#apologies. behold her now

[hellsitegenetics]

hi can i have the sequence to free bird please

String identified:

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Closest match: Falcaria lacertinaria genome assembly, chromosome: 26 Common name: Scalloped hook-tip moth

[fujii-draws]

Grovyle, Celebi, and Dusknoir creating the most intricate plan regarding the most appropriate time to meet Hero and Partner again in the present while they’re next to the Passage of Time. How they’ll explore the present first as a trio for a couple more weeks/months, have Grovyle and Celebi reunite with the two whilst also giving a Big Heads Up regarding Dusknoir; where they’d then go on to see whether or not they truly want him there, and take the necessary action based on their decision. (Whether it’s a unanimous ‘fuck no we don’t want him back’, 50/50, or completely okay with starting over.) Nodding in agreement towards the plan and stepping into the portal together.

They then proceed to immediately get spotted by Hero and Partner just relaxing on the beach.

[the-bluestreak-cat]

Idk man. Never once has making an object a person ever made my life worse

[wstviewvidal]

pas de deux- w. maximoff

summary: who knew a four year old could be your wingman

pairing: rich!wanda x r

a/n: hi beautiful ppl! second part of dc is here! i have nothing to say except we love valerie

dirty cash masterlist

minors do not interact

it’s been two weeks since the word spill incident— as your friend likes to call it. two weeks since wanda maximoff has occupied your mind like an uninvited guest you can’t get rid of. two weeks of face-palming yourself after replaying the conversation you two had at the bar.

your friend definitely hasn’t let you live it down either. you two were on a call a few days ago where she decided it was the perfect time to remind you that you were an idiot and how you practically told wanda that her organization was terrible and didn’t serve a true purpose— and she was right.

part of you wishes you could find a way to reach out to her to apologize and make amends, but the other part of you feels she’s already forgotten about you and your foolish remarks. maybe that was the truth— maybe wanda had already forgotten about you.

you shake off the overwhelming thoughts and take in a deep breath before you exit your car with the bouquet of pink flowers from the passenger seat. tonight wasn’t about you or your overthinking— it was about your niece. valerie had been begging you to come to her ballet recital for weeks, and how could you say no to the curly haired girl with big brown eyes and an overly convincing pout?

so, here you were for the little girl with a bouquet just about the same size as her.

you weren’t much of a ballet or theater kid growing up, but your niece had a true love for the stage— the dramatics of it all and who were you to not support her? her enthusiasm for the art had been unexpected, but you couldn’t help but admire her for it.

your niece is the light of your life and you often find yourself always agreeing to whatever she asks. she has you wrapped around her tiny finger, not that you mind.

the auditorium is buzzing with chatter and excitement as you get in line alongside parents to enter the theater. you glance around and smile softly while holding the flowers close— this isn’t your crowd, but the reminder that it’s for your niece is what pushes you through.

while the line inches forward, you put your phone on do not disturb. heels click behind you as you replay the last time you came to her performance. you don’t pay mind to the sound that’s getting closer until you feel a soft tap on your left shoulder.

you turn around and low and behold is the woman who’s lived in your mind for the past two weeks, wanda.

your eyes widen just the slightest bit and wanda grins at your surprised expression. “and here i was thinking i’d never see you again,” she says, light laughter filling the air between you two.

you blush almost instantly and smile widely at her, “wanda! hi, how are you? what are you doing here?”

wanda subtly looks you over, admiring your casually put together outfit, “i’m better now that i’m seeing you,” you try to hide an even deeper blush, “this is one of the schools that my company sponsors— we help out with the after school programs. i wanted to come out and see the recital.”

wanda speaks with pride, something you’ve grown to admire about her—her genuine love for what she does. maybe you were wrong in doubting her and her company.

wanda looks down to the flowers in your hands and tilts her head in curiosity, “do you always carry around bouquets this big or is there someone special here tonight?”

“my niece is performing, i promised her i’d be here. she’s the only one who can boss me around and get away with it.” you gesture to the pink flowers in your hand and laugh a bit.

nodding along with a warm grin, she admires the flowers, “that’s really sweet. not everyone gets an adult like that in their lives.”

nodding to her statement as the line moves forward into the seating area and you turn to wanda, “you could sit with me if you’d like.”

you try to extend an olive branch to the businesswoman, the soft look in your eyes is making it impossible for wanda to say no.

“if that’s alright with you,” she follows alongside you to a seat in the middle of the auditorium.

what wanda didn’t tell you is that she normally has a specific reserved spot during these events in case she has to leave earlier than expected.

but sitting with you seems much nicer.

as the house lights begin to dim, wanda leans over and gestures to the flowers. “here, let me hold them and i’ll hand them back when you need them.”

you smile gratefully and hand them over to wanda with a soft thank you.

the classical track plays on the speakers and you can see the small children with their tutus filing in stage. your niece isn’t hard to spot, fourth from the right. you beam with pride as she spots you in the audience after scanning up and down for her aunt. wanda gazes at you with a flicker of admiration as you clap and cheer for the little girl who is dancing.

“there she is. that one’s mine, valerie,” you point to the small brunette with the slightly crooked bun and impossibly large grin plastered on her face.

she follows your direction, then turning back to you. wanda’s gaze lingers— not on your niece, but on you. there’s something in the way you light up when you watch the little girl that catches wanda off guard.

“beautiful.” she murmurs, so low you barely catch what she says.

perhaps wanda was foolish to think that of you already. maybe this is the reason she always finds herself in relationships with people who never truly see her for who she is— just what she can bring to the table.

or maybe it’s the way you treat wanda like a person worth getting to know that has her gravitating towards you. the way you lit up for your niece caught wanda off guard. she couldn’t remember the last time her heart rate sped up that fast at the sight of someone’s smile.

as the show comes to a close, the small children bow and wave to their respective adults. you turn to wanda with a laugh, “those kids are so much more entertaining than an actual professional dancers.”

wanda nods along with a chuckle, standing up with the bouquet, “oh, i absolutely agree. should we go find her?”

you nod and stand up after wanda, “yes please,” you tilt your head with a subtle teasing grin at wanda, “would you like to meet her?”

wanda’s heart beats a bit faster and she finds herself agreeing before she can even consider saying no. the softness in your voice and the way you tilt your head makes it hard to decline. so you two stand in the foyer as she holds the flowers while you scan for your niece.

the little girl comes out with a grin that almost covers her whole face, “auntie!” the little girl jumps into your arms and hugs you.

wanda observes the scene in front of her with loving eyes, the scene rich. she’s holding the flowers with a firm grip, like someone would come by and snatch them from her. why is she nervous to meet a four year old?

she has no idea, but she does know that her heart is racing.

maybe she’s already found herself in too deep way too early.

the little girl turns to wanda with a shy expression, giving a nervous wave as you introduce wanda to her.

“this is wanda,” you gesture to the taller woman next to you, “she’s our friend.”

wanda crouches down to your niece’s height with a friendly smile, “hi miss valerie,” she says softly, “you did amazing! you were the true star of the show.”

that won your niece over. she giggles and begins blabbering to wanda about how much she practiced and enjoyed getting ready. wanda is actively listening and conversing with the small girl, giving her complete attention to the tiny ballerina. it surprises you how easily the two have fallen into a comfortable conversation.

wanda’s eyes meet yours for the briefest of moments and you two smile warmly. there’s something unspoken there— something warm and genuine that lingers between the two of you.

your niece grabs wanda’s hand, “are you coming with us to dinner?” her big brown eyes looking up at wanda with a small pleading expression.

wanda hesitates for a second and looks over to you with a nervous look, while you laugh at the scene in front of you. “i told you she’s hard to say no to.”

the three of you arrive to a italian restaurant and wanda holds the door open for you two, her hand on the small of your back as she ushers you two inside while you hold the tiny girl’s hand. you’re sat in a booth, wanda across from the two of you who is enjoying talking to your niece about her favorite class and four year old drama.

“she’s normally a super shy kid,” you whisper to wanda in awe as the little girl is momentarily distracted with a breadstick.

wanda watches the little girl with a warm look in her eye then turns to you, “she’s like her aunt, hard to resist.”

you chuckle and playfully roll your eyes, turning back to the little girl to fix the small curls that have popped out of her bun. the warmth in wanda’s words make your heart flutter.

you three eat over a family style italian meal and when the waitress comes back to ask if you’d like dessert, you go to say no— but wanda turns to valerie with a sneaky grin.

“val, you want some cake?” wanda has a playful smirk. valerie’s eyes light up and she nods enthusiastically, the fallen out curls moving with her.

you turn to wanda with mock seriousness, “wanda, you’re spoiling her.”

immediately and with an almost flirtatious tone, wanda quips, “only fair if i spoil you too, don’t you think?”

that stumps you. you blush slightly and try to play it off by looking elsewhere, but the teasing smirk on wanda’s face tells you that she noticed the flush.

after dessert, your niece falls asleep on your lap while you converse with wanda.

“she really likes you,” you say to wanda quietly as you look down to the brown haired girl in your lap, “i’m surprised she warmed up to you so quickly.”

a blush forms on wanda’s face, ever so faint that you almost miss it— almost.

“and her aunt? what about her?”

wanda’s low questioning tone brings a heat up to your cheeks that you so desperately wish wanda can’t see. the question catches you off guard, but you force yourself to meet wanda’s gaze, “maybe,” you say with a smirk, but your voice came out much softer thank intended.

there’s something in the way the two of you look at each other— something beyond whatever it is you two thought you had.

the waitress comes back with the check and you reach to your purse for your wallet, but wanda beats you to it and hands the check back to the waitress before you can even protest.

you look at wanda and speak with an exasperated sigh, “why did you pay? i was going to.” you partly feel guilty that wanda paid when it felt that you were the one who dragged her along.

wanda shrugs with nonchalance as she starts cleaning the table, “why not? you deserve a night out and so does the baby.”

wanda’s nonchalance and the way she’s taking charge surprises you, but you’re not hating it. there’s something comforting in the way she’s taking care of the two of you.

you still feel partly guilty and begin to help wanda pick up the table, “is there anything i can do to pay you back? i feel bad that we dragged you out with us, i’m sure you had other plans.”

wanda laughs and waves her hand dismissively, “you didn’t drag me, i chose to come with. and as for paying me back..”

wanda has a look in her eyes that only spells trouble and it makes you nervous, “my company is having a dinner next month. would you like to be my plus one?”

you’re caught off guard but just as you go to respond, the waitress comes back with the receipt.

“your daughter is the cutest thing, you two must be so proud. have a great night!” the waitress picks up the plates and moves on before you can ever correct her.

you look over at wanda and laugh a little bit, “sorry.” you pick up the sleeping girl in your arms and the two of you walk out to your respective cars.

wanda walks you to your car with a light hand behind your back, making sure you carry valerie safely as she checks the road for cars. the streetlights cast a soft glow over the parking lot, wanda’s protective instincts surprising you in the best way.

just as you two stop in front of your car, your niece wakes up and realizes it’s time to go.

“is auntie wanda leaving us now?” her tiny voice laced with tiredness as she reaches for wanda.

wanda is caught off guard with valerie’s words but works quickly to grab the little girl whose tiny hands are grabbing for her, “yeah, honey, i’m taking off. maybe if your auntie is sweet enough, we can go out to eat again.”

wanda takes a peek at you from behind valerie’s head with a playful pout. you nod softly to her silent request to see each other again. you admire the scene in front of you, the way wanda’s rocking the little girl in her arms and gazing at the four year old with pure joy.

wanda works quickly to get valerie in her car seat that is in the backseat of your car before she wakes up again.

she turns to you with a new look in her eyes, something comforting and touching. “she’s the sweetest thing, you know that? a lot like you.”

you giggle and roll your eyes, “whatever you say, wanda.”

you lean on your car and eye wanda as she pulls out her phone from her back pocket, “i meant what i said in there,” she gestures back to the restaurant, “i want you to come to the dinner with me. i promise it won’t be like the last time.”

at the mention of the past event, you groan as you put your phone number into her phone, “stop bringing it up.”

wanda laughs, a sound you are growing to love. “seriously though. i want you there with me.”

the way she says it, the way she looks at you with soft eyes, it all makes you giddy inside.

“i’ll see you,” wanda says as she puts her phone back into her pocket, giving you a warm smile before she turns back to begin walking to her car.

you watch wanda leave to her car from inside your own with a grin. just before you take off, you can hear your little girl from the back, “auntie, your girlfriend is really nice. i like her.”

you roll your eyes but can’t hide your smile. you mentally thank valerie for convincing wanda to come to dinner with you two.

“she’s not my girlfriend, val,” you laugh at your niece’s assumption that you and wanda were dating.

she lets out a soft yawn and holds one of her stuffed animals close to her chest as she sits in your backseat, “but she could be.”

looking in your rear view mirror at your niece, you can’t help but be surprised at her words. how could a four year old possibly know about this stuff? you fight the urge to press your niece further about her knowledge, but decide against it.

arriving home, you carefully pull your niece out of her car seat and take her to your bed to sleep until her parents pick her up later. you press a small kiss to her forehead and let out a soft sigh at the memory of the conversation in the car.

staring at wanda’s contact as you sit on the couch, you can’t help but replay the day’s events over and over. the way she was gentle with valerie, the way she looked at you and took care of the both of you, and the small bashful smile she had when she asked you to be her plus one.

you type and erase several different messages until you decide on a fairly simple one to send to wanda.

thank you for tonight. valerie really likes you

you hit send and place your phone down before you choose to not send anything at all.

not even a whole minute passes before your phone buzzes with a new message.

she’s adorable.. just like her aunt

you bite your lip to keep from smiling like a fool at her text. her reply is short, but you can already hear her voice as if she was saying it out loud. she sends another text before you get the chance to type something out.

seriously, though. thank you for allowing me to tag along. i loved it. i really hope you’ll think about being my plus one next month

you mentally envision yourself with wanda, your stomach doing flips at the thought of you being by her all night. her gentle demeanor and hand guiding you through the night makes you smile foolishly.

i’ll think about it, i promise. goodnight, wanda

you type out the response and hit send quickly before you get the chance to talk yourself out of it.

goodnight, you

maybe your niece was onto something.

[deadsetobsessions]

Sea Cryptic! Danny- pt. 10

[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.4] [Pt.5] [Pt.6] [Pt.7] [Pt.8] [Pt.9]

“This you?”

Danny glanced at the stone tablet in Spoiler’s hands and groaned, Phantom form flickering with embarrassment as his face got even more neon green. It was indeed him.

——

The first Atlantean and Ghost King encounter went something like this:

Imagine Danny, sleep deprived. Easy enough. Now, imagine Danny, trying to corral a ghost that had a penchant for sea life.

“Alabastor, I swear to Ancients, if you don’t get back here, I’m gonna make you into ghost sea-food boil!” Danny yelled as he chased Alabastor through the ghost zone. The crustacean shaped ghost cackled, skittering along the Zone.

"Make me, Phantom! You have not seen the might of the sea!"

"That's it, soup-time, crabby!"

Danny dove after Alabastor, chasing him face first into a temporal portal and right into the sea.

"BEHOLD!" Alabastor rumbled, claws raised and sea churning around him. Danny flew at him, noticing the screaming people below. He quickly raised a dome of clear ice to protect their entire city before returning his attention back to the giant crustacean. The distraction cost him, as Alabastor blasted him with a beam of his power. "THE MIGHT OF THE SEA!"

"SOUP!" Danny bellowed back, Alabastor's power forcing him into a giant crab form, aside from, hilariously, his head. Danny, always quick to adapt, slammed a massive claw straight into one of Alabastor's eyes and popped open the Fenton Thermos with a feral grin. In but moments, Danny manages to soup Alabastor but not before slamming him down onto the unbreakable ice Danny had just made.

Carefully turning by skittering sideways, he unmelted his ice.

"Sorry about that," he said sheepishly to the gawking civilians below.

"Suh-ree? What is suh-ree?" A brave woman asked.

"Oh," Danny uttered as he realized that he should probably switch languages. His giant crab body and small itty bitty human head swayed in an unsure motion. "Sorry means "my apologies." I had not meant to involve you. I am Phantom."

"It is alright... thank you for protecting us... God Phantom?"

He grimaced. "Not a god."

"King, then." She stepped forward. "May I ask of the ice?"

——

Spoiler, sensing weakness like the Riddler to a riddle, leaned in. "Did you know they have a traditional dance to honor the god that gave them the unbreakable ice that protects Atlantis to this day? It goes like this," Spoiler stepped back and did the dance, complete with exaggerated arm movements and, embarrassingly, the scuttle walk Crab!Danny was forced to learn with his new crab form.

"We shall never speak of this again," Danny huffed.

"But King Phantom, the God of Eternal Ice and Protection, how could we not celebrate your iciness?" Spoiler simpered, Black Bat not too far away and shaking with laughter. The purple donning vigilante did the scuttle dance once more, picking up bottles as she went a small circle around one of Bludhaven's rock beaches.

Danny scowled and plucked the tablet away from her, hair flowing an a more agitated direction. His jumpsuit burned brighter. "Why are you two menaces in Bludhaven? I thought your territory was in Gotham."

"Nightwing asked for back up and we were in the area." Spoiler, blessedly, stopped the walk to answer him. "By the way, are you and Danny dating?"

"Pardon?" He asked, insulted but highly amused.

"Oh, you know, he has your number, and you only ever talk to him outside of us, and how you guys have a high level of communication." Spoiler said leadingly.

Oh, Danny knew what this was about now. He found out their identities and now these two are interrogating him because he liked them best. They thought they were so clever. Well, they clearly haven't gotten to know Danny at all if they thought he was going to make good decisions.

Danny tilted his head, making sure his face gets as eerie as possible, shadows elongating and eyes burning just that much brighter. The neon green of his face shone even brighter against the suddenly dark landscape of the place. Black Bat stood up, laughter seizing immediately. Spoiler tensed.

"I have a riddle for you. You are good at those, are you not?"

Spoiler blinked but gamely said, "Bring it."

"What do these things have in common? An arguing couple, papers on a stranger's desk, and Star City's robbers."

"..." Spoiler slipped into her solving mode. "Stolen goods. Stolen hearts?" She guessed.

"No. The answer is that they're all none of your business," Danny snarled. His form flickered. "Keep your questing away from Danny- Daniel, vigilante. Your duty is to protect your city and help her," Danny swept an arm out. "Stick to that instead of inserting yourself into places you are not wanted."

Then, with a toss of an ecto-crossed recorder that held the verbal report he'd promised Nightwing towards Black Bat, Danny blinked out of the visible spectrum and flew above the two.

"... Shit, I think I pissed him off."

Black Bat nodded. "He was defensive."

"Yeah... did you hear that slip? Oh, they are so dating."

Danny grinned. He couldn't wait for Tim to interrogate him soon.

——

"You're kidding."

Danny shook his head, maniacal grin still on his face hours later. He'd taken the liberty to call his best friends before classes started for the day.

Tucker groaned. "Danny, I can't believe you're messing with Batman. Why are you like this."

"Look, I need your help."

"Oh no, keep me out of your dumbass plans, Fenton," Sam pointed at him through the screen, immaculately painted black nails threatening.

"Okay, if you go along with my plan, I'll give you Dr. Isley's number."

"Deal," Sam said immediately, changing her tune at a drop of a hat. Or, at a drop of a number.

"What about me?" Tucker asked, offended. "I deserve compensation for my work too, dammit!"

"I'll give you Tim Drake's number and persuade him to let you have a crack at Wayne Industry's tech basement."

"Deal, what are we doing?"

Danny's grin spread even wider. "We're dating. And, you two? You're Phantom's exes. Tucker, you say good stuff about me. Sam? You make up terrible things about me. But we're all dating each other and I'm dating Phantom on the side."

"I hate you," Sam deadpanned. "But fine, it's not that hard. I've got tons of embarrassing stories about Phantom. You better get me that number, Danny, because you know Dr. Isley was my gay awakening."

"For Tim Drake, I'd be willing to puff up your ego." Tucker said solemnly.

"Perfect. I'm cleaning his brother of ectoplasm today. so expect a call later! Love you guys!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, boyfriend." Sam clicked off the call.

"Think Tim Drake would be interested in a date?" Tucker asked Danny.

"Nah, I think he's got his heart on Benard."

"Damn," Tucker sighed. "Guess I'll have to mend my broken heart with the tools of a state-of-the-art lab, right, Danny?"

"Yep, see ya!" Danny hung up. Today was going to be a good day.

[ihatethecrowdsyouknowthat]

because i liked a boy - spencer reid x fem!reader

somehow a reporter finds out about reader's relationship with none other than her coworker, dr spencer reid and shames her for it during a press conference

genre: flangst wc: 1355 warnings: medialiaison!reader established relationship, slut-shaming, feminism talk, upset spencer, morgan mention, mentioned case involving children

"This is a rough composite sketch of the UnSub. If anyone sees him, please call us using the number on the screen. Any questions?" you speak clearly, eyebrows raised and back straight.

It's a tough case this time, not that any are easy. The ones involving children–like this one–are the worst. You know that. It’s yet to hit you this hard, though. You're used to being in front of a camera all fake smiles and airbrushed to look porcelain but you're struggling to hold it together today. It’s never been easy to see grieving parents begging for their kid’s life on national television.

It also doesn't help that you haven't seen Spencer much these past two days. Ever since HR found out about you two, he’s been trying to keep his distance for professionalism’s sake. You appreciate it, of course, but you wish everything could be normal again. You miss working alongside him, sneaking tiny waist pinches every little while. Maybe you’re codependent.

One of the male reporters holding a microphone asks plainly, like it isn’t rude, “how do you expect this case to go to trial with your ongoing relationship within your team? Isn’t that some sort of conflict of interest?”

Now, how did they find out about that?

Luckily, Hotch steps in before you need to form a response. You’re left flushed and out of sorts, needing some water or something. It’s not like you’ve never had a bad press experience but nothing that came after you specifically. Why do they even care in the first place? Are you really that interesting? Is your love life really that interesting? His mustn’t be.

To Hotch, he spits, “it’s a valid question, Agent, you can’t expect no one to comment on one of your unit’s members sleeping her way to the top or… sleeping her way to getting a case dismissed.”

You want to stay, fight, cry, maybe even guilt him into apologizing, but, to your dismay, you’re pulled away by Morgan who looks just as upset as you do. If there weren’t a room full of people stopping him, you’re sure he would’ve hurt the guy. You don’t want to be dragged away by the action figure that is Derek Morgan so you try to pour your feelings into words. “The conference– the case–!”

Morgan stares at you in a way that very clearly says are you done? And, yes, you guess you are. You sigh, nodding reluctantly.

“Hotch will figure it out,” he assures softly but firmly.

You’re escorted to the break room where you watch the television only to see that very same reporter, spewing his nonsense again. Low and behold, he’s still stuck on the topic of you.

“An anonymous source discloses the identities of two FBI agents with the Behavioural Analysis Unit that are in a relationship of hidden rendezvous.”

The pitter-patter of your heart is louder than usual as he reads out your names along with the loving message, “I guess this proves that women really can’t be trained. What a shame, she’s certainly got–”

With that, you shut off the disgusting noises coming from someone claiming to be a man. You’ve never been good at taking insults but this was something else entirely. Your chest burns. You’re being perceived as a person you’re not. Everything you’ve tried so hard to build could all come crashing down at this very moment if you let it.

All because you liked a boy?

It feels ridiculous, like a step in the wrong direction for all womankind. That’s dramatic, you’re sure, but this is so twenty years ago. What happened to feminism, for fuck’s sakes? You wouldn’t give Spencer up for anything less than solving world hunger, but you wish this whole ordeal could’ve never happened. What if you lose your job? What if you lose this case because you’re too sensitive to male attention for your own good? Unfortunate circumstances led here and you wish it could be simple. It’s a tall order, but you wish UnSubs and all the people who enjoy pinning others down would simply cease to exist. You wish Spencer was here.

As if reading you all the way from canvassing the neighborhood, he’s suddenly visible, walking towards the doorway with quick Converse-sounding steps, Morgan’s hand on his shoulder. He looks worried. What worries you, though, is that he looks guilty. That hurts.

Familiar arms wrap around you as he kneels on the floor in front of the couch. “Hey, I heard what happened. Are you okay?” Spencer whispers, lips pressed into the fabric covering your shoulder.

You ponder the question for a moment before nodding. You’re not quite sure how you feel, if you’re being completely truthful. Criticism was never something you’ve taken well. Not ever. Maybe you deserve it, though. After all, you are sleeping with a coworker. You’re an agent, it’s not appropriate of you in the least. You should’ve kept to yourself, been the good girl the world wanted you to be. Female agents in the big bad FBI are already seen a certain way. You just happened to worsen it with wide-eyed affection.

How he always does, he mutters an explanation, “people like that don’t have anything going for them, you know. They report on others because their own life is insignificant.”

It’s wildly the wrong time to laugh but you do, flushed cheeks plumping from a happy smile. He pulls away and your hands find his face like they always seem to do. “I know.”

He nods. He pushes a strand of hair behind your ear.

He’s so unbelievably pretty that it almost makes you want to cry. Those same somber eyes that you’re sure mirror yours stare deep.

“It just sucks… you know?” you say so very quietly.

Nodding, he chews on his lip. “I know.”

“It’s like… I thought slut-shaming was over,” you laugh bitterly.

You can tell he feels bad. It’s not like this is his fault. You know he believes it is, anyways.

“It should be. It’s ridiculous. This isn’t your fault. That useless guy should be spending the night in a cell for harassing an agent not on the ten o’clock news airing out our personal matters.”

It’s really not often you see him like this, upset and wielding pain-filled threats. It never fails to amuse you. You’re not sure why. Something about the juxtaposition of his usual sweet demeanor and this annoyed ranting one, you suppose.

“It’s kind of funny.”

“Funny?”

You smile and nod, your thumb tracing his lower lip. “A little. We’re the most enthralling news in all of small-town-Colorado.”

While Spencer doesn’t find it quite as giggle-inducing, he mimics the pull of your mouth’s corners and shows his reluctant agreement with a bob of his head. “That is… silly, I guess.”

“We’re basically stars,” you shrug.

In honest disbelief and certainly awe for your ability to brush off the event with humour, he shakes his head, curls falling out of place. Your fingers rush to correct it. The golden eyes you love stay stubbornly put on your own. Breaths mix together in the close proximity despite you not recalling how you got so close. It’s proven difficult to care when his plush lips find yours. Carefully and with love, he kisses you. With no intent, no desire other than to make you feel better. It breaks stickily, the shimmer that once was on your lips now ghosting around his mouth. You grin.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Spencer tenderly mutters.

Gently, you answer, “I’m sure. I mean, we didn’t do anything wrong.”

You believe yourself. You’d never doubt your relationship with Spencer. It just sucks that they had to poke holes in your safe place. That safe place being Spencer. Your home. You know because of your profiler-by-association background that he was right about the reporter being not fulfilled enough in his own life that he had to insert himself into yours. That didn’t make it drastically better, anyway. Perhaps your personal life should be kept away from work.

But it’s not your fault that work happens to include Dr. Spencer Reid.

[suzukiblu]

"Lex Luthor's latest character flaw" poll winner, "deciding he wants grandbabies and giving Robin a cloning lab about it". Behold, a new WIP strikes!!

“What,” Tim says, staring blankly at the brightly-lit and airy sunroom full of very obvious cloning technology in the very expensive penthouse that Lex Luthor’s bodyguards just dragged a handcuffed Red Robin and Spoiler into after kidnapping them straight off patrol in the Diamond District in the middle of an active crisis situation with the League of Assassins and disabling all their tech and every single one of their trackers six and a half hours ago, down to the bastardized Kryptonian-tech ones in their back molars and two more in both of their suits that Tim didn’t even know existed, plus the one he put in Steph’s collar that she didn’t know existed. Babs is probably just about feral by now. Bruce is definitely feral by now. 

And Lex Luthor is drinking what appears to be a neon purple protein shake out of a rocks glass while sitting at a neatly-arranged desk in the center of the sunroom lab, looking idly bored and scrolling through whatever’s on his phone with his free hand. 

Alright then, Tim thinks carefully. 

“There you are, I was starting to wonder if I’d gotten al Ghul riled up for nothing,” Luthor says, barely glancing up from his tablet. 

“. . . which al Ghul,” Tim asks with wary dread. 

“All of them,” Luthor says, setting down his tablet to give him a pleasant smile. 

Well, now Tim knows why nobody’s dropped in a skylight to rescue them yet. And also why half of Gotham is currently on fire. 

“Uh,” Steph says, glancing around the sunroom lab. “So like, lead-lined glass in here, then, or . . . ?” 

“We’re in Connecticut, so no,” Luthor replies dismissively. “Anyway, the Boy Scout always gets suspicious of too much lead in one place. Which I personally find darling, since anyone in Metropolis without at least a lead-lined and soundproofed bedroom is essentially asking for Kryptonian voyeurs, whether intentionally or not on said Kryptonians’ parts. Also, privacy laws exist for a reason. As do patents, copyrights, attorney-client privilege, HIPAA . . .” 

“Connecticut?” Steph repeats incredulously. “What the frick is in Connecticut?” 

“Currently, us,” Luthor replies matter-of-factly. “Hope, Mercy, do me a favor and go check the security systems manually, just in case any invasive species of vermin have gotten into them. Also, yes, there is kryptonite, and no, there is actually much more than you’re theorizing.” 

“You have literally no idea how much kryptonite we’re theorizing,” Steph says as the bodyguards both leave with an affirming nod. Luthor gives her a pitying look, then turns his chair a few degrees towards Tim. Tim immediately expects the inevitable threat or ultimatum, and braces himself for–

“I’d apologize for all the fuss, but I don’t actually care about inconveniencing you and don’t see the point in pretending I ever would,” Luthor informs him. Tim stares blankly at him again. What is even happening right now? “Now then, what are your intentions in regards to ‘Supernova’, as I hear someone’s started calling himself now. ‘Themself’? I’m not sure if ‘Supernova’ is meant to be gender-affirming or more a ‘too old to stick with ‘Superboy’ but there are already three ‘Supermen’ active and the whole, you know, general stubborn individualism they’re so fond of. Or ‘he’s’ so fond of. Whichever."

Tim stares at him. 

“Is this supposed to be a trap for Supernova or a shovel talk for me?” he asks, because a) he’s not telling Lex Luthor anything about Kon’s gender or personal choices that Kon hasn’t publicly stated, and b) only Lex Luthor would actually kidnap two active vigilantes in the middle of a crisis he’d apparently pre-arranged to give a–well, no, Bruce would also do that, definitely. But this is not a Batman talk, either way. 

Batman’s “talks” all involve tests, for one thing, so actually so far this is an improvement. 

“It’s an engagement present,” Luthor says pleasantly. 

Tim’s brain crashes, then does the slowest reboot of his life. He’s recovered from concussions faster, he’s pretty sure. 

“They’re . . . not engaged, though?” Steph says skeptically. “Or, like, even dating?” 

“Red Robin’s commitment issues are his own problem, not mine. I’ve got a schedule to keep,” Luthor replies dismissively.

[tiddygame]

ok look, my meds are making me feel Funky again but…

after soap is released from the hospital, he moves back in with his parents, everything already having been taken care of.

ghost moves in as well, but it’s a much slower and much more gradual affair.

sure, simon spent every second he could at johnnys side, but he still didn’t live there or anything. and he didn’t intend to leave his stuff behind, but he was called in for an emergency and didn’t have time to brush his teeth, much less gather his things.

and he was going to take his stuff back to his flat, but mrs. mactavish insisted that it wasn’t a problem and that it might be easier for him to just leave some stuff there for when it happens again.

and since johnny is… well… unwell, it might be a good idea to change his emergency contact too. and of course mrs and mr mactavish are more than happy to take care of it!

simon doesn’t even stop by his flat any more when he’s on leave, heading straight to the mactavish house as soon as he’s cut loose

johnny is getting better, slowly but surely. there are a lot of steps back and some days are a lot worse than others, but simon breaking several laws just to call him when he’s on a mission is a nice reminder that no, simon didn’t leave him, and is actively fighting to get discharged so they can be together.

johnny mentioned that sometimes listening to simon’s voice is the only thing that helps him sleep, so simon leaves voicemail after voicemail so that even when he can’t properly call him, he can still talk to johnny

.

mrs mactavish had been doing the laundry when they knock on the front door. she knew what it meant when the officers apologize as they remove their hats with a sorrowful look.

she was borderline hysterical, refusing to believe it. mr. mactavish tried to console her, but he wasn’t doing too great either.

they don’t know what to tell johnny. they can’t tell him. how could they? he was finally getting better and now they’re expected to tell him that those voicemails from simon are the only thing he has left?

they consider waiting until the funeral arrangements are being discussed, but they knew it wouldn’t end well. they figure brutal honesty was better than the betrayal he’d feel if they tried to keep it from him.

when they m tell him, he just laughs and says he’ll believe it when they recover the body.

his parents sigh, and nod. they figure it’s best to leave him be, at least until the funeral.

but lo and behold, barely a week later, simon appears on their porch late one night with his arm in a sling.

he was grumbling that being caught in a building collapse and missing exfil shouldnt be enough for him to be assumed dead, but is cut off when mrs mactavish hugs him.

he was surprised, just apologizing for making them deal with the whole dead/undead thing, but she was still crying and refusing to let him go.

he didn’t know what to do and just awkwardly returned the hug with one arm, patting her back as he tried to figure out what the hell was happening

it wasn’t until mr. mactavish pulled him into a hug as well, muttering something about how he’s glad simon is safe, calling him son, that he breaks.

he hadn’t had a family in so long and he doesn’t know what to do. but mrs mactavish does, saying that he must be hungry and getting him something to eat.

johnny just laughs, both at his parents for assuming he was wrong about the body recovery thing, and at simon for taking that long to realize that he’d been abducted adopted by the mactavish family, telling simon that his fate had been sealed the first time johnny brought him home

[romanoffsbish]

Forever Mine

Natasha Romanoff x F!R (College AU)

Warnings: Angst -> Fluff / HE | Classism / Break-Up | Insecure R | Jealous / Possessive Natasha | Violence

Natasha was supposed to be having the time of her life, it was her final year playing college ball and she was hoping to end it on a good note but you threw her off her game. So, the night before another she found you at a party… | WC: 7,252

Smut: Rough -> Soft | Fingering (Both) | Oral (R) | Thigh-Riding (N) | Denial / Overstimulation | Choking

18+ | Minors DNI

Natasha glared across the room as she caught a fool with their eyes on you—the love of her life (the ex). You smiled politely; sweet, the way that always made her face hot and her heart skip—the most beautiful feeling.

Everything was perfect, but then you ended things. Nonsense uttered about focusing on school but you were not dressed like someone who preferred solitude.

You looked like you were here to fuck and forget, which only further soured her mood. Here she was waiting, hoping to see you since you won't answer her calls and you were relaxing at a frat party in a scandalized fit. It only made her heart ache even more for owed answers.

——

Her first thought was to yell at you, to cross the room and scream at you in front of your peers until you apologize or run out crying. The rational side of her could see you were out of your element, while they told jokes you nodded but your smile had lost its shine. It was clear to her you were definitely not feeling joyful.

Which is more in line with what she expected since you two were just madly in love a month ago, then you came back home from Christmas vacation with her family in Malibu, where the weather was dreary. It was a weekend full of pretentiousness, her parents to blame but with you at her side she could actually handle it all.

One smile from you and she'd settle, you were so calm and loving, everything she felt she didn't deserve but nonetheless she clung to with firm arms. Every time her parents upset her, she'd find and pull you close and you would let her without a single prying question, the two of you would naturally melt into pure tranquility.

Unfortunately that peace you brought her now ceased to exist, you changed in a blink, the quiet car ride home alarmed her enough, you fell asleep on the couch that night then somehow she lost her entire heart in three days when you stumbled right out the door—you left.

She shared her New Years kiss with a bottle of Rosé, the one that Wanda gifted you on your twenty first birthday, when everything was so much simpler.

You were saving it for your second anniversary, which was meant to occur a few days ago, but you walked out before that could happen so she took a large swig then poured the rest of the bottle out onto your cacti that filled a corner of her house. Now you lived in a friend's dorm until you can find somewhere else to stay. The redhead begged you to stay, even offering to stay in a hotel until you could find somewhere secure and safe.

You refused and rushed out to avoid sobbing in front of her and begging her to just love you even if you would never be good enough for her; Natasha was luxury.

You were too, but beauty was in the eye of the beholder and you were trusting the hoaxed, who lived to judge. Natasha had a suspicion for what your motive was. The breakup has been on her mind every day and it is what keeps her up at night. She should be furious, it is her right after all, but all she feels is deep pain and regret.

Regret for not publicly calling out her family for ever shunning you; making sure you felt her love, she saw a flash of unwillingness and regret before you turned away from her and ran out the door with two bags and there in turn lies the pain, not being able to love you. A set of tears slid down her cheeks as she remembered that night, the inevitable memory spiral underway.

Her mind cleared when she heard you say no way, there were a million reasons for it but she assumed the worst based on her petty observations. Natasha saw a look of discomfort on your face and her nonchalant resolve crumbled, the rage she felt towards you turned into something she could express as she walked over to the both of you and punched DJ square in the face.

"Oh my god," you gasped, "Natasha what the fuck?"

"The prick should have kept their hands to themself!"

You rolled your eyes, prepared to defend your friend but DJ rushed forward and head-butted Natasha in the nose, blood gushed and you felt queasy at the mess you had made by ignoring their encouragements to talk with her, maybe if you had this headache wouldn't be.

They ran with the violence though, leaving you frozen in place, unable to move in their tumultuous direction.

Until Natasha easily got the upper hand seconds later, tapping into the power of the Greek gods to punch the poor kid in the gut. Your lanky friend went flying and you realized it was time to intervene before cops arrive.

DJ bounced back fast and went to swing next but you jumped in between them and the brunette faltered. A sigh of dejection left their lips and they lowered their fist but the glare didn't waver. "Watch your back, Red."

You sent them off with a smile of appreciation and they nodded like it was a secret code. Natasha wore her envy close to her chest until it spread to her features.

"Are you really already seeing other people," she cried, a direct contrast to her glassy eyed glare, even when her words are angry she can only express devastation.

"Natasha," you pled, "come with me upstairs, please."

The redhead didn't want to give you the grace of a shameless admittance. You humiliated her by breaking her heart before the semi-finals game that DJ had to save. Natasha was the best on the team, coming in at only 5'3 but she had unbeatable court skills. That was supposed to be her night for scouts to truly take notice of her, she was meant to shine, but now, instead she is on the eve of the finals on the verge of being benched.

Instead of practicing her free throws down at the court with the metal chains; sprinting short distances in manic repetition, or most importantly, getting sleep; she is intermixed with drunk college idiots for you.

Because, as much as she hated admitting it, she just can't do any of those things without you being her personal cheerleader anymore—she is exhausted.

Something you noticed when you finished wiping her face clean of the blood and smudged makeup. Under it all, you found winter kissed cheeks where faint freckles remained, waiting for the rays to bring them back, the urge to kiss over the bridge of her nose arose. A soft, instinctual smile graced your face until you caught sight of her dark circles and dry, flaky skin. "Natasha."

It was a whisper but she heard your shock and guilt. Though the redhead misunderstood your concern, and boasted, "they had it coming, you needed protection."

You reached down to rinse off the rag, then began to smooth it over her face once more, the warmth of the fabric blanketed her in false serenity as you couldn't just let her be cocky and vaguely noble. "You don't need to protect me Nat, and especially not from my friends." Natasha rebuffed you with a promise, her tone venomous, "I will always protect you from tools."

"You shouldn't," you changed your approach, and just as expected she rolled her eyes. "Yeah, why's that?"

You sighed regretfully, "I'm not yours anymore Nat..."

"Says you," she grunted, "I had no say nor an actual explanation. Just lies about focusing on school as if we weren't both already focused students at the start."

"We're on different paths," you weakly tried again, moving to gently clean her discolored, swelling nose. "Don't," she warned as she momentarily turned cold, her eyes hardened and she pushed your hands away only to disgust you as her hands popped her nose back into place, she took in a shaky breath and you broke even more seeing the way she tried to hide her wince.

"Please, just let me take care of you Nat, you're only hurt because of me." Natasha scoffed bitterly, "that's a gross understatement if I've ever heard one before."

"I—," you flinched and Nat regretted her harshness instantaneously, her scowl quickly fell into a frown.

There was no satisfaction like she thought there'd be in rightfully scolding you for breaking her heart. All that was left in her mind was to receive the truth for it all.

"Why?" her murky, viridescent eyes filled with tears and you sighed sadly, "I heard your parents Nat, what they said, and I couldn't help but to see the end." You felt it was time to be honest, leaving the ball in her court on if she even wanted to fight for this or if she was angry enough that she'd pick her family over you.

Natasha's expression did a 180 as you confirmed her worst nightmare, her features rightfully downcast, she was pissed off, but wasn't exactly sure who at just yet, them for ever interfering or you for not talking it out.

"What they said isn't true," she growled, "not to me."

You chuckled humorlessly, "they're right Nat. I am not going to ever be at your caliber. I'm going to be a low wage teacher for heaven's sake, you'll be an engineer."

"So what? Those are jobs!!" Natasha lost it and you fed off her anger, gut gnawing detest clear as you spoke on, "Melina said it best, you're beautiful—better, and I..."

Natasha harshly slammed her lips to yours, body seamless as it slipped off the counter and spun you around until she had you corralled. The upset woman blindly reached behind herself to lock the door, then she pushed you into the marble until you whimpered.

The way your body was bent back over the sink hurt, the side of your face being pressed onto the chilled mirror. Natasha was just trying to silence you, to keep you from saying anything remotely self deprecating, but then she couldn't stop herself from seeking more.

In a haste manner she smoothly lifted you up from beneath your thighs and hoisted you onto the counter like you weighed nothing and proceeded to kiss you. All rational thought left you as she devoured your soul, just like she always did whenever she kissed you quiet.

A metallic taste pulled you from your desires, you pulled away and tried to push her back but it was fruitless. Natasha was soft in nature, when she wanted to be—her eyes used to regard you so, but now they were hard and terrifying. Most weekends you'd spend laying your head on her stomach that had a soft bloat for you to snuggle against. Right now though, with her entire body tensed you were reminded of her strict gym regimen and diet, designed just for her scholarship.

"Please," she begged, something that momentarily stunned you since she never was one to beg. "I need this Y/N, like a fire needs air to breathe, I need you."

"You have to let me go," you tried to sound genuine but she could hear the tremble in your voice. "I-I can't be the reason you lose your family Natasha. Yelena ne—."

"I'd give everything and everyone else in the world up if it meant you'd be by my side," she cut you off, her heart would shatter if Yelena took her parents side but it would be bearable if you were there to hold her tight.

"I'm not worth it Tash," you tried again, pushing with all your might because you knew how close the sisters are, but Natasha wouldn't relent on this. Instead, she burrowed her face into the warm space between your shoulder and jaw that was made just for her to do.

"You're worth plenty," she mumbled against your skin that now felt the warmth of her love as she suckled.

"Na-Nat," you moaned and she hummed in sync, "I need you to let go," she paused abruptly for emphasis, using your own words against you like a power move, "of this idea that I'm somehow better than you, Y/N."

"You—." Natasha cut you off, "don't need you to speak for me—especially when you parrot my idiot parents."

For the first time in forever you were silent, allowing Natasha a moment to just observe your sullen face. There was no spark left in your eyes to mirror your adventurous soul and it broke her heart even more which the redhead never thought possible. If she never heard from her parents again she'd avoid a felony.

"Yelena loves you by the way, something you know."

"I do," you admitted, "but they're your guys parents."

"Fuck them," she commanded, "they don't matter."

"They love you two." Natasha shrugged. "Yeah, but love shouldn't have limits, Y/N, and if theirs does then it's worthless to me. I want something real, and deep and could give two fucks less about your damn net worth."

Natasha decided right as she saw your longing glance that now is as good a time as any to finally confess her feelings, "I-," but she was suddenly nervous. A moment of heavy silence passed, your eyes curious and hopeful, yet guarded. "I love you," she admitted the truth she'd failed to so many times before. It had to be perfect, but then you said it first and instead of screaming it back she kissed you with so much passion you blanked.

That night she made love to you, but it wasn't enough.

Not only did you fail to see her devotion but you heard her parents, whom she once highly respected, dismiss you as worthy of her love anyways because of status.

They only had money because Melina works for the Starks, yet somehow they thought they were genuine elites. Nobody invited the family to galas, they just had an oversized house and sports cars to sell the image.

All her life the redhead was told how to exist to keep the whole facade up, what she should wear, how to impress adults, where to go—whether that be for dinner or college, and the list goes on until she finally ended her parents overbearing reign on her future.

Natasha chose engineering because it came easy to her, the same way that teaching and nurturing did to you, the exact reason the redhead fell for you, it pains her to see that what she loves most is being used against you.

Especially because what you are is light and love, and no amount of money could pay for such attributes, it was just organically woven into the foundation of you. It's what made you the perfect candidate for education.

Natasha is a firm believer that teachers make the world go round, even if she's had her fair share of the spawns of Satan himself, the ones who would punish her for her undiagnosed and therefore unmanaged ADHD. It wasn't until junior year that she found herself a you and if not for that she would be living without truth.

Mrs. Rambeau, known to her as Maria during lunch, was her first period Calculus teacher. The woman was stern at a first glance, but without the rowdy crowd of classmates she was soft and hilarious. The moments spent with her eased Natasha's own deprecating voice.

It was her who convinced Natasha to go for what she wanted and not to follow her mom into a lab or her dad into a lifelong play of sports that'd lead her to coaching and to the inevitable breakdown of her body over time.

At her graduation it was her she sought out first, and where she met her wife, Carol and their daughter, Monica. The couple had laughed knowingly at the awestruck teenager before Maria hugged her tight. Then Natasha lifted their little girl, letting her hang off her flexed forearm and found her heart melted as the sweet girl with the dimples and swaying curls giggled.

Natasha saw her future clearly through them; a family, something she only could have with you in her arms.

"I'll give up engineering," she declared, "be a teachers assistant to the prettiest one this towns yet to meet."

"What?" You shook your head, "don't be insane now."

"I'm afraid I've already fallen off my rocker detka," she teased, but you didn't share in the humor of the moment, her smile turned into a frown as she sighed, "I lost every last good part of me with you; the only way to bring me back is with our love restored."

"Natasha, I," you paused, a bit unsure where to start, but it didn't matter because she always knew what to say. "I'm no better than you," she continued with a smile that spoke of honesty. "I'm beneath you."

"No," you rebutted and she shook her head with an obvious expectation. "Seriously Y/N/N, if you don't teach the next generation then there's no future!!"

You chuckled, finally easing into your ex's embrace, "Natasha, I will hardly make a difference in their lives."

"You are so clueless," she groaned, "I love and hate that about you the most. Because, when you trip over your words and I kiss you silent it's perfect." Her lips quirked reminiscently and yours easily followed, then she was back to her enthused speech, "Yet, when I am telling you just how amazing you are, you still push back. I just want you to see what I do, let me love you."

"You love your family," you reminded her once again and she shrugged once more, growing tired of your baseless argument. "Not as much as I love you detka."

Natasha snorted painfully as your breath hitched, a bit too amused by your shock, as if her sentiment wasn't clear prior, even with the absence of her words. "The only question is do you love me enough to let me lead."

"I—." Once again you paused, but this time it was because you couldn't refrain from yanking her back into you for a kiss. A rushed 'sorry' slipped from your lips between steamy, sloppy open mouthed kisses, meant mostly for the wince as your nose had nudged hers but it was emotional in tone so she understood it held a much deeper meaning. Forgiving you was easy...

Especially when she had your body to release her anger upon, her fingers slipped between the tense skin of your abdomen and skirt, "is it okay?" As soon as you moaned yes her svelte fingers slipped over the wet hot mess she'd created, pulling breathy moans from you as she parted your slick lips with her twitching fingers.

Natasha knew what she was doing, teasing you was her specialty, known to build you up until you were crying tears of immense joy. The redhead was lowering you into a false sense of security though, her thumb lightly pressed into the nub that pulsed with need then she changed the pace and plunged into your tight walls.

"Oh fuck," you threw your head back and hoped the glass wouldn't shatter, fortunately it didn't but you sure did break the sound barrier with your cries as she went from one to three fingers between a heartless set of thrusts. Her palm pressed and dug into your clit every single time her digits slammed back into you, each time she reached even deeper in as your growing arousal made stretching you out so easy. You trembled with such need the redhead could've cum on the spot, the same way you felt with the vicious pace she'd set.

It wasn't too far from your normal encounters, as soft as your relationship was, Natasha was very passionate in the bedroom. There was usually a delicate flair to the way she would pound into your cunt, but this time it was deliciously vicious. To the point that breathing became a struggle for you as the redhead masterfully brought you close to the edge. Teetering was all you could do though as she never let you fall fully, which was so unlike her, usually you had to beg her to stop..

The free hand not buried within you lifted your shirt and tossed it across the bathroom in one fluid motion. Her tongue swift and warm as it trailed down the side of your neck, lathing over the brutal marks as she left them behind. Natasha needed to remind you and the entire campus who was going to forever have you, which is why she continued on down. Impatience at the forefront of her mind as she remembered what it was like to bring you to the edge, so she ripped your bra and you felt the reminder of immense pleasure as her tongue curled beneath your nipple, lips suctioned to your heated skin as she began to suck and nibble.

Drool pooled under her chin and slid down your skin as she lavished both of your breasts, keeping you a muffled moaning mess but no matter the waves of pleasure that followed the curl of her fingers or the ruthlessness of her teeth, you just couldn't reach that special place of pleasure because the redhead also knew just what not to do and it was starting to hurt.

"Na-Natasha please," you finally gave into the desire, needing release and not understanding the denial as your thighs impulsively tried to shut around her arm. The redhead considered it, always loving when you begged, but she couldn't just yet, her fingers stopped but they remained buried deep within. "N-no! Why?"

The redhead released the side of your breast that had just been caught between her teeth, the burn of her former grip lingered and weakened your fortitude as you caught a glimpse of her heavy turmoil. "Natty?"

There was a level of despondency that alarmed you. Ever since she saw you tonight, her mind just couldn't stop wondering—have you been with someone else? The sickening thought, that it could be DJ, made her behave irrationally, her fingers tensed inside of you.

"Who's been taking my—," Natasha's growl was cut off by your abrupt plea, "Natasha, look at me." She didn't. Your voice was strained from priorly screaming, but even so it remained strong, "look up, come on baby."

Still, she remained frozen, trapped within her mind as her fears continued to mercilessly taunt her. It broke you all over again to see just how insecure she had become since the breakup. Knowing your choices led her to this moment, where she'd doubt you, hurt a lot.

"I am, and always have been yours," you practically begged her to believe you, tone sincere and hardly influenced by your need to cum. "I have not, and would not have been with another. I only want you Nat, please." The redhead lifted her gaze from where her chin was pressed into your breast to find your earnest face. She believed you, but she was still so mad and kept her forgiveness shadowed behind dark eyes. "I'll believe it when everyone else does; scream my name..."

The way her calloused fingertips brushed over your most sensitive spot within as she curled her digits, holy hell—you nearly blacked out; the corners of your vision blurred as your eyes rolled when her move repeated, over and over, each new thrust more aggressive than the last and that sent you cascading into your bliss after having already received her veiled approval.

A loud scream of her name that became a desperate chant until eventually you were no more capable of an incoherent set of babbles as she kept up her brutal pace was, well, it was clarifying. It finally put the redhead at ease with your truth, she was able to feel as your walls squeezed her in place with every desperate cry of her name that dripped from your chewed up lips.

The bitter tension left her body in a whoosh but all that did was soften her thrusts. A warm, wet kiss left at the base of your neck made your walls quiver with the aftereffects of the high and it became apparent then that Natasha didn't have the interest to stop herself.

"Nat," you called out hoarsely, "you need to rest."

Though your body resisted the message your mind was sending as it reacted pitifully when her wet fingers departed your warmth, just to slide up and slowly stroke your clit, steadfast on keeping you engaged.

"I'll rest when I'm full," she teased against the side of your breast, where her tongue returned to trace over your sensitive skin. "N—," your words faded into a gasp when her teeth grazed your sore nipple just before the redhead began to suckle again, with so much passion and effort you'd think you were feeding her. In a way, you were as the lust clouded your responsible mind, and just like that you were giving into her slightly.

Your fingers, fueled by desire, roughly wove into her hair and the passion was back on, in full force as she released your nipple with a loud pop as she groaned. A strong arm slid beneath your ass and pulled you from the counter and in a flash you found yourself pressed into a frat boy's lumpy mattress. Natasha admired you up close and purred huskily, "such a pretty thing."

"N-Nat," the redhead slipped her tongue into your mouth and sullied your protest into obscurity as her rough hands explored your every curve. A whimper vibrated beneath her palm, having had slid up to wrap her fingers around your throat, the way you mutually craved. There was a possessive, domineering glint in her eye the moment she pulled away to see the result.

You were always such a worrier, so she knew the only way you'd shut up is if she made you—it was also such a turn on for her to watch you go cross eyed every time she cut your access to air off, it was a delicate play of pain and pleasure she had mastered, it always left you desperate for more, something she saw in your eyes just before your lips met again in a passionate kiss.

Her teeth had clashed with yours and you tasted the metallic consequence, which only made you feel hotter. Both of her hands slid down your sides, painfully slow, you could barely breathe as her toying with you worked you up. Natasha's clit pulsed with yours when she felt your thighs tremble as her fingers oh so gently landed on the slippery skin, but with a coded firmness as she'd gripped onto them. The look in your eyes told her she'd won, the smirk let you know she knew; she spread you out further, pecked your lips and spoke, "I am going to devour you now Y/N, I've been deprived long enough."

Before you could grapple with your conscience and deny her on the basis of her own wellbeing she was situated with her face before your slicked lips. The aroma of your essence naturally wafted her way and the saliva that filled her mouth was autonomic enough to inspire her to surge forward to lap up the trails of you that ran down your plush thighs. Every once in a while she'd stop to play with your heartbeat, suctioning her lips at the apex of your thigh, nearest to your mound that only further glistened with neediness.

Natasha knew she had a game to prepare for, the same way you did—but she saw prep differently than you. Sure, sleep was important, but if she was expected to win, she would need to have her taste of you first. After all, you should remember her game time ritual; to fuck her pretty, good luck charm dumb the night before. It had never failed her, until you disappeared of course, which only proved, to her, that this sequence mattered.

A groan left the redhead when she finally dove into you, but fortunately for her you found pleasure in the way she let her pain vibrate through your intimacy. Your back quickly arched as her tongue swirled around your clit and she took pride in knowing you were so distracted by the pleasure she gave you. In your right mind, you would've pushed her away, but that's exactly why she worked so hard to get you to be this pliant..

"Mmmm," you expressed your feelings through a low hum as your hips twitched and pressed your core further against her face, letting her tongue reach even further within, where you by some degree tasted even sweeter. This subtle change always drove the redhead to lose her mind as she strained her neck just to reach your sweetness again. The carnal hunger drove her hands to grip your thighs tight enough to leave bruises and press you further apart, the sounds that came from below were down right lewd now, fueling your praises along and leaving Natasha's boxers stuck to her skin.

"Ohhh shit," you shrieked when you felt the tip of her tongue barely graze a particularly sensitive spot, dots of white filled your vision and Natasha hardly heard your mindless praise with the way your thighs tried to double up as earmuffs. If not for her trained strength, she would likely be deafened to your waves of pleasure, which she needed to fuel her own but she managed to keep you apart just enough to hear your pretty cries.

You were so heavenly, Natasha was overjoyed to have you like this again, her hollow walls quivered with such a need as she felt your juices drip down her chin, that she nearly readjusted both of your bodies to fuck your face but she was too desperate to bring you to climax. Which is why she pulled her tongue out, chuckling devilishly against your sensitive folds when you whined in protest, you looked down, dazed. It was the hottest thing to witness as she locked her gaze with yours.

Natasha placed a few open mouthed kisses to your pussy lips as she slowly made her way up to your clit, dark gaze stuck on yours, you stopped breathing for a moment when you took her appearance in. A bit of the lust wavered from yours as she slowed it down, and she saw the concern in yours as the bruising had worsened.

Before you could grapple with your sound morality her tongue softly caressed your neglected clit, you mewled and nearly fell back down but Natasha wasn't having it. "Eyes on me detka," her gravely tone sent a delightful shiver down your spine—you were enraptured as you watched, and felt, her swollen lips brush over your clit.

"Na—," you were going to beg for relief but stuttered as two of her fingers teased your entrance, she slowly pumped her fingertips in and out as her lips only covered your clit, offering no real stimulation. Until she finally broke the silence, "give me everything."

Her lips suctioned around your swollen nub, and you nearly blacked out as her fingers slid all the way in, predatory eyes piercing into your closing set. Your left side jutted off the bed as the intensity of the pleasure you felt was just too much for your body to bear after so much overstimulation. Natasha swiftly readjusted her body, arching her back to give her wrist more space to move, but mostly to allow her to hold your body down with her right arm pressing into your stomach.

Sweet arousal continued to fill her mouth as it gushed up with every thrust of her fingers, you were so close and she wanted to be closer to you. So her thumb replaced her lips on your clit, as they were traveling up your body, knees holding you open as the arm holding you down now held her up. Your thighs trembled and most of your body ached but you welcomed her tongue down your throat without resistance. It was as if all you needed was to taste yourself on her lips because just like that you were squirming, trying desperately to close your legs and this time Natasha allowed you to.

Once again she readjusted, pressing her covered core against your thigh, you felt the warmth and fell apart. The kiss you two shared broken as you both moaned in mutual ecstasy. You felt so desperate to get her off further, even though you were exhausted, so your hand slid into her shorts to find the results of her climax. There was thought of protest, but Natasha missed this and knew she wouldn't last long so there was no need. 

With skilled fingers you spread her arousal around then easily slipped two of them inside her warmth, pumping in and out slowly like she preferred, at first. The pace picked up when she clenched around your fingers, you began to kiss her again, and after just three firm curls of your fingers within her she came once more. In a matter of seconds you greedily pulled your fingers from below to slip them into your mouth.

You softly hummed around your fingers as you were reacquainted with your girlfriend's divine taste. The moment your lips were free you felt hers, it was a warm kiss full of sensuality as she mixed your arousals with her exploratory tongue. It made your out of order body feel as if it could actually go on for the entire night.

"I want more," she rasped against your lips, you met her with a soft giggle and she fell into you with a pout. "I want more too, Tasha," you sighed, your hands firm as they squeezed her hips, emphasizing your words. "But we should really get your nose fixed up and then get some sleep, since you need to be court ready."

Natasha reluctantly agreed, and moved to help you to clean up, she readjusted your clothes until you looked untouched by her, then she kissed you. You felt her love already but smiled as she said the words so softly, you hugged her tight and returned the sentiment. It was a perfect moment, her hand caressed your neck while her other gripped your opposite hip from behind.

For a moment you both ignored responsibility and just held each other close. A loud knock pulled you both from the peaceful embrace and you looked to your everything with wide eyes. Natasha was amused, a part of her wanted to rip the door open and walk out with you on shaky legs so everyone knew you were hers.

The other, more mature part knew to protect your dignity so she found an escape route instead, just in time for the drunken idiot to pull out their room key. She tore the sheets off their bed, stuffing them into a frat duffle she'd return later and rushed you onto the balcony, that conveniently had a set of diagonal stairs.

You ran across the street to her car, laughing as she held you back from opening your own door, her arm wrapped around your waist as she kissed the side of your neck affectionately. Once the door was opened by her, she allowed you to move forward while rushing back to her side so she could settle you in. You rolled your eyes and waited patiently as she turned the key in the ignition, turning the heater on for you before she buckled you in, then tugged on the strap to check it.

Soon enough she was driving you out of the area and towards her apartment, with her hand on your thigh, her focus remained on the road but her fingers gently traced shapes into your exposed skin at the red lights. Offering you comfort that you appreciated, as this is your first time in the space since you left. If you asked Natasha yesterday, she'd say you deserved to feel bad, but after a few minutes with you she felt otherwise.

It was quiet as you entered, the both of you moving around as if you never parted. You greeted Liho, and waited for Natasha to let you know she was ready as she went on to prepare the shower for you both. It gave you time to see nothing had changed, except that even more photos of you two together had been put up. You smiled as your heart cracked a bit at the depth of her.

It was overwhelming to go from genuine questioning to so assured in her love for you. It was easier though when she looked at you, hand extended and body bare. You let her guide you to the bathroom, undress you, and devote her time to taking care of you. Then, once you were both dressed for bed you did the same, you straddled her on the toilet and patched her nose up.

You deposited kisses to her unaffected skin, and lips with every wince and made sure not to take too long addressing her nose. Natasha preferred quick and painful to slow and still somewhat painful. There wasn't much you could do anyway but to apply an ice cube bag for as long as she'd allow then put a splint on.

In appreciation or infatuation, you received a deep kiss but you were not going to fall prey to her charm, again. You both needed to rest, so you departed in a hurry.

When you got out of the bathroom you expected to lay down on the tempurpedic mattress you missed just slightly more than your lover. But just as your behind nearly met the mattress you were scooped between buff arms, a tired giggle leaving you. "Not so fast."

You hadn't a chance to respond before she whisked you out of the apartment in your thin pajamas, but now that you've adjusted to being outside you whined, "it's cold," and the redhead giddily jumped into action. In a matter of seconds you were enveloped by warmth and cedar-wood, the familiar scratch of her letterman jacket brushed against your skin and you smiled. It was a brief moment of comfort until you heard her yawn.

"Natasha, it's two in the morning and your bus leaves at six," you instantly scolded the redhead, who now sported a skin tone nose splint that you hoped would blend well beneath her foundation. "I need to practice, the game is tomorrow, today is just travel and practice so we can sleep on the ten hour bus ride," she decided.

"We?" Natasha grinned. "Of course, just like before."

You couldn't help but to tease, "What if I had plans?"

Natasha smirked, her shoulders shrugged lazily as she took a perfect shot and mused, "they'd be something to cancel, I believe." The ball, as if on her side, swooshed into the metal net and her suave, inflated ego returned. "One might say this game will go down in history."

You rolled your eyes but a smile overtook your face as she came to deposit a kiss to your lips, as is tradition with these late night practices. The redhead admired you fondly, one hand cupping your cheek as the fingers of her other traced the yellow felt on your back; the perfect figure eights helped to calm her when she felt the push back against her fingertips, a touch to remind her that this—you, were real. For the first time in over three months the woman felt like she could breathe, having you in her arms made her forget her objective.

Then you giggled, teasingly calling out to her, "Natty?"

Natasha hummed, her hazy gaze met yours and your heart melted at the peace you watched settle in her. You felt guilty having to ruin the moment, especially after being the reason she was clinging, but you got it together, and firmly spoke, "get back to the net."

The redhead could've cackled, because with the late time you were actually just an adorable little grump, not your usual intimidating self. She considered challenging you, but she remembered how important the upcoming game is so she pulled you out with her.

"Natasha no," you cried, a body that felt like jello from a long day was not meant for the court. "I am tired." The redhead rolled her eyes and assumed the position, making you scowl, but you mirrored her body anyways because you love her enough to suffer through this.

Ask Natasha, and she'd say you were being dramatic because you were smiling from ear to ear whenever she got around you and yanked you into a rushed kiss. It was a flurry of movements, you could hardly register them, so you were likely not challenging her in the slightest but you were improving her performance.

"If I make this shot," Natasha caught your curious gaze and met it with a smirk; it'd been so long, the sun rays were casted around her and you couldn't believe you ever let her go, she was mesmerizing—to the point that you barely heard her tease, "we get married in Vegas."

"Absolutely n—," you were cut off by the squeal that left your own lips as her body abruptly collided with yours, an arm wrapped and flexed behind you having pulled you in to keep your arms from blocking her. The clang of the net, and your loud protests were shut out of your mind the moment the redhead kissed you, it was full of tenderness, a vulnerability you felt deeply.

"I will make you mine," she promised, and you melted further into her chest. "One day soon, you and I will walk down an aisle and into the rest of our lives, Y/N."

"Yeah?" Natasha pulled back to catch your expression, the tone you took playful and sweet, but your gaze was nothing short of a dreamers. Like you were starstruck by the redheads words, as if they were unexpected and the truth was they probably were to an extent, since you only just heard her true feelings. She nodded and you took in a shallow breath then chuckled in disbelief, this woman was going to be the death of you. "Maybe."

"Care to elaborate?" Natasha was intrigued, not having expected you to accept her faux proposal at the crack of dawn but nonetheless, she was excited just the same. "If you win tonight, I'll let you plan a better proposal."

Natasha grinned wider than she ever had before, at least in front of you, the red tinted her cheeks against her usual expression of perceivable neutrality and you suddenly were being lifted off of the ground. Giggles left the both of you in visible puffs, the cold morning air no match for the warmth of your shared love. A loud engine rumbled in the distance and the redhead caught sight of the bus as it turned into the lot. "Then I guess we shouldn't miss the bus, Mrs. Romanoff..."

Unbeknownst to you, as you laid your aloof head on her chest in the bus meant to lead her to victory, that the ring was already waiting for the day you'd say yes.

[strwbryien]

｢ ᝰ.ᐟentry 01: DON'T JINX URSELF⭑.ᐟ ｣

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synopsis:

IN WHICH—you, although faceless, are a very famous streamer known as KUMI. you were streaming as usual, playing games and interacting with fans. but when you're about to exit the stream, you accidentally pressed the wrong button that led to you opening your cam and showing your whole face to your audience. this wasn't supposed to happen, no ! so you panicked and quickly ended the stream. numerous screenshots circulated on twitter, which broke both the fans and the internet. this reached a certain someone, SCARAMOUCHE, your rival in streaming. when the said boy saw the trending photo, he almost fell off his gaming chair. because—lo and behold! KUMI was actually [name]?! now who is this [name] in his life, if you may ask? she's the girl that scaramouche has been admiring from afar in real life! quite shocking, right? have i told you that he’s also been sending you anonymous love letters? oh well...

notes ᝰ.ᐟ

— k.k stands for kunikuzushi — kokomi is nicknamed 'ghoster' because she sometimes doesn't show up to hangouts due to her duties on the council (though she apologizes afterward!) — i’m not quite satisfied with this chapter but i hope you guys will still enjoy it!

ꪆৎ taglist:

@imnotyizhuo @simonisferal @lovelypadisarah @justkira-143 @yourfavoritefreakyhan @yuminako @035814 @lily-lmao @oddchoerry @shutingstar @squigglewigglewoo @lxkeeeee @blvdmrcnry @tazuduck @wth121 @lloovvv @lovemiyae

[lovscb97]

tags: lee felix x fem!reader x yang jeongin, threesome, established poly relationship, d/s dynamics, hard dom!innie, soft dom!lix, sub!fem!reader, some mxm action, dirty talk, degradation (whore, slut, bitch, etc), use of petnames (princess, baby, kitten, etc), kissing, spanking, exhibitionism? (they do it in someone’s bedroom at a party lmfao), oral sex (f. receiving), jealousy/possessive behaviour, punishments, etc

wc: 1.59k

add. notes: for my other luvr @aerissick :3

. . . 

you’re royally fucked. 

if someone had told you five minutes ago that you were going to wind ass up face down in a random frat house bedroom with the door unlocked and your two boyfriends towering over your mostly naked figure, you would’ve laughed in their face and told them they were being silly (although it’s not like the predicament isn’t a normal occurrence for you considering you guys do get experimental a lot). considering your current circumstances though, you reckon you should retract your previous statement, because lo and behold, here you are, legs spread slightly and on your hands and knees all for the greedy sets of eyes which belong to your lovers. 

“fucking slut, look at her. she’s dripping.” jeongin clicks his tongue with a sneer, ring clad fingers tracing the curve of your ass as he examines the mess you’ve made of your panties; you shiver when the feel of the cold metal touches your warm skin. “did you enjoy dancing with hyunjin, hm? making a show of yourself in this skimpy little skirt that we told you to not wear?” you shake your head rapidly against the sheets, mouth opening to whine out apologies when a sharp slap lands itself on your inner thigh, causing you to yelp. the sting of it burns, pain spreading through your leg at the impact. “i didn’t say you could speak, whore.” your younger boyfriend growls out. you bite your tongue at his words.

“princess, you know the rules. no acting out in public.” felix’s soft voice enters your ears, and you whimper, craving his body next to yours. “now what do we say?” 

“’m sorry lixie, please.” you plead, voice muffled by the covers of the comforter underneath you. “so sorry, innie. please, please.” jeongin’s dark chuckle rings through the air, and you feel his digits graze against the wet patch of your underwear to collect the arousal that’s gathered on the fabric. “don’t even know what you’re begging for, do you, sweetheart? always too cockdrunk to speak when we’ve barely touched you.” he huffs, popping his fingers into his mouth to taste the essence lingering on them. “what do you think, love? should we say.. fifteen as a start?”  he asks felix shortly afterwards, your eyes widening at his words.

“n-no, no! ‘m sorry, it won’t happen again. please, n—“

“shut the fuck up, bitch.” jeongin snarls, pushing your head down deeper into the mattress as you gasp. “you don’t get to complain when you were out on the dance floor throwing yourself at other people.” you sniffle, face turning to the other side to catch a glimpse of your older boyfriend who’s standing next to you. you bat your teary eyes at him in hopes he’ll take pity on you and end this charade, but it doesn’t last long when jeongin yanks you back by the hair to sit up and face him, dark eyes raking over your smudged makeup as he grabs you by the chin with his other hand. “don’t try funny games with lixie, baby. he’s pretty pissed too.” he has a sinister smirk on his face as he speaks, giving you a knowing look when your pout deepens. 

“we don’t like doing this to you either, princess.” you hear felix sigh, turning around to see his hands dropping out of his jacket pockets as he takes a step closer to you. you flicker your eyes to his face when he moves towards you, keening into his touch as his fingers stroke your cheek, causing jeongin to scoff. “don’t get soft on her now.” he grumbles, and felix smiles, shaking his head. “we’ll give her ten.” jeongin rolls his eyes at that, mumbling something about how you two always do this before stepping away from you, leaving you to croon against felix’s soft hands. 

your happiness is short-lived though, because the minute you let your guard down, you feel a sharp smack against your ass, drawing another yelp of pain from your lips. “count, slut.” jeongin demands, slender fingers making sure to rub against the skin where he’d spanked you. your gaze flicks to felix’s, who nods at you with a soft expression on his face.

“one.” you whisper, gasping when jeongin tugs you again by the hair.

“one, and what? speak louder.” he raises an eyebrow, biting his lip at the way your eyes well up with tears. “one. i’m sorry.” you respond, and jeongin seems satisfied by that because he lets you go once you’ve said it. felix’s thumb comes out to graze against your cheek, his pretty face taking in the way you’re settled on the bed, whoever it belongs to, and how sweet you look apologising for your actions. he seems to take pity on you too, because he’s swooping down suddenly to capture your lips in a deep kiss, causing you to moan against his mouth as you reciprocate his actions. another sharp smack rings through the air, leaving you wailing into your lover. “two. i’m sorry.” you sniff after pulling away, feeling your younger boyfriend massage the other cheek he’d just hit you on.

your punishment seems to last hours, even though in actuality it barely spans over three minutes. by the time jeongin is done with you, your face is stained with runny mascara and your ass a bright shade of pink, twinging in slight pain every other second. next to your side, felix whispers sweet nothings in your ear, praises falling from his cherry lips like a waterfall and causing the swirl of delight in your stomach to grow, leaving you having forgotten your punishment easily. “did so good for us, princess. you deserve a reward now, yeah?” you nod eagerly at his words, and he chuckles. 

“if you ask me, i still think she hasn’t learned her lesson.” jeongin tsk’s, causing you to furrow your eyebrows as you pout. felix coos at his words, stepping forward to pull him close by the waist despite the fact that jeongin resists. he melts into his touch quickly though when your older lover kisses him, and you feel your clit throb at the way they embrace each other, lips moulding perfectly against one another. “feeling left out, aren’t ya, baby?” felix teases in a heavy breath once they’ve pulled away, jeongin’s face flushing slightly at his words as he mumbles excuses. “c’mere, come relieve your tension with our pretty girl.” felix guides him close to your neglected frame, and you automatically get up to position yourself on your hands and knees once more, flashing your now drenched panties to their inviting eyes. 

“fucking hell.” jeongin groans at the sight, licking his lips at the large wet patch on the fabric. both their hands come out to touch you, and you sigh in content at the feeling of your two boyfriends having their way with you, pushing you into whatever position they please so they can bury their nose into your cunt and litter your thighs with kisses. “please do something.” you sob when jeongin presses his thumb into your clothed nub, rubbing over it slightly while felix’s mouth trails dangerously close to where you need it.

“oh, we will, baby, don’t even worry.” jeongin chuckles darkly, and before you can even react to what he’s said, he’s grabbing your underwear from both sides to rip it apart into shreds. you gasp at his actions, opening your mouth to whine about how that was your favourite pair, but the words die down in your mouth when you feel felix’s tongue breaching your folds. a loud moan leaves your lips at the sensation of his wet muscle finally, finally having touched you where you’ve needed it all night long, knees almost buckling as you struggle to hold yourself up in the midst of the pleasure you’re receiving. 

“enjoy your treat, kitten.” jeongin purrs, threading his hand through felix’s long, blonde locks before pushing him deeper into your pussy. you mewl at the feeling of him continuing to lick into you deeper, clit pulsating with need when he wraps his sweet lips around it and sucks. “feels good, princess?” you vaguely register jeongin asking through your pleasure drunk haze, incoherently nodding and mumbling something in agreement which makes him laugh. 

“see, we’re the only ones who can make you feel this good.” he snickers, feeling himself straining in his pants at the way you whine from felix’s tongue laving through you. “ain’t that right, cutie?” you mumble out a shaky ‘yes’, unsure of what you’re even responding to as your mind starts to become clouded and fuzzy. it doesn’t take long either until you’re shaking through an orgasm, panting and gripping the fabric underneath you as you spray onto felix’s welcoming tongue. he continues to lick at you until you whine in overstimulation, weakly pushing his head away until jeongin stops you.

“oh no, keep going, kitten. we’ve really gotta prove our point to her, hm? gotta prove it’s only us who deserve this body.” jeongin flashes a wicked smile, gripping you by the hips to pull you back against the older’s waiting mouth. you flinch from the sensitivity when you feel felix moan into you, to which jeongin just smirks once more, leaning in close to your ear. 

“don’t worry, pretty girl. we’re gonna make you cum so much, you’ll never want to feel the touch of anyone else ever again.” he mumbles lazily, and you shiver at his words.

it seems that you’re in for a long night tonight.

. . .

comments and reblogs are always appreciated <3

[cdragons]

Fuck Everything, But Mostly Fuck You

Next Part

Summary: You have never, EVER, in a million years hated anyone the way you hated Felix fucking Catton.

Warnings- MDNI 18+, Felix is delulu, Reader is stressed and homesick and kinda crazy but she a baddie, Michael is Michael, Farleigh is Farleigh, Oliver will be Oliver (a creep), and author has spent too much time researching Oxford crap for this mess for a crack fic to be a crack fic

Author's Note: This fic is a follow-up to this post and I would like to thank grammarly for catching all my grammatical errors 🥲, @ethereal-athalia for enabling my crazy ideas 🥰, and @valeskafics for providing me Saltburn smut when I catch myself thirsting 😇

“FUCK!” you yelled at the top of your lungs just before your nose slammed down on the dewy grass.

Groaning in pain before the mortification of realizing what had just happened kicked in.

You didn’t know what was worse: the fact you had a full front view of the giant’s junk or that he body-slammed you onto the ground and caused you to land on top of the painting worth 30% of your final grade.

You wanted to scream your head off. The paint had finally dried, and you could finally leave the studio at two in the morning. It was close to finals, and pretty much anyone on campus who didn’t get accepted because of their daddy’s bank account was in their dorms. You had hoped that this fact would mean that the paths were empty and, therefore, safe to transport your 30” x 40” canvas.

“SORRY!”

You shot your head up to locate the person who just apologized. Lo’ and behold, it was the same plastered, pasty cunt with a bird’s nest disaster of a haircut drunken idiot who decided it was a good idea to go streaking across campus. His only other distinguishable features were that he was at least 6’3” and that he had a small steel piece pierced on his face.

After the “apology,” he and his friend continued running off to God’s knows where in the dead of night—leaving you behind on the lawn with a bleeding nose, bruised knees and palms, and an oil painting that was torn and caked in mud three days before its deadline.

There was no way to redo it. The project was assigned at the beginning of October. It took 5 hours to set up the models with the motifs and lights, 3 hours to take pictures, and 10 hours to underdraw the preliminary sketch. You didn’t even want to think about the sheer number of sleepless nights you spent in the studio mixing colors and layering. On top of that, you also had your other finals in other courses to study for.

You had practically been living in that studio for the past month. All of the custodians and security guards knew you by name. You got first dibs every day when they refilled the vending machines. It was a true godsend when you didn’t have time to visit the dining halls. Everyone had been so kind and sweet to you. It was a warm welcome compared to the snark and snobbery you experienced from most of your classmates.

Crying from the devastation of the loss of your situation, your shaking legs carried your body and what remained of your work into the building. You knew that your professor stayed in her office late for grading. You could only hope that she would sympathize with your pitiful appearance.

“Wait, so did you get the extension?”

Lifting your head from the sticky library table at Bodleian’s, you stared at your best only friend, Michael Gavey, with a blank stare. You didn’t react to his wince after he took in your haggard appearance. You didn’t need a mirror to know that you looked terrible.

Your eyes were puffy and bloodshot red with dark mulberry bags underneath them. You had paled since coming to dreary England, but now you looked straight-up sickly. And if that wasn’t enough, your eyes had less life than a dead fish rotting at a Sunday Market.

Your voice was so meek that you were sure he had to strain to hear you.

“Yeah…I got it.”

You knew you had no choice but to beg your Studio Arts professor for an extension. But it killed you doing it. Professor Daria Martin was your favorite teacher and the only faculty member who actually liked you. Her support toward you meant everything to you; the last thing you wanted to do was disappoint her, let alone be the reason why she lost her job.

Your usually so snarky four-eyed friend perked up at the news.

“So, is everything okay?” he asked with hope.

Your head fell on neon-yellow ink-stained pages that filled the paperweight your ethics professor called a textbook. A bitter laugh fell from as your lips lifted to a wry, dry grin.

“Oof, not that simple, is it?” he asked.

“Is it ever?”

“So what do you have to do now?”

“Well-,” you lifted your head to take a deep breath as you started to explain, “- I still have the photos and copies of the sketch. But because the canvas was so large, it was special-ordered. That means I need to wait until another one can be delivered, and since all the works need to be completed in the studio, I can’t leave the campus.”

As you finished your explanation, Michael nodded his head in understanding before he paused, and a look of devastation painted his features.

“Wait, so does that mean-”

“I won’t be able to fly back home for the holidays.”

Fuck, you were about to cry again. You had been so excited to see your old friends and family. You remembered how absolutely homesick you were at the beginning of the term. Because you were a scholarship student from America, your parents encouraged you to settle on campus by moving to your dorm earlier than everyone else. It was bad enough that you missed Thanksgiving, but you had really set your heart on coming home for Christmas and New Year’s. What made it worse was that your parents had told you all about the dinner they had planned for your homecoming. It was going to be a feast of all your favorites.

English food sucked balls.

Your only saving grace was the Crunchie bars Michael got for you when you studied together or when you had to rewrite edit his essays.

You really DID cry after first reading his essay for Introductory English class at the beginning of the year.

“Did you try to report it?”

“Report what? ‘Hey, there’s a wasted asshole running naked across campus, and he body-slammed me to the ground and tore my fucking massive campus that blocked my view of the jackass. He’s probably richer than the goddamn Queen, given how he’s wasted right before finals.’”

“Do you have any description of him?”

“He’s a giant with a small eyebrow piercing, and his fat ass looked like it had never seen the sun.”

Without lifting your head, you heard the scrape of Michael’s chair before he walked across the table to sit in the chair next to you.

“Hey,” he began, bringing you into a warm arm hug, “it’ll be okay. You called your parents about it, right?”

“Yeah -” you sighed before continuing, “- they told me they understood and would Skype me daily.”

“See! Everything’s going to be – wait, did you say that this guy was tall?”

Furrowing your brow in confusion, you looked at your friend at the change in his tone from light and supportive to sharp and interrogative.

“Yeah?”

“How tall?”

“Umm,” you had to think about that, “I’d say he was about 6’3” or above? He was really fucking tall.”

“And he had an eyebrow piercing?”

Ok, now you were really confused. “Yes? Michael, where are you going with this?”

“I think the guy who ran you over was Felix Catton.”

You shot your favorite idiot with a deadpan glare.

“Felix Catton? The same Felix Catton who just so happens to be the same Felix Catton you hate?”

Michael solemnly nodded. “It’s him. It has to be. The only person on campus as tall as him is his cousin, and he doesn’t have piercings.”

“And he’s black.”

“Yeah, that too.”

You were skeptical, and it showed. You didn’t want to callously dismiss your friend, but you knew more than anyone how much his hatred for Oxford’s Golden Boy could impair his judgment. You were by no means a fan of the guy, but accusing someone of anything they didn’t do just because your friend thought so went against your principles.

He grabbed your arm and dragged you to the bookshelf in front of the table where Felix and his groupies sat. Both of your books and bags were in your chairs, but you managed to keep your spiral notebook with you. It wasn’t hard to find them – they were the loudest table in the entire library. They also reeked of cigarettes and booze.

“See?” Michael hissed. “Giant, pale, and eyebrow piercing. It’s him!”

“Michael,” you softly groaned, “just because you hate Felix Catton doesn’t mean you can –”

An extremely shrill voice interrupted you.

“I can’t believe you and Farleigh actually ran around campus naked!”

A petite girl with full pink lips and dull red hair latched on the arm of the man of the hour. “It was so hot to watch!”

This girl has weird-ass tastes in guys.

“And then how you crashed into that dunce at Ruskin! Brilliant!”

Your blood ran cold while another one of Catton’s faceless droning puppets chimed in.

“God, what an idiot! It’s their own fault, anyway. Who the fuck walks in the middle of the walk path with a fucking big canvas in front of them?”

One of the lessons hammered into your skull young was never to move before you think. That lesson had saved you ten ways from Sunday. But this was not one of those times.

You’re pretty sure that you hear Michael calling out your name as you walk away from the shelf and towards the overcrowded table. Tunnel vision took over you as you made your way to the overgrown idiot who almost cost you your entire future.

Grabbing the back of his shirt collar, you dragged the 6’5” towering fool on his ass all the way outside. You finally let go when the two of you reached the back of the building that had no windows.

“Hey, what the fu –”

You didn’t let him finish as you brought your fist to hit him square in the face – and, fuck, did you relish the crunch that immediately followed your swing.

Fuck, was his head killing him.

Felix should have known better than to have gotten cross-faded last night, but Farleigh had practically goaded him to do it. It’s not like his cousin ever had to worry about his grades for any of his courses during finals – the little shit-starter had always been so fucking academically gifted.

He skipped pretty much all of his morning classes and barely made it to his afternoon schedule on time while completely zoning out the entire time.

If he bombs on all his finals, his dad was going to absolutely murder him. But chances were he and his mum were going to be too busy entertaining whichever new friend his mum brought in for shelter.

“You alright there, champ?”

Felix swiveled his head too quickly and immediately groaned in pain. The motion made his hangover even worse. Rubbing his eyes to try to soothe the pounding in his head, he slowly opened them to look at his cousin.

The slag didn’t have the decency to look even a little bit affected from last night’s event – the fucker. No, he was sitting there with all Cheshire grins and gleaming eyes while Felix was two seconds from heaving his guts out.

“Yeah, I’m alright, mate.” He replied in a tired groan.

“Must have been quite the night. Wonder if it had anything to do with that little cocktail you took from our sweet Annabel’s belly button?”

Disgust was clear on Felix’s face as he recalled the body shot he had taken from his ex-FWB’s navel. He truly must have been off his rocker last night – he thought he was over with body shots since graduating secondary, but apparently not.

If he somehow got an STD from doing it, V was going to kill him.

But even with all of his horrible actions that caused the raging war inside his skull, that wasn’t the main cause of his misery.

Farleigh’s grin dropped as judgment painted his features.

“Oh,” he moaned, “please tell me this isn’t about ‘your angel’ from last night.”

He didn’t just take the dare of streaking across the grounds just for the hell of it. He needed an excuse to pass through the art building – all for the chance of seeing you.

You. His angel of paints and books who lived in the empty studio rooms of Oxford University’s Ruskin School of Art and whose presence harangued him every hour of every day. Everywhere Felix went, he would unconsciously look for you.

It was his soul calling out for yours – he knew it.

Felix had never felt so drawn to another human being in his entire existence. He’d never seen you outside of the libraries, art building, and maybe the dining hall if he was lucky. You never went to any parties or even had a drink at the pub at King’s Arms. He didn’t even have classes with you, but he knew Farleigh did. Word was that you and his cousin had shared a few classes – what’s more was that you were likely the only person who could go head-to-head with him in academics.

And to make it worse, the prat refused to tell him anything about you – not even your fucking name.

“Believe me,” he told him after Felix had been begging his cousin for hours to share anything about you, “she is way above your league.”

Which really hurt his feelings, by the way – sure, you were probably way above in book smarts, but there wasn’t a girl that remained indifferent to his charms after a good talking fucking.

“I still can’t believe you won’t at least tell me her name,” Felix complained once more, “or even just give me her number!”

“She’s an American here on scholarship and a bore,” he quipped back, “what’s there to tell? And can you please shut up? I want to get some reading done before tonight. You do remember the in-class essay we have tomorrow, right?”

Bloody hell, he did not. Pushing down the bitter feeling in his chest, he and his cousin made their way to meet everyone at the back. As soon as he sat down, Annabel clung on to his arm. Thank fuck he had been wearing one of his thicker jumpers – otherwise, her claws that she called nails would have ripped open the fabric.

“Hey, Felix!” she made sure to offer a very generous sight of her cleavage, “are you ready for tonight?”

Felix chuckled lowly before responding. “Aren’t I always?”

And just like that – he completely zoned out the rest of the conversation.

Annabel was probably saying something to get him to notice her, and Farleigh was likely responding so he wouldn’t have to – but Felix couldn’t be bothered to pretend to care.

He was lost in the living daydream that was his angel that haunted the art studios of Ruskin School of Art.

He was desperate to learn everything about you.

If he asked you to talk about your favorite books, would your eyes sparkle in delight, or would your smile widen in glee?

If he grabbed your hand, would your palms feel marred by his rough skin, or would you press your callouses to his?

If he pressed his mouth on yours, would your lips feel as soft and plump as they look? Or was their luster forever damaged by your teeth biting them whenever you were in deep concentration?

If he breathed in your scent at the crook of your neck, would your skin smell like the paints forever on your brushes or the musky pages of heavy ancient books you always carried in your arms?

If he planted kisses from your throat to your breasts, would you mewl in pleasure or whimper in anticipation?

If he touched your cunt, would you arch your back in ecstasy? Or would your legs crumble, and you would have no choice but to sink into his arms?

Felix’s thoughts were rudely interrupted when Farleigh jammed his bony elbow into his ribcage and hurriedly whispered.

“Look alive, Golden Boy.”

Looking forward, it was better than any of his wet dreams combined. It was you.

Your hair was loose, and your fists were clenched. You reminded him of a ferocious lion goddess with how focused your gaze was on him.

But before Felix would prepare himself to make a good impression, you walked behind him and grabbed the back of his shirt collar before fucking dragging his ass out of his seat and outside.

Bloody hell, for someone so much shorter than him, you were fucking strong.

When you finally released your grip, he fell on the ground like an idiot before he tried to stand and steady himself as quickly as he could.

“Hey, what the fu –”

You didn’t let him finish as you brought your fist to hit him square in the face – and, fuck, you might have actually broken his nose.

After staggering back, you started using the spiral notebook in your other hand to land blow after painful blow on his body.

“YOU. STUPID. FUCKING. INGRATE –” Each word that left your mouth was emphasized with another hit from your notebook “– I. HATE. YOU. YOU. RUINED. MY. PAINTING. I. SPENT. SO. MUCH. TIME. ON. IT. AND. NOW. I. CAN’T. GO. HOME. FOR. BREAK. BECAUSE. OF. YOUR. STUPID. SELF!”

Felix was confident you had more to say, but you were pulled off him by your friend – he’s pretty sure it’s Mitchell – by the waist with you kicking and screaming out profanities to him as your friend called out your name to try to calm you down.

He wondered what it said about him if he told anyone how much you looked like an angry cat. His parents would send him to a shrink if he told them how adorable he found you right now.

If you were this wild while fighting, he could only imagine how riled up you would get in bed.

Fuck, you might have just unlocked a new kink in him.

Catching his breath as he watched your friend drag you away into the distance, he heard a slow clap to his left.

Farleigh was leaning on the corner – his smug expression making it clear that he had seen the whole thing – as he looked at his cousin with a bemused expression before walking toward him and giving a sympathetic pat on his back.

“Well,” he started to break the tension, “at least you know her name.”

“Yeah,” Felix agreed, “I know her name.”

And he knew that you smelled more like the paints on your brushes than the books you carried with subtle notes of gardenias.

Tagging: @aemondsbabe, @ethereal-athalia, @aphroditesmoon, @barbiedragon, @valeskafics, @lexyysworld, @punkiwiki, @saltburnedme, @arcielee

Let me know if you want to be tagged for future Saltburn fics!

[vonlycaonwife]

Could I request Nicole and Harumasa finding their lover hugging a bangboo version of them?

I want-no, NEED a Harumasaboo plush

Considering what I know about Haru's trust story, I gave this a small change. Same vibes though for what you requested!! I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: spoilers for Haru trust story, spoilers for main story if you haven't done the part before chapter 5

Honestly she doesn't have much of a problem with you cuddling with Amillion a lot. At least that's what she tells everyone.

In reality she's absolutely side eyeing it whenever you give the bangboo just a little bit too much attention. She won't say anything, but she will push herself closer and all but vocally demand attention.

Amillion isn't normally used to a lot of affection, at least from others beside Nicole, so she's just hogging all the attention and loving it.

It's a funny sight to behold for anyone who sees it. You treating Amillion like her namesake, Nicole huffing and puffing before being placate with a kiss, and Amillion herself getting swarmed with affection by both parents.

Because yes my friend, she now sees you as her second parent and no one can change that. Nicole doesn't help either by immediately going along with it.

At least you have both girls protecting you from scammers? Though you still get scammed by them but with affection in this case.

You know, when Harumasa first commissioned someone to make some customized bangboos based on him and his coworkers. He only did it to get over the trauma he had over turning into one in the simulation. But now he's starting to regret it, immensely.

While at first he was happy that Asaboo was there to give you company while he was working, he's seriously starting to get pissed off at how…clingy it was.

For example, whenever he was aiming for some “much needed emergency cuddles” (in his words) to “cure his sickness”, as he would begin to get closer the bangboo would immediately push him away to cling onto his partner!

It doesn't help that it also mimics his sick act! “E-Ehn eh-na…(T-Too sick)” “Oh you poor baby.” “Baaaaabe, I'm sick too~” “Oh, lemme-” “E-Eh-na! *cough* Na! Na! (N-No! *cough* Stay! Stay!)” “Awww, okay okay.” “Hey!”

He knew he was a bit possessive, but he doesn't think he's this bad! The thing is practically glaring at him all the time when you're not looking as well. So of course he's gonna glare back. “Haru, stop glaring at the poor thing.” “He started it!” “Ehn-na! (Liar!)”

It's honestly gotten to a point where he has to lock the thing in one of the rooms to prevent it from disrupting on alone time with his partner. “Haru, it's crying and coughing.” “It's just faking babe.” Crash! “Uh…Haru-” “ARE YOU SERIOUS?!”

Part of him wants to apologize profusely to his coworkers for having to deal with himself now that he's on the other end of the act.

[5eraphim]

Okay so this has been stuck in my head for WEEKS and I finally decided to stop bein scared and ask you to write about it lol

So as a DBD player, I got to thinking that it would be kinda cool if survivors could fight the killer even if it was just once per round and then this scenario popped into my head.

How would Killer react to Survivor!Reader biting them as a defense/distraction/etc? My favs are The Shape, The Executioner, and The Mastermind! Headcannons would be amazing but if you could maybe branch out to make one a one-shot kinda deal? Maybe NSFW if you feel spicy?

P.S your writing and fics LITERALLY give me life YOU’RE SO GOOD 😭🧡

My deepest apologies for how long this has been rotting in my inbox, I thought this prompt was a lot of fun, and again, I'm sorry it took forever for me to get around to answering this. Hope you enjoy all the same!

Characters: Michael Meyers, Albert Wesker, Pyramid Head (Dead By Daylight)

Rating: R (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, GO PLAY OUTSIDE!!)

Content Warnings: Yandere, smut, noncon, stalking, choking, violence, sacrificed to the entity, predator/prey dynamics, obsession, sadism and masochism, reader is kept gender neutral

Word Count: 1.6k

MASTER LIST

TIP JAR

The Shape

It's almost too predictable for a killer like Michael Myers to wind up in a situation like this. As the survivor he brought with him into the entity's realm made physical payback, her signature, Micheal can't help but attract the "feisty" type.

A man hiding behind a mask, Michael competes with fierce determination and an almost primal compulsion to hunt, stalk, and slaughter like no other. Of the three, Myers would be the most likely to anticipate physical retribution from a survivor, according to him, all part of the hunt. 

Myers prefers to remain hidden by shadows as long as possible, awaiting his perfect opportunity to go in for a decisive kill. But remaining hidden in the dark is a luxury you don't have at your disposal on account of being Myer's obsession.

You didn't want it to come to this. Even before the match started, you prayed to fight any killer, but Myers, your disappointment only grew as you realized minutes later that you were his obsession.

The idea of fighting back physically was a spur-of-the-moment decision; you knew you only had one chance of pulling this off, and if you missed, your fate would be sealed. You usually weren't one to opt for such a risky strategy, but you were too blinded by your fear of Myers. You would do anything to get away.

Even though you couldn't see him, you could feel Myers' eyes locked in on you, no doubt following and trailing you from behind. The paranoia was torture, but you forced yourself to stay strong and ignore Myers, to focus solely on supporting your team. 

When Myers inevitably tracked you down and caught you after getting distracted by something else, you had so much pent-up nervous aggression that you couldn't hold back your body's instinct to fight back.

Fear overtook any lingering traces of rationality as you struggled blindly against Myers, but you had just enough determination reserved to take aim and fire a single punch, aiming for his head, landing against the cheek of the mask; it was just enough to disorient him long enough for you to wriggle free.

Despite the offense, Myers didn't think you had it in you to fight back like that. It excited him! As though you were holding back on him before, and now you were starting to fight back like you really meant it!

After enduring the pressure of being his obsession and succumbing to the fear of it all, you little humanity left to hold onto, almost nothing but your primal fight or flight instincts; it was truly a beautiful sight for him to behold.

The next time he cornered you, Myers decided he ought to follow your lead, only instead of going for your head, he would go for your throat, not with the knife, but with his hand.

And for just a moment, he'd keep you there. Only needing one hand around your throat to keep your entire body pinned into place on the wall behind you. Wood planks made contact with your back at odd angles, the dull pain radiating up and down your spine as you were face to face with Myers, close enough to hear his breathing behind the mask while he observed your face- knowing you believed he was seconds away from slitting your throat. 

Likely, as Myers holds you in such a compromising position, he takes out all his own pent-up frustrations on you. Leaving bitemarks all over your neck and shoulders while he quickly shreds the clothes from your body.

Just as you gave into primal fight-or-flight instincts, he was giving into his own primal urges. He'd won the hunt, and now it was time to let his libido take charge. Half-undressed, he ruts against you, and you can hear his heartbeat racing. Maybe even feel his body warming as his blood flows rapidly, but he remains as silent as a corpse.

After having his fun, Myers will take great pleasure in sacrificing you to the entity. Even if he couldn't take down everyone on your team before this, the opportunity to sacrifice his obsession in such a thrilling bloodbath overshadowed any regular trial as a ruthless killer. 

The Mastermind

It wouldn't take more than an instance of fighting back physically against him for Wesker to decide to hunt you down right away. He would've never suspected another survivor would be bold enough to try something like this on him. Wesker wants to know what makes you think you're strong enough to try something like this.

His reaction would be determined primarily by what point in the trial you try this.

Albert might think it's insufficient enough to ignore if it's early or if he's doing well.

But given how infamous of a hothead he can be, more often than not, any time you try this, expect to be met with hostility.

Wants to see you go from physically resistant to begging him for mercy. On the outside, he pretends to see brats like you as nothing but a petty annoyance to be dealt with, but on the inside, he absolutely loves doing this; keeping the weak in check is how he stays strong.

Wesker doesn't exactly get any legitimate pleasure from being hurt, but he will tap into the pain when fighting back. He does this partly out of loyalty and obligation to the entity but equally out of a petty vengeance to hurt you back twice as hard as you hurt him.

Wesker waits patiently before fighting back, taking care of those annoying teammates first to give you his undivided attention. As well as strategically lying in wait after the confrontation before striking while your guard is down. 

The very first thing Wesker does after tracking you down is wounding you exactly where you hurt him, though he's sure not to let you go until he's drawn blood.

Don't expect him to show you any mercy from here. Might go as far as pushing you down, wiping his shoes against your back as you writhe below, trying to squirm out from under his boot.

It's good foreplay for him, seeing the foolish survivor who dared to fight back, bleeding and barely alive. He won't fuck you in the muck for his own sake, of course. Wesker will push you up against a wall face first while he is taking you from behind.

If he's feeling especially good after sweeping a trial, he might leave you with just enough life to hold onto while you crawl to the hatch. More likely, you won't live long after such a brutal session. But even if you don't die, Wesker will be sure to leave you so beaten and tormented you'll regret trying to fight him like that and won't want to try again. Even if Wesker secretly hopes you will.

The Executioner

While the others welcome the resistance, even if only to crush it, Pyramid Head would likely resent you for trying to physically challenge the killer and disrupt the natural order of things. It was an injustice, and it was imperative to punish you for this.

Imagine playing as a "Gen-Jockey" survivor, the kind of teammate who provides the bare minimum to the rest of the team, putting your own survival above the lives of your teammates, the type of survivor Pyramid Head hated the most. A coward.

All that to say, it was an extreme shock after he cornered you and felt your teeth sinking into the exposed flesh above his glove. 

While you were combative and aggressive now, Pyramid Head knew you couldn't keep this up forever. You were, to him, nothing but a coward deep down. Even if you wanted to pretend like you had any real fight of your own, it wouldn't be long before you surrendered to your own exhaustion. Perhaps he was even doing this as his way of offering you a "fair shot" to find your way out before he got his hands on you. Like he would ever let that happen.

Since you tried to bite him earlier, he'd punish you by fucking you from behind, bent over a broken desk crushing your face against the hardwood surface. He was an inescapable force while you were powerless to stop any of this from below.

Would only give into his beastial nature to hurt and fuck you if he's already managed to kill the rest of your team. It's not his style to slaughter his obsession until he's taken care of the others, and he doesn't want to let anyone pass by without judgment.

If he doesn't get this opportunity during the trial, Pyramid Head will fantasize about killing you off last while staying buried inside you, feeling your pathetic body crumbling and going limp beneath him.

Paradoxical feelings of sadism and protectiveness for you as Pyramid Head is obsessed with being the only one alloweed to hurt you, judge your soul, or torture you. But all this cruelty is undermined by his motivation to keep you from getting hurt by others.

He is most likely to let you live after making love because the instant gratification of an orgasm, as well as the satisfaction of punishing you himself, will keep him from sending you up to the entity. 

Consider this Pyramid Head's very niche kind of post-nut clarity.

[roguelov]

OKAY BUT IMAGINE;

Becoming Morpheus's safe space or his emotional support human. Like one day you're walking through the Dreaming and you find Morpheus, who is completely overwhelmed with his feelings and is hiding from everyone. So you, who has been completely nervous and a little intimidated by him bc he's literally an Endless, go up to him and hug him without hesitation. You comfort him without asking any questions or trying to get him to talk about it. You just let him feel with no judgement.

Que to like maybe a couple weeks or months later where Morpheus just constantly seeks out your touch for comfort. Like will literally cross a whole room just to touch you no matter whoever is there or wherever you two are. He just automatically relaxs at the touch and he also like to see the light blush that appears on your face because despite how normal the touching is by now, he still makes you nervous in a butterflies in the stomach type of way.

OH MY GOD MY HEART IS MELTING AT THIS I DIDNT KNOW I NEEDED THIS UNTIL YOU SAID IT

You were in the library assisting Lucienne with reorganizing all the new books. The two of you were talking about anything and everything. It was calm, and enjoyable.

Until such a peace was interrupted.

Hasty footsteps cut through your melodic conversation. You both turned your head to find Morpheus marching through the library. His eyes determined and somewhat harsh as each of his steps were filled with a near righteous purpose. He seemed to be on some personal - and dare you say important - mission. As if, he was trying to locate something, or someone.

Morpheus’s eyes flickered over to you. Instantly, he beelined it directly towards you. Once within your grasp, he hugged you from behind.

Someone. He was trying to find someone, and that being you.

You tensed up, feeling your heart skip. His arms tightened around your waist as he pressed his forehead into your shoulder. He let out a deep long heavy exhale as some internal weight lifted off of him.

Lucienne bit back a smile. You glanced at her with wide eyes, feeling a heat rise to your cheeks. She knew of your small crush on the Endless, a secret she swore to keep. “I will finish later, there are other things I must do,” she said with a slight playfulness in her voice.

You wanted to call out to her, to tell her not to go, but all those words died on your lips. Once she disappeared from sight, you let out a small sigh. She will give you grief later.

“Apologies,” Morpheus murmured, still clinging to you. You tensed at the soft hypnotic timbre of his voice. “It has been a … difficult morning.”

With each passing second, the stress continued to melt off of him. How could one hug, one touch from you, calm him so immensely?

“It’s ok,” you tried to keep your voice steady. “Just took me a bit off guard.”

“Should I -“ he slowly removed his arms.

“No,” you blurted out. “It’s fine, really. You just looked so … so … angry earlier, I didn’t know what you were going to do.”

Morpheus sighed, returning his arms around you grateful for it. “Again, I am sorry if I alarmed you.”

“Please you don’t have to apologize. If I can bring you any kind of comfort then I’m happy to help.”

His arms gave you a small squeeze, almost as if in a silent thank you. “You truly are a wonder to behold,” he whispered.

Your heart fluttered at his touching words. “How so,” you asked with a giddy smile as you placed your hands over top of his.

“You can always calm my chaotic emotions.”

You turned your head slightly to peer at him from the corner of your eye. All you saw was his messy ruffled hair. You leaned your head towards his, and lovingly rest it against his. “Always happy to help,” you whispered softly into his hair.

Morpheus was thankful to have hid his face, for he knew if you looked at him you could see his unspoken love for you. A mortal who went from stranger to confidante. His dear mortal whose words and touch can assuage any turmoil within him. His infatuation that held his heart in a way he could not comprehend. His love who he hoped would stay by his side when he gathered the courage to ask.

“Thank you,” he mumbled.

Thank you for everything.

“Of course, I’m always here for you,” you hummed.

[djarincore]

Down by the River

summary: Gale accidentally finds you bathing in the river.

pairings: Gale x reader

word count: 1k

tags: suggestive themes, nudity, fluff

a/n: am I a weirdo for loving the trope where someone finds a beautiful maiden bathing in a river and is entranced by the rivulets of water tracing down the curve of her spine??? I dunno....

Wyll's version

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

All Gale wanted was a refreshing bath. Gods, he missed his warm baths in his tower back in Waterdeep where he would have a good book in one hand and another cradling a fine glass of wine. 

Alas, such luxuries could not be afforded on the road with mind flayer parasites burrowed in his skull. 

When he found the slow, winding river, he halted upon hearing a low melodic hum. He would have thought it were harpies again with their hypnotic melody if not for his own eyes. 

There—back turned to him, just toeing the edge of the river, completely bare—was you.

The full moon washed your body in a soft, ethereal light, reminding him of the intimate magic lesson you shared. The way the Weave shrouded you in a soft glow. He recalled how bright your eyes looked as magic danced around you for the first time. The soft caress of hands as they met and lingered at your sides. How you imagined kissing him before the magic fell away all too soon. 

Your toes grazed the crystal shore, rippling the gentle current, to test the water's temperature—cold, from the way your body tensed and a soft gasp disrupted your soothing hum. 

Gale could not move—could not breathe—as heat swam through his body and rose to his cheeks. Your hums continued as you slipped into the water slowly, completely unaware of his presence so far. 

It was wrong of him to be here, watching you in a quiet moment of peace and completely vulnerable. He would not break your trust, not when he already found himself holding you so close to his heart. 

Unfortunately for Gale, his departure was not as silent as his arrival. A cursed stick snapped beneath his feet when he backed away. 

The noise alerted you, who snapped around and attempted to cover yourself with your hands. Your arms pressed tightly against your breast and your legs were positioned sideways to cover your lower half. 

“Who's there?!” You demanded, voice quivering. Your eyes scanned the forest to find a figure attempting to slip into the bushes. But, you recognized those purple robes. “Gale?”

“My apologies,” he called back, sheepishly, raising his hands in surrender. The blush on his cheeks grew hotter now that he was caught. This was dangerous territory for a man who had a sensitive bomb in his chest. “I-I promise you, I didn't mean to find you here.”

Your gaze fell away to the water at your feet. “You came to bathe?”

“Yes! Though I'm sure I can find a suitable spot elsewhere. It's a long river, after all. Though I’m certain I won't find any more beautiful nymphs there,” he rambled. He didn't know how to stop.

Your eyes were wide when you looked at him again, a shy smile pulling at the edge of your lips. 

He cleared his throat and turned his gaze to the sky. “I’ll leave you to it.” 

He turned, prepared to leave and berate himself for making a fool of himself, but stopped when he heard you call after him.

“Wait, Gale! Y-You don't need to leave.” You sounded as nervous as he felt. “Stay.” 

How could he ever ignore one of your requests?

Shedding his clothes seemed like a blur and suddenly he was just as bare as you, standing at the edge of the river. 

You had turned away as he stripped and sunk deeper into the river, chest deep now, busying yourself with washing up. Your hand ran along your opposite arm and up your shoulder. 

Gale watched, mesmerized by the curves that your hand danced along. You were beautiful, enchantingly so—a true goddess to behold. 

He slipped into the chilling waters, a safe distance away from you. He hoped you weren't uncomfortable. You hadn't looked at him since you asked him to stay. The two of you bathed in silence, backs turned to one another. 

After a while, you said, “I never thanked you for that magic lesson. It was wonderful.”

Pride burned through his body as he smiled. “You had an excellent teacher, after all. But, you were a wonderful student too.”

He dared to turn his head, just to look at you from the corner of his eyes. You were already facing him. There was always kindness and compassion in your eyes that never failed to draw him closer to you. The way you looked at him—he felt seen. It was almost too much sometimes.  

His eyes followed the slow rivulets of water that slid down your neck and further down your chest. 

“I was… glad to share a moment of magic with you,” he confessed when his eyes returned to yours.  

“I hope that lesson wasn't the last.”

“Of course not! I’d be more than happy to show you more illusory magic. We can start with a simple spell I learned when I was young. Tara taught it to me in fact.” 

Gale failed to notice you inching closer as he went on about what he would show you next—he was getting lost in his own words. He only slowed to a stop when your hand lightly brushed against his underwater. His fingers tensed before relaxing and allowing your fingers to drift along his knuckles. 

You uttered his name softly and he couldn’t help the hitch in his throat. “I hope we get more than just a moment.”  

Before he could respond, you leaned forward and kissed him. Your lips pressed against his, slow and careful, but it was over before there was time to properly savor the feeling. You pulled back, your hand still resting on his. 

“Sorry,” you said sheepishly. “I should have asked before doing that. Are you okay?”

Gale nodded, feeling all sense slowly coming back. For the first time in more than a year, he felt wanted. “More than okay.”

There was a hunger growing in his chest, he realized, but it didn't yearn for magic.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

a/n: im not entirely happy w this but i might revisit it one day :)