follow the lit-up companel signs to your cabin. Yes, it will look like guest quarters aboard the Enterprise-D, more or less — maybe a little smaller — but it'll have the carpet, the plant, the glass coffee table, and most importantly a window that looks out into space.

Or!!! If you booked the resort, keep heading down the hallway and take another turbolift to a different section of the ship where the holodeck entrances are. The holodecks, naturally, are running a Risa program, so you walk through the doors and under the arch and suddenly you're outdoors looking at a beautiful landscape with a pool and whatnot, plus the resort accommodations where the more conventional fancy rooms are, and also the restaurants and entertainment venues, all themed. There's a Quark's. There's a Klingon bar and grill. A Bolian salon/spa. Talaxian arcade?? Nausicaan axe-throwing pit?!?! Come on!!!!!!!!!

Here, have a floor plan

Key learnings

Two things stuck out to me that the Star Wars hotel fucked up that I think the Star Trek version can do better:

🤷‍♀️ LARP too complicated: Give 'em credit where it's due, the Star Wars hotel fucking swung for the fences trying to make a multi-hero story guests could integrate with, but it just didn't work. Technical failures! Possible conceptual flaws! Too much stuff packed into the schedule!

The fix: Just make it mostly a hotel most of the time. One or two weekends a month, there's a two-day fully-immersive LARP adventure that people explicitly book separately, and it's more expensive (more on that later). But at all times, hotel staff will be in uniform with division colors that make sense: concierge and guest relations in red, support and janitorial in gold, teal for any medical personnel. I think that means the people working in food services have to wear that plaid/vest combo the Ten-Forward staff have on, but there are certainly worse outfits.

🌴 No resort: The food at the Star Wars hotel was good, but there was no pool and no other luxury resort type stuff to do. It didn't sound relaxing.

The fix: Putting an actual resort in the Star Trek hotel under the guise of a permanently-running Risan holodeck program. The sheer elegance of it!! When the weather is bad, hotel staff in gold uniforms can make apologetic comments about how the sim's malfunctioning.

Roleplay though

People are going to want to stay onboard the ship. That's good! The thing about the ship cabins is you can build them in maybe two semicircular layers (the rooms will need to be curved because these are quarters onboard the saucer section, naturally) and just bury them underground. They don't need real windows — you're putting screens in that'll show a space view, especially when the ship goes to warp and you can see those rainbow trails. Inside the semicircle there's a lot of space where you can put the other, bigger sets: the bridge, main engineering, Ten-Forward, etc. None of those have real windows either, and also I don't think it matters where you put them physically: just stick a pretend turbolift in front of all the entrances and make guests take those whenever they need to go there! One thing we're also doing is putting little hidden speakers everywhere that put out a small amount of shipboard white noise; it may not even be noticeable on a conscious level, but it'll be there and it'll be soothing. This speaker network is also a great way to make an actual announcement if there's a real park emergency.

During most of the month, I think the bridge and main engineering are mostly just photo ops — maybe you have to book a timeslot? Just so you're guaranteed some time with just you and your buddies? But I also think there should be opportunities for what I'm going to call mini-LARPing: you and your pals can book an hour-long session and the staff trains and then runs you through a short scenario. If you've ever played Artemis or the actual Star Trek VR bridge crew game they put out a while ago, you know where I'm going with this: for however long, you and your friends are now the crew of a genuine-ass Federation starship trying to survive a battle! It's fuckin' Kobayashi Maru time, motherfuckers!! Everyone gets their own station! Lights flicker! Mist shoots out of stuff! The whole bridge shakes! There might be a warp core problem — better call down to main engineering! Whoever's down there gets escape room-style minigames and puzzles to work out and help their shipmates. At some point — and this will happen in every run of every scenario — there'll be a very mist-forward "coolant leak" near the warp core that forces whoever's in the room to duck and roll beneath a descending garage-style blast door before heading up to the bridge to activate their station up there; bonus points if the player can work in a "We lost a lot of good people down there, Captain." Maybe there's an actor in makeup who menaces the crew on the main viewer from time to time (pick beforehand from a list of villains! want to fight Klingons? Romulans? a rogue Borg tactical sphere? etc). Can you see it? I can see it, and it fucking rules.

I must at this point mention that in my world, you can buy an add-on where a camera crew joins you, and they cut up the footage afterward to make you and your pals your very own mini-episode. Yes the editing and post-production are expensive and time-consuming; I'm creating jobs here!!!! Maybe …… okay, hear me out: there's an array of hidden fixed cameras and microphones built discreetly into the set, and also players are issued a combadge with an individual RFID tracker that pings the cams and mics, so they only save footage when a player comes close. After the players are done, a machine algorithm uses the data gathered to assemble a rough timeline of each player's material and create a draft movie that a human editor can pick up and fine-tune. Yeah?? When you check out, you get handed a USB drive that looks like an isolinear chip with your mini movie on it, and maybe another one with all the raw footage just in case you're feeling ambitious!!!!

For one or two other weekends during every month, there's a heavily advertised, much more involved, and way spendier LARP for people who really want to get into it. It takes place over two days. There are lots more actors portraying characters necessary for the plot/gameplay. Don't bother packing for the daytime: all players are issued a uniform they get to keep afterward. Do I have any details on the scenario or RP? I do not. But I fully believe it's possible to construct something you could run over the course of a weekend that would keep a hundred paying guests occupied, amused, and delighted, provided you have a truly ridiculous amount of money and people, which I do because this is utter fantasyland.

Also it probably won't cost six grand. Probably??

Let's gooooooooooooo

The rest of the time — and I cannot stress this enough — the Star Trek hotel is just a very heavily and specifically themed all-inclusive resort that has nice, fancy rooms and luxury amenities plus bookable ship cabins and opportunities for photo shoots or quick one-shot roleplay adventures for the real heads. You don't ever have to enter those latter parts if you don't want to! You can just hang out at the resort and have fun with all the themed entertainment, which I must stress is going to be both in-universe plausible and great, with something for everybody. Yes, there'll be a daycare, and yes, Flotter will be there in some capacity to entertain the kids. The food hall is my favorite part by far; I could pitch you Trek restaurant concepts all day. Romulan gourmet soup stand. Gummi candy store staffed by Ferengi where all the offerings are shaped like alien bugs. A vending machine where you can get a jumja stick or a three-pack of those nutrient pucks Picard and his new friends kept getting in "Allegiance." There will be an entire plant-based food vendor with a wide variety of delicious options for all meals, and it will be run by Vulcans.

A word on the gift shop

Question for you: have you ever watched a Star Trek show and seen a Starfleet officer pull on a jacket or shoulder a duffel bag that had the words "STAR TREK" on it? If so, then friend, I want to know where you get your hallucinogens because I want to experience this exactly once. All of the gift shops on my hotel grounds sell responsibly sourced, highly thought-out, well-made items that would be in-world plausible and have no obvious branding. Of course you can get a hand-carved horga'hn, but let's go bigger. Why not a light-up Tox Uthat for your nightstand? Ressikan flute for you, queen? How about a whole-ass knife store that's nothing but various kinds of Klingon cutlery? There will absolutely be an entire tailor's shop whose whole job is to put you in the Starfleet uniform of your choice; there may or may not be a Cardassian managing the place who's got a 50/50 cheerful/menacing vibe going on. There'll be not one but two stores that sell little models of ships: the regular ones and the gold ones. Don't tell me you can't picture it!!!!!

I think that's about it

Thank you for coming along with me on this bespoke journey into 100% insanity; now can somebody put me in touch with the Star Trek licensing people and also give me a billion dollars to build all this? Okay, thanks a lot!!

For timeline purposes and because it's fun, I'm positing a version of Farpoint that got built after the events of the TNG premiere where the Denebians got their act together and just built a normal surface base without suborning an interstellar lifeform.

[blackhairedjjun]

thoughts on food truck chef!yeonjun x office worker!reader

meet cute, gn!reader, warnings for food and overwork

unfortunately one day, you forget to bring the lunch you packed to work. fortunately, a new food truck selling burgers and fries has decided to park a few blocks away from your office building.

at first you don't think much of it: you stand in line with a few other employees in front of you, then a gruff middle-aged man takes your order, then you wait for a few minutes for your burger to be grilled. when your name is called, however, your order is served not by the same gruff man but by a handsome young man about your age. he smiles at you when he hands over the wrapped burger and you suddenly feel dizzy from the way he looks at you.

it soon becomes routine for you to visit the food truck during your lunch break at least once a week - maybe you order a burger because you "forgot" your lunch at home, or maybe you just order some fries or a drink to go with the food you already have. the cute cook always smiles and chats with the customers, including you; he asks about your day, if you enjoyed your last order with him, how you spent your last weekend. even if you've ordered nothing more than a soda, he still takes the time to talk to you.

and when you ask him how his weekend was and how his day's been going, he breaks out into shy laughter, his ears turning pink.

you learn that his name is yeonjun, that he lives in the same apartment building as his four closest friends, and that he likes to take photos or do dance covers when he isn't busy with his job at the food truck. he starts peppering his conversations with little flirtations, each one making your heart flutter, but you tell yourself that it's nothing. he likes being cheeky with all his customers.

one night you find yourself going home late after an incredibly long overtime shift. you have a client who wants a rush project, and that means more hours at your desk; the first step outside your office building feels like entering paradise. you don't expect anyone else to be out as late as you, yet when you pass by the food truck you find yeonjun all by himself locking it shut.

he overslept and arrived past the lunch rush hour, he explains, and to make up for it his boss made him clean up by himself.

he's headed to the same train station as you and is even taking the same line, just with a different stop, so the two of you head home together. he tells you that he overslept because he stayed up editing a video of his dance covers, a little passion project of his. you rant to him about your new client and he frowns, worrying that you're working yourself to the bone. "you're too precious to be stressing out over a client who doesn't really care," he says.

you turn away from him so that he doesn't see you blush.

on the train home he shows you a draft of his dance cover video on his phone. you've never seen this side of yeonjun before: he is completely in his element, moving perfectly with the music, expressing just how he feels with his body. you gasp and shower him with compliments, and all he can do is let out nervous giggles and mumble shy "thank you"s. you love this side of him and you wish that you could see it more.

his stop is before yours, and before he gets off he looks at you then opens his mouth. nothing comes out. he closes his mouth then opens it again, then croaks out: "can i... have your number?"

you heartbeat is ringing in your ears as you exchange phones and type in your contact details, but you're smiling so much that you can feel your cheeks ache. "text me when you get home," you say, your voice just as shaky.

"i will," he says just as train pulls in at his stop. "you too, okay?"

"okay. take care, yeonjun."

"good night."

he takes one last look at you before he exits the train, his ears still red. you watch his figure as he goes, then press your hands to your cheeks as if to stop yourself from blushing so much.

let this be only the beginning, your heart tells you.

omg i don't know what came over me... the clips of burger cook!yeonjun from the concept trailer took over my mind he looked soooo good lksdjfklsjf i just had to write sth about it so i wrote all of this in one go. maybe if i have the energy i'll turn this into a proper fic...? idk

[aixeko]

-`♡´-≐ “ IF THE WORLD WAS ENDING, I'D WANNA BE NEXT TO YOU ” ≐-`♡´-

| Starring | Soft!Arlecchino x Harbinger!Reader

| Setting | Genshin universe

| Scenario | [ DRABBLE ] FLUFF! Soft with a hint of angst. Pronouns are not used. A bit fast paced. Not proofread. 

► RADIO CHANNEL [Author note]

× This is so mid and I refuse to reread. I’m so sorry if the quality of the fic is not up to par with the others. × Fluff is so boring I'm sorry, It's not my cup of tea.

[ Word count: 2034 ] | Art credit: Blufyrein on Twitter & Instagram

August 20 XXXX…

“The house of the hearth has been blazing with activity ever since the children heeded the upcoming anniversary of my birth. Even with my reluctance, they insisted on celebrating this occasion, one in which I won't prevent seeing the amount of effort and enthusiasm they are collectively putting into this yearly ceremony.

It has been some time now since you last celebrated with us; in fact, it was four years ago exactly on this day, August 20th. Four years in which you had left for your mission issued by the Taritasa to Natlan, and four years since we last heard of your welfare. The children, in spite of the low possibility of attendance, still persist in accounting for your awaited arrivals, and I too bide my time for the day you return home to us.

If it isn't an inconvenience for you, please do not let their hard work wither into nothingness; perhaps even a response letter would be utmost appreciated by the children.

The hearth is set ablaze, anticipating your safe homecoming; the children miss you." 

Two days have passed since Arlecchino sent her most recent letter to you, and the day of her birthday has arrived with the expected ghosting from your side. Her hands focused on providing perfection to the barbecue, moving on their own like a second conscious being, while her gaze stared blankly at the grill, her mind stuck in deep thoughts.

Arlecchino is not one to sugarcoat or disprove the factuality of a situation, but with the lack of responses, or rather no response, over the past four years, the overwhelming, woeful truth has become more prominent than ever.

Her grip on the tongs tightened; with the amount of pressure she was applying, it could bend the steel into a useless apparatus. Furrowed eyebrows follow along with a frustrated sigh and a shake of her head. No, impossible. How can a Harbinger who is soon to be awarded the ranking just below her fall victim to the accursed consequence of life, such as death? It's impossible; the odds are practically none unless you have run into trouble with the almighty archon of Natan; then that is the only possible outcome that can lead to your ultimate demise. Even the mere thought of that possibility is unbelievable; the person whom Arlecchino has married is not one known to be the hostile type despite ranking as a highly potent Harbinger. To hell and back, your personality is enough to make even the devil himself view you as a passive mortal being; you are not married to a woman such as Arlecchino herself for no good reason.

"FATHER!" A young adult male screamed out in horrorstruck desperation.

The sound of her being called awoke Arlecchino from her trance; her head snapped to the young man, whose skin, once flawless, was now bruised, with short ash-blond hair and wearing magician-like clothing that was now dirtied with his own blood. The apron wrapping around her, along with the tongs in hand, was thrown onto the ground as she rushed to her bloody child. The other children near the area hurried to their brother, their expressions sharing concern and anger at the sight.

Arlecchino catches him once his body gives up; desperate, inaudible cries escape his mouth, with the only few words being coherent: Lynette—everyone—hurts!

Those words are enough for her X-shaped eyes to light up to a color akin to flame. Arlecchino's face visibly darkened at the announcement; from its tone, the situation was a lot direr than she could have expected. She gently but hastily lowered Lyney to the ground, her voice booming with command to the children to aid him while she raced to where he had come from. The children who specialized in combat rather than the medical aspects hurtled with Arlecchino despite not being in their Fatui attire; their bodies, enraged, moved on adrenaline alone.

Another one of the children who is limping sees the reinforcements approaching and points in the direction of the ongoing battlefield onslaught. Distant screams are heard, and Arlecchino has no time to properly bring her children to safety; thus, some of the others take charge in retreating the injured to let her focus on eliminating the source of the massacre.

Once she arrives at the cluster of her heavily wounded children and spots the suspect, who's draped in a dark cloak covering their whole body, Arlecchino takes no time transforming into her stronger form.

Arlecchino's scythe bolts at the infiltrator in synchronization with her body, whose speed could be described as quick as lightning. Arlecchino is left with constricted pupils as the mysterious figure dodges the attack with absolute ease, like they have just vanished into thin air.

"It seems like the great supreme Knave has gotten weaker."

The unrecognized tone of a whisper against her ears has her swinging her scythe at a 360-degree angle; this action causes the person to leap backward with a laugh. Arlecchino stands poised, her eyes scanning the figure to make out some sort of recognizable appearance. By the sound of their voice, Arlecchino feels a sense of familiarity coursing throughout all 206 of her bones, yet she can't place her finger on why the stranger is able to invoke such a feeling.

"You made a grave mistake daring to step forth against the House of the Hearth."

One of Arlecchino's hand ignites in a surge of power, and with that, she leaves no time for a response as her scythe hurls at the figure, with a burst of multiple flaming sword-like shapes surrounding the weapon.

Arlecchino's hand snaps out, catching the leg hurtling at her head. Her voice cuts through the air, sharp and full of mockery: "Too slow."

"Not bad!" laughed the person as they disappeared once more, causing a tsk of irritation to be emitted from Arlecchino.

Arlecchino figured that enough was enough and unleashed various attacks all at once, and not a single one landed; it was like this stranger had already calculated and understood every single little detail about her fighting style. The fact that they didn't actually attack but rather used dodge gave Arlecchino a bit of insight; they were playing a game of speed while she was playing a game of strength.

The gleam in Arlecchino's eyes intensified, sparking with otherworldly vigor. Her hand rose, mirroring the spark within as she muttered, "So be it." Her voice breathed life into a realm unseen by mortal eyes, with only an unlucky few witnessing its crimson moon.

The unidentified figure struggles in their stance, proving to be immobile. Play as you like, but to challenge a Harbinger of her standing is nothing to be confident about; daring to try to manipulate the outcome to your desire against another manipulator is pathetically laughable.

Or so Arlecchino thought, because what she didn't expect was for the stranger to be able to move of their own free will, but also to strike her domain as useless and nonexistent with a familiar style.

Her eyes narrowed once back to the real world, for there had only been one person who was informed about how to elude her realm, and based on the dependence on speed rather than strength, it was already a giveaway. Moments later, her suspicion proves true, yet not as anticipated as she presumes as she sees the stranger dashing towards her—well, not a stranger but the one who swiped her caged heart away into a loving shelter, you. You sprint towards her, shedding your cloak through the stride. In a heartbeat, you jump onto her, embracing her tightly with your warmth for an unexpected reunion, but one with no complaints.

"Peruere!"

Arlecchino freezes momentarily at the sudden action, but once recognition dawns, she returns your grip with an equal amount of fierce.

"You're home."

"I'm home!" You grin and draw back to study the face you longed for and missed for the past four years.

Her eyes, no more did they fume with fury; rather, in replacement of it, there radiated a tenderness shown to a small selected lucky few. A rare softness graces her features, an expression reserved only for children and, more intensely, for you.

"Happy birthday—"

You're interrupted by a peck on the lip; honestly, if it weren't for how unexpected it is for the likes of Arlecchino, it would have completely flown past you as some sort of dust.

"I figure the odds of you arriving today would be little to none, but nonetheless, welcome back home, my dear," she paused. "Although that little stunt of yours is not one easily forgiven or overlooked."

Arlecchino glances at the gathering that has formed all around her, more specifically at the young man who is hiding behind his twin sister with a nervous smile.

"Still as stone-hard as ever, I see, but I do admit my twisted plan for a reunion could have been alternated for a sweeter one," you give her an apologetic smile. "My sincerest apologies, Peruere."

"Why didn't you respond to any of my letters?" Arlecchino asked, turning back to look at you and settling you down to your feet to your dismay.

"I did!" you perked. "It just seems like Natlan is a horrible fit for communicating with letters since, somehow, it keeps getting lost and burned to ashes in the lava."

"Your face betrays you, darling." Arlecchino's fingers danced through your hair. "Your face says it all; it's a given that you know there is no hiding anything from me. Don't lie to me; you didn't know I had sent you letters."

"Haha... Look, in my defense, my mission was a mess, and doing anything is a whole other disorder; I'm thankful that the Captain is taking over because that region is a headache to deal with."

Arlecchino places a hand on your waist, pulling you close as her lips make contact with your head. "Setting everything aside, let us use our time together again to celebrate instead of bickering."

The children cheered at the public display of affection between their parents, and the one who was "tending the wounded" was, in fact, actually bringing the barbecue from the House of the Hearth to the large field.

"The children miss you," Arlecchino whispers into your ear, her head pressed against yours.

You wanted to laugh at the children's excuse; she really had not changed much in the past four years, still playing off a cold demeanor to hide the soft shell hidden beneath it, one you had already melted through.

Your eyelids lift, catching her smile, which reveals her pearly white teeth. Your gaze softens. In reality, many things have changed since you first met her, yet she refuses to give herself credit for it. She was once only known as Arlecchino or by her Harbinger title, The Knave, but over the past years, the facade has lowered greatly to divulge the true identity of Father, The Knave, Arlecchino to just Peruere.

"I miss the children too."

For the rest of the day, that smile didn't leave; no, it was displayed for the whole world to see and ravish in. Nor did she leave your side once, insisting on even public displays of affection in spite of being surrounded by the children, and in her own words, "It's to make up for all the time that has been lost."

If only she knew that in the far future, when all of her hair turns white, with yours matching hers, she would realize it was the worst lie she had ever spoken.

If only she knew that in the future she had accidentally made an unspoken oath with herself to spend the rest of her time loving you to make up for the other half of her time that was spent hiding how much she loved you.

The smile, unbeknownst to both of you, would be a permanent fixture. It would endure through your remaining years, brightening each day until your final moments together, when life's inevitable decline finally claims you both.

Even when the world was ending, at least you both would be next to each other, dying with a smile stretching across your features.

[jamneuromain]

Stalker Lady pt. 2

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader (You)

Word Count: ~1.5k

Warning: Mean!Simon Riley, Voice (PORN) actor!Simon Riley, patron!reader, neighbor!AU, description of audio porn and stalking behavior. Non-con kissing, bad language word people we're talking about audio porn here

Summary: You meet Simon unexpectedly. Unfortunately, he thinks you are a stalker.

A/N: This fic is my rehab-going-back-into-writing fic. And it's the first time I'm writing for "Ghost" I've honestly never played COD. But here's my idea of the scary (not really lol) simon ghost riley :3

Truthfully, he totally forgot about the thing - the barbeque-backyard-thing.

He’s also not proud of himself for spending approximately fifteen minutes in the bathroom getting his junk to calm down after a particular porn session with his microphone, with which he recorded the next audio clip - ready to be posted on the site of Team 141 as soon as the editor (“Cap’n”, they call him, also happens to be the leading voice actor of 141) finishes with the extra background noises, such as the sound of a door slamming shut or the sound of a man’s fist punching the wall.

It’s male-for-female porn, he cursed, as he watched the cold shower numbing his penis, he shouldn’t get off on that. Then he cursed himself more for sneezing right after the shower, worrying about catching a cold in these minutes.

He shouldn’t promise that woman. Sherry? Sharon? For coming over to the barbeque-backyard-thing.

He regretted it profoundly. A cold beer in hand. Listening mindlessly over that woman’s husband and some others chatting about “fuuutballlll”.

It’s soccer, ye’ yank. He grumbles angrily under his breath while no one is noticing.

Yet, here he is. In the backyard of some neighbors. With pent-up steam nowhere to blow off and sexual tension in the back of his spine.

Fuck, he needs to get laid.

Soccer scores and star athletes send his mind elsewhere. Into his condition. He hadn’t slept with any woman for the past four? Five months? God, has it really been that long since his last deployment in Lebanon? He hooked up with a random woman in the pub right after his return, and then … nothing. Not that he intentionally keeping it that way, but between his early hours' mail job and the audio recording that could last for, what looks like for him, eons in the afternoon, he didn’t take the time – or notice it, really – to make it a mission of getting himself laid. And to be frankly honest, this whole M4F porn thing has got him a bit tired to think of anything related to sex outside of his recording room.

Not to mention the fact that in this past few weeks, he has recorded almost every type of role-play from swimming instructors and professors to CEOs and mobsters. In addition, he begins to discover the fact that, not to make himself a Pavlovian dog, per se, but his subconscious mind associates “sex” with his recording booth, which in turn makes him harder (oops), more like, difficult to “get it up” while he’s out of the presence of a microphone and his headsets, and even more difficult to get it down after recording.

Fuck. His. Life.

“Hey, honey, would you mind taking over at the grill for a bit?” The short brunette, Sharon or something, pops up beside him, beaming at her husband Will, who is the loudest in the soccer debate. “Uncle Matthews kinda needs a break. He’s asking if you want to help since he doesn’t want the rest of us to have charcoal for dinner.”

Sharon, Simon decides to call her that for now, brought another girl along. That girl fidgets with her ice coke – Simon could tell it’s on ice because of the water beads clinging to the glass bottle like unrelenting fog and she constantly switches hands to wipe the water on her hand with a neatly folded napkin. That girl has a beautiful blue cotton dress on her, hugging her curves like a second skin.

Will welcomes his wife Sharon with a kiss on her cheek, “Yeah, sure. Where’s the grill, babe?”

Simon smiles and nods as Will hastily says his apologies to his neighbors and makes his exit from the small circle of men. Nevertheless, Simon’s attention and curiosity lie on the girl who just came, the girl who looks familiar …

“Oh hi, Simon!” Sharon chirps up when she notices the silent bulk of muscle right next to her. She grabs the girl by her wrist, nearly risking spilling her drink, “I don’t know whether you’ve met yet,” the brunette's head spins like a whipped gyro, “but this is your new neighbor, living … right next to you, I presume?”

Simon observes the newcomer as she raises her neck to look him in the eyes. Nothing but nervousness and awkwardness.

You. The stalker-neighbor-lady.

Fuck.

His.

Life.

Sharon has to attend to her children running around when they start to wave their paper plates like pirate swords, leaving you two, Simon and you in the tree shade.

The silence hovers like a plague.

Before Simon decides to break it: “Thought I was clear about stalking.”

“It’s hardly stalking when we were both invited to the same party.” You huff.

“You are standing too close.”

“Well, I’m not leaving.” You mumble, carefully stepping away from this bear of a man.

Though stepping away from him means stepping out of the shadows and into the light, and the sun is practically scorching your skin.

You curse this narcissistic egoistic maniac in the depth of your heart, when you hear him ask out of the blue.

“Did you enjoy the latest audio?”

You nearly choke on your drink.

“No!” You hiss, “It was horrible. Horrendous. Hideous. Disgusting. Nothing about it intrigued me.” Despite the fact that it starred one of your favorite tropes, a.k.a semi-public, and made you came two times in a row on your wand. A record, you might say. But you are not supporting this asshole’s career, not when he’s so in over his head and thinks of you as a stalker.

No. You need to draw the line. “And knowing it’s you behind the voices tunes down my … enthusiasm.”

Daring little thing. He might grow fond of you in time. Simon thinks, bemused.

“Ah.” He simply shrugs the faintest disappointment off his shoulders, “So you enjoy the audios bett’r when I have the balaclava on?”

“Yes – No!”

The audio doesn’t reveal his face, never reveals his body either. But Team 141 made sure the audience knew clearly which one was starred in each of the audios. Hence, every audio’s background picture features a special sketch of the voice actor (or actors). While the team leader, “Captain”, has his special sketch as a curly stache, and “Soap’s” is a funny-looking mohawk, Simon chooses a black and white balaclava with his eyes staring right out of the picture. He also makes the balaclava look like the face of the skeleton, under the stage name, “Ghost”.

Truth is, you like the mask. Love the mask. Or balaclava, whatever that is. The mask makes his eyes more prominent. More piercing, as if they slash through your soul and lay you bare.

He could tear you alive with those eyes.

“So you do like the balaclava.” He sighs in phony remorse, before chucking in his low baritone, “Cute.”

Shoot. Did he just say that out loud?

“Perv.” Now it is your turn to grumble and feel annoyed.

He shakes his head lightly, lifting the cold beer to his lips, smirking, “Not sure if it’s the right word f’r me, Peach, it sounds better on ye’.”

“For the last time,” You glare at him angrily, though the death stare you sent his way could do little more than have a stream try to bring down a bridge, squeezing every word between your clenched teeth, “I’m not a stalker, you jerk.”

“Apology accepted.” He gloats.

“Wha- I’m – Ugh!” Your outbreak gives into your frustration of not being able to form a proper sentence out of the existing vocabulary, if any, remaining in your head. Your body acts faster than your brain could perceive – it stomps on his feet heavily. You, stomp on his feet angrily.

You hope he breaks a toenail. Or five.

“You should change your username to Firecracker. Or Firestomper, perhaps?”

You could have just broken all of his bones back there, and this? This is his reaction?

“You-” You stop mid-sentence as his presence draws closer, making you stammer, “You-”

A hot, wet kiss. All teeth and tongue. All sucking and biting. Demanding. Intruding.

Forcing a thumb on your chin so you would open up for him at the right time, the proper angle, the faint whimper. Clawing your waist so you would avoid the pain, and chest flush to his, arching your spine. A knee between your legs that somehow finds its way there, that could almost grind on your weeping core-

A kiss that melts you down. That shows you every bit of him you wanted, and still want when you listen to the porn he recorded. The softness. The roughness. All of it. The kiss you have been craving for, dreaming for, and cumming for in all those sleepless nights. The kiss that turns you into a different person. The kiss that has you longing for more. Far more than what he offers right now.

He lets go of you after a small whimper escapes your lips.

“Sweet as a peach, lovie. But aww, so needy. Practically feeling you grinding on my cock just now.”

“I did not-” The blood rushes to your cheeks, “How dare you -”

Simon quirks his brow: “I, on the one hand, recall you, stalker lady, trying to paw at me when you attack me with your -”

A loud slap rings his ears.

“Now we’re getting somewhere.” Simon’s tongue finds his canines, and the spot where you slapped him on the face, and grins. Sickeningly.

As he watches your silhouette storm out of the barbeque party and into the confines of your house, he feels a rush of blood pouring down below, lighting up a fire that could burn everything down.

Fuck, he just got hard. Without a script or a microphone.

Taglist (also tagging the ones who may be interested): @vnknowcrow @splaterparty0-0 @prettygirleli @ksa01 @laciaheavenm

@dungeonpuppykai @mrs-marc-spector

[wakandas-vibranium]

Double Date

Pairing: Fontaine x Black Fem!Reader

Warnings: smutty smut, 18+ content, minors DNI, oral(f+m receiving), protected p in v sex, dirty talk, daddy!kink, praise!kink, rough sex

Word count: 5k

Summary: Your coworker Yo-Yo is playing matchmaker and asked you to accompany her roommate on a double date.

A/N: Let’s get it started with these TCT fics!! If y’all writing ‘em, please tag me so I can read ‘em!! Please like, comment, and reblog!

You finished getting dressed, checked yourself in the mirror one last time, and smiled at how gorgeous you looked, so you grabbed your cell phone and purse and made your way downstairs to meet your Lyft driver. You couldn't wait for your automobile to be repaired because you loathed having to rely on others for transportation.

You were talking to your coworker Yo-Yo earlier this week about how you were touch starved and eager to jump back into the dating scene. Even though you had only worked with Yo-Yo for a little over four months, you had already come to think of her as a close friend. She just moved to Memphis not too long ago. 

Yo-Yo asked you on a double date with her and her boyfriend, claiming that Fontaine, her roommate, was the ideal man for you. 

You've seen Fontaine pick Yo-Yo up from work numerous times and have seen him drive that green car of his around town a few times, but you've never had the chance to actually talk to him. He always seemed to have a lot on his mind, but he was fine as hell, so of course you agreed to the double date. 

You suggested Melvin's, which was one of the few black-owned pubs in the neighborhood. They had delicious, mouthwatering food and a dance floor that never stayed vacant. 

Fontaine didn't appear to be the dancing type, which was fine by you. You just hoped that he would like you enough to bring you back home and fuck your brains out. It had been exactly 14 months, 12 weeks, 11 days, 13 hours, 22 minutes and 57 seconds since you had any kind of dick.

It was time.

Your Lyft driver pulled up in front of you at a quarter to eight, which was perfect because y'all had agreed to meet there at eight and it was only a ten-minute drive from your apartment.

"Lyft for Y/N?" said the older gentleman as he rolled down the passenger window.

You nodded at him, and he quickly stepped out to open the rear door for you, saying, "You lookin' good, young lady!" 

You smiled at him before ducking into the backseat, "Thank you."

Before you knew it, you were parked in front of Melvin's. A nervous chill swept over you. It had been a good lil minute since you've dated. You were rusty and willed yourself not to fuck up tonight.

Once you strutted inside, you spotted the three of them almost immediately. They were all in deep conversation and didn't notice you walk in. They picked a good table to sit at. One close to the bar and dance floor. It was a Thursday night, so it wasn't too packed, but it had a nice lil crowd. 

You tucked your phone inside your clutch, took a deep breath, and strolled confidently over to their table. 

All three of them turned their heads towards you as you neared the table. Yo-Yo beamed brightly at you and waved you over. Her boyfriend's eyes widened, and he mumbled something you couldn't hear, but it must have been inappropriate because Yo-Yo kicked him under the table. 

Fontaine raised his eyebrows and bit his bottom lip as he looked you up and down. The flash of his gold teeth almost made your knees go weak, but you kept walking. You were a sucker for niggas with grills.

Yo-Yo’s man and Fontaine were on the same side of the booth. Yo-Yo was sitting across from her boyfriend, and the empty spot in front of Fontaine was reserved for you.

Yo-Yo stood up and hugged you tightly, "You look finer than a motherfucka!" 

You giggled, squeezing her back just as tightly, "Thank you girl! You look amazing too!" 

She broke the hug and motioned to the two men, "This is my man, Slick Charles, and this is Fontaine." She motioned for you to slide into the booth first, “And this is my coworker and friend Y/N." 

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” Slick Charles greeted as he held out his hand. You shook his hand before scooching over into the booth. 

“It’s good to meet you, Y/N,” Fontaine said as he extended his hand, “I’m Fontaine.” 

You placed your hand in his large palm, brown eyes locking with his brown eyes and smiled softly at him, “It’s nice to finally meet you, Fontaine.” 

He squeezed your hand, and a wave of warmth rushed through you. Under his intense gaze, you could feel your cheeks heating up. 

Were you really so touch-deprived that a simple handshake and eye contact were enough to make your black ass blush?

The server came over and greeted everybody warmly, saying, "Welcome to Melvin's. What drinks can I get started on for y'all?"

Yo-Yo ordered first, “I’ll have a Manhattan.” 

Then Slick Charles, “Yeah I’ll take a vodka cranberry with a splash of orange juice.” 

The waiter turned to you expectantly and you ordered, “A whiskey sour, please.” 

Fontaine ordered last, “Just a double shot of whiskey for me.”

“And did you want that neat or on the rocks?” 

“Neat.”

“I’ll be right back with your drinks.” 

“So,” you started as you watched the waiter walk off, “How are y’all liking Memphis so far?”

“I’m really enjoying it,” Yo-Yo chimed in. 

“Yeah,” Slick Charles agreed, “It’s a nice change from the Glen.”

“I like it here,” Fontaine added, “I like being in a place where not too many niggas know me.” 

“Well I’m glad y’all came to Memphis,” you admitted, smiling warmly at them. 

The waiter returned with your drinks and took your orders before walking away. 

“Slick, let's hit the dance floor while we wait for our food.” Yo-Yo said as she did a little dance at the table. 

“I ain’t got on my dancing shoes to—“

“—Nigga, get yo ass up and let’s dance.”

“I know we retired and all but I’m still—“ Slick Charles was cut off by Yo-Yo yanking him up and to the dance floor. 

“Are they always like that?” You asked, biting back a laugh as you watched Yo-Yo drag Slick Charles all the way to the dance floor.

“Pretty much,” Fontaine nodded, never taking his eyes off you, “How long you been in Memphis?”

“All my life.”

“You ain’t ever think about movin’ somewhere else?”

“Nah, not really,” you shrugged, “All my family is here, you know?” 

“Yeah, I get it.” 

You were surprised by how effortlessly the conversation flowed. You could talk to him for hours and never get tired of listening to his alluring voice. You were curious about the noises he made while he was balls deep in some pussy. You cleared your throat in an attempt to pull your thoughts out of the gutter. It didn't work.

“You been in a lot of relationships?” You asked, taking another swig of your drink. 

“Nah, I ain’t really have too many shawtys back in the Glen.” 

“Hmm, so you haven’t come across any Memphis women that caught your attention?”

“You caught my eye,” he stated, catching you off guard. 

“Is that so?”

“Mmhmm.”

“I’mma keep it real with you, Fontaine,” you said as you looked him straight in the eye, “I want you really bad.” 

“Shit then we on the same page,” he acknowledged, downing the rest of his drink. “So you comin’ back with me tonight?” 

You nodded, “I just have one condition though.” 

“And what’s that?” Fontaine questioned as he placed his elbows on the table and leaned forward a bit. 

You leaned across the table and motioned for him to come closer. When he was close enough to your liking you whispered, “You have to keep the grills on while you eat my pussy.” 

His brown eyes darkened with desire and a hint of mischief at your request. As your tongue glided across your bottom lip, his gaze drifted to your mouth. 

The sexual tension was so thick you could have sliced it with a butter knife.

“I can do that.” 

You inched closer to each other, your gaze never leaving the other's. From this close range, you could see that his pupils were dilated. You were positive that yours most likely were too. 

“Yeah? You promise?” The corners of your mouth couldn’t help but turn up into an infectious grin at the electric look he gave you.

“Promise.”

He closed what little distance was left between you and kissed your lips. Your eyes fluttered closed as you kissed him back with a quickness. Under his facial hair, his full lips were soft against yours and tasted of whiskey. 

The bustling noise of the forks scraping plates, the chatter of the other customers, and the thump of feet on the dance floor all faded away for a brief moment.

You rested your hands on his broad shoulders as he deepened the kiss, letting out a soft moan as his tongue brushed against yours. His hand was wrapped around your lower arm, softly caressing your brown skin. 

You got a little carried away as you slid your hands to the sides of his neck and gently tugged at his lower lip. The low grunt of surprise that he let out caused your clit to throb, and your nipples to harden. He didn't try to pull away from you though. He held both of your arms now and squeezed them tighter as his kisses became more heated.

You were seconds away from saying fuck it and pulling him into a bathroom stall, but you refrained. You had to maintain some type of decorum.

“Ahhh sookie sookie now!” Slick Charles chuckled as he made his way back to the table.

“Y’all niggas need to get a room,” Yo-Yo teased as she plopped down next to you. 

“These motherfuckas,” Fontaine grumbled as he pulled away. 

When you finally opened your eyes, you noticed that some other patrons were staring at you. You ignored them and focused your attention on Yo-Yo and Slick Charles, both of whom were smirking at you and Fontaine.

You were too turned on to be embarrassed, and fortunately, the waiter was on his way over with everyone's food.

The food was delicious as always, and the evening was going exceptionally well. Slick Charles was telling you how he met Yo-Yo, but you were zoning in and out. 

Every time you locked eyes with Fontaine, you squirmed in your seat a little. There was something in his fierce gaze that promised you a night of passion. 

You were so turned on that you couldn't even finish your food. You just ordered another whiskey sour and sipped on that until the others were finished and ready to leave.

The drive back to their place was smooth and just a vibe. Yo-Yo and Slick Charles sang along to the 90's R&B that played softly on the radio in the backseat, and you joined them a few times.

Fontaine sat in a comfortable silence, driving with one hand because his right hand was spread out over your thigh. When he would stop at a red light, he would squeeze it or rub it with his fingers. All the while not taking his eyes off the road, driving you insane, and making you wet for him. He had to know what he was doing to you. 

They lived in a pretty nice apartment complex. It wasn't too far from yours. Once Fontaine parked, you got out of the car and walked ahead with Yo-Yo, arm in arm.

You were elated that they lived on the first floor because your feet were killing you. Yo-Yo unlocked the door and you followed her inside. She pulled you through the apartment to the kitchen, handing you a bottle of water after she closed the fridge. 

You and she gushed over how great tonight turned out to be and how you both had naughty plans for your men.

A couple of minutes later, the fellas entered the apartment. Slick Charles called for Yo-Yo, who winked at you and gave you a thumbs up before exiting the kitchen.

You were halfway done with your water when Fontaine found you leaning against the kitchen counter.

“Hey,” he greeted.  

“Hi,” you replied, shooting him a warm smile. 

He pointed to the hallway, “My room is the last room on the left. I’ll meet you there in a min.” 

You nodded as you watched him shuffle out of the kitchen. You gulped down the last bit of your water and threw away the bottle before leaving the kitchen in search of his bedroom.

You found his room with ease, passing Fontaine, Yo-Yo and Slick Charles. The door was already open, so you headed in, not bothering to flip on the light because the tiny lamp on his nightstand illuminated the room plenty for you to see.

“Slick, what the fuck we gon’ do with glow in the dark condoms?” you heard Fontaine question from the other bedroom. You laughed to yourself. You weren’t completely against those types of condoms. 

Slick Charles went on about Fontaine being boring and how he needed to have some fun. You tuned him out as you took off your heels, sighing in relief while you walked around Fontaine’s room. 

You checked your phone to make sure there were no missed calls or texts before slipping it back in your purse. You placed your clutch on his dresser and checked yourself out in the mirror while you waited for him. You looked like a snack and you were definitely ready to be ate! 

Fontaine strolled into the room, shutting and locking the door behind him. You turned around to look at him. He held up a gold-colored foil packet and asked, “You ain't allergic to latex, right?" 

"Nah, I'm not allergic,” you assured him.

"Cool," he said as he pocketed the rubber and took his shoes and socks off, kicking them to the side before pulling you in by the waist and kissing you instantly. 

You kissed him back, your arms sliding up to wrap around his neck. His hands ventured down to your ass, squeezing it tight as he deepened the kiss. He swallowed your soft moans, licking into your hot mouth as he backed you into the dresser.

“Now I told yo ass to slow down before you injure a nigga’s back!” Slick Charles shouted through the walls. Yo-Yo said something back but you couldn’t make out what she had said. 

He broke the kiss, panting lightly as you both stared at each other for several seconds before he shook his head and you let out a giggle. Those two had to be the strangest and funniest couple you’d ever met. 

You felt his hardness against your thigh and you rubbed it. Damn, he was huge. You couldn’t wait to feel him inside you, stretching your walls.

“You ready for Daddy to eat that pussy?” he asked as he took a step back, looking you up and down. 

Was the sky blue? Hell yeah, you were. 

You nodded enthusiastically as you pulled your dress over your head, tossing it onto the floor. He watched you undress with hungry eyes, palming his erection. Once you took off your bra and panties you sauntered over to the bed, sitting down slowly before spreading your legs. 

He yanked off his shirt, revealing his large chest and broad shoulders, throwing it on the floor with your pile of clothes. He followed you up the bed, pulling on your legs to bring you closer to his face. 

“Damn shawty,” Fontaine murmured as he rolled your clit between his thumb and forefinger, licking his lips at the captivating way your pussy glimmered in his dimly lit room. “All for me, huh?”

"All for you, Daddy," you sighed deeply in anticipation as you felt his breath on your sensitive cunt. His nose brushed against your clit, causing your thighs to tremble slightly.

Leaning on his forearms, his large hands rested atop your lower belly as he licked a warm stripe from your wet slit all the way to your clit, flicking it twice before closing his mouth around it. You could already tell that you wouldn’t last long.

“You taste good as fuck,” he praised, dipping his tongue into your hole, tasting your fresh juices. He slid his finger in, stretching you slowly as he licked around your clit, strong tongue pushing you closer to the edge. 

"Oooh just like that," you held the back of his head, moaning loudly, "Don't stop."

Your back arched off the bed, bringing your pussy closer to his talented mouth. Your thighs began to shake as your climax loomed. The sheer pleasure was almost too much for you. You tried to force your thighs closed, but Fontaine's hand pinned you down. He had you exactly where he wanted you.

You inhaled sharply and sank back against the pillows as he inserted a second finger, pumping you faster.

“Fuuuuck!” you moaned even louder. 

He softly nibbled your clit, and the coolness of his golds was all it took to send you tumbling over the edge.

“I can feel it,” he moaned against your sensitive bud, slurping up all your juices, “Let it all out for Daddy.” 

His filthy words and the calculated flicks of his tongue had your mind whirling and your heart pounding. Every mind-boggling wave of bliss flooded through your veins, causing you to shiver uncontrollably as you tugged on his locs. At the moment, you couldn't form any words. All you could do was pant harshly and let out all kinds of obscene noises.

When he finally felt your body go limp, he pulled off your clit and eased his fingers out of you. Fontaine planted a few soothing kisses on your thighs before sitting up.

Your eyes were still closed, and your breaths were finally slowing, but you could feel his eyes on you and hear him sucking his fingers.

You peeked through one eye and found him kneeling over you, completely naked now, stroking his massive dick as he watched you with a mischief glint in his dark eyes. 

“I see you smirkin’, nigga,” you blurted, pointing at him as you glowed blissfully.

He tried to cover his smile but you saw it anyway. He playfully smacked your hand and said, “I was just tryna make sure you wasn’t ‘bout to pass out on a nigga.” 

“Yeah, yeah..”

He continued to stroke his dick as he lay on his back beside you. You turned your head to the side to get a better look, and your mouth watered at the sight. 

"Come taste this dick," he commanded as he watched you ogle it.

You sat up on your knees and leaned forward, taking it in both your hands. He had to have been eight or nine inches in length and was very girthy; his dick curved to the left too. It had been a while since you gave head, but you were determined to make him feel good. 

You wrapped your lips around the tip. It was warm and velvety against your tongue. You let the soft feel of Fontaine's dick run over your tongue, relishing the taste as you took him down as far as you could go, breathing through your nose. He hissed lowly as the wet heat of your mouth engulfed him. 

You licked a wet stripe up and down the length of his shaft before rising up to close your lips around the crown, stroking the rest of his rod swiftly. 

You glimpsed up at Fontaine through your eyelashes. The heated stare he gave you was enough to make you feel lightheaded. His golds flashed at you as he sank his teeth into his bottom lip. The sight had you dripping for him.

He moaned your name, stretching out his legs as he cupped the back of your head. You swirled your tongue around, drawing out a long groan from him as you flattened your tongue down the underside of his tip. He lifted his hips, thrusting up as he held your head in place. 

You moaned as he fucked up into your mouth, your left hand braced on his knee while the other fondled his balls. Tears pricked your eyes as you hollowed your cheeks and sucked him down as much as you could, gagging briefly as the tip of his dick slipped down the back of your throat.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he gasped as he halted his movements and gripped your shoulder, “Stop before I nut.” 

You pulled off with a loud pop, placing one final kiss onto the swollen, spit-gleaming tip before climbing up his body and crushing your lips against his in a sloppy kiss. His big hands roamed all over your body, squeezing your supple ass while he kissed you back just as sloppily.

"Aight, lay back for me," he murmured, breaking the kiss and pushing you onto your back, moving with a skilled quickness to put the magnum on before slotting himself between your spread legs. 

He lined himself up against your entrance, dragging his dick up and down your wet slit, only stopping to tap his fat tip against your sensitive clit, making you gasp and jerk beneath him in anticipation.

He slowly pushed inside, and your mouth fell open, but you quickly closed it, fighting back the scream that was about to escape.

“Shit,” he groaned deeply, pulling out a little once he was halfway in, and sinking back in, watching your pussy stretch around him. “You squeezin’ a nigga.” 

The pressure of the stretch stung, so you just bit your bottom lip, clung to the sheets and breathed deeply through your nose until the feeling subsided.

“You good?” he asked, voice laced with concern, stopping all movement when he realized just how quiet you were being. 

You opened your eyes, and his worried eyes swept your face, looking for any sign of pain. It was almost as though he was splitting you in two. You had to take a few more deep breaths in order to relax.

"Yeah, I'm good," you assured him as you let go of the covers and clung to his arms. "Your dick is huge, Fontaine goddamn."

He grinned at your confession and pulled all the way out before plunging back in, damn near knocking the wind out of you. 

“Oh my god,” you gasped, legs spreading wider to grant him better access. 

Once he was buried deep inside you, you let out a moan so inviting that he couldn't resist lowering his head and capturing your lips with his. You stroked his cheeks and tugged him closer, kissing him with all the fervor you could muster.  

“Shit, you feel good,” he praised, moaning softly as he began to circle his hips. 

“Please fuck me harder,” you sighed deeply, hands moving down to cup your breasts.

He straightened up and began to thrust inside you, picking up the tempo once he established a good rhythm. Soon, the room was filled with the sound of your wetness, his hips slamming hard against yours, and heavy breaths.

“Fontaine,” you moaned breathlessly. He groaned in response as he was beginning to love the way you called his name. 

“You look so pretty takin’ all this dick,” he praised, grip on your thighs tightening as he fucked you even faster. Warmth spread across your chest at the praise, and more wetness oozed out of your tight hole.

His hand slid up your body, squeezing your breast while the other bounced freely. Listening to him groan and grunt in delight was music to your ears, and it made your clit throb harder.

The intensity of the pleasure washed over you until it was all you could feel pulsing through your veins. He was fucking you so good. When you realized how loud you were being, you snapped your mouth shut, stifling your moans.

"Nah, I want to hear you,” he growled low in your ear, thrusting harder and deeper, “Tell me how good Daddy dick feels.” 

You couldn't help but whimper as he brushed against that sweet spot deep inside of you. “You—ah shit—feel so fuckin’ good!”

“I’m hittin’ that spot, huh?” Fontaine chuckled cockily, gold chain dangling against your chin. 

“Yesss Daddy! Ple—please don’t stop,” you begged. 

“What a nigga get if he don’t stop?”

“Anything!” you cried out, squeezing your legs around him and holding onto his shoulders as he pounded you into the mattress. “Shit— Fontaine I’m ‘bout to cum,” you breathed shakily, toes curling as your eyes snapped shut. 

“I want that shit,” he grunted loudly as he felt your walls contract around him, “Cum all over this dick.” 

You sank your teeth into his shoulder, biting down hard, muffling your screams of pleasure as your orgasm ripped through you. He sucked in a sharp breath at the pleasurable pain and as your cunt clenched so tightly around him, cumming hard, creaming all over his dick.

He whispered soothing things to you as your body convulsed in his arms. He held you tighter as he traced kisses all over your face and down your neck, shifting his rhythm back to a gentle rock. 

Once you came to your senses, you opened your eyes and gasped at the teeth marks you had left on his shoulder.

“Oh shit Fontaine,” you whispered as you traced the bite mark with your thumb, “I ain’t mean to bite you.” 

“Nah, you good,” he huffed, shrugging his shoulders, “I’m actually into that shit.” 

“Good to know.”

He waited a few more seconds before pulling out. He climbed off of you, kneeled on the bed, and scooched back to give you room to move, “Hands and knees, Y/N.” 

You happily obliged by rolling onto your stomach and arching effortlessly on your hands and knees.

You and Fontaine moaned in unison when he entered you in one swift motion, hips smacking against your asscheeks as he set a brutal pace. This must have been his favorite position because he wasn’t fucking around this time. Your desperate whimpers and the wet sound of skin slapping skin filled the bedroom once again. You took every inch he gave you, arms stretched out in front of you, fingers gripping the sheets as you rocked back against him. 

“Yeah, that’s right,” he grunted as he smacked your asscheek, “Fuck me back just like that.” 

His grip was so tight on your waist that you knew your hips would be sore in the morning. The thought alone made you wetter so you threw it back even harder.

It didn't take long for Fontaine to elicit another orgasm from you, causing your knees to buckle and slump against the mattress. He followed you down, chest pressed against your back, still pounding his thick dick inside you and panting against your ear.

As he placed all of his weight on you, his large hands wrapped around yours, fingers intertwining as he continued to give you the best dick you'd ever had. He was grinding so hard and deeply into you, muttering filthy words in your ear. The boundless pleasure was starting to become overwhelming. You couldn't cum again. You were almost certain that you'd pass smooth the fuck out if you came a fourth time. You needed him to cum. 

“Fon—fuuuuck! Please cum for me!” 

“You want Daddy to nut?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you whined, eyes rolling back as he brushed against your g-spot yet again. 

“Aight, c’mere,” He rose back up on his knees, tugging you along with him. You braced yourself on your hands and knees. He slowly rocked into you a few times before setting a merciless pace, fucking the breath right out of your lungs.

“Goddamnit,” you rasped, “You fuck me so good!”

As he repeatedly hammered away at your g-spot, all you could do was grab the sheets and scream his name. Hot tears welled up in your eyes. As your walls tightened around his fat dick, you trembled, gasping and whimpering. You were a mess. Another orgasm blasted through you, taking you both by surprise and blurring your vision. It took all your strength not to fall forward as your thighs shook violently.

Fontaine grunted loudly as he rutted against you like a mad man, smacking your asscheeks over and over, chasing his own orgasm. He let out a low, guttural groan, thrusts faltering as he twitched inside of you, cumming hard. 

You both panted harshly and were completely fucked out. Arms and legs weaker than SWV.

He trailed kisses down your sweat-glistening back before pulling out of you. Once he was free, you slumped all the way forward, your head resting against a pillow. He carefully pulled the condom off, tied it, and tossed it into the bin beside his nightstand before plopping down next to you. 

Still splayed out on your stomach, you scooched as close to him as you could, cupped his face, and just gazed down into his eyes as you swiped your thumb across his hairy cheek. 

He mirrored your gaze, his eyes less intense than usual, and wrapped his arm around your waist, massaging small circles into your lower back with the pads of his fingertips.

After a prolonged moment of silence, in-tune gazes, and soft caresses, you broke the silence and said, "That was fuckin' amazing."

He nodded his head in agreement so you asked him, “When can we do this again?” 

“Whenever you want,” he said before pulling you down into a tender, biting kiss. He sucked in your lower lip and licked into your mouth teasingly. You tugged on his bottom lip, softly sighing as you ran your tongue across his golds, shifting so you were half on top of him, chest to chest.

Good, you thought. Because you definitely planned on sticking around. Good dick and conversation? There was no way you were passing that up. 

“Goddamn ‘Taine! You ain’t have to upstage a pimp like that!” Slick Charles hollered through the walls. 

You broke the kiss, gasping at the random outburst. 

“Nigga, shut yo retired ass up!” Yo-Yo said just as loud.

Fontaine tried to hold it, but one look at your amused face had him chuckling and shaking his head fondly at his roommates.

[chaosandmarigolds]

peaches, I have an amazing idea:

Simon Riley and his wife take the kid(kids) on holiday to Scottland, years into retirement to visit Johnny in the Highlands!!!

would that be so cute? All the kiddos running around while Johnny, Simon, and Reader (maybe Johnnys partner idk!!) all sitting by the moores, finally enjoying life??

Ugh

(THATS FREAKING ADORABLE AH)

And if it was Tf141!Reader, like dude-

It would be a long planned trip, reunion type of trip where everyone and their respective families were coming down and after much convincing Johnny had told them that he would be the perfect middle. And shockingly, he wasn't wrong.

Simon made sure the youngest was old enough to fly, so she was about eight months old, and he thought flying would be the easy part! No. The oldest is running down the loading docks with his toy airplane, the middle is griping that they weren't able to get breakfast before the flight and the youngest who is normally so sweet and so quiet, is sobbing with no sign of stopping.

So he as to break out the lieutenant voice, nothing compared to what it actually was but it was stern enough that it made the older two straighten up.

And everyone would've been so excited to see you both, and don't tell Simon but you have a video of that grown man almost jumping out of the Taxi

Simon and Johnny would've spent the entire evening by the grill, watching the football match on the little TV he has out there while Kyle and John would made small talk with you and Juliet

Sometimes you would forget that Juliet was actually apart of the team, a RN assigned during longer ops-

"Wait so how did you meet Liza, Captain?" You then say after a joke was made about how Simon and Johnny had their soulmates handed to them.

John shrugged, "Highschool."

To that your seven-year-old looks up from their game of poker, (something you very hesitantly allowed), "That's so old!"

"Nah," John said to the boy, "One day you'll meet someone an' then you'll be married." He chuckled as the boy grimaced.

Most of the trip would be spent with Johnny showing everyone his favorite spots, a few hikes, but nothing crazy- as an equal amount was spent lounging around.

Kyle taught the kids just about every card game in existence during that time.

John spent about twenty minutes scolding the team for standing at attention whenever he walked into the room saying it didn't matter if they were "not really at attention' because he was still retired and he didn't like the idea of accidentally traumatizing them

Simon and Johnny who spent their days teasing the other- therapy having done them both good over the years.

Johnny who broke serval laws when he shot fireworks out to celebrate Simon's birthday (yes he did plan that)

(ps Juliet did know that everyone was coming because Johnny did not shut up about it for about four months prior)

(annnn yea thats all i got! Hope you like it! <3)

[unholyhelbig]

Part three of loan shark natty

Title: The Oversight [Part 3/7]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Wordcount: 3465

Warnings: Mentions of kidnapping, guns, blood, death, sort of dark nat if you squint, horrible grammar

[A/n: If you guys haven't picked up on it yet, this will be slow-burn. Also, thank you so much for the positive response to this story, it means so much!]

[ Part one | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven ]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

It had been two weeks since the incident that you had deemed ‘the business proposal’, though, if you were being honest, you knew exactly what it was. The bruising against the side of your face, fading from a deep dark purple to an ugly muddy brown reminded you of the encounter. The faster you healed, the more your nerves started to prickle dangerously.

Each time the brass bell above the diner’s door would ring, your eyes would flick to the entrance. With bated breath, you’d study the tired businessman, the English major running on nothing but burnt coffee, or the single mother just looking for some reprieve. Much like yourself.

Clint Barton was the last person you expected and wanted to see. He was certainly the last person you wanted to see, despite the sheepish smile on his face. There was shame etched into his features and a strange softness to his eyes that starkly contrasted the man who had nearly broken your jaw.

His hair was sprinkled with droplets of water, a sweatshirt dotted from the persistent drizzle that seemed to plague the city. He dutifully wiped his feet on the mat and made his way over to you. Instead of his usual booth, Clint sat on the last stool and scratched the stubble on his chin.

He glanced at the menu as if he were going to order something different than his usual. Maybe he wouldn’t order anything at all. But, you had a feeling you weren’t going to escape the conversation at the tip of his tongue, nor the obscenities at the tip of yours.

You poured him a cup of coffee and set it in front of him without being asked. Clint could swallow down a whole pot of extra caffeinated without a second thought. For now, you urged him to pace himself silently.

“You got a couple of minutes?” He asked behind the rim of his cup.

The diner was mostly empty. It was the middle of the workday and had been a slow four hours thus far. There was only so many times you could wiped down the same table and replace the salt in the shakers.

The cook made eye contact with you as he poured alcohol from his flask into off-brand orange soda. You got a short shrug in response. Otherwise, the place was empty. Clint had timed his arrival perfectly.

“Sure. You’re not going to beat the shit out of me again, are you? Those cameras aren’t hooked up, but this is still a public place.”

“Look, I wanted to apologize for that. Bad information breeds bad reactions. I was doing what I was told. You’ll learn that that’s the only way to get anywhere in this practice.”

He stated it plainly as if you weren’t silently inducted into a criminal ring. You weren’t exactly sure what they did but if it was half as bad as what they’d done to you, it was trouble. Clint could sense your unease. He placed his mug down and lifted a bandaged eyebrow.

“Hold your grudge, y/n. I sure would. Natasha simply told me to collect you after your shift. So, you can sit here and glower at me like a grumpy little monster or you can make conversation and we can become friends.”

You hated how good the second suggestion sounded. He was charming in an annoying type of way. You’d never clicked with anyone in the diner before, certainly not the only other employee that stood behind the grill.

Clint was staring at you like he knew you’d already folded. He covered his smirk with another sip of coffee. You wanted to wipe the cocky grin off his face. He had effectively taken a shot at you, that much was true, but you had crumbled just as easily under Natasha’s wishes.

“Friends is a stretch.” You sounded out.

“Acquaintances, then.”

You conceded with a small nod and Clint smiled in a way that could only be genuine. He swallowed off the rest of his coffee and made small talk with you as you hustled around the restaurant. There was a small rush after classes at the community college let out. But you were able to carry on a conversation, learning a little more about him.

He’d been friends with Natasha for a long time. That much was clear by the way his eyes crinkled along the edges when he’d recall memories that stretched past their current affairs and into childhood.  

“We met when we were twelve. I’d just moved to town and was this scrawny, awkward mess of puberty and acne. An easy target is what I’m saying. A lot of neighborhood boys would target me, but I was faster than them. It usually worked in my favor, but there was one day when it had just snowed and it was impossible for me to get any headway.”

Clint regaled you as you filled up his mug for the third time. You lingered behind the counter, chin on your hand as you listened intently.  

“Six of them cornered me at a construction site. I didn’t even know how to begin to fight back. I was beaten close to death and then I heard Nat. She ran head-first into danger, tried to take on every single one of them. Of course, she got the shit kicked out of her too, she was just a kid there was no way for her to win. But that didn’t’ matter because she got back up every single time. Eventually they got cold, or bored, probably both.”

You didn’t want to admit that you were impressed. “Shit, that’s quite the meeting.”

“She’s tough, y/n. Not someone you want to fuck with.”

“So, this is a warning, then?” You smiled.

He shrugged his shoulders “A cautionary tale.”

He drove a 1970 Dodge challenger that smelled like cherry leather polish. It was the nicest car you had ever seen, that is, until he pulled up the iron-gated mansion on the outskirts of the city. There was a brilliant view of the harbor, the water a deep and dark blue that seemed endless, an orange sun casting delicious shadows against the docks.

The house was brick, built in a southern style with a large wrap around porch and a stone fountain in the center of a circular gravel drive. It was three stories of decadence, surrounded by large oak trees and the deepest green grass. This was the home of a Politian, or of someone who had one under their thumb.

Three black SUVs were parked in tandem outside. An equally pitch Corvette Stingray was parked directly in front of the steps. You struggled to muffle the thoughts of Natasha in the front seat. The vehicle suited her, and while you most certainly were not a car person, you knew the value of a ride like that.

Clint squirmed with pride, that same smile on his face. It was one that often accompanied him, you’d learn. He took the steps two at a time and waited to open the doors until you’d caught up. He removed his jacket and draped it over the coat rack just by entryway. You, however, were preoccupied by the elegance of the home.

The floor was a checkered black and white, stretching all the way down a corridor to open storm doors, letting in a crisp spring warmth. Light danced against art that cost more than your entire apartment building. White stairs clung to the wall and curved to the second floor. To your left, a dining room. To your right, a living area that had the softest white carpet, and a cream grand piano that your fingers twitched to run over.

There was a sour scent of bleach that reached your nose, and it was only then, did you realize the blood. It was distilled, a quiet pink color, that had been diluted by diligent scrubbing. The girl, the one that was often at Clint’s side herself, was on her knees a few feet away.

She held a scrub brush that looked like the ones used to clean the grout at the diner. Her forehead was damp with sweat, a few stray strands of dark hair falling into stormy gray eyes. The front of her shirt was stained in the majority of the blood. You failed to see how she would have much to clean from the floor. Yet, the bucket of water next to her was a frothy mess of red.

“An hour,” Clint tsked, shaking his head “I left you alone for an hour. I specifically said that I was coming back with a guest, and it was imperative not to freak her out.”

“I’m not freaked out.”

You were absolutely freaked out. But you were quick to realize whose home you were in. The scrubbing of a crime scene was startling, and you wanted to turn tail and run. However, you had seen worse before and your life had been spared once. You weren’t going to get squeamish now.

“You sound freaked out.” Clint turned his attention back to the girl “And its bad manners. If I were the police?”

“You wouldn’t have gotten through the gate.” She stood, dropping the brush into the bucket with a defiant splash. She was taller than you thought, the deep red of her collar harsh against her skin. There was a smile on her lips, and she reached out a hand to you. “I’m Kate.”

“This is y/n and she’s not going to shake that.” Clint batted Kate’s hand away “Who was this?”

Kate rolled her eyes. It was an action that you yourself would never do. Clint may be a bit aloof, but you had seen him in action. Namely when he was three seconds from snapping the bones in your face. She had no fear of him, though. There was a cockiness, a charming attention, to her stance. He didn’t’ seem to mind, or he had gotten so used to her attitude that seeped into him instead.

“I don’t know. Yelena brought them in. If you’re so concerned about the mess, maybe you should take it up with her.” There was a grin that mirrored Clints. She knew she’d won. “I can go get her if you want.”

“No need. Where’s Nat?”

“Out back by the pool. It’s a lovely day.” She leaned close to you, smelling of cleaner, of tin and of the slightest bit of chewed mint. “It’s great to meet you, y/n.”

You were careful not to lose your footing on the slick floors. Clint nudged the bucket with his toe as he walked by, sloshing about the soiled water. Kate cut him a look that only you saw, but it was one that was almost playful. She shook her head and went back to her task.

There were two things you had picked up from the conversation; Clint was afraid of Yelena, and there was somewhere soundproof in this house that she had taken someone that had lost a lot of blood. You shoved both thoughts to the back of your mind when you exited onto the back porch.

Natasha was stretched out like a cat in the sun. She wore a black bikini that left very little to the imagination. You could feel the blush against your cheeks as you averted your eyes to anywhere else, though, you swore she arched her back from the chair at the sound of your footsteps.

Her hair, still slightly damp, was cascading down her shoulders. She wore a pair of sunglasses, a book that was marked halfway through rested on the table next to her. She had clearly given up on reading, instead fully devoting herself to the sun.

Clint didn’t acknowledge her current state, nor did he have an adverse reaction to it. Your mouth was dry, and you shoved your hands into your jeans to keep them from trembling. It was a mix of fear and attraction that caught you off guard on a mostly empty stomach.

She moved her glasses down the expanse of her nose as you approached. Her stare was a startling green, raking across your form. She quirked an eyebrow. The specter of a smile on her face. Clint had noticed something you didn’t, his body language changing into something unreadable.

“y/n,” Natasha purred your name. You fought back a shiver. “You’ve healed nicely.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“ma’am? What manners you have. That’s severely lacking around here.”

Clint rolled his eyes but kept his mouth shut. You did the same, partly out of fear. But mostly, you were distracted by the scars against her stomach, on her arms and down her back. It wasn’t something you had noticed at first, nor did you permit yourself to stare. Whatever had been done to you when they’d first taken you was nothing compared to what Natasha had been through. Her body told a story, one that you longed to learn.

“Hey sharpshooter,” She turned her attention to Clint “I think Yelena might need your help downstairs. Y/n. Stay.”

It was a clear dismissal, and one that he didn’t’ take lightly. He patted you on the shoulder before entering the house once more. You listened to his footfalls for a few moments, holding your breath until you started to feel your vision falter.

You’d been alone with Natasha before. But this felt different. Heavier. The questions that you’d had these last two weeks were meant to be answered. She gestured for you to sit on the opposite chair, which you did carefully, body tightened to make yourself as small as possible. She removed her glasses entirely, a strand of russet hair falling into her gaze.

“You’re going to quit your job at the diner.” She said.

“I can’t do that,” Your response was automatic.

Natasha sat up, placing her bare feet adjacent to yours. Her knees were pressed against your own. She easily could have pushed your own open and she stared at you as if she contemplated the fact herself. Instead, she lilted her head and peered at you.

“What I mean, ma’am, is that’s my livelihood.”

“Oh, I understand. I wasn’t perfectly clear. You work for me, now. You’re on my payroll. I’m sure it’ll be quite an upgrade.” She leaned closer. “Do you know what I do, y/n?”

You swallowed hard and shook your head. There was an inkling. But it was just speculation. Someone with a home like this had a good handle on business. Natasha certainly conveyed fear, and commanded respect. So did the people who worked for her, willing to take a bullet in moment’s notice.

You weren’t there yet, but you were sure with a little persuasion, you would be. Part of you had felt slighted. They’d pulled you from your life, from your daughter, and threw you into this without any type of explanation.

“The harbor behind you is a center of trade. Whoever controls the harbor controls the city, and for generations my family has had a monopoly when it comes to what comes in and out. There is not a single freight that can dock here without getting past me. Recently, that’s been threatened.”

She sighed and worked a hand through her hair. Her stare flicked past your shoulder, focused on the expanse of water that had been a staple in your life. You’d walk along the docks, chat with the vendors on the way to work. It seemed like a friendly place.

“There are two prominent families in this city, Y/n. The Romanov’s and Danver’s. For the past three years they’ve been pushing back against the real leadership, getting creative. Looking for change. But we simply can’t allow that to happen. Things work as they are.”

You had a feeling that this was the core of her beliefs. Things how they were weren’t so bad. Each person had their own struggles but when it came to integral crime on the streets, in the boroughs, you hadn’t noticed anything and that was the way you liked it. Ignorant, maybe. But it was none of your concern. Not until now.

“A lot of people work for me, but my numbers are dwindling. It’s hard to find good help anymore. You know how it is.”

You didn’t.

“There’s something… in you that I admire. A perseverance to live and protect and you’re going to do exactly that for me.” Natasha stated this plainly. “The Winter Soldier will be predisposed. Not permanently. But I would like you to replace him.” 

There must have been disbelief written across your features because Natasha laughed, actually laughed, as your jaw fell open. It was a lovely sound; you must admit. Bucky was well known in the neighborhood. Even without being knee deep in mafia sludge, you had heard of him. You feared him. And the thought of stirring the same reaction seemed unattainable.

“I… what about Clint?” You asked dumbly. He seemed like the natural choice.

“He’s got his hands full with an heiress who, I’m sure you can tell, is a bit aloof. But extremely valuable. Much like yourself.” She quirked an eyebrow “if it’s experience, you’re worried about, don’t be. I’ll train you myself.”

She stood and tapped your leg with her fingers, arousal shooting straight to your core at the slight contact. Your body almost refused to move, but you were quick to snap out of it when she smiled wolfishly down at you. “Now, have you ever killed anyone?”

Your voice was pinched. “No.”

“We’ll have to change that, darling.” She started to saunter away, grabbing her silk cover-up from the back of a nearby chair. She slid it over her shoulders, and it hugged her form with just enough ferocity as the bathing suit. “Come, dear. I have just the person in mind.”

The basement was significantly cooler than the rest of the house, bathed by the sun. As you descended the stone steps, you fought the urge to smooth your fingers over your skin to quell the frigid air.

Natasha seemed unbothered. She led you into a large room that you assumed was soundproof. It was a fairly empty room, lit with artificial bulbs that reminded you much of the warehouse they’d kept you in for the weekend. This seemed more malicious though. Not something to extract information exactly. A form of punishment.

A man was strung up from a low hanging rafter, his feet barely touching the ground. Rope was tied around his wrists, his hands above his head. Blood dripped like syrup from his lips, from a wound against his side. His left knee looked unnatural and broken.

You fought back a groan at the sight, at the smell of him. One eye was swollen shut, his fingers curling when he noticed Natasha’s presence.

Clint’s back was to you, his fingers dancing over an array of tools. He hummed a Metallica song, stopping at a pair of pliers. Yelena had her arms crossed over her chest, walking a slow, predatory circle around the man.

“No,” Yelena took the pliers from Clint “He will need his teeth to talk.”

Your throat tightened. This was the same woman who had sat next to your daughter in the diner. The one who had complimented her art and your job at raising her. She was easy to have conversations with, charming in the purest sense.

She turned towards both of you. “Natasha, you shouldn’t wear open toed shoes here. It is unsanitary.”

The woman next to you was not admonished in the slightest. Not by the cold or the harsh words of Yelena. Instead, she studied the man in front of you. He was in rough shape. If he hadn’t talked yet, he wasn’t going to. That much was clear.

This felt like the first time you served without following around an older, more experienced waitress. Your fingers were trembling and there was a wild nervousness that was in the pit of your stomach. Eventually, you learned, and it was second nature. You wondered if that’s what Natasha wanted. For you to learn not to cringe away from things like this. Just like the Winter Soldier.

As if to prove your thought process, Natasha said “Which one of you has your gun?”

They both pulled them out of various places at the same time, without hesitation, to the question. It made sense that Natasha didn’t have a weapon on her, not with the outfit that she walked around in. The cover-up was too tight against her skin, too revealing.

Yelena was closer, so Natasha grabbed the weapon from her. “Have you ever shot a gun before?”

“I have.”

Your second foster father was a deputy sheriff in Minnesota. On half-frozen nights, he’d return home from the local bar reeking of sour alcohol and sweat. The door to your bedroom would creak open and he’d drag you from bed, barefoot and in your pajamas.

Most of the time, he had cans set up on an old picnic table that had rotted through. At first, it was your job to set the cans back up and fight off hypothermia. But after three or four sleepless nights, he taught you how to shoot. His body was warm against your back and the first time the gun kicked you had nearly broken your nose.

You considered yourself a good shot when it came to cans, wild turkeys, and even the occasional buck. This was different. This was a human being that was taking in heaving breathes and fighting to pull himself up to give his bad knee a break.

“Do you know how to aim?” Natasha asked.

“It’s been years.”

“Okay,” She breathed.

You flinched when she moved behind you. Her warmth was all encapsulating. She smelled of sunscreen, and vaguely of the salt of the ocean. Natasha’s fingers pressed against your hip, giving you a small squeeze, signaling for you to take a step back.

Her other hand dropped the pistol into yours, heavy and warm. Her hand trailed up your arms, giving you goosebumps, fingers tightening around your own until you held the gun towards the man. The stranger.

Natasha’s chin was on your shoulder, her breathe hot against your cheek. Her voice came out in a whisper. “Right there. When you’re ready.”

She’d aimed the tip of the gun directly between his eyes. You could hear your heartbeat in both ears, vibrating through your body. It wasn’t hesitation, exactly. In this moment, it was his life or yours. Clint and Yelena watched you carefully, with intent.

You took a deep, shaking, breath and clenched your eyes before pulling the trigger. You expected some sort of blow-back. The same throbbing pain that you recalled from shooting at the cans. The scent of gunpowder mixing with cold.

None of those came.

Instead, there was a small click. The safety was on, and though you had squeezed the trigger with the intention to kill, it simply did not fire. You inadvertently slumped back into Natasha and the hand on your hip snaked around your middle, holding you close.

“You won’t have to kill often,” Natasha explained “But it’s good to know you’d do it without question if I tell you to.”

“Oh, Natasha, do not play with her. It is not nice.”

Smoothly, Natasha worked the gun from your hand and switched the safety off before you could blink. She fired two shots in succession, not releasing her hold on you. Your ear was ringing and the man in front of you slumped in his bindings.

“Okay. Very effective. You owe me bullets.” Yelena took her weapon back. “You are cleaning this up.”

“That means I’m cleaning this up.” Clint said.

Natasha hummed in agreement, finally pulling herself away from you. “I think this a job for two, don’t you, y/n?”

There wasn’t room to disagree with her. Not when you could only hear out of one ear, your skin still buzzing from her lingering touch. You could have sworn you felt her own heartbeat against your shoulder blade.

 But you’d never bring that up.

[Taglist🕷♡: @dumbasslesbi, @lostremind, @toocreativeforausername @autorasexy @eringranola @mikookaaaaaao @marvelwoman-simp @pacmanmiles @mostlymarvelsstuff, @mrsrushman, @milfsandtittyenthusiast, @random-raccoon4, @ravenromanova, @mysticalmoonlight7, @ahintofchaos]

[kawacake]

𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞

ᴛᴇɴɢᴇɴ x ꜰᴇᴍ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐧𝐢.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Tengen cheating on his girlfriend’s, Smut, Choking, Mating press, partying, Not proofread, Cursing, Pet names ( good girl, & baby), Size kink (?), Tengen being a little aggressive, and I think that’s it if I missed some Please let me know

𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞 𝐀𝐔!

𝐖𝐜: 𝟒𝐤+

Listen to 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐲 𝐁𝐞𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞́ while reading

Y/N’S DORM - BEDROOM - AFTERNOON

The afternoon sun shined through your dorm window casting a warm orange color on the walls. You sat on your bed scrolling on social media looking at your friends' Instagram stories having a good time like you’d usually do after your classes. Honestly, you weren’t the type to go to parties often anymore unless one of your fellow friends dragged you to one while constantly telling you ‘It’s going to be fun’ or ‘You need to go out this is college our last bit of freedom before adulthood’. Part of what they were saying was right but you were about to be 20 and still didn’t know what you wanted to do with your life.

See me in the club with fifty-eleven girls

You sighed and rolled on your stomach when you got a text from your friend Mitsuri once again trying to get you to come to one of her house parties.

Before you could even respond to the message your phone started to ring, it was Mitsuri. “Hello?” “Y/n please come, you missed my last one!” She said, shouting into the mic. “I know but I have so much work to do.” You said trying to make an excuse so the girl wouldn’t keep asking for you to come to the party. “Don’t lie, your voice starts sounding shaky when you lie.” She says instantly detecting your lie.

“Find I'll come since I didn’t go last time.”

“Good now, open the door!” Was the last thing you heard before the phone hung up and a loud knock was on your door. ‘I didn’t have a choice did I?” You thought to yourself.

Posted in the back, diamond fangs in my grill

Mitsuri was now bent over going through your dresses hoping to find one that she liked. “We can go to the mall. It's like 5 minutes away from the dorms.” You suggested as Mitsuri stood upright with a smile on her face “Let’s go.” She grabbed her things and started to walk out of your dorm as you slid on a pair of Nike slides and followed behind the girl locking your dorm behind you.

The Tokyo lights shined on Mitsuri's window as she calmly drove on the highway. Thank goodness the roads were clear cause that would have been a hell of a ride.

Mitsuri parked close to the entrance so it wouldn’t be too far of a walk for the two of you. “We have to find a dress in under 35 minutes cool? Cool.” She says grabbing your hand as if you were a child that was walking too slow so the mother had to pull them to speed up.

The two wandered around before walking past Victoria's Secret “Wait look at that dress.” Mitsuri said basically squealing as you took a look at the dress “Since when did they sell dresses?” You questioned and started walking into the store.

The store was filled with a floral scent that made you feel at ease as you looked around the store seeing different sets of lingerie, perfumes, and clothing. “Go try these on!” Mitsuri said handing you about three or four dresses and pushed you into the dressing room.

You started to unclothe yourself and slide on the first dress, it had a built in corset so you needed a little help getting into it. “Mitsuri come help.” You call out to the pink and green haired girl as she makes her way into the dressing room with you “I need you to tighten it for me.” You explained to her as she grabbed the two strings and started to tug on them and then tied them.

It’s like she didn’t care about your ribs cause they were screaming for help. “You look beautiful!” She said complimenting you as you looked in the mirror at the black dress and how it hugged your curves “Thank you.” You say turning and smiling at her.

Brooklyn brim with my eyes sittin’ low

“We’re buying this dress.”

“What about the other ones?”

“I told you we had a time limit.”

“MITSURI!”

MITSURI HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT

Party lights shone everywhere as the air reeked of alcohol, weed, and all kinds of substances. You sat in the living room sipping on whatever Mitsuri put in your cup, you had lost her 30 minutes into the party and there was no need to go look for her.

Looking around you saw a couple of people making out, taking shots, and doing lines. But one specific person caught you off guard.

And every boy in here with me got that smoke

Tengen Uzui.

He was a part of a sorority you didn’t know which one and couldn’t care to know which one. He was loud, annoying, and literally has three girlfriends why the fuck would he need three girlfriends is he not satisfied with one?

You looked over to your side to see one of the guys that’s in Tengen's friend group, Rengoku. He was usually loud but whenever alcohol was in his system he was as quiet as a mouse.

“You Y/n right?” Says the 6’6 man you were just thinking about. “Yeah, why?” You asked him as his girlfriends were now staring into your soul. “They were looking for you upstairs, we're about to play truth or drink, Mitsuri thought of it.” He explained with a smirk on his face.

And every girl in here gotta look me up and down

“Thanks for telling me.” You say drinking the rest of what was in your cup and making your way upstairs with Tengen and his girlfriends following behind. “I think I know you.” He is still trying to talk to you “Yeah I do, I follow you on Instagram.” “Wow, really I didn’t know.” You say lying through your teeth.

You saw when he hearted your post and then sent you a follow because you ran to Mitsuri and Shinobu to complain about how a womanizer like him would like your post. To be honest you knew you were being a bit dramatic but you had your reasons.

All on Instagram, cake by the pound Circulate the image every time I come around

“Yeah, you looked gorgeous by the way!” He said as the five of you finally got to the room “I appreciate it.” You say opening the door as it reveals a group of people sitting in a circle. “Finally we’ve been waiting,” Shinobu says with a bottle of Tito’s in her hand.

The five of you sat down in different spots in the circle “Alright let’s start.” She said, spinning the bottle as it landed on Iguro. “Iguro, is it true you fantasized about anyone in this room, if so who?” Shinobu asked as he took a shot glass and poured some of the alcohol into it and instantly downing the drink.

G’s up tell me how I’m lookin’, boy this all for you, just walk my way

It was now iguros turn to spin the bottle and ask a question. The bottle spun and spun till it landed on Sanemi “What’s your weirdest turn on?” “Women holding cats.” He said before grabbing the bottle.

The game went on for 30 minutes more and everyone was a little Tipsy or either drunk as fuck till it was time for Tengen to spin again. The bottle started to slow down near Shinobu and you prayed it wouldn’t land on you but it landed on you.

You knew if you drank anymore you’d be gone as soon as you took the sip. “Y/n… why do you dislike me so much?” He asked while you picked up the bottle and poured some in a shot glass and took it. A hint of disappointment was in his eyes and that was enough to make you get up and leave.

As you started to walk back downstairs to go back to your dorm because you refused to stay the night at Mitsuris house. Before you made it out the door you heard someone call your name as you turned around seeing Tengen walking towards you. “What?” “Are you okay, you should stay the night?” he said, trying to help you and convince you to stay the night at Mitsuri's house but your stubbornness was refusing to let him help you.

“I don’t even know you, why are you trying to help me?” You said pushing him away. “Because you’re under the influence!” He says trying not to shout at you. He could just lift you up but he didn’t want you to hate him more than you already did. “Just go home…”

After he said that you walked to your car and got in and made your way back to the dorms.

Y/N’S DORM - KITCHEN

“Why’d you follow me?” You asked Tengen, who is now sitting at your kitchen table while you only wore an oversized sweatshirt you took from your dad when you were around 15. He looked around seeing that your dorm’s aesthetic had to do with a lot of red. “You have a nice dorm. I didn't know you were a photographer.” He said looking at a shelf that was in the living room area that had all of your cameras on it.

“That has nothing to do with what I asked, why did you follow me?” You demanded an answer from him “I wanted to make sure you were okay and got home safe.” He explained himself. “I don’t even know you so how can I trust that you won’t cause any harm to me.” You said still standing a few inches away from him.

Just tell me how it’s lookin’, babe (x2) I do this all for you, baby, just take aim And Just tell me how it’s lookin’, babe (x2)

“I promise not to hurt you and if I was trying to, I would have done it a long time ago because we have a class together.” He said as you realized you do have a class with him he just barely comes to class.

You walked to the refrigerator, pulled out a bottle of orange juice, and poured yourself a glass. “Who drew that painting of you?” He asked, looking at the portrait of you in the living room. “My mom, she drew me at my sweet sixteen.” A smile appeared on your face and a little feeling of melancholy while you explained to him.

He continued to inspect your dorm and he saw various album CDs and more interesting things you liked that he wouldn’t even be able to tell you liked. “You listen to Miley Cyrus?” He asked, looking surprised when he saw a CD of hers as you shook your head in response.

A black bass guitar on the wall also caught his attention “fuck you play bass.” “Yeah I wanted to be a rockstar, supermodel, party girl but my dad told me that's not a good idea.” You explained to him. Your dad always found ways to shoot down the big plans that you had for yourself. That's why all you do nowadays is go to class, come back to the dorms, and repeat. Your mom on the other hand encouraged you to do all these wild things. Maybe you should call her…

“You want something to drink?” You asked him as he let out a no “Okay well I’m going to bed I have class tomorrow if you need a blanket and a pillow just get one out of the closet ri-” Before you could finish you got interrupted. “I want to sleep with you.”.

“Excuse me…”

“Like in the same bed, I don’t think I can sleep on that couch.” He said as you let out an ‘ooh’ “I have a queen sized bed no way you’re fitting on it.” “Yeah, I know but I really don’t wanna sleep on an uncomfortable couch.” “Fine.”

Drop the bass, mane, the bass get lower Radio say, “speed it up”, I just go slower

Tengen and you were now touching shoulders while laying in bed “Good night.” You say now turning over to your side and attempting to go to sleep. As soon as your eye’s closed you felt a pair of arms wrapping around you. “MOVE!” You say as he smacks his lips before turning to his side to fall asleep.

Engulfed by the darkness your eyes began to get heavy as you heard Tengen soft snores beside you as you slowly began to fall asleep. The only thing you could hear was the sounds of yours and Tengens snores.

High like treble, pumpin’ on the mids

The morning sun shined down on your face as you sat up and looked over to where Tengen was lying the previous night just to see him gone. You sighed and stood up from your bed and made your way into the kitchen to make a small breakfast before you got ready and headed off to class.

As soon as you started letting your coffee brew you saw a tall figure walk out of your bathroom. It startled you a little but you soon went back to normal when you saw him looking at you. “Why didn’t you go home?” You questioned him “Because my girlfriend had brought me some clothes for class today.” He answered your question “You could have gone with her instead of staying at my dorm now what if someone suspects something.” “Then let them.” He says walking towards you.

Rolling your eyes at him and grabbed the coffee pot pouring just enough into your coffee mug as Tengen was now standing behind you. “Make me a cup.” He said hovering over you, he was so close you could feel the heat radiating from him. “Make it yourself.” You say walking away from him to grab the coffee creamer to add to your coffee, you open the refrigerator and bend over to grab the creamer from the bottom shelf of the fridge.

The oversized shirt you had on slowly slid up showing the burgundy colored lace panties you had on as Tengen inspected closely. “Don’t look too hard babe.” You say standing up straight and closing the fridge before you feel a hard slap on the ass.

A man ain’t ever seen a booty like this

“FUCK TENGEN have some decorum you literally have three girlfriends respect them.” You say placing a hand where he just smacked “It’s not like they like you so why should you care.” He says as he watches you sip some of your coffee. It didn’t matter if they didn’t like you, it's a matter of respect, if your bf slept over a girl you didn’t like and slapped her ass and even slept in the same bed as her you’d want her to act the same way you’re acting.

You always hated the way Tengen acted. He thought just because he was popular he could have any girl he wanted but you weren’t about to let that slide and be one of his hookup buddies but Instead of answering you walked away from him and entered your room to get ready for your day.

Opening your closet and grabbing a denim skirt with a white button up that had heart shaped buttons your mom made for you and then reaching for a pair of shoes that matched the shirt. Once you had everything you needed you walked into your bedroom to shower.

While you were showering, Tengen sat at the kitchen table waiting for you.

And why you think ya keep my name rollin’ off the tongue

UNIVERSITY CLASSROOM - PHOTOGRAPHY

You walked to your usual seat setting your things down. As the class slowly started to fill up with students you saw Tengen walk in with his three girlfriends as the three girls took a seat four rows ahead of you. Tengen then whispered something to Makio as her face turned red and Tengen started walking your way.

‘Fuck.’ You thought to yourself

Taking a seat next to you he smiled while running his hands through his hair. “What did you say to the poor girl?” You asked as he turned to look at you with a smirk. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” He said still smirking, you couldn’t lie he was hella attractive you’d fall for him if he wasn’t such a dick.

‘Cause when he wanna smash, I’ll just write another one

“Yeah, I would actually.” You said smirking yourself “I told her if she lets me sit with you I’d fuck he-” he couldn’t finish before you slapped a hand over his mouth to prevent him from saying anything out of pocket. “I thought you wanted to know.” He said before you rolled your eyes and turned your focus away from him. “Yeah well, I take it back Mr. Flashy.” “You roll your eyes a lot. I'd like to see them rolling back.”

“Cut it out.” “Alright..”

I sneezed on the beat and the beat got sicker

As class started Tengen was really focused, the sun shined on his silver hair that he let down today. He looked really attractive as the sun shined on him and he was really focused on what the professor was saying. You wanted to know what he wanted to do after college but you didn’t dare to ask.

“Don’t look too hard, my girlfriends will get jealous.” He said, still not looking your way, “I was just inspecting you.” You responded.

“No need to lie, I know I look handsome.” “Don’t stroke your ego too much.” “I know something you can stroke.” He said as you pressed your lips in a thin line and slowly looked over at him “Shut up.” “Yes ma’am!”.

“Why did you just randomly decide to bother me yesterday like I don’t know anything about you other than you being a womanizer.” You say to him “I am NOT a womanizer.” “Well, the way you’re acting now is saying otherwise.” “My turn to say shut up, shut up y/n.”.

Yoncé all on his mouth like liquor (x9)

“Come over after class I’ll buy us lunch and we could watch a movie or something.” He says, sounding as if he really meant it. “I’ll go if you don’t try to seduce me.” “I can’t make any promises.” He said resting his head on his hands.

“Alright, I’ll go.” You agreed to go

After that class seemed to pass by quickly and now it was 12:45 you stood up and grabbed your belongings and stood up as Tengen stood beside you basically towering over you. “Ima go tell them something, go wait outside of the building so they won’t suspect anything.” He explained to you as you looked up at him “I feel like you’re ashamed of me.” You responded to him in a joking manner “Just go.”.

“.”

“Go.”

“OKAY!”

Soon you made your way out of the building and sat on the nearest bench and waited for Tengen. Slowly you’re starting to grow fond of him and it’s only been a day, you hated that.

Drive roll up the partition please (x2)

After what felt like an eternity you saw him walking out of the building. “I’m ready.” He says while walking to his car and you start following behind.

“Where do you wanna eat from so by the time we get to my house the food would be almost there.” He explained to you “Wingstop.” You say entering the car and he did too soon turning it on so the cool air could cool the both of you down. “Alright, what do you want?” He asked you to open up the Doordash app as you started to think about what you wanted.

“8 pc wing combo boneless.” “Alright.” He Let out adding your order then his and paid for the food. “How much was mine?” You ask pulling out your wallet as he stops you “No need I got it.” He assured you and started to drive as you slipped your wallet back into your bag.

I don’t need you seeing ‘Yonce on her knees

15 minutes passed and you were now pulling up at his house and opened his door then practically ran over to yours to open it for you “A gentleman.” You say in a joking tone stepping out of the car. “The food should be here soon.” He said stepping into the house “But for right now what do you wanna do?” He asked

“I don’t know.” You say as he lets out a sigh and brings you to the kitchen table. “Let’s get to know each other, what do you wanna do after college?” “I have no idea” you respond to him “Okay your turn ask me a question.” “Why’d you want me to come here?”.

“Because I thought you were hot.” “Typical Uzui.” You say putting your head in your hands. His nose scrunched up when you said that.

Took forty-five minutes to get all dressed up we ain’t even gon’ make it to this club

Before he could say anything the notification that the food had arrived popped up on his phone “Ima go get the food.” He said standing up, walked to the door to grab the food, and made his way back.

“Here.” He handed you your food and drink “Thank you.” You said smiling at him.

“I still wanna know why you hated me so much.” He said eating one of his wings. “I have no solid reason.” You say looking away from him he then grabs your chin forcing you to look at him “So you’re a hater is what you’re saying?” “Maybe.” You said as he removed his hand away from you.

Now my mascara running, red lipstick smudged

After eating the two of you cleaned up the table and you went into the bathroom to wash your hands because the sauce on the wings made your hands sticky. Tengen was behind you waiting so he could wash his. “So are we going to watch a movie now or what?” You asked while he dried his hands.

He didn’t respond but continued to dry his hands as you frowned at him ignoring you. “Teng-” “Shut up, you talk a lot.” He said turning around and placing his lips on yours.

Your eyes opened wide at the sudden kiss before you pulled away from him. “We can’t..” you say looking away from him as he sighed and started leaving kisses on your neck. “Why because of Hinatsuru, Makio, and Suma?” “Yes, now stop.” You said pushing him away.

Oh, he so horny, yeah, he wants to fuck

“Come on, I know you want to.” He said looking down at you “Yeah I want to but it’s wrong.” You say as he throws his head back “Don’t be so difficult let’s do it just this one time.”.

“Just this one time?”

“Just this one time.” He said looking down at you with pleading eyes.

You nodded your head as he kissed you and your back hit the bathroom wall as he took the chance to unbutton your shirt. The button up hit the floor as he took his shirt off and soon pressed his lips back on you.

He popped all my buttons and he ripped my blouse

He then lifted you up and then exited the bathroom and made his way into his bedroom. He dropped you on the bed and started taking off his pants as you did the same, he made his way up to you while leaving kisses on your thighs and stomach as you let out soft moans.

“You like that hm?” He said looking up at you, you swore you could cum from just the way he was looking at you. You nodded your head as he moved your panties to the side “Already wet and we haven’t even done anything yet.” He said before he licked your bud as you covered your mouth because he barely did anything and you were already moaning.

He Monica Lewinski’d all on my gown

He licked your clit one more time before he entered two fingers in you as your breathing sped up as his fingers seemed to go faster every passing second. “Slow down.” You say no longer trying to hold in your moans while gripping the sheets.

His fingers reached places you couldn’t as your eyes rolled back slightly as his tongue sucked on your clit. You felt your high slowly creeping up on you as your palm started turning red from your nails digging into it.

Tengen could tell you were close so he removed his fingers and sat up as you looked at him a little confused. “Why’d you stop?” You asked as he smiled at you just a little “Suck me off and I’ll let you cum.” He said taking off his boxers.

Whoa there daddy, daddy didn’t bring the towel

He was now laying on his back as you wrapped your hand around his dick as he let out a sigh. Your tongue circled around the tip before you put it in your mouth.

“Fuck” he let out while grabbing your hair pushing your head down further as your eyes started to water a tad bit as saliva started to fall down to your chin as you looked up at him to see him already looking down at you.

He then looked away from you and continued to push your head back and forth. He let out loud “Good girls, and you’re doing good baby” occasionally before you felt his cum shoot down your throat as he let out a breathy moan.

Whoa baby, baby we better slow it down

You let out a small cough and wiped your mouth. With one swift move, you were now under Tengen. He leaned down to press a kiss on your lips while grinding his dick on your cunt as the two of you let out moans and groans into the kiss.

He pulled away from the kiss and whispered to you “Are you ready?” He asked as you shook your head yes. To be honest you didn’t even think it would fit but it’s worth a try.

He put the tip near your entrance, you bit your lip to keep you from moaning as he slowly pushed the tip in. Soon the whole thing was in as an outline of his dick could be seen in your stomach. “Fuck.” He said while grabbing your hand guiding it to where the bulge in your stomach was. He kept your hand there while he started thrusting into you.

Took forty-five minutes to get all dressed up And we ain’t even gon’ make it to this club

His thrust was harsh, making the bed rock and headboard bang into the wall. He wanted to be deeper in you so he grabbed your legs and put you in a mating press position. You grabbed his hand guiding it to your throat as he looked at you a little shocked while still thrusting in you.

His fingers then wrapped around your neck squeezing it just a little.

The sound of moaning, wet sounds, and his balls slapping against your ass. You felt your high coming as you gripped his back as his thrust seemed to speed up. Not even a second later you felt yourself cuming as your cunt tightened around him.

Take all of me I just wanna be the girl you like, girl you like

After a few more thrusts from him, you felt his cum fill you up as he let out a long groan. He then plopped beside you.

“Sorry if I was too rough.” He said turning to his side to look at you. “It’s okay.” You said as your eyes slowly started to get heavy “You going to sleep?” “Nah I’m just taking long blinks.” You say being sarcastic.

He pulled you closer so your head was resting on his chest. “I’ll wake you up in a few.” He whispered to you but you were already asleep as he let out a sigh. He then started to fall asleep himself.

I just wanna be the girl you like, girl you likeThe kinda girl you like is right here with me Right here with me, right here with me, right here with me, right here with me

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠. 𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲🩷

[veroniquesboutique]

A Good First Impression - Atsushi Murasakibara x AFAB!Reader

I am feral over Atsushi Murasakibara. Worms using my brain for food type of feral. Foaming at the mouth type of feral.

He is unironically my phone background type of feral.

So, uh....here's this. Personally, I feel real great about it, so I hope you enjoy it as well.

Title: A Good First Impression

Rating: Explicit

Warnings:

AFAB!Reader, Female Reader, f-receiving oral, fingering, it is genuinely only him eating you out, mention of m-receiving handjob, super intense orgasm, squirting, reluctance/hesitation about the squirting but not quite dubcon/noncon, baby used regularly as pet name, college au, fear of getting caught, getting caught after the fact, home for the holidays, parent mention

Characters & ships: boyfriend!Murasakibara Atsushi x AFAB!Reader

Word count: 2.6k words

Summary: Your long-term boyfriend is nervous about staying at your childhood home and meeting your parents for the first time for four reasons:

1 - He's tall, and people tend to comment on it. Too much. 2 - First impressions are a big deal, and what if he fucks it up with his future in-laws? 3 - He met you in college and is terrified of learning something about the you from before (spoiler: you pass the test!) 4 - He can't keep his hands off of you, and he doesn't want the embarrassment of getting caught.

18+ Minors DNI!

More explicit below the cut

Atsushi Murasakibara was nervous to meet your parents for many reasons.

First, his height. This was the first time he was meeting your family, and your parents weren’t exactly short per se, but he was a towering 6’10”. He hated new people having to crane their neck up to look at him, he hated the same three questions and two jokes that every person tells when they meet someone as tall as him, and he hated that he was going to have to learn the careful layout of your childhood home since it was likely not designed with someone of his towering stature in mind. It was always so embarrassing when he’d bump his head on too-low ceiling fans or when he had to bend too far to reach the sink. No one really realizes how weirdly isolating it feels to be at least a head taller than everyone around you, and that’s if he’s lucky. It definitely makes the first impression game much harder.

Second, the holidays. For some reason, instead of meeting your parents for the first time at a low-stakes dinner or briefly in public, he agreed to stay for a week for the holidays at your house. It wasn’t ideal, but they lived in the countryside, and a hotel would have been so inconvenient, so you two decided to stay with your parents. He even sat through the awkward conversation where you all had to figure out if he was sleeping in your room or on the couch. Your parents weren’t exactly the most conservative people in the world - they knew you lived with him now for God’s sake, so it’s not like they had no idea what you two got up to - but everyone was deeply uncomfortable with the suggestion of anything happening under their roof. That being said, none of their couches could handle him - re: the aforementioned height problem - so they made the disgruntled decision to let you two room together. Just no locking the door.

On top of it all, he wanted to bring them gifts, but he had no idea where to even start with holiday gifts for future in-laws he’d never met. You insisted that he didn’t really have to get them anything and that they’d be thankful for anything he put thought into, but that didn’t ease the burden of deciding if your dad was a beer guy or if he was a tool guy or if he was a sports guy or a grill guy or a music guy. The options made his head spin, and that’s not even touching all the possible gifts he could get your mother. This was it - THE first impression - and if he didn’t get it right, he was afraid of a rocky relationship with them forever.

Third, your childhood. He didn’t know you before you two met in college, so everything about you before you moved to the city is a complete mystery to him. His worst nightmare was discovering something about you that he would never be able to unsee. He had always hated the vulnerability in this moment in all of his previous relationships, and it had soured more than one relationship well before its expiry date.

The night you arrived, you showed him to your room, and he held his breath as you swung the door open for him. He walked in, looking around, waiting for the weird childhood shoe to drop, but…it didn’t. The room was fairly normal. It looked like it could be a teenage room in a movie. It seemed stale, set in time, but it didn’t give him the same feeling of ick throughout his body. Carefully, shelf by shelf, he investigated your knickknacks and decorations and memories, and everything he saw made him love the small piece of you that he knew more than the last. By the time he had overturned every stone in your room, his heart was beating harshly in the rhythm of your name.

“You look like you were expecting something crazy,” You laughed at him, having watched him snoop through your past.

He looked at you, his eyes full of warmth. “I was. I didn’t find anything.”

And then he snuck a kiss.

Fourth, the final most important reason he was nervous was you. Well, to be more specific, he was nervous because he couldn’t keep his hands off of you, and this trip wasn’t going to change anything.

He was nervous because he didn’t want to get caught.

“Ah-Ah, ‘Sushi!” You moan, high pitched and trying to keep the volume low as you wiggle in his grip in an attempt to free yourself from the intensity of his tongue between your legs. Your wrist is pressed against your lips to dampen the sound. He tightens his grip on the back of your thighs, pushing your legs further apart and against your body, opening you up for him, and his tongue continues roughly sliding against your sensitive, buzzing clit.

“They aren’t home. You can be loud,” He grunts against you before wrapping his lips around you and sucking you into his mouth, and you can’t help it as you throw your head back and cry out at the feeling.

“They could be home any second!” You hiss, your hips bucking involuntarily against his face, and in response, he moans deeply, sending tingles through your body.

“Then cum before they get back.”

Biting your lip and panting, nearly winded, you stare down at him, meeting his eyes watching you just over your pelvis, and when his tongue dips into you and presses against your trembling walls, you moan loudly with a furrowed brow. Your fingers tangle through his messy purple strands, pushing his face against your core harder.

He slurps the messy wetness dripping out of you, the sound lewd enough to make you blush. “God, you taste so good,” He groans into you, his tongue desperate. “It’s been too long.”

“It’s been three days!” You laugh breathlessly, body convulsing at the small nudges of his nose against your clit as he drinks you in.

“And that’s three days too many,” he complains, shaking his head and smearing his face against the slickness between your legs. “I can’t wait like that. I need you all the time.”

You pant in response, unable to form words when his tongue finds your clit again, brushing against it at a punishing pace. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, your stomach spasming, and he finally releases one of your legs from his controlling grip just to slide it up your needy slit and dip one of his long fingers into you. You nearly cum then, your back arching so aggressively that you hit your head against the wall, and he can’t help the small laugh that rumbles against your nerves.

“Careful, babe,” He mutters, curling the single finger inside you, and the feeling is such a warm, pleasurable tightness in your core.

“I’m going to cum,” You whisper, dropping your jaw open in pleasure, and you feel his smile in response.

“I’m not done yet, so if you cum now, you’re going to have to handle it when I keep going.”

You whimper, lip quivering and body shaking. Breathing, you attempt to stave off the orgasm that has you dangling off the edge of sanity. He slows his movements, watching you closely as he wrings you of cute little sounds and moans and shivers, and it helps when you suck in air, huffing through your nose to stop the trembling in your lower abdomen.

“Y-you said cum before they get back,” You counter, hissing the words through your teeth as you lean up, your toes curling tightly. His tongue helicopters against your throbbing clit, and he takes the hand that was on the back of your other thigh and places it atop your pelvis, pressing down as the finger still deep inside presses up, and you feel the telltale tightening in your core that makes you panic a little.

“You can choose to cum now and be overstimulated, or you can choose to cum later at the risk of your parents hearing you,” He looks up over you with a smile, a second finger suddenly pushing into you to meet the other. “I’m a believer in autonomy.”

As his two fingers now press into the gummy sweet spot in you, you confirm the tightening is definitely going to cause many, many more problems than he’s considering. You bring your hands to grip the bedding below you, trying to wiggle away again. “’Sushi, I-I, wait, I’m going to-” You frustratingly cut yourself off with a groan as his mouth finds your clit again.

“Going to what, babe?” His voice rumbles against you, and there’s a soft wash of pleasure moving through you like waves against a shore. You can only think that it’s going to be a pain to clean after this.

“It’s going to-I’m going to-”

“Aw, baby, I need you to use your words,” He teases, batting his eyelashes innocently when you shoot him a glare.

“I’m going to make a mess,” You grunt through gritted teeth, raising your eyebrows in hopes of him understanding the euphemism, and when it clicks in his brain, his eyes go bright and wide.

He hums darkly, pressing his fingers into you deeper and earning a surprised squeal out of you. “You’re going to squirt for me, baby?”

“God, I hate that word!” You yelp, involuntarily grinding your hips down onto him and panting out in tight, restrained pleasure. “You-you gotta stop now, I-”

“I wouldn’t dare waste this opportunity. You know I love making a mess of you.” His voice is dark, his eyes still teasing as he draws circles around your clit, and between the stretch of his now scissoring fingers, the pressure on your pelvis from his large hand, and his unrelenting pace on your sensitive spots, you’re seeing stars.

Falling back, you groan again, the feeling of uncomfortable tightening worsening deep in you. “The bedding!” You exclaim, arching your back, “I can’t-ah, fuck, I’ll mess up the bedding.”

“Your parents have a washer.”

“The bedding was from my grandmother,” You groan, scrunching up your face and writhing, closing your thighs around his head when it gets too intense. Hyperventilating, you press the side of your face into the pillow, bringing your hand to your face to bite down on your hand to quell the rocking of pleasure inside you now.

“Pity,” He mumbles, distracted too much by the sounds pouring from your mouth, the clenching of your pussy, the taste of your arousal coating his tongue, the slick sounds of his fingers deep in you, and the promise of even more to come (literally and figuratively). “We should’ve put a towel down, huh?”

You groan, frustrated by his lackadaisical demeanor but unable to communicate it as the feeling of pleasure floods your body. You can feel your eyes go a little hazy, and moments later, you call out, your orgasm hitting you like a wall of bricks. It feels like an electric shock through your body, every muscle in your body tensing with a tight zap as the dam breaks inside of you. You squirt, gushing and coating the bed and, effectively, Atsushi’s face, and the only thing that cuts through the absolute sensory overload of your pleasure is his praise that he groans against your skin.

“That’s it, baby, that’s so good. Feel it, c’mon, you can breathe. You taste so good, thank you, baby, thank you.”

With your heavy pants and soft, whimpering moans as aftershocks of the orgasm reverberate through you, your pussy pulses and throbs in time with your heart, and when he softly pushes into you one last time to wring the rest of it out of you, you squeak out a last whine as the final wave of your cum rushes out of you and over his hand. He chuckles at the sight, pulling out of you and dragging his tongue up his fingers while making dark, teasing eye contact with you. Watching his tongue work to lick all of your cum off his skin, your body trembles with both your world-shattering orgasm and the sudden impending need that pulses through you yet again already.

“Kiss me?” You breathe softly, lips barely parted, and he cracks a wide smile, laughing like he’s disbelieving of you.

“You’re going to be the death of me, baby.” His voice is tense and dark with desire, and he crawls up your body slowly, and he meets your mouth with his extended tongue. You lick against it, tasting yourself, and he moans out loud, his hips pressing against yours. His length, hard and impressive, rubs against you, and the friction makes you cry out. You’re too sensitive and overstimulated, but he just smirks against your lips. “I told you to choose carefully. I wasn’t done with you.”

His hand drags down your body, feeling your curves with a hint of possession in his grasp. When he reaches his waist where his hips are pressing into yours, he grips his belt, pulling at the buckle, ripping it through the belt loops on his pants -

The front door opens. The sound of rustling bags floats up to your room. The floorboards creak.

Your eyes go wide in panic.

“Sweetheart?” Your mother calls up the stairs. “We’re home! Atsushi and you should come down and help us with dinner.”

“Get up, get up!” You mutter under your breath, gently batting at his shoulder as he frantically slides off you and off the bed, fixing his belt and helping you by pulling your bedding off. You’re searching for clothes, quickly pulling them on your legs.

The stairs whine as someone climbs step by step.

Your face burns at the impending embarrassment. Atsushi is struggling to hide his arousal with his clothes, and you’re struggling to wipe the slowly drying slick from between your thighs. Your bedding lays in a crumpled, suspicious ball on your mattress.

“Sweetheart?” Your mother asks again, her voice much closer than before.

The doorknob jiggles against the lock.

“C-coming!” You call back, pushing your fingers through your hair as Atsushi wipes his hands down his face to clean up any mess left behind.

“Your door’s-”

You cut off your mother’s inquiry about the locked door by swinging it open. “Sorry, force of habit,” You laugh, opening the door wide enough that she can see Atsushi sitting at your desk with his phone in his hand. He nods a greeting at her.

Her eyes flit to your unmade bed, back down to you, and back over to Atsushi. A slight blush covers her cheeks. “We…we brought groceries for dinner. Would you two like to come help?”

You look over your shoulder at Atsushi who meets your gaze. After a moment, he shrugs and nods. “Sure, we’d love to.”

“Great…come…down when you’re ready,” Your mother says awkwardly, quickly excusing herself back down the stairs. Once you hear her shoes click into the kitchen, you shut the door again, pressing your back to it as you finally let the air in your lungs go in a long sigh. You look up at Atsushi who is trying to bite back his laughter.

“Do you think she noticed?” You wince, knowing the answer.

“Oh yes, absolutely. She knows everything,” He stands, lumbering across the room towards you. He kisses your nose, his hand meeting yours on the doorknob. “Let’s go help with dinner.” He thinks. “And maybe later you can pay me back with a handjob in the shower.”

You groan, the thought of the blush on your mother’s face making your embarrassment burn brighter. “Absolutely not.”

[its-time-to-write]

Ohhh love to see you’re back! 💜💜💜💜

How about a Jaime x baker!girlfriend? Maybe she doesn’t really know who he is so when he acts all arrogant she just throws him out of her bakery? And he’s like “her! I want her! I’m in love! 🥰 🥰🥰🥰”

Still feeling a bit rusty lol. Next on the docket is the married at first sight fic. Not sure how long or short it’ll be but I’m doing my best!! Thanks for the requests🩵🩵

god, it’s brutal out here

“How many cakes do we have?” you mutter. “Four. Four cakes. I should’ve stuck to pastries. But nooo, I had to show off my fancy decorating. Fuck me.”

The door chimes, signifying the first customer of the day. You sigh, slap one more sticky note on the wall, then head to the front.

Today will be like every other day, which is nice; a revolving door of customers, some looking for a quick bite and others placing larger orders for weddings, birthdays, dinner parties. 

Baking is a ritual; you wake up early every morning, make a fresh cup of coffee, then begin mixing, kneading, and measuring. It’s a dance; you weave between the fridge, the oven, and the counters. It’s a science; you slice with precision, check temperatures for perfection, bake until golden.

Late in the afternoon, after you’ve closed, you’ll bring leftover bread and desserts to your flat for your friend group’s weekly dinner. Everyone will contribute something, from appetizers to mains to drinks. The weather is nice enough that dinner will be in your backyard and you mentally choose dishes as you take customer orders. 

Your bakery closes in five minutes when the bell jingles once, twice, three times. You sigh. Three fucking closers. 

The last is a man around your age and you won’t lie, he’s objectively good looking. But his teeth are just a little too sharp and his clothes are just a little too flashy. He’s like one of those frogs, brightly colored so you know they’re poisonous.

He rattles off a long order without giving you a moment to really take it down and then just stares expectantly at you when you tell him the total.

“Cash or card..?” you ask after a beat. The man tilts his head.

“Neither..?” he replies, mirroring your tone. “I’m Jamie Tartt.”

You grimace. “And you expect free pastries because your last name is on the menu?”

“I’m Jamie Tartt,” he says again. “I’m like, really fucking famous.”

He has a stupid grin plastered on his face and you really can’t tell if he’s joking or not.

You stare at him in disbelief. “I don’t have time for this. I think you should go.”

Jamie’s a little shocked. It takes him a moment to actually register your words but he does. He turns on his heel and you lock the door behind him, breathing a sigh of relief. Any thoughts of his beautiful face are distorted by his shit, entitled personality.

—

“I brought tequila,” says Dani with a grin. “And a friend.”

The dinner party is already in full swing but this is classic Dani. Always late, always with tequila, always with a surprise.

“Any friend of yours is a friend of ours,” you reply. “Everyone’s out back. Flo’s grilling and Ed’s in charge of music.”

You and Dani shake your head. Ed should not be in charge of music. 

“I will go fix this,” Dani says and then he’s off, leaving you alone with his friend.

You turn to introduce yourself and see-

“Jamie Tartt,” you state. It’s all you can do to hold in a snarl.

“Hey,” he says, and at least he’s sheepish. How someone like him is friends with Dani is beyond you.

It does make a little bit more sense, though. Dani is a footballer (you know that at least) so you’re assuming Jamie must be in that world as well. You should have known, he was the exact type of pretty and stupid you’ve found most footballers to be, professional or otherwise.

“What’s your problem?” you ask bluntly. “You’re friends with Dani, but you’re an entitled dick. How does that work?”

The tips of Jamie’s ears tinge red. “I- it’s not like that. I mean, it fucking was like that but not anymore and besides- was flirting.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“It’s true!” he hastily continues, “just were doing a piss-poor job. Didn’t come out like I meant it to.”

“You can say that again,” you agree and Jamie flinches, slightly.

“I am sorry,” he says. “Didn’t mean to be a prick. Roy says it’s just the way I am, it’s in my fucking bones or something. I’m working it though,” he adds. “I can tell you about sometime. Maybe over dinner?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Are you seriously asking me out right now?”

Jamie shrugs. “What have I got to lose? You already look like you fuckin’ hate me. Can’t get much lower than that.”

“Maybe,” you reply. “Going to ask need a drink first though. If you’re friends with Dani you’ve got to have something going for you, but I still think you’re a bit of a prick.”

Jamie smiles. “I can work with that, love. Let’s get you that drink.”

[deathbxnny]

Woooo, congrats on 1k followers, sure has been a ride, huh?

Now, with requests back open, it's time time for the sequel to my Arle request!

Okay so, like I said in that ask I sent a while ago, this one takes place in the same "continuity" as the angsty af Arle request you did last req period. This one takes place some time after that story, and is less angsty in this case (but there's definitely still some here).

Here, similarily to the last request, the "Mother" of the House is staying in... let's say Fontaine, tending to one of the injured children (could be some rando kid, or maybe it's one of the Fontaine trio) after a mission. Unlike last time though, it's looking as though the child will pull through, that "Mother" won't have to bury another of her kids!

Bad news tho, the people responsible for the child's injuries are coming around to finish what they started. Arle, who's handling business elsewhere, catches wind of this and makes haste to help her wife.

Little did those who came to finish the child realize what danger they're in. Because you see, fem!reader is a former child of the House of Hearth. Not just that, she's the wife of a Harbinger. Normally she doesn't engage in violence, but these people Hage intentions of ending her child's life, and she simply cannot let that slide.

And so, Arle arrives just in time to bare witness to her s/o going absolutely John Wick (does she kill anyone with a pencil? That's up to you 🤭) on the bandits who dared to cross her not once, but twice.

(Part one) (part three) (Part four)

Ohoho.... I absolutely love this, dear Anon, and I'm hoping you'll love my spin on this as well!! Although I have to admit that I gave it a bit of a mellow end, instead of the "John Wick" type of ending, mainly because I found it more fitting with what I was going for... but anyhow, thank you so much for this request, I was definitely looking forward to it, hehe!!<33

Content: Some gore, Near character death, mentions of near fatal injuries/wounds, blood, mentions of grief/child loss, Reader snapping, violence, assassination attempts, Reader is referred to as "Mother", heavy angst, hurt/comfort, kind of a good ending for once?, stitches

Reader uses she/her pronouns here!!

((Not proofread))

The last one standing had crimson palms. (Arlecchino x Fem!Reader)

"I... I wish to..." "Shh... not another word, child... don't you dare say it." Your hands were stained red once more, pressing down on another gashing, deep wound, sweat running down your forehead as everyone around you attempted to stop the bleeding. You didn't want him to see what had become of him, one hand resting over his teary eyes to stop your heart from shattering any further. You wished she was here, your dearest wife, who had to choose this week of all the others to leave the country for a short business trip.

And today was supposed to be a good day. One filled with the laughter of children and the smell of grilled sausages and steaks coming from the garden. You were trying to have a little festival together to celebrate the start of warmer months. But the atmosphere had now become suffocating with the smell of sharp iron and sweat instead, the gentle warmth now scorching hot, exhausting, and grinding you down to the bone. However, you couldn't let go of him now. You couldn't let him die. You refused to give up on him, especially. You refused to let him become another buried angel.

His hand pressed against yours weakly, his breaths deep, pathetic gasps for air, as he tried telling you something important through broken cries. "Mother... Mother, please, you have to listen to me." He coughed out, blood staining his lips, as his other hand reached out blindly to grasp onto the fabric of your once white sundress. You furrowed your brows against the darkness of the room, light only filtering in through the moon outside and the shaky hands of Lynette trying to keep a lantern steady so her twin could keep patching his younger brother up.

"What is it, Freminet?" You indulged him, trying to keep him awake at all costs. His voice was hoarse, raspy, once silky blonde hair now sticking to his forehead as he gulped dryly to collect his thoughts.

"They are coming for us, mother... and you are next."

Lyney gave you a look, one filled with an undefined emotion he only ever had when it came to your protection. If you didn't know better, you would've been terrified at how similar he was becoming to his father. "Those assassins we encountered during our mission, Mother... they weren't ordinary ones, to say the least." He muttered to you, his mind replaying the moment one of them struck his brother, who was just trying to protect them out of pure instinct. He was brave, despite the shyness he often portrayed.

"How so?" You wiped away the sweat on your forehead, nose wrinkling when another member of the house handed you a medkit before they disappeared into the shadows again. "They... knew us by name. Every single one of us. And then-" You waved over Lynette to stand in your place whilst her twin spoke, so you could unpack the needed supplies for the upcoming "operation" you had to conduct on your son. You've become a near professional over the years. Something else you didn't choose to do nor want to be.

"-They uttered your name. We... believe that they are trying to weaken Father. And you are that weakness they are seeking, Mother.-" "-They've come to finish the job. We... we need to evacuate everyone.. we need to hide her.-" Lynette hushed Freminet quickly, as she pressed some cloth into his mouth. With a glance downwards to his wound, she determined that it would definitely hurt horribly to stitch him up... but he'd live. For the first time in weeks, someone would live. She closed her eyes to hide those tears that threatened to spill in relief.

You stared at the three of them for a moment before you simply proceeded with placing the first few stitches into the boy's wound wordlessly. He writhed in pain, his fingernails digging into the mattress below whilst his screams and cries were muffled by the cloth. Lyney and Lynette were trying to hold him down, their bodies wincing involuntarily at every sharp breath or movement from their brother. Your expression was meanwhile unreadable, hands moving automatically until you cut the string and were done with your little procedure. It's as if your mind completely fazed out, only driven by the need to fix and protect, keep everyone alive no matter what.

"Lyney." The young man hesitantly met your gaze, his body shaking when his brother fell limply into the bed again, his breathing heavy and uneven. "Evacuate everyone into the upper floors and then come back to watch over Freminet." You said, quick to wipe your hands with a nearby towel nearly coldly, but Lyney knew that look in your eyes. You were sick of it and would take it all into your own hands if your wife couldn't. "Mother, you can't just-" "-Lynette, use the backdoor and let this bird free." You tapped the golden cage on the nightstand with your fingers, the little sparrow chirping curiously. It was a messenger bird, one specifically designed to catch your wife's attention and bring her home instantly when things got out of control.

But you weren't using it for it's purpose tonight. No, everything was completely under control here... you just needed her to come back home to stop you once you're done.

"Mother-" A sharp look made him quickly reconsider what he was about to say, a hand pressing against his chest whilst he bowed. "... we're on it." Lyney muttered, signaling Lynette to love with him, which she did after grabbing the bird cage. Their paths split at the stairs, the girl practically descending them two steps at a time, which got the attention of their fellow bretheren immideatly. "Everyone! Get into the attic or your rooms at once! Mother's orders, so get moving! Barricade your doors and don't open them up to anyone! This is an absolute emergency!" Everyone jumped when they heard the usually playful magicians voice bark out orders harshly, automatically getting the job done as everyone filed up the stairs to do as he said.

Lyney pushed through the crowd to continue looking for stray children who may not have heard him. His heart was racing against his ribcage, sweat dripping off his forehead he could only barely wipe off with a handkerchief he accidentally dropped when someone bumped into him. But your orders were clear in his mind and kept him steady. He knew that he and most, if not all, other kids of the house could take care of themselves just fine... but this was something beyond their means. Something usually only Father got to handle.

By the time he finally got back to his brothers room, you had left it behind, nowhere to be found, and yet the injured boy had a simple blanket covering his shivering form now, dressed in clean clothes and resting on perfectly white bedsheets. Lyney waited by the door, his hand gripping the handle tightly, as he listened to his sisters familiar steps running towards him. He let her in, eyes glancing around the dim hallway one more time before he tipped his hat down and shut the wooden entrance again.

The only sound heard for a moment after was the chirping of a bird in the dead of night until deafening silence filtered in once more.

---

The house of Hearth was never still and unmoving, not even in the darkest parts of the day. The late hours were the busiest, filled with agents and children alike walking in and out of it's doors under the cover of shadows to complete their given tasks and missions. The iron, bloody scent left behind by their previous endeavors, their hushed words to eachother as they passed by, the movement of paper being hidden under floorboards, some given to you with proud looks for approval, as you stayed up with them until the first rays of the sun danced in your eyes... it was never calm, never quiet. Yet the intruders didn't question it. They didn't even think twice to enter the house, the open birdcage. They mistook the silence and stillness for safety.

The first assasin stepped in through the picked lock of a backdoor entrance, his cautious eyes trying to catch any looming danger that may cause them trouble. Yet with nothing in sight, he waved over the rest of his three little friends right into your humble home. "Okay, you know the plan... kill as many of those little rats as you can." "And what about the Mother?" One of them asked, his hair clumsily hidden under a makeshift hood, a dirty grin on his lips in anticipation.

"Can I get rid of her? It won't be much of a struggle, I'm sure. She's just a measly housewife anyway." "Heard she's a pretty thing, though." A round of chuckles filled the kitchen before the first shrugged. "Do what you want. We just have to be done by dawn... let's split up in two groups, then. Just in case." The men agreed, one group making their way upwards, whilst the other searched the ground floors.

The darkness was inviting, the silence emitting a false sense of safety that made the intruders let their guards down, unaware of your form slinking after them. You were calm and collected, eyes dull, the dim moonlight not catching in them anymore. A mother's rage was a dangerous, unpredictable one. Filled with the need to make those who hurt her children suffer, she'd advance even through the most perilous paths for the sake of glory, revenge.

Unbeknownst to anyone, you had put two and two together a long time ago. These intruders, who belonged to a foreign enemy faction, were the cause of many of your children's deaths. They were the reason as to why you had to hear them cry out that odd wish so often. They had dared to enter your territory tonight to take away the rest of the family you had worked so hard for to have. You worked so hard to be a good mother. You bled, you cried, you slaughtered your way here. You became a "mother" one could be proud of. And on this fateful night, you'd prove your worth and pride to even Celestia above you with their screams that will reach far and wide. Your hand gripped a silver dagger, one originally gifted to you by your wife, as you blew out a lantern in one of the hallways, plunging everyone into further darkness that was far from warm.

It was ice cold.

---

"Wait outside." Arlecchino gave the Fatui agents a sharp, warning look, her clawed fingers tight around the Scythe as she entered the still, quiet building she called home. Her eyes glanced around carefully, noting immideatly that the danger that lurked in the dark was familiar. The bird on her shoulder chirped, reminding her of why she had come here in the first place. The meeting she had was cut short by it flying through the window, the call for help loud and clear. She had simply walked out then, her priority always having been you and the house, although it still made her wonder why exactly everything seemed so... unusually silent. Did Lyney and the other children deal with the threat already? If so... where were you?

Her keen ears picked up movement in the living room nearby, which made her calmly make her way over to it's entrance. With a raise of a brow, she stopped when she stepped into a puddle of blood. It seems like her suspicions were partially correct... althkugh who it was that took care of the intruders certainly came as a surprise.

"... You came." Your voice made the tension in her shoulders cease, eyes flickering to your form seated infront of the fireplace. The orange light cascaded across the dark room, the four mangled bodies laying at the bottom of your favorite lavish loveseat being a testament to your victory, and yet you remained still as a statue, back turned to her to observe the flames instead.

"You called." Arlecchino replied after taking in the situation, the sound of her heeled shoe echoing off the walls, as she approached you carefully. Her clawed hand grabbed onto your shoulder, head tilting to look at the side of your head. Your eyes were cold, not even the scorching warmth of the fire melting them. You were unreadable, hands bloody, and yet still so tightly gripping onto the dagger like your life depended on it. And despite that, you were still breathtaking to the woman.

"Are... you alright, my dove?" She asked, a genuine tone in her voice that was only ever reserved for you. The tears in your eyes burned when you finally looked up at her with a pained expression. You weren't like her. You couldn't just kill and be as proud as you hoped to be. You raised your hands towards her, bloody palms raised towards the gods the way they often were when you pleaded for help and forgiveness for the death of your children. You didn't need to say anything anymore, as she pressed a hand to your cheek with an acknowledging nod.

She wasn't good at comfort, nor did she ever try to be. A father didn't comfort his children in her eyes. No, a father simply led them to glory, and that's it. But that didn't mean that she was a bad wife, too. She sat down next to you, uncaring of the bloody mess that surrounded you, when she pulled you close to press your foreheads together. It was a way to silently show her support. She was there for you and understood you.

"I was scared... they hurt Freminet, and I couldn't fathom losing the rest-" "-I know. Thank you for your bravery, my dove. I'll take it from here." Her words were curt and short, and most would perhaps chalk it up to indifference. But when she held you close like this, gently rubbed your back and promised to take care of you only she knew how to, you found yourself being lulled back into the familiar comfort you were so used to. You knew that despite everything that happened, however, she could still not promise that this would never happen again. Your hands will always be stained crimson for as long as you were a Mother. There was no going back. There was no leaving the house.

But... you both were stuck in it together forever, weren't you?

Alrightttt... this took a while to finish, mainly due to work and me being sick again. But yeah, thank you again for the request, Anon, and I hope you liked this!!<33

[megamindsecretlair]

Runaway Lover, Part 2

Pairing: Professor!Big Stunna x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. SMUT. ANGST. PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (female receiving) teasing/mocking, size kink, dirty talk, praise kink, possession kink, all consensual. Power imbalance.

Summary: After learning that Stunna is your teacher, you must drop the class. When you're unable to, you try to break things off with Stunna. Only it doesn't go so well.

Word Count: 6,067k

Part 1 | Part 3

A/N: Everybody say thank you @melaninpov. The responses to this fic was overwhelming! I love ya'll so much! Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Taglist: @planetblaque @blackerthings @browngirldominion @we-outsiiiide @thecookiebratz @iv0rysoap @notapradagurl7 @sevikasblackgf @miyuhpapayuh @xo-goldengirl @kindofaintrovert @flydotty @judymfmoody @slippinninque @soufcakmistress @henneseyhoe @westside-rot @melaninpov @twocentuar @blackpinup22 @babybratzmaraj @theyscreamsannii @kiabialia @thedonsfactory @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @nworbaij @hopefulromantic1 @lesbiantreehugger @longpause-awkwardsmile @badassdoll @kholdkill @blackpinup22 @cardi-bre91 @blowmymbackout @jay-mach @sageispunk @yourofficialgal

You wanted to throw up. You wanted to disappear. You wanted to jump out of your skin and never look back. 

To his credit, Stunna - you refused to call him by his real name - continued on with his spiel, effectively ignoring you. The only thing you could think of was how good he felt. How good he smelled. Those sweet and filthy words he whispered in your ear while he was playing with your pussy. While he owned you. While he seemed to reach inside you and yank out your soul. He stole the damn thing back in Punta Cana and now here he was. In your city. In your school. 

Your anxiety twisted your gut into painful knots that no amount of breathing exercises could fix. You felt as if you had a scarlet letter on your chest. Could anyone tell? Would anyone know? 

You tried to cast your eyes around the room, but there were only the bored looks on everyone’s faces. There were some people checking him out. You didn’t blame them. The man was gorgeous. And the chocolate outfit was so sexy against his dark skin. You wished he was wearing his grills as well. That would ruin you.

You slumped in your seat and looked everywhere but at him. You needed to drop this class. You needed to escape. There was no way that you could spend the next four months staring at that piece of art and not fail the class. Or want to leap over everyone and jump his bones.

You knew what those hands could do. You knew what filthy images he could conjure with his mouth. His deep voice was sinful and you spent a glorious Saturday getting to listen to him speak, laugh, or tell jokes. 

You couldn’t do this. But fear kept you glued to your seat. You could not get up in front of everyone and walk out where everyone could see. And what would Stunna do? Ignore you? Chastise you? Tell you sit your ass back down?

There was only so much he could do without turning awareness to the fact that you knew each other already. The last thing you could afford was a scandal. You’d end up in a newspaper somewhere. Or worse. On the news. You pictured them finding an embarrassing photo of you from the gram and blasting it nationwide. 

The headlines would write themselves. No. You did not need that type of negativity and you were not prepared to do that to Stunna either. So you endured. You waited. You avoided looking at him but you couldn’t close your ears.

You focused on breathing. You daydreamed. You did anything you could not to focus on how those pants fit his long frame. His ass looked magnificent. The sleeves of his sweater were rolled up to reveal his forearms. 

His eyes caught you staring and he fumbled in his speech. He recovered quickly, going over his syllabus for the class. How it was important to show up because he was the type to challenge thinking. He wasn’t going to be a stuffy professor, or at least he wouldn’t try to be. 

You heard a soft sigh to your left. You turned to the sound. There was a woman next to you with pale skin and strawberry blonde hair. She looked at Stunna as if he hung the moon. 

You didn’t blame her but there was a surge of jealousy. You wanted to tell her to look somewhere else because he was fucking taken. The realization that he did not belong to you was like a bucket of ice water down your back. You turned your attention back to Stunna as he told everyone to introduce themselves.

You fought off a groan. If possible, you would sink further into your seat. You hated when professors did this type of shit. Couldn’t they get to know people some other way? In this day and age of technology, how hard was it to print pictures and names and study it like they made students study for an exam? 

Stunna parked his sexy ass on the edge of the desk in the corner of the room. He had an iPad in his hand and he seemed to be jotting notes after each student said their name and a hobby of theirs. 

When it was your turn, Stunna said your name. You took a deep breath and recited your name. You drew a blank on any and all hobbies you ever partook in. “I like to travel,” you finally said. 

Stunna smirked and nodded. “Any interesting places?” He asked.

You bit the inside of your cheek. “I just came back from the DR, actually,” you said.

Stunna nodded. “Very cool! Now, let’s see…” He looked down at his iPad and called the next person but he still had that smirk on his face. You needed to get out. You needed away. He could not make light of the fact that you knew each other. Knowing fuck well it could jeopardize not only you, but his teaching credentials.

Soulmate or not, you were not going to let him throw away his career. The rest of the class went by while you slowly died inside. Stunna introduced some of the books he wanted to read and discuss for the next few months.

As soon as he dismissed the class, you were the first one out of the door. You didn’t think he tried to call after you, but you didn’t give him the chance to. You flew out of the classroom, out of the building, and made a beeline towards the Admin building.

You ran up the steps, lungs burning as you raced across campus. You had a runaway thought that life didn’t seem quite so dull considering that Stunna was in your neck of the woods. But you squashed that. Nothing could happen as long as he was your teacher.

You went up the elevator and got off on the floor with your academic counselor. You made it to his office and knocked on the door. Mr. Sullivan pushed his glasses from his face and looked up with a smile. He was a sweet, if aloof, man who seemed to phone in his work rather than take any joy in it. 

“How is the first day of classes?” He asked. He smiled politely, but there was a look in his eye as if he was trying to place you. 

“I need to drop a class. Or get a different class?” You sat down in front of Mr. Sullivan’s desk and clutched your backpack to your chest. You didn’t want to look at your phone. You didn’t want to see missed calls or texts from Stunna.  There was nothing to discuss until you had all your cards on the table. 

Mr. Sullivan’s thick eyebrows drew down as he woke up his ancient computer. He typed around and hummed as he did so. Your leg bounced a mile a minute as he looked up something on it.

“Forgive me, what’s your name and student number?” 

You told him, repeating it over and over because you were talking too fast for him. Once he got your information, he was back to humming as he searched. “Now, which class do you need to drop?” 

You rolled your neck and told him, again, what you needed done. He nodded and went back to clicking around. There couldn’t be that many literature classes at this fucking school. 

“Oh, dear,” he said.

“What does that mean?” You asked. You chewed on your bottom lip. You fought everything in here to jump over the desk and use his computer to drop the class. 

Mr. Sullivan shook his head. “I’m afraid it’s too late to drop the class,” he said.

“What? What about the first week's grace period?” 

“Usually, yes, you would have the option to switch classes. In your case, however, every literature class at your level is currently full. Perhaps you can check back in at the end of the week and see who starts switching around. Although, you do need this class in order to qualify for your major. I would not suggest dropping it and trying to make it up next year. Six classes are difficult for any student…”

He began to drone on and on about preventing burn out, protecting mental health, whatever else his nasally voice could conjure up. You tuned him out as his words replayed over and over. You were stuck with the class. Or you’d have to try and take six next semester. You could do it, you had no doubt about it. But you shouldn’t have to.

Your last year was your last hurrah before you had to think about what you wanted to do with your major. If you wanted to do grad school or not. You could do a summer class but now was the time to think about internships. 

You sighed and sat back in your seat. Hope was cruel. Hope was spiteful and evil. You had your hopes up that Mr. Sullivan would be able to help you but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t save you. 

The melancholy this time around sat on you like a ton of bricks. You hadn’t expected to find Stunna on your trip. You hadn’t expected to fall so fast for him. You had your entire life to find someone, true, but you already found your perfect person. Written in the stars for you. Made for you. And now this.

“Now of course, there are some classes offered in the summer for a summer term. But…”

“That’s alright, Mr. Sullivan. I’ll stay in this one. Thanks,” you murmured. You left his office, let the next kid come in and bug the old man, as you left the Admin building. This shit fucking sucked. 

You finally fished your phone out of your pocket. As expected, there were missed calls and desperate texts from Stunna.

Stunna: Please, talk to me.

Stunna: Please

Stunna: I didn’t know! We never talked about it.

Stunna: At least let me know you’re alive??

Each text hurt your heart worse. You could feel his desperation, no matter how far apart you were physically. It felt as if his heart was calling towards yours. Connected on some plane you couldn’t see. The last text from him was an address. 

Stunna: Please, meet me tonight. Just to talk.

Yeah, right. If you went to his place tonight, you’d do more than talk. Your attraction to him was that strong. That powerful. You knew you needed to talk to him if you were going to stay in his class. You were both adults. You could keep your hands off of each other, right? 

Later that night, you met up with Angela and Stella back in the dorm you all shared. They could tell that something was wrong with you but you couldn’t begin to describe it. Every time you tried, the words dried in your throat. Wilting like old flowers. 

“Girl, damn. What happened between you and that guy?” Stella asked.

“Did he hurt you?” Angela asked right after. 

“It’s fine,” you said. Your leg was back to bouncing. Despite your earlier protests, you needed to talk to Stunna. Meeting at his place wasn’t the smartest move. But what was the alternative? Anywhere you met publicly, you worried that anyone would read it all over your face. You’d be just as obsessed as the girl in your class. 

“It’s not fine. If he hurt you, run me his name. I’d beat that mu’fucka up!” Stella said. She held up her tiny fists and shadowboxed in the living room. 

You giggled and shook your head. “I promise he didn’t hurt me. He was the perfect gentleman,” you said. Even while he was in your guts, he was still sweet afterwards. He knew exactly what you needed.

“Then what the hell is going on?” Angela asked.

“Right? I feel like we should have told her to look the other way,” Stella said.

“How could we? That man was so damn fine!” Angela said.

“All of them were! Like where the hell they grow them at?” 

The sisters went back and forth talking about Stunna and his friends. They were right. All of them were fine. But Stunna was different. Smooth skin, neat beard. Tall as a tree. He checked every last one of your boxes. Smart, funny, cultured, traveled, well read. 

You were in trouble. You were standing on the train tracks watching the train approach with lights on, horn blaring, and you couldn’t make yourself move. Didn’t want to move, truth be told.

The time to meet Stunna grew closer. You felt it like the swing of a pendulum. You kept checking your phone. You hadn’t answered Stunna and he hadn’t sent anything else after his address and plea for you to come over. 

Before it got too late, you told the sisters that you would go to the library to see if they had the books you needed for class. Anything to avoid having to go to the student store to purchase the books you’d only need once. They continued to talk and watch TV, content to still recover from the trip.

You went to your room, closed the door, and let the panic overtake you. You tore through your closet trying to find an outfit that screamed that this was casual. You were not trying to look pretty for the man. 

Jeans seemed too casual. A skirt seemed too suggestive. Romper seemed too out of place. You were thinking too much about it. And you were stalling. You sighed and chose a dress. It still seemed too suggestive, but dresses could be casual. It was whatever. It was no big deal. 

You got dressed and left the dorm, heading across campus and off site. There were campus-owned apartments here and you quickly walked, hoping to avoid trouble. The air was cool, almost cold, and there was a light breeze that made trees sway. 

In your haste to leave, you forgot a jacket. Stupid. Stupid just like your decision to hike to his apartment up the block. Your feet carried you there anyway and soon you were outside of his door, knocking on it.

A second later, Stunna opened the door. He changed out of his outfit for the day. He wore gray sweatpants and a black tank that highlighted his amazing physique. 

God took his time with this one. 

There was no doubt about it. You were momentarily struck dumb, openly staring at his body.

“You wanna come in?” His deep voice shook you from your filthy thoughts. 

You smiled and giggled nervously. He stepped back and you went inside. The place was like any other standard apartment. White walls, bright hardwood floors that had seen better days, with a small kitchen and bar area. 

He had boxes lined up against the wall. Some were open and some weren’t. He was still in the middle of moving in, but he had a linen couch and recliner, coffee table, and a flat screen TV with a football game playing. 

He crossed the room and put it on mute. He wiped his hands on the back of his sweats, calling attention to his glorious ass. You clasped your hands in front of you lest the traitorous things do something rash, like smack his booty. 

“I was hoping you’d come.” 

“I didn’t think I was going to,” you admitted. You felt silly standing in the middle of his living room but you didn’t want to sit down and get comfortable either. 

“I’m glad you did. Now I wish we would’ve at least discussed where we were from. When you said you were starting classes, I just didn’t think that it would be possible you’d be in my class,” he said. 

You groaned and rubbed your temples. “I tried to drop the class today,” you said.

A flash of hurt ran across his features before he turned to the TV. A moment later, his features were schooled and he nodded. “That’s probably for the best,” he said.

“I couldn’t drop it. It was too late. Everyone else was full and if I wait till next year, I’d be working overtime to pass all my classes,” you said. 

Stunna just stared at you across the gap. You played with your fingers, tapping the tips to keep you grounded. 

“I don’t like this,” he said. He gestured towards the couch. “Please, come sit. I won’t bite.” He grinned at the end of his sentence and you rolled your eyes, fighting off a grin. He was so damn corny.

You stepped closer anyway, feeling better with each step towards him. You didn’t like being that far away from him either. You sat down, smoothing your blue dress over your legs so that you wouldn’t give him the wrong impression. Maybe jeans would have been better. You definitely needed pants right now. 

You felt the heat of Stunna’s attention on your legs, but you clasped your hands over your lap and kept your legs firmly closed, no matter how awkward or painful it was because of your thick thighs. 

Stunna sat on the edge of the cushion, legs spread wide and taking up so much room that his knee almost brushed yours. His knee may as well have been a raging fire. This was insane right? To feel so intensely for a stranger? 

Stunna didn’t feel like a stranger, that was the problem. He felt like you had known him all your life and you were only remembering your time together. It was surreal and you had no frame of reference for something like this. 

“So you can’t drop the class. And I just got hired so I can’t drop it either,” he said.

“Nope,” you said, emphasizing the P. 

“We didn’t imagine our connection in Punta Cana. It felt like I was dying when you walked away,” he said.

“Don’t say that,” you said. You sighed and refused to look at him. 

“Don’t tell you the truth?” He asked.

“We can’t do anything about it! You’re…my teacher,” you said. 

“I’m not suggesting we do anything about it. I’m just…I’m saying that we can’t ignore this. I just found you,” he said. He tilted his head so that he could catch your eyes. You looked up at him and melted. 

He was so damn cute that it hurt. It physically hurt you that he looked that way, smiled that way, and all of his attention was focused on you. It was the most wonderful feeling in the world and it was cruel.

“We finally found each other and the universe really said ‘guess again’.” You tried to smile but your heart hurt too damn much. 

Stunna moved his hand and slowly grabbed yours. You let him. He slid his fingers in between yours. His hand was hot to the touch. But comforting. Solid. Real. He squeezed your hand and brought it to his lips to place a small kiss on the back of your hand. 

“It’s not forever. We can restrain ourselves for four months, can’t we?” He asked. 

You licked your lips and looked him over. How? How could you be in the same class as him or be near him and not want to touch him? Hold him? Kiss him? You had shared so much on the beach in the DR and more so in his room. 

He pried you open and stared deep into your heart without flinching. He touched your soul. Melded and meshed your worlds together. You couldn’t ignore that. You also didn’t want either one of you to get in trouble. Someone would catch on. It may not be now or in a week, but someone would eventually. 

“We can restrain ourselves for four months,” you agreed. It was only four months. Twelve weeks. That was nothing. It would fly by. 

Stunna nodded and squeezed your fingers. “So, that means we probably shouldn’t meet like this. Or be alone…ever in the next four months. Because I’m not strong enough to resist you,” he said.

“Shut up!” You laughed and shook your head. 

“I wish I could let you see inside my head. You have been on my mind all day. All last night. The things I was thinkin’ ‘bout you earlier,” he said. He bit his lip, head tilted to the side. If you squinted, you were sure that you could see the dirty fantasies playing through his mind. 

“You are insane,” you said. “That doesn’t help!” 

“You’re right, I’m sorry. That was inappropriate,” he said. 

He still held your hand in his and you stared at it. You fit like two lost puzzle pieces to a complicated puzzle. You didn’t want to let go. But you needed to. It needed to start now.

You started to slide your hand from his. He squeezed your hand, unwilling to let go. “Stunna,” you whispered.

“This shit isn’t fair,” he said softly. 

“I know. It’s not forever, right?” You asked. 

He nodded and loosened his grip. You slipped your fingers from his. You lied. This was the hardest shit you ever had to do in your life. Saying goodbye to him the second time hurt a lot worse. It was physical blow to your gut. 

In the DR, you could pretend that it was just a vacation fling. You were talking about meeting up again, but that was in the future. At some unknown date that you didn’t have to think about. You had weeks or months to get to know each other. 

Now, he was real and in your face. Now, he was close enough to reach out and grab. An ache thumped in your chest and you stood up. If you didn’t get up and leave right now, you were going to break down in his new apartment and no man needed to see that. 

You stood and stepped away from his couch, already feeling the numbness creep back in. The hopelessness that the next four months would drag on and on. You made it halfway to the door before Stunna called your name.

You turned towards him just as he was crashing his lips to yours. You hadn’t heard him cross the distance, but with his long ass legs it probably only took him two steps to reach you. He grabbed the sides of your head and tilted your head so that he could kiss you deeper. 

The strength of his kiss undid you. You melted instantly into his arms, kissing him back with as much desperation. He backed you up until your back hit the wall and he pressed you into it, rubbing his erection into your lower belly. 

You had a taste of that so you knew how good it felt. How well he maneuvered it to bring you the most utmost pleasure. You gripped onto his shoulders and held him closer to you while you kissed and explored each other’s mouths.

His warm lips were heaven against yours. Tongue playing with yours. You never wanted it to end. Just kissing him got your panties damp, arousal starting to leak out of you. Sweat gathered between your thighs and you rubbed them together, needing more friction than that.

Stunna broke the kiss, giving you some much needed oxygen. It brought a little clarity. “Stunna, we can’t–” 

Stunna kissed you again, cutting off your complaints. “We need a proper goodbye right?” 

“We had one yesterday,” you pointed out. 

“Naw, this is a real one. Please. I can’t let you walk away for four months without something to hold me over,” he said. 

“You so nasty,” you said and grinned. 

He looked into your eyes and grinned. His smile would always slay you. It was so open and joyous. Straight teeth. Perfect teeth. Perfect smile. Perfect man. 

“Hm, I seem to recall a bad little girl letting strangers play with her pussy,” he said. He smacked your lips with his, once and then twice. He kissed along your jaw and then started kissing your neck. “You can’t wear a dress like this and not expect me to lose my mind.” 

“I didn’t know what to wear!” You said. 

His hands moved from your head down your sides and then gripped your ass under your dress. He moaned, clenching and unclenching your ass cheeks with a low growl. 

“Do me a favor and don’t wear dresses for the next four months. I won’t be able to handle it,” he said. 

You made a strangled noise in the back of your throat. He wouldn’t be able to handle it? “Then you have to come to work looking like a bum, because that’s not fair,” you said. He got to look like an Adonis while you had to dress like a nun? How was that fair?

He squeezed your ass and you moaned, back bowing off of the wall. “Take these panties off for me,” he said. 

Your hands flew to your panties before your mind caught up. You hesitated briefly. Stunna stilled against you, likely giving you a chance to step away. Fuck it. You needed a proper goodbye. You needed something to hold you over as well. Something to get you through these next four months.

You got rid of your panties and he helped you take off your shoes and then your panties. He grinned, lips returning to yours. You moaned, feverish for his kisses. Stunna hissed knelt down in front of you.

He gathered up your dress and pooled it around your hips and fisted it in one hand. He spread your pussy lips with his free hand and delved into your pussy with his tongue. 

“Oh shit!” You moaned. You lifted one leg to give him better access. He growled his appreciation and moved his long tongue towards your dripping entrance. He pumped his tongue in and out of you and your eyes rolled back.

“OH fuck!” You screamed. Your hands dug into his small afro and pulled whatever you could get your hands on. His mouth felt amazing on your pussy. His nose tickled your clit and you felt it in your belly. You huffed and moaned, thighs shaking. 

He moved his tongue to your clit and flicked it back and forth with a speed you didn’t know he possessed. Your whines turned to desperate cries as you began to shake in earnest, screaming out an orgasm. 

Stunna rolled his whole head, slurping up your juices. He moaned into your pussy. He smacked your ass as you twitched above him. You looked down and caught his eyes at the same time. You almost came again. Locking eyes with him brought a level of intensity to the moment that you couldn’t describe. He made you feel like you were a giant. Or sitting on top of the world. 

When he was done with you, he slowly withdrew. There was a spit chain between his lips and your pussy. He grinned, watching it expand. He finally licked his lips and broke it. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stood up. 

“Taste even better than I remember. Should’ve seen the nut I busted in the shower this morning,” he said.

Your head dropped forward against his chest. “Fuck, don’t tell me that,” you said.

His rumbling chuckle vibrated against your cheek. You lifted your head and moved your hand beneath his sweats. He went commando underneath and you lifted an eyebrow at him. He grinned as your hand wrapped around his dick. You stroked him slowly because you didn’t have enough lubrication to get him going.

“Was gripping my meat and stroking, thinkin’ ‘bout you. About the sounds you made. The way you fit me so well,” he said. As he spoke, his tone went lower. He leaned forward and kissed you. 

He moved his hips and your hand slipped out. You looked at him with the question in your eyes. He grabbed your hips and turned you around. “As much as I would love those lips on me, I’ve been dying to get back in this pussy,” he said. 

He tugged the top of your dress until it came down and trapped your arms to your sides. He pushed you against the wall. The cold hit your nipples and you cried out. He scooted in closer and you felt him tug his sweats down. 

He lifted your left leg, slapping his meat against your pussy. The wet smacks were filthy. You moaned and he ran his dick in between your folds, getting the tip wet.

The tip of his dick pushed at your entrance and you moaned. He slid in, inch by inch, savoring the feeling of getting filled up by him. You were a huffing, panting mess by the time he bottomed out. He kissed your neck where it met your shoulder and you moaned. 

“Fuck,” he whispered.

Exactly your sentiments. You fit. You were a perfect match. He filled you up, just this side of incredibly full, and you closed your eyes to the sensation. To the feeling. He pinned you to the wall and began to move slowly, sliding in and out of you.

“Shit,” he moaned. 

“You feel so good, baby,” you moaned. 

“I feel good? You feel like home,” he said. He continued to kiss your neck, nibbling a bit, as his strokes increased. 

Your hands were on the wall, trying to anchor yourself against him. His strokes increased until he was rutting inside of you. Each thrust drew a ragged moan from your lips. He moved to a different angle and touched your sweet spot. You cried out, shaking desperately on his dick.

“There’s my fucking spot,” he said. He grinned against your skin. Your head flopped to the side. You bit your arm. He felt too good. Slipping in and out of you. The wet smacks of your combined juices were lewd and turned you on more. Made you drip more. 

“So fuckin’ wet, nasty girl. You like this dick, don’t you?”

“Uh-huh,” you moaned, nodding your head. 

“You like this dick inside you?” He asked.

“Uh-huh, so good,” you moaned. You drooled against your arm. 

“Let me hear you then,” he said. He moved his free hand down between your legs and began to stroke your clit in tandem with his thrusts. Your moans increased in volume, turning into screams as you crashed into another orgasm. 

Stunna kissed your cheek and jaw, licked the shell of your ear. “Sound so pretty when you cum. Music to my ears, baby,” he said. 

“Nut in me,” you moaned.

“What?” He asked. 

“Nut in me, please, I need it,” you moaned. 

Stunna growled and increased his thrusts. They turned into a brutal fucking, spearing you. He still played with your clit as he slammed into you, fucking you just how you liked. There was no begging. There was no negotiating. You didn’t have to stop in the middle to communicate that yes, it was okay to get rougher. It was okay to rock into your shit. 

Stunna just did it. He gave you exactly what you needed. 

“You want this nut?” He asked.

“Yessss,” you moaned. 

“Fuck, I’m so close,” he said.

“Stunna, ouuee Stunna,” you moaned in between his strokes.

“That’s right, you let me know who owns this pussy,” he said. 

“You. You own this pussy,” you moaned. He groaned before you finished your sentence. He nutted, his hot cum filling you to the brim. Some of it even slipped out and ran down your thigh. You shivered, your head turning fuzzy at the sensation. 

Stunna finally stilled his strokes and let his dick pulse. You hissed feeling it. Stunna dropped your thigh and grabbed your neck. He pulled you back into him and you turned your head so that you could kiss him. The kiss was sloppy and you both panted, breath fanning across each other’s faces. But any touch of his lips was worth it.

Stunna kissed your cheek. “I still got some more for you,” he said.

“More?” You asked.

Stunna slipped out of you and then roughly turned you around. He kissed you, pressing you back against the wall with the force of his kisses. He kissed down your body, rolling his tongue around both of your nipples. You cried out. 

He tugged you by the front of your dress towards the arm of his couch. He bent you over it and spread your ass cheeks. He moaned and smacked your ass. 

“Fuck, I need all night with you to say goodbye,” he said. 

You were too blissed out to chuckle. Or laugh. Your head was floating, flying; your mind went on a little trip and you had no plans of returning. 

He slipped back inside and you shared a moan, feeling complete once more. He immediately went back to pounding and rutting, slamming his thighs against your ass with the force of his strokes. 

“Who own this shit?” He asked.

“Youuu,” you moaned.

“Own the fuck outta this pussy. Feelin’ so good, pussy feelin’ so good. It’s mine now,” he groaned in between thrusts. The arm of the couch dug into your gut and it felt good. You felt just as you did on Saturday night. Possessed. Owned. 

“It’s yours!” You moaned. “It’s yours, Stunna!” 

“Damn right. Gonna write my initials in this pussy,” he groaned. His fingers turned bruising on your hips. 

His initials were already there. It felt like with every stroke, he was stitching your souls together. You became one soul every time his tip kissed your cervix. “Oh fuck, fuck, fuck,” you moaned on each thrust.

His fingers moved to your clit again, flicking his fingers against it. You tried to lean up. You didn’t know why, only that you needed to move. To ease up a bit. He pressed on your back and made you take his dick. Made you take the brutal pounding. 

“Guhh,” you moaned and came with a loud cry. Your pussy gripped onto him and he moaned, thrusts turning sloppy and twitching. He came right after you, giving you another round of his cum. He soaked your pussy and you shivered, full body shaking.

Stunna slammed once more into you and then stilled, dick pulsing. His cum slipped down your thighs again. You were deliciously sore. You both panted in the quiet space. You listened to any sound he made. Greedy to capture everything. If this was goodbye, you were hesitant to see what hello looked like. 

Stunna slowly slipped out of you. You cried out. 

“Shh, shh, you know I got you, baby,” he said. When he was out, you were still sore as hell. You began to shake as the cold crept in. Something so powerful took a lot of energy. You weren’t just imagining things on Saturday. It wasn’t the anonymity of the vacation. You two shared a real connection. The kind love songs and poems were written about. And it was scary as hell. 

Stunna returned with a warm washcloth. You cried out, leaning up against the couch. Stunna cooed and talked softly. “I got you. I’m right here,” he said. He finished and wiped up your thighs as well.

When finished, he disappeared with the washcloth and then came back. He helped you stand and adjusted the dress back to where it should be. Then he moved towards the couch and had you straddle him. He held you and rubbed your back as you scooted into him and laid your head on his shoulder.

You didn’t speak. There was nothing to say. You had to find the strength to walk away from this in the morning. You weren’t going to fight it. You needed this goodbye as much as he did. You needed to get your mind wrapped around the fact that you couldn’t have this for months. 

It wasn’t the end of the world but it sure as shit felt like it. You were tired of being strong. But for now, you’d have to endure. It was the only way to get the best of both worlds. 

You listened to the cadence of his breathing. Warm chest. Strong arms around your back. “It’s not forever,” he said quietly.

No, it wasn’t forever.

D'awww, if you need more, you know I got you!

The Secret Big Stunna Files | Part 1 | Part 3

[annwrites]

tell me i'm your national anthem. part four.

— pairing: homelander x fem!reader

— type: part of a series

— summary: you begin to get a better idea of just how deeply damaged john truly is & he stakes a claim to you.

— word count: 2,618

— tagging list: @emilynissangtr @highsummon

You sip on your iced coffee, typing away on your laptop, near to completing your essay for one of your classes, which is due in two days.

“God, he’s so hot. I don’t get why you don’t think so,” Emma says.

You glance up to her from over your laptop screen with a raised brow, watching as she stares down at her cellphone with a dreamy look in her eyes.

“Huh?”

She looks at you, then raises her phone, showing you a recent livestream of John. No, Homelander.

No, John. You hate his moniker.

He smiles charmingly at a reporter, who speaks into her microphone with an excited look on her face. “I’m here speaking to the one and only Homelander, who just—with the aid of his fellow supe, A-Train—saved a family of three from a near-fatal car accident.”

She holds the microphone toward him. “Can you tell us what happened here, Homelander?”

You refrain from rolling your eyes at the obnoxious name.

“Yeah, me and my buddy and fellow supe, A-Train,” he nods to the smiling man at his side who waves to the camera. “Were just doing some patrols of the area—just something we try to do every now and again across the state to keep our people safe,” he says with a shrug.

“When we saw the driver over there,” he continues, pointing to a man standing near a blue sedan. “Run a red light here at the intersection. Just—” He purses his lips, shaking his head. “Carelessness.”

He sighs, continuing on. “But, thankfully, A-Train and I were able to step in and rush the injured parties: a mom, dad, and their sweet little girl, to the nearest hospital. I mean, to wait for an ambulance…there’s no telling what might’ve happened. What precious lives might’ve been lost.”

The camera pans back to the reporter. “What would we ever do without you—either of you? We are all so lucky to have heros like the two of you—like the Seven—saving and protecting America every day.”

The camera returns to John who shakes his head, waving his hand. “No, it’s the people of this great nation who are the real heros. We’re just here to do our jobs and use the gifts God gave us to protect and save our fellow man.”

“And save them you did,” the reporter replies, continuing on before Emma locks her phone, looking at you, resting her chin atop both her fists.

“I want him so bad,” she mumbles with a smile.

You grin, shaking your head—sweating nervously.

She’s loved the man for as long as you can remember. Used to have a poster of him—ok, multiple posters—stuck to her bedrooms walls growing up. And she’s seen all of his movies probably an unhealthy amount of times.

If she had any idea that he’d had his head shoved between your thighs just a few nights ago—that you know his real name, his childhood story—the real one—that you’ve had him in your bed, crying in your arms, sitting at your dining table as the two of you eat together…that he’s called himself ‘your man’ more than once now… You’re pretty sure she’d pop a blood vessel, grill you relentlessly on everything, and then never forgive you.

You tell her everything, but this…you can’t.

Honestly, you wonder if she’d even believe you if you tried, anyway.

“What do you think he’s like in bed?”

Your head shoots up. “What?”

She grins. “Not like you want to know how many times I’ve thought about it, but…he’s like the American Dream, right? I mean, he’s definitely my American wet dream.”

You snort.

She continues. “So do you think he’s vanilla, then? Only missionary? Or…oh, I bet he loves creampies. He seems like he could be the type to have a breeding kink. Nuclear family and all.”

You lay your head down. “I don’t want to know.”

You know he’s incredibly good at oral, if nothing else. And he’s a boob man. He’d spent the entire night with his face resting between both of yours.

And he really loves to cuddle. He’d held you like a human-sized teddy bear all night. But, you suppose it makes sense: being desperate for affection. Every time you’d thought today about what he’d told you last night, your heart had broken all over again. You’d actually had to hide yourself away in a restroom today between classes just to cry.

Maybe your period is going to start soon…

God, who would’ve thought in a million years that you would feel sorry for Homelander? But you don’t see him as that now. Not when you’re alone together. Now he’s just…John.

Honestly, in a million years you would’ve never imagined letting him into your bed. Holding him. Calling him baby. Or sweetheart…

“Just guess,” she insists.

You groan in irritation, raising your head. “Maybe he’s a boob man.”

She rolls her eyes toward the ceiling, thinking for a moment before looking back to you while nodding. “Yeah, I can see that.”

You shake your head while smiling. “I have to get this paper done.”

You don’t bother keeping your balcony doors closed this evening. Not while you’re up and idly watching TV, at least.

Watch, you think, the one night you leave them open—as a reluctant invitation—will be the night he finally decides he’s grown bored of coming here and he never returns.

You’re entirely okay with that possibility.

You’d do anything to pass him off onto Emma. Then again…no, you wouldn’t. You most certainly don’t like the idea of him doing to her what he did just a couple nights ago to you on your kitchen counter.

But, she also wouldn’t have even thought about fighting back like you had. She would’ve been completely willing.

You wonder if that would’ve made him all the more angry. Maybe that’s the part that turns him on the most—resistance; a fight.

You jolt when you hear a soft thump to your left. You, begrudgingly, turn your head in that direction, met with the sight of the one and only Captain Asshole.

You feel guilty after thinking that, though. Especially after last night.

He’s just…emotionally stunted. And you’re not even sure at what specific age. Maybe there isn’t a particular one, because for his entire adolescent life…he’d been locked in that room with no one and nothing to interact with.

Tears sting your eyes.

He steps over the threshold, and you merely gaze up at him.

You’re not offering to willingly make him dinner like some trained pet. Not that you feel like it to begin with. You’ve already eaten. He can fly down to the local McDonald’s and pick up a Big Mac if he’s hungry.

Fly down.

He can fly.

What an insane thing to be able to do.

But also fantastical and amazing.

You wish you could do that.

He slips off his boots, setting them beside the door, before padding over, seating himself heavily beside you.

You flip the channel to some trivia game-show then.

“You ever seen any of my movies?” He asks.

You roll your head to the side, staring at him. “What do you think?”

He rolls his eyes, crossing his arms, looking at the TV. “So, you’ve never had a favorite supe?”

You face forward again as well. “Not really, no.”

“Never had so much as a poster of me?”

You shake your head.

He smirks. “Maybe I should gift you a Homelander pack of panties.”

You look at him with a raised brow.

“Of course they sell those,” you say with a shake of your head.

He leans over you, sliding a hand up your thigh. “I could be with you all day long that way. Right between your legs.”

You shake your head yet again, but in disapproval. Even if your lip twitches in mild amusement.

He leans back again. “I’d like a glass of milk.”

You huff quietly—the playful moment clearly over—and stand.

Once you’ve given him his requested drink, he takes a brief sip, then speaks before you seat yourself once again.

“Well, you’ve gotten to see me undressed. I think we should make things even.”

You still—the hairs raising on the back of your neck—while you simply stand and stare at him.

“C’mon,” he says, motioning with his hand, taking another drink. “Strip.”

“You’ve already seen me without…bottoms—”

“So now I get to see the other half.”

The part of you he’s most interested in, he thinks.

You cross your arms, frowning, heartrate slowly beginning to climb.

His eyes go red and you jump slightly, arms falling to your sides in surprise.

Shades of blue return to you then, and he smiles sweetly, which serves only to make your stomach turn.

“I’m waiting.”

With trembling hands and stinging eyes, you grip the hem of your shirt, slowly tugging it up and over your head. You bunch it up, then hold it shyly against your middle.

“All of it,” he states, taking a long drink, licking his lips as he looks you over.

Your chin wobbles. “I don’t want—”

He sighs, leaning forward. “It’s just us. So slip it off, then climb into my lap.”

You waver.

“I’m not going to rape you. If I wanted you on your back with your legs spread, you would be.”

Not that it’s an unappealing idea to him.

You reach behind you, undoing your bra one clasp at a time. You slip it from your shoulders, tossing it onto the coffee table, then clasp your hands over your naked breasts.

He makes a beckoning motion with his index finger, so you step forward. Hesitantly.

“Straddle my lap.”

You swallow thickly, then do so, settling bent legs on either side of him, resting back on your calves.

He glances to your hands, then into your eyes with a raised brow.

You’d been right in what you’d told Emma that morning—your assumption about him having an appreciation for breasts—apparently.

You lower your arms, resting your hands in your lap, and he abruptly wraps his own around you, leaning forward, taking a nipple into his mouth.

Your eyes widen in shock, your body growing warm all over as he begins to gently suck, his eyes fluttering closed while he moans quietly in the back of his throat.

You, meanwhile, remain still and silent, unsure what the hell to do with yourself.

He releases your breast for a moment, taking a drink of milk, then immediately dives back in.

The TV plays softly in the background, so you choose to instead focus on mentally participating in answering trivial questions instead of…this.

Until he leans back, sliding a hand up your back, gripping your neck.

Your eyes meet his.

“Touch my head.”

You slide trembling hands atop his shoulders, lacing your fingers into his blond strands, and he returns his attentions to your chest.

You gently rub your fingertips against his scalp and he hums in contentment, taking another sip of milk, then sucking on your other breast.

It’s then that the metaphorical wheels begin to turn.

Constantly switching between taking drinks of milk and sucking on your breasts… Oh good lord, he has a breast-feeding kink, doesn’t he?

He just grows more and more interesting the more time you spend with him.

And then your heart breaks all over again.

What if it’s not, entirely, a kink? You know it’s at least half one with the feeling of his erection pressing against your shorts.

He never had a mother. Never had any form of maternal comfort growing up.

Showing up and asking—rather, demanding—dinner, your attention and approval, nearly threatening you last night after a moment of extreme vulnerability… He’d held you to his chest the entire night. Like a child does with a toy for comfort when attempting to sleep.

And now…he’s pretending to breast-feed.

You decide on another small experiment—he liked it the other night when you gave him affectionate touches—and begin to quietly hum a nursery rhyme.

This feels like some fucked-up psychological experiment: you trying to read him and gauge his reactions to this and that to get an exaction on his true nature. But, in reality, he doesn’t seem terribly hard to get at.

He goes to switch breasts again and you grow silent. Until he looks up at you, and tells you, “Keep singing.”

The two of you are lying in bed again with John’s head resting between your breasts as he takes even, steady breaths.

You run your fingers slowly through his hair, lulling him to sleep.

You’re nearly on the edge of it yourself when he stirs before leaning over you, slowly sliding his hand up your chest, then along your neck until his large, heavy palm comes to rest atop the soft, delicate skin.

He stares down at you, and you cup his cheek, brushing your thumb along it.

He smiles gently, tightening his hold, and you swallow nervously, your brows furrowing.

“You’re mine,” he whispers. “You belong to me now. Do you understand?”

Your eyes flit between his and your heart begins to hammer in fear.

“You understand me,” he continues. “Like no one else has ever bothered to. We’re together now. Got it?”

He can’t really mean it. Someone like him…he must be expected to carry on with who Vought and the press choose for him.

“We…we’ve known each other for four days, John. That’s not enough time to—to know how you feel—”

“It wasn’t a question. I wasn’t asking. You’re mine.”

He presses his lips to yours and a tear slips from the corner of your eye.

He lies back down then, snuggling close to you for comfort. “If I find out you’re seeing anyone else, you won’t like what happens to him. So, I suggest staying loyal. Not that anyone else could ever compare to me, anyway. I mean, you should be happy about this—that you’re the young woman I’ve chosen for myself. It makes you special. Being mine, that is. A rich superhero. The supe.”

He closes his eyes, softly smiling. “The greatest man in all of America—the world—and I’m all yours.”

He tightens his hold around you.

“Doesn’t that make you happy?” He asks with a flat, slightly-threatening tone.

Your fingers tremble against his scalp. “What about Maeve?”

He snorts. “She might be my equal—for the most part—but you have your own appeal. There’s nothing I can give her that she can’t already get on her own. Whereas you should be grateful I’ve spared you a second glance or thought. That I’ve let you get this close to me. I’m a gift, really. Come to add interest to your ordinary life.”

A narcissist is what you are, you think.

Does he think, by stressing how special and one-of-a-kind he is, that you’ll…what? Agree? See how blind you’ve been all these years to have shirked the prospect of idolizing him, and finally fall on your knees, beginning for his attention?

You already have it.

The roles are reversed here, in truth. He’s the one desperate to have yours.

You know you shouldn’t speak further, but you want to hear his response to you laying the truth plainly before him. “If I’m so ordinary and you’re so…extraordinary, why bother with me? What is my ‘appeal’, as you put it?”

He grows quiet, listening to your heart pounding in your chest.

Finally, he curls his fingertips inward against your back. “Go to sleep.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, terrified of him. Of what’s happening to you.

Dear God, why couldn’t you have skipped just one day of class? Or come halfway through the day instead?

Now… Now you would be paying for it until he chooses to call this sick game quits.

[mooselybased]

What's this?? It's the Dad Squad from The Adventure Zone: Dadlands, all together in a single platform fighter moveset! Enter Briquette Hoggins, Chip Hugginsbee, Guy Ferrari, and Coach Red Ruffinsore!

I wanted to include a law/chaos meter mechanic in this, so here's how this one works. You play as one dad at a time, and each of the four special moves will swap you to the corresponding dad. Landing hits as a chaos dad (Briquette or Chip) will raise your chaos but drop your law. Landing hits as a law dad (Guy or Red) will raise your law but drop your chaos. Most standard attacks are themed after one type of dad (grill, vacation, car, or sports), and landing hits themed to your current dad will give extra meter. You can spend meter by holding down the special buttons for powered up versions of those attacks. Spend chaos for stronger neutral or up specials, and spend law for stronger side or down specials.

Now for the moveset itself. The down special swaps you to Coach Red Ruffinsore, who let's out a piercing toot on his whistle for high damage but practically no range. Spend law meter to chain together several whistles with no cooldown.

The side special swaps you to Guy Ferrari, who will drive forward a good distance in his Hyundai Elantra. Spend law meter to instead drive Yvette the Corvette, which explodes for massive damage at the end of the move.

The neutral specials swaps you to Chip Hugginsbee, who will toss a snack from his backpack in a lofty arc. Spend chaos meter to instead whip out just a gun, for a faster and more powerful projectile that shoots straight forward.

The up special swaps you to Briquette Hoggins, who fires a cut of meat from his chest cavity straight down, giving him a small bit of air in the process. Spend chaos meter to instead summon Chokey the barbecue spirit, which propels Briquette faster, further, and in any direction.

The Dad Squad's finale has them reach into a Continuity Obliterating Recurrent Neutrino (or, C.O.R.N.) Hole, extruding them through time and space. Briefly, all four dads, and fractal copies of them, will spread horizontally across the stage, moving and attacking in unison.

To those who made it this far, thanks! This was my 29th moveset concept in this series, and I'm planning on taking a break from this once I post the 30th one. Lemme know if you have any guesses as to who it might be, and I'll see y'all then!

[shepherds-of-haven]

What are the ROs' comfort foods?

Blade: there's a specific meal in Ygrath literally called "soldier's meal" that they would prepare both for the trainees in boot camp (or the Ket equivalent) and that mothers would traditionally prepare for their children when they returned home from war: it basically consists of grilled fish over rice, accompanied by sauteed dark mushrooms, a mountain herbal tea, salted cucumber and radish, and clear "earth-broth" with onions, mushrooms, grains of barley, and a miso-like paste. That's his comfort meal!

Trouble: his answer would be a nice steak, crispy potatoes cooked in duck fat, a beer, and a heaping bowl of honey pudding to follow, but I actually think his real comfort food is a sandwich. sometimes when he's upset, you can observe him going straight to the kitchen and eating his feelings with a massive sandwich. doesn't really matter what's in it, so long as it's on nice slabs of bread and has a bit of nice cheese, lettuce, and tomato!

Tallys: peya, the Elvish stuffed hand bread with nuts and cheese and wrapped in a leaf and drizzled with honey, is definitely one of her biggest comfort foods, but cheese in general is secretly a key ingredient for her too! She just likes nibbling on a little bit of cheese when she's anxious about something. Make her a cheese plate with some fruit and honey (though that part's optional) and she'll be happy!

Shery: definitely baked sweets! Everything she bakes for other people is her comfort food, lol. Sugar and flour and very soft, fluffy textures all the way baby! She tends to like strawberries and cream or angel food cake or fruit tart type sweets rather than really decadent chocolate or extravagant fudgey things, but she'll make whatever! Baking it is as much her comfort as eating it!

Riel: his are definitely sweets, too! Having a tray of little sweets (petit fours, little cookies, little bites of cheesecake) paired with extremely bitter khav or tea are divine ambrosia for him. It's extremely unhealthy but when he's at his peak workaholic stress, you'll often see him working at his desk with only a platter of sweets to graze on, it's so bad...

Chase: he doesn't really derive comfort from food... he has other vices... but if I had to guess, any kind of soup or chowder would inherently be comforting to him, especially since he had a lot of that growing up! He's particularly partial to a pumpkin-eel soup and corn and seafood chowder!

Red: I think he finds bread, particularly soft, slightly sweet bread, inherently comforting, and it's his go-to late-night snack when he's accidentally skipped dinner and doesn't want to fuss with a whole meal but has to eat something. Think of him walking around with half of a brioche roll in his mouth or something! Sticky buns and sweet milk bread was what was usually served for breakfast at the Circle, so it subconsciously brings him back to the days of being a student, having a routine, having the whole day to look forward to, etc.!

Ayla: most meals where there's too much to finish in one sitting are inherently comforting to her... she gets stressed about scarcity of food, so a big cauldron of vegetable soup (until that gets ruined, thanks Halek) or a big heaping pile of really anything where she can just mindlessly eat and process her feelings is comforting to her! This isn't quite a thing in Blest, but one of those huge grazing tables would be a delight for her!

Briony: with her amnesia, I don't think she's discovered yet what is a "comfort food" for her versus just foods she really really likes; she's more in a phase of life where she's trying as many new foods as possible rather than discerning which ones inspire particular emotions in her! I think she hasn't developed enough memories around food (which is sometimes what comfort food entails, that association to a particular experience or emotion) to gravitate towards a particular comfort food yet... but if I had to guess, I think she's drawn towards fried foods or little dumplings and tartlets, like a crab and cheese tartlet that's basically a crab rangoon or something like that! In a modern AU I could also see her being a big ice cream/milkshake/boba consumer!

Lavinet: she's not a big eater, so drinks are more comforting to her than food. When she's had a stressful day, she instinctively unwinds with a nice glass of wine, a cup of hot chocolate, a mug of warm tea, or what have you, rather than seeks out any particular meal or dish! She doesn't really have emotions around specific food like that!

Halek: he finds most foods he grew up with the opposite of comforting, as he thinks most Hunter food is bland and monotonous! (Not everything thinks that, he was just sick to death of growing up in the Reach and having the same-old same-old all the time.) His comfort food is some kind of cheesy pasta: it's simplistic in terms of his cooking aspirations, but there's just something about it that he finds inherently comforting! A nice gnocchi-style dish with a bunch of cheese sauce, toasted breadcrumbs, and broiled under an oven is his favorite!

Mimir: uncertainty

Caine: our boy loves cookies and fruit pies with a tall glass of milk!!