#but also i need it in writing instead of in my head

[navybrat817]

All Dressed Up

Pairing: Biker!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky visits a gallery to support his best friend and unexpectedly meets the girl of his dreams.

Word Count: Over 2.3k

Warnings: First meeting, mild dirty thoughts, instacrush, swearing, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Okay, lovelies. A new AU. I'm sorry. @targaryenvampireslayer @tavners @starlightcrystalline @whisperlullaby @sgt-seabass @vesearlee , I feel like you all either heard me screech, encouraged, or helped me, and I appreciate you. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo and divider by the incredible @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky didn’t dress up for most people since it wasn’t his style. He would do so for any of his brothers though, especially Steve. His best friend since childhood, and his club’s president, he always had a love and talent for drawing and painting. And after working his ass off on his exhibit it would’ve been a crime for the vice president not to show up.

Steve promised if there was ever a day when Bucky’s writing became published he’d be by his side to celebrate too. As much as they liked to give each other shit sometimes about art and how they created it, the support was there through and through. The only catch for tonight was that he had to dress nicely to get into the gallery. So, instead of the usual leather jacket or vest he wore and jeans, he went with a plain black suit and white button up shirt.

He refused to wear a tie since it wasn’t a wedding. He had to draw a line somewhere. No one paid him any mind though as they walked around the gallery, and he was more than fine with that. This wasn’t his night.

“You should be proud, punk,” Bucky said, looking over the art lining the large wall, each piece crafted with care.

“I am proud, jerk,” Steve smiled. He hadn’t worn a tie either, and it made Bucky feel a little better. “And you know you don’t have to stay the whole time.”

Bucky knew that. He also knew members and prospects would be trickling in and out throughout the evening. “Not needed at the bar tonight, so I can stay as long as I want. But I might cut out early since I see your face enough between that and the club.”

Steve chuckled. “Still haven’t sold the place, huh?”

The brunette sighed. It wasn’t the first time Steve asked if he was going to sell the bar to focus more on writing. “Where the hell would you all hang out if I sold the place?” He liked the bar. It wasn’t just a great hangout for the club, but for his other regulars, too.

“There are other bars,” Steve teased. He said that, but he loved the bar, too. “You know I just want you to-”

��Follow my compass. I know. You’ve said that so many…” He stopped talking when he saw an unexpected angel walk into the room.

Well, angel was the word that came to mind since you were wearing a white dress and the light over your head illuminated you like a halo. But as his eyes swept over you, he wondered if there was a bit of a devil in you. He wouldn’t mind bringing that side out of you if you gave him the chance.

And here he used to think love at first sight was bullshit.

“Hey. Do you know her?” Bucky subtly nodded in your direction as you spoke to another woman, jealousy flaring up for a second at the thought of his best friend knowing you and not telling him. And if you knew Steve, that was that before things even started. While the blonde didn’t have much game growing up, he came into his own after his growth spurt, and everyone adored or wanted him.

Steve shook his head. “No, I don’t,” he said, making Bucky’s shoulders slump in relief before his friend scrutinized him. “Jesus, are you eye fucking her? You are, aren’t you?”

Bucky wasn’t the least bit ashamed. “And I’ll keep doing it ‘til she looks at me,” he replied, wishing you’d at least spare him a glance and get a look at him in his nice suit. Maybe you weren’t into guys with tattoos and piercings, but he was certain he could change your mind if that was the case.

“How long has it been since you’ve been on a date?” Steve asked. “Just introduce yourself like a gentleman and see where that goes.”

“A couple of months? Something like that.” Tearing his gaze away to glance at his inked hands, he chuckled. “You think I’m a gentleman?”

He could be dangerous and downright dirty when the occasion called for it, but just because he rode a motorcycle and covered himself in tattoos and piercings didn’t mean he treated others poorly. He was raised better than that. Even with his ex-girlfriends, things never ended because he didn’t treat them well. They just weren’t the one.

“We both know you are. Sometimes,” Steve answered, smirking as a beat passed. “And she’s looking your way.”

Bucky’s head snapped up to find you looking right at him with a curious stare. You had the prettiest eyes he had ever seen. Which was nothing compared to your smile. It was like watching the sun slowly rise to meet the day.

Fuck, he was being sappy. You ruined him with a single stare, and he wanted to ruin you in return. Make it so you wouldn’t want another man.

You whispered something to the woman beside you before she nudged you forward and he realized Steve pushed him to move, too. It only took three more steps before he was right in front of you, the gentle smell of your sweet perfume filling his nostrils. Need slammed into his body as you smiled again, and he actually felt the blue of his eyes shrink as his pupils widened.

If Steve thought he was eye fucking you before…

“Hey,” he said, his voice raspier than usual.

“Hi,” you said. It was a voice he could listen to for hours and he wondered what it would sound like when you said his name.

“I’m Bucky.” He took a smaller step closer, trying his damnedest to block out any other man around him so you’d keep those pretty eyes on him.

You introduced yourself, too, and it was a name he would never forget. “I like your tattoos,” you added almost shyly. Almost.

If he had his way, you’d see the rest of them soon enough. “Thanks,” he smiled, holding one hand up to show you. “Dressed like this, I bet you think I’m part of the mob.” After getting dressed and adding the gold jewelry, even he thought for a split second he looked like a mobster.

“Are you or is that information I can’t be privy to?” you asked, making him chuckle. You didn’t skip a beat, and he liked that.

“Not part of the mob, but I am part of a motorcycle club,” he replied. He wore his patch with pride and that didn’t seem to scare you, which was good. “I also own a bar.” He didn’t know why added that part. You didn’t ask and he didn’t want to brag, but there he was.

“So, you ride a motorcycle, and you own a bar?” You glanced back at your friend to ask her, “Do you mind if I…”

“I’m good. You two talk,” your friend smiled, giving Bucky an encouraging wink. He looked back to find that Steve walked away, too.

You smiled as you faced Bucky again. “Well, I’m happy to hear more about either of those things if you have time.”

“Yeah.” A lopsided smile appeared before he could stop it. “I got time,” he said. All the time in the world.

Over the next hour, the two of you stayed close together and talked in between looking at Steve’s pieces. He told you he was there to support Steve and talked a little bit more about the bar he owned. A hole in the wall kind of place he fixed up. While he wasn’t a big drinker, he loved making them for his regulars, and his profession allowed him to get away with all the tattoos.

“I’ll have to stop by sometime,” you smiled before it faltered. “If that’s okay.”

He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but his heart raced, and he wanted to see you smile again. “I’ll hold you to that,” he teased. “What about you? What do you do for work?”

You told him that you were a blood bank nurse and still fairly new to the area. While you didn’t have too many friends nearby, you liked your neighborhood and the one friend you had made invited you to the gallery since she was an art enthusiast. You also let it slip that you were single upon your move here, which he was happy to hear since he was, too, but he didn’t miss the note of sadness in your voice.

He could help fix it if you were lonely.

“I’m not seeing anyone either,” he stated.

You raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “You don’t have an old lady?” His eyes went right to your lip when he bit it. “That is the correct term of endearment, right?”

“That’s right,” he said, his eyes soft. “Both of those things are right.”

You bit your lip again and he wasn’t sure if you were purposely trying to entice him, but now he wanted to bite your lip. “So, do you do anything for fun outside of riding and work?”

He almost groaned when you said “riding” and he had to shake his head to keep his mind from drifting. He couldn’t think of you being on his bike with your arms wrapped tight around him or you riding him or anything like that. “Well…”

He explained that he wrote a bit in his spare time outside of work and the club. It was a hobby mostly, but it would be a dream come true to get his work out there one day. If not, that was okay, too, because he had a decent life and didn’t need much. His bike, his brothers.

But to have an old lady…

“Maybe I could read…” you frowned when you saw the time. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how late it was. I should get going,” you said, disappointment filling both of you.

“Oh.” He scratched the back of his neck. The two of you were having a nice talk, and he hadn’t had a chance to ask about your hobbies yet. “It’s still kinda early. Do you really have to go?” he asked, realizing just how desperate he sounded. God, if the prospects could hear him right now… He just didn’t want the night to end.

“Yeah, I do. I’m actually working a blood drive tomorrow and could use the rest,” you said, smiling sadly. He felt like an ass for asking you to stay when you had work to do. “I don’t know if you’ve heard anything about it, but you’re welcome to stop by if you want to donate. I always have this fear that people won’t show, which I realize sounds ridiculous.”

Bucky mentally kicked his ass for not knowing about a local blood drive. He was usually more on top of those sorts of things. “Where’s it at?” You gave the location and time, which was all he needed. “I’ll be there,” he promised.

And every single club member would be there, too, if they knew what was good for them.

“Really?” you smiled, your hand bumping his when you turned to face him. “You’ll go?”

He let his fingers brush yours and he smiled to himself when he felt the light shiver. “Of course, doll.”

“Doll?” you giggled. He hoped he didn’t offend you. “I hope you show,” you added in a small voice, your gaze focused on the ground.

Frowning a bit, he wondered if you didn’t believe him. Did someone let you down before? “If I say I’ll be there…” He lifted your chin, so you’d look into his eyes. He needed you to see the truth in them. “I’ll be there.”

You exhaled, staring deeply into his eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow then,” you whispered.

He grudgingly released you, knowing he had to. Besides, if he kept touching you, there was a good chance he’d pin you against the wall and show you what a work of art you were. “Good night,” he whispered, watching you go back to your friend. She linked her arm with yours as you glanced back, keeping your eyes on Bucky until you were out of sight.

He exhaled, mentally kicking his ass again. Why the fuck didn’t he ask for your number? You two hit it off, and you wanted to see him at least in some capacity beyond the blood drive, right?

Steve made a beeline for him as he stayed rooted to the spot. “It looks like you two hit it off. You know you didn’t even say hi to Chris or Sam or-”

“We’re going to a blood drive tomorrow,” he cut in. He hoped people would show, but he gave you his word he’d be there, and the club was all about giving back to the community.

The blonde’s eyebrows pinched. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Blood drive. Tomorrow. Everyone,” he said, giving his friend a hard stare. “You’re the president. Make it happen.”

“You’re the vice president, which means you supervise plans for club events or gatherings. That includes last minute things,” he pointed out, his eyebrows shooting up as Bucky got his phone out and typed quickly. “You’re serious about this?”

“Is it too much to say, ‘You better fucking be there or you’ll pay for it later’?”

The blonde grinned. A shit-eating, knowing grin, and he wanted to smack him. “This is all for her, isn’t it?”

Bucky sighed. He hadn't expected to meet someone so perfect tonight. “She’s a nurse and I wanna help. Besides, it’s good for the community and you’re all about that shit.” And he had to make a better impression after not asking for your number. “Will you at least promise you’ll be there?”

“To watch my whipped best friend fawn over a pretty nurse? Hell yeah.”

“Beautiful,” he corrected him. “She’s beautiful.”

And while Bucky would fawn over you tomorrow, he also hoped he’d get your number.

So, what do we think so far? Part of this writing style was slightly different for me, but I like how it turned out! I still need to give this reader a nickname and the AU a name, but this is a start. I can't wait for the whole club to show up at the blood drive. I also have something silly and cute planned for these two. ❤️ Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[cevansbrat0007]

Bold Moves

Summary: You decide to slip Ari your panties during an innocent encounter at the public library...

Warnings: Mature Themes, Smut, Ari Being A Menace, Brat!Reader, Brief Discussions of Body Image, Bird Being Brave, Going Commando, Light Roleplaying, Frisking, Manhandling, Spanking, Ass Slapping, P in V Sex, Implied Overstimulation, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Decided to finish this when I came across it in my drafts. Takes place earlier in Ari and Bird's romantic relationship. Part of my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

“I’m so glad you pitched me this idea, Marisol.” You beam as you finish writing in your notebook. “I know it’s still early yet, but I would love to collaborate with you for Halloween.”

“Yes!” The younger woman cheers, throwing her arms up in the air. “I knew I picked the right woman.”

“Just I knew they picked the right woman to run the town library.” You throw her a wink before tucking your pad and pen back into your purse. “Now, I hate to cut this meeting short…” Out of habit you press a hand against your belly, silently wishing you’d opted to throw on a pair of spanx this morning instead of a flimsy pair of panties. 

Frankly, you were tired of sucking it in. But every time you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror you looked pretty damn good. Perhaps your confidence was growing after all. 

“But I need to get home and change so I can run by the shop before it gets too late.” You finish, feeling grateful when the sweet librarian sees fit to lead you out of her office.

“Sooo…” The dark-haired woman drags out the word, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper as you both come around the corner. “Word on the street is that you’ve been seeing a lot of Detective Levinson lately. Everything good, I hope?”

 “What do you mean?” You respond, willing your pulse to remain steady. “Everything’s fine. He just…likes for me to call him whenever something new pops up about Martin. That’s all.”

And whenever you lock up in the evening. And when you make it home. And then again to decide if he’s coming to your place for the night. Or, if you’re already on the back roads heading to his. 

It was all so fun and exciting. But at the same time, it was just sex. Amazing sex, mind you. But just sex all the same.    

Instead of responding immediately, Marisol simply chooses to link her arm through yours. “Mm. While I haven’t lived here long, I’ve already learned how much this town loves gossip.” She muses. “Which is why I try to fly under the radar at all times.”

“Uh huh.” You give her a gentle nudge. “Even when it comes to a certain Officer Milton?”

“Shh! We do no not speak that man’s name in this house!”

“Why not?”

“Because I feel like he always goes out of his way to just…be around. He’s like a puppy. I do not have time for puppies, chica. I’m too busy building a career amongst the books.”

“Well sugar, I suppose you might wanna tell him that.”

“Ay, but that would involve making conversation. Something I also do not have time for because–”

“Because he’s standing over there by the door, talking to our favorite resident detective.” You interrupt with a giggle, prompting the other woman to drop your arm in a flourish before racing off back in the direction of her office before squeaking out “you never saw me” - leaving you alone. 

You allow yourself to stand there for another moment, content with watching the two men talk. While both were easy on the eyes, you were only interested in one of them. Glancing down at your outfit, you once again reassure yourself that you’re looking pretty damned good. 

And then – just that fast – an idea strikes you.

Refusing to overthink what it was you were about to do, you discreetly make your way into the ladies room. After checking to make sure you were alone, you slip into a stall. Reaching underneath your skirt, you slide your lacy black panties down your thighs before stepping out of them. 

Biting your lip, you tuck the small scrap of fabric into your pocket. Once you’re finished, you go to leave. But not before stopping long enough to refresh your lip gloss and fluff your curls. And then you’re out the door.

Hopefully you’d be able to catch the handsome bounty hunter before he left.

Thankfully, it doesn’t take you long to find him. He’s right where you saw him last – near the front of the library still talking to Milton. As you near the two, you can’t help but wonder if you’ll be able to pull this off without making an absolute fool of yourself. 

But first you’d have to find a way to get rid of Officer Milton without making your intentions obvious. And then it hits you. While it might be wrong, it was officially time to pawn him off on your favorite new friend.

Marisol.

“Good afternoon, Officer Milton.” You chirp as you sidle forward, politely interrupting their conversation. “Detective Levinson.” Of course you’re immediately met with smiles from both men. 

“Well get a load a’ you.” Milton gives a playful whistle once he gets a good look at your business attire. “Lookin’ sharp, darlin. Goin’ somewhere special?”

“Actually, I just came from a meeting down at the bank.” You tell them, smoothing your hands along your gray pencil skirt. 

“Ahh.” The officer nods. “Fingers crossed all went well.”

“It did. Thank you.” Delicately clearing your throat, you make a show of glancing around before directing your complete attention to the young officer in front of you. “While I hate to interrupt you two when you’re hard at work, I think Marisol might need you.”

“She does?” The man immediately perks up, vaguely reminding you of your neighbor’s golden retriever. 

“Yep.” You wince inwardly, hating yourself for lying. “Not sure what it’s about, but I think she’s somewhere in the back.” 

Just like that, a switch has been flipped and Officer Milton is off on the hunt for a sweet little librarian who most certainly did not need him. Fingers crossed she would catch the hint and just go with it. 

And now you’re alone with the one man with the power to leave you breathless. You were constantly left tied up in knots around this man. But today it was finally time you turned the tables on this guy. 

“How’s the manhunt going, Detective? Any new leads?”

“I’m afraid I can’t discuss this part of my investigation with you, Miss.” He says, flashing you a rather charming smile. “But if you hear from our guy Martin anytime soon, be sure to give me a call.”

“Of course.” You nod, feeling your cheeks heat. “Well, I’d best be goin’ now.”

“Be safe gettin’ home.” 

“Same to you. Detective.”

And then, without sparing him so much as a warning glance, you discreetly remove your panties from their hiding spot and slip them into the back pocket of his jeans. To his credit, Ari doesn’t move a muscle. Instead he continues to stare straight ahead, his gaze never wavering.  

Head held high, you manage to make it all the way to your car before collapsing in a fit of nervous laughter. While you wished you could’ve seen his face, you know deep down that you were better off running off the way you had.  

Maybe he’d call you tonight and maybe he wouldn’t. But all that mattered is that you’d mustered up enough confidence to make some bold moves this afternoon, which by all accounts made you a bad bitch.

Later That Same Evening…

It’s been hours since you pulled that stunt with Ari, but as luck would have it, you still had yet to hear from him. Not that you were worried or anything. In fact, if you had to choose an emotion, you were more disappointed than anything else.

While you’d long since abandoned your high heels by your front door, you were still wearing the outfit you’d worn to the bank. You’d simply been too excited to go by the shop so you’d decided to remain closed for the day.

Heaving a sigh as you rise from the couch, you’re in the middle of debating whether or not it’s worth trying to cobble together something for dinner when you hear the sound of your doorbell. Confused, you go to reach for your phone, only to frown when you see there’s nothing from the one man you wanted to hear from most.

The bell chimes again, prompting you to get a move on. “I’m comin’, I’m comin’!” You mumble, stretching your arms above your head. Opening the door, you’re treated to the sight of a large man standing on your porch with his hands in his pocket, his official badge prominently displayed on his hip. 

Hello, Detective Ari Levinson. 

“Evening, Miss. Apologies for bothering you so late.” 

“Why hello, Detective. Somethin’ I can help you with?” You do your best to keep your tone light while you wait for him to explain himself.

“Sure hope so. Got a report about someone engaging in some inappropriate behavior.” He informs you, barely concealing his smirk as he leans his big body against the porch railing.

“Is that right?”

“Fraid so.” He nods solemnly. “In fact, I actually found a trail of evidence that led me right here to your front door.”

“I…well, there has to be some mistake.” You protest, your hand flying to your chest. 

“Huh.” Ari sucks on his teeth as he reaches into his pocket to retrieve a small scrap of lacy black fabric. “Then you wouldn’t happen to know who these belong to, would you?”

Your eyes go wide at the sight of your panties dangling from one thick index finger. 

“I’m not sure what you’re implying, but they’re certainly not mine.” You sniff haughtily. “I’ve never seen those before in my life.”

“Now, Miss.” He gently chastises, taking another step towards you, invading your space. “Perhaps I should warn you that it’s a crime to lie to a member of law enforcement.” Instead of responding you simply fold your arms across your heaving bosom. 

The nerve of this man, thinking he had the right to question you like this right out in the open. Honestly, what would your neighbors think? The scandal!

“You know what? I’m thinkin’ I’m gonna need to search the premises.” The bounty hunter moves to enter your home, only to growl when your hand stops him short. “It’s also a felony to impede an official investigation.” Ari grunts, his brow furrowing in annoyance.

“And I'm thinkin’ I'm gonna need to see a warrant first, Detective.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you watch his eyes darken - his nostrils flaring ever so slightly. 

“I’m sure a good girl like you ain’t got nothin’ to hide.” Ari rasps, leaning in so that his mouth now hovers a mere inch above your ear. “Unless…”

“Unless what?” You respond, sounding a little more breathless than you’d like.

“Unless there’s something in there you don’t want me to find?”

“I don’t have anything to hide.” Blowing out a breath you decide to give the man what he wants, if only to see what comes next

“Not sure I believe you, sweetheart.”

“Fine.” You concede. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to let you come in for a quick look. But you’ve gotta be fast.” You tell him, poking him in the shoulder before turning to lead him into your home. “Because I’m expecting company any minute and we don’t need an audience.”

“We’ll see.”

Your pulse kicks up when you hear Ari shut the door behind you, followed by the quiet snick of the lock. Guess that meant he thought he was staying awhile. Just as you open your mouth to protest, you’re caught off guard when he brushes by you, allowing you to catch a hint of his cologne. 

“I’m not sure what you’re on, Detective.” You say, shooting him your fiercest glare. Meanwhile, this man responds with his most lethal grin. “But I’m giving you five minutes to figure it out before I–” 

“You know, Miss, I didn’t wanna ask you this outside. Especially given the already delicate nature of this investigation. But do you happen to be wearing any panties?”

“Excuse me?!” His question has your mouth falling open, your cheeks burning hot with outrage.

“Answer the question.” His eyes track your every movement as you slowly back away in the direction of the stairs. “Because every good girl I know puts on a pair of panties before leaving the house for the day.”

“Goodnight, Detective Levinson.” You hiss before turning and taking the stairs two by two. “Please see yourself out before I’m forced to call your supervisor.”

Your words are met with silence. And it’s not until you reach the edge of your bedroom that you hear him moving – up the same stairs you’d just scaled only seconds before. You can hardly suppress a shiver as the heady thrum of anticipation courses through you. 

“I hate to break it to you, sweetheart.” Ari growls softly as his impressive form fills your doorway, effectively blocking your only exit. “But I’m not through with my investigation.” It’s a struggle to ignore just how good he looks taking up space in your bedroom like this. 

“I want you to leave.”

“Oh, I will. As soon as I’m finished.” He takes a step towards you, rolling up his sleeves as he does. “But first, I’m gonna need you to turn and place your hands on the wall.”

“I–I will do no such thing!” Comes your almost breathless reply. “I’m not a criminal.”

“Hm.” Ari cocks his head, his magnetic blue eyes leering at your much smaller, curvier frame. “But you are a suspect.” In less than a fraction of a second, this man is now standing in front of you. “And it would be rather reckless of me if I didn’t pat you down.” One large hand curls itself around your bicep before gently leading to a nearby wall. “You should know that I’m a bit of a stickler when it comes to following protocol.” 

Blood roaring in your ears, you place both of your hands on the cool surface. Taking a deep breath, you can’t help but jump when he kicks your feet apart, forcing you to spread your legs even wider, granting him better access.

“I’m gonna report you.” Unfortunately for you, your flimsy threat does nothing to deter him.

Your eyes fall shut when you feel two large, warm hands glide their way up and down your arms. It feels as tempting as it does comforting. He repeats the action twice more, almost as if he’s trying to lull you into a false sense of security. 

Next, those wandering hands are stroking along your sides, greedily following the path of your curves. And then you feel him bury his nose in the crook of your neck. It’s impossible to miss his soft groan as he inhales your sweet scent.

“Now I’ve gotta ask you, little Bird.” He hums, his sharp teeth nipping at your ear. “Do you have anything on you that could stab, stick, or poke me?” 

“N-no.” 

God, you were so fucking wet right now it’s embarrassing. And you can’t stop the moan that catches in your throat when his sensual ministrations move to your breasts – cupping, massaging, and kneading. He lewdly palms them through your blouse, this thumps paying extra attention to your hardened nipples. Your back arches of its own accord as he continues to play with your body.

And there’s a part of you that hates yourself for the way he makes you respond.  

“Hm. So far so good, baby. Proud of you for keeping your hands where I can see ‘em.” Now his hands are skimming down your hips to toy with the hem of your skirt. His warm breath dances along your sensitive skin, making you shiver. “But now it’s time for the big question.” Ari begins inching your skirt higher and higher. “And don’t you dare lie to me. Are you–”

“This ain’t right, Detective!” You protest, protectively clenching your thighs together. However, your words only make him chuckle. “Pretty sure this is an illegal search and seizure.”

“As a member of law enforcement, I would have to respectfully disagree with you.” He says at the same time as he grinds himself against you, his massive erection pressing into your lower back. “It’s my job to keep the community safe. And to deal with naughty girls who go around handing out their unmentionables to strangers.” Your skirt inches even higher now, stopping just short of revealing your dripping cunt. 

“And what do you know?” He purrs, holding you still as his hand dips between your thighs, cupping your most intimate flesh. “Looks like we’ve got a little liar on our hands. Don’t we?”

“Don’t. We.” The renewed authority in his tone makes your pussy quiver.

“Yes, Sir.”

“And how should we handle liars, sweetheart? Hm?” Your knees go weak when you feel two thick fingers spear their way through your messy folds, lightly strumming over your clit. “What should we do with you?”

“....I…don’t know….”

His deep chuckle has you squirming in his hold, your hips bucking as he continues to grind the heel of his palm against your sensitive nub.  

“Tell you what. You and I are about to have a serious conversation about what happens to pretty young ladies who can’t seem to tell the truth. Even when it’s in their best interest. What do ya say?”

“Y–yes, Sir.” You moan as your eyes threaten to roll back in your head, sparks of pleasure dancing behind your eyes. “Whatever you want – I’ll be so, sooo good!”

Thirty Minutes Later…

“Why the fuck you keep runnin’, baby?” Ari growls, smacking your bottom hard. “Yeah, get that juicy ass back here. Love watchin’ those cheeks bounce.”

The rhythmic sound of flesh slapping against flesh fills the room, spilling out into the hall as Ari drives into you over and over again with his impressive cock. 

He’d been hard for hours before he ever showed up on your doorstep. Frankly, he’d lost count of how many times he’d paused throughout the day to bring your panties to his nose. It was like he couldn’t seem to get enough of how good you smelled. But he also knew that wouldn’t be enough.

He needed to taste you. Needed your unique, earthy flavor on his tongue. 

Thankfully, he had no doubt that he’d have time to eat the fuck out of your sweet pussy later. After he was finished fucking you into oblivion for being such bad girl. Who would’ve guessed his little Bird had it in her to be so deliciously naughty?

Meanwhile, you’re too busy sobbing into a pillow to be proud of yourself right now, your hands fisting the sheets while your man exacts his revenge on your body. At this rate, you’d already cum twice. And here you were already roaring along to orgasm number three. 

Fuck, this man was a goddamned menace!

Your desperate cries grow louder as Ari picks up his pace, forcing you to clench around him as you finally resort to begging.

“Please, Ari!” You wail when he lifts your hips higher before adjusting the angle of his strokes. “I–ooh God–M’so close!”

“Oh yeah?” He snarls, the sound rumbling from somewhere deep in his chest. “Then let me see you work for it.” A sharp hiss escapes when his heavy palm comes down on your ass again, this time smacking both cheeks without so much as missing a beat. “This is how bad girls get punished.” You tense when he delivers yet another blow. “They’ve gotta work for their pleasure.”

“I’m sorry–wooh God!” Your voice comes out raw, bordering on hoarse.       

“That’s it, baby. Yeah, there we go.” He gifts you with another slap, earning a sharp yelp from you. “Yeah, throw it back like you love it.”

After an afternoon of being bad, there’s nothing you want more than to be good for this man. You wanted to please him. Make him happy. If only so he never stopped touching you. And you were trying – honest to God, you were.

But it was all too good. Too much. 

“Just know, everytime you run, I’m gonna drag that sweet ass right back.” Ari renews his punishing grip on your hips, holding you up even as your sweat slicked body starts to give out. “Now cum for me one more time so I can finally stop takin’ it easy on you, pretty Bird.”

END

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[valentine-cafe]

First time customer here, so kinda nervous (⁠〃ﾟ-ﾟ⁠〃⁠) but can I order a tiramisu and affogato(?) please!

they're in the middle of smexy time when it just gets overwhelming for reader and having to end up using their safe words, and reader being ashamed because they can usually take more than that?? also curious to see what safe words they would have!

[amab reader] idrc if reader is top or bottom, anything that works with you is fine! thank you (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

pssh feel free to reject this order (⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕)

˖⁺. ﹙ vampire lieutenant dilf  x bottom male reader x antihero mercenary boyfriend. ﹚ .𖹭 ݁

. . . you never have to apologise !! 🍒 :  vampiric ˖ lieutenant ˖ dilf character ˖ antihero ˖ mercenary ˖ enigma character character﹙ verse 781 vespsiano & alessio. ﹚

during your session with your boyfriend, it ends up getting a bit too overwhelming and in the heat of the moment, you say your safe word, only to get ashamed after cw: safeword usage, ending smut, anal

ps: why would we ever reject such a good order? this was lovely to write, thank you dear

﹙ alessio 781. ﹚. . . !! 🍒 : “A-Av - Avo -” Avocadoes.

He didn’t need to hear the entire word before his ramming hips stopped on impact. Cold sweat runs down the back of his neck and spine. Guilt floods his olive features. Shit.

Alessio pulls out of you in a split second. Hands raised in the slightest before he buffs out, his breath still far from him with the chase of release he ran for the both of you.

“Can - Can I - fuck -” he huffs out, attempts to steady his breathing. “Can I touch you amorcito? ‘s over. We done now.”

Your vision bugs, the sight of his face brings tears to the corners of your eyes as you give a small nod of your head. That look your beloved, sweet Alessio gave you was enough to twist guilt in your gut. The overwhelm now replaced by a hole of insecurity.

“I. . . ‘m-’m sorry ‘essio. . . I - I-I can - I can go a bit more actu -”

His thumb is on your cheek in a matter of minutes. A strong arm hooks around your back and hoists you against his warm skin. The frown on his lips sends your tears down your face - and he wipes them before you can even attempt to brush them away. “Hey, hey, sshhh.” his kiss meets your ear and warmth floods you chest from his deep, gentle voice. “Baby, breathe yeah? I don’t wanna do more. Tell me what’s going on.”

The silence followed tugged strings of discomfort through your body, yet you couldn’t bear to speak. Not yet. Instead you dwelled in the touch of his stroking hand

along your head and his soft murmurs telling you it was all alright.

“I. . . I-I can usually go for longer - I. . . . ‘m sorry. Just got overwhelmed.”

His smile brings you back to serenity and his lips press peppers lightly. Tenderly.

“Queriidooo, ssh. Don’t be silly.” You’re on his chest in a matter of seconds. Arms loose yet ever the refuge for you as you slump your head to his collarbone and whimper. “My main concern is you baby. Safeword means no more. I don’t care about you takin’ more in the past. What matters is the you now.”

His finger pokes at your forehead and he flashes you his usual signature grin.

﹙ vespasiano 781. ﹚. . . !! 🍒 : Droplets of sweat trickle down your body. The squeeze around your shaft and the rough pace of your husband from behind you is so overwhelming. More than it has ever been.

As much as you want to keep going. You feel as though you are going to faint from the overstimulation done across your body. Skillful hands working around you.

Grabbing, pulling, moving. His words encouraging as usual, yet the sound of the sugarcoated degradation rings in your ears a bit sharper than usual.

You choke out, looking up at him with wide, teary eyes. Already then he begins to slow his thrusts, double checking and awaiting any words that are to come.

“Ve—esp. Pop-ppopy” The word feels so strangled. But in an instant, you feel the man behind you stop any of the motions and pull out, gently shifting around on the bed to pick you up and slowly lay you down to make sure you don’t collapse.

He tries not to worry too much whether it was too hard or something else was going on. He’s more concerned with helping you right now, and making sure that you stay up and going with him.

Though, the tears of guilt and regret forming in your eyes say it all.

“Hey— heyheyhey, ‘s okay, don’t cry.” He ushers, hushing you gently whilst moving away any strands of hair from your face.

“I jus’ got s’ overwhelmed ‘m sorry— you, you can continue. It’s okay. I can go again—” You murmur, the embarrassment creeping up on you in such great amounts you can’t handle the situation in any proper way.

In response to your words, he shakes his head and smiles. Moving a thumb across your cheek while sitting up to get all of the stuff to clean you up with.

“Amore. Enough is enough, you just need rest. Alright? You did so well.” He reassures, emerald eyes gazing at you with an almost puppy-eyed look. “You never have to apologise for things becoming too much.”

“I just, I can go on for so much longer than this usually. . .” A sigh escapes him at your words, and all he does is once more shake his head.

“So? Today was not usually, maybe tomorrow?”

The soft chuckles warm you up once more, this time with gratitude at his understanding rather than embarrassment.

Grunting as he gets up from the bed, he walks towards the bathroom. Looking over his shoulder and back at you as he stops in the middle of the doorway.

“Let’s get you cleaned up yeah? Get some food after.”

[tkomptgoedluv]

watermelon.

icantbelieveiletyougetaway pt.3

pt1. here | pt.2 here | pt.3

joost klein x f! reader

tags: f! reader, non-famous! reader, reader still really needs to see a therapist, established friendship, angst angst and even more angst, did i mention angst?, tooth-rotting fluff, so fluffy it’s honestly a little cringe <3, all characters are dutch and speak in dutch but dialogue is written in english for obvious reasons.

word count: 3,494.

warnings: very brief + vague reference to SA, rpf.

notes: hello!! welcome to pt.3 <3 this is probably the part that i’m most proud of, probably because it weirdly hurt the most to write. a couple fun facts about this part: reader’s coat is heavily based on one i have in real life and absolutely adore. also, i genuinely couldn’t bring myself to touch this wip for two whole days because my personal life started to match up with this storyline and i did not like it! became a little too self-indulgent. anyways — enjoy!! lemme know what you think.

love you all lots 💋

── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ──

in a lot of ways, the whole situation was more or less your own idea of hell — ironic, considering it all started with literally the worst night of your life.

not once did you ever think that you’d be here, that this was how things were gonna go. the fun part? you don’t even know how you got here in the first place. for someone so in the middle of it all, you know surprisingly little about what actually happened, or what you must’ve done wrong.

all that you know is that it’s different now. joost is different now.

you still text everyday, a few phone calls here and there, and you’ll see him in person a few times a month or more, but you can still feel it. the subtle lack of emotion in his messages, the only-ever increasing wait times in between responses, the missing details in his stories that you’d still end up hearing from your friends. something, at some point, shifted and joost just didn’t seem to be your joost anymore.

at first, you tried to think nothing of it. you weren’t exactly a stranger to anxiety; it’s always been just a little too easy for you to get lost inside your own head. this also wasn’t the first time that you had fallen down this rabbit hole, suddenly convinced that someone you love doesn’t even like you because they said something in a slightly different tone once.

but then those weird few days where things didn’t feel quite right turned into weeks, and it just didn’t feel like nothing anymore.

you thought it could’ve been the videos because, as predicted, entire montages of the fight found their way onto each and every little corner of the internet. joost could be seen clear as day swinging for him, landing punch after punch until one of his friends would eventually step in. though somehow, the backlash against joost never came. for every clip there was a ‘story-time’ to go right along with it, and every single one explained how joost was just defending ‘this girl that had been attacked by that guy.’

so instead you exhausted yourself asking if everything was alright, just in case there was something else going on that he also hadn’t told you. but there was only so many times that you could ask the same question over and over again, only to get the same answer back.

joost was fine; great even.

so it had to be you. nothing was wrong, nothing bad had happened, it was simply just you that had repelled him all of a sudden. and that was all you could think about whilst you sat in a room surrounded by your closest friends — joost included.

it was someone’s birthday, a friend of a friend who’s name was still unknown to you and yet somehow you still ended up with an invite. aspon was on your left, deep in a conversation with stuntje about some new anime you’d never heard of, and alanis was on your right, asking to see pictures of daan’s latest art piece.

you, of course, were there in between them all, just staring into space. all of the ice in your drink had melted as it sat forgotten about in your hands, and you were fairly confident that you had memorised each and every scratch in the wooden flooring. you were yet to find a better place to look other than the floor, because of course it was joost that had to be sat opposite you.

he had pulled the short straw really, because by the time he came back in from his cigarette outside, the only seat left was one of those awful, plastic fold-up chairs. like the others he too was wrapped up in a conversation of his own, only his included a girl that you’d never seen before, and he was making her laugh a lot.

you didn’t have a single right to absolutely despise what it was that you were seeing, but still your skin felt hot and itchy, and tears burned behind your eyes. despite arriving together in your group and being seated a measly three feet away from each other, joost was yet to even glance in your direction, let alone talk to you. the blatant avoidance was unbearable; the new ‘you’ that he was talking to was even worse.

but with the anger came the shame, because really, you had no excuse to be feeling like this. two strangers with mutual friends, talking with one another at a house party of all places, wasn’t exactly incriminating. they also weren’t touching or even flirting for that matter — from what you could hear, their conversation seemed limited to small anecdotes about the people in common they both knew.

you weren’t being fair, you weren’t being reasonable; there was no excuse for the tightness in your chest.

without a word, you got up and made a dash for the balcony; desperate for a cigarette. so desperate in fact, that you didn’t stop to grab your jacket despite the rain bashing against the windows. you just needed the fresh air, needed space away from whatever the fuck was going on in there.

the small roof that the balcony upstairs provided did little to shield you from the rain. your hair quickly fell damp around the sides of your face as the wind brought goosebumps to your arms. you really should’ve stopped to grab your coat, you were soaking now.

but the pure, unbridled relief that you felt when you breathed in the smoke of your cig made it all worth it, though. it was something else to focus on, something to help soothe all of your aches and pains. best of all, it gave you a reason to be by yourself for a while — a moment alone to think, to breathe, a chance to get a fucking grip.

you took another drag of your cigarette.

“think you forgot this, schatje.”

over the sound of the heavy-falling rain and the music from inside, you hadn’t heard the balcony door slide open and shut again.

from the corner of your eye you saw joost standing there, clad in a black gilet and the same adidas track-jacket that you had bought for him two birthdays ago. your coat was in his outstretched hands; a big, red furry thing that almost swallowed you whole every time you put it on.

“yeah…thanks.”

you wanted to cry.

the silence that followed was heavy and awkward; neither of you could even look at each other as you took your jacket from him and slipped it on. whilst you focused on looking outwards towards the skyline, blinking away any tears that threatened to spill, joost busied himself with lighting up a cigarette of his own. it felt like you were standing next to a stranger, and not someone who quite literally knew every single little thing about you.

someone who always picked up the phone when you called; someone whose bed you’ve woken up naked in just a few too many times to count.

“you, uh, you doing okay?”

you almost choked on your cigarette.

he’d barely even glanced your way all night, too distracted by other female attention to really care that you were there at all, and now he wanted to know how you were doing? oh he had to be joking.

you stubbed out your cig underneath your shoe and went to storm back inside, shoving past him with your shoulder as you did so. you had almost made it too, before he caught you by the arm and gently pulled you back. it really pissed you off how hurt he looked, like this wasn’t all his fault in the first place.

“hey, can we not just talk for a minute? i wanna know what’s been up with you recently. we don’t really talk anymore.”

as hard as you could you pushed him off of you, and then you pushed him once more for good measure. you couldn’t bite it back anymore, couldn’t keep it all from spilling out when your blood was already boiling. if you were to regret it in the morning, you would just blame it on the few drinks you’ve already had.

“and why the fuck do you think that is, joost? tell me.”

a small part of you that you really couldn’t quite understand, genuinely hoped that he would push you back. that he’d get all up in your face, yelling at the top of his lungs, just as angry with you as you were with him. you wanted him to shout, to scream at you about how wrong you were; you wanted to feel crazy for even thinking that something could ever go wrong between the two of you.

you didn’t want him to just…stand there with his tail tucked between his legs, looking like he had already given up on you a long time ago. you found yourself shoving him again, only hard enough to knock him back a step or two this time.

“tell me!”

now more than ever you wished that you could stay angry, that you knew how to hold onto the outrage instead of always just breaking down into pieces. it made you feel so small the way that your voice was cracking; your shouts quickly shrinking into cries. you felt like a child again, begging to understand why everyone always left in the end.

“i just needed to work some stuff out, okay? none of this was meant to happen. i never wanted to make you cry.”

you pressed the heels of your palms into your eyes, the state of your mascara becoming an afterthought, before raking your fingers through your hair. thin strands stuck to the corners of your face and the back of your neck.

“please, tell me what i can do to make it better.”

joost was panicking now, looking a lot like an old dog that somehow knew it was about to be left behind at the shelter. you could see it in the way his hands were shaking and how he couldn’t quite seem to stand still, shifting from one leg to another.

“you can tell me what happened; what changed or what i did wrong. i don’t care.”

from the look on his face, you never would have guessed that all you’d asked him for was the truth; ‘panicked’ was no longer the right word.

“i can’t. i promise, i’ll tell you later but i can’t tell you here. not like this.”

you laughed — you couldn’t help it. three months ago, when you asked him why he was so insistent on doing anything and everything for you, he gave you the exact same line. either he forgot that he’s already used it once before, or he thought you were stupid enough to fall for it all over again; either way, you knew now that ‘later’ was never coming.

before you really knew what you were doing, you were back inside and weaving your way through the small huddles of your friends. a few stared as you began to tread water through the house, a long line of watery footprints following behind you on your way out. you muttered a quiet ‘i’ll see you guys later’ to whoever was listening and in one smooth motion, grabbed your bag from one of the tables and disappeared through the front door, slamming it behind you.

no one tried to stop you. probably for good reason, too, because you could feel the makeup running down your face.

the only good thing to come from looking so sad and drenched from the rain was that nobody on the street stopped to bother you either. not many people were out in this weather anyway, so at most you felt their eyes on you as they passed, a look of pity on their faces. pity for a girl all dressed up for a nice night out, just to be walking home early in tears.

you didn’t want their pity, you just wanted to go home. you wanted your bed and your pyjamas. you wanted a nice warm shower and to try and forget that today ever fucking happened.

you didn’t want joost to be chasing after you.

you didn’t want to hear your name being yelled from down the street by the one person you didn’t want to see right now.

“cmon you always do this! stop running away from everything.”

that was the thing to get you; the one thing that made you stop and turn on the spot.

“oh i’m the one running away? you’re the one that left!”

you met him halfway with steam coming out of your ears, your hands trembling and nose all scrunched up. you were fuming and it seemed as though he was now, too.

“i never went anywhere! you’re making it sound like i disappeared off the face of the earth or something.”

“well that’s what it felt like! what about that don’t you understand?”

you were each taking turns yelling now, oblivious to how loud you were actually being. people were sticking their heads out of their living room windows, morbidly curious about the scene that was unfolding right outside their homes. those that walked by did double-takes and even contemplated getting their phones out to record.

“but i’m here now! and i was ‘here’ back there and you just ran away like you always do!”

“did you really expect me to just stand there and listen to you lie again? all this ‘oh i’ll tell you later’ crap, it’s just bullshit. ever since that night you’ve been different and if what that guy did to me changed how you see me then maybe you’re right, maybe we should stop being whatever the fuck we are.”

joost physically recoiled at your words, his entire demeanour changing to one of hurt.

“what are you..? schatje no, no, it’s nothing like that. fuck, please tell me you don’t really think that.”

how could you not? it was the only thing left for you to think. it wasn’t like you wanted to come to that conclusion or that it was the first one you jumped to, but joost never gave you any other choice. as much as it hurt, it was better than simply not knowing.

something died in him when you nodded — you saw it in his eyes. tears of his own spilled down his cheeks as he rubbed his hands up and down his face, wiping his nose with the inside of his elbow.

“i…i would never; that guy…that wasn’t your fault.”

“then tell me the truth, joost.”

all that adrenaline, all that energy from before was long gone. you weren’t two people arguing in the rain, full of love and anger like something straight out of a romcom anymore. you were just two people standing out in the cold, soaked to the bone, just trying to hold on for a little while longer.

you were still waiting for joost to say something, trying to prepare yourself for the worst. if he was to say that same shit again, that he couldn’t tell you now but would later on, that would be it for you. you’d walk away and not turn back again, not for anything; just like that it would be game over.

but joost wasn’t saying anything, and you couldn’t decide if that was any better or not. he was silent as he took a couple steps towards you, the palms of his hands suddenly cupping either side of your jaw. the pads of his thumbs wiped away all the tears and rain from your eyes and tucked the odd strands of hair behind your ears. not once did he glance away from your gaze, not once did he say something.

it was driving you crazy.

“joost?” you were pleading with him now, desperate for him to say something — do something. the way he was looking at you, it was like you were the only thing he could see. “say something.”

“i love you.”

you blinked, and all of sudden you weren’t quite sure what to do with your hands anymore. it wasn’t the first time joost had said that to you because he says it to everyone, every single one of his friends. but he had never said it to you like that before, with a look in his eyes so heavy you feared that they might fall right out of his head.

“what?” your voice cracked as you spoke. “i don’t understand…what?”

“i love you. that’s what changed.”

a headache was coming, you could feel it. right behind your eyes, you felt a twinge, and then a subtle thumping that made your eyebrows twitch. you just couldn’t wrap your head around it, and the more you tried to make sense of it the more your head hurt.

“i swear to god if this is a fucking joke, if you’re just making this up -”

he shut you up with a kiss.

it wasn’t exactly for the first time or even close to being so, but it felt as though it could’ve been; all soft, gentle, careful. the hands that held either side of your face did so as though you could’ve cracked and shattered at any second. he moved slowly, almost hesitantly, until he felt you turn into mush beneath him. only then did he pull away, a ghost of a smile lingering on his lips.

but you couldn’t let him have it though, could you? couldn’t just let him have the upper hand, just like that. you had to chase it, had to pull him down to your height by the collar of his jacket until your lips could meet his. by the time you were finished, both shaking and breathless, there were faint smudges of red all across his mouth.

“that was so hot; do it again.”

you laughed at his words for not the first time tonight, but now it was only out of pure joy instead of anything else. you laughed because of how out of it joost looked now, his eyes glossed over and lips parted ever so slightly as he panted. you laughed because of how much you did want to do it again and how you felt giddy knowing that joost wanted you to do it again too.

so you did. only this time joost was ready and pounced on you hard enough to knock you back a couple of steps, almost making you slip on the wet pavement. his fingers lost themselves in your hair, gently tugging at the roots as yours gripped onto the nylon of his jacket for dear life, too afraid to let go and risk letting him slip away.

you would have stayed like that with him all night if it wasn’t for the wolf whistle you heard from one of the windows above, followed by the rumble of thunder. the rain was starting to fall harder now, the storm only growing and you didn’t like knowing that people were watching you now.

“we shouldn’t be doing this here — people are looking.”

with his forehead resting against yours, joost simply groaned as he struggled to catch his breath. his hands still cradled the back of your head and his eyes were still squeezed shut.

“don’t care. need you.”

he may as well have been one of the puddles at your feet, the way he couldn’t even form proper sentences anymore. the things you were doing to him right now were criminal, almost cruel, and you were loving every minute of it. proud of it, actually. you might have been mush in his hands, but he was like putty in yours.

“well…maybe you should take me home then, yeah? then you can need me as much as you like.”

joost groaned again, muttering something about how you were ‘going to be the death of him’, and leaned back in. from your nose to your cheeks, to your chin, every inch was peppered with very sweet, very wet kisses.

“have i told you much i love you yet?”

he had, at least a handful of times by now, but not nearly enough as you would’ve liked. so you shrugged, a shit-eating grin plastered across your face as you did so, and stepped back, lacing your fingers with his.

“it’s okay, you can tell me one more time.”

apparently that was way too far for you to go, because after one singular step you were tugged back again and kissed as though joost’s very life depended on it. ironic, considering you were certain that you were both about to be struck by lightning at any moment.

“i love you.”

you figured if that were to happen by some chance, it’d be worth it if it meant staying here with him for just a little while longer.

“i love you too.”

[crimsoncandy04]

omg love ur writing in the scaramouche tag and was wondering if i could place a request because i thought of scaramouche with a stubborn reader who refuses to submit to him so he punishes her via fucking machine until shes broken down and begging for him... its just some brainworms of mine

*scuttles out from underneath your bed and gently tucks my response underneath your pillow before returning to my nest*

Marry Christmas ya filthy animals lmao

(Hehe. I've been excited to write this)

(Bondage Scaramouche!)

You sigh softly as the gentle hum of the large vibrators fill your ears. Your wrists are handcuffed to a wall behind you on either side of your head. a locked metal chastity belt prevented the painfully enormous insertions from slipping out of your ass and cunt. This had been HIS sick way of punishing you for spitting in his face yesterday when he originally had tried to kiss you.

Scaramouche.

The fucking Balladeer.

You hated that self absorbed and condescending humanoid bastard but unfortunately for you, he had grown attracted to you.

He had wanted you.

And he had gotten you.

It was as simple as that. Or was it?

"Enjoying yourself?" A cold voice suddenly sneered from somewhere in front of you. You knew even through the blindfold that it was him. As if you could ever get off from something as disgusting and evil as what this sociopathic harbinger had done to you. Grabbing you. Pinning you to the ground beneath him as he had attempted to press his lips to yours.

He was lucky you didn't bite his tongue off instead of just spitting at him.

"Fuck you!" You hiss through your teeth. Your body is still trembling from the unwanted orgasms you were experiencing. You could hear the keys to your belt jingling from somewhere on him.

"Is that right now sweetheart? Finally come to your senses?" He reached out and ran a gloved hand across your cheek.

"Absolutely not you disgusting bastard! You know what I meant!"

A silence follows as you feel him pull away from you.

Then you feel a sharp sting in your neck.

"Ah! What the hell are you doing!? Stop!"

"You can't say I haven't been nice. I thought you would have seen reason by now but it appears your stubborn attitude will need correction first." He whispers in your ear. His cool breath sending shivers down your spine.

"This should make you a little more agreeable you ungrateful little cockroach."

You start to feel hot suddenly. You want to scream as you hear him still kneeling in front of you. Yet as you hear the click of a button being pressed and the vibrators deep in your holes start to move faster than before, you can't do anything but gasp suddenly and try in vain to close your knees and ignore the way your body quickly begins to tingle.

"I hate you! I won't... Ngh~" you have to bite your lip to keep from moaning. Whatever Scaramouche had injected you with was causing you to lose your composure fast. And also...become unbelievably overwhelmed with lust.

"Does it feel good? You like the way my toys are fucking that tight little cunt of yours?" He purrs as you feel him spread your knees apart and move to kneel between them. Scaramouche reaches out and pinches one of your nipples. Tugging on the sensitive peak ever so slightly as you squirm and writhe.

"You know, if you stop acting like such a pain in the ass, I could make it all better. Make the uncomfortable feeling in your body go away. Make you want me." You feel him lean in. His lips graze yours as he whispers.

"Why don't we try that kiss again hmm? This time, if you know what's good for you, you won't pull any more foolish stunts."

Before you can respond in any way, Scaramouche's lips are on yours. He moves his free hand to play with your hair as he continues to fondle your breast with the other. After a few seconds he shoves his tongue into your mouth and for a moment you almost falter. You want nothing more than to moan and cry and scream for this man to touch you. To fuck you. But as you suddenly jerk your head away and curse him under your breath, you come back to your right mind and immediately feel violated and enraged over what this lowly bastard is trying to do.

"No! How dare you! Don't touch me!"

You hear him get back to his feet. Feel his sharp and sadistic gaze on you as you are forced to cum again thanks to the toys buried in you still.

"You don't want me to lay my hands on you?" Scaramouche asks in a sinister tone. He chuckles softly.

"Well then, have it your way dear."

You try to kick as you feel him suddenly move close to you again and prick your neck a second time. But he's too fast and far too strong for any normal human to be able to apprehend on their own. And as you feel the new medicine quickly coarse through your veins and cause you to feel drowsy, you swear you hear Scaramouche laughing again and the sound of keys jingling.

You open your eyes sometime later and feel your wrists and head aching. You lift your head as best as you can in your semi-conscious state and realize that you're just dangling from the ceiling with your feet about a foot from the tatami floor beneath you. Your wrists are bound together by a red rope that is attached to a thick wooden rafter high above you. And to make things possibly even more humiliating, one of the ropes was tied carefully through your long hair and was tethered to something in your ass that caused your scalp and asshole to ache every time you tried to move your head or lower body. It was all so uncomfortable and yet you couldn't even adjust yourself without feeling your wrists burn or your hair getting yanked.

"you're finally awake. I was hoping you hadn't gone and died on me before we even got to the best part yet."

Scaramouche strode over to where you were hanging and reached out to feel your wetness. His long slender fingers easily slid into your sopping cunt and began to move. Wiggling around inside and teasing you before he abruptly removes them entirely. Leaving you irritated and slightly disappointed that he had left your aching sex empty again despite how aroused you still were from the earlier injection.

Scaramouche brings his fingers to his lips and grins mischievously as he licks them clean, commenting on how nice you taste as he watches a light blush form on your face.

"What an interesting expression. You want me to play with your cute little pussy more? Too bad. Don't blame me though. I'm simply giving you what you wanted. You don't want me to touch you. Remember?"

You felt burning hot anger suddenly rise within you. He wanted this.

That vile bastard wanted you to beg for him and plead for him to fuck you.

Archons, was he so grossly full of himself.

You grit your teeth and force yourself to glare at Scaramouche as you now struggle to fight the intense and overwhelming feeling of lust that plagued every inch of your hot feeling and quivering form.

"You won't break me you sick fucker!"

Scaramouche raises an eyebrow at your words.

"You think so huh? Well, let's just see."

He moves fast. Too fast.

One second he was standing in front of you and then you blinked and now he was behind you. You heard something big being placed just behind you. Mere inches from your throbbing sex as you hear Scaramouche comment about how he's going to enjoy watching you lose yourself after this and before you can figure out what he's planning, suddenly the sound of a machine buzzing to life fills your ears. Seconds after a thick dildo suddenly forces itself deep into your pussy and begins thrusting. Slowly at first, but after a few seconds it gets faster. You feel the silicone tip pound against your cervix. The thickness fills every inch of you and stretches your pussy to its limit. Making you shudder and finally...moan.

It was accidentally. You immediately regretted it.

But Scaramouche had heard it.

"Oh? Enjoying this are you? You seem to like my toys a lot huh?" You feel him rub his hand across your ass cheek and then squeeze a little.

"What if I were to remove this hook and fill your fat ass with something particularly large instead? Like the one in your cunt. Would you moan? Cry? Beg for more? Or would you continue with this annoying attitude of yours and let me ruin your perfect little holes in the process?"

Scaramouche suddenly slaps your ass hard. Making you whimper a little as you try to close your eyes and regain control. But as you try, suddenly another painful slap stops you.

He continues to spank you several more times before pausing and caressing your sore cheeks with his hands again. After that he began again. Your ass hurt, your pussy clenched and fluttered around the dildo as it thrust in and out of your oversensitive cunt, as the sensation of both pain and pleasure overwhelmed your senses, suddenly you gasp and let out a small whine as you feel yourself squirt.

Scaramouche laughs a little as he finally moves from behind you after that. Staring at you with a smug expression as you go limp while still being fucked by the machine behind you.

"That was quick. Clearly someone enjoyed themselves." He places his hands on either side of your face. The gesture is oddly gentle.

"Just relax. Stop fighting me. I don't want to punish you. It gets boring after a while. But if you continue to defy me, I won't hesitate to remind you of your place." One of his thumbs rubs a tear from your cheek that you weren't even aware had fallen.

"If you give in now, I can make you feel better than any mortal ever could. Don't you want that little bug? Humans like feeling good. Doesn't this all feel uncomfortable? Humiliating? I can make it stop if you just quit resisting." His touch was softer. But Scaramouche had no affection behind those indigo eyes of his as he gazed at you intensely.

You just gave him a look of reluctance as another small moan was forced out of you.

"Looks like you still need some convincing." He lets go of your face and suddenly reaches into the small pouch near his waist to retrieve a small remote. He smirks as he pushes a button and suddenly makes the dildo in your pussy begin to vibrate. He then increases the intensity. Your legs begin to shake as you finally stop trying to stay quiet.

It's too much.

"Fuck! It's hitting so deep! Scaramouche... I can't!" You try to wiggle your hips a little but the hook in your ass suddenly yanks on your hair again and you struggle to remain still.

You just...need more. You need to cum. You can't take this anymore.

Scaramouche unties his belt as he watches the machine continue to ravage you. It drops to the floor and after that you watch as he tugs down his shorts a little and reaches for his cock. He starts jerking off to the sight of you and even presses another button on the remote with his free hand that makes the dildo piston in and out faster.

"If it's too much. Just ask for me instead. Give in. And I'll make it stop." He leans in and kisses you again as he gets off to you. Swallowing your moans and sounds of pleasure as you feel yourself cum again. Finally as you feel another overwhelming wave of pleasure and swear the room sways a little around you as scara backs away, you finally give up.

"Scaramouche please fuck me. I can't stand this anymore! I want...i want your cock in me."

"Are you sure? You don't sound like you do. Maybe if you convince me I'll oblige."

Gods no.

He was making you beg.

You lowered your gaze as you felt your pride wither.

"Please Scaramouche, I don't want this fake cock in me. I want your dick. Please fuck me. Please...i need your big cock in my pussy!"

You don't even realize you're cut free from your binds after you finish pleading until you feel yourself hit the floor.

And feel Scaramouche grabbing your ass from behind.

"Who am I to deny such a needy girl? If you insist then I'll fuck you stupid you pitiful little worm."

He roughly shoves himself into your throbbing core to the hilt. Digging his nails into your hips before fucking hard into you. His movements are quick too. Scarily quick.

You feel yourself turn to jelly in his hold as he slams into your g spot and makes you squeal. You cry out as you feel yourself climax violently and yet he doesn't stop.

You don't want him too either.

"Scaramouche you feel amazing!" You gasp as you feel him reach for a tit and squeeze. His finger teasing the nipple.

"I know sweetheart. Just keep taking it. You feel so tight. Just like I knew you would." He groans before leaning down and wrapping his arms around your middle. Fucking you fast enough to make you scream as you feel yourself squirt again on his thick shaft.

"Fuck I'm gonna keep you. This cunt of yours is perfect." You hear the sound of electro before you feel it as Scaramouche suddenly tightens his hold on you and ejaculates.

A powerful jolt is sent deep into your womb and makes you climax again instantly. You feel a small lingering tingle in your belly and as Scaramouche releases you, you turn over slightly and notice that a strange mark has formed on your lower abdomen. It glows to life as Scaramouche rubs his cock against your slit and after that you feel yourself get excited again despite being beyond exhausted.

You hear him hum a little as he slowly slips into you once more.

"Don't worry about that my little insect. This just shows that you're mine and prevents you from enjoying anyone else. It has some special properties that will affect you but nothing unpleasant."

He begins to thrust again.

"After this, all I need is to knock you up. Shouldn't be too hard now that I gave you that. Then you'll be by my side forever. My pretty little toy~"

You can only feel pleasure as Scaramouche begins to use your pussy again. Deep in the back of your mind there's a small nagging feeling that this is wrong. But how could it be when everything about it just felt so right?

[holdmytesseract]

moodboard by @chennqingg | divider by @fictive-sl0th

Biker!Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader | No Outbreak AU

Warnings for this Chapter: 18+! MDNI! thirst, smut - not entirely graphic, but oh boy, it's there!

Word Count: 1.6k

a/n: So, uh... I'm pretty nervous about this chapter, since smut isn't really something I write on a daily basis, so... I hope this turned out okay! 👉🏻👈🏻

《 M a s t e r l i s t 》

《 Chapter One 》《 Chapter Three 》

Chapter Two...

... in which you spent a passionate night with the handsome biker.

A little bit older

A black leather jacket

A bad reputation

Insatiable habits

He was onto me, one look and I couldn't breathe

'My Oh My' by Camila Cabello feat. DaBaby

Feeling a wave of nervousness but also anticipation and excitement wash over you, your feet immediately guided you over to the biker. Daryl gestured behind himself. "Hop on." You didn't let yourself tell that twice, and swung your leg over; sitting behind Daryl.

He revved the engine and looked over his shoulder back at you. "Ya should hold on real tight." You did; placing your hands on his shoulders. He smirked - something you weren't able to see and started to drive down the street; away from the bar. You felt your body crashing into Daryl's due to the speed. It caused you to redirect your hands and wrap your arms around his torso instead; switching positions - and you would've lied when you said you didn't enjoy holding on to him like this for the short ride inside Miles City. He was so broad and bulky, yet strong. Downright attractive.

Ten minutes later, Daryl pulled off the road and onto the parking lot of a motel. He stopped his bike and turned off the engine. You hopped off the vehicle again; Daryl doing the same. Then he took off his helmet again, fished inside his jeans pocket for the keys to his room and took your hand in his free hand. It was the first direct skin-on-skin contact - and it caused our head to spin. A shiver ran down your spine. The biker started to walk backwards and gently dragged you with him; that charming smile once again on his lips. You followed him. There were no words or further signals needed.

You felt your heart beating fast for the man in front of you, who had just put the key in the lock to open up the door to his room - to an invitation to spent the night with him. Again, you couldn't help but accept. Usually, you weren't like that, but something about Daryl was just so special and intriguing. He was different.

The wooden door had merely fallen into its hinges, when Daryl's lips crashed onto yours; your back hitting the wall behind you with a soft thud.

Daryl's kiss was overwhelming but intoxicating. The taste of Whiskey and smoke; paired with the woodsy, musky and floral scent of his cologne drove you wild. Desire and need fogging up your brain and making it hard for you to think straight. He was like a drug; injected in your bloodstream. All you wanted was the man in front of you - and you could tell that the feeling was mutual.

His lips were still attached to yours as the biker's hands started to wander; feeling the dips of your lower back and the curves of your hips. They traced the hem of your blue jeans, before calloused but skilled fingers popped the single button open and zipped down the zipper. You kicked off your cowboy boots to help Daryl along and within seconds you were halfway undressed.

To feel his hands on your burning hot skin sent another shiver down your spine. No doubt you were aching with need for him.

The man buried his face in your neck; kissing, biting and licking the sensitive skin. A gasp left your lips; hands sliding from his broad shoulders into his hair and you tugged; getting rid of his black baseball cap on the way. You felt him groan in your shoulder. His hips suddenly jerked forwards to pin you against the thin motel wall. That was the moment you felt all of him - and you were a hairsbreadth away from losing your mind. You were so drunk of him, you couldn't hold out much longer. "Daryl, p-please..." You panted desperately; hands no longer in his hair, but at the hem of his jeans. Your thumbs slid through the belt loops; tugging. He lifted his head to give you the sexiest, yet dirtiest smile a man had ever given you. It almost caused your knees to buckle and give in. Daryl knew what you wanted - and that only he was able to give it to you. Actually, he had planned to play with you a little longer, but the night wasn't over yet and he was losing the roaring battle against his most primal instincts as well. Therefore, he didn't hesitate; made quick work to unzip the zipper of his own jeans and finally gave the raging arousal trapped inside some room. Nevertheless, he couldn't resist the temptation to grant himself at least a little bit relief with the help of his hand, while he shrugged his angel-winged vest off his shoulders and messily undid a few buttons of his shirt, before he rummaged around in the back pocket of his jeans. Daryl quickly found what he was looking for, and fished it out. Bringing the little foil package to his mouth, he ripped it open with his teeth and took out the condom.

Meanwhile, your gaze had dropped, of course; watching his hands work with parted lips and your delicate palms splayed on his thick thighs. Gods, you wanted him so bad.

The sudden touch of Daryl's pleasantly warm hands on your bare hips ripped you out of your lustful thoughts. You raised your head again, just in time to see him dipping his head to meet your lips in an almost obscene kiss.

"Be a good girl 'n jump," the biker whispered hoarsely against your mouth; hot breath dancing over your skin. You did what he asked you to without hesitation; trusting your hookup blindly. He caught you easily mid-air; big palms cupping your bottom. You wrapped your legs around his middle and arms around his neck. Making sure your legs are secured around him, Daryl bend his knees and let gravity do the rest.

Your lips parted; a frown forming on your forehead. It was a lot - and it's been a while. He was a lot. You gasped; the muscles in your stomach tightening.

Daryl had thrown his head back in sheer endless pleasure, but when he focused again, he noticed the look on your face. "T-Too much?" He spluttered; having a hard time to hold himself back. You nodded wordlessly; breath still knocked out of your lungs. However, you stopped Daryl immediately as he wanted to retreat. "D-Don't... I-I want this."

Another smug smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

The sex was primal, rough and messy. It wasn't love making. Far from it. It was just two people giving into their attraction and needs.

What had started close to a wall beside the door, moved on to the cheap, shabby cupboard in the small entrance area and to the single, rickety chair beside the wardrobe, before it was now (finally) where it actually belonged... In the motel room's small, old bed, with you on your back and Daryl on his knees. The wood and springs squeaked underneath the biker's movements; headboard knocking against the wall. By now, you were pretty sure that all the neighbours around you knew what was going on behind these walls - but neither you, nor Daryl couldn't care less. You were so far gone already; completely lost in a haze of pleasure and the handsome man above you, who made you see stars.

Honestly, he was a sight to behold. The view had been never better... Chestnut brown curls all messy; pecks covered in a layer of sweat, causing the tattoos on his chest to glisten and the fine, dark hairs growing there and underneath his belly button to stick to his skin. It was probably the sexiest view you ever had.

While the biker did the heavy work, your hands were twisting the meanwhile fully opened black shirt Daryl wore; moans and gasps slipping past your lips now and then. The cliff you were about to jump down approaching quickly - quicker than you thought. All it took was a soft nip on the delicate skin at the junction of your shoulder and neck, and you were done for it. "F-Fuckin' s-shit," Daryl grunted huskily mere seconds later as he joined you, and jumped off the cliff as well.

The man panted hard as he was collapsing on top of you; biceps bulging as they worked hard to support his weight and not crush your smaller form. You giggled deliriously. One hand still splayed on his stomach as you bathed in the afterglow.

Quite a few minutes later - it was way past midnight, you were still laying in 'Daryl's' bed; him stretched out beside you, now fully naked and with his hands crossed behind his head. Neither of you had moved far.

You turned on your side to face him. "Is your one-night-stand allowed to stay the night, or should I go, call a taxi?" Daryl turned his head to face you as well; chewing on his bottom lip. "'S yer decision. If ya wanna stay, stay. If ya wanna leave, 's fine by me," he answered with a shrug.

You thought about it for a moment. It was late, you were tipsy and alone.

The decision was quickly made.

"Alright." You stood up and quickly got undressed completely as well - unintentionally giving Daryl more to look at, before you dived back into the bed; this time underneath the sheets.

The biker followed and tucked the sheets over his most private part. You slid a little bit closer to him; placing a hand on his soft stomach. "Thank you for this. Best sex I had in a while." Your words caused Daryl to chuckle. He reached out his arm for you to misappropriate as your pillow; hand resting on your bare back. "Same, cowgirl."

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[thursdayinspace]

So I rewatched "Our Town" last night and when I sat down at my laptop this morning to do something that was not writing, I ended up writing instead. These things happen. Just a silly fluffy-ish little thing because omg that ep is so gross and also Scully has to be getting sick of being abducted all the time. Mulder feels the same way.

She can’t sleep. It’s not every day you almost get beheaded—even after everything that she’s already been through this year, it seems there are still things that can shake her up pretty badly. She rolls over on the lumpy motel mattress and tries to get comfortable. For a glorious moment, she considers quitting. Handing Skinner her resignation and walking away, finding a nice job with regular hours where people won’t handcuff her to radiators, stick her in closets, contort their stretchy bodies through cracks in her bathroom window, or drive her around in the trunks of their cars before handing her over to aliens or the government or whatever theory Mulder’s going with right now. A job where she won’t spend the end of a work day strapped into a metal harness as a guy in a mask raises an ax above her head.

In her mind she pictures a simple life: a nice house with a yard, a dog greeting her as she opens the door and walks inside after a long day at the hospital…no, a private practice? A day of teaching? Whatever she’s been doing, she walks into a kitchen that smells like home-cooked dinner, leaning up to kiss her faceless husband who’s vaguely Mulder-shaped. “Honey, I’m home!” “Dinner’s almost ready! How was your day?” “Fine. Narrowly avoided decapitation. Nothing exciting.” Fuck. Not even fantasy-Scully can escape the absurdity of this life.

The knock on her door doesn’t even surprise her. She already knows who it is. He stopped waking her unless it’s something really important, so she groans and gets up, her bones aching, weeping inwardly as she makes her way to the door. So she can’t sleep; that doesn’t mean she wants to spend the night going over their case report or whatever that infuriatingly charming insomniac wants from her this time.

But when she opens the door, he doesn’t look as if he wants to go over case reports. He looks like shit. As much as that’s even possible for him. Another thing that’s simply unfair about her life, she thinks with a sigh. Even with bags under his eyes and pale as a sheet he still looks beautiful. “Mulder?” she says.

He doesn’t answer, just steps right into her and pulls her into a wordless hug, so tight she’s a little afraid he’ll crack her ribs. She hugs him back weakly and pats his back, not quite sure what else to do since she has no idea what the fuck he’s even doing. She expects him to pull back, but he just keeps holding on, and she’s genuinely having trouble breathing.

“Uh, Mulder?” she says again, a little louder.

“You’re okay,” he mumbles into her hair, and she wiggles in his arms, trying to loosen his grip.

“Not for much longer if you don’t let go.”

“Sorry.” He drops his arms and takes a step back, but keeps looking at her like he’s never seen her before. “Sorry, I just—”

“It’s fine,” she says. “Did you have a bad dream?”

He shakes his head. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Yeah.” She grimaces. “Me neither. It’s been…a day.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks, and she laughs. She’s too tired not to.

“Thanks to your timely rescue, my head is still firmly attached to my body.” It sounds a little bitter, and she’s surprised at herself before she feels another little piece of her frustration clicking into place. Ah, yes, she thinks. There’s that too. Rescued once again. She makes a mental note: fantasy-Scully in her little imaginary suburban nine-to-five utopia will never have to be rescued. She’s gonna be the one doing all the rescuing. Except nobody needs to be rescued in that perfect little world, because nothing bad ever happens to anyone.

“You don’t sound okay,” Mulder says, and she closes her eyes for a second. She’s not annoyed with him, she reminds herself. It’s not his fault that she became part of these townsfolks’ dinner plans, and it’s not his fault that she needed him to keep that from happening.

“I’m just a little tired.”

“I’ll let you sleep.” He sounds exhausted and when she looks at him, she sees leftover fear in his eyes. “No more interruptions, I promise.”

Her hand reaches out for his before she’s fully conscious of what she’s doing. It’s just that he’s here and she’s had enough of being Agent Scully for tonight, and he really looks so much like Doctor Scully’s faceless dinner-cooking husband in her nice little fantasy home. “Come on,” she says.

“What are you—”

“Bed,” she explains, hoping he won’t ask any more questions.

“Oh. Okay.”

She gets in on her side and is relieved when he lies down next to her without another word. She closes her eyes, but she can feel him stock-still as a statue next to her, she can feel the tension radiating off of him, and, hell, it sounds like he’s even trying to breathe without making a sound. So she grabs his arm and rolls onto her side, tugging him with her until he has his back against her chest, and she holds firmly onto his hand and snuggles back into him.

“Scully?” he asks, sounding a little confused.

“Relax, Mulder,” she tells him. “Sleep.”

“Are you sure?”

“About sleeping?”

“You know what I mean.”

She laughs and squeezes his fingers. “No. Of course not. But honestly? I really don’t care right now.”

“Okay,” he says, and he gets it, she knew he’d get it. “Okay,” he repeats, and laces their fingers together. She feels him lift his head, feels his hot breath against the side of her face, and then a gentle kiss against the corner of her eye. “Good night, Scully.”

“Good night, Mulder.”

Behind her closed eyelids, fantasy Scully lies just like this with her faceless partner, who’s just as warm and smells just as good as real Scully’s friend-partner spooned up behind her. The only difference is that her own real Mulder is…well, real. No matter how perfect her beautiful little dream house with her beautiful perfect husband may be, she kind of prefers snuggling with someone who has a face and a name. And maybe she’d actually miss the mess.

Not all of it. Not the ax-swinging, homicidal maniacs or the lumpy motel mattresses. But a partner who knocks on her door in the middle of the night because he couldn’t sleep without making sure she was okay? Who sleeps wrapped around her with his breath ruffling the hair at the back of her neck, knowing this isn’t leading anywhere other than comfort and friendship? And…she kisses the backs of his fingers once she convinces herself he’s probably asleep…a vague hope that maybe this won’t always be all there is between them?

Yeah. She’ll take it.

[djarins-cyare]

(Angsty) WIP Weekend

Thank you to the following lovelies for tagging me in various WIP posts over the past month (you are all wonderful 💚):

@ace-turned-confused @almostfoxglove @quinnnfabrgay-writes

@secretelephanttattoo @the-blind-assassin-12 @the-mandawhor1an

Once again, I’m humbly offering up a snippet because I’m still eyeball-deep in the writing stage of my (now several months late) Secret Relationship fic for the Roll-A-Trope Writing Challenge. It now stands at just over 57k words, but I swear I only have two more chapters to write. Happily, I have a whole 3 weeks off work over the holidays, so I’m aiming to release it next month.

I won’t bore you with why I had to expand it again, but let’s just say angst fans will be well-fed.

In fact, since my previous WIP offerings from this fic (see here, here, and here) have mostly been smut-adjacent, I’ve decided to give you a taste of the angst for a change…

(Sorry it’s shorter than my usual snippets; it’s tough to find a decent chunk I can share without spoiling anything)

You fight for a week. Each day, he comes over, imploring you to calm down, eat something, see his point of view. He tries every tactic – soft words, hard orders, pleading eyes – but every attempt only feels like salt in a wound that will never close. Each day, you hurl back insults, curses, and even whatever objects are within reach. A glass shatters against the wall near his head. A boot catches him in the gut. You hope each impact carries a fraction of the pain he’s inflicted on you. You scream a lot. You scream until your throat is raw and you taste blood. Sometimes, your screams are molten with fury, blistering the air. Other times, they collapse into broken, keening wails, your voice trembling with the weight of all the misery you can’t contain. You cry a lot. You cry until there’s nothing left – until the tears burn instead of soothe. The memories torture you whenever your eyes close, echoes of your dreams being torn apart in a single evening. With every tear you try to blink away, your losses replay on the back of your eyelids with excruciating clarity. Your body can’t handle the strain. Your hands tremble constantly, whether from exhaustion or rage, you no longer know. Your chest feels tight; every breath is an effort. Sleep offers no relief; it’s a battlefield of nightmares that leave you thrashing and gasping awake. Yet you don’t stop fighting. You can’t stop. It’s the only shield against the endless void threatening to swallow you whole. Fighting is all you have left now.

The high level of angst will be balanced by an equally high level of smut, don’t worry 😏. But the good stuff needs to be earned.

As usual, if you’d like me to tag you when I release the chapters, please raise your hand or communicate your wish however you see fit. You can also join my tag list if you like.

Apparently, Tumblr is now limiting the number of links per post, which includes tags 😡. Since my WIP posts aren’t particularly frequent, I always try to tag as many people as possible, so I guess I’ll just put them in a reblog…

[cressidagrey]

The moment I could see it - Part 2

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Ariel Cane (Original Character)

Summary: 5 Times that Gianpiero Lambiase thinks that Ariel Cane and Max Verstappen are weirdly similar…and 1 time he is just happy that the two of them are no longer pining after each other. 

Warnings: 

GP's POV, mention of cancer, mention of parent's death

Author Notes: I am back to my old tricks...which means I write from the most random of POV's just because. (I once wrote a chapter from a dog's POV so like, GP doesn't even really count.

About 3 months later, GP once again returned home from Race Weekend. 

This time for good. Abu Dhabi had gone off well enough, Kvyat ending with a respectable 9th place... and Max Verstappen had ended up with enough penalty points on his special license that he was just 4 points away from a one race ban.

GP shook his head in weary disapproval as he thought of the young driver’s antics. Max really seemed to have no sense of when to stop. 

Still, GP had some sympathy. Driving at that level was a high-pressure experience, and Max was still so young.

Well, he wasn’t GP’s problem. Thank god for small mercies…

Though that gritty determination and bravery bordering on stupidity… well, that was something that GP both admired and dreaded. 

But…F1 was finished for the year, and he got to go home for christmas. So he would also get to ban all thoughts of Max Verstappen from his brain for the foreseeable future. 

It wasn’t a very christmas-sy sight that greeted him as he turned his car into their street though. 

Instead it was a hearse.  

 Parked right across their neighbour’s house. 

In front of the house with the red front door. 

In the three months since he had first met the Cane Family, Laura and him had indeed taken up Ariel on her offer to babysit twice. Both times Franny had been more than happy with her caretaker for the evening. 

There also had been an ambulance at the house twice, once ending in a two week hospital stint for Paul Cane, as Laura had told him over the phone while GP had been in Singapore and Japan…

And now there was a hearse.

Immediately the fatigue of the weekend's race and travel seemed to vanish, replaced by a sudden sense of dread.

He parked and then climbed out of his car, his stomach in knots, and quickly crossed the street to his own house.

He walked up his front steps, forcing himself to take deep, slow breaths. He wasn't going to jump to conclusions. Not yet.

"Honey, I am home!" he called out for Laura. He found his wife in the living room, cuddling a sleeping Francesca. But she wasn't alone.

Emma was sitting on the couch, legs pulled up to her chest, staring emptily in front of her. 

"Hey," Laura greeted him, a forced smile on her face, putting Franny down, as she came to hug him.

"Their father died this afternoon," she whispered. "Ariel dropped her off, so that she could deal with the..."

Laura didn’t need to say anything more.  GP wrapped his arms around Laura, pulling her close. 

"How is she?" he asked quietly, his eyes flicking to the girl sitting almost in a daze on the couch.

“How would you be if your only remaining parent died?” Laura gave back softly. 

"Ariel?" he whispered. 

Laura shrugged. “I think she is handling this with more maturity than an adult twice her age would,” she said quietly. “I offered to take Emma off her hands for the night, get her out of the house…”

GP smiled sadly at his wife. It was typical of her to be so generous. Despite the fact they had their own baby to look after, she wasn't about to leave the thirteen-year-old alone.

He looked back at Emma, who was still sitting on the couch, looking small and lost. It made his heart ache.

"Ariel refused. Said their older brother is on his way as well," Laura said quietly. "But he seemed...pretty much useless, to be honest."

GP felt a flash of anger at her words. Useless? How could their brother, a grown man, be useless in such a time of need?

He forced himself to take a steadying breath, reminding himself that he didn't know the details. It wasn't for him to judge.

"What do you mean, useless?" he asked, trying to keep his voice calm. He cast a glance at Emma again. 

His wife sighed, looking rather frustrated. "He just...he just doesn't seem to be able to deal with any of this," she said, her voice low. "Ariel basically has to walk him through how to actually get here..."

Gianpiero shook his head, his respect for Ariel growing even more. She was already dealing with so much, yet she had to handle her brother as well? 

"She's got enough on her plate already," he muttered, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

Laura laid a hand on his arm, giving it a slight squeeze. "I know," she said. "But she's doing all she can to keep things together."

He looked over at Emma again, sitting so quietly on the sofa. She was just a child, watching everyone around her fall apart. It was all so wrong.

GP took a deep breath, trying to push down the feeling of powerlessness. "When will her brother get here?" he asked his wife, struggling to keep his voice neutral.

"He said he'll be here within the hour," Laura replied quietly, her expression one of concern. "I can start dinner for everyone..."

GP nodded, knowing that his wife was trying to do whatever she could to help. But as he watched Emma sit on the couch, still looking so lost, he couldn't shake the feeling of helplessness.

He walked over and sat down next to her, careful not to crowd her. For a moment, he just sat there in silence, not sure what to say.

He stared at his own daughter, asleep and content…once Franny was asleep, nearly nothing was going to wake her up again. 

Emma didn't say anything, just continued to stare out into space. Her eyes were dry, but her face was pale and stricken.

"Hey Kiddo..." he said softly, trying to draw her attention.

She turned her head slightly, casting him a quick glance before returning her gaze to the distance.

He continued in a gentle voice, "How are you holding up?"

Emma didn't respond, just pressed her lips together tightly, but the way her chin trembled betrayed her effort not to cry.

He had no idea what to say to her. What could he possibly say to comfort a child who just lost her father? Nothing, really.

"I remember when Mom died," Emma said suddenly. GP started slightly at the unexpected words. Hearing her bring up her mother's death so suddenly was a bit of a surprise.

But he quickly composed himself, keeping his own voice soft. "You do?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," Emma said simply. "Ariel was as old as I am now. I was 8. She took care of us. Dad was useless. But Ariel took care of us. Just like she takes care of everything now."

Gianpiero felt a pang of sadness. Emma was so matter-of-fact about her sister taking charge of the family, as if it was an expected outcome. 

"Percy dissappeared afterwards. Left us alone," Emma continue weakly. "I don't think he wanted to be around us anymore."

Gianpiero felt his heart break a little at her words. "Why do you think that?" he asked gently. 

"He went off to university.." Emma said softly. “Doesn’t come home until it’s christmas anymore. Some people say he's some kind of genius," she said with a roll of her eyes. 

Gianpiero was taken aback by the scoff in her voice. It seemed like Emma had an opinion about her brother.

"You don't agree?" he asked curiously, keeping his voice gentle.

"Yeah well...I guess he's smart and all that," Emma said sullenly. "Good with numbers. Bad with people."

GP could hear the distaste in her voice. It seemed like there was some resentment there, towards her older brother.

“He just left us. Like we didn’t matter.”

He was tempted to ask her more about it, but the sound of a car starting pulled his attention...and then Emma was up from the couch, sprinting outside. 

He followed after her, after a glance to Laura. 

The hearse was pulling out onto the street. 

By the time he was outside, Emma had already collided with Ariel on the sidewalk. 

GP felt his heart ache as he watched the two girls hug, Emma clinging to her older sister as if her life depended on it.

Ariel hugged her back, her mouth set in firm line, as she watched the hearse carry their father's body away.

GP didn’t want to watch this. He felt like the worst kind of voyeur to see this…to bear witness to this moment, where he could see their grief laid bare like this…

And still he was rooted in a spot watching… He felt an odd sense of awe watching the girls. They were so young, so vulnerable, and yet so strong.

Ariel was clearly holding back her own tears, putting on a brave face for her little sister. Emma was sobbing quietly on her shoulder, her slender frame trembling against her sister's strength. 

He felt a sudden rush of anger towards their older brother, Percy. How could he not be there when his younger sisters needed him so much?

He tried to push down the emotion; there was no point in being angry right now. He was about to turn away and give the girls some privacy, when he noticed a car pulling up onto the street, and then stopping.

The man that got out of the cab was clearly their brother, his red hair a dead giveaway. GP couldn't help but notice the lack of warmth in his movements.

Percy Cane seemed…nearly detached as he took a few steps towards the house, but his steps seemed slow, as if every step he took was something he didn't want to do.

Here were his younger sisters grieving over their father's death, and Percy Cane acted as if he would rather be anywhere else.

"Perce," Ariel greeted him, her voice soft.

Emma turned in her sister's arms, staring at him. "You came," she said, her voice somewhat…actually surprised.

"You are my sisters," Percy responded, nearly robotically. 

There was something...off about the way he spoke...so emotioneless...so controlled… 

He watched as Percy nodded somewhat mechanically at his little sisters, avoiding making eye contact with them. "Of course, I came," he added after a moment.

"For how long?" Ariel asked him.

"I am finished. I don’t need to go back."

GP was quite sure that he was missing some of the context. 

"Finished with what?" Ariel asked him, staring at her brother. 

"My doctorate," Percy answered. "I am finished."

Gianpiero's jaw nearly dropped. The boy had finished a whole damn doctorate? How old was he, twenty-two, twenty-three at most? And here he was, talking about it like it was a minor inconvenience…

"What do we do now?" Percy asked Ariel, and for the first time...GP heard something like shaking in his voice.

And suddenly it made sense. 

Percy Cane wasn't an unfeeling monster. Even when he sounded like a robot or an emotionless asshole. 

GP would have bet nearly everything that Emma's assessment of "Good with numbers, Bad with people" also involved "horrible with feelings”. Clearly, the young man was out of his depth dealing with the emotional fallout of his father's death.

GP couldn't help but wonder if his detachment was just a way of coping, a wall to shield himself from the overwhelming emotions. But it wasn't helping his sisters right now.

But Ariel didn’t let that stop her. Didn’t let it make her hesitate. 

GP was struck by that fierce determination that crossed her face. She was taking on the responsibility for her family, no matter what.

"We'll get through this. We have done it before. We'll do it again."

It was a lot for a young woman her age, but she wasn't backing down. She was going to see her family through to the other side of this.

No arguments were heard...not when Emma buried her face against her sisters shoulder...and then for the first time...GP saw Percy Cane's hard shell break.

The usually emotionless young man looked utterly lost.

It was clear Percy hadn't quite figured out how to handle his own feelings about the situation. But his sister's words seemed to break through the walls he had built around himself.

And then…then suddenly he was hugging both of his sisters.

"You hate hugs," came Emma's muffled voice. 

"You don't," was Percy Cane's simple answer.

He watched as the three Cane siblings embraced each other, their arms tightly wound around each other.

But it was Ariel...Ariel that was the tower of strength. Who was the center. 

And the center must hold, regardless of anything else.  Ariel was the foundation, the one who kept them from falling apart. 

He could see how hard this was for her, how much she wanted to cry and grieve like any other girl her age. But in her mind, she couldn't. Not now. Her little sister and her oler brother needed her to hold it together so they had something to hold on to.

She was supposed to be a carefree college student, not the responsible head of her dysfunctional family.

Other kids her age only worry was from where to get cheap booze for the next night out. 

Being the strong one, the one who had to hold everyone together, was one of the hardest roles to play. It took strength, resilience and a ton of emotional stamina.

And determination. 

Ariel Cane seemed to have that gritty determination in spades.

[wandascosmic]

Could you write just a cute fic where Wanda and reader do a bunch of autumn season activities. Like Wanda loves to bake so she makes some halloween themed desserts with the help of reader (who in reality just makes a mess and eats all the ingredients).

Wanda would also probably be the type to just want to take a walk because she likes seeing the trees that change color, and of course reader wouldn’t listen when Wanda told her to dress warm so Wanda sacrifices her scarf or hat or both for her to wear instead.

Then for halloween all the avengers could dress up in costumes to hand out candy to the kids, and reader would convince Wanda to do a couples costume.

autumn appreciation (request)

wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: in which you and your girlfriend make the most of the wonderful autumn season.

word count: 965

tags: unedited, fluff, domesticity, idiots baking together, our favorite couple going for a walk, couples costume!!!, kids trick or treating at the avengers compound, we love halloween so much

“Hey, Nat, have you seen Wanda?” you ask the assassin in the compound. 

Nat shrugs. “I’m pretty sure she’s making ghost cookies, pumpkin cookies, and a witch-shaped cake on a broom. Which is odd because couldn’t she just make a self-portrait–”

“Got it, thanks Nat!” you cut her off, running in the direction of your girlfriend. 

Stopping in the kitchen, you grin at the sight before you. Wanda was in deep focus, mixing a bunch of cake batter in various bowls, trying her best to bake to perfection. However, she was covered in flour, food coloring, and every baking ingredient you could think of had somehow stained her apron. 

“Witchy,” you greet, walking over towards her. 

“Y/N!” Wanda’s eyes light up before you as she makes her way over, giving you a tight hug before you could protest. 

“Wands,” you say, as Wanda refuses to let go. 

“Hm?” Wanda hums. 

“You’re covered in every baking ingredient in America,” you say, snickering. 

Wanda gasps, immediately letting go and seeing your shirt stained with everything that was on her apron. “I’m so sorry, detka! I’ll go get you a new shirt and change this apron– I didn’t even realize–” 

“Wands, don’t worry,” you cut off. “You’re not really baking if you’re not covered in head to toe in flour and confectioner’s sugar.” 

Wanda grins in response.

“Besides, I came over here to help you, since it looked like fun and I haven’t seen you yet today,” you reassure. 

“Oh!” Wanda says excitedly. “Yes, that would be so much fun. Okay, so I need some help with the ghost cookies since the frosting is a little tricky cause it’s a different kind than the pumpkin ones, so let’s do that!” Wanda grabs your hand and begins to lead you to the kitchen.

You grab a measuring cup and start getting to work per Wanda’s instructions. 

Two hours later, you and Wanda are still hard at work. 

“Detka, I think the kitchen is even messier with you than when I started. And that’s saying something since it looked like a flour bomb had gone off in front of me,” Wanda giggles. 

“Hey, you put me to work, woman,” you say, grabbing a piece of cookie dough and munching on it. 

“And you’ve mostly just eaten our ingredients.” 

“You put candy in front of me, you can’t expect me not to eat it,” you shrug. “Plus, we’re basically almost done now! We’ve just got to put everything in the oven.” You grin. “What do you say to your wonderful girlfriend?” 

“Don’t eat all the marshmallows next time?” Wanda retorts with her arms crossed. 

You give her a look, causing Wanda to finally let her smile shine through. 

“Fine, thank you, I love you,” Wanda gives you a kiss. 

“I love you too, my grumpy Sokovian witch.” 

And by the end of the day, every treat you and Wanda had worked so hard on has been eaten by a member of the compound.

*** “Baby,” Wanda shakes you lightly on the couch as you sleep on top of her chest. 

“Hm?” you hum sleepily. 

“Let’s go for a walk,” Wanda says. 

“Why?” you ask, looking at Wanda confusedly. “We rarely take walks.” 

“That’s why we should start!” Wanda responds. “I want to see the leaves change color, please,” Wanda stretches out the last syllable and gives you a pleading look. 

“Fine,” you agree reluctantly. 

“Thank you!” Wanda says, giving you a kiss. “I’m gonna grab my coat, you grab yours too since it’s cold.”

But, of course, you don’t listen to your incredibly smart girlfriend.  

Two minutes into your walk, in which Wanda’s already gushed about seven yellow trees, eight red trees, and five orange trees, you’re completely freezing, and trying your best to hide your shivers. 

But, of course, Wanda notices. 

And silently, Wanda wraps her scarf around your neck and gives you her hat, pulling you into your arms as you continue your walk down the beautiful trail. 

***

“Wanda, come on, it’ll be fun!” you argue, the morning of Halloween. 

“I don’t know,” Wanda says reluctantly as you show her the peanut butter and jelly costume you had bought for the two of you. Wanda was going to be the jelly, of course. 

“Please, witchy?” you give her your best pleading look to which Wanda’s incapable of saying no to. 

“Fine,” Wanda agrees. “But you owe me,” she says, grabbing the costume and going into the bathroom to change. 

“You got it,” you agree, yelling past the door. 

The kids love yours and Wanda’s costume, every single child who’s rang the doorbell and said trick or treat has pointed out your costume, making Wanda blush every time. 

“Trick or treat!” the last group of kids said in unison as Steve opened the compound door. 

“It’s the Avengers!” one of them remarked. 

“You guys are so cool,” another one said. 

“Hey, you guys are the best couple!” a girl, about five years younger than you pointed at you and Wanda. “I love you guys so much.” 

“Aw, we love you,” you respond, giving her a few extra pieces of candy as well as her friends. 

The kids take a few pictures with a couple of you, and you wave as they leave, “Have a great evening!” you call out.

Closing the door, Steve turns to you all, “I think we’re good for tonight, goodnight everyone,” he says, heading off in the direction of his room. 

You turn to Wanda with a grin. “So, wasn’t the costume worth it?” 

“I look ridiculous,” Wanda retorts. “But, unfortunately, anything for you, detka.” 

“I’ll return the favor next year,” you tell her with a kiss. 

“You better,” Wanda says, wrapping her arms around your waist as you both head off to bed together.

[nanamin-nah-nanamine]

The Dojo Gojo Casa House

Hi guys, here’s a gojo x reader that I started writing months ago. The title literally gripped me by my neck and wouldn’t let go so gaze upon this monstrosity >:3

Satoru never played fair. That was a fact of life. But he also never cheated. It was unnecessary when everything he tried came like second nature. He was athletic, he was smart, he could sing, and he could charm himself out of just about any situation he wasn’t supposed to be in. It would have been fine if he was humble. More down to earth like Nanami or Shoko. But he wasn’t. He didn’t even have the decency to pretend like the world didn’t come to a halt the day he was born. He was cocky. He was brash, and he was fucking annoying to make matters worse. He picked a target and he wore them down until they weren’t any fun to play with anymore. Once Nanami had left the jujutsu world in pursuit of college you wish you had gone with him because Satoru was insufferable. You were only a second grade, you weren’t terribly strong and you knew that, but Satoru just needed to remind you any chance he could get. He’s always been insufferable, for as long as you can remember, every memory you’ve had of him revolved around him teasing someone. It was something he was known for; yet he still managed to get under your skin.

This job was stressful, anyone could tell you that. It’s why Shoko smoked a pack a day, why Suguru defected, and why Nanami had left. It wasn’t for the faint of heart, yet you ended up staying; persuaded by some fluffed up speech on how much good you would be doing. It was hard to see the good when you ended each day exhausted and crying in Shoko’s office about how awful it was. Everyone had their vices, and yours was staying even though it made you sick. The tears weren’t too bad, you had always been on the more sensitive side and it was cathartic really. Shoko never made you feel bad and if she was annoyed by your daily visits she didn’t show it. Maybe she was just happy enough to see a sorcerer retain their humanity. The only person who seemed to even acknowledge it was Satoru, appearing at the worst times when your eyes were still red and puffy and he would tease you. It wasn’t cruel in hindsight because Satoru wasn’t cruel per say, but he was insensitive. Cooing and pouting dramatically at your teary eyes, patting your head in a way so condescending you would have swung on him if infinity wasn’t in the way. You were pissed, your hands shaking and your face hot. His taunting words and sardonic laughter only seemed to bring a fresh set of tears to your eyes and you wanted to disappear. You were never getting out of this, where Satoru perceived weakness, he saw an opportunity to have his fun.

You were fucked.

“Cute,” he laughed, squishing your cheeks together; only laughing harder when you batted at his hands.

That was three years ago. Things have changed, the jujutsu world was busier than ever with the emergence of Sukuna’s vessel, even leading Nanami out of hiding and back to his death sentence. You’ve changed, spending the last two of these years teaching at the Kyoto school; only having been transferred back over to take over the second years while Satoru dealt with the Itadori case. Everyone seemed to mellow out, even Satoru. Being a teacher seems to have finally jump-started the part of his frontal lobe that produced empathy. He was calmer, almost nicer, in a way. He didn’t wear white bandages anymore, instead swapping them out for a black blindfold. It was nice. Things felt nice and almost complete in a way they haven’t for a very long time. You still chat with Shoko, but now you have Nanami to hang out with again; catching up on some four odd years and how you’ve both been doing.

Satoru still seemed to tail you but in a very different way. He was busier now, still taking on missions and teaching his classes, but wherever you were he didn’t seem to be far behind. Especially if Nanami was there.

“My two favorite Kouhai!” You hear yelled from down the hall. You groan letting your head slump against the table and Nanami sighs following suit, today was definitely not the day. Doing shots and getting ramen at 3 am seemed like a great idea: but god was hindsight twenty-twenty. Your head was pounding.

It didn’t take long for him to burst into the teacher’s lounge, only pausing when he saw the two of you face down. You heard it, if only for a second; but it made your blood run cold. That fucking laughter. You feel your stomach churn and you let out a shuddery breath, squeezing your eyes shut. You were not going to cry. You had been working on it these last few years. Challenging yourself, trying to find different outlets; but when it came to Satoru nobody could ever seem to win. You feel the lump in your throat and a hand on your shoulder.

“Oh?” His voice intones, sounding delighted. “Thought some time away would do you good, didn’t know you were still a crybaby.” You could hear him smirking.

“Gojo, I don’t think that comment is very appropriate.” Nanami says, his voice gravelly and warning.

“Lighten up,” Satoru chuckles, “I’m just teasing her.”

“You’re as incorrigible as I remember,” Nanami sighs, pulling his glasses off and rubbing his eyes. “They let you teach the youth?”

“Nanamin,” he coos, “Bold of you to assume I need permission to do anything.”

Scratch that, nothing has changed. He was just as annoying as he was in high school, and he’ll continue to be annoying until something strong enough crawls out of hell to kill him.

“Woah, calm down sweetheart,” he says, pulling his hand off of you, “I can feel you spiking, you wanna fight me or something?”

“Don’t,” Nanami warns, giving you a tired glare. He’s played this game before and he knows how it ends.

You did. You absolutely did. Even if it meant getting your ass blasted halfway across the dojo, if you could land even one punch you’d be satisfied. You lift your head up and turn to glare at him, ignoring the inertia of your hangover. Your eyes were watering in rage, and you could feel your heart racing and your cursed energy practically boiling below the surface.

His lips part a bit before they curl in into a smirk.

“Oh. You do wanna fight me.” He says. He bends down to sit on his haunches, even going as far to lift the blindfold up so you’re truly eye to eye.

“That’s cute,” he says, smiling in a way that seems dangerous. “You sure you’re not gonna cry if I hit you?”

“Go to hell.” You spit, you’re seething, this wasn’t good. He looks you over once, then twice, before laughing. That same laugh that made your stomach churn in a way you couldn’t describe. He reaches a hand forward, cold against your cheek wiping one of your tears.

“Oh sweetheart,” he whispers, rubbing the tear between his fingers. “You wouldn’t last a second. You’re weak.”

You snap. You’re bringing a hand forward to slap him but it’s grabbed in the blink of an eye, shoved back against your chest with a force that pushes the table. You could see Nanami out of the corner of your eye reaching for the nata, but he stops, because Satoru is laughing again.

“Really cute,” he laughs, “You’ve got balls, I’ll give you that.” He lets go of your hand and stands up stretching. “This was fun, I've gotta run though; the students should be done with their laps right about now. If you really wanna try that again, meet me in the training room after school.”

He’s just about out of the room before he shoots an eerie glance at Nanami. “And if you come, come alone.”

“What…the fuck was that?” You whisper, dropping your head into your hands. The adrenaline coursing through your body made you feel almost nauseous. You heard Nanami sigh and feel a hand on your shoulder.

“Is he gonna—”

“He wants to sleep with you.” He says bluntly.

What.

“What?” You say, almost ready to flip the table because nothing makes sense today. “He wants to beat my ass!”

“Beat? No.” He says, a hint of a smirk on his lips. “But as someone who was subjected to the boys dormitory, I am painfully aware of how Gojo-san flirts, it seems like nothing about him has changed.”

“What are you saying?” You say.

“I’m saying,” he says, fully sitting up, “He used to taunt Geto-san in a very similar way, he’s got a very… roundabout way of flirting. As juvenile as it is, this is him flirting. I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner.”

“You mean this is a pattern for him?” You groan.

“Once again, you weren’t subjected to the boys dormitory,” he says and shivers a bit. “Those fights in the courtyard took very interesting… turns.”

“He’s going to kill me,” you groan, rubbing your face.

“You’re going?” He asks, raising a brow. You can feel your cheeks heat up and you shake your head.

“I-I never said that!”

“You implied it.”

“Did not.”

“You did.”

“I did not!”

———————-

The day seemed to drag on as you waited for the clock to strike three. Maybe if you had been better distracted it would have flown by faster, but Satoru seemed to want you fired up long before your little meeting. He took your fucking students. Walked right into the classroom, and decided today was the day he wanted to take them on a day trip to Korea. The bastard didn’t even have the decency to ask if you wanted to go. Just waltzing in like he owned the place and poofing away with your kids. It makes your blood boil even hotter, because he knows the second years have state tests coming up soon. You couldn’t even remember the last time one of them has scored above a fifty, the highest score was Panda, and you couldn’t even document his work without looking insane.

So here you were, in the lounge with Ijichi going over reports because you weren’t salaried yet and you’d rather die than let Satoru keep you from a full day's pay. The poor man was practically shaking next to you, hoping you didn’t snap and test out your black flash on him. He wasn’t too far off either, you were wired, the knots in your stomach growing tighter each time you replayed the events of the day. You wouldn’t hurt him, intentionally; but you were seconds away from asking Yaga for a cursed corpse to blow off some steam.

The problem is, it wouldn’t even be satisfying. You only had one target in mind, and he was frolicking around doing God knows what in Korea. The clock struck three, and Satoru still hadn’t returned.

He didn’t show until almost six, you had already trained and warmed up; even going as far as sparring with Nanami to prepare yourself. You now owed him dinner and a bottle of brandy, but you felt ready.

Your blood was pumping and you felt alive.

Satoru waltzed in just like he had to your classroom, and you saw blue; all you could see was blue. His cursed energy illuminated the room which set to piss you off even further. There was no urgency in his steps, no sense of duty; he walked in like he was perusing the convenience store.

“Sorry,” he snickers, raising his hand in greeting. “Got a little carried away, forgive me?” A condescending pout plastered on his lips. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“You’re sorry?” You breathe in disbelief.

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” He says, stripping off his jacket revealing a shirt that had no business being so tight.

“You’re so fucking--” you say, cutting yourself off with a groan. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You don’t just leave people waiting--”

“You came alone,” he says, cutting you off. “Didn’t bring your bodyguard?”

“Bodyguard? What the fuck are you talking abou—”

“Please,” he scoffs, “Like Nanami-kun doesn’t trail you like a dog?”

“Oh so he’s the one trailing me?”you scoff. “Satoru, I can barely get away from you.”

He takes a step closer, his breath tickling your neck. “Yeah? So you’ve noticed, can’t get enough of you—”

“Oh give it a rest”You groan, taking a step back. “Flirt with the wall, are we gonna fight or what?”

He chuckles, taking a step forward. “You still wanna fight?”

“What else would I come here for?”you scoff, “You said if I was still up for it we would, so let’s fight”

“Let’s fight…”he chuckles, shaking his head. “Alright”

He takes a step forward, you can feel the cursed energy radiating off of him barely contained.

“I’ll raise you something better, sweetheart” he continues, flashing a pointed grin. “I’ll take this” he says, snapping his fingers and the aura of the room shifted; feeling lighter. “Off.” He was closer now, the gap between you two slim to nothing, you could feel his breath he was so close. Was it…? You reached forward tentatively and recoiled when you actually touched skin.

It was.

Infinity was off. He smirked, giving you a nod. “And, I’ll even let you strike first. I heard from a little birdie that you’re close contact”

“I don’t need your pity” you scoff, raising your hands. “Don’t hold back”

“Oh sweetheart,”he laughs. In the blink of an eye he was surging forward and your legs were kicked from underneath you. Before you could hit the ground he was right there to catch you.

“You won’t make it out alive if I actually fought you” he says, there was another surge and you were thumping your head against the mat while he stood over you, extending a hand. “and we need this pretty head attached that pretty body…y’know, in case we need backup”

“You’re such a bastard!—“you exclaim and yelp when he phases in front of you again, grabbing your hands and pinning them. This wasn’t fair, he was too fucking fast you could barely see him; trying to track him with your eyes made you sick.

“Fight with your hands, sweetheart”he goads, appearing behind you and pushing you to the floor, his foot on the small of your back. “Not your mouth”

Another flash of cursed energy and he’s crouched down in front of you, holding out his hand again. “Awww, already tired?”

You don’t take his hand instead swerving to kick his ankles, hoping that would take him down. He falters a bit to your elation, but you weren’t fast enough for the kill. You should’ve brought a cursed weapon, what the fuck were you thinking? The moment you’re on your feet you’re swept off of them again.

You’re panting, unable to even strike and spending most of your time on the defense avoiding his blows. He’s close again, right against your ear.

“Still want me to play fai-”

You crack your fist back instinctively, surprised when it actually makes contact with his jaw. Your heart was pounding in your ears, the adrenaline making your body tremble. You could barely breathe, every ounce of your being going into not ending up thrown across the room.

“Hah”he says, rubbing his jaw. “Cute. You call that little love tap a punch?”

“Stop calling me cute”You spit out through gritted teeth, gripping his arm and digging your nails in causing him to wince. If you couldn’t land another hit you surely weren’t going to let go.

“Get your fuckin claws out of me”he grunts, gripping your other arm so you’re both at a standstill.

“Stop calling me cute then,”you repeat, digging your nails in deeper; you’d break skin if you kept going, you kind of wanted to.

“Ah”he grunts, the pain turning into laughter. “Can’t I call it how I see it, baby?”

He grips your arm tighter to pull you closer. “So fucking cute”he says, his breath against your cheek. “The way you squirm…god”

“I fucking hate you”you seethe, trying to pull your arm away. His hands were so cold, but they felt nice against your skin.

“Do you?”he asks, “you fucking hate me?”he purrs, pulling you even closer. Your heart was beating out of your chest, the adrenaline churning in your stomach and making your knees weak.

“Yeah”you breathe. He pulls up his blindfold revealing those bright blue eyes that have your heart beating even faster.

“Then show me how much you hate me”he says, one last tug pulling you flush against his chest. You could feel his heart beating, and you couldn’t pinpoint why it felt surreal. Satoru was untouchable in a way that had him seen as less than human. To confirm he did in fact have a heartbeat throws your world on its axis again. The rhythmic thumping against his chest lulled you into a trance.

“Come on”he says again, his breath fanning over your head. “If you hate me so much then show me”

“Maybe you can’t?”he muses. “What is it? Tell me, I’m listening”

“I hate you”you repeat, your voice taking on a shaky tone.

“Aw baby”he coos, letting go of your arm to squish your cheeks. “This doesn’t feel like hate, now does it? You’re all over me”

“Let go of me!”you grunt, swinging blindly. Your heart was thumping rapidly and you could hardly breathe.

“Do you really want me to?”he asks, his touch light now, ready to back off if you gave him the word. And you couldn’t.

Time paused.

Did you really want him to?

Your breathing falters and your stomach churns as his lips turn up in a feral grin, his canines sharper than any person’s should be. You wanted to feel them against your throat. You could feel his cursed energy buzzing against your skin, it felt electric. His grip softened a bit and his eyes took on a lighter gaze.

“Really”he says, his voice low and serious in a way you’ve never heard. “Tell me to stop and I will. It’s all your call.”

Did you want him to stop?

One look in his eyes and you knew things would never be the same.

Thanks for reading the inner workings of my mind with this fucker. It’s not my best or even good but it’s honest work🥹

If you want a pt.2 with the actual smut lmk but it might take me seven to eight business months to finish.

[morningsharksworld]

Hi! So I'd like to request (if you want too) headcanons of Hazard and reader having a hard-core flirting thing going on. But neither is making a move and everyone's like bro KISS ALREADY-

You can decide who makes the first move!

(Also I love ur writing I need more of this man)

What it would be like to hardcore flirt with Hazard (JUST MAKE OUT ALREADY)

General Dynamic

- Hazard and you are constantly locking eyes in conversations, but instead of looking away, they hold the gaze with a subtle smirk or eyebrow raise. It leaves everyone in the room feeling like a third wheel.

- Their banter is razor-sharp but never truly mean—it's like a game of verbal chicken where both are testing how far they can push before it gets real.

- Leaning too close while explaining something, brushing fingers when handing over items, or Hazard casually putting your hair behind your ear because “it bothered him”.

- Hazard calls Reader things like “sweetheart” and “hotshot” while Reader shoots back with “tough guy” and “Spiked for brains”. The nicknames become progressively flirtier over time.

Group Reactions

- Mutual friends and even the Phreaks are so done with it. Constant comments like, *“Will you two just kiss already?”* or blatant matchmaking attempts at group events.

- Hazard will throw a “don't wait up" as Reader leaves the room just to rile everyone up. Reader, unfazed, winks and says, "You wish."

- The group starts theorizing that the prolonged flirting is some kind of elaborate prank or game they're playing with each other.

Hazard’s Style

- Hazard loves to lean in close when talking, with that trademark smirk, and then back away *just* as it seems like he might actually say something meaningful.

- Occasionally, Hazard lets the guard down—just for a second—saying something like, *“You’re not as bad as I thought you were,”* before immediately covering it up with a laugh.

- Hazard steps in when needed, whether it’s someone hitting on Reader or a dangerous situation, but plays it cool after, with a casual, *“Can’t let anything happen to my favorite rival, can I?”*

Your Moves

- You play the game just as well, but occasionally stumbles over a quip when Hazard’s intensity catches them off guard.

- After you found out that Hazard likes to be praise, you tend to sneak in small praises like “You’re annoyingly good at this, y’know?” which Hazard always catches and turns into a smug grin or if you catch him guard…you’ll just see a freshly made tomato :].

- You LOVE to outdo Hazard just to see that spark of competitive fire in his eyes—whether it’s in training, arguments, casual bets or just to see how much flustered can you get him before he breaks.

- Speaking of breaking first, one night, when the teasing’s gone too far, Hazard corners you, smirks, and plants one hand against the wall beside your head. "Ye’ve been dancin’ ‘round this for long enough” he says, his voice low, laced with that distinct Scottish lilt. You raise an eyebrow, trying to hold your ground despite the way his words send a shiver down your spine. “Oh, do you? Go on, Hazard, enlighten me." His smirk deepens, and he leans in, his breath warm against your ear. "Ye want me tae make the first move. Admit it, lass." You let out a scoff, though your voice wavers slightly. "Big words for someone who’s been as scared to do it as me." Hazard pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his teasing smirk softening into something sharper, more determined. "If ye think I’m scared, ye dinnae ken me at all." Before you can fire back, he closes the gap, catching your lips in a kiss that's rough and unrestrained, like he’s been holding back for far too long. When he finally pulls away, his breath mingling with yours, he grins, his accent thick and dripping with smugness, "Told ye I’d be the one tae break first." You grab the front of his jacket, pulling him closer, a smirk of their own spreading across their face, "Don’t get cocky, Hazard. This isn’t over yet." And just like that, the tension snaps, the teasing taking on a fiery, new intensity.

[injvns]

if words were flowers - zhong chenle

wc: 478

notes: based off the title of the curtis harding song :P enjoy!!!

if words were flowers, chenle would give you them all.

you don't know how long it's been since he opened his mouth, but it's been quite a bit since he shut it. 

he started off showing you clips of the latest golden state warriors game, raving about steph curry, then it went to how basketball has been going for him personally, to how if he had his own team he'd make daegal the mascot, and now he's planning a picnic date with you and daegal.

"do you think we could bring those chocolates you like or would that be too risky?" chenle's got his notes app open, writing down his groundbreaking picnic ideas, "ooh! or maybe i can get the macarons from the place in town instead!"

he looks so proud of himself as he backspaces to replace the words 'chocolate maybe??' with 'macarons from that one place.'

you can't help but smile at his excitement, it amazes you how chenle never lacks the imagination to keep endless conversations. words flow out of him like petals in the wind.

he hasn't stopped rattling off ideas, you honestly think his brain runs at least 20 miles faster than his mouth can keep up with. you also think it might be time to finally cut him off.

"babe, we can have a picnic whenever we want, slow down." you reach out to grab his phone from his hands, "figuring out all the details doesn't need to be done today."

he turns to you in sync with the taking of his phone, "but i was on such a roll.."

"and i'm sure you can get your groove back whenever," you put his phone on the table beside the couch before quickly turning back to him, "your thoughts are kind of endless, lele."

he scoffs, "you know you love my voice, don't even try to deny it." the sentence ends with an overly dramatic eye roll.

"i do love your voice, but i also hate you so they cancel each other out." you shrug nonchalantly as you say it, though your grin is anything but.

"then i guess i just have to talk so much that it overpowers the hate." he copies you, shrugging casually, but eyes smiling brightly.

"i guess you do," your head falls onto his shoulder, a content sigh leaving your lips.

chenle has never been one to stop talking around you, or at all. it's like his brain is running at full speed while his mouth is on autopilot, and today is no different. you can feel the vibrations of his voice as he talks, head rested where his neck meets his shoulders. it's relaxing, lulling you into a sleepy daze, but you'd rather die than give up listening to the soothing tones of chenle's voice.

if words were flowers, you'd cherish every single blossom chenle gifted you.

[rhaellatully]

B-Side (Fanfiction)

AO3

FF.net

AN/ Congratulation to Arcane for making me write again after 4 years... I really need to get back to my WIPs...

Anyway, a very very big thank you to @beforetimes who beta this fic and made it some much better (and also went through the trouble of correcting all of my mistakes)

She looks at her father in the eye one more time before she pulls the pin. She doesn’t hear the boom, instead she sees this orb, and she is being torn apart by it. The world spins around her. It pulls her in all directions. She can’t tell where is up or down. She wants to throw up. It spins, it shakes, she can’t see, until the kaleidoscope appears. She doesn’t hear the boom, but she hears her screams.

Something escapes her hands, followed by a loud noise. Beer spills on a wooden floor. 

Jinx stares at her hands: something is... different. Are her nails shorter and-

“Everything alright, Powder?”  A familiar voice calls.

She turns around and looks up. And there he is, standing behind the bar, like he always did.

“Vander?”

He looks normal, but older. Grey hairs and wrinkles are accentuated by the frown on his face.

“Are you okay?” He says, a worried look on his face.

Jinx saw and heard him so many times before, but never like this. He looks like he should have been. Like the doctor never found him. Like she never gave him to the doctor. Like she never killed him the first time, or the second. Like she never jinxed him.

What is going on? They should be dead. They were meant to die together. To free Vi from all the pain and suffering they bring. All the horrors she created were meant to be blown away. Reduced to ashes. Nothing but a bad memory. One that the Piltie would kiss away and make better.

So, why?

Vander is stepping away from the bar now. He’s coming toward her. She doesn’t know how to move anymore. She can’t run, but she can’t stay. 

The bell rings. Her head snaps toward it and the air is gone from her lungs. Mylo and Claggor walk toward her. They’re different too. They’re bigger. Claggor’s cheeks are smaller. Mylo’s hair is shorter than it should, and he has this moustache. They never looked like this, she never thought of them looking like this before. They’re different but they’re good different.

Vander’s hand is on her shoulder. It’s warm, so warm. His other hand came to wipe away a tear she hadn’t realised was on her face.

“What’s going on Powder?”

Uh, she made it to heaven, somehow.

She’s good different too, she finds out, looking at herself in the mirror after Vander sends her downstairs. He thinks she pulled one-too-many all nighters lately. Yet, the bags under her eyes are the smallest she’s ever seen. Her cheeks also look fuller. Her hair is shorter- no longer, she had cut it, then Ekko fixed it shorter. And there’s this pink strand, the same colour as Vi’s hair.

And her eyes too, no more shimmer, probably no more use for it here.

She doesn’t get to look at them for long, because a hand comes to cover them. In less than a second she spins her attacker around and he’s pinned against the wall. 

“Ouch! Sorry! Sorry!”

With trembling hands, she lets go of him.

“Ekko?” She asks, and a part of her wants to be wrong, wants him to have survived the battle. He had his time loop thingy, he shouldn’t have been able to lose. He should be alive, he has no business being here. He’s the boy savior. Unless he sacrificed himself to save someone, or everyone. He shouldn’t have died. People like her should die, not people like him. He wanted to make a good world, a better world. That’s what he should be doing, not being dead here with her.

But then, he gives her that kind smile as he rubs the back of his neck.

“Okay, I won’t try to surprise you anymore.” He says, and she doesn’t care anymore.

He’s dragging her through the streets as she tries to keep up while having no idea where they’re going. He won’t let go of her hand. He grabbed it at the Last Drop, and insisted that they had to go. She wanted to ask where, but lost the ability the second they stepped out. 

Zaun is good different, too. There’s so much light. The air smells better and it feels easier to breathe, almost like Topside. The buildings are not on the verge of collapsing. The people are walking around carefree, the children are running down the street laughing.

Heaven is a nice place.

They reach the bridge, there are no barricades, just shops, people and enforcers who look... friendly. She remembers the bridge of her life. She passes the spot where her parents died. A man is selling food there. 

Ekko guides her to where they could have died together and she loses her footing. He catches her. 

“Sorry,” he says, an apologetic smile on his face, “Maybe we should walk.”

Jinx wants to say no, because if they are not running, why would he hold her hand? But he doesn’t let go. 

They reach their destination. It’s the academy. She doesn’t understand what they’re doing here. Or why so many people are trying to get there. Ekko keeps walking but she doesn’t move. He stops rather than letting go of her hand.

He smiles at her again.

“I’m sure we made it. They’ve increased the number of seats available again. And even if they hadn’t, we’re not the ones who need it.”

She thinks she understands what he’s saying, but it doesn’t make sense. It can’t make sense.

He starts walking, and she follows all the way to the walls where the results of the entrance exam are plastered. 

“Let’s start at the bottom.” he says, and she lets him. Because if their names are on the boards somewhere, it has to be at the bottom, right? They’re brilliant, she knows it, but the Pilties and their academies care more for prim and proper language than groundbreaking ideas. Even with all the brains in the world, all it takes is one Piltie with a nice bag of money and their sit goes to someone else. Why bother trying? Just to be stuck in a classroom full of Pilties and fancy professors trying to teach them stuff they could learn on their own from books. They’d have easy access to the library, though.

They make their way up and their names don’t seem to be there. He seems so focused, as if he was looking for the solution to a complex equation. She sees him swallow hard as his hand rises higher. Will she see his face break again?

Then he laughs his hand is at the top of the board, and so are their names. Ekko first place, her second. 

“How?” It escapes her lips before she can think ‘it’s heaven, of course they’re there’. But Jinx never wanted to join the academy. So, why?

“Did you fill out the exam in crayon?” He asks with that damn smile on his face. 

Right, it’s his heaven too.

“We’re in the fucking academy,” she says, and she hears him laugh again.

This time he grabs her and swipes her off her feet. He spins her around once, before putting her down, still holding her. His forehead pressed against hers. She’s crying again. She doesn’t know why. 

Ekko’s hands leave her sides to grab her face again. His thumbs wipe away the tears. And he looks at her, that same way he looked at her toward the end. There’s something she doesn’t understand in his eyes. Until he looks down at her lips. Is he going to… kiss her?

He leans toward her, she leans away. He freezes and looks at her, confused. She leans toward him. Their lips meet. It’s nicer than she imagined.

Heaven really is a nice place.

They return to the Last Drop. The second they walk through the door, silence falls, and all the heads turn toward them. Everyone is here; Vander, Mylo, Claggor, Benzo. She sees more familiar faces around, and even Babette is looking at her with hope in her eyes.

“We made it!” shouts Ekko, and cheers erupt all around them.

Mylo almost runs at her arms stretched out, she expects him to strangle her, but he hugs her. She doesn’t have time to react before Claggor joins him. Jinx feels warm, like the sun itself is holding her.

“Vi would be so proud of you,” Mylo whispers and she feels cold all over.

She thinks she’s going to cry again, but she hears someone say, “Let her breathe.”

She almost fights her way out of their arms to turn around.

He’s here.

And he’s good different, too.

His eye. He doesn’t need her to give him his medicine. His scar doesn’t look as bad as it used to. He stands straighter. His skin is pinker. 

His smile is brighter than she’s ever seen it.

“Well done, Powder,” he says as he hugs her, “I knew you’d do great.”

“Silco,” she doesn’t cry, this time she laughs.

Heaven really is a place worth dying for.

The next day she’s nursing a violent hangover.

“I’ve never seen you indulge yourself so much before.” Vander tells her.

“Oh, she deserves it!” Silco joins in, “Before long, the two of them will be sitting on the Council.”

“Or not, if they don’t want to.”

“Of course!”

“As happy as I am to see the two of you like this, can you go do it elsewhere? My head is killing me.”

“Of course, Powder.”

It feels weird to hear Silco call her that, but she could get used to it.

She feels better in the afternoon when Ekko comes to find her. He says they should go tell Vi. She doesn’t understand what he means. But ever since she died, she’s learned to go with the flow.

They go to her lair. Even that place is brighter and warmer. There are different trinkets everywhere, and railings. It still feels like her, but a different her. A happier her, maybe.

They go to the tent. There’s a shrine to Vi. Why is there a shrine to Vi? She survived, she made sure she survived, so she can’t be here, but why is there a shrine?

“She looks so young,” Jinx comments when she looks at the painting of Vi.

Ekko takes her hand as they sit down. “If she could see you…” He doesn’t finish, Jinx is grateful for it.

She will see me, she wants to say, when she dies too she’ll see all of this and she’ll love it.

Jinx is making her way to Benzo’s shop with food to share with Ekko when she sees her. Her hair is brown again. She’s running around with a group of children, laughing so hard as she does. She knew they would meet here eventually. She skips toward her. Her heart swells with every step that brings her closer to her. 

She sees her trip on the ground. Jinx gaps and starts running, but another woman gets to her first. She picks her up and starts whispering sweet things at her.

They have the same eyes.

It makes sense. It’s heaven, so Isha has her first family back too. She’s safe and happy. And she doesn’t need Jinx. 

That’s a good thing. 

So why does her heart ache?

“Are you okay?” Ekko asks her.

“Yeah.” She doesn’t want to talk about Isha with him, especially when she has no reason to feel bad. Isha is with her other family, and so is she. It would have been better if they had never met anyway.

“Pow-pow,” Ekko calls to make her look at him, “ever since the entrance exam result, you’ve been… different. Are you still unsure?”

“No.” Well, maybe I never wanted to go to this academy anyway.

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I just think with it, we can accomplish great things. There’s still so much to do for the undercity. And I know that together, we can do anything.”

Jinx has heard that last one before, when they were getting ready to go kick some Noxian butts. She smiles.

I am glad we died together this time.

After a while in the tunnels she recognises the way they’re going. He’s taking her to the Firelight’s hideout. She remembers when he first took her there, after she had let the grenade fall beneath them and let him guide her out of her lair. He had shown her his mural with her face at the centre. To remember and honour everyone they’ve lost. 

“To keep them in our hearts and move forward,” he had said, handing her paint, “What did she look like?”

And Isha had joined the mural as close to her as possible.

Jinx wonders what this place is now. Maybe there are people living there. Ekko had built this place to be a refuge. People don’t need  a refuge like back when she was alive here, though. It could be a playground, there were so many children there. Maybe here it belongs to them, and they play all day, just like she and Ekko did in the junkyard.

There’s water on the floor, it’s not deep, but it splashes when they walk. Once they’re inside she looks up, and freezes.

This is Vi. Her Vi. She’s not supposed to- Why is she-? How is she-?

Her breath quickens and they all start screaming at her. 

What have you done? You’ve managed to kill one of us after all! Why are you surprised? You’re a jinx. You cannot change your own nature. Jinx! You will never belong in heaven! Why would any God let you in? So that you can burn the place to the ground! You’re going to jinx us all again! This is a special hell crafted just for you! You’re a jinx! You’re not meant to be happy. Murderers don’t get happiness. You jinx everything!

“Shut up!” she shouts, throat raw.

She runs away. When she hears Ekko shouting after her, she runs faster.

She ran but had no idea where to run. She couldn’t go to her lair, it was different, it wasn’t hers. Nothing here was hers. Not the Last Drop and not the wrong Vander, or wrong Silco, Mylo, Claggor, or wrong everyone.

She ran to the cannery, this was a place for her. The place of Jinx’s birth. That’s where she belongs. But as she got closer she noticed the people going toward it. They looked sick and broken. This should have been a good sign but when she got there she saw in large bold letters the word ‘hospital’.

They have hospitals, the fucking cannery became a hospital.

Jinx ran away from that too. She went into the fissures, where the Grey still filled the air. They hadn’t fully eliminated it, they couldn’t fix everything. 

She sat down where she could see it fester below without coughing her lungs out. That’s where he found her, because of course he found her.

“You’re not my Powder, are you?” She hears him call behind her.

She chuckles humorlessly, “Nope, I’m Jinx.” Now, go away.

“Are you from the same place as the other Ekko?”

She sighs, “I guess.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Was he ever going to leave? “I didn’t realise- he didn’t give me details, okay!”

She needs him to shut up. To stop talking to her as if she was Powder. To not be so nice to her. To not be here. She can feel him standing away from her. She can picture his face, with his eyes full of hope, just like that day on the edge of the turbine. She doesn’t want to see this fake Ekko and his perfect life with his perfect Powder. 

“Are you okay?”

Why does he have to be like this? Why is it that in every universe he’s like that? Always trying to save her.

“I’m not Powder, okay? Now leave.”

“Look, I’m just trying to help you.”

She turns to face him. He looks worried: of course he does. He doesn't understand that she's nothing like her.

“Just because I have her face doesn’t mean you have to care.”

“Actually you have more than her face, you are inhabiting her body.” He says with a cheeky look on his face, as if they were friends.

“Well, I don’t know how to leave it, so…”

“Powder, Heimerdiger and the other Ekko created a machine that could send him back. With their notes I’m sure we can figure it out.”

“Good for you.”

Powder and Heimerdiger aren’t here anymore. If he wants to build his machine, let him have a crack at it, but leave her out of it. Give the machine to her, she’ll probably find a way to blow the entire city up with it.

“Look, Powder-”

“Jinx! My name is Jinx.” She almost screams it at him. He flinches, and that’s how it should go.

“He did say you were different.” He says, not backing down, always the brave one.

“Oh, really?”

“He also said your ideas changed the world.”

She burst out laughing. That’s one way to put it!

“Do you know what I’ve done? Did he tell her?”

He looks at her with the same terror her Ekko used to. She laughs, almost manically. The way only a Jinx would laugh. The laugh that does nothing but scare people.

“I’ve killed them,” Jinx whispers at him and laughs some more, even when nothing feels funny at all. “Vander, Mylo and Claggor, all in one go. Silco too,” she pauses, “But that was later.” She gives him her smile and it makes him flinch. “And I killed so many of your friends in between.”

He stares at her and says nothing. 

“And I killed them on purpose! Unlike everyone else. Everyone who gets close to me dies… one way or another. Except you. The boy saviour always makes it.”

Jinx sits back on her spot. He should leave now: Jinx can tell that he’s scared. He should leave before she jinxes him, too. She can hear his footsteps, but they’re not getting softer. They’re getting louder.

He sits next to her. “I gave her the tip.”

Jinx looks up at him. 

“I gave her the tip, and they all went while having no idea what was actually up there. If I hadn’t they would never have found the crystals. They would never have fallen to the ground. There would never have been an explosion. If it weren’t for me, Vi would still be alive.” He sighed, it’s a heavy sigh, filled with sorrow. “Everyone tells me it’s not my fault, but there’s still a part of me that,” He pauses to take a shaky breath, “That still feels like I killed her.”

There are no tears in his eyes, but she hears them in his voice.

“It’s not the same. You couldn’t have known there'd be an explosion, it was a good tip.”

“Whatever you did to kill them, did you know it would?”

Jinx doesn’t have the strength to answer, so she just cries. Because she didn’t know. She only wanted to help. 

In between sobs, she lets out, “What about everyone else?”

“I don’t know, you’ll have to ask your Ekko.”

Going through the notes is more difficult than she thought. They don’t use big fancy words like Talys and his partner did, but the doodles, the discussion in the margins, all the little things in the pages tell her how much fun they had. He had more fun with me.

Or maybe, he only had fun with her when he thought of the other her.

Other Ekko works dutifully on the project. Seemingly unbothered by her, which still baffles her. He probably doesn’t understand what she is, and what she’s done. 

It’s better not to explain it to him. Just get back and then… 

The first night, when their stomachs start to growl, he proposes to go “home” to eat. She can’t. She refuses, and when he ducks out anyway, he comes back with food. Says he told the others they were working on a project, that they let him come back here, but are worried.

Powder doesn’t go around disappearing. Jinx hopes they finish this fast.

Working with this Ekko is not the same as working with her Ekko, but it’s close enough. There’s something about the way they bounce ideas off of each other. Like the gears inside her head turn faster. It brings her back to when they were children, when they were searching for books in trash, trying to understand mechanisms by taking gadgets apart and rebuilding them. There’s something comforting about it. But it lacks the excitement of working with her Ekko. 

She always ends up thinking of the days they spent preparing to fight the Noxians. Making her lair airborne had been a crazy idea that somehow worked. Jinx couldn’t have done it with this world’s Ekko; he wouldn’t have taken the risk. 

That’s the thing about her Ekko–he’s a daredevil. He’ll jump off an airship to reach his goal. He’d face an explosion again and again to save her. Was he always like that? Or is it just having her around that makes him as crazy as she is? 

She believed that when she pulled the pin, but now, with this Ekko, the one who has never met a Jinx before, she sees cracks. He will redraw the same schematics six times, perfectly identical, always. He will violently rip off pages of his notebook and throw it away when he realizes he‘s made a mistake. He forgets to eat. Apparently it happens when he’s focused and Powder is the one to remind him, usually. He starts breathing really fast and clutching his head one day, because he has just realized he made a mistake yesterday. 

Maybe that’s not something she screwed up, then. Maybe her Ekko was always a bit insane, too.

“It’s the power source,” she says one day, “We’re screwed.”

“What do you mean?”

“What they used were crystal shards, not a real Hex-crystal. That’s why Heimerdiger had to step out to make adjustments during the process.”

“To redirect the energy!” He exclaims before rushing toward Vi’s shrine.

“We don’t have an actual crystal, we can’t-”

Before she can finish, Ekko shows her a bag full of crystals.

“We had sworn to never use them,” he explains, “but given the circumstances, I think she’ll understand.”

She didn’t want to go back to the Last Drop. What would she do there? Talk to the other Vander, Silco, Claggor and Mylo, and pretend that she was their Powder? As if she had any idea how to be like her. She’d probably manage to kill them, too, given enough time. But then the other Ekko had told her, “why don’t you let yourself enjoy some of your time here? your me definitely did.”

They had been humour in his tone and she had no idea what he meant, but her curiosity had pushed her to take his advice. If spending time with those people had led Ekko to want to see her again, then she’d like to know what he had seen.

So now Jinx sits at a diner table with Claggor at her right, Mylo at her left and Silco and Vander across from her.  

“So what’s that project you guys are working on?” Claggor asks with excitement in his voice.

“Secret,” she answers before stuffing her mouth.

The food was rich in taste and homely, Vander must have cooked it, it tastes like something from a memory.

“Since when do you keep secrets?”

A cold chill washed over her. Coming here was a bad idea. They were going to figure out there was something wrong with her. They were going to get mad. They would be scared and confused, all shouting at her. And that’s when it’ll happen. That’s when they all die.

“I think she’s not making anything,” exclaims Mylo, snapping her attention to him “She’s just getting more alone time with her boyfriend!”

She stares at him and feels her cheeks warming. Laughter erupts around her.

“Really?” This time it’s Silco that calls her attention. “You’re about to spend the next couple of years locked with him at the academy, and yet you’d rather spend your time with him rather than with us?”

Mylo and Claggor laugh even harder and she can barely hear herself say, “I’m sorry.”

“Leave her be,” Vander comes to her rescue, “She spent more than enough time taking care of us, let her have some fun.”

She doesn’t know how to describe the look he gives her. It’s the kind of look he would give Vi. She thinks it means, ‘I’m proud of you,’ or something. Definitely not the kind of look he should be giving her.

“Seriously,” says Claggor, “it’s going to be weird not having you around all the time.”

She feels terrified. It must be visible because Claggor keeps sending worried glances over at Mylo.

“We’re grown men. It’s about time we stop holding you back and learn to take care of ourselves.”

Jinx manages to divert attention from herself for the rest of the evening. 

It’s a strange thing. One moment she’s laughing, smiling and content, the next she remembers that this is the life she could have lived, had she not fucked everything up. It’s like being built up and broken over and over again.

By the time Vander asks someone to clean the dishes she volunteers just to be alone. And yet she wants to go back to them: it hurts but it’s also so wonderful to have them alive. It almost feels worth the pain.

She doesn’t linger on this for long because Vander joins her. She’s scared of what he’s going to say but he just quietly helps her with the dishes. She’s not very good at it, mostly because she doesn’t always clean. Hell, most of the time she doesn’t even use dishes. Vander just chuckles and helps her.

“You know you don’t have to feel guilty.”

She drops a plate. It doesn’t shatter, just falls into the water with a quiet splash. 

“Joining the academy is a good thing, and if it means you have less time for your family it’s fine. We can manage on our own and we’re not going anywhere. It’s about time you use all your smarts to make something out of your life.”

Her eyes are watery, Jinx knows those words are not for her but she can’t help but reply, “What if nothing I make is good? What if I just make everything worse?”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” He tells her with a smile. She feels the tears rolling down her cheeks and he quickly adds, “And if you struggle you can always turn to Ekko or your brother, or even Silco and me. I mean, we’re not geniuses but we can give good advice when it’s needed.”

She wraps her arms around him. The tears are still falling but they don’t feel like sad tears anymore.

“You’re not alone, Powder.” He says before holding her tight.

As she makes her way to her bedroom she spots Silco writing in a journal.

“Still working?” She asks.

“Yes, I’m afraid my work is never done,” he sighs heavily, “I’m going to have to leave again in a few days.”

“I’m glad you were here.”

He smiles at her, “Me too. And I’ll be back soon, don’t worry.”

“I’m gonna miss you.”

He gets up and walks toward her.

“Now, now, you’re a big girl, I’m sure you don’t need me anymore.”

She pulls him into a hug and hides her face into his shoulder. “I’m always going to need you.”

He hugs her back and says, “Please, I’ve always needed you more than you needed me. You’ll be fine.”

“Here.”

Ekko hands her a pendant, on it there’s a flower. It’s pretty, and it spins. Looking closer she can see their faces carve in the petals.

Before she can ask him anything he says, “He gave it to her, but she says she didn’t think it was meant for her.”

She stares at it again. It’s meticulous work, detailed but not excessive, his style. A small smile forces its way onto her face. Jinx puts it around her neck.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t blow up in our faces.”

First the lightning comes, like at the cannery, they all start to scream and she doesn’t know if she’s going to be able to stand it. But it’s all cut off when the sphere appears around her. She breathes in and this time, she’s ready.

The last thing she sees is the other Ekko holding the other her in his arms. He smiles up at her.

He keeps himself busy. It’s the best way to avoid falling apart. Scar tells him that they have no one to fight, and they are not alone in helping anymore, that he can take a break. Ekko begs him for a job, any job, instead.     

He needs something to do, anything. The look he, and all of the other Fireslights, gives him feels like a stab in the heart, because it’s just another reminder of what could have been.

He repairs the roof. He teaches the children how to fly a hoverboard. He helps cook dinner for everyone. He talks with Sevika about the meeting and what they could and should be doing. He tries to come up with a new and more efficient energy storage device.

It helps, but never for long. Because, they sat on that roof the first night she spent at the hideout. Because, one of the children has dyed his hair blue and swears he's going to be just like her one day. Because, they cooked together the night before the battle. Because, Sevika has to say that she was easier to deal with than the Council. Because, working on anything reminds him of the time they spent transforming her lair.

The nights are the worst, when nothing can distract him from his grief. It’s the third time. It should be easier by now. But it’s worse. It’s so much worse. This time he’s not just grieving what was, he’s grieving what could have been.

After having seen the other universe. After having convinced her to drop the bomb and step off the ledge. After rallying the under-city together. After fighting side by side. He had hope that they would get a future together.

He knew things would never be as they were. That they would never be like the other Ekko and Powder. But he thought that they could build something new. 

Maybe Jinx would have stayed with the Firelight, she had liked it there during the few days before the battle. It might have taken her some time. They could have worked on projects together. That had come to them just as naturally as it had before. Eventually, she would have started to play with the children. That would have won over the few Firelights that were still wary of her. They would have visited Vi together, if only to remind her that she was a Zaunite and always would be. She would have spent a lot of time with Sevika, much to the Council’s annoyance. 

She would have cooked weird things and forced him to try them. He would have fought her, but ultimately conceded, always. He would have taken her flying on his hoverboard, far above Zaun, even higher than the Hex-gate. She would have modified the overboard, in a seemingly superfluous and random way, but a surprisingly useful one. They would have fought about that, and about her idea of games appropriate for children, and about the priorities for the Firelights, and what music to play during the day, and the right flavour of pancakes. They would have laughed, too. About her hair, his clothes, Sevika, Scar, and about the Pilties. They would have spent nights awake making fun of Pilties. 

And on one of those nights he would have looked into her eyes. She would have looked back confused. He would have leaned toward her. She would have frozen at first, but then she would have closed her eyes and leaned back.

But none of that would ever happen. Instead, he would remember all the time they played as children. All the time they fought as teens. Eventually the childhood memories would fade and the only moments left would be those last few days. 

Three days, that’s all he had been given. Three days they spent arguing with the rest of undercity, and trying desperately to build everything on time. They barely had any moments alone together. They never even got to paint together. They transformed her hideout while shouting orders at everyone else. They only got to laugh when painting each other. He only got to hold her twice. Once right after she stepped away from the ledge. And again right before the battle. He only held her hand once, when he brought her to their sanctuary.

He got to kiss her once and it wasn’t even her.

Sometimes he thinks about what it would have been like to kiss his Jinx. It would have been more wild, he thinks, probably with more teeth. It makes him chuckle. Then the hurt comes back, because he doesn’t know, and he never will.

He never told Vi. He can’t. He doesn’t want to burden her with the knowledge of the happiness they could have had. He doesn’t want her to know that their world would have been better if she had died. He hates himself for thinking it, but he knows that, for him at least, it’s true. And he fears it would break her in a way even Caitlyn can’t fix.

He builds her a shrine, like Powder had for Vi. He prays and talks to her, like they had over there. He tells her about his day. About what Vi is up to. He tells her about the changes in Zaun. He tells her he wishes she was here. And some nights, when the pain is too great he begs her to come back. To pull another miracle. You’ve done twice already, why not a third?

He has a lot to tell her today. For starters, mister I’ll-be-just-like-Jinx-one-day thought it would be a great idea to try and jump off his hoverboard mid-flight. He broke his leg. Ekko tried to lecture him. He got too angry, though, and almost yelled at the poor kid. Thankfully Scar took him away quickly. He hates that he lost control like this, especially in front of a child. He barely had time to apologise to the kid before he was informed that Sevika was looking for him. 

Ekko knew that was bad news before he even reached her: Sevika only ever wants to see him when things go to shit. Turns out the Council thinks the factories need to reach their pre-war quotas before the end of the month. How they’re supposed to do that when half of their population is still wounded and recovering, he has no idea. She wants the Firelights to help her make a show of force in front of the Council, to remind them that the undercity is a united front. 

And there’s another problem: A few days ago, the Jinxers put on a little homage to Jinx, to celebrate her sacrifice. Ekko didn’t go. He didn’t want to see what a group of people who never knew her would do. Apparently they just threw a bunch of paint explosives around town, landmarks associated with Jinx, including the building she blew up on Progress Day and the Council chambers. 

Needless to say, the Council are not happy about that. As far as they are concerned this is “in very bad taste” and all those involved “need to be disciplined.” The little dictator that put Noxus on their doorstep can go home scott-free, but a bunch of kids throw paints on their precious building and suddenly there’s a need for discipline. Some things never change. 

After an entire evening locked with Sevika, Babette and her other “advisors” to try to find a solution, he returns home, skips dinner and goes straight to his quarters. 

He wants to go to her, pretend she can hear him, imagine her thoughts, her voice. Give himself whatever comfort she can give him. And collapse on his bed feeling a little bit less shitty about everything.

He pushes the door open and there’s someone before his shrine. She has her back turned to him, all he can see is a cloth wrapped around her skinny frame and short blue air, when she turns around his heart stops.

He thinks he is dreaming. She can’t be standing in front of him. But she’s here. She looks real. Like he had last seen her. His eyes run across her, trying to find a trick, hoping to find a confirmation. That’s when he sees the necklace.

She notices and touches it, “He said she thought you made it for me.”

His breath shakes and he throws his arms around her, his tears run down the crook of her neck. He feels her arms coming around him, Jinx clings to him, just like he’s clinging to her.

He doesn’t know how long they stay like that. He is scared that if he lets go she’ll vanish.

Finally, with her voice shaking she asks, “Can I stay here, at least for while?”

Ekko sobs as he says, “Please don’t leave, not again.”

AN: I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it, writing Jinx pov is difficult I hope I got it right. Writing the alternate universe is also fun, Silco and alt-Silco are two very different people...

[dirthamen-enjoyer]

please remember that this is all my personal thoughts and i might be wrong about some of the things. it is critical. this started off as one specific topic about solas and then ended up turning into more of a ramble. i guess? anyways spoilers for veilguard under the keep reading line.

i wish my brain worked properly sometimes because i really want to know why i feel like they didn't write solas cohesively enough. to me, he is the best part of datv. and no, it's not because i romanced him in inquisition. actually, i could never finish his romance because he was such a know-it-all and it would annoy me lol. (it's because i'm a know-it-all and know-it-alls tend to clash. i plan on forcing myself through it one day though.) despite him annoying me, i liked him as a character. i liked his reveal, the moral greyness of him.

i think mainly my problem is how they presented his morals and why he wants to tear down the veil. it feels like they couldn't decide how to focus him. so originally he's tearing down the veil because it was a mistake and wants the world to go back to the way it was so the days of the ancient elves - specifically after the evanuris are gone - could return, at least that's what i got from it.

then at the beginning of veilguard, it suddenly it feels like tearing the veil down is just a byproduct of him needing to move the last of the evanuris to a better prison. huh? in my head i always thought that solas was ready to fight the evanuris when the veil is brought down because he's willing to take the risk of dealing with them just to bring the old world back. maybe that's too headcanon-y? also i never got around to reading the books or comics fully so i might have missed some details.

then at the end it's "i must do this for mythal or her sacrifice would be for nothing" or whatever he said. huh? i don't get why it's suddenly about mythal, even with the regret murals showing how close they were. it should be about him and all he sacrificed, only for it to not go the way he wanted. without even talking about what was revealed in the regrets murals, he sacrificed the world he knew to lock the evanuris (and forgotten ones) away to try and make life better for the common elves, the slaves.

i don't know how well that last paragraph comes off. i'm just saying that it felt like it didn't belong. his whole story is about regrets, yes. makes sense. he regrets the events that happened because of the veil mistakenly happening. he regrets what's in the murals (which i might talk about in another post because :/) but the game acts like him tearing down the veil is just selfish. there's no other nuance there, it's just selfish. huh? there is so much nuance to this position, in my opinion, that i can't even figure out how to write it.

okay so i've officially lost my train of thought about this original topic, which means i don't know what else to put. i'll just say that i feel dumb that i don't understand it while it feels like everyone else does. also i don't understand why i dislike how everything ended for him. it was like someone punched me when lost elf started playing because this ending didn't feel right. and i don't know why. (that one ending... "i am a god!" bffr he would NAWT FUCKING say that.)

also let me just quickly state that i do not think they should have made the evanuris, and elves, originally spirits. it takes away the fantasy in a the fantasy story, is the best way to say it. i know it sounds weird, but... mysteries are good. not everything needs an explanation. we could have had the mystery of "what were the evanuris?" if they kept them as just gods instead of explaining them. just have the reveal be that the gods weren't good to their subjects and are all-powerful. no need to explain all the time.

this has nothing to do with how much i wanted to fight actual gods (i did. i wanted to go up against actual gods other than the archdemons. and we know that reveal :/ ) or even how much more impactful it would have made solas's history.

[ilysungho]

2 and 26 for myungjae <3

a/n: i hope this is good! it's not too long but i liked writing it teehee wc: 0.5k contains: sub!jaehyun x dom!reader, use of toys (ball gag), use of nicknames, degradation, handjob, edging sorta?, lowercase intended, prompts italicized

“open your mouth sweetheart.”

your puppy boy obeyed and did just so, waiting patiently as you tied the ball gag around his mouth. jaehyun’s expectant eyes looked at you, him naked for you on your lap like the good boy he is. his precum coated his hard dick, threatening to stain your clothes.

your hands fluttered over his body, fingers tracing along his lines and curves. they reached down to his nipples, pinching them in the process. he let out whimpers of satisfied pain, the gag muffling the sounds.

your slow touches drove him crazy when he began trying to hump onto your clothed body. jaehyun’s arms wrapped around your neck for support, moaning at the lack of your touch where he needed it the most.

“my pretty slut is so desperate to be touched hm?” he groaned against your palming now. he loved being rewarded as your good boy, but loved when you degraded him just as much. his responses to you calling him a slut drove him crazy, unable to stop humping on you.

your hand wrapped around his leaking tip, and the other around his waist. his head rested on your shoulder as you whispered praise mixed with degrading names. his body reacted to all the words under your touch, the breaths from your whispers making his ears go red. a bright blush rose on his cheeks as he produced weak sounds of pleasure.

“only i get to ruin you like this, you got that sweetheart?”

jaehyun’s body shook in response to your possessive whisper. his grip onto you tightened to help him regain balance, all while you worked his length using his slick as lube to help. his drool spilled out of the sides of his mouth, further onto your shoulder. his teeth would’ve surely been grazing there by now if it weren’t for the toy restraining his mouth.

your fist continuously slid all the way down to his base and back to the tip with ease. his hips grinded to further stimulate his orgasm, getting closer by the second. he gave you complete control of his body and relished in your movements. your hand only moved that much slower though, his whining muffled and tears forming. protests of the slow pace came out of his mouth, resulting in more drool instead.

“what is it darling? don’t worry, i’m not sharing you with anybody. you’re mine, and mine only, and i’m going to make you remember that, ok?”

before he could respond, you increased your pace suddenly, his back arching onto you as he closed his eyes and tightened his core. he wanted to come all over you but didn’t want to yet either. he wanted to be edged but also wanted to cum already. so he edged himself as you fisted his cock. jaehyun prolonged his orgasm until he couldn’t anymore, cum spilling all over your hand and shirt, some even getting on his body.

his twitching body laid limp on your lap as you removed the gag and kissed his face all over. he smiled lazily, loving your attention, wanting to stay in your hold like this forever.