#and if the way home is doing what an uncaring god asks of him

[a-small-safe-place]

His Haven

Homelander x Psychiatrist!Reader Pt. 1?

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

When Homelander first met you, he just came in because Madelyn cooked up some scheme with Edgar to 'prove' that the members of The Seven were sound of mind and could pass a psychiatric evaluation similar to the one used in the army. Of course, you had been paid a lot of money to do the evaluations and even more money to ensure that these heroes passed no matter what they said. You were a respected psychiatrist in your field; that’s why Madelyn wanted you specifically.

Homelander went to his appointment, planning on leaving until you said something that caught his attention. You said, 'I am here for you. I took this job because you all spend your days helping and saving people, but at the end of the day, who helps and saves you? Obviously, I couldn’t physically save you, but I can be a place for you to talk if you need it. Nothing you say will leave this room.' Boy, did that stroke his ego in all the right ways. He decided to stay. Something about you was comforting, and he wanted to talk, so he started small with the obvious stuff. He led the conversation by making off-handed remarks about being better than everyone and having to be perfect for Vought. It was clear you didn’t understand his pain, but you were listening to him. You were actually listening to him and responding.

You weren’t like Madelyn, who seemed to argue with every other thing he said; you didn’t respond with dismissive and uncaring responses like Queen Maeve, and you could actually keep up with the conversation, unlike The Deep.

Homelander surprised you and himself when he began attending regular scheduled sessions. You usually led the discussion by asking various questions. Some questions he would lie about, not feeling totally safe to dive into certain topics, or he would just dodge the question and change the subject. Homelander knew you noticed this because anytime he did either of those things, your body language would change, and you would write something down in your little notebook. That notebook had made Homelander incredibly nervous until he found out you were not in there calling him a useless pussy. You were just simply writing topics you two had discussed and what topics made him uncomfortable.

You seemed to actually care about Homelander’s feelings, even the bad ones. Stan Edgar put Homelander in his place, and Homelander looked down avoiding Edgar’s pointed gaze like a child being scolded by their father. Homelander needed some reassurance, but he would never admit that willingly. Homelander felt weak and stupid for needing someone, but you didn’t seem to mind even when he was ranting and raving, so he went to you. You had been his haven. The one person he could confide in and actually be himself.

He arrived at your office in the morning while you happened to be filling out some paperwork. He knew you didn’t have any appointments today because this had been previously the day Vought scheduled for the evaluations of the heroes. Homelander spent the whole day pestering you. 'What are we doing now?' He asked, not entirely oblivious to your mild frustration. 'Still just filling out paperwork,' you replied. He rolled his eyes. 'God, your life is so boring. Go to work, talk to the crazies, fill out paperwork and go home, and you do that all alone? I forgot how boring normal people can be.'

You laughed before telling him, 'no one is keeping you here.' Homelander’s jaw tightened. This pissed him off. You’re not supposed to say that. You’re supposed to offer to do something more fun. You seemed to notice that 1,000-yard stare he has as he retreats into his own mind. 'Look, I just mean that I have to finish work. I know it’s probably boring you to death just sitting here; you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,' you told him, which seemed to make him feel a bit better, but he’s not entirely out of his head. 'It’s fine, we can just talk while you work,' he tells you with a feigned smile.

Homelander begins to perk up while you finish your paperwork and finally asks you the million-dollar question, 'What are we doing when we get home?'

'I am going home to cook up some dinner and watch some television,' you told him, trying to hint that you were wanting to be alone. Homelander was undeterred. 'What are we eating? I could use a home-cooked meal. We could watch one of my movies. I’ve been told I’m a great actor.' Homelander needs you to agree and compliment him. He desperately wants you to tell him he does a good job, even if you’re just talking about acting. 'Yeah? Your movies are pretty famous,' you say, accepting your fate that he isn’t leaving you alone tonight.

The night is spent with him at your house. Homelander wastes no time making himself at home and pilfering through your things. He feels comfortable being so ensnared in your scent. He becomes more comfortable as the night carries on. You fix his plate and drink for dinner, and the two of you share a dinner that he perceives as romantic. Your food isn’t as good as the private chefs at Vought, but Homelander loves it because he got to see the love you put into making it just for him.

You two clean up together. It’s really you cleaning, and Homelander helps by talking about which movie of his you should watch tonight. Finally, you try to retire to your room, but he follows. 'I thought we were gonna watch a movie… it doesn’t have to be one of mine,' Homelander tries not to sound too desperate, and he hated to say that last bit.

'I had planned on watching something in my room, but you can come lay with me if you want,' you tell him reluctantly. Homelander is excited but tries to keep that hidden. You two lay down and begin watching one of his movies. By the end, Homelander is 'asleep.' He knows you can’t tell the difference in him and ignores you when you gently shake him trying to wake him. He’s not the biggest fan of sleeping in strange beds, but for you, he can make an exception. Next time, he wants you in his bed though.

[ln4bub]

and i conclude with 36 + lando

(ofc no pressure on any of the asks, feel free to ignore any/all of them if they don’t tickle ur fancy hehe)

It’s winter break and you’ve never been more grateful to have Lando home, except for the fact that all he's done is game with Max.

Every. Single. Night.

First it was Rocket League, and then Counter Strike, and then Tarkov, and now you were sat in the background watching him yell at Fall Guys. Part of you had to admit that it was comical watching him try and fail so many times, but you wanted attention. There was only so much watching you could do, you're just a girl after all. You silently make your way over to Lando's gaming chair, draping yourself over the side to rest your chin on his shoulder. "How much longer will you be baby?" You whisper, lifting his headset slightly so he hears you.

"Like an hour maybe, I'm not sure. Why? Are you hungry? I can order food?" He suggests, eyes flicking briefly from the screen to look at you. "Don't need food." You whine, pouting lightly before placing a gentle kiss to Lando's neck. He swallows thickly, "Babe my friends can all hear, what do you want me to do?" He murmurs, muting himself whilst he waits for the next round. "Want you Lando." You tell him, continuing to press kisses across his neck, travelling along his jaw, feeling it clench with each soft touch of your lips.

"Just let me finish this level and I swear I'll go down on you until you cum at least three times." He tells you, pleading eyes under his glasses. You sigh, "Fine. But I'm holding you to that." He winks up at you before unmuting himself and picking up his controller to play the next round. You lay yourself on the centre of the bed, zoning out on your phone as Lando continues playing. You hear the occasional yell or slam of the controller, nothing unusual when he's gaming. You get lost in the world of Instagram, swiping through Daniel's end of season .jpg post.

You forget about Lando's promise, that is until you feel his warm hands on your thighs. You jump with the touch and he chuckles at you, "Gonna let me fulfil my promise baby?" He whispers, his warm breath tickling the apex of your thighs. Lando smirks when you raise your hips to allow him to remove your pyjama shorts. "Thank you princess." He smiles, kissing your lips before returning to his position between your legs. His lips explore your inner thighs, hands gently prying your legs apart. Soft whimpers escape your lips at the light scratch of his new facial hair.

His lips cover practically every inch of your thighs before his tongue darts out to flick at your entrance, collecting the arousal that's collected there. He starts slow, snaking his tongue through your folds, groaning at the taste of you on his tongue. His tongue swirls around your clit, flicking gently as his hand rests on your pubic bone, keeping your hips still. His lips encase your clit, causing you to moan out as he sucks lightly, his tongue swirling and flicking. He eats you out like a man starved, uncaring about the way your arousal coats his mouth or the way his spit begins to soak you further.

He brings his finger to your entrance, circling it around the pulsing hole before pushing in. Your hips buck as your back arches away from the mattress, Lando moaning against your pussy at the way you clench around his finger. He curls his finger, his tongue working overtime on your clit as he slips a second finger in to join the first.

"Fuck Lando, oh my god." You moan, hand gripping the back of his head, tangling in his curls. He continues his ruthless pace drawing your first orgasm from you unbelievably quickly, but he doesn't stop. He slows his pace, lightly guiding you through your orgasm. Once he feels the pulsing of your walls slow he curls his fingers once more, attacking your g-spot as he sucks your clit back into his mouth. You scream out in overstimulation, your legs shaking as his hand becomes sticky with arousal. His hips begin to rut into the mattress, desperate for an ounce of friction. Your first orgasm hardly fades as the second one barrels into you, your walls clenching Lando's fingers so tight he could swear they would break.

This time he does pull away, encouraged by the way you frantically push at his head. You use your grip on his head to pull his lips to yours, he groans in your mouth at the feeling of your tongue. His groan turns into a whimper as you cup his bulge, massaging gently. He wraps his hand around your wrist, pulling your hand away, causing you to look at him in confusion.

"I said at least three didn't I?" He smirks, kissing his way back down your stomach to finish his meal.

[sehtoast]

Protect Me (Homelander x gn!Reader, Powerswap!au)

homelander!reader x human!John, nightmares, hurt/comfort | Fic Directory

You sob on him.

It’s never happened before and neither of you particularly knows what to do about it. You’ve always been, well, you.  The Homelander is not someone who is breakable.  You’re not some weak kneed baby who can’t hold it together, who can’t swallow all the pain you’ve been put through and resist the urge to choke upon how badly it wants to spew out anyway.

He knows precious little about your life.  You’ve always wanted to keep it that way.  Nothing would hurt you more than to see those beautiful blues of his gazing at you as though you were anything less than who you’d built yourself up to be.  And yeah, sure, you’ve come home to him drenched in blood, no better than a wet dog needing someone to save it from the mess it’s made rolling in the mud– but this? 

You never meant for him to see this. You should've known better than to fall asleep. But you just… you felt so safe with your head on his chest and his heartbeat lulling you. 

You thank whatever pathetic excuse of a god is out there that you didn't blindly lash out at him when he woke you. The worst he got was the threat of glowing eyes that dissipated as soon as you recognized his voice.

But this..? God, there wasn't meant to be choking, sputtering sobs.  No fingers curling into your hair to tug painfully in an attempt to distract from how the void in your chest swallows you whole.  He shouldn’t be witnessing your snotty upper lip or the heaving of your chest.

This isn’t you.

But it is.

You refuse to touch him even as he holds you, cooing in your ear about how it’ll all be fine and that you’re safe with him– all the bullshit.  He is all you have, and you can’t for the fucking life of yourself defile him with your grip, can’t risk hugging him too tight or perhaps snatching away a hand and removing it entirely by accident because you’re so out of control.

You have to take it out on yourself.

He pulls you close, but you can’t do anything more than hide your face in the crook of his neck.

“Talk to me, sweetheart. You can tell me.”  John coos, fingers scritching softly at the nape of your neck.  You can smell the stress response raging inside of his body.  He reacts to your woe as if it were his own.  Cortisol.  Elevated blood pressure and pulse. Shaky breaths. 

You want to shove him away.  

Pity.

But you can’t, so you don’t.  Instead, the dam breaks and out comes everything.  The nightmares, the labs, the scientists, the bad room and the goddamn furnace. 

You could still feel its heat after you woke up gasping, desperately heaving against the unbreathable, scorching air.  Too hot, lungs too dry, skin on fire with not a single mark to show for it.  The way the doctors would crank the dial as they peered in at you like a zoo animal, uncaring no matter how much you screamed.  

Unbothered even when you’d stop.

You’re not even sure your words are coherent.  You’ve wept each one into his neck, still too afraid to peek and find him looking at you differently.  Your nails dig into the skin of your bare arms.

“It’s too– I can’t– I still feel it–” And there's no rhyme or reason for why you do. Not even now, when rehashing it restores that blistering burn beneath your skin that radiates deep into the marrow of your bones, does it make any sense.  You shiver and shake against him.

It’s all you’re good for.

He shifts to the side, fumbling with something on the nightstand, but does not release you.  “Y’feel that?”  John asks.  “Fan’s on now.  Nice and cool, okay?”

The first gusts kiss your back and you practically flinch at the ghostly touches.  It’s a shock to your system and almost burns in its own right, even with his hand trailing up and down your back, fingers smoothing over the curve of your spine, nails lightly dragging in that way he knows you simply adore.

John leans back onto the bed, bringing you with him.  “You’re not there, babe.  I promise.”  He murmurs.  He takes you by the hand, unfurling the grip you’ve got on yourself to press kisses to your knuckles.  “We’re here.  My place.  In bed.”  He tells you, voice as sweet as honey and thick with the remnants of sleep that hadn’t quite been shocked from his system.  “You’re safe.”

He’s said it a million times now.  

“You’re safe and I love you so, so much.”  He rasps through the tightness of his throat, through the little sob that finally breaks through whatever restraints he’d placed on it to make it this far. Knowing that he’s taken it all to heart guts you in the worst way.

John’s legs tangle between yours and pull you close, as if to make sure there wasn’t a single inch of you left unprotected from his embrace.  He holds you even through his own shivers, completely exposed to the chilly breeze after having kicked the covers to the end of the bed.  Anything to draw you away from the illusion of heat, anything to spare you one more moment of agony.

By the time your heart rate simmers down from its erratic thumps and the blistering burn of the furnace is no longer digging beneath your skin, the only sound to be heard is his chattering teeth despite how valiantly he tries to hide his own discomfort.

If he were anyone else, you wouldn’t care at all.  But he’s not just anyone.  He’s not some casual fuck or one of the many who have dangled love over your starved maw.  He’s your Johnny, your greatest love, the kindest man you’ve ever known and the brightest light you’ve ever stumbled upon in this world.  You would topple nations to guarantee his happiness.

He reassures you that he’s fine when you scoff and yank the blankets back up to cover the both of you. 

“No, no, no–” he rattles. “S’fine, I promise.  I don’t want you to–”

You cut him off with a kiss.  You meant only for it to be a single drawn out peck to his lips, but you find that the deeper it becomes, the better you can convey all that you need.

Your love.  Your appreciation.  How fucking much you care.  Everything words fail to deliver.

All while you continue pulling up layer after layer until his lower lip ceases its chilled quivering between yours and his body stills from its shivers.  You don’t untangle yourself from his hold, nor does he move away from yours.  Stranger yet, even with the nightmares still fresh in your mind, the heat you find yourself enveloped by now is far from one that burns.

His flesh against yours, the warmth emanating between you, his heated breaths gasped against your lips– it’s all one big balm that soothes every ache and pain into nothing more than the distant memory it should be.

Neither one of you lets go, not even when sleep settles over your restless minds and pulls you to other worlds.

This time, you dream of him.  Of your Johnny in his cute little sweaters, of how he springs out of his chair at work to throw himself into your arms, of how he comes to your penthouse after his shifts are up just to see you.  You dream of his lips upon your cheek as you dance among the clouds, blue eyes taking you in as if you were the most magnificent sight they’ve ever held.

And when you wake?

Those same oceanic eyes twinkle with a smile that is simply all for you.  They don’t look at you differently.  They don’t judge you or make you feel weak for having told him of your horrors.  True to the nature of his very existence, your Johnny does something so wonderfully special with just one look.

He makes you feel safe.  He makes you feel protected.

He makes you feel loved.

[blurredfloweryblood]

I think people overlook just how complex Bloberta is. Yes, she is not a good mother, she's neglectful and cold and uncaring most of the times, but that's the point. Neither Bloberta or Clay should've had a family, due to their own self hatred. The worst people in all time got married and make it everyone's problem.

Bloberta married out of desperation. Imagine being a middle child that's not even a ghost in her own house. You don't haunt anything because that means that you would be something, but as far as your mother is concerned, there's just you, and piece of furniture in everyone's way, the body in the corner of every family photo.

And your father plays with his fingers and looks down, apologetic, with his mouth shut. He drinks out of a flask, and you're his everything. The liquor eases his throat and his voice is syrupy. You are someone, and your reflection is dim, but your father looks at you, and you're seen, but not known, and thus, you're not loved.

And all your friends have pretty rings on their fingers that they show when they talk, moving their hands. They giggle and gush and raise their voices to octaves, cradling with the palm of their hands their faces with blush on them. You wonder what it feels like. Does love bubble? Is it fluttering in their soul and blood? Does it make you twitch and yearn? How's it like to have a man's attention, with their smirks and eyes, promises made in front of an altar. Someone to have in the palm of your hand. You want to be someone's wife, a shadowy silhouette that comes home, and calls you dear. In your stomach, there's an emptiness, but what else can you do?

There is no world beyond the town. Or at least, no world for you. You're not the smartest, not the prettiest. God made a plan, so he made you for something, right? There's something you can do, something nobody else can do, but you.

And at a wedding, where the bride, in a pompous white dress, kiss her husband and throws her rosey flowers, you don't catch it. You don't know if that means anything, really. You're getting old, and your smile is showing, and you're afraid of never leaving your fucking house. Because that place was never a home. You were never supposed live there.

And the man you meet, he's, well, nice to look at, you guess? I mean, you could live with it. He has a blue suit and a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. You pat down your dress, and clutch your gloved hands when you ask him to go to the reception. Please don't leave. Don't leave because nobody wants me. Nobody else will marry. Maybe that's why, you've been here all your life. Or whatever the fuck it is.

And you sit and talk and he's all awkward and gangly. And that's fine. That's fine, you can work on that. He speaks about reading the bible and your fingers are tapping the table. But he's fine, and you can't go back to that house ringless. You won't go back to that house a failure, nothing. A talentless, out of place, nothing.

You get order drinks. When your father drinks, he's nice, and you feel the warmth of what could be his love. It isn't quite love, but it's as close as you can get. And he drinks, and drinks and drinks. And you want him to stop. Because he turns into this idiot, an imbecilic sack of shit. And you feel your cheeks burn, your fists clench. He's not what you thought he was. He needs to learn. You'll take care of him, he's broken, and you fix things. You could be his wife and fix him, and on the way, it'll fix you too. God made you a little twisted, a little wrong. But it's fixable. It always is.

And you hit him, straight in the face. It knocks him out and leaves an ugly reddish mark. You out his head on your lap and the salon is empty. You look down at him as he opens his eyes and you say: " I'll take care of you." And he nods, and you stay there.

But what are you now? You look up at the ceiling and there's a muffled sound of children and his snoring. The ceiling is cracking and needs to be repainted. There's not a spot of mold in this house because it's the only thing you can fix and shape. Cleanliness is the way to god, the way to holy fixing. Your house and it's white, clean floors sweep your feelings away. Like dust beneath a rug, there are muffled. But they always come back up, creeping up your throat.

You hate him. Repulsive, needy, whining man that cries and moans and will drink himself to death. You hope he does. You hope you both go to sleep and never wake up. Your bodies a testament, of failures in your life. Maybe your mother was right. Maybe God didn't make you to be happy. There's no plan for you, and you make do for a life that's crooked and empty. There's not a home within this walls. And you're a shadow. Just another piece of the furniture on display.

Nobody wants your body, and it has never been touched with love. Maybe you are disgusting, and you two were meant to be. Why not marry him? Why not staying? Where else could you go? When there is nothing for you. Just this town, just this church, just this God.

Just this husband, and children. And a ring on your finger, never shining under the sun.

[honeylullaby]

“I’m a heartless man at worst, babe. And a helpless one at best.”

(Rivals) Rupert Campbell-Black x Reader

Title derived from Candy by Paolo Nutini.

18+ FANFIC. Short work. Reader character aged at 21. / Rupert’s most solemn declaration of his most pure form — love.

Torrential downpour sullied the ground and envoked the rich, earthy aroma that had become so comforting after a particularly painful night attending the latest of Maud's ostentacious balls at The Priory. You had spent the night avoiding disapproving glares from covetous ladies in much too-tight cocktail dresses — providing a grim reminder of all that they want, and all they once were. An empty husk of a magnificent woman — ink black locks of coiffed hair spilling down your back and cherry lipstick applied perfectly enough to hide the ident of your teeth on your lips.

Once exuberant, your all-encompassing pining for Rupert Campbell-Black had stripped you of the glint in your eye, spending many a night beside him in bed, sexually satisified but yearning for a feeling much stronger than the one of him inside you. His chiselled bone structure, the intoxicating fragrance of his aftershave — but more so, his hunger to fulfil your any need and the way his tender touch provided tranquility to the rhythmic thumping in your head.

Now standing briefly under the porch, you sparked a cigarette, the amber glow of the small blaze providing the only light in the garden. You're not an avid smoker but after encountering Sarah Stratton, among a string of others, desparately offer themselves to Rupert, you most definitely deserved one. The back door pushed open, followed by Rupert trailing outside, still chuckling from a passing joke. His jaw instantaneously softened at the sight of you. Thick tears drew cold lines down your blotchy, rouge cheeks and you sniffed noiselessly, taking a small drag of your cigarette with an unsteady hand.

"Oh God, angel. What's wrong?" Rupert questioned, snatching the cigarette from your fingers and taking his own elongated, ravenous drag from it. "Nothing." You lied in response, stepping backwards from the porch and onto the appallingly paved pathway. The wintery raindrops saturated your ivory linen dress and trasformed your mascara into inky tears. "What are you doing? You are getting soaked, don't be ridiculous." Rupert spat, reaching out to grab your arm that you promptly moved out of his grasp.

"How long will you do this to me for?" You ask, tilting your head upwards and allowing him to perceive the utter despair scrawled over your face — now silky with thick, melting makeup. Rupert looked down at his shoes, now finding his tan leather brogues particularly interesting. It's not that he didn't want to answer you, it was that he couldn't. "Darling.." He began, but you raised your hand to silence whatever falsity was about to leave his lips.

"Actually, don't. Wooing those floozies and undressing them with your eyes. Practically fucking them on the spot, then going home and begging me to come over." Your rant was only interrupted by pauses for breath and ebullitions of tears. "Angel..." Rupert muttered, stepping slowly away from the porch and standing afore you on the pathway, rain forthwith drenching his crisp turquoise shirt, fabric clinging desperately to his muscled chest.

"Everybody thinks I'm a total cunt. Vain, uncaring and incapable of doing anything except fucking. Of course, they can see right through me but, for some reason, you can't. You see somebody that you love, for whatever reason. And it fucking terrifies me." He admits, cerulean eyes unwavering in contact from yours, moving your hand to the drenched cloth of his chest. His heart was pulsating in a way that made the breath catch in your throat.

"It terrifies you, so you pretend it doesn't exist?" You question, mouth agape in anticipation and sodden feet inching towards him. "I have never loved another. I'd go as far as to say I have never cared for anybody but myself. But, ever since we met, I’ve felt strange. I love you, angel. I think that's all that I am. All that I can be." His impassioned monologue ends. The empty, pitting feeling in your stomach releases itself.

Snaking one hand around your waist and one around your shoulder, Rupert draws you in for a intimate kiss — both exhaling in blessed relief, the perfect conclusion to many weeks of doubt. It was exactly what you needed to hear. "Rupert..." You breathlessly moan, but another kiss steals the utterance from your lips. "My sweet angel, I love you." Rupert admits again, shoulders rolling back.

For such a callous man with a brutally heartless attitude, he became helpless under your touch. Too well intertwined — he was yours.

“I was perched outside in the pouring rain, trying to make myself a sail. Then I’ll float to you, my darling, with the evening on my tail.” - Candy.

[s1m0nth3swag]

Kinktober 2024 - Gun Kink with Leon S. Kennedy

Hello hi its a little late but here's week 2 of kinktober

This one is slightly self indulgent because I love hot men with guns :)

If you like my writing and wanna support me a little, please visit my Ko-Fi! Thanks in advance <3

WARNINGS/ CONTENT INFO: NSFW, guns, slight degrading, Leon's not actually into Guns just the reader, GN!Reader

Sometimes, Leon hated his job. Actually, most times. He really hated it. Not only because of the everyday potential to literally die, but because the missions kept him away from home for so long. He used to be okay with that, it didn't matter to him, he used to not have anything that kept him at home - unless one counted his comfy bed. By now, he had you. The two of you had met a year or two after he started working for the DSO, and at first Leon really didn't want to get close to you. You were so sweet to him, so pure, he knew he would ruin you if he got too close. You on the other hand couldn't help but get closer. In your defence, Leon looked like a sad puppy whenever you saw him, and you just felt the need to help him out. Very much ‘I can fix him’ fashion. You had snaked your way into his heart, slowly but surely invaded his mind, until he just had to ask you out. Now you two were going on two years, had moved in with each other and even adopted a puppy. Every time he went on a mission, all he could think about was wanting to get back to you safe and in one piece, every time he got hurt he prayed to God it wouldn't leave an ugly scar - even though the ones he did have were cherished by you. You said they reminded you of the fact that he did come back, and that he would continue to do so.

Today, luckily, he only had to go into the office for some paperwork. Didn't mean he didn't at least dislike it, though. He wanted to spend his time cuddled up with you, pressing his lips against every piece of skin he could reach. The thought alone made him sigh. It was already so late, he bet you were cuddled up on the couch with your dog, watching whatever was on TV while waiting for him to come back. At least his salary allowed you an easy life. His day honestly kept dragging on, at least until his phone buzzed with a notification from you.

‘I got us something so we can try smth new :)’ it read, and Leon was quite puzzled. ‘What do you mean?’ He texts back, only to be left on read by you. Jesus, you and your weird ideas. Still, he can't help but work a little faster, uncaring if he suddenly works sloppy.

It's not that late as he steps back into your shared apartment, sighing heavily as he rids himself of his jacket, hanging it to the other ones before throwing off his shoes. He calls out for you, your puppy already tapping over to him to receive some cuddles. He picks up the small canine, making his way through the apartment to find you. At last, he arrives in the bedroom, seeing you sit at the edge of the bed, a literal gun in your hands.

“Whoa, easy there darling, what's that for?” Leon says, his voice laced with shock. He was always under the presumption that you were the last person to need a gun, especially since you had him for protection. “Don't be like that, it's a fake.” You huff, a grin on your lips as you look over at him, eyes practically sparkling. “Cool, isn't it?” You add, holding it out to him. Leon lets the small puppy down, stepping towards you so he could take the gun. He examines it for a moment, and now that he can see it up close, with his trained eyes, it's clear it's fake. He shakes his head slightly. “Still didn't answer what's it for.” He grumbles. “Us, duh. I figured it'd be… I dunno, intriguing.” You answer, one of your hands coming up to tug Leon closer by a belt loop. “...In the bedroom?” Leon clarifies, raising a brow once you nod. “Jesus you're crazy. You don't actually want me to point a gun at you? Or the other way around?” He scowls, clearly not into the idea. “No, no not like that.” You sigh. “More like… the thrill of a gun being involved. Plus you kinda… well you look hot handling them.” your voice is barely above a soft whisper at that point. It's embarrassing how attractive you think he is, even when just barely holding a prop gun. A little pathetic, to be honest.

“So… more like this?” Leon questions, using the barrel to tilt your chin up slightly. Your cheeks flush at the coldness of the metal, and the action alone makes your knees go weak. You're glad you're sitting down, but Leon notices nonetheless. After so long, he can basically read every single of your slightest movements. “You're actually into this.” He states with slight disbelief, trailing the gun down your throat. Your breath catches as you keep your gaze firmly on him. “Jesus…” Leon mutters, stepping to stand in front of you properly. He really isn't sure what to think of this, he's happy to give you your pleasure, but he still doesn't like the whole thing of desensitising you to him holding a literal weapon, no matter if this one is fake. Nonetheless, the look you give him is enough for him to continue. You want this, badly at that, and who is he to not give it to you?

Moments later Leon's got you laid over the bed, puppy thrown out and door locked for double measure. He's already rid you of your clothing, tracing the cold metal of the gun down your chest and abdomen. He's lazy with it, sometimes tracing lines, sometimes slight patterns, though with no particular motive other than watching you squirm. You don't want to beg just yet, you already feel pathetic enough like this, you don't need to give him the extra achievement of making you beg within minutes. So, Leon just does whatever, never getting close to where you so desperately want him to be. He lets the muzzle grace your thighs once, you whine at the sensation before he chuckles into your ear, retreating the gun back to your chest. “Lee…” you mutter with a soft pout, giving in. “please… just fuck me, yeah..? I've been good…” you hum, turning your head to press soft kisses against his jawline. “Just waited for you to ask, love.” Leon responds, ever so slowly tracing the gun down your body in a straight line. “You're so mean sometimes..” you grumble as he casually angles one of your legs to have better access.

You almost yelp as the metal glides against your entrance, teasing ever so slightly. “Leon..!” You huff, trying to shoot your boyfriend a glare, though your brain quickly focuses back on the feeling of the gun as Leon pushes it inside softly. “Taking it so well, aren't you?” He grins, pressing a kiss against your cheek as he slowly pushes it in fully, until the trigger guard also presses against your skin. You whine slightly, the metal quickly heating up from being inside you, still, the coldness from the start lingers in your mind. Leon rocks the gun into you for a while, watching your reactions in amusement. Usually, he'd enjoy watching you come undone on his dick, but honestly, this wasn't half bad either. You're awfully turned on by this whole situation, and Leon can't help but feel a little bit hungry about it. If he had known you get this turned on by guns, of all things, he would have brought some if his home to clean sometimes. “Such a slut, aren't you?” He teases, nipping at the skin of your neck slightly. You clench around the gun, your orgasm approaching faster than you'd like to admit. Leon reads all your little signs, trailing his free hand over your side in a featherlight touch, before gripping your hip, tugging you against him a bit more, pushing the gun a little more harshly, letting it rest inside for a moment. Meanwhile, his other hand trails to your core, working on it swiftly, with practiced movement that makes you see stars. You seriously can't help but cum, all of this was just too much for you in the best way possible. Leon huffs, pulling the gun out of you. “Made such a mess, baby.” He mumbles, placing kisses against your neck. “Don't think we need this thing for the next round, though.” He grins, casually throwing the gun on the ground before letting you catch your breath for round two.

[moodymisty]

Hi, im the anon who wrote that Lorgar ask. And while I did write that ask with the intention of making more people imagine Lorgar being a dad to a very small child. It was also me rerouting the concept to imagine a (very obviously heretical by now) Lorgar being a dad to a very small child.

Because you’ve seen what he’s like during the heresy. You know what kind of bizarre “ritual sacrifice of entire worlds” stuff he’s up to during that time. So wouldn’t it be fucked up to finally return to your husband, thinking that nothing bad will happen to you or your family ever again, only to watch as your husband slowly transforms into that? You went from forcibly spending all your waking hours around an egotistical ruler who couldnt give two shits whether you lived or died, to spending all your waking hours around your unhinged cult leader husband who adores you to an unhealthy extent.

Years ago, when you were just starting out your relationship with Lorgar, you were afraid that he was putting you on a pedestal. And you were so frightened by the possibility that one day you were going to fall from it. But now you know how foolish you were. He didn’t put you on a pedestal, he chained you to it. You are his lover, his wife, the mother of his child; and he will worship you until the day he dies, and he will never let you go. When he walks into your shared room and holds you at night he whispers prayers to the gods, and then to you. His hands are clean and yet they smell of blood, his eyes glow with an unnatural light, there’s something horribly wrong with him and yet…

Is that not what you wanted?

Didn’t you ask to go back home to your husband?

Because you’re home now. And you’re not leaving.

ohhhhh i like this take, that maybe being with the Emperor was actually the BETTER choice???? That with Lorgar having lost himself in this chaos worship that the Emperor in all his uncaring coldness might have being trying to, in some way, protect you? If even just tangentially? And now you start thinking about wanting to return to him??? That you wished perhaps that you hadn't pleaded to return to Colchis, and instead stayed on Terra? Because Lorgar is losing it and now you're watching him melt down slowly, but you can't do anything about it and he's treating your child like a little demigod and as much as he loves your child, there is clearly SOMETHING wrong

This is interesting I like this a lot

[your-averagewriter]

hi! Would mind writing a part two to your young!Haymitch x reader? Maybe with both of them winning and just developing a relationship through the aftermath.

Summary: Haymitch and (y/n) struggle to adjust after getting out of the Games together but find comfort in each other.

Word count: 1.7K

Warnings: Kissing, swearing, mention of gore (a little at the start, not really though).

-

-

“Are you ready to go home?” Haymitch asks, snapping me out of my frozen state, staring out of the window of the train.

I turn to look at him, seeing the empty train cart, unable to stop seeing the two other tributes from our district, they came with us and now we’re leaving without them. Their bodies lie on the floor and are draped across the table, forcing me to see their mutilated states.

“I’m gonna throw up.” I say after a second, standing up and hurrying to the bathroom on the train cart, my hand covering my mouth.

“(y/n)?” I hear before I fall to my knees in front of the toilet, throwing up into the bowl, gripping the sides to stabilise myself. Haymitch pulls my hair out of the way and rests his other hand on my shoulder. “What’s wrong?” He asks during a break in throwing up.

I lean back, sitting on the back of my feet as I look back to face Haymitch, wiping my face with one of the towels provided.

“I’m just not feeling very well.” I say, standing up slowly and walking back out to the main section of the train cart once I’m sure I’m done throwing up.

“Come on, (y/n), what’s wrong? We both know that’s not it.” He says as we sit down by the window again, I turn to look out the window, staring at the scenery despite the train not moving yet.

“They’re not here.” I say quietly.

“Who’s not here? Do you want me to get the escort lady or shitty mentor guy?” He raises an eyebrow, clearly confused.

“The other two tributes from 12.” I say. “They came but they’re not leaving. They won’t ever leave.” I mumble, resting my head on my hand, wiping away a tear by my eye.

“Don’t think about them.” He says gruffly and I’m slightly appalled by his uncaring statement towards dead children.

“Don’t think about them? Are you telling me you don’t feel bad about any of it, sad, guilty, anything?” I ask, my voice is louder as I get more upset.

“No, I don’t.” He pauses as I stare at him confused and disappointed. “Because if it didn’t happen then you wouldn’t be here and neither would I.”

His response shocks me. “What?” I ask quietly.

“You’re alive, I’m alive, that’s all I care about at the moment and so should you.” He says more softly, opening his arms and offering me a much needed hug.

Shuffling towards him, I wrap my arms around him, resting my head on his chest.

“Let’s just think about getting home first and all the fancy food we can eat on this train.” I chuckle at the end of his sentence and it’s clear he’s trying to distract me. He places a kiss to the top of my head before standing up, taking my hand and leading me after him.

“Come on, let’s cost them some money.” I chuckle again, standing up with him and wiping a final tear from my cheek as we walk to the food carts.

Walking into the next heart lays a table full of fancy food and colourful drinks.

“Oh my god they have whipped cream.” I smile as I quickly sit at the table, Haymitch not far behind, chuckling at my newfound excitement. “I’ve only had whipped cream like…” I pause thinking. “Once.” I reach for one of the deserts covered in whipped cream, placing it in front of me and swiping some of the cream with my finger, lifting it to my mouth and tentatively tasting it. “You need to try it.” I smile, reaching for one of the spoons and scooping a bit and feeding it to Haymitch.

“That is good.” He says smirking.

I turn back to the table, seeing a bowl of strawberries and liquid chocolate to dip them in whilst Haymich grabs his own food.

Dipping a strawberry in chocolate, I taste the delicious combination, making a bit of a mess with the chocolate but enjoying it nonetheless.

“You’ve made it a bit of a mess with that chocolate, it’s all over your lips.” He says and quickly moves towards me pressing his lips against mine, cleaning the chocolate with a satisfied hum. “Delicious.” He pulls back, smirking at my flustered state.

“You caught me off guard, don’t look too proud.” I huff, biting into another strawberry.

-----------

The train pulls up to the station and I’m instantly jumping up from my chair to get to the door, not expecting the crowd that appears in front of me when the door opens.

“Mum?” I ask quietly, my voice being drowned out as I search over the crowd, looking for her.

Haymitch appears behind me after a moment and is blinded by the bright light of the sun and deafened by the sounds of the crowds.

“Fucking hell.” He groans as I look over the crowd, still looking until I see her waving, kept back  by the crowd a little while away.

“Mum? Mum!” I shout as I disappear into the crowd, avoiding the questions as I dart past people and into my mum’s open arms. Upon closer inspection I can see the tears that stain her cheeks and the weight she’s lost whilst I was gone, I imagine she can feel the same has happened to me.

After reuniting with my mother, she heads home to pack herself, ready for us to move into Victors’ Village. Some of the crowds have dissipated so I look around for Haymitch, wondering where he went, knowing he’s not the biggest fan of crowds.

“Haymitch?” I cup my hands around my mouth calling his name whilst looking around. “Haymitch?” I wander around before seeing him leaning back against a tree, eating an apple from the train. “Haymitch.” I smile, walking over to him. “You okay?” I ask softly, sitting next to him and resting my head on his shoulder. “I know you don’t like the crowds.”

“What’s there to like? No one’s even waiting for me.” He grunts out.

“Your dad didn’t come?” I ask gently, knowing his dad is a sore subject as he’s always been a little absent in Haymitch’s life. Actually, him not turning up to meet Haymitch is quite in character for him but Haymitch just shakes his head. “I’m sorry.” I say quietly.

“‘S not your fault.” He mumbles fiddling with a small blade from the train, cutting off bits of an apple.

“They gave me a house, a real fancy one in the village down there.” I point. “You’ve got one too, we can move in when we want.” I try to lighten the mood. “Do you wanna check it out?” I offer with a small smile, trying to distract him a little.

“Fancy houses? Like rewards?” I shrug.

“I guess so.” He chuckles darkly. 

“That sounds about right from the President.” I nod and we both stand up, walking to the village.

Feeling the cold nipping at my skin I walk close beside Haymitch, reaching for his hand in an attempt to warm myself up.

“There’s like ten houses here, which ones do we get?” He asks, looking around.

“These closest ones have name plaques on them.” I say, leading him to one of the houses and seeing my name engraved on a gold plaque. “I guess this is mine.” I quirk a small smile, excited as the door clicks open and we walk in.

It’s silent except the sound of creaking floorboards under our feet as we explore the house, hand in hand still. 

“This house is massive.” I say in awe as we walk around, inspecting the rooms. “There’s like a million rooms.” I chuckle excitedly as he follows me around, entertaining my exploration with a small smile. “Do you think your house is built differently?” 

“I don’t know, love but I’m sure you’re gonna take me to look in a minute.” I nod, a telling smile on my face as we both know it’s true.

“You know,” I pause. “You could stay with us.” I say, turning to face him as we walk down the stairs.

He quirks an eyebrow, looking slightly confused.

“If you didn’t want to stay with your dad, I mean there’s plenty of space in this house, so many bedrooms!” I chuckle. “You don’t have to, but the offer’s there.” I smile softly.

“No, I’d like that.” He says, a smile emerging on his face. “Sounds real nice. It’d do us both some good.” He says and I look at him confused.

“Your nightmares, I know you don’t think I know about ‘em.” He says as I react a little shocked.

“So you’ll help with my nightmares and I’ll help with your antisocial tendencies?”

“Antisocial tendencies?” He scoffs.

“Your habit of ignoring and avoiding people.” I point out and he is forced to conceive. “You won’t be able to ignore me if we live in the same house.” I chuckle.

“Are you trapping me? This sounds like kidnapping…” He jokes.

“It’s not kidnapping because you want to be with me.” I point out with a smirk as we walk into the kitchen, still looking around.

“Goddamn right I wanna be with you.” He says, lifting me up in the air, causing me to shriek slightly in surprise before he presses his lips against mine.

He places me back down on the ground but doesn’t pull his lips away from mine, instead wrapping his arms around my waist leaving my hands free to reach around his neck, pulling him closer to me. 

He pushes his lips against mine, harsh but not too harsh, pouring all the pent up emotions from the last few weeks into the kiss, the passion and fears combined. My fingers tangle in the threads of his hair, the soft curls situated on the back of his head.

“(y/n)!” I hear my mum shout through the house before walking in the door, not giving us time to separate or jump apart before she appears with a few bags in hand. “Oh, I’m sorry.” She says, looking a little embarrassed although not as much as us. “I’ll leave. It was nice to meet you, Haymitch.” She says quietly before walking out the door.

Once I hear the door close, signalling she’s walked out the house, I bury my head in Haymitch’s chest, cheeks burning as he chuckles lowly.

“Your mother seems nice.” He jokes and I groan only causing him to laugh more.

-

AN: I hope you enjoyed reading!

Sorry I'm taking a while to get through requests!

I have rewritten this part two at least four times, I'm glad I've finally got a better version to post.

[vidalinav]

Part 2 of the Nesta gets sick, acofas re-write thing

This is not my best work honestly. It's more of my quick writing. But you know what? It is what it is. Not everything can be a masterpiece and I should post things even when I don't think it's perfect. Keeps me humble and keeps me brave. This was a pep talk for me.

Part 1

~

The icy wind scars his face, but it's a small form of torture. Her name sits on his tongue, but he has yet to see if the mountains will hear him or if the people of Velaris will point the way.

Which tavern? Which music hall? Which book store? Which person's bedroom will he find her in?

How drunk will she be?

Cassian wishes he was drunk right now, but...

Has he ever been sober since he's seen her face?

Cassian sees her and the words spill out his mouth. Nothing honest--no. If he were telling the truth, he'd have sunk to his knees. Human, fae, or... death.

She breathed life back into him.

Now Nesta's being haunted by her thoughts, drinking them away, so they may be silenced, so the ice on his face--the piercing slice of winter, is a small price to pay. A small sacrifice. A small revenge for he deserves more than this.

"Nesta!" he yells, but Cassian's sure the wind swallows his call, howling like a wolf to the moon.

Cassian doesn't like the thought of her traveling in this. The city is bright, but he's unsurprised that many of the businesses are closed. It is a holiday after all. Thankfully, the taverns are alight with patrons and noise. He's almost glad it's open if only to offer Nesta reprieve.

Because she isn't at home when he knocks on her door. He can't sense her at all. Cauldron knows her apartment must not have good heating, or at least the door felt as cold as ice. Quiet and mocking. For that alone, Cassian's sure she'd be somewhere here.

So which tavern will it be?

He clenches his fist, but he tells himself it's to warm them and not because the thought of her uncared for goads on his nerves. Not because the thought of her cared for in another's bed makes him want to gut someone brutally.

"We haven't seen her, my lord," the barkeeper says.

"Cassian," he quickly corrects, though he knows none of the workers will do as he asks, formality running heavy throughout town.

"We haven't seen her in a couple of days actually," a younger fae, who offers to pour him a drink, notes. "She usually sits right over there, nearest to the musicians. They've been traveling, you see, so perhaps she's tried another tavern."

"We hope she comes back, my lord. Our high lady's sister is always welcome."

Cassian is sure she is, since he's seen the bills collected on her behalf. "Do you know where she might be?"

The barkeeper shrugs, "maybe Blue Mill? Have you tried the Wolf's den?"

"She's not there," he says, though Cassian offers his thanks and moves on to another tavern down the way, much tamer than the last.

Nesta's not at that one either. The snow sprinkles down and it packs the ground in deep white. He can feel it in his boots.

Where can Nesta be?

Perhaps, he should have told Azriel to send his shadows, but he does what he knows, so he shoots to the sky, not bothering to think about how much his wings will ache from this weather.

He doesn't know how long he searches, before something starts eating at his gut. Something pokes and prods at his chest. Something is not right.

Something is terribly wrong, and it is not this storm or the sting against his wings. It's not the fact that the city sings even from above, as if nothing but him can sense this.

Nesta is nowhere in sight.

She's not at the bridge, the taverns, the trail to her house, the walk to the bookstores, along the Sidra. There is nothing that says that Nesta lives here, all he sees is white.

White is the color of death, he finds, and something morbid calls him forth.

Nesta. Nesta. Nesta.

He thinks the wind calls her name, an echo of his voice. A chant. Cassian thinks of death gods. Of monsters. Of villainous people.

What is happening to her?

Why can't he find her?

Cassian circles the mountain, pulling at his hair.

There.

A scarf circles around a lamp post and it looks like the one Elain gifts to Nesta for her birthday last spring. Light blue and waving hello, come find me, I need you. When he grasps it, Cassian can catch the slightest whiff of her scent.

"Nesta," he calls, peering at the space as if she'll come out of hiding. He sees piles of snow, no footprints in sight. All he can smell is wind and winter and cold. "Nesta!"

He finds a shroud near the stairs, her head lying against the stone. Touches of brass and pale skin. Snow has already begun to pile on her body. A blanket of white. A funeral.

"Nesta," he gasps. "Nesta. Nesta!"

She is so perfectly silent, it fills him with dread.

"Talk to me, Nesta," he demands as he grasps her shoulders, and then her hands, blowing into them as if that my warm her from the inside out.

Her cheeks are a budding pink and her lips are tinged in blue. Cassian thinks of death, corpses, and pale flesh. He can't help it. Nesta lays so still, he wants to throw up.

Her heart beat is faint, but Cassian thinks it might just be the wind drowning out any noise. At least he keeps repeating that to himself, because pulling out his own won't help hers beat louder or stronger.

"I'm going to take you to the house," he says, though she doesn't make a sound. Nesta's head lulls into his neck as he holds her to his chest. Cassian's surprised to find a touch of warmth at her skin and for that he sends a thousand thanks to the Mother.

"I've got you Nesta," he says, kissing at the top of her head without thinking. "I've got you."

I'm never leaving you alone, again.

~

You see I have a very good memory, so I had this book series memorized like the back of my mind. But then I went into a PhD program, and brain dumped it all. SO I cannot remember some details or at least I can't remember which things happened in what book... just like SJM ( LOL ). So if this is not bookly accurate, just ignore it. Nothing about this is bookly accurate anyway.

Also this is hella dramatic. I should have really just started off with... he found her with no explanation... which is what I usually do. But I tried to give explanation. And... it's dramatic. But whateva.

You'll see her actually sick in the next part.

[staawberru]

my childhood friend wrote a gay omegaverse faction about me! Chapter 3

a/n wish my editor well they where vary scared editing this chapter

chapter one | next chapter | last chapter | masterlist

Jobie pov

    The date is going horribly. Kendyl and I are sitting inside of this cute cafe waiting for our food. You’d think on a date you’d want to talk to the person you're with, hold hands, kiss even. Not like anyone would want to kiss that animal. But now me and Kendyl are sitting awkwardly. That’s not important right now though, you didn’t say anything about Kendyl, you didn’t scream or yell or even get mad! What a joke. I mean, would you at least be a little jealous? I kissed him for god sake! the thought of your childhood friend getting in a relationship would anger you, shouldn’t it? And that girl! She dared talk to what’s mine! Ugh this is sickening! I need to go home, chill by myself, and wash my mouth. Like ew, I’d think kissing this dog multiple times would help me get used to it, but no, unfortunately, honestly it’s getting worse. I glared at Kendyl. He was back to scrolling on his phone, uncaring. He was such a useless person, and he doesn’t even care about me, he doesn’t love me. The only thing that’s important about me is that I’ll help get what he wants. The reason he asked me to date him was just to piss off his parents, and after the whole thing blows over, he’s just going to push me away. It doesn’t bother me though. I'm using him too, to get you. He doesn’t matter, it's you, you're the important one, you're the one who matters, you're the one that cares about me… in your own weird way. You may not like to say anything to me, or be around me, but I know you care for me. I know it. You wanted to tell me something earlier, you probably wanted to apologize or tell me you love me, and the way you got all close, and you even blushed! I mean, you wouldn’t do that to someone you hate, you just don’t! That has to be proof of your love. Can we talk about your face when I grabbed your arm, I mean you were totally terrified! You just didn’t show it fully, but I’ll make you show it. Oh to have you under my grasp, to make you the one all weak, the one to shuffle in embarrassed under me. It sounds like heaven, but that heaven is far. Not impossible though.

  I look at my phone and I see my new obsession update “ways on how to catch a darling”. It was a semi popular manhwa made recently. The whole plot was about this young guy stalking his crush to the point that they kill themselves and the guy decides to write a story, and it’s the story you're reading. It was so interesting the emotions were perfect and it honestly reminded me of you. The way the darling was all confident and proud and at the slightest inconvenience they crumbled. Now I’m not crazy, I don't want you to die. Just to listen to my every command, is it that hard? 

   “So why were you hanging out with him?” Kendyl asks as he takes a sip of his drink. I glare at him. He has no right to talk about you, especially in such a demeaning way. 

   “He’s my friend,” I say. There is no way I’m letting this animal talk about you badly, you’re too precious. Kendyl chuckles and shakes his hand.

    “I saw the way he looked at us, just like my parents.” Kendyl says, so clearly amused. I frown. I know you're homophobic but hearing it out loud made it worse for whatever reason, but I know that one day you’ll accept me, accept us.

   “I know,” my response was short and direct. I was done talking about you to that animal. He doesn’t deserve to say your name, or talk about you, or even think about you. I scowl. I'm sick of looking at his face.

   “Hey, this reminds me of this one movie I watched,” Usually I ignore him when he starts talking about his pornos, but he says something that catches my attention. “This guy is all tough and whatever and he's all football and shit.” Kendyl used air quotes to make his point. “Anyway, he has this girlfriend who likes totally the dumb blond type and then one day she was murdered ooOOOo,” he said sarcastically. “Anywho, turns out this twink killed her because he was jealous and wanted the jock guy all to himself. And the twink totally fucked the shit out of the jock.” he laughs. “I mean it’s funny this small guy manhandled a 6 '5 beast.” Kendyl laughs harder. “And like-,” I stopped listening there. I didn’t want to listen to him rant anymore then I had to, but something he said intrigued me. Well multiple things, first the jock sounded just like you and the blond bitch seems a lot like the purple haired girl I saw texting you earlier. And the twink, I hate to sound like Kendyl but a small guy like that killing someone sounds funny. I mean imagine me killing somebody, me! Imagine me killing Kendyl or that freak texting you or maybe even my sister, I saw the way you ogle her. God to be the one who you stare at like that. Oh I wonder if you would be scared of me then. Of course you would! I can be the one to manhandle you, be the one to bend you over to see the tears run down your cheeks, it would be just perfect! But I know it would never happen. Well, maybe in a fanfiction or story. Maybe I can live out my dreams in a fanfiction, a yaoi omegaverse fanfic! Omegaverse has always been my favorite. But it can just be about me and you, well maybe I can add Kendyl so I can kill him off, and maybe that purple haired bitch, but make her a guy. I don’t even want to write about her, so maybe making her a guy will make it slightly better, same with my sister. 

   “I have to go,” I say, not willing to hear Kendyl’s voice anymore. 

   “Huh? What about the food?” He asked. I glared but gave him ten bucks to pay for it. Not wasting another second, I rush home and start to write. I’m no longer going to be the sweet innocent little Jobie anymore, I’m no longer going to be the Jobie who freaks out when you swear, I’m no longer the Jobie who follows you around like a loser, and I’m no longer the Jobie you can push around. I will be the Jobie who you look up to, the Jobie who saves you from this horrible place, these horrible people. I might not be able to in the real world, but in this book I’m going to write I will be.

[broodybuck]

Shameful Dreams | Series Part 4

Series Summary: Steve and Bucky are each respectfully married to their wives, as any man should be in 1941. And yet, that doesn't stop Steve from having very shameful dreams about his married friend. Unexpectedly, things begin to happen outside of Steve's fantasies.

Series Tags: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes | Rated E | Tags: 18+ explicit smut, no powers au, pre-serum Steve, top Bucky, bottom Steve, secret relationship, internalized homophobia, consensual infidelity, closeted characters

[Masterpost] // [ao3 link]

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3]

Steve has experimented before. He knows how it feels to put a finger in his ass. But he stopped a while back, too ashamed of what he was doing.

It's odd how being with Bucky supplies equal parts shame and exhilaration. In some ways, Steve's become so uncaring about everything he used to worry about before. Currently, all he cares about is prepping for Bucky.

Bucky doesn't know what Steve's doing at home. But the thought of him finding out delights Steve in so many ways. He can picture the moment. Bucky's eyes will go wide, his pupils will dilate, and his whole body will tense at Steve's admission.

Steve continues to diligently work at fitting three fingers in his hole. To be honest, it's hard to find the time. The shower is one of the only times he has privacy away from Peggy. She starts to notice his showers racking up in minutes. She's begun teasing him about his longer showers, and Steve goes all red whenever she does. But not for the reasons she thinks.

Bucky is his deep, dark secret now.

While Steve preps himself, he has no idea when he and Bucky are going to fuck. They don't talk about it. Nights in the outhouse stay mostly the same with the addition of oral. They don't always blow each other because some nights they're kissing too much, get impatient, and just use their hands.

He deepthroated Bucky for the first time a few nights ago, and when Bucky told him he was getting so good at it, Steve preened over the praise all night. If Bucky is impressed by how much Steve can fit in his mouth, Steve can't wait to show him how much he can fit in his ass.

The way it happens is, Peggy makes a plan to visit her mother and doesn't ask Steve to join. He doesn't have paid leave anyhow.

The funny thing is, Steve doesn't even realize this is their opportunity. He's not thinking, he's set on the docks, meeting at the outhouse like always. But on the first Monday Peggy is away, Steve walks out to find Bucky waiting in the parking lot of his job. He's leaning against the side of his car looking all kinds of smooth.

Steve walks over to him, keeping an overt distance when he halts.

"Heard Peggy is visiting her mother," Bucky says.

"Yeah."

"So you got the house to yourself?"

That's when it occurs to Steve that, for the first time, they don't have to use the outhouse. And oh god, he's filled with too much excitement at once he almost gets dizzy.

"Meet you at home?" Bucky asks.

And that makes everything rush inside of Steve. It's the way he calls it home, letting Steve imagine it's theirs. That they have a real life together and aren't sneaking around. As if they don't have wives to cheat on.

Steve should feel bad about using the bed. It isn't just his, it's Peggy's too. It's where they make love.

But it's also the first time he's ever been allowed to make love to Bucky. And it is making love because they finally have a bedroom all to themselves. Truth be told, it feels like his wedding night all over again.

They're going to fuck, Steve is sure of this. Mainly because he'd die if they didn't. And he knows Bucky wants it just as much as him.

Still, it's sweet how shy Bucky is when they first walk into the room.

"Stevie," Bucky prompts.

"Yeah?"

"I know this is asking a lot but I was hoping you'd let me fuck you."

Steve bites back a smile.

"Let you? I've been prepping all week."

And there it is. The look, the one Steve was waiting for, the one he saw a glimpse of in the outhouse. Bucky's especially beautiful when he's overcome with lust.

They crash into each other, lips first. They're clawing at each other's clothes, already rubbing their hips together.

"I still need... time to..." Steve pants between desperate kisses.

"I know," Bucky says and pulls away trying to calm himself. "Let me help."

Steve has to admit, in all his fantasies and all his wildly inappropriate dreams about Bucky, he never pictured this part. Steve on his marital bed with his legs spread wide while Bucky opens him up with fingers coated in vaseline.

It's even better with Bucky's hand — everything is. And Steve has to stop himself from coming so many times. He resorts to pleading with Bucky that he's ready more than once but Bucky keeps telling him no. He's scared of hurting him and it would be sweet if Steve wasn't about to burst at the seams, his balls are so tight, he's clenching every muscle to stop himself from exploding.

Finally, Bucky decides he's ready and Steve breathes a huge sigh of relief. He relaxes momentarily while he watches Bucky slick up his cock and moves between his legs.

It's slow, painstakingly slow. Even with all the prep and vaseline, Steve still feels pressure when the head of Bucky's cock breaches his hole. His face must tense because Bucky stops with the tip in.

"You okay?" he asks.

Steve nods. "Keep going."

Bucky pushes in a little further, then stops again. He exhales shakily.

"Shit, Steve. You're so tight. I don't get it. I spent forever opening you up."

"You're too big, baby," Steve drawls and gets one of those deliciously heated looks from Bucky. "Keep going."

Bucky pushes in again, he's halfway now.

"Fuck," Bucky mutters right as his hips jolt and he thrusts forward, bottoming out in one push.

Steve groans, gripping Bucky's forearms aggressively.

"Shit, sorry. You okay?" Bucky pants.

"I'm good, good," Steve stammers, his eyes squeeze shut.

It's overwhelming, not just the feeling of Bucky's cock stretching him wide but the realization that he's finally inside of him.

Bucky leans down and kisses him, Steve's eyes flutter open. Steve nods again, urging him on. Bucky pulls back, pushes forward again. He slides in and out about three times before he slumps over Steve's chest and moans. A true, beautiful moan — nothing like Steve's ever heard before. He grabs his cock and comes easily too.

They don't move for a minute.

"Fuck, sorry — that was shit," Bucky apologizes.

Steve frames his face, pulls him down for another kiss.

"This is amazing," Steve says.

Bucky's mouth quirks into a smile. "I swear I usually last longer."

Steve laughs and kisses him again. "Me too."

"You feel too good," Bucky breathes. "It's nothing like..."

He stops abruptly and Steve knows he was about to mention Gail.

"I know," Steve agrees. "So much better."

Bucky blinks surprised like he wasn't expecting Steve to agree. Bucky leans down and kisses him for a long time. He's gone soft inside of him now and pulls out at some point but keeps kissing him long and slow. They roll on the bed until Steve's on Bucky's chest, wrapped in his arms.

They look over at some point and realize the sheets are already soiled with their release.

"Want me to get a rag?" Bucky offers.

"I'll throw it in with the laundry."

Bucky gives him a look.

"I'm someone who prepares, Buck."

"Oh, are you?" Bucky smirks.

"Of course. I knew we'd get here eventually. I didn't know how or when, but I knew it'd happen. So I learned how to do laundry."

Bucky lets out a laugh. Then he sighs.

"This is so much better than the outhouse."

"Fuck yeah, it is."

They, unsurprisingly, continue to meet at Steve's house all week Peggy is gone. Bucky grows more confident in fucking Steve. He doesn't move as slowly, he lasts more than three thrusts and Steve gets used to having a cock inside him.

Steve learns how to ride Bucky and fuck, they both like that. Bucky gets this unbelievable look on his face and always comes a lot faster when Steve's on top. Which is boosting Steve's ego more than it should.

They venture to other areas of the house. Something they both admit their wives don't approve of. They fuck in the shower, on the recliner chair, over the kitchen counter, on top of the coffee table.

One night, they fuck up against the front door. They don't plan it. Bucky just shoves Steve against it the moment they walk inside and opens him up right there. That was secretly Steve's favorite.

The week goes by too fast. On Friday, they're silent with the glum reality that Peggy will return home tomorrow.

They're lying in bed this night. They've fucked twice already. Tonight, their hands are intertwined, Steve's leg is hooked over Bucky's hip while his head rests on Bucky's chest. He can feel Bucky breathing, he can count every heartbeat. He's dreading the moment Bucky will have to get up and leave.

"Gonna miss this," Bucky says softly.

Steve actually feels his eyes well up so he refuses to look at him.

"We still have the outhouse," he says weakly.

"Yeah," Bucky chuckles, making Steve's cheek bounce with it. "But this was really nice."

"It really was."

"Hey, at least you have the reminders."

"You're not gonna remember?" Steve picks his head up, offended.

"No, of course, I will," Bucky says, cupping Steve's chin. "Sweetheart, I think about you every fucking night."

Steve softens instantly, the pet name affecting him a little too much.

"I meant reminders of all the places, you know? The table, the chair... it's probably best it's not my place. Sometimes, I go out to the shed and get hard."

Steve's mouth drops at the revelation.

"No, you don't," Steve mocks.

"I swear. Can't get any work done now."

"Well, I won't be able to do nothing if I get hard in every room of my house."

Bucky grins. "Yeah, almost got every room. Didn't we?"

Steve sighs happily, letting his chin fall back on Bucky's chest.

"We'll get the rest someday."

"I'm counting on it, sweetheart," Bucky says and lifts Steve's chin again for a kiss.

Steve looks at him as they draw back.

"This is the best and worst thing I ever did," Steve admits.

"I know," Bucky says. "You're the best and worst thing that ever happened to me."

[herofics]

Overwhelmed, feat Dabi

A/N: I got a request on wattpad for Dabi with an overwhelmed autistic s/o. I based this on how I’ve been feeling lately, since yeah overwhelmed

You were so on edge all the time, and it was driving you insane. Every sound was too loud, all the lights were too bright, and god forbid you had to hear the neighbors sing karaoke one more time, you were going to implode. Dabi hadn’t been back to your place for a couple of days, and you weren’t sure if his absence was making things better or worse. You missed him, but you also weren’t sure if you could handle any company right now. 

Just on cue, the doorbell rang. You sighed, preparing yourself mentally for being face to face with another human being. It was most likely Dabi, since you weren’t expecting anyone else. Besides, you wouldn’t open the door for some stranger anyway. You checked the peephole and saw it was indeed him. You took a deep breath, and plastered a calm-ish expression on your face, hoping he wouldn’t notice how uneasy and on edge you were.

You opened the door and took a few steps back to let Dabi into the apartment. He closed the door behind him and kicked his shoes into the corner next to the door. You walked back into the living room and sat down on the couch.

Dabi looked around the room, noticing you didn’t have any lights on and your blinds were open only a bit. The room was very dimly lit, and he saw your headphones recharging on the corner of the coffee table. It wasn’t just your surroundings that gave him pause, you seemed anxious and on edge as well.

“What’s up your ass today? You seem off” he asked as he sat down on the other end of the couch to give you space.

Of course, he would notice, he’d known you too long for him to not know when you were having a hard time.

“I just feel overwhelmed again. There’s been too much crap going on lately” you sighed, feeling like you just wanted to sink into the couch.

“Lights too bright, sounds too loud, that kinda crap?” Dabi sighed, scratching his cheek near the staples that were under his eye.

“And the neighbors have been singing karaoke almost every night for the past week” you groaned.

“Damn, that sucks”

“Oh, it does. It sucks so bad, and I hate it, because they’re keeping me up. They’re not even going past the allowed time, but I want to go to sleep earlier, and it’s a pain in the ass!” you ranted. “And I can’t even do anything about it, because they’re not really doing anything wrong. Aaargh, it’s so fucking annoying!”

“You could still tell them off, you know. They’re still bein assholes”

“I don’t think they would listen, since they’re not really doing anything wrong”

“You want me to tell them off?” he asked, already stretching his wrists.

“I know this isn’t the most glorious apartment, but it’s still my home, so I would prefer you not burn down the building” you sighed.

“I was just plannin on talking to them, but have it your way” he rolled his eyes.

“Sure you were” it was your turn to roll your eyes. “I’m just tired and overwhelmed, it’s been almost a week since I’ve gotten enough sleep, and everything feels like it’s way too much”

“Do you want to be alone? Cause I can leave if you want me to” he asked.

“I don’t know, to be honest. I missed you, but I kinda also want to be alone”

“I don’t really care either way” Dabi yawned.

You were used to his nonchalant attitude. He often came off as cold and uncaring to others, but you knew better. You knew he cared about you, but he also needed a lot of alone time and you didn’t need to be together constantly to know you cared about each other.

“Or, we can just stay like this? I do like being near you, but I don’t really want to talk or anything”

“Fine by me” Dabi stretched and settled more comfortably on the couch.

Dabi was well aware you didn’t really care for talking or affection when you were feeling overwhelmed, but he also knew that even though you enjoyed your alone time, you hated feeling lonely. He was fine with just hanging out while you did your own thing, you didn’t always have to talk about something, you could just enjoy each other’s company in silence too. Besides, he had barely slept for the last few days, so he could just take a nap on your couch, while keeping you company at the same time. Win-win.

[that-trans-autistic-guy]

Dead Boy Detectives x Slugterra Crossover

i promised i would and ive only just gotten enough time to post it here lmao. this post is just gonna be the boys, since i've got the most info on them but i would be overjoyed to post the rest of what i have. so, without further ado, enjoy this mess of my special interests and hyperfixations colliding. (DBD folks if you need reference help, click here)

Character Backstories

Edwin’s Story

His parents were never particularly attentive or caring. Neither of them paid him any kind of attention. He spent most days on his own. Most of them he spent in a library or the wild, learning as much as he possibly could to satiate his curiosity. He found a love for magic and myths, even more so relating to the Shadow Clan. So, he had adventures to try and find any place relating to the Clan. On one such adventure, he stumbled across a group of hunters prowling the woods. He heard them muttering about finding the Enigmo that had been spotted and he immediately perked up. He knew all about the Enigmo, but he also knew what the hunters would do if they found it. So he sprinted around the woods, keeping his keen eyes peeled for a flash of turquoise. And he found it. As it fell from high above him and hit him at velocity. The blurring of his vision frightened him, but he grabbed the slug and tucked it into his pocket. As he snuck out of the forest, he noticed colors surrounding the slugs of the hunters. He realized that he was seeing their auras, an idea he’d found during his many hours of research. Thankfully, the bullies at his school had taught him how to be stealthy, even with doubled vision. He used one of his father’s spare blasters to fire the Enigmo and undo his vision. The slug was affectionate, if slightly clumsy. It was a welcome change to his parents’ uncaring attitude. He named his new companion Thoth, the god of knowledge. A year or so later, he would meet Charles. They became immediate friends, always sharing their ideas and days, a pattern they continued into adulthood. 

Charles’ Story

As a boy, his father was abusive. He was allowed nothing. Even when the other boys his age were befriending and collecting their first slugs, he was forbidden it. One day, his father locked him out for some reason or another. With a bruise on his face, he wandered around to waste time until he could return home. He met an Armashelt. She stuck to him, even when he tried to tell her that he was just a failure. They became fast friends. When he did eventually return home, his father threw his new friend out and slammed the door. During the night, however, she snuck back in through his window. Time and again, his father threw her out and time and again, she snuck back in. However, he never truly had a chance to name her. One day, his father was in a drunken rage and Charles ran away. Out in the forest, the young boy met Edwin. Despite their differences, they became best friends immediately. When Edwin spotted the Armashelt, he asked her name. Charles was sad to say she didn’t have one. So they discussed it. When asked what he liked about her, he said that he admired how she was a shield in many ways. The few times she had met velocity was when the other boys were bullying him. When velocimorphs flew at him, she had dug in her claws and used her shell to shield him. Edwin suggested the name Aegis, the shield of the gods, and Charles thought it was brills. The two would often sneak away together, staying friends into adulthood.

Character Info

Edwin

Uses strategic/magic type slugs

Knows Shadow Clan Language, loves researching their history and magic

Main is an Enigmo named Thoth 

Works as a researcher, rarely seen outside of his home or Shadow Territory

Charles

Uses heavy hitters like Rammstone, Hoprock, Tazerling

Main is an Armashelt named Aegis

Works with blaster and Mecha customization and repair

Other Information

The boys have Frightgeist siblings they bonded with together

They boys made accelerators and fusion models together

Standard Teams (plus pics for the uninitiated) (no megas for this post but they do get them)

Edwin

Enigmo (Main)

Frightgeist

Geoshard

Arachnet

Slicksilver

White Boon Doc

Charles

Armashelt (Main)

Frightgeist

Forgesmelter

Rammstone

Hop Rock

Tazerling

i am cooking up a way to imitate edwin's hell story but this the basics so far. honestly, its so much fun to get back into this show so i might have to rewatch a bit for nostalgia. so, if my DBD people havent watched slugterra, you should! and if slugterra peeps havent watched DBD, you should do that too!!

[astro-ellie]

i’ve been doing some thinking about comphet!abby specifically when she first realised that there’s a small possibility that she likes you more than a friend.

it all started when owen and her fell apart. abby can’t bring herself to put the blame on owen for breaking up with her. knowing that ever since she started hanging out with you she hadn’t been trying anymore. not really spending that much time with him anymore, and whenever they did hang out she was always kind of in her own world.

when he confronted her, abby couldn’t bring herself to even try to save the relationship. she just didn’t care. when owen had asked her why, why they never seem to spend any time with each other, abby only muttered a soft “i’m sorry.”

she couldn’t tell him what she was really thinking. that her first response to his question had been something so… she couldn’t tell him her thoughts, she felt rude and dismissive, and abby cared about him too much owen to hurt him more than she had already done.

he has only pinched the bridge of his nose in response before continuing to speak. “this- this isn’t working, abbs. no dates, no i love yous anymore, no sex for god knows how long.” he was surprisingly calm, even though he was visibly frustrated he didn’t raise his voice once. it felt odd, this owen who was standing in front of her.

“this isn’t a relationship anymore. maybe it’s time we go back to what we used to be, and what we did best.” abby looks at him, her eyes cold and uncaring. she knows what’s coming, but can’t bring herself to fight for this relationship. instead she feels glad.

“maybe we should just be friends.” and god, abby doesn’t think she’s ever agreed with him more on anything.

on the way to your apartment, abby’s replaying the conversation she had with owen. she knows you’re waiting for her with ice cream and some of those sappy movies you love so much, the breakup cure as you called it.

she texted you the moment owen left her home, and you seemed to have taken her text as a need to be comforted. who could blame you though?

that would be normal right, to need comfort after you just got dumped by your boyfriend?

but abby doesn’t feel the need to be comforted. all she feels is relief. she doesn’t know why, maybe she was relieved that he did it so she wasn’t forced to. and maybe she texted you instead of her best friend manny because… she doesn’t know why she texted you, instead of someone else.

when she makes it up the stairs in your building, she replays owen’s question and her thoughts at the moment one last time. she just can’t make sense of it, why she would ever think that after he asked her the question.

“why? why don’t you ever hang out with me anymore?”

why? why would i when i have her?

[bonny-kookoo]

hi!!!

I am wondering what will the boys do if mc in tongue tied got lost because of staff’s negligence!!! I’m really hoping for more updates in tongue tied but im willing to wait!! thank you for your amazing stories!!!

There's a lot of staff in front of your apartment you've been given at the company building. And immediately, Yoongi worries.

"What's going on?" He asks, uncaring if it's 'none of his business' like he's being told constantly- if it concerns you, it has to be his business.

He's not sure why he's making it his business, but he does. Almost as if on instinct.

The company had denied them to take you home, claiming it had been a simple misunderstanding and a logistics problem, but considering that something's wrong again, doesn't look like it's all so well under control like how they claim to be the case.

"Everything's okay-" one staff attempts, when another chimes up, seemingly unaware of Yoongi standing amongst the staff as he speaks.

"A security staff has spotted her down Ichon Hangang park, she was walking back up towards Yongsan though-" he starts, before he realizes who's standing next to him-

The wolf hybrid instantly running off with the info, uncaring of the entire situation at hand.

All he knows is that you're not supposed to be on your own- and no matter your category, he knows you hate being outdoors, at least heavily dislike it. You could get into serious trouble all alone like that, let alone the mess that could ensue if you were to be spotted by a fan or worse. Right now he doesn't care how you even ran off-

He only cares how to get you back.

It takes him a while by foot to reach where you're supposed to be- but it's Seoul. Itll be hard if not impossible to spot you amongst all the people around him, let alone reach you if he was to catch a glimpse of you. "Hyung-!" Someone pats his shoulder, an out of breath Jungkook with fogged up glasses from his facemask and his quickened breath from running showing up. Yoongi had texted the youngest earlier- considering he's been with you the past few days, he might know better where you could be. "Have you caught her scent yet? I got it back at the Cafe near hybe, but somehow lost it-" he explains.

Your scent. Of course.

It's like a wake up call to Yoongi. His instincts could be his strongest asset right now- his best way of getting you back.

"No, I didn't think of that until now." He admits defeated, especially when he realizes he.. never paid attention to it much. He doesn't know your scent that well. Hell, even Jungkooks would be hard to remind himself of right now and the young wolf is standing right next to him.

When have his senses become so.. dull? Useless?

"I got her again, wait-!" Jungkook suddenly says, looking around-

Before something grabs his sweater, pulling on it.

"Oh God puppy!" He sighs, holding onto you tightly, and Yoongi feels better as well seeing your wagging tail along with Jungkook's as you're finally back.

And now, he's fully agreeing with Jungkooks decision to 'hold you hostage' from the company.

You're definitely better off with them than anywhere else.

[braveclementine]

Chapter 7

Warnings: None. (Will however be a 18+ reader book)

Copyright: I do not own any Marvel characters or locations. However, I do own a few OCs like Elizabeth, Katherine, Stacy, and Jessie. I do not condone any copying of this.

You drove in the car along the highway, making your way towards your H/T. You weren't entirely sure why you were going back home, but that was the direction that you were finding yourself driving in.

Your life hadn't been entirely difficult. Your mother and father had always been busy so you rarely saw them. You were mostly raised by teachers, your sports coach, and several summer camp counselors. And of course, they were all doing those jobs for the money.

You and your sister were used to having a rather uncaring life. It wasn't that your parents were directly mean to you. In fact, the few times that you guys actually did something as a family, it was quite fun. But your parents had never really wanted kids, just going along with Government rules.

Things only escalated once you'd entered junior year of High School. Your mother had passed away, which left your dad in a right state of devastation. You hoped you never found out how it felt for your soulmate to die. It was apparently the most painful thing you could ever feel. The only thing that could numb it was if you got lucky enough to have another soulmate.

Still, that was when your dad was around most, but also when you didn't want him to be around. That was when he started the drinking and the hitting. You were lucky, you were almost out of the house. You applied for college in New York and you moved.

Your sister on the other hand had only started High school, which would leave her in your father's care for four more years. That was how you'd ended up being her guardian now.

And now you were going back home with no idea as to why. Maybe to lay some flowers on your mother's grave. Maybe to just get away from this crazy world. You lived in a rather small, isolated town, a place that none of the superheroes had probably ever stepped foot into. Tony could probably buy up the town if he wanted to.

[If you don't live in America, you can use 'West Chester' as your H/T (home town)]

Your phone started to ring. You glanced over at it. It was Y/S/N.

You sighed. What were the possible chances that they already knew you were gone and were waiting for you to pick up the phone?

Probably high.

You pushed the button anyways. "Y/S/N, isn't it past your bed time?"

"Funny. Come home." Y/S/N said.

"I will." You said. "Just. . . went for a drive."

"How much longer do you think you'll be out?" Y/S/N asked with a sigh. You couldn't hear anyone else on the other side of the phone. Maybe you were wrong about the others listening in. Or maybe they didn't know you were gone yet and only she did.

"I don't know. I kind've need a break."

"If it makes you feel better, you misunderstood the conversation between Steve, Bucky, and Natasha. They were talking about a training incident and how everything was disastrous afterwards. When they said just the three of them, they were talking about them being the only trainers since they wouldn't get hurt easily if there was another incident."

You were silent for a moment. You knew your sister would never lie to you, so you really wanted to believe her.

"Thanks. It just. . . sometimes my head. . . I just jump to the worst case scenario, you know? Especially since. . ."

"Especially since they're all extremely famous superheroes that the world either absolutely loves or completely hates and we're just a couple of nobodies from a small town?" Y/S/N finished for you.

"Exactly. God, I don't. . . I don't know how to be worthy of them." You said, feelings crashing down on you. "I mean, I love all of them so much but. . . how do I. . ."

"You just be you sister." Y/S/N said encouragingly. "You're holding back your personality when you're with them. Just be yourself. You don't have to change yourself. Just be the one."

"Why can't you be the bigger sister?" You asked with a laugh.

"Because now I can gloat the fact that I'm smarter than you even though I'm younger." She laughed on the other side of the phone. "But please come home soon, okay? I really don't like the idea of you being out there by yourself again."

"Yeah, stupid me. I don't know what I'm doing anymore." You laughed. "I'll be home soon. Maybe bring donuts or something back. I'm craving sugar."

"You're always craving sugar, that's nothing new." Y/S/N said and you could practically picture her rolling her eyes. "See you soon."

"See you soon." You said, taking the off ramp so that you could turn around and head back to Avengers tower.

You sighed, going through a Dunkin' Donuts, before heading back to the Avengers Tower. You sat in the parking lot with the rest of Tony's fancy cars, tapping your fingers on the donut box. Finally, with another sigh, you climbed out of the car and headed up to the main part of the tower.

"Y/N!" Clint shouted, throwing his arms around you before you'd even gotten into the tower.

You hugged him back with one arm to keep from dropping the donut box. "Hey Clint."

"Maybe some warning next time before you leave." Loki said, stalking over to kiss the side of your head.

"Sorry. I just needed a breather." You said.

"Understandable. But try not doing the experiment of whether or not a God can have a heart attack." Loki continued.

You blushed a little his words.

"Hey." Steve said, looking slightly awkward, "Can I talk to you in private?"

You blushed, "Er- yeah." Clint snatched the box of donuts, "DONUTS!" He shouted, running for the vents like a little kid. Sam went running after him while you followed Steve into another room where Bucky was already waiting.

Bucky scooped you up into his arms, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek. "Sorry doll."

"When we were talking in the hall-" Steve started but you shook your head.

"It's fine. I overreacted. It's not your fault or anything. Besides, my sister already filled me in about everything." You said. "I shouldn't have just left. It's. . . just a bit of a reflex. When things get tough I choose flight as my natural response. Sorry for worrying you guys."

Without putting you back down on the floor, Bucky passed you like a little kid to Steve who held you in his arms, his lips resting on the top of your head. "I love you Y/N." Steve said quietly.

"I love you too Stevie." You mumbled, before pressing your lips to his.

It was the first kiss you'd had with any of your soulmates and it was Earth-shattering. His lips were full, with force behind them as he kissed back with zero hesitation. His arms tightened on your body and you wrapped your arms around his neck to kiss him back.

Bucky cleared his throat jokingly behind you two. You pulled away first, gasping for air quietly while Steve chuckled, passing you back to Bucky.

"You alright doll?" Bucky asked, sounding amused.

"A little dizzy. Can I kiss you?" You mumbled.

Bucky pressed his lips to yours sweetly, though not as long as Steve did, but just as passionate.

"Am I missing something?" Sam's voice asked behind us as Bucky put you back on your feet. You turned to see Sam was holding your favorite flavor donut. He raised an eyebrow, a smirk curling on his face. "Want this? Come get it."

You stalked over to him, moving to grab the donut before he raised his hand way above your head. He smirked.

You reached up, grabbing his face to bring him down and kissed him. His entire body relaxed before he lowered both hands, one coming to rest in your hair. Then your hand snatched the donut out of his hand before you spun away, dancing away from him, biting into the donut.

"Delicious." You teased.

"You're a terrible tease." Sam pouted as you finished off the donut. "Alright, now you're getting tickles."

You squealed as he darted towards you. "Bucky!"

Bucky laughed. "You're on your own. I don't want to get on Sam's bad side."

You ran out the door, "Loki!"

Loki looked up as you raced out of the room. "Save me!" You squealed with Sam hot on your heels.

Before you could even reach Loki though, you found yourself falling through an orange portal and then landing in a pair of arms.

Stephen pulled you to his chest on his lap. Every time Sam tried getting close, he kept getting pushed back with a portal.

"Oh come on man!" Sam complained after the fourth time.

Stephen chuckled. You looked up at him. He looked a little tired. You snuggled into his shoulder as things started to calm down and everyone started to talk.

Eventually, Stephen rearranged your body so that your feet and legs were in Tony's lap. Tony's hands rubbed calming circles on your knees.

"I'm sorry for leaving." You mumbled so that only Stephen and Tony could hear you. "It was just. . . a bit much with the kidnapping and then the misunderstanding. It just got to my head. But I shouldn't have acted the way I did. Sorry."

"It's alright sweetheart." Tony said, half asleep on Stephen's shoulder. "We all react in ways we wish we didn't. We just move forward. Just make sure to text or let one of us know. Just want you to be sleep. I mean safe."

You giggled quietly as Stephen chuckled, putting an arm around Tony's shoulder to pull him closer to himself. "You can both go to sleep now."

You closed your eyes, resting your head on Stephen's shoulder again. You felt warmth settle around your shoulders and found that he'd gotten a blanket from somewhere to keep you warm. You smiled before you fell fast asleep.

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