#but HERE?? i can have the confidence to help her move on from miles over and over again bc YIPPEE for timelines and shipping hehe )

[dreamrcven]

my brain yelling at me that while i love masuyo and her tragic love for miles, i want her to find love again and learn to move on... cough cough aka please ship with me cough

[covenofagatha]

The Mile High Club

Jennifer Barkley x reader

When flying back to Washington, DC with your boss, Jennifer Barkley, she comes up with an interesting way to relax when there's some turbulence

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: fingering, semi-public sex

“Ugh, why are there so many people here?” your boss, Jennifer Barkley, scoffs when the driver drops you off at the Indianapolis airport. 

After spending the last six weeks in Pawnee, Indiana on Bobby Newport’s campaign for city counsel, you and her are finally getting to go home back to Washington, DC. It’s been the first time in her career that she’s lost a campaign, but even she has to admit that Leslie Knope and Ben Wyatt did a really good job. 

It was the most engaged in a campaign you’ve ever seen Jen, the most challenged, and you’ve been working with her for about a year now. It was exciting to watch her strategize like this, hot even. You’ve always had a thing for powerful, older women, and that was the definition of Jen Barkley. She oozes confidence and she’s not afraid of how good at her job she is. 

The two of you have a pretty good relationship — you’re actually the longest assistant she’s ever had, so clearly you’re doing something right. The easy banter between you is one of your favorite parts of the job. 

You glance at her as you take her suitcase out of the trunk and then yours, putting them on the ground and groaning with the effort. She’s wearing a navy blue blazer over a striped pink and gray button-down, with a gray pencil skirt, her signature string of pearls around her neck. Her brown hair is perfectly fluffed and curly, with makeup accentuating her lips and eyes. She looks good. 

“Well, I offered for us to fly out of the Pawnee airport, but you said, and I quote, ‘I don’t trust Pawnee to have planes that aren’t just tiny steel death in the sky—’”

“‘— that will fall apart if you breathe too loudly,’” Jen finishes with a chuckle at her own joke at the small town’s expense. She’s been making a lot of them the entire trip. “Yeah, I remember. I just still can’t believe the private jet had routine maintenance scheduled for today and now we have to fly with them. God, if only Knope and Wyatt hadn’t insisted on that recount.” 

By “them,” you know she means normal people who don’t run congressional campaigns for some of the most powerful people in the country and don’t just have access to private transportation whenever they want it. 

And without the recount, Jen and you would’ve been done a few days earlier. You still remember her little meltdown where she collapsed on the table, whining about wanting to leave, and it brings a smile to your lips. 

You roll your eyes fondly and grab both of the handles of the suitcase. “Well, we’re still in first class, so you won’t have to sit with all the peasants,” you tease. 

Jen points at you and moves her finger back and forth for emphasis. “That…that was a good one,” she decides and you can’t help but feel warm with her approval. And then she swats at your hand that is holding onto her bag. “I can wheel my own suitcase, sweetheart.” 

You mutter a half-hearted apology and follow her through the doors of the airport and go to the counter to check your luggage. Jen starts digging through her purse and you raise an eyebrow and wait for her to ask you for something. 

It’s always fun to watch your boss go as long as she can without willingly asking for help, even if you have exactly what she needs. Her tenacity and stubbornness often go hand-in-hand. 

She huffs exasperatedly before looking up and giving you a prize-winning smile. “Honey, do you happen to know where I put my—”

You reach into your pocket and pull out her boarding pass, reaching it out with a smirk. 

“Thanks, doll,” she says and snatches it from you before examining it like you may have given her the wrong one. You always keep an extra copy of all her documents on you at all times, just in case situations like this ever arise. “God, I cannot wait to be home and not sleep in sheets that smell like mothballs.” 

Giggling despite yourself, you think back to the small motel rooms the two of you had to sleep in. “It wasn’t all bad. JJ’s Diner was pretty cute.” 

“Yeah, after I bought them that cappuccino maker,” she retorts. “Everyone there was a moron. Did you know one of them told me they voted for Leslie because I said she was a dog murderer? Another thought I was Bobby’s sister. As if he and I could possibly share any of the same genes. Did you see him try to sound out ‘Connecticut’?”

It makes you snort. People in Pawnee were surely not the brightest. 

“I almost pity Leslie,” she sighs as the two of you move up in line. “You could not pay me enough money to trade places with her. I love my life way too much.” 

You laugh. “That’s good to hear, because I need someone to boss me around.” It’s meant to be a light quip, but there’s no mistaking the innuendo and Jen smirks before looking you up and down. You’re wearing leggings and an oversized T-shirt — nothing special, especially compared to her. But you’d rather be comfortable for the flight, rather than look as professional as you usually do. 

“Don’t worry, hon. I’d bring you with me,” she reassures with a wink and your cheeks heat up, breath catching in your throat. She’s just being nice, you think. You are a good assistant. 

After you check your bags, you walk to the gate with Jen next to you, typing something one-handed on her phone and occasionally bumping into you. Boarding is in about thirty minutes, so you tell Jen you’re going to get something to eat. You end up choosing a soft-serve stand and get her a cup too. 

When you get back to her, she’s now reading a newspaper that she must have bought, and doesn’t look up at you until your arm starts to get tired holding out her ice cream. 

“Well, aren’t you sweet,” she purrs and takes it from you, ignoring the spoon and just licking a stripe straight through the swirl. Your eyes widen — you feel a tug in your stomach and you rush to sit down next to her and think about anything else. 

You busy yourself by scrolling on your phone until it’s time to board, and then you settle into your seat in first class next to Jen. You’ve only flown first class a few times, but you’re not sure you could ever go back to sitting in economy. Your seats are spacious and luxurious, with fancy screens in the backs of the chairs in front of you. There’s an armrest between you and your boss, with a piece that could slide up to separate you, but you make no moves toward it and neither does Jen. 

The flight attendant comes around and gets your drink orders, a coffee for Jen and a hot chocolate for you. She snorts when your drink comes back with a mound of whipped cream and you take a long sip, appreciatively humming when the warmth spreads through your body. 

“Oh, honey, you’ve got a little—” Jen says when you turn to look at her, and you scrunch your eyebrows before she cups your chin and swipes her thumb across your upper lip. 

You freeze and your heart rate spikes. 

When she pulls her hand back, there’s a smear of whipped cream on her thumb. She smirks before sucking it into her mouth, never breaking eye contact. You feel your body get warm and you shiver. 

“Are you cold?” she asks. Before you can tell her that you’re fine, she’s waved the flight attendant over and asked for a blanket. It’s touching to have this badass woman you’re always chasing after trying to take care of you. 

The stewardess brings a heated blanket over and Jen helps you tuck it around yourself despite you muttering that you’re really okay. 

And then the safety video plays on the screen and the plane takes off. You’ve never been great with flying and you try to distract your anxious mind with a movie. 

It works until the plane starts to shake. Your hands fly to the armrests and dig your fingers into them as if that will steady it. It doesn’t; if anything, it just gets worse and a small whimper escapes your lips. 

Jen, who is reading a different newspaper now, glances over at you and must see the panic evident on your face, because she lays a hand on top of yours. “Are you okay?” There’s an uncharacteristic gentleness to her voice and you wonder if she’s going soft from the exhaustion of having been in Pawnee for six weeks.  

“Yeah,” you say through clenched teeth. There’s another rough patch and the plane dips and you sharply inhale. You expect her to laugh, maybe make fun of you, but her eyes are understanding and she starts to stroke her fingers up and down your forearm. 

Is she trying to comfort you? You swallow roughly as her warmth seeps through your skin. “It’s okay,” she coos. “It’s going to be fine.” 

You nod and try to repeat the words to yourself until you believe them, but the plane shakes again and you shudder. “Oh, god,” you whisper, feeling a little sick. Jen is frowning next to you and closes the little cabin door on the aisle, essentially hiding the two of you from view of anyone else. 

“Just breathe. Try to relax, honey,” she says soothingly, and then apparently decides she’s being too nice, because she tosses her hair over her shoulder and huffs haughtily. “Don’t let a bit of wind scare you. There’s so many other things to be more afraid of. Like me, if you don’t relax.” 

It makes you smile a little and your muscles loosen ever so slightly. The turbulence stops and you’re able to breathe normally. 

Seemingly satisfied, Jen turns back to her newspaper and removes her hand off your arm. You miss her touch, but brush it off and start scrolling through the screen to find a movie to watch. 

The plane starts to shake violently and a terrified gasp slips out of your lips, hands scrambling for purchase and your legs tensing against the seat in front of you. This is it. 

You can practically hear Jen roll her eyes and she gives you a pointed look. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, breathing heavily. “How are you so calm?” 

Jen shrugs. “I’m exceptional,” she states matter-of-factly. Her fingers reach over to lay on your forearm again and you’re able to feel yourself relax. Just slightly, but she feels it too. “Is that helping?” she murmurs. 

“Yeah,” you rasp and she smirks. 

Her fingers trail up your arm and then back down, and slide into your lap and ghost over your thigh. All the air leaves your lungs. “Do you want some more help?” 

Surely she can’t be offering what you think she is. But there’s not a single hint of jest on her face with her eyebrow arched and her pupils blown out. “Jen—” you swallow, your mouth suddenly so dry. 

“You can say no,” she reminds you. She lifts her hand off the blanket and hovers over it, showing that she’ll accept whatever you say. 

But you couldn’t even dream of rejecting her. “Please,” you say, voice suddenly full of heat, and your boss looks absolutely overjoyed. 

She drags part of the bunched up blanket covering the lower half of your body over herself, so if anyone were to look over the top of the cabin when she sneaks a hand under the cover and rests it on your leg, they wouldn’t be able to see. 

The plane rocks and dips, but you couldn’t care less because Jen has just dipped into the waistband of your leggings, her cold hands making you hiss. 

“Why don’t you put on a movie?” she suggests, her hand moving lower and cupping you over your underwear. You can feel yourself starting to get wet and you nod, tapping on the screen and clicking on the first thing it opens to. The film starts, but Jen’s fingers have found your clit and you can think of very little else. 

She rubs around it for a bit, teasing and feeling the crotch of your panties grow wetter while you squirm and try to get more stimulation. 

“You got to stop being so obvious, honey,” she whispers, ducking her head down to scrape her teeth against the top of your ear before nibbling on your lobe. You can’t stop the small moan that escapes you and she presses down on your clit. “Do you want the flight attendants to come over and see what a slut you’re being?” 

Heat tears through your body and you clench around nothing. You’d like to point out that this was all her idea, but you don’t want to risk her pulling away to teach you a lesson for talking back, which is exactly what Jennifer Barkley would do. 

So you shake your head and try to act like you’re watching the movie, but your eyes keep straying down to the blanket. 

She tuts lowly in your ear before sliding your underwear to the side and you jump when her fingers trace through your folds. “God, you like this a lot, don’t you,” she observes, amusement leaking into her voice. You blush and nod, softly whimpering when she teases your clit without touching it. 

“Jen, please, I need you,” you whine, and she chuckles humorlessly before pushing a finger inside you. She’s met with absolutely no resistance, and your walls bear down around her immediately, drawing a small gasp from her mouth. You’re vaguely aware of the sound of the drink cart coming down the aisle. 

She doesn’t move at first, just enjoying the feeling of you being around her, and it isn’t until you choke out another plea that she starts to slowly withdraw and then thrust back in. 

The flight attendant comes into view over the cabin walls and by the looks of it, she’s about two rows ahead of you. Your head tilts toward Jen, who is already watching you, a wicked glint in her eye. Her thumb expertly rubs at your clit while her one finger fucks you at a leisurely pace. It’s not enough to get you there, but the possibility of being caught and the way Jen’s eyes are burning into your face, watching every little twitch, are helping build the tension in your stomach. 

The stewardess stops at the row in front of yours and if she looked to her right just a little, she would see your knuckles straining as your fingers grip the armrests to try and stop yourself from reacting. 

“Better behave, honey,” Jen whispers dangerously, tongue flicking out against your earlobe. It makes you shiver and clench around her finger. “Don’t want her to know how naughty you’re being right now.” 

She smirks at your muffled whimper and finally gives your clit the direct stimulation you’ve been looking for and you have to clamp a hand over your mouth to stop any other noises from crawling out. 

The flight attendant pushes the cart forward and pauses, looking at you and Jen over the cabin door with a warm smile. Jen pulls her finger out of you and you bite your lip at the sudden emptiness. 

“Hi ladies, can I get you anything else?” she asks, looking at Jen first. 

“Oh, I’m perfect, thank you,” Jen gushes, and then turns to you. You can feel both Jen and the flight attendant’s eyes on you. 

You nod in agreement and open your mouth to answer, but Jen chooses that exact moment to shove two fingers inside you, and you’ve never heard the sound that comes out of you before. You see her stifle a laugh in your peripheral vision and you plaster what you hope is a convincing smile onto your face, but probably looks more like a grimace. “I’m good,” you squeak. 

Jen’s fingers curl roughly and your hips jolt. 

The flight attendant looks like she wants to say something, but purses her lips tightly and moves on. The second she’s out of earshot, Jen laughs cruelly in your ear. “That was close, honey,” she mocks and scissors her fingers to stretch you out and you hiss. “Do you think she knows that you’re taking my fingers like such a good slut? That this was the only way I could get you to relax?” 

She presses her thumb against your clit and starts to thrust into you fast and you have to bite down on your hand to keep from crying out. The pleasure starts to spread from your pussy to your stomach to all over and you feel your orgasm building. 

“Jen, I — please, fuck,” you groan when she twists her fingers. Your hands are scrambling for purchase on the armrests, hips rolling as much as they can, and you can feel your head start to spin. 

“God, hon, your cunt feels so good around me,” she says conversationally and your head falls back against the seat, clenching violently. “So warm, so wet. Think I might have you ride my fingers while I have to sit in all those boring meetings.” 

Your whimper is one of a wounded animal and she grins, flashing her perfect teeth at you. It turns you on even more, how perfectly composed she is, while you’re a fucking mess in the chair next to her, a few miles above the ground, in a plane where you could get caught at any moment. 

“Please, I’m so close,” you beg quietly, one of your hands clasping onto hers over the blanket. You can feel her muscles move as she thrusts into you and you gasp, heat searing through you. 

Jen leans over and nudges your head to the side with her own before sucking on your neck. You keen softly and your chest rises and falls rapidly, your orgasm steadily approaching. 

You slouch down even further in your seat so that her fingers can reach deeper inside you and it makes your eyes roll back in your head. “So good,” you whisper and Jen huffs in agreement. 

Her thumb speeds up on your clit and her fingers hits the spot that makes sparks erupt in your cunt each time and you’re so fucking close —

“Cum for me, honey,” she rasps, and it’s strangely what makes you finally cum isn’t the way her fingers curl particularly deliciously when your hips meet her thrust perfectly, it’s not the way her thumb presses harder on your clit when she circles it again, it’s not the way her tongue draws a hot stripe up your throat — it’s the flustered, pink tint in her cheeks and her slightly uneven breathing and the way her eyes dart from yours down to your lips and then back up. 

It’s knowing that she’s affected by you falling apart for her: that's the final nail in the coffin, and your pussy walls spasm around her fingers, pleasure erupting through your trembling body while you sink your teeth into your bottom lip to stop yourself from crying out. 

She fucks you through your orgasm, whispering what a good girl you are, and you finally slump back into your chair, feeling ruined and much more relaxed. 

“Did that help?” Jen asks, wearing a playful smirk. 

You laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of her question. Of course it fucking helped. “Yeah, I’d say so.” And you’d like nothing more than to kiss the smug look right off her face. 

The pilot comes on the intercom and announces that you’ll soon be starting your departure into DC and you breathe a sigh of relief. 

“Thank you,” you say, for getting you through your anxiety and fear about the turbulence, and for fucking you. Something you’ve been wanting since you started working for her. 

Jen knows exactly what you mean and she presses a quick kiss to your forehead. “Anytime.” 

@lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly

[runninriot]

Feel (I Know What You Need)

written for @steddiesmuttyseptember

week 1 prompts: Service Dom, Pillow Princess | rated: E | wc: 4.454 | tags: Pillow Princess Steve Harrington, Service Dom/Top Eddie Munson, Pre Steddie, Hook-Up, Flirting, Teasing, Sex and Feelings, implied Strangers to Lovers | complete fic on ao3

Eddie should’ve stayed at home, shouldn’t have let Chrissy drag him out of the house to go clubbing because look where that got him.

He’s standing alone at the bar, an overprized drink in his hand, watching his best friend having the time of her life after she abandoned him for the cute girl she’s currently kissing in the middle of the dance floor.

And, oh no, don’t get him wrong! He’s not mad at her for leaving him behind to have some fun with a stranger; he’s happy for her. Chrissy deserves to be swept off her feet, to be kissed by a girl that seemed to be genuinely interested in her, maybe not just for tonight.

Because while Eddie has been aware of his sexuality since he was 15 and lucky enough to stick his tongue down both, a girl and a boy's throat in one night for the first time – Chrissy is only now experiencing the benefits of broadening her... hunting grounds.

That’s good for her. Especially after her break-up with that douche Jason – Eddie couldn’t stand him, always knew it would end up in a mess one way or another. He’s glad that guy’s out of the picture.

So, yeah. He fully supports her little make-out session. And he really doesn’t need her to entertain him. He’s good on his own. Knows it’d be easy to find someone else to occupy his time with.

But the thing is-

He's been trying not to do that anymore, to stop picking up random strangers in random places.

Having casual hook-ups is nice and all, but it always feels like something is missing. Like he can’t live up to his full potential because what he craves demands a little more trust, more communication, more ‘getting-to-know-someone’ and that’s just not how one-night stands work.

So, he’s been trying to be good, to hold back and not jump at the next best person that offers him an inviting smile. But then again- Eddie’s a weak man.

He catches himself too late, can’t help but let his eyes roam across the room, scanning the party crowd for potential takers. It's like a sugar rush, addictive in a way, fuel for his ego - and see, the thing is, Eddie's good at flirting, good at reading people to know what they're after.

Like pretty boy over there, for example. Doing his slutty dance moves; fingers seductively gliding across his mesh-covered upper body, touching his face, stroking through his own hair – confident, horny. He’s good-looking and he knows it, knows he’s got eyes on him, not just Eddie’s.

Eddie can practically hear the girls to the guy’s right gush about him when he sees them giggle and blush while daring to turn their heads every now and then. And there, watching him closely from the left corner, licking his lips like a greedy snake when the guy on the dance floor sways his hips to the beat, is a dude that probably thinks he’s hot shit with his gold chain around the neck and too much gel in his hair.

But neither of them have a chance, because it’s Eddie, who catches his attention when he opens his eyes and stares right at him before making his way over to the bar that’s conveniently also where Eddie is.

This is almost too easy, really.

Eddie can read him like an open book; the yearning in his eyes is visible from miles away and his body language is speaking volumes. Eddie knows exactly what that guy wants and this could be his lucky night because-

Eddie's suddenly feeling generous.

-----

“Never seen you here before,” pretty boy says as he leans over the counter, waiting to get the bartender’s attention.

Eddie doesn’t hide the way he’s checking him out head to toe, eyes lingering where the guy’s bent over the edge of the counter with his juicy behind on display, hugged by a tight pair of shorts that’s sitting dangerously low on his hips, revealing a sliver of bronze tinted skin dotted with moles.

Everything about pretty boy’s outfit screams ‘easy to get’ but he can see in in his eyes that it’s all part of an act.

That guy is anything but easy. He’s the type of person that wants to be conquered – you either prove you’re worth his attention or he won’t grace you with more than a derogatory look.

Eddie is so up for the challenge.

   “First time,” he answers curtly, hiding a smile in his glass when he finishes his drink. “Not my usual crowd.”

He’s feigning disinterest while already undressing the guy in his mind, throwing away any half-hearted intention to stay alone tonight.

The guy’s too pretty to be left unsupervised. Someone needs to keep an eye on him, make sure he’ll get home okay.

There are too many creeps just waiting for a delicate little thing to cross their paths, ready to sink their dirty fingers into places they do not deserve to stain with their greedy hands. They’d only cut themselves on his sharp edges anyway.

Eddie, on the other hand, knows how to take care of a beautiful rose with thorns, wouldn’t mind a few scratch marks as a reward for his efforts.

Without looking away from him, Eddie lifts two fingers – the petite brunette behind the bar has been eyeing him up all evening, he knows she’ll see him.

Sure enough, not a minute later, two drinks are placed in front of pretty boy whose eyes widen when Eddie grabs one of the glasses and silently offers him the second with a nod.

   “Impressive,” the guy snickers while rolling his eyes, trying not to give away how much it bothers him that Eddie managed to get him served that easy. “I’m Steve.”

He doesn’t offer his hand but instead, straightens his posture and turns to fully look at Eddie, giving him an obvious once over.

   “Eddie.”

   “So, what brings you here? You said this isn’t your usual crowd.”

Eddie’s eyes flick over to where Chrissy is dancing arm in arm with her girl and he smiles to himself when he turns his focus back to Steve.

   “Guess I just wanted to try something different.”

   “And? Was it worth it?”

Steve holds his gaze and Eddie could probably get lost in the other guy’s hazel eyes. But he’s a man with a plan and he’s getting tired of their pointless conversation.

Time to cut the chase.

   “Music sucks,” he says, leaning just a little bit closer, “but I sure had a fun time watching the dance floor.”

He doesn’t miss the bob of Steve’s Adam’s apple when he swallows roughly, imagines what it would feel like to follow the movement with his tongue.

   “Yeah? Saw something you liked?”

Steve inches closer almost as if he doesn’t realise it, eyes still transfixed on Eddie.

   “Still do.”

-----

continue reading here

[raineandsky]

#139

“Let him go,” the supervillain growls.

The hero is smirking at him from where she’s holding the villain in a vice-like grip. “Or what?”

The supervillain lurches for the hero and she swings easily out of the way, pulling the villain with her like he’s nothing more than a flap of fabric she simply doesn’t want the supervillain to tear.

The villain can’t say he’s used to being manhandled. He can feel the heat burning on his face as the hero’s hold on him tightens, a hand clamped possessively on his arm as she turns back to the supervillain with a shit-eating grin. The supervillain probably thinks he’s just embarrassed about being caught, and he’d rather keep it that way. The supervillain doesn’t need to know that the villain’s kind of into this.

The hero laughs, bright and loud, and the villain can’t help but admire the confidence. “Your attempt to save your poor comrade is commendable, [Supervillain], but I think I’ve earned this catch,” she says, the arrogant smile clear in her voice, “haven’t I, [Villain]?”

The very thought of their little battle is very clear in the villain’s mind. This certainly isn’t the moment to remember how she grappled with him, and definitely not how she so easily flipped him onto his back.

Maybe she won because he didn’t mind losing to her, but he’s not saying that out loud. He just nods to avoid opening his mouth and letting out any telling sounds.

“You don’t earn my friends,” the supervillain snarls. It’s almost animalistic, this protectiveness. The villain’s finding he doesn’t mind that either. “Now let go.”

The supervillain leaps for the hero again, and she’s so busy preparing her cocky response that she realises too late. She moves out of range, but the supervillain grabs a hold of the villain and pulls him to safety.

The villain practically trips into him with how sudden it is. The supervillain wraps an arm around him protectively, his hold tight, and earnestly asks, “are you okay?”

The villain’s mind is running at a million miles an hour. He thought it was bad enough having a thing for his sworn enemy, but this is different territory entirely. “Yeah,” he manages, though it doesn’t come out as much more than an embarrassing squeak. “Yeah, fine.”

The supervillain nods, once, short, and returns his gaze to the hero. “You’re messing with the wrong guy, [Hero],” he snaps coldly. “Let’s put an end to this.”

The villain can’t say anyone’s ever fought over him. But the supervillain and the hero clash, their insults spat over who deserves him, and he can’t help but revel in it a little. He knows he should help the supervillain—they could bring the hero down together, the two of them, a team—but he’s barely in it anymore. The adrenaline of it all, of the fight and whatever the hell is going on with him right now, has worn him out.

The hero leaps for him before he even realises the pair’s fight has swung in his direction. The supervillain grabs a hold of him as the hero’s blade rests itself against his neck. The three of them stand like that for a moment, the villain painfully aware of everything: the supervillain’s hands, hot on his sides, the hero’s glare intense and cutting. Her chest is heaving slightly, and the supervillain is similarly panting a little, his breath warm on the back of the villain’s neck.

It’s a little much, being in the middle of all this.

“I can arrest him,” the hero offers lightly, “or I can cut him open right here. Up to you.”

“I’ll tear your head clean off before you get the chance to do either,” the supervillain says, his voice grating.

“Uh,” the villain starts haltingly, “do I get a say?”

“Do you—” The hero looks at him like he’s lost his mind, like the idea that he decides what happens to him is crazy. “You know what, yeah. Sure. Would you like to be arrested or would you like to die?”

The supervillain scoffs, but his grip on the villain tightens in a way that’s more telling than words would be anyway. Protective, possessive. Wanting the villain to choose him because that’s the obvious choice.

And the hero, her blade speaking of her need for him in a way her eyes are carefully guarding. A need for him to be in a cell, sure, but he wouldn’t mind if she were there, or if the supervillain was there to blow the wall clean off it and help him escape.

He wishes he hadn’t said anything. It’s a surprisingly difficult question to answer.

The villain laughs, the sound too nervous. “You can arrest me if it means you’re putting me in cuffs and bending me over your car.”

The hero’s face contorts into something that’s not entirely disgust, and the supervillain takes the moment to pull the villain out from under her knife and kick him into a run.

It’s a miracle they get away. The supervillain eventually shepherds the villain into a dark corner of the city to check him over, looking for any signs of injury, his hands gentle against the bruises blossoming under the villain’s clothes.

“Good distraction, saying that to the [Hero],” the supervillain says with a laugh once they start on their way again. He pats the villain’s shoulder proudly, a smile warm on his face. “Really threw her off.”

The villain’s not sure how to say that his little distraction was practically a true statement. That, or that he thinks the same thing of the man walking next to him.

The villain has a lot to process after tonight before he says anything stupid like that, though. So he nods with a light smile and simply says, “Thank you for coming for me.”

“You know I always will.”

And it’s thankfully late enough that the darkness around them can hide the villain’s blush.

[ksbrighton]

A Party to Remember Part 2 [Sonic DC AU]

The Daily Planet was buzzing with the familiar hum of ringing phones, clicking keyboards, and the constant shuffle of papers as reporters darted from desk to desk. The newsroom was a whirlwind of organized chaos, typical for a Friday morning. Amy Rose stood near her desk, her voice animated as she juggled a phone call, scribbling down notes in rapid, messy shorthand.

Miles Prower zipped by, his camera bouncing against his chest. His twin tails twitched with excitement as he weaved through the bustling reporters, balancing a stack of photo prints in his arms. Stressed but energized, he did his best to help Amy and keep the daily operations on track.

At the heart of it all, Knuckles White, the gruff editor-in-chief, stood near his office door, barking orders with the authority of a drill sergeant. His white-gloved fists gripped a rolled-up newspaper, which he waved in the air like a weapon, his deep voice cutting through the newsroom chaos like a hammer through glass.

"Rose! I need that story on Shadow Robotnik’s latest charity scheme on my desk in ten minutes! And where’s Parlouzer? Anyone seen him?" Knuckles growled, his patience visibly thinning.

Still on the phone, Amy threw up a hand in a half-apology, half-dismissal. "Yes, Mr. White, it’s almost done!" She barely paused between notes and the phone call. "Give me a minute—yeah, hold on, I’m getting to that—"

Miles, ever the peacemaker, darted toward Knuckles, nearly stumbling over his own feet. He handed the proofs over, flashing a nervous grin. "He’ll be here, Mr. White. Nikki’s just running... you know... a little late." Miles’s voice held optimism, though deep down, he was unsure of Nikki’s whereabouts.

Knuckles unrolled the newspaper with an unimpressed grunt. "Late again? That hedgehog’s the first one out the door but can’t get to work on time to save his life."

Suddenly, a blur of blue zipped through the front door —thankfully unnoticed by the rest of the newsroom. Nikki Parlouzer, his trademark grin in place, rushed in, trying to appear winded as he did a small jaunt into the room. His quills were slightly ruffled, his tie crooked, and his glasses slightly uneven but his confidence was unshaken.

"Sorry, sorry!" Nikki clumsily dodged desks, weaving through annoyed reporters until he reached Amy's. "Sorry I’m late, Ames."

Amy hung up the phone with an exasperated sigh, her gaze sharp as she turned to face Nikki. "What took you so long?"

Nikki scratched the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact. "Ah... traffic. It was a nightmare."

Amy arched an eye ridge before fixing Nikki’s glasses making him blush. "Traffic? Nikki, you take the train. What kind of traffic did you run into?"

Nikki smiled sheepishly and shrugged. "Foot traffic?"

Amy rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile creeping onto her lips as she headed toward the breakroom for a second cup of coffee. Nikki followed, awkwardly dodging the fast-moving staff, straightening his tie and fixing his quills as he tried to keep pace with her.

"So, what’d I miss?" he asked, flashing his usual charm.

Before Amy could answer, Knuckles stormed over, cutting between the two with a sharp glare. His newspaper jabbed into Nikki’s chest. "What you missed, Parlouzer, is your chance to get started on the story about Robotnik’s fundraiser! It’s his biggest one yet, and you’re already two hours behind schedule."

Nikki’s grin faltered for just a second, but he quickly bounced back, giving a mock salute. "On it, boss! I’ll have it done faster than you can say chili dog."

Amy sighed but couldn’t help a faint smile. "Just make sure it’s done, Nikki. I’m not covering for you again."

Nikki nodded, shooting Amy a grateful look as he hurried to his desk. In the background, Miles rushed by with more papers, matching the newsroom’s chaotic energy. "Glad you could make it, Nikki! We’ve got to get those shots to the press, and Amy’s got a lead on which Metropolis officials are attending the event."

Nikki settled into his chair, spinning around once before stopping to grab a pen—only to feel an envelope in his pocket. "Oh right, I need to—" He was just about to get up when Amy reappeared, placing a mug of coffee on his desk with a teasing smile. "What’s on your mind, Nikki? Besides lousy excuses for being late."

Nikki smiled back, his usual charm flickering as he leaned toward her, holding up the invitation. "What are your plans for Saturday?"

Amy raised an eyebrow, taking a slow, deliberate sip of her coffee. "Asking me on a date, Parlouzer?"

Nikki grinned even wider, rolling his chair a little closer, the usual spark of mischief in his eyes. "Something like that. Wanna accompany me to the Charity Gala?"

Before Nikki could blink, Amy spit out her coffee in surprise. Quick as a flash, Nikki shielded the invitation from the spray, holding it up with a grin. "I’ll take that as a yes."

Amy blinked, then snatched the invitation from his hand, staring at it with wide eyes before looking back at him in disbelief. "Duh, Nikki! How did you get this?"

Nikki shrugged, leaning back casually in his chair. "I know people."

Amy shook her head, smirking as she bent down to wipe the coffee off the floor. "No, Nikki, you don't know people. I know people. Besides, there’s only one person who could’ve gotten you this invitation—and that’s Shadow Robotnik, or his assistant."

Her eyes gleamed with curiosity as she straightened up, still holding the invite. "Don’t tell me you're having a private affair with the playboy billionaire himself."

"WHAT?!" Nikki practically leapt out of his seat, a blush creeping up his cheeks as his voice cracked. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to recover his usual cool demeanor. "No, no, no, it’s not like that!"

“Oh? But you didn’t say you don’t know him…spill it.”

“I don’t know him aaand.” Nikki tried to grab the invitation out of Amy’s hand but she leaned out of the way, making him sit back down defeated a little, “I like to keep an ace up my sleeve.” 

Amy straightened up, her smirk widening as she tapped the invitation against her palm. "Fine, Parlouzer, keep your secrets. But you know, for someone who supposedly doesn’t know him, you got real flustered when I brought up the question."

Nikki froze for a split second, caught off guard by her observation. He quickly flashed his signature grin again, but his laugh was a little shakier than usual. "W-well, I mean, that’s a hefty accusation, ya know? Besides, he’s a handsome guy—who wouldn’t get flustered thinking about him?"

He was practically rambling now, his voice speeding up as he tried to cover his tracks. Amy gave him a slow, suspicious look, raising one eyebrow.

"C’mon, Ames, do you wanna go or not?" Nikki finally blurted, trying to steer the conversation back to safer ground.

Amy didn’t answer right away. She took a sip of her coffee —or what was left of it— her eyes twinkling with mischief as she leaned in just a little closer. "Of course I want to go... but what I really want to know is, should I be jealous?"

Nikki blinked, the color rising in his cheeks again. He opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out at first. "Jealous? Wh—no! It’s not... I mean, it’s not like that!"

Amy just smiled, clearly enjoying his discomfort. "Uh-huh. Sure, Nikki."

Nikki opened his mouth to defend himself, but the familiar booming voice of Mr. White rang out from across the room. "Parlouzer! Rose! Get to work or you’ll be covering the dog show next!"

Amy rolled her eyes before getting up to walk away, fanning herself with the invite.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night then, wear something nice~” She winked and sauntered back to her desk, leaving Nikki sitting there.

As he watched her walk off, Nikki's thoughts drifted, now fully focused on the thought of seeing Shadow—or as he knew him, Bathog. His stomach flipped, not with fear, but with the weight of the secret he’d been carrying for so long. How much easier would things be if Shadow knew the truth? Knew that Nikki Parlouzer was actually Supersonic? Maybe then he wouldn’t always feel like he had to keep part of himself hidden from the brooding hero.

It wasn’t that Shadow had anything against Supersonic—far from it. They fought side by side many times, and there was a strange respect between them. But that didn’t change the fact that Nikki wanted to keep his hero life and his normal life separate. Letting Shadow in on his secret felt like crossing a line he wasn’t sure he was ready for. Keeping his identity hidden wasn’t about fear of Shadow’s reaction—it was about keeping control of what little privacy he had left. In Nikki’s opinion, Shadow had always been Shadow, even before he became Bathog. But for Nikki, it was different—he was Supersonic first and 'Nikki' came after—a persona he had crafted for himself, something that felt more personal. 

Nikki groaned, covering his face with his hands, knowing it wasn’t exactly fair. He knew who Shadow really was even if Shadow didn’t know that. Bathog’s mask didn’t hide anything from Nikki—thanks to his super hearing, Nikki could hear Shadow’s voice in Bathog’s, and their heartbeats were the same. He knew who Shadow was, in and out of the cape. But Shadow didn’t know him that way. And that was the real difference.

“Would he even like me if he did know?” 

As far as Nikki knew, Bathog saw Supersonic as “part of the job”, to Nikki they teamed up out of necessity not choice—even now. But what if he could see his “normal” self as more than that? The chances of their paths crossing outside of hero-ing were slim, but Nikki figured if Shadow ever fell for him, it wouldn’t be as Supersonic.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he mulled over the possibilities. The idea of Shadow not knowing his secret created a wall—one that would always be there, unless he decided to break it down.

Nikki shook off the thought, pushing his glasses up and trying to focus on his newsroom life, not his superhero one. Maybe one day Shadow will know who Nikki really is. “Just…not yet…”

“Who are you talking to?” came a voice over Nikki’s shoulder. He yelped, toppling out of his chair as Miles peeked down at him. “Oh... sorry.”

[I am having a little too much fun with this, my inner DC nerd is genuinely showing. Small fact, in the DC universe there are different ways Superman finds out who Batman is, sometimes its Batman who finds out who Superman is first. But my favorite way is that Superman recognizes Bruce's voice and his heart beat which I thought was oddly romantic lol and it perfectly matched this since I'm basing this fanfic off of @blu-ish 's art where Supersonic knows who Bathog is (seemingly before Bathog I'm assuming). Thanks for reading! Part 3 coming soon! Hopefully you like this part ^^]

[mcumorningstar]

His Muse

pairing: larry durrell x reader

warnings: 18+ minors dni, erotic letters, body worship, oral (f receiving)

summary: after your relatives forbid you from seeing larry durrell, a series of notes begin to appear.

a/n: yes i snuck in an atonement reference🤭

Having relatives on the Greek Island of Corfu lent itself to the most brilliant summers a girl could ask for.

Swimming in the crystal blue ocean, running through the cobbled streets of the town centre, picking fresh fruit at the market and riding donkeys along the beach.

A girl. Not a woman.

The summer of your 18th year you were worked until your bones were sore and your cheeks ached from the forced smiles.

For three consecutive summers, you worked at your auntie and uncle’s bar as a waitress. Men often flirted with you or asked to take you out. Unless you wanted to face the wrath of your uncle, you always refused.

That was until Larry Durrell sidled up to the bar, folding his sunglasses into the pocket of his shirt and placing his book on the bar top.

“Two of your finest whiskeys,” He ordered with a cheerful grin.

After an all-day shift, you simply nodded and retrieved his order, like a well-oiled machine.

“My name is Larry Durrell,” He announced to fill the silence, “I’m an author. Are you native to the island?”

“I moved here two months ago,” You smiled forcefully, too exhausted from the sun and workload for conversation.

“How wonderful! I can show you around if you’d like,” Larry leaned forward onto the bar, a striking smirk across his lips, “I have lived here for almost a year.”

“That won’t be necessary,” You replied, exchanging the drinks for his money.

“Are you sure? I know some excellent spots,” He sipped his drink and raised his eyebrows.

There was an air of confidence surrounding Larry and it was hard not to get sucked into his natural charm.

“What’s your book about?”

He faltered for a moment before sunshine burst from his features and he grinned giddily, “What isn’t it about! I can bring you a copy if you’d like?”

He lit up with hope and so you nodded politely, “Yes but you’ll have to bear with me, I work a lot.”

Larry shook his head, “I wouldn’t worry about that. More reason to visit you.”

Rolling your eyes at him, you couldn’t help but laugh with him.

Larry chanced a look outside where his brother Leslie was sat before reaching over to brush his fingers over yours, “Can I buy you a drink?”

Yes.

Swatting a dish cloth and yelling with a thick Greek accent and broken English (although it was miles better than your Greek), your uncle ran over, “No! She not interested! Go away!”

Larry backed away with a boyish laugh, grabbing his book and rushing across the cobbles with Leslie. Biting your lip, you fought back girlish giggles.

He flashed you a cheeky grin and a small wave before he disappeared around the corner. Your uncle grumbled to himself, wildly gesticulating with his hands.

“He is trouble! He is English! Stay away from him!” He jabbed a finger at you. Ordinarily, he was a lovely and generous man but you were under his care while you were in Corfu.

Nodding, you got back to work, hoping to see Larry Durrell again.

A few days later, a book appeared on the bar top while you were serving customers. There was no sign of Larry other than his name in bold print on the front cover of the novel.

It was hours later that you sat on the beach and thumbed through your new gift when a hand-written note slipped from the pages.

“She walks in beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

And all that’s best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes;

Thus mellowed to that tender light

Which heaven to gaudy day denies.”

The following stanzas were written and attributed to Lord Byron. You didn’t know what most of it meant but a girly giggle fell from your lips as you covered your mouth.

He sent you a love poem. What a gentleman.

After the first note, he began to visit you in the alley behind the bar, only able to steal a few minutes of your time.

More notes began to appear over the following few weeks, either handed to you directly or tucked away for you to find.

“Tell me, my darling. I want to know everything about you.”

“My beautiful, exquisite darling. Starry nights are reminiscent of your glittering eyes.”

“You are part of my existence, part of myself. You have been in every line I have ever read." — Charles Dickens, Great Expectations

Hand-written notes piled up in the box under your bed, and you reread them over and over. Larry was a writer, an artist, and you were seemingly his muse.

Three weeks after your initial meeting, you bumped into Larry in town with his brother.

“Good morning Durrells,” You smiled, offering your hand to Leslie and introducing yourself to him.

Larry smirked at you, “Are you working today? I was thinking about going swimming.”

You nodded disappointedly, “But I finish at 11 if you fancy a night swim.”

Leslie guffawed, “That’s very unsafe. Mother will crucify you!”

Larry sighed with frustration. Leslie grinned, amused by his brother’s obvious affections and embarrassment.

Another note appeared later that night, rolled and sticking to the rim of a beer glass.

“Meet with me. Prepare for a swim.”

Larry smoked a cigarette on the patio of his family home, overlooking the ocean. He smiled when he saw you and pointed towards the path to the beach.

“Hello,” He whispered as soon as you were close enough, “How was work?”

“Tiring but I’m glad to be here… with you,” You whispered back, only raising your voice when you were far enough from the house.

God forbid you wake his family. What a mortifying way to meet them.

“Well then, I will refrain from challenging you to a race to the water,” His shoulder bumped yours, his smile infectious.

“You will do no such thing,” You shoved him and raced off down the beach.

Piles of your belongings were strewn about the beach, as you ran along the stone pier and jumped into the ocean in your underwear.

Larry rose from the water, shaking droplets of water from his curls. Swimming back to shore, he broke the silence, “Don’t ogle me too much when we get out. It’s very cold so I’m not on top form down there.”

You were in a fit of laughter, echoing around the high walls of the cliff.

Wrapping you in his arms, your back to his chest, Larry carried you onto the shore. He laid his shirt out for you to sit on, wrapping an arm around your back.

Although the sky was dark, the warm air brushed against your wet skin pleasantly.

“I finished your book,” You leaned against his chest, staring out at the glistening black water. Larry’s eyes burned into your skull as he awaited your thoughts.

“It was good. Filthy but good.”

Larry’s chest bounced as he laughed, “Leslie thinks I’m obsessed with sex. He once stole the X from my typewriter to stop me writing about it.”

“A fruitless effort, it seems,” You teased.

“I’m not. I write about it, and think about it, and talk about it but I don’t actually do it all that much,” Larry pulled back to meet your eyes.

Nodding, you smiled, “Sounds a little obsessive.”

“Well yes maybe,” He conceded bashfully, returning to your lax position against one another.

“Did you bring a towel?” You were never going to dry off in the moonlight.

Larry clicked his tongue and shook his head, the realisation dawning on him.

Hand in hand, Larry crept into his family home and left you in his bedroom as he went to retrieve towels, dripping salt water onto the floor.

The house was silent and it was slightly eerie, but Larry’s room was lit with a few candles. The warm glow was comforting.

Pages of paper spread across his desk and spilled onto the floor. A fountain pen sat in an inkwell and his typewriter sat pristinely in the centre. Books of all colours and sizes littered the shelves and floor.

Despite your efforts, you couldn’t help but have a closer look. A page of typed words sat in the typewriter, half-finished. Probably for his next novel.

The books beside his bed were a mixture of novels, notebooks and an… erotic poetry book.

Your interest was piqued. His novel was quite filthy so this wasn’t a shock and yet you found yourself thumbing through the pages.

Clippings of notes were hidden between the pages, all hand-written in Larry’s familiar cursive.

“I long to see you. I fear worsening the situation if I pose as a customer at the bar but my skin itches to feel the heat of your skin on mine. I burn for you.”

“Pillowed upon my fair love’s ripening breast, To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,

Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,

Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath, And so live ever — or else swoon in death.” - Keats

“I want to kiss your cunt. Your sweet cunt.”

You failed to suppress a scandalised gasp. The door creaked open and you scrambled to put the notes back in the book.

Larry stared as you put the book back on his nightstand, avoiding his eyes.

There was no hiding your sudden shock. At least he had the decency to give you a sheepish smile.

“Did I mentioned Leslie thinks I’m obsessed with sex?” He attempts to joke, gesturing to the book with pink cheeks.

“I read your novel, Larry. I don’t know why I’m so… surprised.”

Silence stretched between you as you ran the towel over your sopping hair.

“I’ll walk you home.”

Something burned inside of you, igniting an unfamiliar but powerful flame. You reached for Larry’s forearm to halt him but refrained from touching him.

“Have you done that before?” You asked, forcing your eyes to stay on his, anxiously twisting your fingers.

Larry furrowed his eyebrows at you. Taking a breath, you searched through the poetry book and held open the page to show him the last note.

Silence hung in the air to taunt you, as he scanned the page.

“I have,” was Larry’s answer, closing the book and tossing it aside.

The space between you stretched for what felt like miles, and you desperately wanted to reach out to him.

Wordlessly, Larry stepped towards you and tossed your towel onto his desk chair before wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Call me a philandering bastard, a pervert, and this all stops,” He softly spoke, warm breath fanning across your face. Green eyes traced your features for any signs of uncertainty.

Rising onto your tiptoes, you pressed a soft kiss to Larry’s lips. He didn’t react at first, savouring your decision.

He was quick to press his lips firmer against yours, introducing his tongue against the seam of your mouth.

His movements were so slow and sensual, licking into your mouth and kneading the fat of your hips.

Stepping backwards, you pulled him by his shirt to follow, warm bodies pressed together.

“Thought about this, ever since that first day,” Larry whispered hotly against the skin of your neck, kissing along the column of your throat.

Large hands lowered to grab at your ass, as you let your hands wander across the covered planes of his chest and stomach.

“Me too,” You whispered despite your nerves. It was barely audible but Larry pulled back to meet your wanting gaze.

Silently, he watched your features morph into something he had never seen from you. A pout on your lips and your brows pulled together. Want.

Larry kissed you again, passion and heat, as he lowered you onto his bed. The metal bed frame creaked loudly, groaning out in agony, and Larry winced.

“Your family…” You pressed a hand to his chest as he joined you on top of the sheets, pulling you against him. Larry just shook his head.

Warmth emanated from him, as his body covered yours, lying between your spread legs. The soft pass of his fingers brushed your hair out of your face and he kissed you, any thoughts of anything but him escaping your mind.

Larry pulled his shirt off, revealing his surprisingly toned and tanned torso, before urging you to do the same.

Clothes piled on the floor by his bed until you were both in your underwear, caressing warm skin and kissing like you were drunk on each other.

Hovering above you, Larry lowered his mouth to your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin with his teeth before lowering to your chest.

Soft gasps and moans tumbled from your lips at his attentive kisses, unhooking your bra and tossing it away.

His warm tongue circled your nipple, sucking and catching it between his teeth, before moving to the other. Large hands toyed with the seam of your panties, ignoring the desperate squirm of your hips.

Instinctively, you snaked a hand into his black curls and tugged at the strands softly. Larry pulled away with a soft ‘pop’ and gave you a wicked smirk.

His spit-soaked lips continued their descent down your stomach, littering your hipbones with red and soon-to-be purple marks.

“You’re ethereal… my goddess,” Larry stared in awe, resting his chin on the lowest point of your stomach to watch your chest heave, your skin flush and your eyes squeeze shut.

“Larry… please,” You whined, rutting your hips involuntarily and fisting your hand in his hair.

Kissing over the front of your panties, Larry pulled them down your legs and immediately lost them in the tangled bedsheets.

He positioned himself on his stomach between your legs, manhandling each leg over his shoulders.

His warm breath on your inner thighs made you shiver, combing your fingers through his hair.

Without warning, Larry pressed his mouth to your heated skin and licked a stripe from your weeping hole to your throbbing clit.

Plump lips closed around the bundle of nerves and sucked softly, laving his tongue wetly. A loud gasp escaped your lips and you quickly slapped a hand over your mouth, panting deeply.

Larry repeated his movements, gripping your writhing hips firmly to hold you in place as your heels dug into his shoulder blades.

Sweat beaded on your skin and a rush of moans were poorly repressed. A string of spit fell from Larry’s lips, mixing with your arousal, before he resumed his ministrations.

The coil deep and low in your stomach wound tighter and tighter. You struggled to stay quiet, moans and whimpers of his name bouncing off the walls of his bedroom, and Larry was too thrilled to silence you.

Fisting roughly at his hair, you pushed him further against your sex, eliciting deep groans from him that vibrated against you.

One of his hands snaked up your torso, palming your tits before hooking two fingers into your mouth to muffle your cries of pleasure. Lust-darkened eyes watched you fall into a pit of pleasure as he licked and sucked at you.

The band pulled taut until it eventually snapped, your back arching off the mattress.

A loud cry erupted from your chest, muffled slightly by Larry’s thick fingers in your mouth. Your leg straightened over his shoulder and your thighs caged his head at the intense wash of bliss.

With a heaving chest and sweaty skin, you slowly came down from your high. Limply you untangled your hand from his hair and let him pull your legs from his shoulders. You were boneless and pliant beneath him, smiling lazily at him.

Larry smirked, kissing up your body before kissing your lips softly. He lay beside you as you both panted with pleased grins.

His erection tented his boxers but he stared at the ceiling with as much satisfaction as you, wiping his slick-covered mouth with the back of his hand.

Aside from your heavy breathing, silence filled the room until Larry turned his head to face you and you mirrored him, erupting into giddy giggles.

The first man to eat you out and make you cum.

Larry wrapped a strong arm around your shoulders and pulled you against his chest.

He kissed your head softly and whispered, “Satisfied?”

“Very,” You kissed his chest, your breath slowly evening out and your eyelids fluttering shut at the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat.

Larry pulled your leg over his hips, getting into a comfy position cuddled up against the pillows.

Thoughts about leaving before his family discovered you escaped your mind as Larry smoothed a hand up and down your thigh, slowly drifting to sleep.

No matter how forbidden he was, you would be seeing Larry Durrell every chance you got.

[tibby-art]

I’m adoring the Hitman AU. Scar and Cub share a braincell and Grian just looks like she wants to go home and sleep.

I’m curious as to what powers ConVex has. Or what their motives are with Grian. (ConVex trying to corrupt her.)

I've been picturing Cub and Scar's vex powers as being able to transform into a vex form (pale blueish skin, white hair/eyes, wings, fangs, claws, the whole nine yards). The forms allow them to move at lightning speed and fly, making them perfect as silent killers in their roles as hitmen. They're super sneaky and fast.

I think the vex work with pacts as well - if you make a pact with a vex, they're unable to go against said pact. That's how they ended up working for the government as hitmen. I imagine that in their past they were very powerful and corrupt criminals at Concorp (standard protocol for convex in an au i'd say). One day the government catches up to them, and they're given a choice: Go to top-security prison for one bajillion years because you're a dangerous vex criminal OR make a pact with the government and work under them, using your powers for good. So, Cub and Scar are technically here by choice, but their choices were limited. They're bound by a fae contract that they must perform their given duties as hitmen - they bend the rules and find loopholes whenever possible, though. Vex are tricky like that. They'll get ordered to take out a dangerous crime boss, but because you didn't technically specify that you wanted that done today, they took the day off to go golfing. They'll get to it tomorrow :J (The government learns the hard way that when you order Cub and Scar to kill someone you must specify to them not to eat the person because that has happened and that will happen again and everything is terrible)

Grian is in a similar situation, but he was given less of a choice. While Cub and Scar made their own pacts with the vex to gain their powers, Grian's watcher powers are something she did not ask for at all. The Watchers are much more mysterious than the Vex, not a lot is known about them and they're considered almost a myth until Grian shows up. This makes her more dangerous and unpredictable, in the government's eyes. Grian isn't allowed to just walk away and go back to being a normal member of society - nobody knows what he's capable of (not even Grian knows) so the government needs to keep a close eye on her. When she's paired up with Cub and Scar for missions, the vex are ordered to keep an eye on Grian, and step in if things get too dangerous. Cub and Scar think this is BS and they almost pity Grian, deep down, since he's essentially in the same spot they're in but worse. When their pact says to keep Grian from getting too dangerous, they interpret it as, "Well, if we help her figure out her powers, she's more in control and that will make everything safer :J"

I don't think Convex is trying to corrupt her - I think the government is the one being manipulative here. Convex sees it. I think they genuinely want to help her grow and discover new abilities and how to use them. They're Convex, though, so they might not be the best role models lol. I think what they're trying to do is help her get more confidence and more control over her powers. Cub is a scientist who is very good at figuring out how Grian's abilities work, what he can and can't do, the limits of said abilities, etc. and Scar has the most creative and insane ideas on how to utilize watcher powers that it sometimes leads to discovering something brand new. I can picture him being like, ":J Hey have you ever tried using your watcher powers to spy on a specific location from like, fifty miles away" and Grian is like "Scar that's ridiculous that's not how it works" and then she tries it and is amazed when that actually does work. Scar's like ":J yeah I made that up I didnt think it would work Can you spy on Disneyland now"

[ragingbookdragon]

Make Me Sway

1930's TF 141 x Reader

Word Count: 2.6K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: I have so many AUs planned but @temeyes said run with this one so I shall :) -Thorne

**********************************************************************

She wakes with a startle, staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling which turns into an unfamiliar room. Fancy, obviously a wealthy owner, the room’s almost as big as her entire apartment. She sits up and blinks, looking down at herself—still dressed in the clothes she was in last night, save her shoes.

“Finally awake?” Her head swivels to the side to see a young man standing with a calm smile on his face. “Hi, I’m—”

She scrambles off the bed, puts it between them and she looks around for an exit to flee from.

“Woah, calm down, I’m not going to hurt you.”

He takes a step closer, and she reacts, grabbing the lamp from the bedside table, yanking it from the wall and flipping it upside down to use as a weapon. He snorts, trying to hide it and puts on a firm look. “Will you—will you please put the lamp down?”

“W-where am I?” she asks, keeping the bed still between them; she waves the lamp at him. “Who are you?”

“My name is Kyle and you’re here at my boss’s mansion.”

“Where is here?”

“Just a few miles out of New York City. Countryside.”

“Oh, Jesus,” she says in shock and when he takes another step, she waves the lamp and moves to the end of the bed. “Back! Get back!”

Kyle throws his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, easy. I’m not going to hurt you, I swear.”

She looks around the lavish room, it’s green, calming, the wood is cherry, and she breathes in the scent of lavender. “Why am I here?”

“I can’t answer that,” he says and takes a cautious step forward. “But I can get my Captain so he can. He told me to watch you until you woke and take you to him when you did.” He looks at her, deep brown eyes firm but kind, trusting. “I can take you to him, but I need you to put the lamp down before you hurt yourself.” She lets him get close, hands him the lamp. “That’s a good girl. Now—”

He starts talking but she lowers her gaze to the gun sitting in his between his pants and shirt, tucked neatly at his hip; it only takes a split second to decide, and she yanks the revolver from him and points it at him as she backs up and now, he looks even more worried.

“Easy,” he says the word lowly, a warning; looks at her shaking hands. “You don’t even know how to shoot a gun, I reckon.”

“I can learn,” she retorts with a wavering confidence. “I’ve learned a lot by doing in the moment.” She thinks of all the things she’s learned in the nursing ward she’s been in for the last two years.

“Why don’t we—”

The gun aims over his shoulder and a blast rings out in the room as the glass picture on the wall shatters.

“Christ!” he shouts, ducking. “Are you fucking mad! You could’ve fucking shot me!”

“No, but I’m sure I still have a few rounds in the chamber,” she replies. “Perhaps you should go get your Captain, hmm?” she waves the gun to the door. “Run along.”

Kyle lifts his hands over his head and backs up slowly to the door. “Crazy, fucking bat—” he hurries out and she lowers the gun, hyperventilating, tucking herself into the corner; a quick look out the window dismays her idea to jump out the window—she’s on the second floor high up.

It’s only a few minutes before a knock sounds on the door and she lifts the gun again as a calm, deep voice comes through. “Can I come in?”

She swallows thickly and backs closer to the corner. “I have a gun!”

“I’m well aware,” the voice replies humored and in steps an older man, early forties, clean kempt and clean shaven, light brown and dusting gray mutton chops; his eyes are soft, a bit crow-footed around the edges, times of worry and weariness evident, but his expression and body language appear non-threatening. “Gave my Sergeant quite a wake-up, didn’t you, love? I’ve always loved a woman not afraid to make her peace,” he notes with a grin, and she can’t help but let out a startled laugh.

She watches as he walks over to the table in the corner and plucks two hardwood chairs up and sets them down in the middle of the room, followed by a small table from the window; he sets them a distance away, a safe distance and sits down in the chair closest to the door.

“Care to sit?”

“Not particularly,” she says and waits for him to speak, but he doesn’t, only smiles when the door opens and in steps the same young man but he��s holding a silver tray with a tea kettle and a few small cups.

“Tea, Captain,” he murmurs and sets it down on the table before leaving.

“Thank you, Kyle,” he says and looks at her. “You look awfully taut, love, come have some tea and we’ll sit a while and discuss what’s going on.”

She looks at it dubiously. “And how do I know you haven’t poisoned it?”

He blinks and pours himself a cup before blowing and taking a sip. “Wouldn’t drink it, would I?” He can tell she wants to argue but doesn’t know what to say and he smiles, nodding to the chair a few feet from him. “You’re confused, scared, and untrusting. Take a seat and I can help clear up some of those for you.”

“You’re not going to hurt me?” it’s a stupid question to ask really, naïve even, but still, she can’t help it.

He laughs. “If I was going to hurt you, I wouldn’t have you up here in my guest bedroom.”

She purses her lips and tips her head side to side; can’t argue with that. Taking a seat, she lets him pour a cup.

“Sugar?”

“Two, please.”

He nods. “Sweet love, aren’t you?” handing her the cup, he holds out his hand. “May I have Sergeant Garrick’s gun back, please?” His tone is kind, but it’s obvious he’s a man who isn’t to be argued with and she hands the gun over. “Thank you, love.”

She holds the cup in her lap, watching the steam waft up to her face. “Where am I?”

“At my mansion just outside of New York.” He takes a sip. “First, I’d like to offer my sincerest apologies for what occurred last night and how you unfortunately were involved.”

It takes a second and her memory flashes.

The guns went off before she realized what was happening, bullets ringing from over the street. One of their faces appears in her vision and then other faces, fingers pointing at her and she felt her heart drop into her stomach as she picks her bag from the ground and ran down the alley.

It’s only a moment before a weight like a train hits her back and she falls to the ground, sliding in dirt and grime behind the dumpster as she scrambles for her bearings. A cocking echoes and she looks over, the barrel of a gun in her face and she pleads with the man, “Please, please, I don’t want to die!”

He curses at her, screaming and then he looks down the alley he came in from and curses again, running off, but not before yanking her bag up and taking off with it.

Two more men run to her, and she slips in the watery mud as she tries to get up and run, but then one of the men’s arms are around her waist.

“Hold it, lass!” She starts screaming, and then his hand is over her mouth. “Stop fucking screaming! You tryna call the fuzz!”

His hand is over her nose, and she thrashes wildly in his grip as oxygen shorts from her lungs.

“Careful, Johnny,” the other warns. “Price’ll be livid if you kill her.”

Her vision blacks out, consciousness bleeding away as his response turns to mush in her ears.

“John and Simon weren’t supposed to do their mission in the neighborhood they were in. It’s my fault you were involved with it.”

She blinks the memory of the night before away and looks at him.

He looks almost ashamed. “Believe me, I’ve already expressed my anger thoroughly with them. They’ll both be in here to apologize at some point. John, especially for how he treated a young lady such as yourself.”

“…I take it you’re not exactly ‘law-abiding’ citizens?”

His eyes find hers and he smiles, holding out his hand. “Jonathan Price.”

She takes his hand and shakes it. “(Y/N) (L/N).” she looks him over. “You’re a mobster, aren’t you?”

“I prefer to call myself a well-distinguished businessman who simply operates outside the rules of engagement.”

“Long way to call yourself a criminal,” she snaps and sips her tea.

“Probably.” He gazes at her. “What happened last night was a fight over territory with a rival gang. You weren’t supposed to get involved.”

“Really? I had no idea?”

She knows he doesn’t take kindly to the sarcasm, but he can’t blame her. “That being said, it’s already through the channels that you’re somehow involved with my group. They’ve put a hit on you.”

Tea goes down the wrong pipe and she coughs, massaging her chest as she manages, “I’m sorry? Can you repeat that?”

“Because John and Simon brought you back, the others have assumed you’re a part of the one-four-one. They’ve officially put a target on your back.” He takes her shock in stride and in return calms, “I don’t intend to let anyone, or anything hurt you before all of this is cleared.”

“I’m going to die?”

He blinks and shakes his head. “No, you’re not, love.” Reaching over with a gentle hand, he places it on her wrist and looks into her eyes as he promises, “I won’t let anyone hurt you as a result of my men’s piss poor planning. You will be safe until it’s over and can return back to normal life.”

She breathes deeply, looks at the hand on her wrist. A stranger’s hand shouldn’t be so peaceful, so gentle, but his words sway her into a peace, and she exhales, her shoulders drooping. “I…but I have my job, my life. I…how am I supposed to live?”

Price frowns and pulls his hand away. “For now, I’ll contact your job and have you put on an extended leave, we’ll call it a family emergency.”

“The hospital would soon rather fire me.”

“Not on my watch they won’t,” he replies with a grin. “I’ll have your apartment cleared of your necessities and brought here, the rent paid for the next few months, depending on how long this takes.”

She looks around the room. “I’m supposed to live here for this time? All day, every day? Like a bird in a cage? A prisoner?”

“Of course not. My mansion is yours to explore freely. I have acres of land that are patrolled regularly so you’ll be safe anywhere. The only rooms that are off limits are my office which connects to my bedroom, and the rooms of my men unless they allow you into them.” He looks at her. “I have an extensive library and gallery, a decent stable with horses, a vast kitchen—the choice is yours to go wherever and do whatever. If there’s something you’d like, simply ask and I’ll see to it that you get it.”

“And what if I want to go into the city and go shopping?” she challenges. “A girl can’t stay cooped up forever in a nest. She’ll go insane.”

Price smiles but it’s evident he’s already thought of her question. “We’ll see what we can arrange.”

She lets out a sigh and sinks back into her chair, all of it suddenly hitting her and she tears up, setting the cup down to wipe her face as tears begin to fall. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to cry. I don’t usually cry like this.”

He simply hands her his pocket square from his suit and says, “Cry all you’d like, love. It’s my fault you’re in this mess, and I promise to get you out of it smoothly the best I can.” Another few moments of her crying before she sits up straighter and wipes her eyes one last time and he smiles. “Done?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“Then perhaps, if you’re up for it, I’d like to introduce you to my men.” When he sees the pause on her face, he adds, “We don’t have to now, if you don’t, but given that they’ll be looking after you, it’d be important to get it over with.”

She nods her head and sighs, “I understand.”

Price smiles and looks to the door. “Boys.”

The door opens and in files three men one after the other, the first, a tall blonde with a black face mask to match the all black suit he’s in, the next, a slightly shorter man with a head of shaved sides in a blue, pinstriped suit, and the third, Kyle, the man she’d met previously in a green and brown plaid suit.

Price gestures to the first, “My second-in-command, Lieutenant Simon Riley, my first Sergeant John MacTavish, and you know Sergeant Kyle Garrick.”

She swallows thickly and looks over them with quickly warming cheeks. “How do you do.” She meets eyes with Kyle and offers him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry for…shooting at you.”

The others snicker as Price shoots them a disapproving look and Kyle simply smiles back and shakes his head. “S’alright, sweets. No harm, no foul.”

Price looks over all of them fondly then back to her. “These are men I would gladly lay my life down for. I trust them beyond measure. None of them would ever hurt you.”

She glances at them, and they all show looks of pride but also have a demeanor of respect and determination. “Um, I’m (Y/N).”

The second one, John, grins at her. “Bonnie lass, ain’t ya? Definitely wouldn’t mind taking you on the town.”

Her cheeks get hot, and she looks at her hands, as Price scowls at him. “MacTavish, don’t forget you still owe Miss (L/N) one massive apology.”

John’s own face turns red as he looks at the ground, mouth snapping shut, and this time, Simon and Kyle laugh at him.

Price turns to her and smiles. “They’re a bit rambunctious at times, but a good lot. I’d like to have them rotate turns on keeping you company, if nothing else so you don’t go insane all alone here.”

“Oh, alright,” she agrees. “Will it be every day or every other…?”

He looks back at the men and then back to her. “Perhaps every week? I think a week with each one would give you adequate time to become comfortable with them. Less confusion to figure on who’s day it is when it’s simply someone’s week.”

“That sounds fine,” she nods and clears her throat. “Well, who is going to be with me first?”

Price smiles and pats her knee before standing and walking to the door. “I’ll let you have the honors of such a decision, love. That being said, I have some business to attend. I’ll see you all at dinner.” He looks at the masked one. “Simon, if she doesn’t choose you, I’ll need to see you in my office.”

“Yes sir,” he replies lowly, never taking his eyes off her as Price shuts the door behind him.

She’s left with the three men, an apprehensive look on her face as she stares back at the three men. “So…how’s everyone’s morning going so far?”

[moonpascaltoo]

miguel o’hara

MASTERLIST 🕷️ OSCAR ISAAC CHARACTERS 🕷️ 11/22/24

˚‧⁺ ･ ˖ · ୨ৎ recs

𑣲 snow spider I @ichorai

you were the ice to his fire—and miguel was burning for you.

𑣲 infected I @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

An accident at one of Alchemax’s labs has led to Miguel being briefly contaminated with cA1m - a prototype drug that is meant to calm animals. However it seems to have a very different effect in humans.

𑣲 i’m loving you from a distance but the road is getting longer I @improbable-outset l

It’s been over a year since you split up, but unfortunately for Miguel, things are still taking a toll. Even after going your separate ways, you still have to see each other everyday. And if that wasn’t bad enough, Miguel’s turmoil is taking effect on his performance as Spiderman and his role as a leader. Having you work under him is proving to be harder than he originally thought, especially when you both are put in situations where you’re forced to be together.

𑣲 meet cute I @/improbable-quest

You didn’t expect the mysterious man that you met at a wedding to change your whole trajectory of the night

𑣲 moved by devotion and prestige I @/improbable-quest

During a company dinner party, you find yourself humiliated by your current boyfriend. Seeking some escape, you confide with your boss, Miguel, whose support reveals some hidden emotions you’ve buried.

𑣲 roleplay date I @slushycoookie

You and Miguel do some roleplay

𑣲 cloud nine I @fxllfaiiry

convincing miguel to do the spiderman kiss with you.

𑣲 you haven’t kissed me all day I @luveline

miguel assumes you're mad when you stop initiating kisses and tries to get back on your good side

𑣲 firefighter!miguel part 2 I @bluesidez

𑣲 its always been you I @xbellaxcarolinax

Jealous? Jealous? No, absolutely not. (Or the one where Miguel can't admit he's jealous)

𑣲 futile devices I @/xbellaxcarolinax

The deal was explicitly no strings attached. You were finding it harder to keep up your end of the bargain.

𑣲 grumpy x sunshine I @forever-rogue

𑣲 baker!reader I @bruisedboys

𑣲 shy!reader I @/bruisedboys

𑣲 I get mean when im nervous (like a bad dog) I @silkscream

you go too far in your defense of miles when you give miguel an ultimatum.

𑣲 Civilian!reader headcanons I @certainlynotasimp

𑣲 not for us I @spideyheart

miguel o’hara found the face of the woman he had loved (and lost) in his office, donning a spider suit with a warm cup of coffee in hand for him. he knew there were no second chances, not for the both of you. still, he couldn’t help longing.

𑣲 secret relationship I @sunflowersteves

𑣲 webs of opacity I @inknopewetrust

what if Miguel didn’t learn the first time around? What if he keeps jumping to new realities to experience the life he deserved but never got?

𑣲 convergence I @/inknopewetrust

you are recruited to the spider society after conducting a batch of vigilante actions against the men who killed your husband, miguel and well... their leader isn’t like the man you remembered.

𑣲 what a mess I @runa-falls

𑣲 thought i dreamed her part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 I @asimplearchivist

you had already lost him once, and you couldn’t bear the thought to lose him again. little did you know, he had lost you twice.

𑣲 too slow I @ronwestbreeze

the both of you would come back from this. you would...right?

𑣲 dear reader I @beezusvreeland

Miguel took the reader’s love and friendship for granted. Something he learns reading her column, when it’s too late…Or is it?

𑣲 rule no. 19 I @neo-nomatrix

You were Miguel’s wife in another universe and he just can’t come to terms that you’re not his.

𑣲 misunderstanding I @ivystoryweaver

𑣲 after hours I @eyelessfaces

he's here again, like so many times before, standing in your living room in the middle of the night; you're not sure you can do this again, but he needs you to.

𑣲 nonviolent communication I @greensagephase

You don't show up to a meeting or report for other duties as a Spider Society member because of your period. Your boss shows up to your apartment.

𑣲 stupidly yours I @marroonwitch

you found your roommate stupidly annoying, from the girls he brought home, to the way he never cleans up. so why, all of a sudden, was he trying to get into your good graces?

[doyouknowbtsswag]

Hiii, hruuuu i loved your chishiya fic and wanted to request a chishiya imagine/oneshot where he tries to fluster YOU but it backfires and he gets flustered and embarrased and shy (unnecessary detail but the reader is also rlly quiet and is good at manipulating and stuff like that)

Also, no rush, hope ur gonna write this and hope your doing well, eating,drinking and sleeping well, love youuu byeee<33

Playboy |Chishiya|

I am so sorry it’s been so long since this was requested hopefully you like it😭

The sound of loud party music and people messing around could be heard miles away. The people around me to hyper for their own good and the alcohol they were drinking wasn't helping. I awkwardly sat on one of the sun chairs annoyed at the current outfit I was wearing if it counts as one. The stupid bikini I had to wear that showed off almost everything on my body. I saw a guy coming over near the group of people in front of me ready to attack them with water. I quickly got up from the chair and wandered around to find somewhere water-free which was inside. I cringed walking past the bar filled with people drunk out of their minds and doing the most vulgar things that belonged in private. I walked faster through the halls not wanting to take the risk of bumping into Niragi. I internally gagged at the thought of him in general. I stayed by myself the whole time I've been in borderland not wanting to cling to someone and then lose them. I opted on going up to the roof knowing no one would party up there. The breeze countered the stuffy feeling downstairs. The smell of alcohol and smoke leaving my nose and having a fresh smell. I leaned against the railing looking out to the sea. I smiled thinking about what my life will be like after Borderland and I don't intend on dying anytime soon.

I play the game as if it was Chess. I collect my allies as if they're my pawns once I don't need them I knock them off the board. The day I ended up here was bittersweet. I need a reliable pawn so I can make my way up to one day get rid of the people in my way to beat the game and one of the people who are in my way so far is that bastard Niragi and the militants who are nothing but assholes. Once that happens I'll get them in my clutch and knock them off my board and make sure they shatter. I groaned in annoyance hearing the door open thinking two people were up here to hook up.

"I didn't see you come up here," a girl said as I glanced over my shoulder.

"I've been up here" I shrugged in an unbothered tone. "It's a nice spot" I turned around to see who it was.

"I can't blame you," the familiar face said. I've seen her multiple times and played a game or two with her.

Perfect pawn

"What's your name again? We've played quite a few games together It's funny we've never exchanged names" I gave a fake smile.

"Kuina"

"Oh, I've never seen him before," I said casually nodding to the mysterious guy.

"Chishiya," He said giving an unbothered grin.

Another pawn

"Nice to meet you," I said a little pissed at his perfect grin that matched his face perfectly.

I walked a bit closer so I wasn't so far from the pair but I stood at a comfortable distance from them. However, the blonde seemed amused by the interaction.

"So what brings you up here?" I asked watching and listening to them carefully.

"Why should we tell you?" Chishiya said with his hands in his pockets.

He's confident

"Just wondering since I'm planning on staying up here" I crossed my arms.

"You will eventually so don't worry about it"

Stop with the smug smile

"Maybe I will or maybe I won't" I shrugged.

"So Y/n how've you been?" Kuina asked derailing the topic.

"I've been fine just hanging around" I shrugged. "Not much to do"

"Your right about that"

"Not much of a party girl huh?" The blonde piped in as if he wanted to piss me off.

"Not really I'm not interested in getting wasted when I have to play games to survive wouldn't be smart would it?"

"Your right about that" He moved his head to the side chuckling. "You just look like a party girl"

"Oh really?" I uncrossed my arms. "How so?"

"Your swimsuit and the way you have your hair"

Is he trying to flirt with me or catch me off guard?

"So we're going by looks"

"Maybe," He said confidently.

I walked closer to him till we were shoulder to shoulder.

"Then I guess you look like a playboy" I whispered in his ear. "Thanks for the compliment earlier by the way”

I didn't have to look at his face to see his cheeks tinted red. The way his body tensed up told me I won the silent confidence battle.

"I'll leave you two to talk about whatever you need to talk about" I walked to the roof door to get back down. I waved goodbye seeing Kuina's confused look and Chishiya's mouth wide open. "Oh and don't die" I winked and grinned walking downstairs.

[xxoxobree]

Shoot Your Shot

Miles G. X Black Fem Reader

A/n: there’s tumble weeds in my brain 😭😭 so here’s a lil blurb of you shooting your shot at Miles, I found the artwork on Pinterest 🙃

WARNINGS: None , enjoy

It was a regular Saturday in Brooklyn. The sun was out, and the streets were bustling with people. You had spent the morning getting yourself ready, making sure your baby hairs were slicked down your long nails clashing together as you worked, trying to look your best for the day ahead.

As you headed out the door, you made sure to say goodbye to your mom.

"Bye Mommy, I'll be back later," you said, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

"Okay baby, be safe,".

'I will," you shouted back, running out the door to meet your friends. They were waiting for you outside, and you could feel the excitement bubbling inside you as you hugged them.

To pass the time, you headed to the park, where you and your friends planned to hang out and do nothing in particular it was just something all the teens on the block did.

As you arrived at the park, you noticed the boys were already playing basketball, their loud voices echoing throughout the park. You and your friends immediately made your way over to your usual spot, where you could watch the boys play and giggle as they dedicated shots to you and your friends, only to miss them.

You talked about your future plans, your latest crush, and all the silly things that teenagers talk about. As the day wore on, more and more people started to show up at the park, creating a lively atmosphere.

But oddly today was different. As you sat there, someone caught your eye. He was a stranger but you've seen him around before, seeing him was a rare sighting. He sat with your friends and the boys that usually flirted with you and your friends. However, he seemed uninterested, too caught up in whatever was on his phone.

You couldn't help but feel drawn to him, and you found yourself stealing glances at him whenever you could.

Your eyes flickered admiringly over his sharp jaw, full lips, and the way his light brown eyes glistened in the sun. You couldn't explain why he intrigued you so much, but you just knew you wanted to know more about him.

As the day went on, you and your friends continued to hang out at the park, but your attention was always drawn back to the stranger.

Finally, you decided to make a move and approach him taking a seat next to him.

"Hey," you said,cool and confident.

"Hey," he replied, looking up from his phone before looking back down.

"I haven't seen you around here a lot."

"Yeah, I'm not really the crowd type," he said with a shrug , not taking his eyes off of his phone.

"Well, I'm Y/n," you said, holding out your hand a smile on your face.

He looked at it for a moment before hesitantly shaking it. "Miles" he said before looking back at his phone again.

"Must be real busy," you said, trying to engage him.

"You have no idea," he replied, still focused on his phone.

You took a chance and asked to see his phone. Miles looked up at you, a questioning look in his eyes, before reluctantly handing it over.

You took the phone with a smile, feeling a rush of excitement. You entered your number and handed it back to him, hoping he would take the bait.

"Here, maybe next time I can be the distraction," you said, your heart beating fast in your chest.

Miles looked at you for a moment, studying your face, before a faint smile appeared on his lips.

"I'll keep that in mind,ma" he said, his voice low and smooth.

You got up to leave, telling your friends you had to go. Miles watched as you walked away, a small smirk on his face as he bit his lip, shaking his head at the situation. He'd never really had a girl shoot their shot at him before, and if he wasn't interested before, he definitely was now. It didn't help that you were beautiful.

[steveslevis]

delicate - chapter two

is it chill that you're in my head?

pairing: steve harrington x reader

chapter contents: not a lot happening in this one, just the two of them being awkward

wc: 3.6k

a/n: hope you guys enjoy!!! sorry it took so long, hopefully ch3 won't take me as long

Everything that comes after your so-called interview at Ralph’s happens in what seems like a matter of seconds. Before you know it, you’re standing on Fifth avenue with Eddie the next day, your two large suitcases, one duffle bag and backpack being the only things you needed to tow across the city. 

Eddie had been the opposite of excited for you, in all honesty. He told you damn near a thousand times over a span of 24 hours that you should just move in with him and Alexander, and that you should try to negotiate with him about still working for him until you can save for your own place. Much to his dismay, you ignored your best friend’s concerns, shaking your head with confidence every time he tried to ask if you would stay. You had a good feeling about this, the voice in the back of your head telling you to go for it, that it would be a good growth opportunity, that you would never heal by spending your time rotting on Eddie’s couch. 

So that’s how you ended up here, walking into one of the most expensive luxury housing buildings in the entire city with your weary best friend in tow. The two of you had made the mile and a half long trek across the city instead of using one of the Harrington family’s chauffeurs – you had insisted to Steve that it wasn’t necessary for the little amount of belongings that you had. 

“Holy shit,” you hear Eddie mumble behind you while you push open the heavy glass door and walk into the lobby. 

The lobby is grand, with white marble floors, sleek black walls, gold accents, and arguably the biggest crystal chandelier you’ve ever seen hanging from the ceiling in the middle of the room. There’s two gray leather couches sitting in front of a modern fireplace on one side, while a black granite front desk is on the other, with a young, blonde woman standing behind it. 

“Hi there!” The woman calls to you from behind the desk, bearing the fakest smile you’ve ever seen as she eyes you and Eddie up and down, likely judging how out of place the two of you look in such a luxurious area, “can I help you two?”

“Yeah, we’re looking for the Harrington residence,” you say while approaching the desk with an equally fake smile plastered on your face, “are we in the right place?”

The woman, whose name is Carolyn according to her nametag, immediately turns off the fake niceties once you say who you’re looking for. The fake smile falters for a moment and you see her furrow her brow while looking you over once again. She looks down to the desk in front of her for a moment, reaching for an envelope that’s off to the side.

“You must be the new nanny,” she says, and you almost swear you hear a hint of jealousy in her voice as she speaks.

“Yes, that’s me.” you say with a small chuckle to yourself, raising your brow at her when she nearly frowns at your response. 

Her lips fall into a thin line at that, her hand coming up from behind the counter to shove the envelope onto the granite in front of you. 

“Here’s the access card and key to the apartment,” she says to you as you grab the envelope, inside is a glimmering golden card and a silver key that’s attached to a small tag with your name on it, “you have to scan the card in the elevator to get to the top floor, then use the key to open the door. Don’t lose them, or you’ll have to pay for them.” 

She turns back to the computer in front of her without a word as you nod. You turn to Eddie once she does, exchanging a confused look before making your way towards the elevator on the other end of the lobby. You scan the key card and the elevator’s doors automatically close as the circular button with a large “P” at the top of the pad lighting up as it begins its ascent. 

“Jesus, the fucking penthouse?” Eddie scoffs under his breath in disbelief, shifting your duffle bag on his shoulder.

It only takes a minute for the elevator to reach the top floor, the door of the elevator sliding open to reveal a short hallway with only one door at the end. The two of you step out and make your way over to the large front door, you look over to Eddie once you stand in front of it. The look on your face is filled with nervousness and excitement, but mainly nervousness.

“Should I knock?” you question, staring down at your key.

“You have a key for a reason, don’t you?” he quips, raising an eyebrow at you. 

You shoot him a quick glare and sigh, flipping the key in your fingers a few times as you try to compose yourself. Eventually you reach for the door, sliding the key into the lock to open it. The door swings open and you’re met with arguably the nicest apartment – penthouse, rather – that you’ve stepped foot in while living in the city. 

It’s much more cozy and less grandiose than you had expected, a stark contrast from the marble lined, golden and glittering lobby you had just entered from. You step into the living room when you first walk in, a large olive green couch and two matching chairs face a fireplace on the far wall, a comically large TV hanging above it. Everything is clean and definitely luxurious, but also feels lived-in, much more welcoming and warm than the rest of the complex. 

The kitchen is to the left through a wide archway, but you don't have time to explore, as your thoughts are interrupted by Steve bounding into view from the kitchen. There’s a welcoming smile on his face as he steps into the living room, wiping his hands with a kitchen towel before tossing it over his shoulder to free his hands. He’s wearing a pair of slacks and a navy button down. His hair is a little more disheveled than it was last time the two of you met, but still looked perfectly put together somehow. You could tell that he had recently gotten done with work for the day, partially from the fact that he had two buttons undone on his shirt, and partially from the air of remnant stress that he was carrying. 

“Welcome! Please, come on in.” Steve says with a smile as he watches Eddie close the door behind him. “Thank you for coming on such short notice, again. I really appreciate you starting so soon.”

“It’s no problem, I’m glad to help.” you say, shifting the backpack on your shoulders.

Steve extends a hand to Eddie to introduce himself, and Eddie gives him a reserved introduction in return, still hesitant about everything as he scans the penthouse. 

Steve looks between you and Eddie once more, eyeing the four bags between the two of you before asking, “Is this everything you had to bring up, or is there still more downstairs?”

“Yeah, this is it, actually.” you laugh, knowing the amount of belongings you had was quite underwhelming, “that’s why I said we could just make the hike with the bags instead of taking one of your cars.”

“Oh, it would’ve been no problem either way.” he says while shaking his head, reaching for the suitcase that was by your side, “C’mon, I’ll show you to your room.”

Steve guides the two of you to a room off to the right on the first floor, explaining that the people who owned the penthouse before him had used it as a place for their in-laws to stay. He opened the door to the room, letting you and Eddie walk in before him. The bedroom was much nicer than you had expected in all honesty, with a queen-sized bed in the middle adorned in obviously expensive cream-colored linens, a sitting area equipped with a stocked bookshelf (perks of being employed by the CEO of a famous publishing company), and a desk for you to work on school during your time off. There was an en-suite bathroom as well, which looked larger than the entire living room of your previous shared apartment. 

“Wow, this is–this is so amazing.” you gasp, looking over to Steve gratefully. “I wasn’t expecting anything this nice, to be honest.”

“Gotta make sure you’re comfortable so you stick around,” he says with a wink, which instantly sends your stomach into a fit of butterflies. “Go ahead and get settled in, I’m gonna go check on Amelia and the food.”

Before you could thank him, Steve was through the door and back in the nearby kitchen. You could tell why he needed your help, his mind worked at a thousand miles a minute, like he always had something that he needed to be doing.

“You still sure about all this?” Eddie implores, breaking you from your thoughts.

You look over to your best friend to see a face contorted with genuine concern and hesitancy, unsure of if he should leave you here alone or if he should tote you out over his shoulder regardless of your wishes.

“I am one hundred percent sure, Eds.” you assure him with a soft smile, pulling him into a hug. 

Eddie wraps his arms around your shoulders with a sigh, finally giving up his fight on your decisions. He knew you were too stubborn to listen to him and deep down he could tell that Steve meant well, but he was just so unsure. 

“I just want you to be safe.” he says finally, resting his chin atop your head.

“And I will be,” you state confidently, pulling back to look up at him. “This place might be, like, one of the safest places to live in the city. And besides, anywhere is safer than where I was.”

“You mean on my couch?” Eddie says, feigning an insulted look as he speaks. He knew you were talking about living with Luke, but he also knew you didn’t want to talk about him. 

“I appreciate everything you do for me, Eds, but your couch is the second to last place I would like to sleep tonight.” you say with a teasing smile, watching as he rolls his eyes playfully.

“Alright, alright, but don’t come crying to me when sexy Mr. CEO Harrington turns out to be crazy like I said,” he replies, and you shoot him a glare. “What? There’s gotta be something wrong with him, he’s too hot and too perfect on paper to be normal.”

“I think you gotta stop obsessing over my ‘hot’ boss before you get me fired before my first day has even started,” you laugh, shoving his shoulder after using air quotes when saying hot – you didn’t think Steve was hot at all, right?

“Okay, fine I’ll stop tormenting you.” he chuckles, “as long as you promise not to fall in love with him or some shit like that.” 

You immediately laugh out loud at the thought, shaking your head immediately. “That’s not gonna happen, Eds. He’s my employer and I’m only here to take care of his daughter. Besides, I’ll probably barely see him since he’ll be working all the time.” 

Eddie gives you an incredulous look before pulling you in for another quick hug.

“Please, just call me if there’s anything you need and I can be here to get you, okay?” he says and you nod. 

The two of you walk out of the bedroom shortly after, saying your goodbyes at the door with one last hug (that Eddie almost doesn’t let go in) before you make your way to the kitchen, where you know Steve is. 

Unsurprisingly, the kitchen is just as nice as the rest of the penthouse that you’ve seen, but is currently in a bit of a state of disarray. Steve is standing next to the stove, and he’s serving what looks to be a pasta dish onto plates on the counter. Amelia is sitting at the long, dark dining table on the other side of the room. She’s zeroed in on two dolls in front of her, mumbling a conversation between the two of them to herself. 

“Food’s done, sweetheart.” Steve called out to his daughter, grabbing a pink plate from the pile, presumably for her. “Why don’t you put your dolls up on the counter while we eat so they don’t get dirty, okay?”

The little girl nods, grabbing her things from the table to put them up, clearly excited for the dinner her dad had prepared, “want butter on my bread, please Daddy.” she requests, a smile on her face when she spots the pink plate atop the counter.

“I’ll get you some once I sit down, love.” he replies, smoothing down his daughter’s hair when she comes to stand next to him.

There was something so sweet and so domestic about the situation unfolding in front of you, a father and daughter busy in their own little worlds, but not too busy to share a kind interaction. 

“Just in time, I was just gonna come see if you guys were hungry.” Steve says, peering over his shoulder to meet your eyes when you take another step into the room. 

“Oh, sure!” you reply, “it’s just me though. I’m sorry to disappoint, but Eddie left just a second ago.”

Steve laughs in response, shaking his head at your words. He quickly serves up some penne alla vodka, extending the plate and some silverware to you once he does. You follow him to the table as he carries his and Amelia’s plates, setting one in front of his excited daughter, who almost immediately digs in. 

“Well, I’m sad your boyfriend couldn’t stay for dinner, but it was very kind of him to help you move over on such short notice and be so understanding of the situation.” Steve says once you both settle at the table. 

You had just taken your first bite of food when Steve started to speak, and the suggestion of Eddie being your boyfriend nearly makes you choke on the pasta. A small laugh escapes your lips as you play off your near-death experience with a cough, shaking your head at the thought. 

“Are you alright?” Steve questions, setting his own fork down as he watches you carefully, making sure you’re not actually choking. 

“Yes! S–sorry, I’m fine!” you stammer quickly, shaking your head, “I just–Sorry, I thought that was funny. Eddie isn’t my boyfriend.” you reply with a nervous smile. 

“Oh?” Steve retorts, raising an eyebrow at you.

“He’s just my best friend, I–I was actually sleeping on him and his boyfriend’s couch for a few days so he just wanted to make sure where I was going to be living was safer than that.” you say, cheeks flushing red at the admission of couch surfing less than 24 hours prior to ending up in this penthouse, of all places. 

“Sleeping on his couch?” he implores, “I thought you said you lived in a small studio in Yorkville?”

“I did, with my ex. That is where I was but we–well, we had a nasty breakup a few weeks back so that’s how I ended up on Eddie’s couch. It all happened so fast that I keep forgetting I don’t live there anymore –” you blurt out, stopping yourself when you realize how much you’re sharing with this man you barely know. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be telling you all this, you’re my boss for God’s sake, I am so sorry, Steve.”

“Hey, no, no, you’re fine!” he replies quickly, shooting you a reassuring smile. “I’m, uh, I’m sorry you had to deal with that.”

You give him a small, sad smile in return, choosing to focus your gaze on the food in front of you so you don’t embarrass yourself any more than you already have. 

“I know it probably doesn’t mean a lot coming from me since I don’t know what happened, but I’m sure that you didn’t deserve to be the one left on your best friend’s couch without a place to live.” Steve was rambling now, “and I’m sorry for assuming that Eddie was your boyfriend, I just didn’t think it was possible for someone like you to be single.”

There was an awkward beat of silence after Steve finished his nervous ramble, leaving you with a million thoughts that you couldn’t process in the moment, all being ones that made your stomach flutter. You didn’t really have time to process any of it though, as your thoughts were interrupted by Amelia tugging on her dad’s sleeve.

“Where my butter bread?” she questions, giving her dad a very stern look, clearly impatient from not getting her bread with the meal. 

Steve opens his mouth to retort, but you’re up from the table and grabbing the plate with baguette slices and a pad of butter Steve had forgotten on the counter next to the pot of pasta. You give the little girl a smile, swiping some butter on one of the slices before reaching across the table to hand it to her. She grabs the bread and hastily takes a large bite, giggling to herself in satisfaction. 

“What do you say?” Steve says to her, giving her a knowing look.

“Tank you,” she says to you, mouth full of bread as she grins over at you. 

The once awkward moment quickly resolved after Amelia’s interruption, and dinner went by smoothly after that. You discussed what you would need to do to help Amelia throughout the day and night, and what days Steve would be around to help out. He let you know that you wouldn’t have to cook dinner, as he insisted on sitting down with her almost every evening for the meal and making it on his own. After dinner, you insisted on helping Steve clean up, but he insisted against it, that he would finish up. Instead, you opted to get Amelia ready for bed, getting her showered and cleaned up before reading her one of the dozens of children’s books that she had littered around her bedroom. 

It was around 9 by the time you finished getting her to bed, leaving her room with the bedroom door cracked slightly. Both her and Steve’s bedrooms were upstairs, along with Steve’s office that he used to work from home on occasion. You passed the office, noticing a small light flooding from the doorway as you did. Before you could walk down the stairs, you heard a voice from inside the office call for you. 

Steve was sitting in the dimly lit room, at the large oak desk that sat in the middle of the room. He looked up from his computer when you came in, there was a tired look on his face that changed when he locked eyes with you. Thin rimmed glasses sat on his face that you hadn’t seen before, and he was freshly showered, his hair still drying and the collar of his gray t-shirt was slightly damp. He looked exhausted, but still managed to look extremely attractive and that made you want to crawl into his lap and – no, stop it. Your mind was wandering, it had been too long of a day already. 

“She went down okay?” he questioned, breaking you from your trance. 

“Yeah, she was fine. She made me read Goodnight Moon twice before she fell asleep, she said I read it wrong the first time around.” you say with a laugh. 

“That sounds about right,” he chuckles in reply, shaking his head. There’s a beat of contemplative silence, then Steve looks back up at you, “also, before you head to bed. I just wanted to apologize for earlier, I–I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable by asking too many questions or anything, I’m sorry if I did.”

“Don’t apologize, you’re fine. I’ve been asked worse things, don’t worry about it.” you say with an assuring smile, earning one back from him in return that makes your heart skip a beat. “Goodnight, Steve.”

Steve says goodnight in reply and you turn on your heels to walk back downstairs. Exhaustion hits you all at once when you make it to the bedroom that you now call your own, throwing yourself onto the bed with a sigh. 

It’s in that moment that you’re thankful for changing and getting ready for the night before you made your way up to put Amelia to bed, because now you can just cuddle into your new bed with no worries. Well, that is until your mind starts to wander.

All day you had brushed off the thoughts you’d had about Steve, the remarks Eddie had made about Steve, and the remarks Steve had made to you at dinner about being surprised that you were single. There was no reason for you to be overthinking it all, you told yourself. There was no reason for your stomach to flutter at the thought of Steve, your new employer, winking at you jokingly. There was no reason for your mind to wander when you saw him with wet hair and glasses, but you couldn’t help yourself.

What did it all mean? You shouldn’t even be thinking about anyone right now, you just went through a disgusting breakup with an even more disgusting man, you should be thinking about nobody but yourself.

You weren’t sure what any of it meant, and were truthfully terrified to find the real answer.

But that was for another time, as sleep overtook you not long after you set an alarm, mind still running as you drifted into slumber.

taglist: @siriuslysmoking @blackholegladiator @cultish-corner @cris-wants-a-word @nervousmumbling @angelbabyivy @ohheyitsrowan @sweetdazequeen @royalestrellas @20orca00 @taeteddybear @different-spokes @paleidiot @frostandflamesfanfic @tulips2715 @rainbowfruity14 @shinytinywhispers @corrodedcoffincumslut @definitionwanderlust @starsinsidemyeyes @mikeschmidtgf @haruari @shallowparadise @micheledawn1975 @rexorangecouny @hollandweather @redbarn1995

[deep-fried-egg]

(I am deep-fried-egg. I am not stealing fics.)

Full throttle

Warnings: inaccurate explanation of illegal street racing, g!p, lesbians

Smut below this shit 👇👇👇

Tara is an illegal street racer. is she ashamed? not at all. she's proud of herself! she's the most famous street racer in all of New York. anyone can recognize that powder blue 1976 AMC racer from miles away. and everyone knows it's her because of how beat up it is.

Now y/n is her nemesis. Tara has never been able to beat y/n in a race and has made it her life mission for the past 3 years.

Y/n is the only person Tara can't beat actually. somehow Tara constantly fucking loses against her. Tara doesn't give up though.

This time Tara got a little distracted per se during this race and here's why:

"Why do you keep racing me, Tara? It's not like you ever win!" Y/n yelled from where she was sitting in the car next to Tara who looked like she was making a plan on how to win the world cup.

Tara rolled her eyes at y/n's statement and just said. "Because I can" with so much confidence in herself. Y/n smirked slightly at Tara but then just said "Well you're going to need to be faster Tara if you're going to win." which honestly pissed Tara off because she could still win if she wanted to.

Y/n just shook her head at Tara's stubbornness and went back to looking through her phone while waiting for Tara to get ready. Tara looked over at y/n who seemed to be scrolling through Tumblr or something. Y/n had this thing for Tumblr. Kind of weird but who cares.

"Alright, I'm ready." Tara smacked the roof of y/n's cat before getting into her own. y/n smiled at Tara who gave her the middle finger back before driving off towards their first race. which was about a mile away.

before they knew it the race was starting and they had to rev their engines before starting. just to show off a little. Tara immediately went full speed as soon as she could go. She made sure to never hit the brake pedal to keep her pace up. she felt the rush. the adrenaline coursing through her body. She loved doing this. speeding her car down an empty street. racing her biggest enemy. the one girl she was determined to win against.

Tara's heart began pounding and her breathing quickened as she approached closer and closer to the finish line. As soon as her mind started focusing on the win she was about to have under her belt she looked outside the passenger's window (big mistake) and saw y/n lift her shirt and bra to flash Tara which caused Tara to rapidly lose speed and y/n ended up winning the race yet again.

Tara started spacing off as she could feel her cock start getting erect at the thought of seeing y/n's tits again. She couldn't help it really, y/n was just irresistible.

the moment Tara stepped out of her car she stormed towards y/n and pushed her front onto the roof of her car. "that wasn't fucking fair y/n." She hissed into the h/c girl's ear as she gripped her hips tightly. y/n let out a small gasp as she could feel Tara's dick pressing up against her thigh.

"you cheated." Tara continued pushing into her and letting her hands slide under the hem of y/ns shirt so she could trace over the smooth skin of y/ns stomach. y/n squirmed at Tara's touch. "you cheated." Tara repeated as she bit his shoulder and then made a suggestion.

"we should move this into MY car. I want to feel like a winner." Tara suggested with a sly smile causing a shiver to run down y/n's spine. y/n nodded and allowed Tara to pull y/n towards her car so she could open the door to the backseats and fucking ruin her.

Tara struggled to open the back door because there was a large dent near the handle which made it difficult to open the door. y/n giggled at Tara's struggle before opening the door herself with no problems.

Tara rolled her eyes before climbing into the backseat with y/n following shortly afterward. y/n shut the door to the backseat firmly before she turned her head to look at Tara.

Tara pushed y/n down so she could straddle her thighs. Tara then lifted y/n's shirt and gently bit the skin of y/ns shoulder.

"Tell me I'm a better racer or I'm not fucking you." Tara whispered in y/ns ear and y/n swallowed hard before saying, "y - yeah you are! you're a better racer than me!" Tara grinned at y/n response. y/n's voice cracked when she said that and Tara smiled even more before biting Y/n's collarbone.

Tara unhooked y/n's bra before she saw those beautiful breasts and she almost moaned at the sight.

"Fuck. I've been wanting to do this." Tara murmured against y/n's neck. Tara felt her goblin instincts take over and she quickly rid both herself and Y/n of the rest of their clothes before settling between Y/n's legs.

y/n gasped at Tara's sudden movements as she felt Tara position herself and push in without thinking.

"fuck.." Tara mumbled as she started thrusting inside y/n. Tara didn't know where her self-control went. every part of her body ached for this woman. she only wanted to fuck her, to take her all night long.

but y/n doesn't deserve it. not after all of that winning she's been doing! Tara thought bitterly as she continued to thrust into y/n harder and harder. She groaned at the thought of how badly she wanted to make y/n cry out in pleasure. to beg for her release. to scream out her name. but she kept quiet and didn't say anything instead continuing to pound into y/n mercilessly.

Tara reached down to grab y/n's hips so she can thrust in a little easier. y/n wrapped her legs around Tara's waist in response.

"fucking hell Tara! I - oh fuck!" Tara watched as y/n arched her back in ecstasy. the sound of y/n's moans, her breathy whimpers, made her feel things she wasn't used to feeling. but it also made her feel a sense of pride and accomplishment.

she wanted to hear y/n scream like this again and again. to hear her beg for her to take her. to taste her. to feel her. Tara wanted y/n to forget everything and just come undone beneath her. Tara wants y/n to give her what she needs. Tara thrusts a few more times before she cums deep inside y/n. Tara kept on thrusting though, even if she was getting overstimulated.

"o-oh fuck Tara! I'm going to cum!" Tara suddenly pulled out of y/n before she could cum which made y/n whine in disappointment.

"oh my god, y/n don't be such a baby. I'll let you cum at some point! I just need to teach you a little lesson." Tara told y/n who just rolled her eyes at Tara's words and pouted. "I hate you." y/n said as she crossed her arms against her chest and glared at Tara who just chuckled lightly at y/n's reaction.

"no, you don't," Tara said before slipping back inside of y/n once again. Y/n was panting now which Tara took great pleasure in. Y/n grabbed Tara's hair and buried her face into Tara's neck. Tara felt satisfied hearing y/n whimper her name and she smirked at the sound.

"Tara please...please! I need you to make me cum." Y/n pleaded desperately which caused Tara to roll her eyes at y/n's words and started moving in and out of y/n slowly while listening to her cries of satisfaction. Tara knew that she was getting close to her climax. Tara could practically see y/n coming apart underneath her. "god! You're killing me, Tara..." Y/n breathed out, "Come on! I'm so fucking close!"

Tara just laughed at y/n's desperate pleas. "you're so cute when you're needy, y/n." Tara said teasingly and Y/n just growled lowly as she tried to move herself on Tara's throbbing cock. Tara pulled out once again since she didn't want y/n to cum too soon.y/n was panting heavily by now and Tara couldn't help the grin from forming on her lips.

"you are SO fucked up." Y/n growled angrily at Tara.

"maybe. but you should have thought about that before you made me lose the fucking race. now get out of my car and go home."

"but I didn't even-"

"no buts. I would have won if you didn't flash me y/n." Tara stated as y/n climbed out of the car. "don't think I won't do this again if you make me lose another race."

[arcane-vagabond]

Singing in the Sanctuary: Chapter One

Singing in the Sanctuary: Chapter One

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw is a simple man. Well, as simple as one can be while living a life of crime. The notorious outlaw of the western territories has never been interested in settling down and having a family, but will that all change when he meets a shy, new teacher who just moved into town?

Warnings: Swearing, Bradley Bradshaw being a flirt, suggestive language. I think that’s all?

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: Here's Chapter One!! I hope you all enjoy. As always, validation of any form (reblogs, comments, and likes) are always appreciated. And if you want to swing by and leave me a message or ask, you are always free to do so! I love talking about my works. 18+ ONLY!! Find me on AO3 under arcane_vagabond where I will be posting these fics as well!

Series Masterlist || DGU Masterlist

Maverick had taken you home and let his wife, Penny, help you get settled in to your temporary home. Penny was a lovely woman, smile lines clear on her face. While she was easily one of the most beautiful women you had ever seen in your entire life, her easy confidence is what ultimately drew you to the older woman.

“It’s lovely to meet you,” you had gushed as Maverick led you into their home. It was a simple, white house close to the edge of town, and the interior gave a particularly cozy atmosphere that had you relaxing almost instantly.

“You as well, darlin’,” she smiled, green eyes twinkling. You went to shake her hand, but she pulled you into a tight hug instead. “No need to be so formal, sweetheart. You’ll be staying here until we can find something else for you, after all.”

“Of course,” you sighed. Penny pulled away and rested her hands on your shoulders. Peering over at her husband, the corners of her mouth dipped down in disapproval.

“Speaking of which, Pete, when are you going to get that school house built?” she griped. Maverick rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly and offered her a small smile.

“We’ll start it here soon, I reckon,” he murmured, causing Penny’s frown to turn into a full blown scowl.

“You’ve been saying that for months now!”

“And when I find the workers, we’ll get right on it,” he replied pointedly. “Besides, we just now got ourselves someone to teach all the little hellions.”

Penny rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath that you didn’t quite catch. She turned her attention back to you and smiled, guiding you towards the stairs. “Come on, darlin’. Let’s go get you situated. Mav’ll bring your things up in a little bit.”

You followed her dutifully up the stairs and down the hall until she stopped in front of the the last door on the left.

“This is you, sweetheart,” she said, opening the door. It was a simple room. A four poster bed was placed against the far wall and a wardrobe on the wall to your right beside the window. A small vanity sat at your left, and as you took it all in, you felt the excitement of the day wash over you.

“I love it,” you said quietly, grinning from ear to ear. Penny’s smile matched your own.

“I’m glad. I know it’s not much, but you’re free to do with it what you like until we get you your own place. It even has a view of the mountains.”

At her words, you moved over to the window, drawing back the curtains and leaning in to look out. There were no words to describe it. You had been a little worried to move out to the middle of the desert, knowing how much you’d miss your sprawling green landscapes. The mere thought had you feeling a mixture of guilt and homesickness. Your parents were probably beside themselves at that very moment, despite the note you had left them explaining where you were going. You could practically hear the wails of your mother from hundreds of miles away. But the view of the mountains before you almost made up for those awful feelings within you. It was like a painting you had seen once at the market. The blue sky popped against the muted oranges and brown that lay underneath, and the white clouds that floated by looked almost unreal.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathed quietly, and Penny chuckled.

“It is, isn’t it?” she began, coming over to stand next to you. “It’s even more beautiful at night when you can see all the stars in the sky.”

“I can imagine,” you said, already smiling at the thought. Penny straightened up and clapped her hands together.

“Right! Well, how about you and I go downstairs and get supper started? The butcher sold me a prime cut of beef today, and there’s a recipe I’ve been dying to try.”

You followed her out the door, the smile still plastered on your face. “I’d love to.”

Your dinner with Maverick and Penny had been full of conversation and laughter. Maverick told you about how he had come to found the town with his best friend, Tom “Iceman” Kazansky, who also happened to be the towns sitting sheriff.

“He’s a stubborn son of a gun,” Maverick had said with a hint of a smile, “but there’s no one I trust more.”

Penny had cocked an eyebrow at him at that, and Maverick chuckled, placing his hand on top of hers where it sat at the table. “No one else but you, of course darlin’.”

“Do you know when Bradley and the others are getting back into town?” she had asked him some time later. Maverick sighed, sitting back in his chair with a wistful look on his face.

“I don’t. You know how those boys are. Here one minute, gone the next. If I’ve told them once, I’ve told them a thousand times, ‘keep me posted so I know you’re still alive.’ Do they listen to me? No, I’m just an overly cautious, old man.”

“You’re not that old,” Penny smiled, causing the corners of Maverick’s mouth to twitch into a small, returning one. “You’ve still got a couple of years, I’d say.”

“How kind of you to say,” Maverick laughed. He stood up from the table, stretching. “That was a mighty fine meal you two girls cooked up. But, I have some things I need to tend to before the night is over. Y/n, you’ll be joining us at church in the morning, won’t you?”

“Oh, I wasn’t sure I was allowed to,” you said, setting your fork down sheepishly. Penny smiled at you warmly.

“Of course you are! You don’t need an invitation to attend service. The reverand will be happy to meet you, and I’m sure it’ll be a good opportunity to see where you’ll be teaching the young ones. When did you want to start? We can announce it while everyone is gathered tomorrow.”

“Oh,” you said, thinking. Much like every other decision you had made recently, you decided to dive head first into the opportunity. “I can begin on Monday. Let’s say, eight o’clock? I can start getting things ready tomorrow afternoon after the service, provided that’s alright with the reverend.”

“I don’t see why that would be a problem,” said Maverick. “I’ll let him know as soon as we get there tomorrow morning. Have a pleasent evening, ladies. Penny, I’ll probably be late, so don’t wait up.”

“That man never stays still for long,” Penny sighed, smiling fondly after her husband. Standing, she stacked the dishes in her hands and made her way to the kitchen. “You go on ahead to bed, sweetheart. I’ll get the dishes tonight.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, following after her, and she waved you off.

“‘Course! You’ve had a long day, and you’ve still got some unpacking to do. You can help me after breakfast in the morning.”

“Alright,” you relented, turning to head upstairs. “Goodnight, Penny.”

“Goodnight, darlin’.”

The following morning came quickly, and you found yourself excitedly walking into the sanctuary of the church in your Sunday best. A few people milled about you as they took their seats in the pews up and down the aisle. Some looked at you curiously, but you paid them no mind as you followed Maverick and Penny to the front of the church. You all sat down in the front pew and waited for the service to start.

“Did you hear?” said a girl to your left. “The Dagger Gang is back in town!”

“Really?” squealed her friend, earning looks from some of the older townfolk. “When did they arrive?”

“Just last night! Oh, that Jake is so handsome, isn’t he?” the first girl giggled. You heard someone snort, and turned to see a pretty girl a few rows back from you roll her eyes. She sat next to a handsome man who looked like he might be her brother and a pretty girl with dark hair and deep, brown eyes who smiled at him affectionately. The two girls continued, not paying any mind to the one who snorted.

“He is, but that Bradley isn’t so bad on the eyes either! It’s been horrible going this long without seeing all those handsome men walking around town,” said the second girl.

Her friend nodded enthusiastically. “You’re right. A month is simply too long.”

Before her friend could reply, the reverend made his way to the front to begin the service. The chatter died down as the reverend began to speak. It was a lovely service, and before you knew it, the hour had passed. The reverand gestured to Maverick, who stood up and turned to face the rest of the congregation.

“Mornin’, folks,” he said, earning a cacophony of “good mornings” from those around him. “You all know me, and you also know that we’ve been doin’ our best to get a school established here in Maverick. Well, I’m happy to announce that as of yesterday, our humble, little town finally has a new teacher!”

He gestured to you, and you stood up shyly, waving at the people surrounding you. Several people clapped and you could have sworn you heard a few people say “finally!” Maverick continued.

“Unfortunately, we still don’t have a schoolhouse built for our little critters, so for the foreseeable future, I’ll be looking for volunteers to help me build not only a schoolhouse, but a home for our wonderful new addition.”

“Thank you, Pete,” said the reverend as Maverick sat back down. “If anyone should have any questions for our new teacher, I believe she’ll be taking some time to get our sanctuary ready for school tomorrow morning. Eight o’clock, was it?”

“Yes,” you chirped. The reverend smiled.

“Eight o’clock tomorrow morning is when school will start. I hope to see many young, shining faces here on time ready to learn! That’s all I have for today. May God bless you all this fine Sunday.”

You sat back as the congregation began to file out of the sanctuary. Once everyone had left, you got up and walked up to the front. Behind the pulpit, you found the slate tablets that Penny had told you about earlier that morning. You grabbed a few of them and began to place them in the first few rows of the pews. You began to hum a little melody as you worked, allowing the sound to roll through you. Your mother had always been proud of your ability to sing.

“Like an angel here on earth,” she had said once. You had shied away from the compliment, but it never deterred you from enjoying the hobby.

“Amazing grace, how sweet the sound,” you sang as you walked back up towards the pulpit to grab more slates. “That saved a wretch like me.”

Turning, you moved to the other side of the aisle, repeating the task from before.

“I once was lost, but now am found,” you continued, turning back to grab the last few remaining tablets. Gathering them up in your arms, you turned. “Was blind, but now I see.”

Your finished the last note, looking up towards the door and nearly dropping the slates in your arms as you jumped. Standing in the doorway was a devistatingly handsome man. His skin was golden like it had been kissed by the sun itself, and chestnut brown hair curled at his forehead. His mustache sat above his lips that were curled into a small smile as he watched you with deep, brown eyes.

“Hey, little songbird. Don’t stop on my account,” he drawled, leaning against the doorframe. You didn’t say anything, to nervous to speak. This only seemed to amuse him, and he pushed off from the doorframe and started walking over towards you.

“That’s a pretty voice you got there,” he continued, causing you to tighten your hold on the tablets. “Maybe I can get a private show here soon.”

“C-c-can I help you?” you asked, cursing yourself for stuttering. The man hummed, coming to a stop in front of you. He was so tall, that you had to crane your head back in order to meet his gaze. He looked at you thoughtfully, biting his bottom lip before leaning down so close that his breath fanned over your face.

“That depends,” he smirked. “What are you offering?”

“I don’t,” you started, but your sentence was cut off by a squeak as the man cornered you against the wall by the pulpit.

“You gonna let me have a taste, darlin’?” He asked huskily, sliding his hand down to grip your skirt.

“We’re in a church!” You gasped, your brain struggling to catch up with what was happening. You put a hand on his chest, trying to use the tablets to push him back. He chuckled, taking them out of your hand and tossing them to the floor.

“I won’t tell if you won’t.”

Your pulse skyrocketed and your breath caught in your throat as he leaned in closer, close enough for you to see the green in his eyes.

“Oh, Rooster,” called a voice in a sing-song tone. You glanced over to see another tall, handsome man. This one, however, was blond and just a breath shorter than the one currently caging you in.

“‘M busy,” the man—Rooster—grumbled, softly stroking your cheek. You felt the skin in where he touched you blaze, and you tried to suppress the shudder that ran up your spine. Rooster’s smirk returned as he pressed in closer to you.

“Rooster?”

Rooster continued to ignore the man, cupping your jaw. He leaned in so that his lips hovered over yours, and you let out an involuntary whimper, feeling your resolve weaken.

“Don’t worry,” he cooed softly. “I’ve got you.”

“Bradley.”

“What, Hangman?” Snapped Rooster, Bradley, whirling around to glare at the man, thunder in his eyes. The man, Hangman, didn’t seem phased by the sudden hostility of his friend. In fact, he looked bored as he inspected his fingernails, propped up against the door frame where Bradley had just been minutes before.

“Well, Roo, I hate to interrupt your,” Hangman paused, casting you a quick glance before smirking, “fun, but we do have some things we need to take care of.”

Bradley didn’t say anything, still looking at Hangman with a thunderous look. Hangman cocked an eyebrow as if to challenge Bradley to argue.

“Have you even found Maverick?” Hangman asked exasperatedly.

“Maverick?” You questioned, your sense slowly coming back to you now that Bradley wasn’t quite so close. “He left already.”

Both men turned to look at you.

“Do you know where we can find him?” Asked Hangman, standing up straight now, hand on his hip.

“I believe he and Penny went home,” you said carefully, unsure of what these men wanted with your host.

“Well, thank you kindly, darlin’,” Hangman said, throwing you a wink before sauntering out the door. A moment passed and Bradley turned back to look at you, but your gaze was focused on your hands. Bradley’s hand reached out to cup your cheek again, pulling your face up to look at him. An unreadable expression was on his face as he studied you. His thumb gently stroked your bottom lip, and you once again found yourself having difficulty breathing and focusing on a single thought. His hand was so warm.

Bradley seemed to make up his mind about whatever it was he was thinking about, and he pulled away with another smirk. He turned and walked down the aisle of the church and out the door without another word to you. You shook your head in an attempt to clear it.

You quickly placed the rest of the tablets in the pews and waved goodbye to the reverend who had wandered back in from outside. You dragged your feet a little more than what was necessary as you made your way back to the house. You spotted several horses tied up by the gate outside, and you took a steadying breath to brace yourself for what, or who, was on the other side of the door. You stopped just outside and debated on whether or not it was too late to run off to another town. Deciding against it, you swung the door open before you lost your nerve. A group of six men were sprawled across varying pieces of furniture in the parlor, two of whom were now familiar to you. Both looked at you in surprise, but Bradley’s shock quickly turned into a lazy smirk.

“Well, hi Birdie,” he drawled, earning looks from both Maverick and Penny. “What’re you doing here?”

[d3lly1000]

AU: TEAM SONIC HUMANIZED!

Hello! I don't post much here… But I want to change that! And to start, I finished the concepts for my take on "What if Sonic characters were human?" and voila. There it is!

I have HC'S and extra costumes for each one that I would like to share, so if you are interested, you can read this entire post to learn about my alternative :) (I will be giving credit for some versions that inspired me to create these babies too! X3) ~~~~~~ >>> SONIC, THE BLUE HERO

He is an athletic, supportive guy, loves running and likes to always keep moving. Contrary to what many people think, the "Blue Blur" cares a lot about his appearance and maintains his "SportLife" and "RacingLife" style;

He hates wearing pants. He always prefers baggy shorts!

His hair is originally wavy, but as time goes by it has lengthened with the help of the wind that always messes up his strands;

He is very popular with girls, but he is not that interested in it;

Fear of water in large quantities, specifically deep oceans and rivers;

The Bracelet with the greenish sphere on his right arm was a gift from his old friend Chip, but known as Light Gaia;

He has always grown up with his considered brother, Miles, being one of his greatest inspirations;

Secretly tries to impress people, more specifically Amy;

He always arm wrestles with Knuckles, but he always loses; • After he grows up, he tends to reduce his playfulness. Although this is a characteristic trait of his personality, it is a way for him to convey confidence to those he loves;

>>> AMY ROSE, THE FEARLESS HEROINE

She is a kind, sweet, loving and very generous girl. Amy always helps people and tries to do her best to welcome anyone in need;

But don't let her loves fool you, she can also be quite aggressive and fearsome when necessary;

Boys are afraid of seeing her angry;

Her style is focused on delicate blouses, dresses and lots of bows;

Her high-heeled boots make her look a little taller, but she is actually short;

She really likes cooking and giving Sonic surprise Chilidogs;

Knuckles is like an older brother to her. He is super protective, although he doesn't doubt that she can defend herself;

Tails and her spend a lot of time together while Sonic is away, making her a great friend and advisor;

Amy "secretly" has a crush on Sonic, although she never confesses it directly, she finds the Blue Boy's unstoppable and righteous nature very attractive;

• She has a great appreciation for romance and hero movies. She is inspired to protect everyone and lead the Resistance, even though she is often under pressure, she is a good-hearted girl;

>>> MILES "TAILS" PROWER, THE PRODIGY GENIUS

Tails is a young prodigy, he loves technology and creating new technological devices never seen before. He is the great creator of several prototypes used during the Resistance War against Dr. Eggman's Domino World.

Despite being a young genius, he is still a child. He likes to read science fiction and watch movies related to Heroes, and Amy usually accompanies him;

He sees Sonic as his older brother and dreams of one day becoming as great as him;

He is very afraid of thunder, which makes him very distressed during storms;

Knuckles and he developed a great friendship, he venerates him a lot and also aims to be a great protector like him;

He has already created a little robot fox to help him on missions. In addition to being a faithful partner, it also contains several upgrades for attack, defense and even espionage;

Tails wears his sweatshirt tied around his waist the wrong way around, making a parallel from the sleeves to his 2 tails…

>>> KNUCKLES, THE LAST MASTER GUARDIAN

He is extremely strong, has great control over his strength and resistance. Even though he is considered a "hot-headed" guy, Knuckles does recurring meditations to be able to control his inner forces;

He and Sonic have a very competitive friendship, both like to tease and make fun of each other whenever they have the opportunity;

Knuckles tends to be quite protective of Amy, so much so that it is one of the reasons he tends to be hard on Sonic sometimes;

He and Rouge also live a great "cops and robbers", and even though the Bat clearly shows an interest in him, Knuckles does not understand this yet;

He is the Guardian of the Master Emerald, so he is quite committed to his responsibilities, being very strict about it;

He usually wears very baggy pants, tank tops, leather vests and his trusty "cowboy" hat; ~~~~~~~~ ALTERNATIVE COSTUME:

EASTER EGG COSTUME:

My Inspirations: - @/Hallsth_eien - @/Angie Nekoblue - @/Lauren Ilustrated Thanks for read this!! And sorry for my bad English <3

[feyd-meowtha]

Snippet from Our House AU - Bucky teaches(?) Ken how to drive

“The breaks. The breaks! THE BREAKS! Jesus Christ, Kenny hit the god damn brakes right now or-” Bucky cried, clinging onto the handle just above the window for dear life. The car was older than he was and to his knowledge the seatbelts had never been changed, so he was far form confident in the thing’s ability to stop him flying head first through the windscreen and going splat on the asphalt up ahead.

“I’m breaking, I’m breaking,” said Ken, trying to sound serious but unable to hide the sound of his smile as he eased the wheezing vehicle back from the brink.

“What the hell was that?” Bucky gasped, rubbing a hand over his eyes and watching as the scenery around them stopped whipping by at light speed.

“We’re on the highway,” replied Ken as if Bucky had asked a stupid question.

“Yes, and how many times have you been on the highway?”

“Once. Just now.”

“Yes, so it would be wise not to go TWENTY above the god damn SPEED LIMIT,” Bucky said. He wanted a cigarette. “This was my grandma’s fucking cab and her ghost will haunt the shit out of your ass if you run her into a ditch."

Then he added under his breath "Speedy little bastard.”

Ken chuckled and shook his head, sinking back into his seat.

“Stop your whinging, it’s fine,” he said, moving his lower hand out of the correct 10 and 2 positions. “See, she’s in good hands. I know how to treat a lady.”

“See, from that demonstration, I don’t think you do, cus with ladies you gotta wine and dine ‘em a little before you take her for a ride at a million god damn miles an hour. From this display I would guess you never even seen a woman, let alone treated one any which way. Turn left here” he said, pointing them toward the road that would take them back into the city.

“Well, that’s where you’d be mistaken,” said Ken, neatly flicking on the indicator light and rounding the groaning taxicab around the corner.

“Oh yeah?”

“Emma Turner, Year Twelve.”

“And how was she?”

“Nothing compared to-” Ken started, before he paused, asking, “what’s her name?”

“Babs,” replied Bucky, his fingers massaging his aching forehead.

“Emma Turner was nothing compared to Babs.”

“Yeah, yeah. Eyes on the road, rookie. She's way too old for you.”

Bucky was grateful to be back on the path toward safety. His reluctance to be killed by Ken’s reckless driving surprised him as he had always been something of a fan of reckless driving himself. He guessed it must be the control aspect, dying in a wreck of his own making seemed fair enough, dying in a wreck caused by his best friend’s lunatic boyfriend, not so much. They drove for a while until they passed a diner he recognised and he urged Ken to stop.

“You owe me a beer after that shit and I’m driving us home,” he said, as Ken manoeuvred them into the car park and made an annoyingly clean reverse park. For all that he gave him shit, the kid really was a natural driver. “With any luck you can pass your test in a month and Babs can breathe a sweet sigh of relief.”

“Nah, she’d miss me.”

A minute later they were sitting at a corner table with matching beers, the glasses sparkling with condensation. Bucky took a long pull from his, licking foam scum out of his moustache and sighing.

“Remind me why I’m doing this again,” he said, it came out a little muffled as he probed the bristles on his upper lip with his tongue.

“Because you’re a kind person who wants to help his friends," he paused for a moment to let the flattery do its work, "and you’re the only one who has a car.”

“And you don’t know how to drive because?”

“I’m from London,” Ken said, as if it answered the question.

“And your dad can’t teach you cus?”

“He’s from London too.”

Bucky shook his head, fishing a smoke out of his cigarette and lighting it.

“No wonder Aston Martin went down the shitter.”