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wardensantoineandevka · 2 days ago

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There's been a lot of talk about feeling like Campaign 3 fails to carry through consequences, and that is often met with criticisms framing this talk as just wanting Bells Hells or other characters to die or be punished. In return, the response to that is that "consequences" is not necessarily negative — it simply means a narrative follow through and events positive, neutral, or yes even negative happening as a consequence of what came prior.

I posted prior about what I and many meant by consequences, but generally, "a lack of consequence" means that it feels like events happen without clear connective tissue to previous events or it feels like things happen and don't feel like they're feeding properly into what comes next, that following events aren't properly carrying that weight of consequence.

But, just to further illustrate the discussion, the following is a non-exhaustive list of things I personally wish had consequences (that I could be probably better articulating):

Prism, Deanna, and FRIDA going off to do research at the Cobalt Soul, explicitly intending to try to help Bells Hells. This yielded nothing. Even a written letter to the Hells giving any information would have been great to have as a nod to that decision being made and the effort put into cultivating those friendships. (Given the reveal in the Fireside Chat that a Luxon beacon could've destroyed Predathos should research have been done, this feels even more of a missed follow through.)

The Unseelie Court not reinforcing the Malleus Key having clearer consequences. Obviously, there was a benefit to this, but it's hard to FEEL the consequences of disrupting that message because it is not clear what exactly the Unseelie Court would have provided.

Liliana chose not to broadcast the Downfall memory and what that meant to the sociopolitical scale. There is a clear consequence for her on a personal level, but this information being potentially broadcast was set up as a big looming threat, but it was difficult to really feel what would have happened, like, meaningfully, in terms of the material narrative as it affects Bells Hells, if it was broadcast, so as a result it's difficult to feel that stopping the broadcast was meaningful on a broader level.

Talking about Liliana, it feels strange that she exists within Vasselheim as a top leader of the Ruby Vanguard for, like, days without any comment. There is more (and properly delivered) tension over Opal's presence in the city. I don't think Liliana necessarily should've been arrested, I felt something like a small beat that may have required Imogen vouching for her was missing. The consequences of Liliana's position among the antagonists felt absent.

Ashton getting Shady Sally to agree to get the Nobodies back together to help save Exandria, then they'd all be free of Ashton for good. Nothing comes of this! An appearance at the forward camp in the Hellcatch when they came back from Ruidus or in Vasselheim, after the camp is evacuated there, with another opportunity to settle it with the others in the group would have been a nice consequence.

The Grim Verity, especially outside of Ryn, continued to meaningfully exist and the theft of the texts from Vasselheim mattered past the Predathos, Vordo, and Ethedok reveal exposition. It was a team of three people who stole the texts, and one of them, Arnold, was captured and presumed still held at the Platinum Sanctuary and another, Janina, was keeping tabs on the excavation site in the Hellcatch to keep everyone updated on what the Vanguard was doing. It would have been nice to see the Grim Verity more involved in this campaign, because they're the initial hook into the campaign itself! Learning about them and making contact with them stopped yielding any sort of narrative results. (The thing about research in the first point applies here too.)

Judicators. They are introduced, and then nothing is done with them at all. They factor in so minutely, and we understand so little about them, that it's hard to even talk about them as thematic pieces without engaging in a lot of speculative thinking.

I am known to be frustrated with Ashton philosophically, but I am baffled that the conversation they had in their vision in the earth titan in 110 did not come up again at all in any of their subsequent argumentations about the world changing. I am certain that it would've driven me nuts, but I have liked to see that carried forward. It would've contributed a lot to feeling like perspectives were being built upon as a consequence of interactions.

Generally, the Titans are barely mentioned after that episode, btw. There was a lot of time spent on pursuing the idea of the Titans, even sometimes outright brushing past NPCs who repeatedly said that the Titans were dead, only for it to get dropped so suddenly. It feels especially strange when one of the major points of contention Ashton and Laudna brought up was the war against the Titans. Not even a final note about what this means in the tapestry of history or an acknowledgement that they indeed cannot be restored as they were or what? We spent a lot of time on this discussion, but fail to carry it through into the final thematic and philosophical decisions.

On that note, it's established that there is a destiny in which Ashton is to bestow the spark onto another, and there is a sense of fate then for Fearne in it. Since they both struggle with being locked into a path, I did feel missing an exploration of what it then MEANT for them to pursue this. As soon as these abilities are unlocked, there isn't a meaningfully thorough exploration of what they mean as narrative devices and their implications for Fearne and Ashton, at a personally transformative level.

The anti-resurrection toxin and its antidote. I know that it is used against Keyleth and there is a payoff in that the Hells successfully help her, but I don't understand why this toxin didn't continue to be used, especially given the campaign was supposed to be deadlier. Why wouldn't the Ruby Vanguard, but especially someone as vicious and ruthless as Otohan, continue to use it? It had such a prominent presence in the campaign and then vanished from it. We don't even have a sense of how it locked away divine magic and what connection it has to Ruidians or Predathos, which have similar divine dampening ability. Having it continue to be used in the campaign would've also made it continually rewarding that Bells Hells did that work to help Keyleth because the Air Ashari would have available antidote.

Stopping there not because I ran out of examples, but because this list is getting incredibly long — thought I reserve the right to add more later should I think of really good ones. But this is just some of the plot points and threads and conversations that I wish I felt led somewhere or had consequences, and you can see that not all of them are about punishing characters at all, just a desire for things to feel like they were going somewhere and were properly tied off.

#Critical Role #CR discourse #Critical Role things

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cameronsbabydoll · 2 days ago

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VALENTINE’S DAY WITH STEP-BRO RAFE CAMERON

WARNINGS — stepcest, nipple sucking, fingering, rafe sorta takes advantage of readers emotional statebut she does consent, p in v without any protection. MDNI 18+

Rafe paced up and down the aisle of the store, his piercing blue eyes darting from one cheesy heart-shaped chocolate box to another.

He knew his stepsister had just gotten dumped by her shitty ex-boyfriend. The vision of his stepsister moping around Tannyhill with tear-filled eyes, clutching onto some stuffed animal their ex got them, made him grit his teeth and a little turned on.

They love cute little girly things, right? I should probably get her something pink or whatever, Rafe thought as he searched through the Valentine’s Day gifts.

Rafe walked down the aisle and to the checkout with a cart filled with abnormally large stuffed animals, loads of sour candy and chocolate, and some random face masks that looked cute.

As Rafe approached the front door, he took a sharp, deep breath before opening it and walking into a weirdly quiet house. Rafe stood in the entrance before he finally heard soft sniffles coming from the couch; he dropped the bag of candy and chocolate on the coffee table before meeting her teary eyes and flushed pink cheeks. God, they look so cute when they’re sad and shit, Rafe thought with a light chuckle before changing his expression back to the concerned older brother look.

“Hey, uhh… uhm, what are you doing?” Rafe stopped his question, realizing the stupidity of it. “Right, uhm, I got you something; it's sort of stupid, but...” Rafe handed the bag of sour candies, chocolate, and last but certainly not least, the large teddy bear.

Rafe felt his eyes widen as he noticed the way his little stepsister was looking at him; maybe he was in his head, but he couldn’t help himself.

Rafe found himself moving closer, looking directly in her eyes. “Fuck, I’m not leaving, alright? Not going to leave you to be all sad today.”

Something felt out of control, and it felt so wrong, but that didn’t stop Rafe from reaching his hand to cup her face, his thumb brushing against her lower lip, and then with a low groan, he pressed a long, rough kiss on their lips. He kissed her like a starved man, almost as if he was trying to consume them and make them part of himself.

Rafe’s heart raced as he felt her melt into his kiss, their soft curves fitting quite perfectly against the hard planes of his body. He nipped their bottom lip, tugging on it gently, “You don’t know what you’re doing, do you? Tempting me constantly like this?” He groaned as he punctured each of his words with deep, hungry kisses, swallowing their gasps of pleasure, relishing the way it felt against him.

He squeezed the soft flesh of her body, reaching down to feel the damp heat at their core. “Fuck, you’re already so wet for me?” Rafe purred in their ear.

“C-Can’t help it… I swear.” You whimpered in Rafe’s face. Rafe chuckled at your desperation, “I know… you just can’t help yourself? Can’t help the fact that you want your big brother to fuck you?”

Rafe rocked himself forward, making you feel his entire length. “I’m going to ruin you, ruin you for anyone else, and all you're going to want is your big brother's cock.“

“I-I want.. want you badly.. please” You plea desperately running your hands on his chest.

Rafe groaned hearing your words, his finger rubbing your clothed clit and his other hand reaching to pull the flimsy tank top you have on. Rafe felt the way your nipples hardened at the cool air; he leaned down, capturing one of the rosy buds in his mouth. “Fuck, your tits are perfect, angel.”

Rafe felt the heat radiating off of you, the sense of desperation and pleasure. “Tell me how badly you want your big brother’s fingers inside your tight little cunt.”

“B-Badly… I want it so badly, please. You tell him in a slight, hushed whisper, slightly grinding his thigh.

Rafe felt his heart race as he pumped two fingers into their slick cunt. “That’s it, baby,” Rafe dragged out slowly with a wicked grin on his face, “Taking your big brother’s finger like a good little sister.”

As Rafe felt the way his little stepsister was clenching his fingers, the way she was shaking, he wrapped his slender hand around her throat; he didn’t give it a tight squeeze, just enough to give her a silent threat, “I want to feel you cum; you can do it, baby.”

Rafe felt her walls squeezing his fingers, slowly curling them; he saw the way her face turned with pleasure, letting out a soft whimper. He brought his now-soaked fingers into his mouth, savoring the sweet taste. “You taste so sweet; I can’t wait to lick and fuck your sweet cunt until your mind is only filled with thoughts of your big brother.” He sealed his words with a long lick up the center of her pussy.

Rafe gripped her hips tightly, pulling their flesh closer to them, pressing his hard cock against their pulsing cunt. “P-Please, Rafe, I—I need it,” you whimpered, your voice breaking at each word.

Rafe felt a huge surge of masculinity and an ego boost at the way he reduced you to this state. Rafe rolled his hips forward, the thick head of his cock caught onto her entrance; without a warning, Rafe thrust into you, burying himself into your heat.

“God, you're squeezing me so tight; it seems like my cock is the only thing you're made for, like you were born to take this.” Rafe groaned darkly, hooking your legs over his shoulder. He reached down as his fingers found her clit, rubbing furiously in circles; his heart raced feeling her body stiffen beneath him; he slammed a final thrust, burying himself to the hilt of his orgasm; he could feel the warmth of their spend leaking out around his now semi-hard cock.

“You took me so well,” Rafe whispered as he rolled to his side, pulling her against him so they were spooned together. He nuzzled in to the back of their neck, breathing in their scent.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Rafey.” You mumbled softly, your eyelashes fluttering against his chest. Rafe couldn’t help but let out a satisfied smirk, “Happy Valentine’s Day to you, my little stepsister.”

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 day ago

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One and Only

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, stalking, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You meet your biggest fan.

Based on response: She’s famous & he’s a stalker fan? 1940s au?

Characters: Bucky Barnes

This is #1 of the Valentines Roulette stories

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“I’m sending the script this afternoon, honey,” Gerald promises through the speaker. You hold the receive to your ear and suppress a sigh. It’s a blessing that he can’t see your expression. ‘Honey.’

“Sure thing, Ger,” you reply as you try to peer through the foggy glass pane. What a miserable February.

“Screen tests start Monday,” he intones, as if you’ve not done this before. What number is this? You signed a contract for ten pictures, this is number seven of the lot. You cannot wait to shop around for a new studio.

“Yes, Ger,” you answer dully. “See ya then.”

“Three o’clock. There about,” he girds.

“I’ll be around. Monday, then, Ger.”

“Monday, honey.”

You hang up. You arch your brow as your lips move with the retort you’re under terms and conditions not to say. ‘If you want honey, Gerald, go find a hive.’ You sigh to your content and adjust your rob beneath the satin belt cinched around your waist.

There’s a knock at the door. You look at the clock in its ivory frame. It must be the mailman. You answer and accept his bundle. Some from those who watch your pictures and a letter from your sister. You shuffle through them and leave them scattered over the kitchen table.

You pace. You’d hoped to have that script early. You might not be very happy with the films they’ve put you on but learning lines at least keeps your mind busy.

As you sweep through the entryway, your satin robe catches the air and sends a breeze around the space. There’s a scuff along the hardwood that snags on the tassled corner of the rug. You must’ve dropped it when you took the handful from the mailman.

You bend to pluck up the scrap of paper, folded in a tight square. When you untuck the corner, it forms a sort of accordion. You carefully unfold it, careful not to tear it. You reveal its sparse contents.

The crosshatch of an inky nib has formed an image. One you vaguely recognise as yourself. The war feels like ages ago though it only just ended. It’s back to business as usual. No more tours through Europe, no more riding in cargo bays with the prettied up dances. Everything is all so dull these days.

In the hastily scratched portrait, your hair is painfully twisted into victory rolls and the military cap pinned at just the right angle. You remember the soldiers, the worn gray palour and dark circles, the tatters in their uniforms as the complained for drawing lines up their legs to mimic the nylon these men needed to jump out of planes.

You examine the torn edge and a few blots of ink and some other dark hue. There’s a scrawl in the corner. Loopy writing; ‘Happy Valentines. Only you on my mind. JBB’. Those messages are not unexpected. You are thankful for your admirers if not at time, perturbed by their assumptions of familiarity. Yet, you’ve chose the studio lights and camera lenses. It comes with the territory.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It’s three o’clock. Bucky’s watch is set, tightly strapped to his right wrist. Out of habit, he looks to the left and finds nothing. His shoulder is itchy where his muscles should tug but there’s nothing there. Just a pinned sleeve and frustration.

He clears his throat and keeps the thick bound folder under his arm. The boy gave him no trouble, asked no questions. I’m the porter, kid, I’ll see it to her. No need to go bothering the lady.

He marches down the winding stone walk. His car is near the sprawl of pine. He misses his motorcycle but he can’t figure how to steer it with one hand. Even the steering wheel gives him a bit of trouble.

He presses his arm tighter to the script as he approaches the stoop. There’s a round stone platform before the door that forms steps up to the entrance. Moulds of ancient Greek statues stand in small alcoves beneath the lights on either side of the door frame.

He stops before the door and bends his head as he tries to fix his hair. He shaved for this. It’s been a while. He spent long with the scissors, clipping through the shanks than he did with the razor. That’s another thing that’s harder. He struggled to get just the right angle around the left side of his jaw. There’s a nick there.

He straightens up and stares at the arched door. He needs to knock. He has to step close and batters his knuckles on the wood. He backs up and looks down. He hasn’t worn a suit since he came home. They made him do it as they shouted ‘victory’ in the streets.

He waits. No answer. He looks around. She has a bell. He shifts around then uses his nose to press it. Damn arm.

He fixes his posture and smiles, then quickly wipes it away. You don’t want to look strange. No, not like some of the men they took off the lines. They got that glassy look. Some of them couldn’t do anything but laugh or cry.

Her shadow darkens under the door before she opens it. She’s surprised by him. She bats her long lashes. They are naked, like the rest of her face. He’s just as stunned to see her in her natural form. No cosmetics, all her. She’s even more gorgeous.

“Oh, I was expecting Stuart,” she greets him. “Pardon,” she tries to fix her hair. She wears a satin robe and slippers with feathers. “You have it?”

She gestures to the script. He looks down at it and slides it down to his hands. He examines the cover.

“Uh, yes, ma’am, miss,” he forgets everything he meant to say. All those lines he rehearsed in the dark theatre. The script he wrote when he lay restless in his bed.

“Thank you, sir,” she reaches for it. He hesitates to hand it over.

“I saw you. In the Hague,” he says as she latches onto the spine. He doesn’t let go.

She looks at him. She has a serene look on her face, even as her eyes wander down to his pinned sleeve. She almost seems to brighten.

“With the company?” She asks. “You saw me on stage?”

“You’re real funny, miss,” he bounces on his heels. “Charming.”

“Well, it’s the least I could do for your men. You gave so much,” she keeps a hold of the script.

He looks at his left shoulder then at her.

“Some things were taken,” he grumbles.

She blanches, “pardon me, sir, I didn’t mean--”

“I just wanted to say,” he overrides her apology. She doesn’t need to be sorry. “When I was in the medic’s tent, all those weeks, it was you. You got me through. I saw ya in the magazines. They were old, you know? Don’t get them hot off the press in the field.”

“Sure,” she utters, he feels the tension in the folder as she tries to wiggle it away. “What’s your name, sir?”

“James,” he answers. “James Buchanan Barnes.”

She smiles, “that’s a lovely name. I do appreciate you coming to give me this. And for everything else.”

He lets go of the folder. He expected more. She might invite him in for a drink. He did lose a fucking arm so the ladies could keep their precious slippers and robes. And he came all the way down her to give her that lump of papers.

“You have a good day, sir,” she slowly inches the door forward.

Where are her goddamn manners?

He slaps his hand against the door and she squeaks in fright. He keeps her from closing it in his face. He cleaned himself up nice for her, he sent her a letter. He’s sent her at least a hundred. He signed them all JBB. She knows him.

So why is she trying to shut him out?

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You stumble back as the man shoves the door out of your grasp. You gasp and the grip the script with both hands, like a shield. He steps inside calmly.

“James,” you say his name, “what are you doing?”

“The least you can do is ask me in, doll,” he snarls. The sudden shift in his demeanour fills you with dread.

“No, James, I did not. You need to leave--”

He swings the door shut and marches toward you. You raise the script and bring it forward, aiming it at him in a desperate attempt to fend him off. He knocks it away easily. He's strong. Still a soldier even in street clothes.

“James,” you hold your palms up helplessly, “please, forgive me if I’ve--”

“Shhhh,” he reaches between your hands and grabs you by the jaw. “I just... I want to... did you get my letters?”

“Letters?” You gulp, writhing in his hold as you gently touch his forearm. “Well, James, I get many letters--”

“I write to you every day,” he hisses. “It’s me. JBB.”

“James,” you murmur.

“Stop saying my name,” he sneers.

You shut your mouth, your lip poking out as it trembles. You stare at him, petting his sleeve, hoping you can calm him. The war changed a lot of men. It stole a lot of them too.

“I just... I love you, doll. You got me through. You kept me breathing,” he growls as he walks her backward. “I’m not gonna hurt ya.”

You whimper, “why don’t you let me go and I’ll pour you a drink?”

He stops and his brows pinch together. He looks to his left, where your liquor cabinet stands in the dining room. Where your phone is...

“No,” his eyes flick back to you. “No, I don’t drink.”

He pushes you until your heels meet the bottom stair. Your right slipper falls off and he tips you over the incline. You fall beneath him as he follows you down. You push on his chest and wriggle.

He straddles you beneath him as he looks you up and down. His knees are on the step by your hips, his heels two down. You brace the sharp edge and whine.

“James...”

He hushes you as his thumb rubs beneath your cheekbone. He stares at your body, his chest rising and falling heavily. You push yourself down into the stairs.

“Open your robe,” he demands.

Your lip quivers violently as you bat back tears. You do as he says. You unknot the belt and slowly draw it open. You tug the satin apart and reveal your silky nightgown. The fabric cling to you like water.

He shudders as his jaw squares. He bites his lip and shifts over you. He leans in slowly and your eyes meet as he gets closer. They are blue and deep like the ocean. You shiver as his nose touches yours.

He exhales and brushes his lips against yours.

“Show me the bedroom,” he growls.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

He lets her up cautiously. She steadies her feet and turns up the staircase. She limps up, click, clap, click, clap. He bends to pick up her slipper and follows.

As she reaches the top, he stops her with her name. She pauses. He gets down and she doesn’t react until he shows her slipper. She puts her foot through. He stands and points her onward.

He couldn’t climb to see through the bedroom window. He only ever saw the first floor. She hugs herself as her robe flutters around her figure. She opens the door at the end of the hall. She steps back to let him through and he tuts.

He makes her go in first. She enters and sweeps around, far from him. He elbows the door shut. She cowers by the wall as he strides around.

There’s a phone beside the bed. He grabs it and yanks it free of the cord. Her slippers suddenly click in a flurry. He drops the phone and catches her at the door. He crushes her against it so it snaps back into the frame.

“Doll, don’t be doin’ all that,” he warns as he pinches her neck and urges her away from the door. She whimpers and he turns her to face the bed, “robe off.”

He lets her go. She pulls away and drags his hands down her neck. She shyly pushes the robe from her shoulders and peels it off her body. The silk nightgown swathes her perfectly. Her shape is so full and soft.

She drapes the robe over the bedpost and shies away. He clucks and snaps his fingers.

“Doll,” he looks down at himself. He has the whole getup. Jacket, vest, tie, shirt. All for her. “Need your help.”

She faces him. Her eyes glimmer like gems. She watches his hand smooth down his jacket and he unbuttons it.

She nears him. She smells like vanilla. She brings her hands up. They shake. She must be excited. How could she not be? Finally, they’re together.

He grabs his lapels and guides the jacket back. She’s tender with the folded sleeve and tickles his hemmed shirt beneath. She carries the jacket to the seat by her vanity and returns to him. He can see her pulse in her throat, it’s going just as fast as his.

She unbuttons his vest and slips it off him. Her touch is soothing. Then she undoes his tie, her fingers brushing his throat. She unveils him, piece by piece, as his stomach clenches and unclenches.

She stalls as she gets to his trousers. Her fingers twiddle just before the button.

“It’s your first time,” he drawls. “Dont’ gotta be shy, doll.”

She looks at him and swallows. She nods stiffly then puts her eyes down. The unplucks the front of his pants. He can make it nice for her.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

First time...

Nope. You won’t say you haven’t made mistakes. Still, you won’t chance angering this man. Not more than you already have. You can keep up the act if it pays off. Not in money this time, no, your life.

You stand back as he’s naked before you. Your wipe your damp palms on your nightie. He hangs his head. You can’t help but stare at his scars. The tortured flesh around his shoulder that extends onto his chest. Looks like a burn.

His eyes startle you. You meet them. He steps closer.

“Your turn,” he growls.

You look down and reach for the thin lace straps of the night gown. You slide them down and shimmy the silken sheath down your figure. Your chest peeks over and he inhales audibly. As you push the fabric past your hips, he groans.

Your eyes wander up for an instant. He's hard, bobbing shamelessly as he nears. All at once, he herding you back against the bed. You fall over the foot and bounce on the mattress.

He crushes you. He kisses your lips then your cheek, smearing saliva across your face with his frantic hunger. You close your eyes and go rigid as you let him do what he pleases.

His voice escapes him like silt. He nuzzles and nips along your throat. He shifts onto his side and feels up and down your torso. He fondles your tits and his mouth trails his touch. He seals his lips around your nipple, swirling his tongue around and around.

He hooks his leg around yours. He pulls your thighs apart and his hand traces down your stomach and pelvis. He slips his middle finger between your lips and strums at your clit. You tense and twitch as your nerves stir.

Your breath hitches as he rubs firmly. You turn your head and bite your knuckle as a moan escapes you. You arch your back as the sparks turn to a flame. You shake through your orgasm as he drags you through it.

He pushes another finger between your folds. He rubs up and down, smearing your juices around as he hum. He lifts his head and nuzzles your cheek.

“Kiss me, doll.”

You pull your hand away and press your lips to his. His tongue delves into your mouth as his fingers slide into your cunt. He growls and smothers you as he rocks your pelvis. The heel of his hand rests against your clit and your toes curl as you writhe. You bend your legs as he lights another fire in you.

He tilts his hips, rubbing his cock on your leg as he humps you in time with his fingers. Your walls squeeze and tremour and your climax again. You whine into his mouth and he drinks it in.

He drags his fingers free and wipes your pleasure on your thighs. He parts from your mouth and heaves himself onto his knees. He kneels between your legs and traces the curves of your body with his hand.

“Doll, please, you put me in,” he orders. “Be careful, don’t wanna hurt you.”

You reach down without hesitation. You want this over with. You just hope he leaves after.

You grab his cock and angle it down against your cunt. You flinch as his tip brushes your clit and you push him further back. You line him up with your entrance and he shakes. He grunts as he tenses and inches into you.

He grits his teeth and exhales through his nose as he impales you. You constrict around him. He’s big enough to make your walls ache. He leans over you, planting his hand next to your head, and thrusts until he’s buried to his limit.

You slap your palm against his chest and puff out through your locked jaw. You quake around him as he pulls back. His eyes fall to the crux of your bodies as he watches himself push into you again. You dig your nails into his skin.

He snarls and bends his arm, holding himself on his elbow. He covers your mouth with his once more and rolls his hips. You whine and nearly gag around his tongue. He pumps again and again. You press against his sides as you squeeze him between your thighs.

The bed shakes as his rhythm picks up. You push on his stomach and thigh, begging him silently to be nicer. He doesn’t heed your pleas. You give in to the ravaging of your body as he ruts wildly. You hook your hand around his bicep and clamp down to keep from biting his tongue.

Just a bit more and it will end. Almost there. Almost free... right?

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #valentines roulette #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #1940s!Bucky #marvel #mcu #avengers #captain america #winter soldier #one shot

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munsonsmixtapes · 2 days ago

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That's My Boy

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

You, Eddie, and your daughter come over to the trailer to celebrate Wayne's birthday and give him the best gift he could ever ask for.

The trailer is quiet except for the jazz music that’s playing softly for some background noise and the simmering of the pot that Wayne is stirring. His guests are due any minute ands he’s hurrying to make sure everything is done before they show up. He pours the finished soup into the serving bowl that was part of the set that Eddie got him when he moves out then plates the grilled cheeses as nicely as he can, wanting them to look the best they can.

He sets everything on the table as he hears a car door slam closed, a bright grin spreading across his face as he sees a glimpse of the top of the familiar head through the storm door. He’s quick to wipe his hands on his apron just as the door flies open, a blur racing towards him in a fit of giggles.

“Gramps!” Lucy exclaims as he throws herself against his legs. Wayne’s quick to pick her up and give her a tight squeeze, feeling his heart swell as she gives him the energy back. He’s so engrossed in the moment that he only remembers that she’s not alone when he hears the front door close.

His eyes open and he sees his nephew and wife entering the house carrying git bags that Wayne made them swore that they wouldn’t. They’re wearing matching smiles as their eyes lock on the man and they make a beeline for him, pulling him into a group hug and Wayne’s never felt more loved than he does in the moment.

“Happy birthday, old man,” you give his shoulder a squeeze and a kiss on the cheek. “Next time, you’re not making the meal. It’s not fair of us to expect you to cook on your special day.” You set down the gift bag you’re holding on the counter that’s beside you.

“I hardly call that cooking,” Wayne chuckles. “It was just heating up a couple cans of soup and making a few grilled cheeses.”

“Still,” you reply as you shake your head. “Next time, we’re hosting.”

“Yeah,” Eddie speaks up, wrapping his arm around his uncle’s shoulder. “We just upgraded the grill that’s out on the patio and I have to say, I make a mean burger but I did learn from the best,” he winks then hurries over to help you pull out your chair as soon as he sees that you’re trying to do it yourself. He then helps you sit as you smooth your shirt over your very obvious bump.

Wayne doesn’t think his heart could get any bigger and he has to fight tears from trailing down his cheeks as he watches the two of you, your wedding rings catching the light that’s hanging above the table. He then lets his eyes move over to his great niece who’s holding out an envelope to him that has his name scrawled in bright red crayon.

“Can I open it after lunch?” He asks, but Lucy shakes her head vigorously.

“No, you have to open it now,” she demands and because she’s got the man wrapped around her tiny finger, he scoops her in his arms and the sit at the table as he opens the envelope, letting out a dramatic gasp as he looks at the little picture she’s drawn for him.

It’s the four of them and even though they look like little yellow blobs, it’s still very easy to make out who’s who. This is immediately going on the fridge that’s now cluttered with drawings just like it and holiday cards from your little family even before she was born.

“I love it, Luce,” he says as he presses a kiss to her forehead. “We’ll put it on the fridge after lunch, okay?” He asks and she nods with that smile that’s the perfect mix of yours and Eddie’s. He then sets her on her feet and lets her head over to the chair she’s always claimed as hers where Eddie is already standing, holding his arms out for her.

“Ready for liftoff?” He asks and she nods again.

“Ready, daddy,” she replies and he lifts her into the air, making all sorts of noises that are supposed to sound like a space ship as he lifts her into the air and sets her in her chair. She’s giggling so loudly and the sound is so infectious that the rest of you are laughing too.

Eddie then moves to his chair that’s across from hers, in between yours and Wayne’s. He scoots closer to you, his chair almost touching yours as he serves you some soup and a grilled cheese. He’s like this all the time, but especially when you’re pregnant. And it’s not because he thinks you’re incapable, it’s just that he loves to take care of you and you let him, loving being pampered.

Once you have your meal, he serves you some water then does the same for Lucy, making sure that she has her favorite plate and cup that Wayne makes sure is always clean just in case he needs to watch her for whatever reason. He always wants to make sure that his girl has what she needs.

“So, Luce,” Wayne speaks up. “You’re going to be a big sister soon. You gonna take good care of Theo?”

“Mhm,” she nods as she takes a sip of juice from her sippy cup then wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “Mommy said I can hold him in the hospital.”

“”And are you excited about that?”

“She won’t stop talking about it,” you laugh. “She’s already very protective of the little guy and he’s not even born yet. It’s that right, bug?” You turn to your daughter.

“That’s right, mommy. If anyone hurts him, I’m gonna kick their ass.” Wayne’s trying not to laugh, but he can’t help it, a cackle passing through his lips and as you glare at him for encouraging the coarse language, he’s quick to cover his mouth with his hand.

“I wonder where she learned that from.” You turn to glare at your husband and he’s quick to shrug, trying his best to act like he didn’t teach her. “Must’ve been the TV.”

“Mhm,” you nod, not convinced then turn back to Lucy. “Bug, we don’t say that word, do we?”

“No, mommy,” she shakes her head. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, baby. Daddy just has a potty mouth, doesn’t he?”

“Daddy didn’t say it, it was uncle Gareth.” Now it all makes sense. Even after five years, the band is still having trouble censoring themselves around your daughter.

“I see. Well, I guess maybe soundcheck is off limits until the boys learn, hm?” And you hate doing that because she loves hearing her dad play when there’s no crowd, but you have to put your foot down.

“You’re really going to say no to that face?” Eddie points across the table to the face that’s a perfect mix of both of yours. She’s batting her eyelashes and you don’t even have to ask where she learned that trick from.

You turn to Eddie who’s doing the exact same thing and this time, it’s not going to get you. The kiss he’s pressing to your hand is not going to work and he knows that so he drops it.

“Fine,” he grumbles. “But she’s coming to the show in New York next week, right? She can’t miss her daddy playing MSG.”

Wayne’s tearing up at the thought of his nephew selling out Madison Square Garden and now he’s fully crying, now being able to keep in his proud tears. He always knew Eddie could do it, but actually witnessing it, well, he’s never been prouder of his nephew.

“Of course she’s gonna be there, baby. Wayne too. I bought his plane ticket last night.”

“I think this is the best birthday I’ve ever had,” Wayne says as he wipes his tears away with a little sniffle and you stand up from the table, rounding it to give the man a much needed hug.

He’s been family to you for so many years now that you don’t even remember a time where he wasn’t in your life. He’s always given you everything you needed when he had nothing, whether it was a place to crash for the night or even just a TV dinner when you needed something to eat. He’s always provided for you and now it’s time to give back.

Wayne has been and will always be someone you will cherish, never taking him for granted and he knows that. He’s always been like a father figure to you and Eddie now that you have the money, you have him set for the rest of his life. He’s got everything he needs and it’s all in this very room, having lunch with him.

“Aww Wayne, you’re gonna make me cry,” you tell him as you pull him in for a hug then reach for the gift you got for him. He reluctantly takes the bag and pulls out the tissue paper, crying even harder when he sees what it is.

It’s a framed photo of a ticket to the very show you all were just talking about. He’s always bragging about his nephew to anyone who will listen and now he’s physical proof of his biggest accomplishment, showing Eddie that he could be whatever he wanted to be despite what all of the losers in Hawkins said. And he did it, the boy actually did it. And Wayne couldn’t be more proud.

“Come here, boy.” Wayne’s crying ever more now as he waves Eddie over, pulling him into a tight hug, tears shed by everyone but Lucy who’s still chewing on her grilled cheese. “You’re the best birthday gift,” he says. “You all are and I am grateful everyday for our little family.”

“Oh, Wayne, you’re always such a sap,” you laugh as you wipe away your own tears.

“And I have every right to because of how proud I am.”

“And we wouldn’t have it any other way,” Eddie responds with a smile.

“That’s my boy,” Wayne claps Eddie on the back and the three of you clear the table of the lunch remnants.

Once the cake was eaten and the dishes all washed and dried, you, Eddie and Lucy, who was asleep in his arms, headed out the door, lingering there as you gave hugs and more well wishes to Wayne.

As the door was closed, he was left alone in the quiet again, already missing the three of you as he takes his gift and brings it into his room, setting it on his bedside table so he can fall asleep to it every night and wake up to it every morning, a reminder that he finally did something right.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #wayne munson

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konigofmyheart · 2 days ago

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long way down

MDNI .ᐟ

you sent risky pictures to your ex, but könig found them instead…

implied age gap, references to manipulation (on ex’s side), virgin fem!reader, suggestive!

♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ

könig groaned, pausing to rub his back as he bent to pick up an envelope right outside his office door, that pesky twinge in his right side reappearing due to having been sat in his office all day, sorting through piles of paperwork. he’d have complained about whoever was on mail duty, except… this letter clearly wasn’t for him. it was face down, its contents poking out: a pretty pink paper and a couple of polaroids?? the only letters he received were bills or work related.

maybe he shouldn’t have, but he took a peek at the pictures, and gott im himmel, they took his breath away. there you are, captured in film, soft shy smiles and silk and lace, such delicate looking lingerie hugging your curves…

he quickly shoves the pictures back in the envelope as his pants get uncomfortably tight, his face warming. say what you will about him, but he’s only human! he unfolds the letter, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips at the cute stationary and lip stick prints at the bottom of the page. without even reading a word he can tell you must really care for this guy, or else you wouldn’t have put that much effort into this letter. what he wouldn’t give to receive even a fraction of this attention, and here’s someone being so careless with gold like this!

könig slides the letter in the envelope, checking the front. stevens??? lucky bastard, he thinks as he heads to the barracks, begrudgingly intending to reunite it with the rightful owner. you’re a cute girl, you wouldn’t want some old dog salivating over your photos, right? plus, stevens isn’t that bad, a wide eyed recruit as könig himself once was, maybe he accidentally dropped this and has been searching for it frantically. turning into the barracks, he hears loud voices and barks of laughter coming from the rec room, and sure enough, there’s stevens playing a game of cards with three other rookies. they’ve got a fair amount of beer bottles stacked to the side, the losing rookie seemingly having emptied more than the others. they make to stand when their colonel enters the room, though a quick wave from könig has them relaxing back into their seats, breathing sighs of relief.

“stevens, you must have dropped this” he says, holding out your letter, happy to almost be done with his good deed of the month. imagine his surprise when stevens shares a look with his friends before responding with a flippant, slurred “ ‘m sorry about that, sir, i meant to throw that rubbish away… ‘s nothing important”, unsteadily rising to his feet and reaching for the envelope. “in that case, i’ll toss it for you. carry on with your game, men,” könig says between gritted teeth, dismissively clapping stevens on the shoulder, hard enough to make him plop back down on the chair with a grunt, before heading out.

how could stevens not care about such a gift?? unless könig got the wrong read on you… he briskly walked to his private quarters, kicking off his boots at the door and hanging his mask on the wall before settling on his bed. he plucked your letter out, opting to leave the dangerously tempting polaroids in the envelope to keep a clear head. slipping on his reading glasses, he began to read your neat script:

“happy valentine’s day, benji,

i’m really hoping this’ll arrive close enough to valentine’s day or else it’ll just be weird… look, i know you probably don’t want to hear from me, but i’m really sorry. i shouldn’t have made such a big deal about you sleeping with rebeca. i now see that you’re entirely right: it was my fault for not being mature enough for you. you have needs, and you couldn’t help it if i wasn’t there to tend to those needs. i’ve thought a lot about it, and i’ve made up my mind. i’m ready to prove my love to you. i’m still nervous, but like you said, you’re a man, and you need more than just hand holding and boring kisses, and it is getting pretty embarrassing to still be a virgin in my mid 20’s… it’s about time, i just had to realize that. i hope you like the pictures i included. i felt kinda ridiculous taking them, but i wanted to to show you just how serious i am about you, and for you to see what i bought to wear for you when you come home, as your late valentine’s day gift… would you please unblock me? i miss your voice a lot… at least text me? i can’t wait to see you again, if you’ll still have me.

p.s. will you be my valentine? please? <3

p.p.s. in case you lost it, my number is-”

and there, printed clearly, is your number. now könig’s getting the full picture. you’re a sweet girl, far too good for an arschloch like stevens and his manipulations. könig feels such anger to find out that jackass filled your head with such nonsense, pressuring you like some desperate teenager, making you feel insecure and guilty like that. stevens is definitely getting picked for every one of könig’s hand to hand demonstrations, no doubt about it. könig would give anything to have someone like you, and he’s willing to do so, to treat you right, as a lovely thing like you deserves. he takes a deep breath, dialing your number and setting with his back against the wall as the line trills. how he’ll convince you to give him a chance, he doesn’t know, but he does know he’ll do whatever it takes...

♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ

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satkru · 2 days ago

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*๑♡՞ . cnc , dead dove: do not eat , extremely dark themes , usage of power over another individual (forgot what thats called) , gun-play , threats , little to unknown amount of consent , read at your own discretion , possibly could be considered a crack fic?? , also slight revenge fucking

p.s . this is a more filler fic than anything as i try to get my writing schedule under control, im mostly getting ideas as i watch the 2nd season of squid games, other than that, i hope this fic can fufill ur dark fantasies!! also this isnt any specific triangle guard, but hes tall and lanky w a big dick, who also seems to be ur ex

y/n didnt know why he even got himself in this predicament, all he wanted was to get some money to pay off the loan sharks and be done with them already. but he was too blindsided by the thought of winning all the money for himself to realize how much of a fuck up he really made, now, he was stuck in a murderous game filled with all types of shitty people who were just like him. y/n lied in bed as the announcement notified the rest of the players about their set bedtime.

he tossed and turned, and even when the lights officially turned off, he still couldnt find a wink of sleep inside his system. so to appear like all of the others, y/n closed his eyes and pretended to fall asleep. minutes went by and the silence in the dark room annoyed y/n more than when the other dunces were screaming their heads off.

in the midst of the silence, y/n couldnt help but hear the shuffling of baggy pants legs rubbing against each other, seeming to draw closer to his bed. suddenly, the noise stopped and the silence that was originally in the room began to seep back in. "player 037, please get up from your bed", the familiar voice of a guard made y/n's eyes shoot open and sat him up straight. the sight of the triangle on the guards mask made y/n tremble, and the assault rifle in front of him scared him shitless. "follow me."

y/n got up from his bed and waddled behind the guard, his heart and mind racing every passing second. the two passed through the door leading into the room that led to the multitude of different games, climbing up the stairs and eventually stopping at the top.

the guard led y/n into the men's bathroom and dragged him into one of the small and isolated bathroom compartments. "your pants." the guard instructed, y/n nodded his head vigorously and dropped his pants as fast as he could, thinking he had some sort of contraband hiding on him that the guards didnt take already.

"turn around." the guard ordered, causing shivers to run down y/n's spine. yet again, the man followed the orders and whipped around as fast as he could in such a small space. the sound of pants unbuckling and clothes shuffling off of someone made y/n's heart drop. "w-wait..! w-what are you doing—!" y/n's question was cut off as he felt his underwear fall from his hips and something shoving its way into his tight hole.

y/n shrieked, the feeling of pain, but also pleasure, ran through his veins and nerves at the same time. "so tight..." the guard whispered as he then began to thrust inside y/n, causing the man to let out confused noises and moans. somehow, such a situation made the man grow harder than he had ever been. could he really be into such a thing?

"keep it down 037.. fuck.. youre so much more tighter than I expected you to be.." the guard let out breathy groans, his hips thrusting into y/n without any hesitation. his arm wrapped around the throat of the player, putting him into a headlock, but not putting any pressure on his neck. it was more like a way to keep y/n's moans low and quiet.

the guard threw his head back in pure bliss, the feeling of his cock being swallowed up by y/n's gummy walls made his groans more audible. "stop squirming 037.. or else i'll have to use more forceful actions to keep you from moving.." the deep and harsh voice commanded y/n once again, "fuck! guard- sir-! im gonna cum!!" the timid and shaky voice of y/n warned the guard that he was soon reaching his climax.

but the guard did nothing to stop the inevitable action y/n would soon face, instead, he quickened his pace and bent more forward. y/n cried out as he was soon taken over by the overwhelming feeling of pleasure, his cock spilling out ribbons of white cum onto the lid of the toilet.

"n-no..! stop! i already came!!" y/n begged as tears dropped from his eyes, his shaky hands tried prying off the arm of the guard from his neck, but there was no use. as his strength slowly left him, the feeling of pure bliss slowly filled the emptiness that his strength had left. "player 037, stop resisting.. oh fuck.. or else.. you'll face a more graver punishment...".

the guard's thrusts became more sloppy and ruthless, leaving y/n breathless and desperate for a break. the sound of wet skin to skin contact filled up the bathroom, echoing off the porcelain tiles of the room. "go on and cum again.. i know you want to" the deep, but also sweet voice of the guard whispered directly into y/n's ear, causing him to lose more of his mind to hysteria.

"im going to fill up this tight hole with so much of my cum it'll be flowing out of you for hours.. you'll have to sit out of the games unless you want my cum to seep out of you and stain your pants.." the guard loosened his arm around y/n's throat and instead grabbed a fistful of his hair. "you want it dont you? just admit you want it all in your guts baby.." although y/n couldnt see it, he knew that the guard had a smug smirk plastered on his lips.

"fuck off why dont you.." y/n choked out before succumbing to the moans bubbling up in his throat. "dont be so mean my love, dont you remember me?" the guard dragged his hand down to y/n's cock, slipping it into his hand and gently caressing it. such a small action made y/n go absolutely mad, making his hole tighten around his aggressors cock. "i could care less on who the fuck you are!! just quicken your pace!!" y/n barked back, his limbs were growing more weak each thrust, causing him to wobble and shake like a newborn horse.

the guard simply chuckled and quickened his pace, "youre still as commanding as you were when we were together.. it riles me up so good!.." y/n couldnt hold back any longer and released his second load of cum onto the toilet once again. "o-okay stop! fuck! please stop!" y/n sobbed, but his cries fell on deaf ears as the guard then released his own load inside of y/n's guts.

"I missed that feeling so fucking bad.." the guard slowly pulled out and watched as his cum drooped onto the floor, y/n's hole was pounded into oblivion, the swollenness and puffiness made it obvious to onlookers. "damn thats hot" the guard purred, his voice low and and barely above a whisper. "a-are we done now..?" y/n asked, hiccups interrupting his breathing every now and then.

"done? oh baby im just getting started.." the guard smugly stated as he took the gun off his shoulders and shoved y/n forward so that the stall would have enough room to be able to thrust his handgun in and out of y/n's already gaping hole. "w-what are you doing?!" y/n screamed and began trying to squirm out of the bathroom, but was stopped when the guard pulled on his hair and shoved him down.

"jeez do you really need to make everything more difficult..?" He snarled before wrapping his arm around y/n's hip to hold him up. Y/n couldnt help but shuffle around, uncomfortable with the humid air constantly hitting his bare ass, along with the harsh degradation from the guard.

Y/n gasped at the cool but sensational feeling of cold and untouched metal at the entrance of his hole, the unfamiliar feeling felt confusing but in that confusion was pure bliss and lust. "thrust.." the player whispered with his face buried in his forearms. The guard smirked under his mask and gladly began to thrust the weapon in and out of y/n.

Y/n through his head back in pleasure, moans coming out of his mouth automatically. drool seeped down his chin and fell on the rim of the toilet. "faster..! i need to cum a second time" y/n commanded, his words laced with sexual frustration as the pistol barely hit any vital points.

"you got it boss" the guard chuckled as he tightened his grip and began to fuck the pistol into y/n's already leaking hole. slight squelching noises bounced off the stall walls along with moderately loud moans. y/n's knees bended more, to the point where they were leaning on one another for support.

y/n's voice progressively got more desperate, his breath was beginning to weigh on him and he could feel another orgasm tightening up in his abdomen. "just a few more baby, then we'll be done" the guard hummed, his own cock strained against y/n's thigh, twitching at every moan and whimper y/n let out.

"im cumming..!!" y/n whined out, he could feel the knot in his stomach slowly untying every thrust the guard threw his way. The gun was coated in cum and moisture from y/n's insides, the mess reached from the start of the pistol all the way back to where the trigger was. y/n loudly moaned as he felt hot ribbons of cum shoot out of him.

"god that was so hot.." the guard whispered, slowly pulling the gun out of y/n, making sure he remembered every last inch of that pistol. y/n's head hanged low, he was trying to regulate his breathing but had difficulty due to the steaminess both him and the guard's questionable actions.

"I'll meet you tomorrow night, be prepared player 037"

#male reader #bottom male reader #sub male reader #squid game #squid games x reader #squid games x male reader

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zepskies · 2 days ago

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BETWEEN THE CITY & THE STARS - Part 2

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: In the fall of 1945, Dean is having a difficult time assimilating back into civilian life after the War. He’s visiting his brother Sam in New York City, where he’s beginning to build up his law firm. At two minutes to closing time, you interrupt their evening to solicit a solicitor. Your request? You need help in order to divorce your husband.

AN: Before we tune back into some 1940s drama, I just wanted to thank you all so much for your wonderful responses on Part 1 of this series. 🥹 It’s my first time doing a story like this, so I’m very happy you liked the jumpstart here. 💖💖

Prompt for @jacklesversebingo: Historical Epic

Song Inspo: “I’ve Got You Under My Skin” by Frank Sinatra

Word Count: 3.7K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, hints of PTSD, flirting, dancing…

✨ Series Masterlist

🎵 YouTube Playlist || Spotify Playlist

Part 2: Devil May Care

After you got home from work the very next day, your apartment was entirely empty.

Predictable. Michael was still out.

This time, you counted it as a blessing. You rifled through every corner, cabinet, pocket, and drawer in search of evidence—anything you could use to prove, without even one shade of a doubt, that your husband was the unfaithful scoundrel you knew him to be. You knew it, deep in your gut. In your very soul.

You even rifled through Michael’s desk in his office, through every single folder, drawer, and booklet. You’d never done such a thing before because he was a particular man about his things, and you respected his privacy.

That was done now. In your search, you found a useless ball of rubber bands and old coupons. You took his father’s old collection of fountain pens, which you knew Michael was precious about, and threw them haphazardly onto the desk to make room for your seeking hands through the rest of the drawers.

You even came across a small, crumpled photograph from your wedding day. This one made you pause.

You considered the picture, its bent corners and slightly grainy black and white lens. You’d worn your mother’s wedding dress, and you stared up at your new husband with the rosiest of smiles. He stared into your eyes then the way he always used to—like a man ready and willing to drown in them.

You sighed and let the picture fall from between your fingertips. It swayed onto the desk’s mahogany wood surface, and rested there. You shook your head and returned your attention to your task at hand, holding your hands to your hips.

The problem was, you didn’t see anything incriminating here…until an idea finally occurred to you. You went into Michael’s closet. You sorted through the suit jackets he still needed to get drycleaned and pressed again.

In one of the pockets, you found a receipt.

You brought it to Sam Winchester’s office the following morning before work, along with some documents of your household expenses. Like you did the afternoon before, he identified the receipt as one for the Cotton Club, a nightclub in the Upper East Side. You had never been there in your life, but you heard it was one of the new go-to spots in town. It was the kind of place you used to wish Michael would take you to, once in a while.

“It could be a lead or it could be nothing, but I’ll check it out, along with these,” Sam said. He gathered the financial documents you gave him as well.

“Okay. Thank you, Mr. Winchester,” you nodded.

“You can call me Sam if you like,” he said, kind, but still professional. You smiled. Unbidden, it reminded you of his brother.

“Please,” you said, your eyes briefly closing. “Just…call me by my name. My first name.”

Dean slowly smiled. “Perfect. I like your name better anyway.”

This time, your smile in return was genuine, if tinged with amusement.

“Goodnight, Dean,” you replied.

Biting the inside of your lip, you gave into the urge to ask the question.

“It was nice of your brother to walk me home last night…what is he up to today then?”

“Ah, well, he’s out to lunch with a young lady he met last night,” Sam replied, with a somewhat wry, but still amused tone to his voice. You frowned.

“Last night? Does your brother meet a lot of women after 9:00 p.m.?”

Sam chuckled. “He’s not usually wanting for company.”

“I see,” you said flatly. You should have known. The devil-may-care grin on that man was too charming to be anything less than the mark of a shameless flirt. Maybe even a scoundrel. Lord knew you couldn’t take any chances either way.

Dean returned from his day out with Vanessa. She was a nice enough girl, a knockout blonde too. She was smart, studying to be a schoolteacher. But she also tended to twitter on about frivolous things, so much that he couldn’t really remember much of what she said. She did look good doing it though. Not to mention, she let him feel her up while they kissed in one of the alleys, between the ice cream parlor and a drycleaners.

He predictably found his brother whittling away life in his office. Dean dropped his coat and hat on the hanger with a flourish. Sam raised his head from his work with an amused smile.

“Had a good day, did you?” he remarked.

“I can’t complain,” Dean agreed. “Especially when a beautiful woman’s involved.”

Sam shook his head. Before September, he hadn’t seen Dean in three years. Yet some things just didn’t change.

“You gonna see her again?” Sam asked.

Dean made a noncommittal sound. “We’ll see. The day is young, brother.”

Sam raised a finger. “Speaking of which. Mrs. Milligan came by this morning. I’ve been looking through her husband’s finances.”

“Oh really?” Dean sobered as he approached his brother’s desk. “What’d you find?”

“Overall, things seemed to be in order, until I noticed something strange,” Sam said. Dean lowered into the chairs opposite his brother at his desk, and they went over it all together. Sam appreciated another set of eyes on this, with the understanding that Dean would keep the information to himself.

Starting roughly eleven months ago, there was a check signed to a Mr. Johnson for a moderate sum. Three weeks later, another check, this time a bit larger. For the past few months, Michael Milligan had been making these payments at least once a month, sometimes as much as three, albeit in different amounts.

“He might just have a gambling problem,” Sam said. He rubbed his chin in contemplation.

“Or it could be what she’s worried about,” Dean pointed out. “The name could be an alias. Maybe Mike’s paying for someone’s services…or paying her bills, if you catch my drift.”

Sam slowly nodded. “That’s a possibility.” He checked the dates on the documents again and shook his head. “Mrs. Milligan told me they got married about a year ago, here in the city. It would mean this guy started stepping out on her a month after the wedding.”

Dean both could and couldn’t believe it. He might not have been a saint himself when it came to the fairer sex, but if he went through the whole ordeal of marrying one, let alone a straight-shooting woman like you, beautiful, clever…

“Geez,” he muttered. “He could’ve at least waited until the ink dried on the certificate.”

Sam nodded in agreement. He picked up the receipt to the Cotton Club, and he shot his brother a grin.

“Wanna go to the club tonight?”

A wall of sound. That was the Cotton Club—the band on stage playing jazz tunes, loudly, if skillfully; the clanking of glasses as drinks rolled past; the clamor of heels and leather shoes as couples swung on the dance floor; and the added layer of people raising their voices to compensate. The room was filled with the smell of cigarette smoke, fighting against perfume and cologne and musk and sweat.

It was a bit overwhelming for Dean at first. He tried to ease himself into the scene with Sam at his side, even if he did jolt at the cork of a champagne bottle popping open. Sam noticed, but he mercifully didn’t say anything. He thumped a hand on Dean’s back to steady him under the pretense of a brotherly pat, adding a smile for good measure.

Sam was there to keep a lookout for Michael Milligan. Dean would help, but it wasn’t like he was being paid for it. He was largely aiming to have some fun while his brother was all serious, focused on the work. Dean was here for the community nightlife.

The beautiful, beautiful community. As a matter of fact, there were lovely ladies everywhere. One sultry blonde was singing an upbeat, jazzy tune at the mic. Dolores Daye, said the banner above the stage.

Dean’s attention shifted from the stage to the scattered round tables outside the dance floor, as well as the chair lined up at the bar. His gaze caught on someone familiar—on you, sat at a table by yourself. His eyes widened. He slowed to a stop while Sam went on ahead.

You were stunning, almost unrecognizable in a shimmering black dress that hugged every lush part of your figure, with sleeves that draped off your shoulders. His eyes drew down your crossed legs, the sheer pantyhose, leading to a pair of tall, shining black heels.

You wore a hat and partial veil that covered half your face, but he knew it was you. Those lips of yours were familiar on sight. Now they were painted red, dark and luscious.

“Dean?” Sam questioned him. He’d turned back when he realized his brother wasn’t keeping up with him. Dean subtly pointed you out. Sam raised his brows, but then he noticed what you were doing. You had a glass of wine in hand, and you seemed to be watching someone.

Every now and then your gaze would travel across the room, where your husband Michael was sat at a table filled with other men and women. They were laughing, drinking, playing cards.

Sam and Dean shared a conspiring look, one that said they had the same thought. They went over to you.

Sensing you were being approached, you looked over and found the pair of tall, familiar men with a widening of your eyes. That pretty mouth of yours fell open in surprise.

“What’re you doing here?” you whisper-hissed. You beckoned them to sit down so they weren’t standing out so much while talking to you. Both Winchester men were broad-shouldered and tall as oaks.

“The same thing you’re doing, apparently,” Sam said, once he and Dean were sitting across from you at the table. He showed you the camera he had hidden in his coat pocket. “I’m going to see if I can get a read on what your husband’s up to, maybe collect some evidence.”

You let out a rush of breath. “Good, thank you.”

“Until then, maybe you’d be more comfortable at home,” he suggested.

Dean knew what his brother was getting at. This wasn’t the kind of place for a woman to be hanging around…unaccompanied. Not a respectable one like you, who clearly wasn’t used to being in a roaring nightclub. Plus, if Michael did slip up here, it wasn’t exactly going to be pleasant for you.

You still shook your head stubbornly. “No. I want to see it with my own eyes.”

Sam almost sighed, but Dean shot him a nod. Right then, they had an understanding. Dean would stay and look out for you while Sam tried to get closer to Michael. Sam left you and Dean together at the table thereafter, and Dean ordered a drink for himself. You sipped at your wine.

Dean glanced at you in appreciation. You really were beautiful…and not just tonight. Though he had to smile at your “disguise.”

“You think that getup is gonna fool your husband?” he remarked, gesturing at your form.

Your lips pursed, but you kept your head angled towards him, so that your hat and veil continued to hide your face from Michael’s direction.

“It has so far,” you retorted. “And this isn’t a getup.”

You smoothed slightly self-conscious hands down the skirt of your dress. Dean smiled.

“All right, I’m sorry. Poor choice of words,” he said. He dropped his chin and raised his brows, earning your gaze under the hat. “It’s quite a dress, sweetheart.”

I’d like to see you out of it, he thought, even though he immediately stamped it down. You weren’t exactly available, no matter how delectable you were. The interesting part was, you didn’t seem to realize it as you fidgeted in your seat, a little self-consciously.

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” you snipped.

His lips tugged at a smirk. He tilted your hat up a little so he could see more of your frowning face.

“Want me to do better?” he teased.

“I’d like you to leave me be. How about that?” you said, grabbing the edges of your hat and tilting it back down. “You’re distracting me.”

“Oh, I’m distracting?”

You met his gaze to give him a hot reply, but your words failed you. Just then, faced with his perfectly handsome, roguish face, you finally noticed how green his eyes were. Holding the gleaming reflection from the crystal chandelier above the bar, they briefly dragged over you again, like he was a starving man, and you were the very last morsel held in front of him.

It was indecent, you thought, but suddenly your mouth had gone dry.

“How about this,” Dean said. He finished off his whiskey and held out a hand to you. “Dance with me. You’ll have a better vantage point to spy on Mike over there.”

“Keep your voice down,” you shushed, glancing around.

Dean just smirked. He beckoned you again with a raise of his brows.

You hesitated, but you still eventually dropped your hand into his. He stood before you so he could help you to your feet. You allowed him to escort you over to the dance floor, and all the while you fought off your nerves. You were only doing this because he had a good idea; this would help you keep an eye on Michael without looking so out of place, a woman drinking alone at the table.

The band was playing a moderately paced song, which was good. You weren’t in this to be swept into the air.

“Relax,” Dean whispered, once he had you in his arms. His hands were respectably placed on your waist and in your hand. You knew you did have to relax though. Already you were too stiff while tentatively holding his hand, your other resting on his shoulder.

“I haven’t danced in—in a while,” you admitted. You were a little nervous as you began swaying with Dean, letting him lead you. He turned you about with ease, even twirling you under his hand.

“See? There’s nothing to it,” he said, welcoming you back into his arms. “When’s the last time you had some fun?”

You tilted your head as you thought about it. You and Dean shuffled about the dance floor in more complicated steps as the song increased in tempo. You were breathless in a good way. In a way that you couldn’t even remember needing to breathe as the golden lights sparkled in the corners of your eyes.

“He took me to a club like this once, about…I’d say month or so after we got married last year,” you admitted between spins. You had to hold a hand to your head to keep your hat on.

You were distracted enough by it all—the spinning, the laughter and tinkling glasses, the flashes of spotlight in between sultry dim shades, the heady smell of this man’s cologne, and his every touch, however brief on your body, but just as confident and measured. You actually told him the truth.

“I’ve been dying to get out more ever since, but…” you trailed as he spun you again, then winded you back into the growing familiarity of his arms.

Dean smoothly guided you even closer to him by your waist, until there was hardly any room between your chest and his, between your face and his. Your hand curled around the back of his neck on instinct, the edge of your nails just barely grazing through his hair. You wouldn’t know how it elicited a hot zing of sensation down his spine.

“Your husband really is blind, and even dumber than he looks,” Dean said, glancing down at your face. “I clocked you in five seconds flat, just by those pretty lips.”

You lowered your eyes, but not very far. They landed on his plush lips in contemplation. When your eyes met his again, Dean had a conundrum. He just didn’t think he cared all that much about the consequences.

His head began to bow towards yours, just when the song slowed to a stop. Almost without realizing it, he pressed his hand a little more insistently on the small of your back. You found yourself accepting that guiding pressure. Half-lidded eyes and heavy, mingled breaths in between…

“Let’s hear it again for Dolores Daye, everybody!” the host called out.

You snapped to attention and glanced over Dean’s shoulder at the singer. She waved goodbye to the crowd with a sensuous smile on her ruby red lips. Then she walked off stage in her glittering golden dress, and she grabbed hold of a man’s tie. That man was your husband.

Michael wore a wide smile on his face as she led him to his feet by his tie. He stood, his form looming over her, though she didn’t seem to mind—especially when his arm wrapped too familiarly around her waist.

It wasn’t the kind of embrace you would see between strangers, even for the sake of a good show for the crowd. Their faces became impossibly close, but it was just shy of a kiss as she laughed, a sound like fine crystal bells.

Dean noticed why you froze. He turned to look over his shoulder and his expression faded, becoming grim. He led you off the stage, and while keeping a discreet eye on the scene, he lingered at the bar in the center of the room. His arm stayed around your waist. He could tell himself it was to stay in character, but really, he just wanted to keep you grounded…that right now, you weren’t alone.

Here by the bar, it was far enough that Michael likely wouldn’t notice you, but close enough that you both could hear what was happening.

The host stepped down from the stage and joined Dolores and Michael, laying a heavy hand on your husband’s shoulder. Yet another clue that Michael showed his face here all too frequently. The host waved over his entire table of friends, Sam included. He’d managed to get himself invited to sit with them.

“Come on. Join us out back,” said the host, gesturing behind the curtain.

“Where to?” Sam asked.

“For a card game or two, a little smoke, a nice little drink,” Michael said, grabbing Sam’s shoulder. “You in?”

Sam nodded. He glanced over and found Dean across the room with his eyes. They shared a brief, but telling look, after which Sam followed Michael and Dolores past the curtain discreetly. Meanwhile, you were already pulling away from Dean’s arm.

“I’m sorry. I’ve got to go,” you murmured.

You went back to the table to collect your purse. You left the rest of your wine there with a few bills on the table to cover it, and you were off, walking brusquely to the front doors. Dean followed suit, laying some money down for his own drink before he followed after you. The clerk at the front brought you your coat after you handed over your ticket, and Dean did the same.

“Hey, why don’t I take you home,” he said, having to raise his voice even here over the noise.

“No, thank you,” you said thickly.

After you had your coat on, you hastened to the closest bus stop outside the club. It was late, it was dark, and it was cold. You saw your fragile breath on the air as you stood there in your tall heels, and you held yourself for more than one reason as you fought off bitter tears.

You bit your lip and blinked against the burn, but you still had to swipe a few droplets quickly from your cheeks. You tried to even out your shallow breaths. It felt like someone had reached into your chest and started squeezing whatever they found. Whatever was left.

Dean sidled up to you with his hands in his pockets. You heaved a sharp sigh, recognizing him just by his shadow casting beside yours under the streetlamp. You kept your face away from him as you wiped at your tears.

“Why do you insist on watching me be miserable?” you asked.

“Aw, come on, sweetheart.” He shook his head, carding a hand through his hair. “I know you’re upset. I just want to make sure you get home safe, that’s all. …You don’t even have to talk to me if you don’t want to.”

You slowly shot him a glance, but you didn’t budge. Your frown deepened along with your furrowed brows.

“Dean, please. You don’t have to do this just because you feel sorry for me,” you said.

“I don’t feel sorry for you,” he said.

It earned your attention, your confused and hurt expression.

Dean met your gaze steadily. “I feel sorry for him. Because he doesn’t have a clue what he’s just lost.”

Your breath stilled in your lungs.

His words touched you, more deeply than he probably realized. Part of you still wanted to give a sharp retort, that you didn’t need a chaperone. You didn’t need him to swoop in and collect you like broken glass…but a larger part of you craved the company. You didn’t want to be alone.

Soon enough, the next bus pulled up at the curb in front of you. The doors opened.

Dean gestured with a sweeping hand towards the bus’s steps.

Ladies first.

With another small sigh, you climbed up without a word. You even accepted his helping hand as you did so. Dean stepped up after you, and the doors closed behind you both.

AN: Welp, Happy Valentine's Day! 😅💜 Quite literally an angsty ride here, but what should happen on this bus going nowhere...

Next Time:

You admired his hands as they rested casually in his lap. They were larger than yours, with long fingers. His hands look strong and capable, like the rest of him, even though they were always considerate when they touched you.

“Then you should do something you like doing,” you said. “Fixing cars! That’s good, honest work you can make a living out of.”

Dean looked over at you. “You think so?”

You nodded your encouragement, smiling bright. “I know so. You might be a bit of a flirt, but you also look like someone who can accomplish whatever you set your mind to.”

When those words slipped free from your mouth, you realized how he might take that little accusation, let alone how overeager you sounded. Your gaze fell away from him as you felt your face getting warm in a blush.

Dean’s smile slid into a smirk. “I’m a flirt, huh?”

“Well…” You bit the inside of your lip and tried your hardest not to look at him for a while. “At least you’re an honest one.”

Dean laughed freely at that.

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cherry-coffees · 1 day ago

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Would you write caitlyn with short chubby reader? Just fluff maybe reader is a lil insecure about her body type compared to the other women cait had been seen with?

Yes, ofc I will lovely! Hope you like <3

cw: mentions of body dysmorphia, insecurity, comparison to others

You love Caitlyn.

I mean, obviously. She's been your girlfriend for a little over a year now. You love going out with her in Piltover, always proud to be seen next to the Caitlyn Kiramman. And you love the nights when you just stay back at the Kiramman manor, especially when Caitlyn tugs you in to rest against her chest, her chin settling on the top of your head. She loves it too, you know, when your nights are filled with sleepy cuddles and soft kisses. You always seem to be in tune with each other, fitting together like yin and yang.

You know Caitlyn loves you: she shows it in her every word and action and gentle forehead kiss she gives you at the end of a long day. But sometimes, you can't help the slight tinge of insecurity that overwhelms your thoughts.

You've seen the other women Caitlyn's been with: Vi, Maddie, even the women that approach her at bars with heated eyes and flattering words. They're gorgeous. You are, too, at least from what Caitlyn tells you every day. But you've seen certain patterns: clear skin, muscular, slim, taller than you...

You just can't help but wonder what makes you different. Why she chose you over all the girls in Piltover that look like tall, skinny models. Caitlyn can have any girl she wants: half of Piltover is in love with her beauty and strength.

So when Caitlyn suggests a beach trip that a few of her friends are pushing for, you're less than thrilled.

"Hey darling?" Caitlyn calls from her office. She's been in there for a few hours, sorting through her usual paperwork she needs to fill out to keep Piltover running.

You glance up from your spot on the couch in the next room. "Yeah? What's up?"

You hear the shuffle of papers and the sound of her desk chair before your girlfriend appears in the doorway, flashing you a smile that always seems to make you weak. "Mel asked me about going to the sea for a few days," Caitlyn eyes you with curiosity. "She extended the invitation to you as well. We can walk on the beach, go swimming, have a bonfire...what do you think?"

You blink, staring at her silently for a second. "Oh, uh— the beach?"

"Mhm."

Your gaze drops to your lap. "Oh."

Caitlyn's eyebrows furrow, picking up on your less-than-excitement at the idea. She moves to you, sitting on the couch beside you. "Darling? Are you alright?"

"Yeah," you bite the inside of your cheek. "It's just..."

It's just that you'll be surrounded by Caitlyn and her friends. Mel is gorgeous: slim and fit, as are her other friends. You can't imagine being in a bikini by the water, beside all these other girls. And you know Caitlyn loves you, you know. You just can't help but wonder if she's ever had these same thoughts you're having right now. Would she notice that you didn't have the same body type as these model-like women?

"It's just what?" Caitlyn clasps one of your hands between her own, stroking the back of it with her thumb. "Talk to me, please."

"I-" you hesitate, your voice coming out small. "I don't know about being in a swimsuit in front of everyone."

"Oh," the word falls from her lips in a hushed breath, and that's all you have to say. Caitlyn knows. You've confided in her about your insecurity in your body type previous times, but that doesn't make it any easier.

"Look at me," Caitlyn coaxes your head to angle up, your eyes meeting her icy blue ones. "My darling. You're so beautiful, I'd love to see you in a bikini or swimsuit or anything else you decide to wear."

A flicker of doubt crosses your expression, and Caitlyn's heart aches. "Thank you, Cait. But I know I don't look like— like Vi or Maddie or-"

"Woah, woah," Caitlyn cuts you off, her features contorting into further concern. "Why are you bringing them up? You shouldn't be thinking about them. You're my girlfriend, not them."

"But they were," you burst out, unable to help your thoughts spilling out. "They were, and I can't help but notice that I don't look like them, that I'm not your usual type in girls. And it makes me worry if you're really happy with me."

You don't have time to say anything more before you feel a pair of soft lips on your own. Caitlyn kisses you gently, her hand cradling the back of your neck to pull you into her. Your eyes slide shut and you lean into the touch before she pulls back a few minutes later, her breath ghosting over your lips.

"Darling," Caitlyn's eyes are so soft that it makes your heart ache. "You are the only girl in my eyes. I adore you, truly. Your heart is the most important thing to me, what I love the most about you, but I also love your beauty. There is no one in the world more beautiful to me than you. I am the happiest with you, more than I could ever be with anyone else."

"You really don't mind that I don't look like all the girls that hit on you?"

"Love, I don't pay attention to any other girls besides you. I don't remember what they look like, and I don't care," she presses her lips to your arm, trailing gentle kisses down the length of it. "My sweet darling. I love you more than anyone in this entire world. I'd be in a room full of people, and you'd be the one who catches my attention every time. You're sweet and loving and beautiful and mine."

Caitlyn raises her head, placing another peck to your lips. "If you don't feel comfortable going, we won't. But I always want you beside me, my love, wearing whatever you want. And I hope you know how much I adore you."

"I do," you exhale, slight guilt creeping up on you for making your girlfriend worry. "Sorry, I know you love me, I-"

"Hey," Caitlyn murmurs. "It's okay. You're okay. I'll remind you how much I love you every day, if you need it. It's okay to feel however you do, just please promise me you'll always come to me when you need me."

"Okay," you mumble, and then Caitlyn's tugging you right back into her arms where you belong. And you feel safe and loved and so undeniably hers that you forget all about the what-ifs. You're here with Caitlyn. And honestly, that's all you really need.

I really really hope I did your request justice! I know body dysmorphia, insecurity, and comparison are different for everyone, so I hope this is what you were hoping for. I honestly think that Caitlyn would just shower you with all her love if you felt insecure about anything, so I hope I conveyed it well!

Much love <333

~Cherry 🍒

#cherry's requests 🍒#caitlyn kiramman #caitlyn x reader #arcane #cherry writes 🍒#caitlyn x you #fanfic #fanfiction #arcane fanfic #arcane fanfiction #lesbian #arcane fandom #caitlyn arcane #arcane caitlyn #caitlyn kiramman x reader

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angstywaifu · 1 day ago

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Black Dahlia - 36. The Only Mare In His Stable

Summary: With War Games and her first year over, Dahlia finally has the time to seek out Garrick. But maybe he just beats her to it.

Garrick Tavis x OC (Dahlia Aetos)

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Of course Xaden had to pick the one spot to defend that had the longest flight there and back. My body was screaming at me to rest. We’d barely gotten time to sleep and fully rest. But it had been worth it. We’d successfully defended our outpost and taken over others in the area. I swear to gods we better have won this. Otherwise Xaden might need to hide for the next few days.

”It will get easier little flower.” Proth drawls in my head. But I can tell he’s just as exhausted as me through the bond.

”I know. And please don’t call me that anymore.” I tell him, my mind going back to when Garrick had used the name as he’d pulled a the first of many orgasms from me that night.

Proth chuckles in my head. “I have always called you that. The large one can find another name, or you can learn to separate the two.”

I can’t help but laugh at his nickname for Garrick. “You say that like it’s going to happen again.”

”I have spent the last five days listening to you think about him like a lovesick puppy even when you think you aren’t thinking about him.” He snaps at me. “So please do us both a favour and sort out whatever this is when we get back.”

Noted. And I’m sure my friends would be bugging me for updates as soon as I’d had time to shower and get back to normal. Damn Bodhi and his inability to keep his mouth shut. I sag with relief as the flight field comes into sight, only a few squads ahead of us as they make their way down to the Rotunda. I can’t see it from here, but I know it will be filled with the rest of the Quadrant waiting for the last of us to return so they can reveal the winner of War Games.

My feet barely touch the ground before Proth takes off, clearly wanting to rest after the long flight. We all fall into a comfortable silence as we follow Xaden through the field and down the stairs. All of us too exhausted to talk amongst each other. As we walk into the Rotunda I can’t help but scan the squads to find him. And due to his height he’s easy to spy down the back of tail section, his body sagging in relief as he sees me alive. I’d like to say unharmed, but I now sport a new scar on my right jaw that extends onto my neck from a well thrown dagger from second wing. And from what I can see he’s unharmed, just exhausted like the rest of us. His squad had been on the opposite end of our area, meaning we hadn’t crossed paths at all in the five days.

As soon as we take our spot Panchek steps forward. We must have been the last squad back. “Congratulations on surviving War Games. Just a small taste of what you will all do one day when you graduate. Tomorrow once all Squads have been accounted for, we will conduct the death roll and graduation. But for now, we must declare a winner.”

The quadrant buzzes with excitement, everyone mustering whatever energy they can. But as I scan the other squads I note a good number of them clearly showered and rested. Lucky bastards.

Markham walks forward, handing a scroll to Panchek who unrolls it, keeping his face void of any emotion as he reads it. His eyes raise to us, scanning the wings in front of him. Everyone going silent as they anxiously await the results.

”The winner of this years War Games after a very impressive battle this year, is Fourth Wing!” He calls out before the Quadrant is deafened by the cheers of our wing.

I’m immediately pulled into the arms of my Squad, Xaden begrudgingly joining us as Bodhi pulls him in. All of a sudden relaxing and a shower is the last thing on my mind, on any of our minds. We’d fucking won War Games. Guess I wouldn’t need to murder Xaden for picking the outpost that he did. Slowly we break apart, my other squad members moving away to congratulate the rest of our wing.

I can’t help but look over at Dain who looks thoroughly annoyed his wing hadn’t won. I’m sure Panchek had read out the placements of the other Wings, but I’d been too lost in the cheers of my Wing to hear it. Dain furrows his brow at me. No, not me. Something behind me. His eyes looking at something above me. I turn to see Garrick pushing his way over to me. My heart starts beating loudly in my chest as he gets closer.

I open my mouth to say something, but he rushes forward, grasping my face in his hands as he crushes his lips to mine. All I can register is the warmth of his hands, the firm pressure of his lips, and the way my pulse thrums like a drum in my ears. My hands instinctively rise, clutching at his flight jacket, half for balance, half in disbelief.

The cheers of my Wing morph into hoots and hollers, but they feel distant, like they belong to a world I’m no longer part of. When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against mine, and his breath comes in shallow bursts. His eyes, bright and intense, search mine, as though he’s trying to find words but can’t quite manage them. The silence between us feels louder than the noise around us.

“You—” I start, but my voice catches, barely above a whisper. “What was that?”

Garrick smirks down at me. “Making what I want clear. This,” He says as he gestures between us, “Is not just sex. Not anymore. You made it clear what you wanted from me to even consider this being a thing. And I did it.” I swear I note a slight shake in his hand, but it’s hard to tell with how hard we’re both breathing.

”You barely know me.” I say as I look down at where my hands still grip his jacket.

”You know that isn’t true. We might have spent most of the year despising each other, but we both know more about each other than we care to admit.” Garrick puts a finger under my chin, guiding my eyes back to him. “So, what do you say to being the only mare in my stable?”

My heart pounds in my chest, drowning out everyone around us as I look up at Garrick. And after a few seconds where I swear Garrick looks scared, I nod up at him. And for the first time since I was a kid, I beam up at Garrick, unable to hold back the smile at the way he’s asked me. But with the amount of times I’d thrown that analogy at him, it was fitting.

”Imogen! I want my ten gold pieces!” Bodhi yells out, startling us both as he pushes past Austin and Liz, walking towards Imogen who shakes her head and tries to walk away from him.

”Did they-”

”Yeah, they placed a bet on us.” Garrick confirms with a shake of his head.

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dwarf-vader-of-middle-earth · 3 days ago

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"They need to have a safe adult to process this stuff with." YES!! A MILLION TIMES YES!!!

So story time!! When I was a kid, my middle school was weird. It was 4th grade through 8th grade. That meant you had kids ages like 8 to 14 in there. And that is a HUGE broad range of ages and developments! Immensely huge!!

But as a result, you had literal children exposed to swearing, sex jokes, puberty, reproductive talks, mentions and even sights of drugs.

That was a TON to handle!! For a child to see that and hear that all?! It was too much to handle alone. And the sad part is a lot of the kids did end up handling it alone. And they became fucked over trying to make sense of it all. Some, in late high school, sorted that out, but many didn't.

I was lucky to have a mother who talked with me about it all. She sat me down if I had questions or concerns, she spoke to me and my brother about these very adult topics, and from a young age, I'm talking like at age 10, she trusted me enough to understand what the word cock could be, aka either a chicken or a dick.

She helped me to process this all. Make it less scary and intimidating.

My mother even helped me learn what consent was when I was 9, and how to say no if someone did something I didn't want.

And when I was a little kid, she took me on shopping trips and sometimes she stopped in the liquor store, and I'd go in, and I didn't care or mind. She didn't mind. She was exposing me so I understood it, and she knew I wouldn't be tempted later on when I could legally drink. Hell, as a teen if I wanted a beer, or a glass of champagne, she didn't deny me, but I also never did want that because I just wasn't interested.

Even now, as an adult, I don't really like alcohol. The taste is weird, and all I would drink is mead and maybe a beer.

But it's because my mother exposed me safely with her guidance at a young age that I understood and knew my limits and grew up to not be tempted by adult things that so many are sheltered from to "protect" them.

Those kids aren't protected. They're endangered. Because they do not know the limits and dangers of themselves or what they are imbibing as adults the way they would know if they grew up with someone to guide and help them know these things.

Now when I did reach high school, our freshman year was sex ed in health class. And the thing is, our state legally requires to offer parents/guardians the option offered to opt their child out.

These people were notified by email, and they could opt their children out. They had to sign a document to allow the kids to learn, and if the kid showed up without that document for the day?

That kid got opted out.

So many parents did this. Most for religious excuses, but I say "excuses" because that's what it is. Everyone should be made to learn sex ed and properly, not with just abstinence only, or religious-based sex ed.

And so many of those same parents who opted their children out, I knew them. Because it's a tiny town where you know everyone first, middle, last name, probably even deepest darkest secret.

And those parents were the exact ones who tried so damn hard to shelter their children, teens, even, from adult subjects and environments. Didn't let them even so much as look at alcohol. Wouldn't let them even hear a single swear or the word "sex" lest that parent shame you half to fucking death for exposing their child to inappropriate subjects. Prevented their kids from playing videogames at all or from listening to so many musical genres and artists, reading most books or watching most shows and movies. They did everything to shelter those kids. And I mean EVERYTHING.

But many of those same kids grew into adults and, underexposed or entirely unexposed to adult things and subjects, they went off the rails once on their own. OD'ed or had kids at 18 by accident, got arrested for stupid shit and having illegal weapons, got caught in domestic violence situations, you name it. Some went on to advocate the same way their parents taught them and try to do what they experienced, doing away with sex ed and fighting tooth and nail to "cleanse" the internet and media for children to be "safe" from the "horrors" of adulthood.

But do you know what happens when a person who's been through tough things hides those behind a wall and refuses to engage with and process those tough things? What happens when said person protects themselves from trauma without confronting it?

That can outright cause a psychological break.

It did for me. I put my trauma behind a wall, hid it, never confronted it, and wound up fucked in the head for years and I'm still trying to recover as an adult. Granted it was unrelated trauma to the subject, but point is:

These parents trying to protect their kids are walling them up. They are shoving them behind that wall hard, and when it comes crashing down once that kid is an adult, they're left to their own devices as they try figuring out how to navigate this world put up to them as so horrifying and terrifying and evil.

But they're adults. So many of their parents expect them to just figure it out on their own. No help.

And that, in my eyes, is the equivalent of a psychological break. Being suddenly exposed to the "trauma" of the world and left to handle it alone does no one any good, and everyone I've known that had to endure such an ordeal is either screwed over even worse than I am, or they're dead. Outright dead by terrible circumstances.

Yet those of us who were lucky enough to have adults that, from a young age, helped us understand these adult things?

We were better able to understand how to avoid the dangers of them, regulate ourselves, and keep safe from terrible circumstances which, quite sadly, killed a good few people I used to know.

Understanding the limits, the dangers, the subjects of adult situations and things, does not prevent the individual from being safe from them entirely. But it does help them understand what they're getting into and how to get out if caught.

You cannot stop your children from doing bad things, but you can prepare them to know the full range of what they're getting into so that, if they do said things, at least they can be safe about it.

Maybe instead of asking what if a kid sees/hears this adult thing, we ask why is that kid in an adult space and get them to leave, instead of forcing all the adults to change and cater to the child who wandered into THEIR SPACE.

#tw drugs mention

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yourtypicalhuman09 · 2 days ago

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Beyond The Bat

(Neglected Reader x Yandere batfam)

Chapter 2: Hidden Truths

TW!!! Cursing !!Dark AU!!Mentions of Rape and Violence(not towards reader)!!

(N/N)- your nickname

3rd POV

The long twisting halls of the manor glowed radiantly with a childlike joy. Colorful drawings were plastered on walls and little trinkets and toys were scattered along rooms and hallways causing the young boy walking down the hall to chuckle and smile amusedly. 'What am I going to do with you' he thought to himself, smirking as he heard the small giggles of his sweet little sibling coming from his room. The boy walking into his room smiling at the sight of the young child laying on his bed kicking their feet as they drew.

"(N/N) you know you have to pick up after yourself after playing"

The little child immediately jumped up with excitement and ran towards the boy who opened his arms for a hug.

"Jay!"

(Y/N) squealed with joy as they jumped up into Jason's arms giving him their best attempt of a bear hug. Jason ran his fingers through their soft locks as he sat on the bed peering at their drawing.

"So what did you draw (N/N)?"

(Y/N)'s eyes lit up with excitement as they scrambled off Jason's lap to grab their drawing.

"Look Jay it's you, me, Dickie, and daddy! We're on one of those night adventures you guys promised me I could go to when I'm older!"

Jason looked at his little sibling, who held up their drawing proudly, with an affectionate smile. The drawing was as colorful as the others scattered in the manor, it depicted four figures on top of a tall building looking at the city hand in hand. Jason loved that his little sibling wanted to be with them, when they get older he hopes that they'll still want to go with them even after knowing the truth that these midnight adventures are more dangerous than their innocent mind may think. The image of him helping his beloved younger sibling train and fight by his side makes his heart swell with joy.

"It's beautiful (N/N), just a few more years and it'll be real"

"Really?! Pinkie promise?!"

Jason smiled fondly at little (Y/N) and wrapped his pinkie finger around theirs

"Yeah, pinkie promise..."

(Y/N) POV

I woke up huffing and sweating, looks like I fell asleep working on my project. After school I had met up with Cyrus and he dropped off the supplies I asked him to get. I was currently working on the biggest project of my entire life I need to get serious, no more sleeping or slacking off. Gotham was easily one of the most dangerous places in the US, even with all the heroes patrolling the area crime rates are through the roof. Despite what most think Gotham Prep isn't filled with only rich kids, there's also kids coming from middle or low class families who work their asses off to make sure their children have good lives. Unfortunately most who work here are bastards who submit to bribery or are just simply biased towards the rich, I however have no such bias. Casualty rates are extremely high for children, buses and schools are constantly in the crossfire of massive fights and unfortunately due to bad city planning there's pubs, clubs, and bars dangerously close to many schools. Rape and death are nothing new to even young children, it's sick and horrible but it's true. The police and heroes are preoccupied with keeping people safe from villains and bigger threats, so I've put it on myself to make something to at least help all the children, poor or rich, because at least most have themselves and loving friends and families to live for. I want to make some sort of public child safety technology and years of seeing Tim work and learning about technology has given me some sort of advantage to figuring this out. I have only the resources to make one for the school but hopefully it's successful and spreads to other schools and homes.

"Oh you're awake.! Mornin sleepin beauty."

I looked up to see Cyrus walk in chuckling and holding a plate of food.

"why are you here... you didn't have to wait here at the school with me."

"Oh no it's no problem at all! Plus I was worried about you, you've been workin yourself to the bone as of late."

I froze and looked at him but he just stood there with the same grin he always wears as if it was truly nothing. Why the hell would he be worried about me? No one ever worries about me so why does he? Why why why why why why why why why why why why why wh-

"Hey it's ok (Y/N), breathe in and out... breathe with me..."

I could barely hear anything he was saying but when he put a hand on my shoulder and guided me to breathe slower I could feel myself calming down.

"(Y/N)... I know your situation at home isn't the greatest but trust me you're safe with me... I care about you (Y/N)..."

I looked up at Cyrus, he was almost unrecognizable, I've never seen him this serious and worried before. Usually he's the stupid silly one and I'm the collected one-. Red hot embarrassment shot straight though me as I scrambled away from him and straightened myself out.

"I'm sorry you had to see me like that Cyrus, I would appreciate it if we never talk of this shameful event."

I turned and walked away, missing the way Cyrus' face crumpled further with worry, despair, and longing. Missing the words of reasoning he tried to make me listen to, 'No (Y/N)... it's ok... nothing shameful...come back'.

Author's Note: I'm so sorry for being gone for so long😭🙏 School has been killing me plus practice ugh shoot me now🥲🔫 Anyways I hope y'all like this chapter and like always thank you for reading and I hope y'all have a good day/night!

Credits to khaer for the dividers

@simpingpandas @rosalietodd013 @sirenetheblogger @cim0nnin @00hellohello00 @crazycaoticsimp @lovebug-apple @youdontknowshtaboutfk @kittzu @h-ib @classicsimpforaaronwarner

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aliwritex · 2 days ago

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hi this is kinda weird request ig lol but since it's valentine's day could you make a franco fic where he goes to his bsf house (cuz she lives in monaco and he's in monaco now, at least was in this morning for business / might not be an important information but it could be an excuse for him to stay over at her house or whatever) and both are single so they're the only valentine option to each other ?

notes: i’m only an hour late i’ve seen people post kinktober in december have mercy 🙏🏽 this is also short but there’ll be part two with smut that’s how i’m choosing to apologize edit: changed the header to match pt 2

You thought another valentine’s day alone wouldn’t bother you so much – since it would be the 20th of your life. You had girlfriends over for dinner the night before and had planned to stay in on the 14th, do some crafts maybe and clean up the decorations from your ‘galentines’ dinner.

In fact, you were fine, you didn’t really mind till you opened up instagram and saw everyone getting flowers, then moved to tiktok for distraction and everything was valentine’s themed.

You just groaned and put on phone down, deciding to do something else, but just as you did it chimed. You picked it back up again, it was a text from your friend.

“wyd tonight?” “nothing i’m guessing”

“you don’t have to say it like that” “you’re alone too this year” you replied

“i just landed in monaco” “we should hang out, later tho cause now i need a nap”

You agreed on dinner, at your place – you figured all the restaurants would be too busy and you didn’t want to pass as a couple. So hours later you found yourself setting up the table for another homemade dinner in your tiny apartment.

Franco didn’t knock, he texted you that he was on his way and you told him the door was unlocked. So he caught you bringing the food to the table and called out your name softly to not scare you. It still scared you, but it’s the intention that counts. When you turned around he had a bouquet of flowers and a bottle of wine.

“I was feeling festive” he explained “also thought you deserved something since you’re the one feeding me”

“I missed you,” you moved to hug him and couldn’t help but enjoy inhaling his cologne and having his arms wrapped around your waist, “haven’t seen you since last year. You look-“ you stopped to take a look at him “tan”

It’s not that you had a crush on Franco, you just knew and acknowledged that he was a handsome man. And he smelled really good, always. The fact was, he was the only close male friend that you had so your brain was always confused about your feelings towards him. Certainly you’d say you loved your girlfriends and would do anything for them but it was different with him, you didn’t really know where to cross the line. Besides, your friends always say that someday you might just end up together.

“What a latin summer gets you. Can we eat? I’m starving and this smells amazing” he asked as soon as you let go of him.

“Yeah, yeah. Can you serve us and wait in the living room while I deal with the flowers? We can catch up while we eat “

Franco gladly followed your instructions and walked to the couch with two plates as you got your flowers sorted. It was really sweet of him to get you a bouquet, though you couldn’t help but think it was a bit uncharacteristic of him to do so. You had never hung out on valentine’s before, so maybe he was just, in fact, feeling festive.

You had to stop your overthinking by the time you were done with the flowers, so you served some wine and made your way to the couch.

Besides the crazy thoughts in your head, your friendship with Franco had always been easy. One of those that you can just sit and talk about everything, it came easy for both of you. So by the time you were done with dinner you had already been through a thousand different topics and you had your head on his lap.

“So, what has got you spending Valentine’s alone? Not even desperate girls begging to get dicked down?”

“Can’t I take the time to come see you?” he raised his eyebrows as he looked down at you.

“Oh, don’t flatter me. I’d rather it was someone else instead of you, too, so don’t feel bad”

“I didn’t wish it was someone else, I like being with you. Besides, I think we had a proper valentines, dinner, flowers, wine, we’re basically only missing one thing” he teased, but you didn’t catch it, too busy scrolling through netflix to find something to watch.

“The chocolate, right? I swear I hid a box from myself last week but I couldn’t find it earlier. Can you bel-“

“That’s not what I was talking about, ¡por dios!” he said, frustrated before bending down to kiss you.

You were in shock for a second, unable to move as his lips pressed against yours till he pulled away to look at you. Then you didn’t hesitate in sitting up and reaching back for the kiss. His hand reached for your face, pulling you closer and smiling when your lips brushed.

Your noses bumped before he kissed you again. You could almost taste the wine on his stained lips and it made you want more. So when your lips parted and interlocked you sighed against his, letting him kiss deeper and deeper into your mouth.

You hadn’t realized how much you actually wanted him till then but since you got a taste you couldn’t stop yourself. Your hands met the back of his neck, pulling him closer as his fell to your legs, guiding you to straddle him. In no time you were sat on his lap, making out, tasting each other’s mouths as you felt heat travel from your faces down to your cores.

#a writes #franco colapinto x reader

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issues4him · 3 days ago

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surprising rafe as his pilot on his flight!

rafe x pilot!reader

a/n: sorry if yall aren’t into this, but i’m a pilot so obviously i need to incorporate rafe into my aviation life right lol

cw : fluff! airplanes & aviation terms, one use of yn

rafe sighed against the wall, absolutely NOT wanting to be at the airport right now. his plane was delayed by an hour—“maintenance issues” or some shit. he was currently sitting inside norfolk international airport, stuck in the middle of the terminal waiting on the motherfucker 10 spots in front of him to just shove his luggage into the upper head bin.

rafe absolutely hated airports. he hated how busy they all were. he hated being in the midst of how dumb people could be. he hated the crammed seats and having to get stuck next to a big, smelly old guy. and yeah—he was a nervous flyer. he had no idea how you did it. he’d never admit it, but it was honestly intimidating to him.

“fuckin’ hell.” he grumbled, rubbing his face with his hand in frustration. finally, the line starts moving once again. rafe places his hand on the outside of the airbus a320, feelings it’s cold metal against his fingertips. it was his own superstition he had—the reason he always landed safely was because he touched the plane before he entered.

rafe made his way down the aisle, giving the prior motherfucker a glare as he sat down in C3. he fumbled with his things, shoving his carry-on bag underneath the seat in front of him. rafe was so pissed off he felt like he could kill everyone within a 1 mile radius.

he was on his way to houston, texas, to meet ward and rose for a ‘vacation’. of course, he didn’t want to travel with them, as that would’ve set him off for real.

“excuse me, i think you’re in my seat.” a deep voice was heard beside him. he turned his head, eyebrows furrowing in irritation.

“nah. ‘m not.” he said sharply to the middle aged man standing in the aisle. the mans eyes widened in shock at rafe’s bluntness.

the older, brunette flight attendant came over to the both of them, an annoyingly fake smile on her face. “excuse me, are you rafe cameron?”

he looked up at her, honestly not prepared for the definite stress she was going to throw at him. “uhuh.” he mumbled.

“we’re going to be moving your seat up to first class.” she explained, waiting for him to grab his things and get out of the tiny seat he could barely fit in.

confused, but certainly not mad about it, rafe obliges and stands up out of his seat. he follows the flight attendant up to the first class area, mumbling a ‘thank you’ as she pointed to his new spot. sitting in the wide, squishy chair, rafe couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief. this whole day was stressing him out, and knowing that they were going to be airborne soon was enough to make his forehead bead with sweat and stomach turn in knots.

he laid his head back against the headrest, closing his eyes, trying to find some sort of comfort.

“good evening ladies & gentlemen,” a female voice was heard through the airplanes speakers. rafe’s eyes shot open at the instant recognition of his girlfriend’s sweet voice. he looked up at the front of the fuselage, his heart nearly stopping as he saw you standing there in your white button down and black slacks, smiling back at him.

“my name is yn and i’ll your first officer today on our flight to houston. our flight should be just under four hours, approximately 3 hours and 47 minutes. the weathers looking sunny and a high of 79 degrees down in houston,” rafe smiled up at you in adoration as he listened to you speak into the black phone on the wall.

near the end of your routine speech you smiled back at rafe, “also, if you’re a nervous flyer, don’t worry. my boyfriend is on this flight so consider him your lucky charm.” the passengers chuckled, a few noticing the way you were smiling at rafe.

with a thank you, you set the phone back on the hook. you walked down the aisle to rafe, giggling when you see the huge grin on his face.

“what the hell i had no idea you were even working today…” rafe exasperated, still in shock. he grabbed your hip, pulling you down into a hug.

“i wanted to surprise you, silly,” your laugh was muffled into his shoulder. you pulled away and planted a kiss on his lips. “wish we could talk more, but i really need to get back to work. gotta keep my baby safe.” you pinched his cheeks playfully, and walked back inside the cockpit, sealing the door shut.

rafe’s smile still hadn’t faded by the time you were lined up on the runway and the engines began roaring. rafe had honestly never felt more safe in his life. the person he trusted the most was the pilot flying his plane. he relaxed into his seat, thinking to himself,

‘maybe i don’t need that xanax in my bag after all.’

#eh this is poopy #rafe cameron smut #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #rafe cameron fluff

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