#but i have a few more samples i want to try over the next few days just to see what i vibe with

[ratscabies]

I got a few samples of perfume/cologne today bc I want to find My Scent, and one of them is called poets of berlin and has top notes of blueberry and lemon, so I was like. I neeeeed a sample of this, it seems so ME. a lot of reviews were saying the blueberry + vanilla notes were too intense and it smelled like a blueberry muffin. anyway I tried some on myself just now and I'm like what the fuck kinds of blueberry muffins are y'all eating bc this smells nothing like a blueberry muffin

[chlorinecake]

✰ don’t give me that look | l.at oneshot

pairing: switch! producer boyfriend! anton x sub! f. reader

🇨​​💿 ​​🇳​​🇹​​🇦​​🇮​​🇳​​🇸 ꗃ SIZE KINK, kissing, lap sitting, tit & clit play, anton records a sex-tape in the studio, unprotected sex (back shots), roughly 1.8k words … !?

a/n: for @antonitty and her delusions - hope u like it bae !!

You sat idly on the studio couch, admiring your boyfriend from afar as he silently toggled with the sound desk, mixing a few rhythms.

Crossing your legs, you eyed him up and down, taking in the view of his focused frame.

“You’re pretty good at flicking and twisting those knobs, y’know?… I wonder how nice it’d be if you used that same energy to please me…”

He let out a soft breath, eyes still trained on the soundboard as he spoke, “Babe, you know I’d rather spend time with you… I just have to produce this track sample before tomorrow…”

“And then?…”

“I’m all yours,” he finished, flashing you a promising look through his shaggy bangs.

“Fineeee,” you agreed in a sarcastic tone, slightly rolling your eyes at him, “but can you let me try something on the record first?… it might help…”

Anton quirked a brow, turning to meet your face with his own intrigued one, “You mean like… singing?”

You simply nodded in response, just before promptly getting up from the couch to sit on his lap at the music desk.

He didn’t know what to do with his hands now that you were this close to him, so he simply rested them at each arm of the spinning chair.

“You might even learn a thing or two from me if you pay attention,” you went on, knowing that he’d smile at your playful words.

“Go ahead then, superstar… blow me away,” he whispered tauntingly, keeping his thighs firm as you adjusted yourself on top of him.

With his headphones secured around his head, Anton prepared himself to hear whatever it was that you wanted to add to the track project.

Pressing the red “record” button, you let the instrumental play for a few moments as you got a feel of the beat, this one sounding more R&B compared to his usually chill rhythms.

You started by toggling in a few bass notes on the drum-pad, watching Anton’s reflection in the soundproof screen ahead for any sign of reaction.

So far, he only bobbed his head slowly, still anticipating your next move.

That’s when you picked up the mic, bringing it to your lips and letting out the most pornographic moan you could muster.

Anton’s hands flew from the chair arms to take off his headphones, reaching forward to pause the track recording as you suddenly burst into a fit of giggles.

“Babe, what the hell?” He blushed, covering his face with one hand as butterflies rushed through his stomach, the sound of your moan replaying in his mind over and over, “this is serious, y’know?”

You turned around in his lap, taking in your boyfriend’s shy demeanor as you fought to hold back the laughter growing in your chest.

“What? Was it bad? I can do better if you want me to…,” you pouted, batting your eyelashes at him as he put his hands behind his head, slightly smirking at you despite the evidently nervous red flush of his cheeks, “you can even help me...”

“Don’t give me that look, ____,” he sighed, voice sounding a bit more raspy while still maintaining its usual softness.

Was it nerves?

Was he horny?…

Either way, it didn’t matter to you because he sounded so fucking hot right now—

“What look?” you pressed with a feigned expression of innocence before very intentionally wiggling in his lap a bit.

“Like you wanna be fucked,” Anton said with a wince at your actions, letting his eyelids fall slightly while looking down at you with a clenched jaw.

You couldn’t believe those words had left his mouth so smoothly, his confidence alone causing you to squeeze your thighs together, already feeling so eager for him…

You couldn’t handle it when he behaved so switchy with you… starting off all shy before gradually becoming more and more bold.

His eyes eventually wandered back to the soundboard, so you took it as an opportunity to change the subject.

“You never told me if it was bad or not,” you started in the silence, mind just now becoming aware of Anton slowly getting harder beneath you.

“Well,” he hummed, letting his hands leave his head and slip down to your hips, “it was a solid 50-50, if I’m being honest…”

You scoffed dramatically, an offended hand flying to your chest, “How so?”

“Because… I always love the sounds you make for me, but not when you force them…”

His grip on your hips was firm now, holding you in place before just barely rocking you against his lap in skilled motions.

Despite the simplicity of his actions, your body started to feel dizzy with desire, mind fogging up as his clothed tip continued grinding beneath your core.

“Anton—”

“Shhh,” he interrupted, the feeling of his breath below your ear making you internally shiver, a feathery yet steady groan escaping his lips.

“Can I try something now?” he asked breathlessly, even though the question sounded more like a declaration than a proposal of permission.

“Mhmm,” you nodded submissively, eyes feeling heavy as the warmth amongst your bodies only grew, thanks to how stuffy the studio was.

Clicking the sound desk back on “record,” Anton slipped his headphones over your head, feeling himself get even hotter at how cute you looked in this moment, his chunky earmuffs barely fitting around your much smaller head.

By now though, Anton had easy access to your lower half, given the high-pleated-skirt you decided to wear that day.

You almost felt like half of your body escaped to another planet when Anton’s touch started to wander lower, his hands practically covering the entire expanse of your exposed thighs given how big they were.

His breath remained steady in this moment, despite how his heart kept stuttering like a broken record.

Or perhaps, a sexually excited one…

The subtle movements of your legs helped Anton to shimmy your panties down past your hips, all the way down to your ankles, and eventually the floor.

You sat with your soaking wet core atop your boyfriend’s lap now, two of his fingers soon finding your clit in slow, circular motions.

The thing was, Anton had finally let his intrusive thoughts win, having wanted to get a genuine recording of your moans for a while.

The idea always meddled in the back of his mind whenever you pranced into the studio while he was working on beats…

However, the only issue now was that you were feeling a bit shy with the recorder on again…

“C’mon baby, lemme hear you,” the boy nearly begged, words sounding a bit mumbled with the way he was kissing along your neck.

“I know you want to,” he taunted, free hand sliding up to grope your left tit while his other hand continued toying with your pussy, “no wonder you wore this slutty skirt for me today…”

His voice… it practically intoxicated you… the way it sounded so pure yet so condescending at the same time…

“F-fuck,” you stammered with a moan, furrowing your brows as his fingers applied pressure to your clit, the other hand slightly pinching your nipple as he knew just how to get you to those pretty sounds that he wanted out of you.

“Good girl~,” he whispered in a cooing manner, “but I know you can do better than that…”

He guided you to stand up on your wobbly legs, his fingers meddling with your slick as he towered behind you.

And although your ears were still muffed with his headset, you could clearly make out the sound of his belt unbuckling with tingly clinks, your pussy only pulsing with need.

Before you could even beg to be fucked, you felt one of Anton’s hands hike up your skirt, the other forcing your back to arch over the sound board as his hard length pressed between your folds.

He was way too fucking big, but part of you liked the idea of him potentially breaking you.

It wasn’t easy, but your boyfriend eventually slipped himself inside, letting his tip tease along the ridges of your heat before picking up the pace, the soft pants and occasional groans from his body sounding loud and clear thanks to the headphones you wore.

There was also something about hearing your own moans so audibly on top of his… hearing how he turned you into a whiny mess so easily…

Anton’s hazy eyes met your fucked out reflection in the glass screen ahead, your own vision wandering off to the sound wave reader on his music board.

The way it’s lines heightened with each desperate moan that left your sweaty bodies did nothing but crazy things to the knot tightening in your stomach.

“Touch me, Anton,” you practically whimpered, voice coming out in small hiccups given how hard he was pounding into you.

His hands were already so tight around your waist, but your whiny request let him know exactly where you wanted him… where you needed that extra intensity.

He went to grope your tits, lifting your body away from the sound board with ease as the sight of his flexed biceps nearly made you drool.

The pace of his hips remained fast and controlled as he continued fucking into you, the tip of his cock reaching so deep that you’re sure you felt it in your belly button.

Looking down, Anton saw that the recording had reached just over 3 minutes, despite how your pussy desperately clenched around him, a clear sign that you were close to finishing.

His mouth was full of saliva, not even remembering to swallow given how pleasure drunk he was right now.

And somehow, you caught onto this, turning your neck at an angle and guiding his plush lips to kiss you, only a few seconds passing before he inserting his tongue, grunting into your mouth.

“You sound so pretty, baby,” he said in between kissing you sloppily, right before taking his headphones off your head and tossing them on the couch, still connected to the music desk by a thin black wire, “listen…”

He whispered the last word against your lips, maintaining the most gentle look in his eyes as he kept bouncing your ass on his cock.

You meant to say something, but the weak cries of pleasure kept stalling your speech, the words becoming a jumbled mess in your head.

Anton’s strength helped to hold up your shaky body just as you felt your release gush around him, a bit of it seeping onto his thighs as he continued thrusting.

It didn’t take long for him to cum after that too, a beautiful series of moans spilling from his lips as he panted over you, letting his hand slide away to end the recording.

The screen read ‘5:18s’ before Anton reached over to save the track, leaving both of you shocked that you even finished that fast together…

Still a panting mess, your boyfriend held your hips close to his, letting his weight fall back in the spinning chair with you on top of him.

“We should totally do quickies in the studio more often,” you huffed tiredly, leaning back against Anton’s chest as he hugged you close, still inside your pussy.

“Not that I’m disagreeing with you, but maybe after I install an air conditioner in here, we can plan something,” he smiled, not even bothering to wipe the sheen of sweat from his face that inevitably kept your hot bodies clung together.

Your hand found his, fingers idly toying with the rings he wore as he adjusted himself beneath you, “I should probably let you get back to work now since I’ve distracted you enough already—”

“Let’s just stay like this for a little longer,” he interrupted, almost yawning at how comfortable he felt buried inside you in this moment, “please?”

“Of course, superstar,” you replied playfully, nestling into his warmth and letting your eyes fall shut as you listened to the sound of his gentle heartbeat…

✶ taglist: @squoxle, @nikisdubblchococake, @wonbinisbabygurl, @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @watamotee33 @ot7sevenlvr

✶ 🎀 ✶ check out more works like this on my RIIZE masterlist !!

[sinofwriting]

Insane Person - Max Verstappen (I ❤️ MILFS verse)

Words: 667 Summary: Max wants to be sure he can give Pan kids. (Part of the I ❤️ MILFS verse) Note(s): Takes place during the original I ❤️ MILFS fic, before Max finds out Pan’s age. Max is insane btw, this has been a blurb idea since I wrote the original fic and finally it has been written so enjoy, lol.

Masterlist | Support Me! | I ❤️ MILFS verse

“I’d love to give Logan a sibling or two.”

The words so soft had made his heart speed up as soon as he heard them and now thinking about them, letting them play on repeat.

It’s early in their relationship, though they haven’t yet talked about it yet, no matter how much Max is dying to do so. But Max wants to be the one that she gives Logan siblings with.

Which is why he’s sitting in front of his computer and looking at medical studies.

A lot of it is going over his head. The most schooling he sat through was the first four or five years of it. He can grasp engineering, anything to do with cars and their data, but medical terminology goes over his head.

He powers through, he doesn’t know Pan’s exact age, his mother would smack him over the head if he even thought to ask her age, but she’s got to to be mid to late thirties if not early forties considering Logan is twenty.

The studies say she’d be fine getting pregnant, shouldn’t have trouble conceiving, and his cheeks burn at the word, at the image it puts in his mind. They haven’t quite got there, but they’ve gotten close. They throw out the term geriatric pregnancy which makes him flinch because forty wasn’t old, at least not if you weren’t a driver and to see it be called something like that felt harsh, rude. Another one calls it advanced maternal age which really isn’t any better, but it’s just relieving to see that’s still possible. And then a study mentions that if people are having trouble conceiving that not only does the person birthing need to get checked, but both do and a new panic takes over his brain.

What if when it came time to try, he was the problem? It would really be his luck. Things had been going very well for the past few years, it would be his luck that he couldn’t give the woman he loves more kids.

And Logan wanted siblings, the panic grows as he remembers Logan chiming in that he’d love some siblings. Oh god, what if he failed in giving Logan siblings? He wanted the younger driver to like him, to really like him.

His fingers act quickly, wanting to know how he can know if he can have kids and the results make him blink because it couldn’t be that easy.

He just had to provide a sample in a cup?

Max’s brain struggles to compute that after just reading everything that women have to go through to get their fertility checked.

His hand goes to his phone, he rarely if ever called his doctor, but this was important.

He goes through the motions of confirming he is who he is, wondering how weird it must be for other people to do this for him before he finally gets asked why for the purpose of the appointment.

“I want to check to see if I can have kids.”

“Okay, are you and your partner having trouble conceiving?”

His cheeks burn, “We aren’t trying yet. I just want to make sure that it’s possible on my end.”

“Okay, it’s a simple procedure at our clinic and we could see you in the next three days if that works for you at any time we are open.”

“That’s perfect.”

“Alright, we’ll see you in a few days, Mr. Verstappen.”

He gets the results back five days after his appointment, an email sitting in his inbox, and he forces himself to take a deep breath before finally opening it.

There are words he doesn’t know, ones he doesn’t really want to think about, but there at the end, a note from his doctor that says everything looks great, and he shouldn’t have troubles getting someone pregnant and his fist goes in the air, a quiet but excited yes leaving him.

He could give Logan siblings and Pan more kids, thank fuck.

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Warm Hugs

So it turned into a fic where the reader just cuddles with Silco, how nice and fluffy. Enjoy it while I cook up more angst :)

You shove your hands into your pockets, trying to ignore the way your body shivers every now and then as you watch the goods being unloaded. It's particularly cold today, and you had come rather unprepared for the weather. Then again no one expected it to suddenly start raining in the middle of the day.

Your fingers feel like ice and the freezing wind howls in your ears, turning your face numb. You wish you had brought your coat along, but it had been left in Silco's office. Scowling at the Piltovians who were taking their own sweet time checking the crates, you play with the lighter in your pocket, wanting nothing more than to bundle up under some shelter and warm yourself a little by the lighter's fire.

With a sigh, you look up at the falling raindrops, wondering what Silco is doing right now. You miss his warmth, the smell of cigar ash and scotch, wanting nothing more than to be next to him right now. You hope that he's at least inside and not stuck in the rain like you are. Your thoughts wander to Jinx, hoping that she too is inside, tinkering with her latest gadgets and ready to surprise you with her latest invention.

Oh how you can't wait to get home. The workers have finally finished unloading when you're on the verge of doing it all yourself. One of the Piltovians silently hands you the log, paper drenched by the rain and you scowl hard at him, causing him to flinch. His hands shake as they leave the log and he mutters something you can't quite catch before scrambling back to Piltover, leaving you, your men and the crates of firearms in the pouring rain.

"We'll move them all to the nearest warehouse first. This rain isn't doing us any favours and we don't have much time left after those preening Piltovians took their sweet time with the late delivery. I'll send a couple to Silco as samples." You rifle through the crates, selecting a few random firearms before patting one of the crates. "Any of these go missing and you'll find yourself missing a couple of body parts here and there too."

The crew scarper off with the crates in tow, leaving you alone in the freezing cold once more. You watch on, ensuring that the crates reached their intended destination before disappearing into the shadows, making your way back to Silco's office.

"Dry yourself up. You're getting water everywhere." Silco doesn't look up from the stack of papers on his desk as you step inside, shivering. You raise an eyebrow, and then spot a towel as well as a change of clothes nicely laid out on the couch. Smiling, you grab the towel and walk over to him.

"Thank you." You press a quick peck to his forehead and he grunts, swatting you away.

"Don't you dare water all over the papers."

You only chuckle, draping the towel over your head and place the newly acquired firearms on the table. "For your perusal."

With that, you head to your shared bedroom to properly dry off and change just as Jinx walks into the office, excited by the new acquisitions.

When you come out, towel hanging around your neck, Jinx has made off with all the firearms but one and Silco looks vaguely annoyed.

"She left one specifically for you." His gaze flicks over you and he gestures for you to come closer. You comply, sitting on his lap and nuzzle into his shoulder happily. He grunts, wrapping his arms around you, paperwork left forgotten and runs his fingers through your now drying hair.

"You didn't dry your hair properly." He frowns, yanking the towel from around your neck.

"Hrm?" You remain snuggled against his chest, liking your current position. He huffs, fussing as he towels your hair, muttering about how you're going to catch a cold. You grin, basking in the attention he lavishes onto you and grab his hands, holding them still long enough to slip a kiss in. He blinks, surprised, but quickly regains his composure and pulls you in for another kiss, this time savouring the moment.

You smile, gently cupping his cheeks, your thumb brushing over his skin and feel him lean into your touch. He feels so warm, so soft, you never want to let him go. You feel the roughness of his scar, feel his hand move to rest on yours, feel him move your hand off his scar and you lean in, pressing a kiss to the rough bumpy skin.

"Don't pull away," you murmur softly. He pauses, looking at you with uncertainty, but lets his hand fall away. You whisper a thank you before tracing over his scar, committing the shape to memory, feeling him flinch slightly when your finger goes near his dead eye but he doesn't pull away. He lets out a deep breath, pulling you into a hug and closes his eye.

You can't help but smile softly, pressing your forehead against his as you soak in his warm embrace. You feel safe, protected, in the arms of The Eye of Zaun, and you want nothing more than to be held by him forever. Silco threads his fingers through your hair, sea foam coloured eye gazing at you fondly as your lips meet again. You drink him in, eagerly devouring the taste that is Silco, the one you love, the one you would burn the whole world for, knowing he would do the same for you.

Silco mouths something when you break away for air and you smile back, committing the sight in front of you to memory. Your finger traces along his jawline and he hums softly, hands resting on your waist, pulling you closer.

"Don't move," he murmurs into your ear and nuzzles your hair, resting his chin on your shoulder. You close your eyes, resting your head against his and feel his breath in your ear. You bask in his embrace, knowing that these moments are hard to come by, especially since he has a reputation to uphold as The Eye of Zaun and happily hug him tightly. You love the way he always makes a noise of surprise when you hug him, the way he pretends not to like it when you cuddle with him, soaking in all the warmth you can, the way he lets you poke his cheeks and get away it, giggling all the while.

You move a hand and slip it into one of his, giving it a gentle squeeze. He squeezes back, raising your intertwined hands to your chest, placing it over your heart. You blink, feeling your heart thundering faster as his other hand reaches up to caress your cheek. You feel the callouses on his hand roughly brushing against your skin, the long slender fingers gliding over the scar that splits your right cheek in two.

"It wasn't your fault," you whisper, taking his hand.

"It was meant for me." His eyebrows furrow and he removes his hand from yours. "You shouldn't have —"

"Nope, no more." You place a finger on his lips, shushing him. "I don't regret it and would do it all over again if given the choice."

He huffs, bringing your palm to his lips. Pressing a kiss to the inside of your wrist, he smiles softly at you, "if only everyone else could be as loyal as you."

"Well, then I'd have a lot of competition to fight off, wouldn't I?" You laugh. gazing at him fondly. "I love you, my Silco."

"I love you too." He hums, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. "Always."

"Always."

[grapejuicebrat]

just friends - d.s.

warnings: none just disgustingly cute imagine😛

my masterlist

———

You had always been close with Madelyn. Ever since you met on set of one of her projects, the two of you clicked instantly. Movie nights, spontaneous road trips, and long FaceTime calls became routine. Naturally, through her, you met Drew Starkey.

At first, he was just Madelyn’s friend. Then, he was your friend, too.

And maybe—just maybe—you wished he was something more.

It wasn’t your fault he made it so hard not to fall for him.

Like right now.

“Okay, I’m calling it,” Drew announced, dramatically throwing down his controller. “I can’t beat you at this game. It’s physically impossible.”

You grinned, biting your lip to hide your victory laugh. “You say that every time, and yet you still challenge me.”

Drew groaned, flopping backward onto the couch beside you, one arm draped lazily across his face. “Because I have hope. Hope that one day, I’ll witness a miracle and actually win.”

Madelyn, sitting across the room, snorted. “I’ve been trying to tell you, Drew. She’s undefeated.”

He peeked at you from beneath his arm, his blue eyes playful. “How does it feel being this good at everything?”

You shrugged, nudging his leg with your sock-clad foot. “It’s a burden, honestly.”

Drew laughed, the warm, boyish sound making your heart do a stupid little flip.

Madelyn, ever the observer, smirked knowingly but said nothing.

It wasn’t weird that Drew always ended up sitting next to you, right? That his arm would somehow end up draped across the couch behind you, or that his fingers absentmindedly toyed with the hem of your hoodie? Totally normal friend behavior.

Right?

“Okay, I want ice cream,” Madelyn declared, standing up and stretching. “You guys coming?”

Drew barely reacted. Instead, he turned his head to look at you, eyebrows raised in silent question.

You exhaled dramatically. “Fine, but only if I get to pick the music in the car.”

Drew grinned. “Deal.”

———

The three of you ended up at your favorite little ice cream shop, the kind with fairy lights hanging outside and an old-school jukebox playing soft tunes in the corner.

As you stood in line, Drew nudged your shoulder with his. “What are you getting?”

You pursed your lips. “Undecided. Might need to try a few flavors first.”

Drew rolled his eyes with a smile. “Of course you do.”

When it was finally your turn, you asked for a sample of at least three flavors before deciding. Drew just stood there, watching with amusement, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie.

“C’mon, just get cookies and cream,” he teased.

You scrunched your nose. “That’s your favorite.”

He grinned. “Exactly. Because it’s the best.”

You ended up going with a different flavor just to spite him. When you sat down at a small outdoor table, Drew immediately leaned over and stole a spoonful from your cup.

You gasped. “Drew!”

He just smirked. “What? You stole mine first.”

Madelyn, sitting across from you, wiggled her eyebrows. “You guys are cute.”

You nearly choked. “We’re—”

“Not dating,” Drew finished smoothly, though something unreadable flickered in his expression.

Madelyn just hummed, clearly unconvinced.

———

As the night went on, the three of you sat outside, talking and laughing under the glow of string lights. Drew’s knee bumped against yours more than once, but he didn’t move it away. When you shivered slightly from the night breeze, he wordlessly pulled off his hoodie and draped it over your shoulders, his fingertips grazing your collarbone for just a second too long.

Your stomach fluttered.

“Thanks,” you murmured, tugging it closer.

Drew just smiled, soft and warm. “Anytime.”

Madelyn, sipping her milkshake, smirked behind her straw. “You two are so oblivious.”

You turned to glare at her. “What is that supposed to mean?”

She just shrugged. “Nothing. Just… funny how you steal each other’s food, sit way too close, share clothes…”

Drew chuckled. “We’re friends, Maddie.”

Madelyn hummed again like she knew something you didn’t. “Sure. Friends.”

———

Later, when Drew drove you home, the car was quiet except for the soft hum of the playlist you picked.

He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. “You know, Mads isn’t wrong.”

You looked at him, startled. “About what?”

Drew glanced at you briefly before focusing back on the road. “About us.”

Your heart skipped. “What do you mean?”

Drew exhaled, shaking his head with a small smile. “I don’t know. It’s just… I like being around you. Always have.”

Something warm settled in your chest. “I like being around you too.”

He turned to you again at a red light, something unreadable in his blue eyes. “Yeah?”

You nodded, barely breathing. “Yeah.”

Drew’s lips twitched like he wanted to say more, but the light turned green, and he faced forward again.

But the air between you felt different now.

Maybe you and Drew were just friends.

But the way he looked at you tonight?

Maybe you weren’t just anything.

[everythingisromant1c]

p1: chemistry read w/ co-star!james

co-star!james potter x actress!reader

summary: before filming can start, your director has to ofc find the perfect person to play your love interest, + what better way to do that than to have a chemistry read?

a/n: i will not pretend to know anything abt film/tv production so this is more than probably innaccurate 🙏 also this first one is not my best work but dw more drama will ensue. <33

full series - masterlist

You'd wanted this job more than anything. You'd worked harder than anyone you knew to kickstart your acting career and knew this opportunity was just the way to do it. When your agent called you about an audition for the lead role in a new show titled 'South Bay'—a drama named after the L.A. region itself—and gave you a sample of the pilot script, saying you fell in love with it wouldn't be a stretch. And after those few months later when you'd received the call that you'd gotten the part, it was safe to say you were walking on clouds for weeks afterward.

Your amazing director Minerva had cast you first and foremost, knowing your role was key to the show's success, and you'd already built a strong relationship with her after just a few weeks of knowing her.

After casting you, she'd informed you that the show's next order of business was finding someone to play your character's—Cassidy's—love interest, Aaron. When she'd told you that initially, you didn't think anything of it. But when she told you they already had gone through the first round of auditions for the role and that it was time for the infamous chemistry reads, you had to try your hardest to stay completely calm.

Aside from the fact that you'd soon be meeting the person you'd have to spend hours working with every day for God knows how many months, you also knew that the casting directors were going to be looking extra careful at the romantic chemistry you were supposed to have with the actors they brought in. You willed yourself not to get worked up when the morning came for the chemistry reads with the men auditioning for Aaron, and reminded yourself that your role in the show was already secured. Yet, for some reason, you were still on edge.

Luckily, the casting directors had narrowed down their options from the hundreds of actors who had come to audition for the role of Aaron originally to just a handful, making your job much easier. By the time noon came around, you'd already read from the script with three different candidates.

Just as you'd expected, they each had done a close-to-perfect job in their auditions. Your personal favorite was the second actor you'd read lines with, a sandy-haired guy named Remus who you thought was a really nice person as well as actor. It was important to you that the person you were going to have to pretend to be romantically interested in was a person you at least liked, and it was all too easy to imagine working with someone like Remus.

You'd expressed your thoughts to Minerva when she'd asked for them, and she nodded in agreement—a good sign—before the two casting directors beside her were calling for her attention.

"This next one, Minerva," cooed the curly-haired woman you knew as Poppy from next to her, "we think you're going to like."

"Am I?" she asked, lips curling up.

"Oh yes. When we saw him we knew right away we had to bring him in for the chemistry reading." Poppy nodded to you. "He looks promising. And he certainly has the background; his parents are Euphemia and Fleamonet Potter."

The other casting director hummed in agreement, not hiding their impressed and widened eyes. "Not to mention, he has that accent."

You had to fight your expression from turning sour. A Potter? If there was one thing you didn't appreciate in the world of acting, it was nepotism. After working so hard and starting from the ground up to get your acting career where it currently was, the last thing you wanted was to have to see your director swoon over some guy just because of who his parents were.

Nonetheless, you had faith in Minerva to pick the person who truly deserved the job. You watched her nod at the two women beside her, intrigued nonetheless. She waved a hand over to the security guard by the door in the corner of the room.

"Bring Potter in?"

The burly man nodded and exited the room briefly, and not a minute had gone by before he returned with the man you assumed was the young Potter in tow.

You subconsciously stood up straighter when you saw him, trying to push away any premeditated opinions of the man approaching. Brown curls and a genetically gifted bone structure you could see from feet away, he walked into the room confidently with reason. He immediately offered the security guard who had brought him into the room a handshake, and you watched as the tall brick wall of a man lit up with a bright smile from the gesture. Potter then rolled out more charming words of greeting to the director and casting directors, and you took the opportunity to scan him over in more detail.

With an interest you couldn't explain, you saw that he was strikingly handsome in the kind of way you'd expect the son of two celebrities to be; he was wearing a black t-shirt that clung to him flatteringly, with that sort of movie-star quality you knew audiences always swooned over. It didn't help that the moment he walked in you saw each of the directors turn to each other with raised brows and suggestive smiles that only widened when he introduced himself, charmingly posh British accent and all. You had to fight back from rolling your eyes at their reactions.

"James," greeted Poppy, standing up from her seat to give the man a handshake.

"Poppy," the man regarded, and you felt your eyebrows raise at the fact that he was already on a first-name basis with the head casting director.

She sat back down after a moment, keeping her attention on the man—James—as she spoke. "James, this is Minerva McGonagall, the Director of South Bay."

"I'm such an admirer of your work, Mrs. McGonagall. My parents took me to see your adaptation of Henry Shay's novel about three times when it first came out."

Your parents, you thought internally with some distaste; the famous actor and actress power couple. You had to stop yourself from shaking your head.

"Please, just Minerva," the director responded warmly, and you noted that she hadn't told any of the other actors to call her by her first name. "And thank you."

Poppy nodded happily before she held out an alarming hand towards you. "And let me introduce you to the wonderful actress who is going to be playing South Bay's leading lady Cassidy Ward."

You plastered on a smile and introduced yourself as plainly and confidently as you could, definitely not feeling suddenly conscious of your appearance as his warm-colored eyes raked over you.

James took that second to scan you over before realizing with a simmering feeling in the planes of his chest that there was something special about you he couldn't make out, something that had him wanting to greet you with more than a handshake. He refrained, thankfully, not saying anything after you finished introducing yourself for a second you felt was a beat too long, before scrambling to hold out a hand to you.

"I'm James. James Potter," he said as if you hadn't been already made aware of his last name. "It's an honor to get to meet you."

You didn't know why but his clear flattery only made you more uneasy of him, knowing it was something he'd probably gotten used to pulling out to impress whatever important or famous people he was busy meeting through all the connections he probably had.

You stopped yourself in your tracks; you were being unfair. You'd only known the guy, if you call it knowing him, for under a minute. Shaking off the odd feeling that was creeping its way into your stomach, you shook his held out hand with a polite nod, though that didn't the prying feeling inside you go away.

"Alright." Minerva clapped her hands together, looking between the two of you. "We're just going to do a read-through of scene number thirty-four, Episode three." She motioned towards the camera crew set up behind her, them shooting her a thumbs up.

She turned back around, looking between you and James pointedly. "Remember, your characters Cassidy and Aaron are the only two characters in the show who have known each other for longer than just a few months. They're close. That connection has to be visible, however you want to show that to us."

You didn't know why, but you felt uneasy. You nodded at Minerva regardless, seeing the supportive but anticipatory look behind her eyes as she glanced between you and the man now standing in front of you like you held the answers to all her problems.

James looked surprisingly calm and collected, like there was nothing in the world that could make the James Potter nervous. The more you looked at him and the confident set of his shoulders, the more you thought that was true.

Your director smiled. "Whenever you're both ready."

You nodded, taking a breath in before turning to James. "Where were you last night?"

You watched as James reacted to you in character, his strong brows pulling inwards. "What do you mean?"

You momentarily were taken aback by the almost effortless switch in his accent, but pushed the thought aside. "Last night. When everyone else was at Ryan's party. Where were you?"

He shrugged slightly. "I was in my dorm."

"Really? Because I knocked on your door and no one answered."

"I must've been sleeping. Why do want to know so badly?"

"I don't know, maybe because half the football team got caught last night breaking into the Dean's office."

"You don't think I did that, do you?"

You stared at him and then down at the floor. James—or Aaron, really—shook his head at you, his tone dropping. "I can't believe this."

Then he turned away from you and, as the script had told you to, you grabbed his wrist softly.

"Aaron, wait," you called, and the connection of your fingers to his arm had them tingling with a certain kind of teeming energy, though you didn't let it show on your face. "Of course I don't think you did it. I just don't know what to think. We're supposed to be best friends, yet you won't even tell me where you were."

James let a second pass before he said his next line, and it was like you could see his character's inner turmoil flickering through his mind restlessly when he said, "You want to know where I was, Cassidy?" You nodded. "I was talking with your Professor."

"Professor Brown?" you frowned. "Why?"

"I was trying to get him to let you submit your final thesis late."

"What? You know he told me I couldn't because-"

"Because of me." He paused dramatically, stern jaw working. "The only reason you missed the deadline was because you were helping me when I got too drunk to even make it up the stairs to my dorm."

"That's ... that's really nice of you, Aaron, but you know how Brown is-"

"He's letting you turn it in late for full credit."

"What?" You widened your eyes. "How did you ..."

"I told him how it was my fault you missed the deadline. And I told him about how good of a student you are, how you've never turned in anything late once, not even when we were in high school. But most importantly," he took a step closer to you to hold your hand, something you noted wasn't in the script but made your fingers flood with feeling. "I told him what a good person you were. How kind you are. Even to idiots like me who get black-out drunk during finals week."

You blinked at him, letting a smile overtake your face for a moment. "You really didn't have to."

"I did."

He squeezed your hand and, even if it was only acting, the way he was looking at you so meaningfully made something in your chest tighten excitedly. You didn't have to act when you shifted your gaze to the ground nervously. Why the hell were you nervous? "I don't know how the hell you got him to say yes."

"Well, I also have to wash his car for free for the next six months, but that's just a small detail."

You let your jaw drop. "I can't believe you'd do that for me."

"Of course I would." James took another step closer, still holding tight onto your hand and not breaking the immobilizing eye contact he'd established with you the whole while. "I'd do anything for you, Cassidy."

He nodded slowly, truly looking invested. Then, in a beat as short as a breath but one that must've felt like minutes to you as you stood there unmovingly, he leaned forward. All you could do was blink as his handsome—ugh, handsome—face neared yours before tilting itself to the right, where he left a soft but lingering kiss on your downstage cheek.

Then he pulled away again, the distance between you maybe a few inches smaller than before, before finally whispering, "Anything."

That definitely was not in the script. Your eyes blinked in an alarm that surely was no longer in character, but James looked unbothered, something you were finding was his natural state of being.

You felt your mouth go slightly dry at the intensity behind his eyes as he looked at you, but the last thing you could do was look away now, so you stayed rooted in your place in front of James as you waited for your signal to break character. Waited and waited; you felt dizzy.

"Cut!"

Minerva immediately clapped, the casting directors doing the same, and you felt like you could finally breathe as you dropped James's hand that was still holding yours and turned away from him, not sparing the man a second glance for nervous reasons you couldn't place. Maybe it was because of the fact that the feeling of his stupid lips was still lingering on your cheek.

Your director's tone was neutral when she said, "Great job, you two," though you watched as she turned passionately toward the two casting directors and they began speaking in hushed tones.

You shook your leg subtly as you waited, an antsy habit that you couldn't identify the current cause of, and you felt James lean down next to you, something that sent a nauseating feeling of déjà vu through you.

"Don't worry," he whispered lowly, taking your mannerisms as a sign of distress. He noted that even when frowning you looked extremely pretty, though at his words you left his lips your frown only deepened. "You did great."

You turned to him in confusion and some offense, trying to keep your voice hushed as you asked, "Excuse me?"

He shrugged a shoulder, eyes flicking over your figure for a split second that you definitely noticed. "You just looked tense, is all."

You stared at him blankly, not knowing what he could possibly be implying. Was he saying your acting looked tense? That you didn't look sure of yourself? Like you weren't already the lead and that he was the one auditioning? 

You fought the urge to say that maybe you looked tense because he'd just kissed you on the cheek out of nowhere, and stayed defiantly silent. When you didn't say anything back he let his lips turn up into a lopsided smile that you were sure must work on all the ladies, almost a smirk, and he nudged you in the shoulder a bit like you were old friends. Who was this guy?

Whatever you thought he meant by the statement, you didn't get to say anything back, because Minerva had pulled away from her conversation and was staring expectantly at the two of you. You did your best to soften your expression away from offended and back to neutral.

"Well," she said, turning to the man beside you. "Thank you, James, for coming in."

"Thank you," he responded, tipping his head politely. Then he took a step forward and shook each of the casting director's hands, and you watched with a foul taste in your mouth as their lips visibly fought against fond smiles.

When he turned back around, he held his hand out to you as well, and you regarded it for a moment before shaking it like you did at the start of his audition, though this time it was definitely against your will. His hand was warm and smooth, like he hadn't worked a day in his life, and you hated the fact that you even noted how it felt at all.

Like he knew you didn't enjoy his presence, he smiled at you with something knowing shining in his eyes that you hated before he took his leave, the door to the room shutting behind him.

"That was ..." began Poppy, shaking her head slowly, "Perfect. Just perfect."

You couldn't help the way your lips parted almost exhasperatedly. "Really?" You hoped you hadn't revealed your surprise in your tone.

"Yes," Minerva responded instead, also seeming to be in awe. "Wow." She gestured with her hands exuberantly. "It was like I could see the show coming to life right in front of me."

"Not to mention the chemistry between you two." Poppy tipped her head at you, smirking as she fanned herself. "I mean, wow."

You bit down on the inside of your cheek to keep from saying anything you'd regret. Your throat felt dry. If you heard one more 'wow' from any of their mouths in reference to James Potter again you thought you were going to lose it. You tried to keep the premonition out of your voice as you bravely asked, "So, do you think you're going to cast him?"

Minerva paused for a moment in thought before answering you. "I mean, he was the last actor we're considering for the role, and I think he was the best we've seen today." She looked between the two other casting directors who nodded agreeingly at her words. "But I'd like to know your thoughts."

You blinked at her. "My thoughts?"

"Well, yes," she answered plainly. "He's going to be playing your love interest. And I like to hear my actor's opinions."

You pursed your lips at her words, feeling flattered but also not knowing how you were feeling at the prospect of having to work with James all the time. Although, deep within you, something was nagging at you—something you absolutely did not like—and telling you your answer.

The truth was, the scene you acted out with James felt realer, had come to life more than it had with any of the other actors that day. Maybe it was because he'd taken such liberties with the role, sure, but regardless, he did a great job. The thought made you hate yourself when you finally took a breath in to speak.

"He ..." you began unsurely, and then sighed. "He was great. Really great."

"Perfect!" Minerva clapped her hands together again, and something in your stomach churned. "We'll make contact with him as soon as possible." Her eyes twinkled as she regarded you. "I can't wait to have you two leading South Bay. I have nothing but hope."

"And," Poppy added, "it'll be great for publicity having a Potter in our cast."

The two other directors at the table nodded and murmured in agreement, and you fought from sighing. You thought of the days you'd spend on set with James Potter, of all people, not only having to get along with him but connect with him, with someone who clearly thought they were above you, enough to reassure you when you had already gotten the lead role. And then you thought of what it would be like to release South Bay to the public, your first leading role, only for Potter's undeniably charming face to be the audience's main focus. It left a sour feeling in your mouth.

But it wasn't just that horrible premonition that annoyed you; you didn't know exactly what bugged you about him in particular but you knew it hadn't gone away with his formal handshake or well-practiced manners. In fact, that'd probably only worsened the feeling.

But there was nothing you could really do about it now. At least, not if you planned on keeping your job. You were a professional, you knew that. But that didn't mean it was going to be easy to maintain that title. You really did sigh then, and something rooted in your gut told you it was going to be a long year of shooting.

[amazinglyashy]

I Think You'll Be Okay

Read on Ao3 Pairings: Rafayel x Reader Summary: You find yourself face to face with an old flame. Your heart pounding loud enough for you to hear it, but your feet refusing to move, refusing to get you to safety. That's alright though. Safety comes to you. Or You meet up with your abusive ex-boyfriend again when waiting for the train. Luckily for you, someone else decided to take the train today. Tags: Past Domestic Violence, Past Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Protectiveness, Rescue, Hurt/Comfort Wordcount: 6,107

You fiddled in your pocket, trying to dig out your phone. You had shoved it there earlier when you had left work, on your way out in a rush, trying to leave before any more was put on you. That is, on top of what had already been dumped on you today, forcing you into overtime when you really just wanted to go home. You really didn’t want to be heading home any later than right now, with all of the creeps coming out soon to prey on young highschoolers hanging out in the city after classes, or single women like yourself getting off of work late. The time was already squarely at sundown, which meant you were making it out just in time.

The sun was setting to the left of the platform already, the golden haze casting an orange glow over everything it touched. It was a nice change, you admitted to yourself. Usually when you were leaving, the sky was still a misty shade of blue, the evening only just barely peppering the surroundings with its presence. The platform was also so much busier at that time, with crowds of people trying to shove themselves onto the train, filling every gap they could to shave just a few extra minutes off of their travel time rather than wait for one of the other coming trains. Last you had checked, you were one of very few standing on the platform- the only others being a small group of highschoolers chatting with each other a ways down to your right, and an elderly man dozing off on a bench near the stairs, leaning against his cane as he snored quietly. He didn’t seem like he was waiting for a train though, there being benches much closer to the boarding area that he wasn’t anywhere near, so you had decided to leave him be after you had noticed him initially. 

I’ll leave the waking him up to whoever he’s waiting on. You muse to yourself as you pull your phone from your pocket, unlocking it and giving your missed notifications a scroll. 

There were a few texts from Tara, asking about this coming weekend. She hadn’t sent too many, having seen the pile of work still sitting on your desk by the time of her own clocking out. You felt bad. You were working the next weekend, again, and you felt bad turning her down so often. You didn’t want her to feel as if you were avoiding her, or that you didn’t want to continue being friends, but you were just… busy. You sighed to yourself, deciding to shoot her a call later on tonight. You figured it would be easier to avoid her taking anything to heart if you spoke to her directly. 

You thumbed over the rest of your notifications, swiping away most. A few advertisements, some updates from your mobile games, some social media follows and suggestions, an email or two- nothing particularly eventful. It was almost like magic, though, as you were mulling over one of the emails you had gotten, a name with a heart next to it popped into your dropdown menu. Instinctively, you clicked it without even pausing to read the sample text. 

You couldn’t help it, as the messenger loaded. It was automatic at this point. Or at least, it felt automat-

“Oh hey! I know you-!”

Your head snapped up from your phone at the sound of a familiar voice, the hairs on the back of your neck standing boldly, a scatter of goosebumps forming across your skin. The elderly man hadn’t woken up, no one had come to meet him yet either. The highschoolers were still deep in conversation at the other end of the platform. None of them had spoken to you, and none of them had seemed anywhere near as recognizable as that voice was. 

You glanced over to your left, where your eyes fell on a man who was waving, his hand comically high in the air, as he quickly made his way directly towards you. 

Your feet turned to stone. 

The breath in your throat hitched, and you didn’t even realize you weren’t breathing anymore. 

Why?

Why was he here?

Why was he in front of you?

Why was he approaching you?

How had he found you?

Why was he-

He had closed the distance between you before you had even processed him approaching you fully, you freezing up making it easy for him to pull you into a hug that made you feel like a thousand ants were crawling across your skin. Your shock and disbelief had taken over, overriding any thought in your mind that was telling you to run . You weren’t even sure you would have been able to listen to it even if your feet weren’t frozen. The pounding of your heart had become loud enough to drown out any coherent thought you could have come up with.

He squeezed you, and you wanted to slip down into the ground so desperately. 

You were in danger. You were in danger. You were in danger. 

You were a Hunter, you were proficient in hand to hand combat, a decent marksman, and pretty good swordsman. You’d killed countless Wanderers, and come and gone from the N109 zone with barely a scratch on you after your countless visits. You were fully capable of protecting yourself from anyone and anything, and if you didn’t seem like you could, you would manage. 

But you couldn’t protect yourself from him. 

You couldn’t take back what he had taken from you. You couldn’t stop as your mind was slowly regressing backwards, back to where it had been.

Back to the memories. 

He pulled away, but the respite was shorter than a breath, as the train approached the platform. It felt like time was moving in slow motion. His smile, the people deboarding, the lack of people entering the car that he was pulling you into- Something about going the same way? - his hand gripping the upper part of your arm. But it wasn’t gentle. It never was. It never was. It never was. 

“What have you been up to? Is that a name card from the Hunter’s Association?” He asked, his tone cheerful as you felt your heart dropping through the very rails the train was sitting on. He sounded so friendly, but you knew he wasn’t being friendly. He wasn’t asking you a question, he was making a statement. 

He was saying ‘ I found you~ ♪ ’.

“I-...” You take a small gasp of air, finally processing how little you had been breathing up until the point. He flashed you a little smirk, his hair falling across his eye as he tilted his head at you. Had his hair always looked like that? You didn’t know. You didn’t care. You couldn’t-... remember. 

God, you couldn’t remember a lot of back then. 

It was horrible.

It was scary.

Why was he still gripping your arm…?

It hurt. 

It made other spots hurt, echoing with pain you had forgotten- no, not forgotten about. Pushed away. Tried to not remember. But still, ghost feelings that would sneak into your mind whenever something made you flinch, whenever someone tried to give you an over-enthusiastic high five, whenever you were trying to please yourself alone in bed, whenever someone raised their voice- be it out of happiness or anger, it really didn’t matter. The anxiety would pound into your chest like breaking a door down, like breaking you down until you were tiny little pieces strewn out across the floor, sobbing alone to yourself because no one else could help you. You were alone. This was your cross to bear. You had gotten yourself into this mess, it was up to you to get through this. It was up to you to get yourself out of this. 

“Wipe that shitty fucking expression off your face, you’re making people think I’m doing something wrong.” 

His voice was dangerously low, and sinisterly similar to how he used to speak to you. It was nice to see that nothing had changed, so much longer later. That the same circumstances that led to the bloodied sheets strewn out across the bed and floor were happening again. That the same knuckles that had made forceful contact with the high of your cheekbone were gripping so tightly, they were turning white across the top of your upper arm. You pressed your lips into a thin line, trying to appear as neutral as possible, as the only other patron in the train car with the two of you- tucked back in the corner but raising an eyebrow at the situation, nonetheless- watched. 

He gave you a small shake, and you let the corners of your mouth turn upward in a smile that didn’t reach your eyes. You were just two old flames meeting again, goofing around. Reignited that old flame once more. 

But to you, that flame was a bomb. And it was going to go off the second you were alone with him. 

There hadn’t been any closure when you had left, there couldn’t have been. You could have left with bags secretly packed without so much as a goodbye thrown into his messages while he was at work, or you could have spent three hours talking to him trying to get through to him one final time. But it wouldn’t have mattered. Men like him, were men like him for a reason. They didn’t change, they didn’t find what they were doing as something wrong , and they never would. At least, that’s what everyone had told you. That’s what you had learned at the end. But standing here as the train rocketed towards another new location for him to find out about, you were finding it harder and harder to remember everything you had taught yourself just to get away from him. 

“Are you going to be ungrateful again? Going to run away because you think for some reason you can get better, despite being some fucking whore who runs her mouth? With a bodycount?” He practically spat the words at your face, turning to face you and keeping his back towards the other patron, who had closed their eyes with their head resting back against the seat, waiting for their stop and avoiding getting involved. 

“After everything I’ve done for you, you can’t offer me even the littlest bit of appreciation that you didn’t want to show me back then? I thought you had changed. That you were different.” 

You let out a deep breath, trying to keep your mind steady, but it was hard. You’d gotten used to the word disassociate ever since you’d learned about it. You’d slip into dissociation even on your best days, at random. Talking to Tara, riding your bike, fighting Wanderers, avoiding Luke and Kieran’s pranks- it didn’t matter. It just… happened. And it came on worse when you were reminded of things that had traumatized you. Or were faced with the very things that had caused that trauma- as you were finding out right now. 

He reached up, grabbing your other arm into his other hand, the grip matching the vice-like pressure of the first one that still held you. “You listen to me, you little bitch. I still fucking own you. I don’t give a shit if you’re living in some fantasy land where you think you’re moving on, but you will never find anything as good as me.” He hissed. “Not for what you’re worth. I treated you so well, and you think you can keep treating me and people like shit? Fuck off.” 

He gave your arms a yank to emphasize his words. You just stared straight at his chest, stumbling slightly as the train stopped at the next station, but his grip kept you relatively upright. The time between now and the last stop wasn’t anything you could remember clearly, and you could already feel your mind slipping from your body slowly. You couldn’t stop it. You didn’t want to. It was something you couldn’t explain, but it acted like a muffled fast-forward button on situations like this. You couldn’t say you liked it, but you liked it more than being present for what your ex had to say.

But it was horrible, because no sooner did you start to slip away, did the doors to the train open, and the only bystander that had been seated in the corner left. Whether this was their stop, or they wanted to avoid the situation, you didn’t know. You didn’t care. In your heart though, you knew that was just how it went. You’d be lucky if they called the police, but wouldn’t do anything. There was no proof of anything happening. You didn’t have any. 

You knew he was right.

But then why did it feel like electricity when someone boarded the train? You knew the footsteps without being able to place a name, and the sheer presence was something you sensed without knowing what form it took. 

“Cobalt blue, but maybe phthalo… Oh, Miss Bodyguard. Didn’t think I’d see you tod- Mm?” 

Your heart dropped further than it had at the station when you had first gotten approached.  

No.

Why was Rafayel here?

His comment was cut short, ending in a small hum as he came into your view. You could see a cloud cross his expression as he took in the situation in front of him. You were still doing your best to seem relaxed, and had tried to add a smile as soon as you had realized Rafayel was here, but it didn’t seem like it was working. You wanted so badly to be sick to your stomach, but you also knew if you were, it would only make your ex lose his mind completely. 

“H-Hey, Rafayel, how are you?”

“Do you know him?”

The question was asked by two separate men at the exact same time. One was nearly whispered, the tone borderline violent. The other was gentle, devoid of its usual bratty aftercomment. You just paused, before nodding your head as slowly as you could. 

Fuck, it was so easy to keep your ex under control when it was just you. You hadn’t managed him in front of others in forever, and you had forgotten how to make other people let you handle things. Usually it was as simple as a look. No one wanted to get caught up in the middle of a lover’s quarrel, and were quick to leave. But the doors had already closed behind Rafayel, and his expression was telling you that he was already planning on getting more than involved. 

“Yes!- Yes. Yes, I know him…” You stammered, looking between the two of them, your ex robotically releasing his grip in favor of moving to put his arm across your shoulders. You had to swallow the bile in your throat, but you didn’t move away from him, his expression stormy, while Rafayel’s remained concerned, but fairly unaffected. 

“Rafayel’s an… employer of mine.” You continued, gesturing towards him as he gave the two of you a nod, a small smile flashing in addition. “And Rafayel, this is my-” 

“Boyfriend.” 

You swallowed. 

Rafayel’s eyes narrowed, but he kept smiling. 

“That’s really funny, she’s told me she’s single. Several times actually, whenever I've bugged her about it.” 

You can feel the blood in your veins freeze over. 

No.

You can’t even bring yourself to look up at your ex. You knew what disagreeing with him did, and you knew what blatantly calling out his lies did. You’d experienced the consequences of doing either towards the earlier days of your relationship, before you had learned to follow everything he said. To do everything how he said it. 

And yet it was still not enough, most of the time. 

Rafayel smirked coldly. 

“So, buddy. Do you want to take your hands off of her?” He tilted his head slightly. “Or do I really need to help you?”

The arm across your shoulders felt heavier, until you could feel the pressure disappear. You want to breathe a sigh of relief, but the air gets caught in your lungs as a hand comes down between your shoulder blades at the top of your spine. You’re lurched forward, and Rafayel catches you as you stumble into his chest. “I don’t deal in bitches that can’t treat people with respect or kindness. You can have her.” Your ex spat, knowing that for whatever reason, this man before him wasn't going to fall for his usual tricks. Tricks? No, you thought as you stumbled. He thinks everything out of his own mouth is true, and anyone who disagrees is insane. 

You hadn’t even pulled back away from Rafayel before he had moved you quickly, but gently and carefully to the side, stepping forward as your stomach turned over. You spun around to grab at him, only succeeding in latching onto his arm. 

“Rafayel, stop. You’ll only make things worse.” You stammered as you gripped his arm. He pulled away quickly- but gently, despite his anger. 

“Worse how? Geez, you don’t know this man anymore. You shouldn’t be bothered by strangers on a train platform, and they should know not to approach single women.” 

He emphasized, staring straight at the other man as he did. As if warning him, with his usual snark still backing up his comments. Your ex glared at him. “I don’t know what you’re trying to imply, but I’ll bet you I’ve known her longer than you have. I know all her tricks.” 

“Time is relative.” Rafayel retorted back, taking another step towards him, which your ex matched. Your anxiety was pounding through the roof, and you were desperate to think of anything that could diffuse the situation as they both shot daggers at each other with their eyes. Your ex let out a small chuckle, the kind he would whenever things were about to hurt. The air was leaving your lungs again, but you felt Rafayel shift next to you, and you could feel the predatory behavior like static crossing the side of his arm through the thin linen of his shirt. He had moved, shifted just a step towards your ex, and spoke before you could process what he was doing.

“I’ve done this dance a million times with a million people like you, for less, don’t try me.” Rafayel’s voice was so low, it could barely be described as more than a whisper. It sent a surge of ice through your blood, despite it not being directed towards you. You slowly turned your head, raising it to look at him carefully. You could only see the side of his head, his height also blocking his full expression from you, but you could see just enough of his eyes to feel the cruelty in his gaze.

He wasn’t joking. 

This wasn’t like him.

What was going on?

You reached out to brush against his arm again, but you didn’t know what to do. 

The train lurched as Rafayel reached forward, towards your ex.  

No.

You couldn’t let this happen.

Not here. 

Not towards him.

Not from him .

Your body moved on its own, as you turned your body, the same time the train started to hit its brakes for the next stop. You lost your footing, but you couldn’t let that stop you. You couldn’t let that stop you from stopping Rafayel. The worst of it was the only thing stopping you from falling was the weight of your ex’s torso, the feeling of chills returning the second your body made contact with his again. 

“I-I-” You stuttered, your mouth feeling like it was full of cotton as you stumbled backward into your ex’s body. “No, please. I don’t- no.” 

Rafayel stared at you, his expression blank, before flashing through several different emotions you couldn’t quite make out. Surprise? Absolute fury? Betrayal? Whatever he cycled through, he landed on one you didn’t recognize.

You are now at East Garden station. Next station- West Garden. 

The doors slid open behind you, and a few people filed on as you broke your gaze with Rafayel and glanced over at them. At least there were witnesses. You knew your ex wouldn’t act out too badly in front of so many strangers, and Rafayel, while a little bit feral when it came to columnists and fans that would go too far, you had a pretty good idea that he would remain a lot more calm in the presence of people as well. You let out the breath you had been holding unwittingly. 

“Go.” 

He gave you a slight shove, and you almost tripped onto the platform. As you regained your balance, you processed two things at the same time. 

Rafayel wasn’t behind you. And- 

You could hear him still, his words seething with a poison you had never heard come from his mouth, from any action he had ever committed. 

“If I ever see you in her general vicinity ever again, I will destroy you until there is nothing, nothing , left.” He seethed. “I care about her. Whatever we are after that doesn’t matter. You won’t come back and destroy her peace ever again. You won’t have the chance to. Do I make myself clear ?” 

As you move to turn, to see what would happen next or to hear your ex’s response, you spin face first into Rafayel’s chest, his hands reaching up, placed firmly on your shoulders to turn you back around and continue forward. You try to keep up with his pace, but it’s hard. Despite your stumbling, he doesn’t stop. Not until the two of you are off of the platform and out on the vast sidewalk in the middle of the city. 

You blink, trying to garner your surroundings as some means of grounding yourself, as Rafayel pulls out his phone. His fingers fly, sending a text to someone. The golden hour had passed, and it was twilight out now. The next train wasn’t going to be for another twenty minutes, and the ride itself was more time on top of that. It looked like you weren’t going to be accomplishing your initial goal of getting home before the dark hit. That was too bad. 

It was really cold outside.

Maybe that was just you. 

You swallowed hard, trying to force a deep breath just as Rafayel looked up from his phone. He pocketed the device and moved to step towards you, but his movements were… awkward. Hesitant. He paused a step away from you, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. 

“I… I’m sorry. I-” He let his hand drop, both hanging loosely at his sides as he looked like he wanted to look anywhere except at you. He didn’t let it break his gaze, despite it. “...Geez, I’ve never experienced anything like that before. I didn’t know what to do, what I should do. What I-”

He stopped himself. Tilting his head, his expression shifting into one of concern. 

“More importantly, how are you?”

“I- what?”

“How are you feeling, seashell? What do you need?”

You blinked, and you tried to open your mouth to respond, but your breath hitched in your throat, the sound caught on the lump that had appeared in your throat as your eyes began to burn. Fuck, what? What was going on with you today? First, you’d gone back to everything you had ever been back with your ex, forgetting all of your progress- all of your healthy habits in favor of how he had always made you feel under his touch. Then, you’d been unable to keep Rafayel calm and relaxed despite your ex trying to start shit all over again. And even still, you hadn’t even gotten to go home on time, hell you didn’t even feel safe enough to go home anymore. 

“He-” You choked. Your voice was squeaking, why was your voice breaking so badly? “H-He… He knows- knows where I work now.”

Rafayel stared at you, but his expression was oh so gentle , and seeing that look in his eyes did something to you that made you feel so ugly . It was like the final crack in an old dam as you began to wail. You tried to muffle your sobs, reaching up to cover your face in your hands as the initial shock had finally started to wear away from the meeting, finally started to let the emotions pour in. And all the emotions were fear, fear, fear . 

You couldn’t do anything to stop it as the tears just kept coming, as the choked sounds from your throat as you needed to get the crying out, but find air in between at the same time. Your shoulders wracked with pain from the after effects of the grip your ex had had on you, surely purple and yellow bruises forming where his knuckles had turned white with power just moments ago. It was just going to be another grim reminder of your world coming down, all because of a stupid train ride. 

“Seashell.”

You tried as hard as possible to quiet down, to stop and listen to Rafayel to avoid making him angry. You felt like a kid. You wanted him to help you get to your home, or a hotel, or somewhere your ex didn’t know about. But if he was angry, that would be impossible. That would mean you would be left standing here on the sidewalk bawling like a child, until you managed to pull the effort together to handle it yourself, like you always had don-

“Tell me if you don’t like it, and I swear I’ll stop, but I’m going to hug you now.”

“Wh-”

The word had barely even formed in your mouth, your hands only managing to hover over your eyes as you tried to pull them away at his words, before strong arms had wrapped around you so suddenly. One hand was resting at the nape of your neck, pressing your head so delicately against his shoulder as he leaned down for you- as he leaned down into you. The other was wrapped around your waist, squeezing you against his body like it was everything to him just to have the chance to pull your pieces back together. And somehow, it was so much worse. It was everything, as you began to wail all over again. It was everything and so much more. His actions on the train, his expression when you had stopped him and protected your ex- none of that, none of your worries meant anything in the tightness of his embrace. 

It was like he was telling you everything without speaking, he was telling you it’s okay, it’s all going to be okay . Like he didn’t harbor any ill feelings towards you, that he didn’t hate you like you were hating yourself every single second leading up until this moment. And coming from Rafayel, that was everything, everything, everything. 

“Geez.” He breathed against your hair, his breath labored as he tried to keep his own emotions in check for your sake. “I wish I had found you so much sooner. None of that would have ever happened to you.”

And you knew he wasn’t talking about the train- getting on sooner. Finding you before your ex did, but you didn’t say anything. You couldn’t. But you knew he meant he wished he had found you so much sooner than that first meeting at the fountain with all of the fish, his brochure hanging lazily in hand. Found you long before that man had ever laid his hands on you, had ever wrecked you to the point you were at now. 

“I’m sorry.”

“What?” He breathed the words against you, his hold tightening just slightly. “What are you apologizing for?”

“I-” You held back a sob, trying to compose yourself as best as you could. “I’m so ruined, I’m so sorry I’m such a mess.” 

“You’re not a mess, I promise you, you’re not a mess.” And the way he spoke, you almost believed it immediately. He sounded… tired. “None of it, not any of it, was your fault. You have to know that.” 

You didn’t. You wouldn’t, not for a long time. But the way he had been on the train, no matter how brief of a moment it was- how he was right now, clutching you so tightly in his arms as if you would shatter if he let go for even a second- You had a pretty good feeling that you would someday. Someday, as long as he was around. But for now you settled for feeling everything you were feeling in his embrace, just thankful that for whatever his reasoning, he didn’t hate you for what you had done, for what you felt. 

After a while, you nuzzled your face against the crook of his neck, before gently trying to pull back, signaling to him that you were alright enough to break the hug. He let go of you, but his hands lingered on you just a moment longer than they should have. You stared at the ground as you fiddled with your hands, trying to figure out what was supposed to come next. What you were supposed to do or say next. 

“What do you mean, you didn’t know what you were supposed to do?” You asked quietly. You already knew the answer. Honestly, how often was it that someone would witness what he did happening to someone close to themselves, especially when the person it was happening to was supposedly so strong? So capable of protecting yourself from even the worst of the Wanderers that traversed the city? 

He let out a breath, thinking for a moment, before he opened his mouth to answer your question. 

“Really, the only thing I know is to make sure you’re safe.” He shrugged, crossing his arms as he avoided your gaze. “If I wasn’t confident I’d be able to protect you from the whole thing, and even afterward, with whatever crazy he may try to do, I would have played along with you and not been so aggressive. But besides that, I really don’t know how someone is supposed to handle a situation like that.” 

You blinked. 

“What?”

“What-what? I don’t exactly want you getting hurt, I just wasn’t sure the best way to accomplish that. I wasn’t going to fail, though. I’m not some idiot.” 

You could feel your eyes starting to burn. “Yes, but you wanted to protect me?”

He looked at you abruptly, confused. “Wanted? Bodyguard, it’s not past tense. I don’t care what I call you, pay you for, what we are to each other- Believe it or not, I... don’t want you hurt.”

He flinched a little, watching the tears start to stream from your eyes again, but he just shook his head. “No, no. Geez, what are you doing?” He uncrossed his arms and reached out towards you slowly, gingerly brushing your cheek with his thumb. “No, why is this your reaction? Why are you crying over me caring about you?”

He knew why. He had just seen why. And that was just the tip of the iceberg on what your past had been.

“But-”

“I really don't want to hear it. It’s just going to be you saying bad things about yourself again.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose, and you couldn’t think of any denial or lie that he would believe. “You really need to learn to trust me, seashell. If you don’t want to go home or to work, I get it. But you’ve got to believe me when I say it. When I say nothing is going to happen to you.”

You reached up to dry your eyes again, all but running out of tears by now after the heavy cry session you had just had wrapped up in Rafayel’s arms. You let out a small hiccup, before offering him a small nod. It didn’t really matter if you believed him, but honestly- it was so much better than anything before. So much more comforting than any of the times before. Any of the times where you sat in your bedroom alone, praying that you could get one more extra day squeezed out of the week, out of going back to the university, to avoid seeing the man who had ruined your entire life as he ‘explored’ the ‘public’ campus like some sort of shark circling your bleeding body. 

Rafayel watched you as you slowly composed yourself, reaching out a hand to rest on your shoulder, tenderly. His kindness radiating from the contact. “Now, is it okay if we go somewhere? I think it would be better for you if you could go somewhere you can relax for a little while. I invited you to my studio, maybe we can go there.”

You blinked at him. When had he invited you?

He watched your expression, processing that you were confused on the ask. “Did you get the text I sent you? Or were you already in trouble then?”

“Text-” You pause, then you remember the notification that had popped up just before your ex had seen you. You shook your head. “It had just come through as he-... approached… me. I didn’t see what it said.”

He flashed you a small smile, one that would win every prize in your book. 

“It was asking you if you were already off work, and if not, would you want to meet me at the station, so that we could head to my studio and finish up some work I need to get done.” 

You stared at him for a moment, your mouth slightly agape, before you smiled back at him. It was timid, and you were still nervous. But with his hand against your shoulder as the two of you walked through the edges of Linkon City back towards one of his studios, you couldn’t help but feel just a little bit better. 

Just a little bit more at ease. 

—

And a week later, you were back at work. You had been for the last few days. You’d gone on a few missions, taken down a dozen Wanderers, and saved a few civilians in that time. But nowhere had you seen your ex- not on a street corner, not running down an alleyway, not even at the doorstep of the Hunter’s Association. 

But you’d seen Rafayel. 

One day he was sitting at the cafe across the street from the Association’s building, sketching charcoal as he invited you to come and get something to eat for lunch, to sit with him and talk about your day. Another, he was there when you got off, a light drizzle sprinkling the street as he offered to share his umbrella with you and walk you home. On your day off, he ended up at your door, huffing about his next exhibition, and whether or not you wanted to come with him to stave off the boredom he was surely going to be drowning in. You weren’t stupid, you knew what he was doing. But there was also no pattern to his appearances- sometimes you wouldn’t see him all day, only speaking to him through incessant texts and phone calls. Other times, you’d see him two or three or more times throughout your day. Something about the chaotic approach made you feel even more… comfortable. Despite everything that had happened. It felt like he was always around, even when you didn’t expect it. 

It felt like he was always keeping watch for you. 

And maybe you still hadn’t gotten over what had happened on the platform, and you still felt uneasy stepping on the train, arm hooked in Rafayel’s as he complained about not being able to find the green he needed to finish a piece. Maybe you still felt worthless, for still caring about what happened to that wretched man, after everything he had done to you, after all of the pain he had caused you. 

But at least, as you stared up at the splashes of color that coated the canvas in front of you, late after work the evening before your day off, sitting in Rafayel’s studio as he dozed off over a few cups of color he had been working on while you scrolled through your phone, you had someone. 

At least you had someone who was intent on changing everything for you. 

Who was intent on making sure you were okay. No matter what.

[baronessvonglitter]

Ready When You Are

husband!Marcus Pike x wife!Reader

Word count: 2K

Summary: you and your husband Marcus Pike can't stop thinking about trying for a baby...

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, fluff, established relationship, talk of having a baby, reader wears lingerie, breeding kink, pregnancy kink, playful rough/dirty talk, fingering, unprotected piv (actively trying to get preggo), if I missed anything please let me know!

Author's note: this is for @fluffygoffpanda I hope this scratches that itch! Jesus do you have good taste in men for this particular kink. PS I don't know what pink cloud punch is, but I can tell you that if you pour Sprite over rainbow sherbet it's sooo gooood!

MARCUS PIKE MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

It's one of those "modern" baby showers where men are guests, but inevitably drift to the den where a football game is on. The women mill about the kitchen and dining room, sampling dishes, gossiping, exchanging stories about their own pregnancies.

Marcus seemed more excited about the get-together than you were, and despite having migrated to the other room for the game, he keeps sneaking back to the kitchen, swiping a pinwheel sandwich, or a petits fours. You can tell he's half-listening to the little nuggets of advice being passed around, and watching the presents being opened, yellow and pink and blue tissue paper blanketing the floor. 

Your youngest sister looks resplendent in her flowy pink floral maternity dress, her hands continually resting on her bump, protective, almost queenly. "I'm so happy for you," you tell her for the hundredth time, kissing her cheek.

She smiles, sipping a frothy cup of pink cloud punch. "Sister, when's it going to be your turn?"

"For what?" Marcus asks, appearing behind you, enveloping you in his arms.

"For a baby," you answer him, giving him a little smile, a rosiness painting your cheeks. You've been married almost a year, and though you've both talked about eventually starting a family, you haven't chosen a time on when exactly to begin.

"No pressure," you sister says quickly. "It's a serious decision."

You are the last of your siblings to have a child. Even your older brother has twins in elementary school.

"We'll talk about it when you're ready," Marcus says, giving your hand a soft kiss.

You expect him to be the one to bring it up, to possibly goad you into talking about it, or at least planning what names you'd use. But he's seemingly forgotten about it on the drive home after the party, making dinner plans with friends for next weekend, and going to see your favorite band in town when they finally come there on tour.

It's not until the next morning that you bring it up over coffee at your favorite diner. 

"Would you want to start trying for a baby?"

Marcus stops, coffee cup halfway to his lips. Then he breaks into a grin, only resuming his poker face for only a moment to say: "I'm ready when you are."

You nod, letting the pieces fall together in your brain. There are unknowable factors, of course, but you wouldn't be alone, and you'd be having a child with the absolute love of your life.

"I'm ready. I want to have a baby with you."

The smile on Marcus's face could light up the entire Eastern Seaboard. He takes your hands across the table, leaning in for a kiss. "I'm so glad, because honestly I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since the baby shower yesterday," he admits a little sheepishly.

His enthusiasm is contagious, lifting your heart and erasing any doubts you had. "Do you think we're ready?" you have to ask.

"Babe," he says. "You're too perfect of a person to not be making the world better by adding a few more of you to it."

You sigh in mock exasperation. "How do you know exactly what to say?"

He chuckles, but his expression softens when he looks at you. "I'm in if you're in. I mean that."

Thinking about it takes up your entire day. You look up baby names, maternity wear, childbirth options, the best OBGYNs in the area. Then you go further, checking out the schools, wondering if you should trust public or go private. Then colleges. Which one is best for which degree?

Marcus thinks it's cute when you call him to tell him what you've been working on all day. "Sounds like you're really, really serious about this," he says.

"You'll be home soon?" you ask, checking your hair in the mirror one last time.

"I'm about five minutes away. Why?"

"I have a surprise for you. Drive safe."

Naturally Marcus has to restrain himself from speeding the next couple blocks to your home. Just as he's about to unlock the front door you open it, wearing a teddy in his favorite shade on you.

"Just in time," you purr, grabbing him inside by the collar.

"What's going on?" he smirks, happily led by you to the bedroom. 

"What do you think?" you smirk back. The bed is strewn with rose petals, and you perch yourself in the middle of it, an utter vision to Marcus's eyes. He follows you, led by a primal instinct to take you, to hold you and make you his.

"I didn't take my birth control pill today," you tell him. "In fact, I threw them all out."

His brows rise, heart skips a beat, mouth fills with saliva. "Why'd you do that?" he asks slowly, even though he already knows.

"Because tonight I want you to get me pregnant."

It's as if the air has been squeezed from his lungs. He tries to maintain composure, knowing you wouldn't tease him, nor would you take such a decision lightly. "You're sure, babe?"

You nod as his hand cups your chin, his thumb tracing your lower lip. "I want you to fill me up, over and over again tonight. I want to be dripping with your cum for days."

An image of him fucking you, his seed taking root, your belly swelling with his child, breasts getting fuller and sweet with milk, runs through his brain, tapping into the primal side of him. He whispers your name, grabs hold of you in a kiss, hands wandering under your teddy to caress your body, smoothing over your curves, cup your breasts.

You bring his hand to your cunt, already so moist and ready for him, giving a shuddering sigh as he works two fingers inside, jaw tensing when he feels how wet you are.

"Breed me, Marcus," you whisper, your breath tickling his ear. The hair on his arms and the back of his neck stands up. What am I still doing with my clothes on? he wonders, then is thankful that you've taken the initiative, relieving him of his jacket, his tie, belt, shirt, pants, and everything else. 

His cock pulses in your hand, his precum already dribbling over the top. Laying on your back, he scoots between your legs. "What about your work?"

"I'll work from home. Hell, I could even do advisor work until the kids are old enough for school," you say, wrapping your arms around him.

"Kids.. plural?" he grins. "How many?" His lips ghost across your ear, nibbling your lobe.

"Two," you sigh, running your hands down his back. "I don't want an odd number. I didn't like being the middle child."

He kisses your forehead, as if to take those memories away. "One boy and one girl?"

"Perfect," you sigh again, trailing your foot along his calf.

Desire and love fill his senses, make him your servant, all he can see and breathe is you. Imagining you getting big with his child, making a soul with him, creating a little legacy, even for the short amount of time you're both promised on this earth.. Marcus's heart feels like it shouldn't fit in his chest anymore.

You whimper his name. nudging your hips against his. He slips your teddy over your head, revealing your soft skin, the body he's come to worship night after night during the happiest time of his life. 

He captures your lips in another passionate kiss, tongue brushing against yours with fervor. Then he pins your arms over your head, spreads your thighs further apart. "You're so eager for it, so eager for me to cum inside you."

You shiver, not bothering to suppress a whimper. "I am, baby. I want it all.."

Fuck, you're not even teasing, not even pretending, not role playing.. Marcus's head is nearly spinning with his new reality. His head drops into your neck as he breathes in your scent, your shampoo and your own natural aroma, and of course the sweet and spicy essence of your pussy. He lifts his head to catch your gaze. "I love you," he utters as he slides into you.

"I love you," you gasp in return, letting yourself be helpless beneath his soft grip. He buries himself in you until his hips meet yours, and you can't tell where he ends and you begin. Your tightness has him reeling, his mind spinning with want.

"You feel so good, babe," he groans in your ear. He withdraws almost completely before pushing forward again, a shiver rolling through him at the sensation. He starts a slow, languid pace.

"Marcus," you moan, your hips undulating against his in the rhythmic dance. He squeezes your hip, loosening slightly on your wrists pinned over your head, but you keep them there, enjoying the illusion of being at his mercy, of being bred. 

His mouth trails kisses down your neck as pleasure thrums throughout your body. "You feel like heaven," he mutters, moving leisurely as he takes note of the sounds that leave your mouth with each forward thrust of his. 

"More.." you gasp, tilting your hips up to get him deeper, not wanting to miss out on a single inch. 

"You want more? You want me to spill all my cum into you, give you a baby?"

Biting your lip you moan his name as he increases the pace, thrusts steady and fast.  "Keep moaning my name," he whispers. "Scream for me.. let the neighbors know who's inside you, making you feel this good."

"Christ," you gasp, pressing your hands to the headboard, the sound of it banging against the wall exciting you. "Want everyone to know I'm yours.."

"That's it," he says, hearing your moans and sighs coming faster. "Almost there? I'm gonna cum but I want to get you there first, you gotta cum first, that's what I want." At the sound of your whimper he kisses you deeply, pulling your lower lip between his teeth before pushing his tongue in your mouth, seeking your own. He moans low as heat builds in his lower belly.

He's hitting a place inside you that sends flutters through your cunt, the pleasure rising and rising until it becomes a fever, a fucking force of nature that threatens to claim you. 

"Come, darling," he grunts, knowing your body, knowing you're on the edge with him. His hips quicken their work, the sound of your bodies colliding is almost obscene.

You come undone beneath him, squeezing around him rhythmically and his hand moves between you to tease your clit, helping you ride out your orgasm, his own hips slowing as he watches the pleasure wash over you.

"God, you're so beautiful," he says, his forehead against yours, your hot panting breaths fanning across his face. 

"Marcus," you beg. "Put a baby in me.."

Aftershocks still wrack your body as he thrusts again, and your still-sensitive body wants to come with him. He rubs your clit again, working you back up, waking your senses again. 

He's getting closer and closer to tipping over the edge with you. Mumbling words of love, of adoration, he feels his climax rising in his balls, the pressure building up further and further. Only when he feels you come again, convulsing hard around him, does he give a final, hard thrust before he follows you, coming deep inside you, shaking and shuddering. At last he groans your name, muffled in the crook of your neck as his mind goes blank for a heavenly minute.

It's several minutes before either of you speaks, the moment too precious, too beautiful to break with mere words. He slides off you, keeping you close, not wanting to lose your warmth right away.

"I love you," you murmur at last. "Maybe we made some magic tonight."

"Maybe," he chuckles, his heart overflowing with love for you. "If not, we can always keep trying." He cups your beautiful face in his hands. "I want a family with you if that's what's meant for us."

"I want that. A little family.."

He smirks, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. "Give me a few minutes, we can give it another try. Just to make sure."

dividers by @saradika-graphics 👑

[revelboo]

Who is your favorite Cybertronian to write for? If you don't mind me asking!

To write for? I think I’m having the most fun writing the Scavengers right now. I like dysfunctional group dynamics, but the Trine’s probably my second favorite group. For a single Cybertronian? Probably Wasp 😆

I’m so sorry for this- but I have weird ideas early in the morning and couldn’t help but think there’d be a reality out there where the war ended before it reached Earth. That maybe Earth gets discovered by Swindle and a few other opportunists. And he’d just be scooping up humans by the handfuls to sell as ‘pets/toys.’

18+

No Strings

Rainmakers x Reader

• “Nova’s just under a lot of stress lately and I’d heard that you-” Words faltering as Acid Storm follows Swindle into the back of the ship and his optics slide up to the video screens playing above the rows of cages. Wings flicking slightly at the sounds, the whimpers and moans. “Ah.” What was he saying? When he’d heard about Swindle’s operation, he’d laughed at first. Because it had sounded like a bad joke. But then he’d kept thinking about it. Gotten curious.

• “Nothing better for stress than a good frag,” Swindle says, grinning and gesturing to the row of cages. “And fragging is pretty much all these things do. Why they’re separated. They may take some breaking in and training, but I’ve got all the supplies you’ll need.” Turning to watch the Seeker bend to look into a cage, frowning when the human scoots to the far side. “They’re a bit skittish at first.” Why he’d paid Shockwave to synthesize him doses of what Swindle had affectionately dubbed Playtime. A little chemical pheromone, that when added to their water guaranteed not only cooperation, but enthusiasm. And a continued source of shanix after the initial sale as his buyers returned for more.

• “They look kind of like squishy, little Cybertronians,” Acid Storm mutters as he taps the front of a cage to send the little creature inside scurrying to the back, chattering at him. Is it speaking? “Are they sentient?” Drifting to the next cage, his wings flick. Keeps getting distracted by the vids.

• “Of course not. Smart enough to train, though.” Folding his arms behind his back, Swindle watches the Seeker wander around the room to inspect the pets. “That said, all sales are final and no sampling the merchandise.”

• Stopping at a cage with a pet curled into a back corner, he taps the door. Frightened eyes lift to stare at him, but you’re not leaking like some of the pets at least or screaming. Seem docile enough as you turn your little face away, hair brushing your shoulder. Submissive might be fun. “Can I see this one?”

• They’re back. When the monstrous robots show up, someone gets taken away. And they’d stopped in front of your cage. When you’d woken up confused and frightened here, you’d tried to talk to the guy in the cage beside yours only to realize you couldn’t understand each other. Hadn’t been able to yell loud enough over the damn porn looping on the screens to be heard by anyone who spoke your language either. And the robot acting as caretaker either can’t understand you or doesn’t care. When the familiar one opens your cage door, you make a doomed attempt to avoid that big hand and cry out when you get pinned to the side of the cage and grabbed anyway. As they talk about you in their growling, alien gibberish, you try to wriggle free before realizing how high up you are. Don’t know what they want with you, but given the porn? You’re have a pretty good idea and you sincerely hope you’re wrong. Because there’s no way you’re meant for that with these giants.

• Venting softly as Swindle lifts you free and places you in his hands, Acid Storm can feel the rapid beat of your heart against his servos as he strokes soft skin. And you go still and docile in his grip, breathing rapidly. Afraid or cold? You’re shivering against him. Running a servo up your frame to tip your chin his way, you grab on with both tiny hands. Head lifting from those pretty eyes when Swindle brings over a little harness and carefully puts in on you, attaching a length of leash. “That’s too short,” he says and Swindle just grins.

• “Not when you’re mass displaced. Trust me, you’ll want it for training them to take a spike.” Filling a crate with food, water, and blankets, he holds up the bottle of Playtime. “Before you try to frag them, dose them. Just make sure not to exceed the recommended dosage.” Otherwise their little hearts can stop, but he keeps that to himself, seeing the Seeker already frowning. “They can be a bit skittish the first time. You’ll want this.”

• Frowning as Swindle adds the tiny bottle to your supplies, he runs a servo over you and glances up at the screens. “How much for the pet?”

Next

[xxspringmelodyxx]

Why Her and Not Me?

Gojo Satoru x F!Reader (Angst)

I’m back with the angst everyone! I think I am planning on making this a multiple series…because I have a few ideas! Please let me know what you all think! I love hearing from you :) Anyways, onto the story!

Part II

I stared in the oven, watching the strawberry cake slowly come to a rise. I looked at the time and saw that there were only 10 minutes left before I could take it out, so I took this opportunity to start filling my mochi. I grabbed the rice dough and flattened it out, grabbing my freshly made whipped cream and Zunda.

I loaded up the dough with zunda, adding the whipped cream right after. Carefully, I folded the dough up into a cute little ball, setting it down on a plate next to me. One by one, I arranged them in a neat row on the plate, their green pastel colors and smooth surfaces creating an inviting display that begged to be sampled.

There were exactly 10 balls, all for a special someone.

Just as you finished, you heard the back door of your shop open up. You looked over to see Utahime. I smiled in her direction, greeting her.

”Hey Hime! What brings you here?” You asked, hearing the ding of your oven go off.

“I wanted to see if that idiot was over here bugging you.” She said, looking around for Toru. I smiled softly at the mention of his name, seeing her give me a look of disgust.

”Ugh, out of all the boys you could have fallen for, why did it have to be him? Can’t I persuade you to fall in love with someone else? Literally anyone else.” She said, looking at all the sweets I made. I turned the oven off, grabbing the cake and placing it on the counter to cool off.

“Oh come on, Hime. He’s not that bad. He’s actually very sweet once you get past his cocky facade." I defended, my voice softening as I thought about the moments of genuine kindness I had witnessed from him.

”Are you sure we’re talking about the same Gojo Satoru?” She asked, grabbing a cupcake from the plate.

”Cut him some slack, Hime. Hes got so much pressure on him, it only makes sense for him to act the way he does. I know I would’ve gone absolutely insane if I were in his position.” You said, snatching the cupcake from her hand as she was about to eat it.

”Hey! I wanted to eat that.” She whined, making you roll your eyes at her.

”these are for my customers.” You said, placing the cupcake back on the plate.

“Besides, I already made a plate for you next to the fridge.” You said with a smile, placing the cupcakes in a box for pickup. Hime looked over to the fridge to see a pile of various treats, making her eyes sparkle and mouth salivate.

”Y/n, you are literally the best person in the whole wide world!” She said, grabbing a strawberry muffin.

“I know.” You said, going back to check on your cake.

As Hime stuffed her face with the muffin, she looked over to see the kikufuku neatly displayed on a plate.

“Y/n, when are you going to ask him?” She said with her mouth stuffed. You looked over to her with a confused face.

”What are you talking about?”

Now it was her turn to roll her eyes.

”Oh come on, Y/n. When are you going to finally confess your feelings to Gojo??”

You looked back down at your cake, a frown making its way to your face.

”I…I don’t know, Hime.” You said.

”If you don’t do it soon, it could be too late. Y/n, I am only telling you this because I know how much you love Gojo…even though I find it hard to believe that a sweet girl such as yourself finds someone like him irresistible.” She said, walking up to you. She placed a hand on your shoulder, making you face her.

”What if…what if he doesn’t see me that way? What if I confess to him, only for him to reject me and ruin our friendship? I don’t want that…” You said, looking into her eyes.

She scoffed.

”If Gojo doesn’t see how lucky he is to have someone like you fall in love with him, he’s more of an idiot than I thought.” She said, trying to hype you up.

”You two are inseparable. I swear, anytime I see Gojo without you, its like his whole day is ruined. But the moment you show up, its as if he saw a miracle appear right before his eyes. You quite literally make his day better, Y/n.” She said sternly.

”You really think so?” You asked, starting to feel hopeful.

“Absolutely! There is no way anyone could deny that. Honestly, its kind of sickening how cute you two are together. It almost makes me jealous because you're my best friend.” She said, making you laugh.

”Hime, I never you took you as the jealous type~” You teased, making her smirk.

”Shut up. All I am saying is when you two do become a couple, you better still make time for me. I don’t care if Gojo gets mad, I will steal you away if you don’t hang out with me for a long time.” She said

”you’re starting to sound like Shoko, now. She told me the same thing not too long ago” You snorted.

”well she’s right. We had you first. Gojo was the last to have you, so by common knowledge, your besties get your time first before him.” She said, making you smile at her.

”Oh, Hime. If Toru and I do actually become a thing, I promise you I will never abandon you two. Honestly, if it weren't for you girls, I would have never gotten this close to Toru. After all, chicks before dicks.” You joked, copying what Shoko said the other day.

She chuckled, hearing the back door open once more.

”Sup bitches.” Shoko said, making you both shake your heads at her.

”Nice of you to show up, Shoko. Y/n is about to confess to Gojo of her undying love for him.” Hime teased,making you tense up.

”What?! When did I say that?!” You asked, whipping your head around towards the two of them.

”Fina-fucking-Lly. It’s been like five years and you two still haven’t gotten anywhere. I feel like I’m going insane just watching the two of you, especially with the sexual tension going on between you two.” Shoko said, making your face heat up.

”S-Shut up Shoko! You have no idea what you are talking about.”

”So how are you going to confess to him?” She asked, smirking at your face.

”Easy, she is going to go straight up to him with the kikufuku in her hands and look him I straight in the eyes. Then, she will hold onto him desperately and confess her love for him.” Hime said, teasing you a bit.

”Oh, Toru~ I love you so much I can’t think straight! I need you so bad in my life~” Shoko continued, mimicking your voice.

”Then come here baby and lets make love alllll night~” Hime said with a deepened voice, mimicking Toru.

”I do not sound like that, Shoko.” You said, making them both laugh.

“Plus…a part of me still has a bad feeling. I don’t know if he thinks of me that way.” You said, your grip on the counter tightening.

Shoko and Hime suddenly stopped and walked towards you.

”Hey, look at me.” Shoko said, forcing you to look in her direction.

”It’s going to be alright. I already told you last time, there is no way he thinks of you as just a friend. He literally talks about you all the time that even I get tired of hearing about you.” She said.

”Yeah, and the way his eyes light up even more just by the simple mention of your name? Its so obvious he likes you.” Hime followed.

”But…maybe that is just him being…well himself.” You said, trying to come up with excuses.

”Y/n, there is no doubt in my mind that he is head over heels for you just as you are for him.” Shoko responded.

Suddenly, you heard the bell ring from the main entrance of your bakery shop.

”Y/n! Come out here, I need to ask you something.” You heard a familiar voice yell. You felt your heart race at the sound of his warm voice. Your body tensed up even more as you felt your body basically freeze.

”What are you waiting for!?” Shoko asked. Hime grabbed the Mochi you made for Toru and placed them in your hands.

“Go out there and tell him! This is the perfect chance!” They both saiid, pushing you out to the front.

You tried to go back in, but they locked the door, forcing you to stay out there.

“Y/n?” You heard his voice once more, making you freeze again.

“Is everything alright?” He asked, one of his eyebrows rising.

You slowly turned around, finally coming face to face with the tall white haired man.

He looked down at you, his confused face slowly turning into one of happiness as he saw the kikufuku in your hands.

”Is that…what I think it is?” He asked, almost salivating at the sight of it. He loved your baking, no matter what it was. But when you made him his favorite snack, it was something different.

”Uh, yeah! I did. I figured you’d want some since it had been a while since the last time I made it.” You said, walking around the counter, making your way towards him.

You placed the dish in his hands, feeling his fingers brush against yours. You quickly pulled your hands back, almost dropping the dish. Thankfully, Toru had quick reactions and caught it before it fell.

”woah there, no need to be so nervous! You know I love your baking!” He said, instantly stuffing his mouth with one of the mochi balls.

”Mmmm. They are perfect! You even made them with the perfect amount of filling!” He said, making your heart flutter at his reaction.

”I remember you complaining about another shop putting too much in. I wanted to make sure it was just right for you.” You said sheepishly.

”You mean you actually listened to me?” He asked, chuckling at you.

”Of course. I do actually care about what you say, you know.” You replied, looking up at him.

”Oh I’m touched.” He teased, setting the plate down on a nearby table.

“So what was it that you wanted to ask me?” You asked

Suddenly, his whole demeanor changed after you asked. It was weird.

He looked down at you and fidgeted with his hands, making you look up at him with concern.

”Toru?”

“Y/n…do you know what it feels like to…love someone?” He asked, making you blink your eyes up at him.

”Well…I mean…yes…yes I do.” You said, making him look you in the eyes.

”Then maybe you can help me.” he said, making you look up at him confused.

”help you?”

He sat down at the table near him, you following suit.

”There is…this girl. And every time I am around her, I feel nervous. It’s like my hands get clammy and I feel my heart skip a beat just from the mention of her name.” He said.

After he said that, you started to feel your heart race again, heat rising to your face. Was he…was he talking about you?

”Just looking at her makes me feel all tingly inside…and I always long to be around her…” He finished.

”Is…is that what it feels like to…be in love? Feeling like you want to be around that person all the time? Feeling excited every day because you get to see them?” He asked, making you smile a bit. You nodded your head.

”Yes…it is. At least, to me it is. After all, that’s how I feel about y-“ You started, but quickly shut up, not ready to confess to him just yet.

“Hmmm.” He said, lost in thought.

”Toru? Are you okay?” You asked, feeling hopeful. He looked deep into your eyes and a small smile slowly formed.

”Yeah…I am. I…I never thought it possible, but I think I may have feelings for her.” He said, mumbling a bit.

”Oh?” You asked, hoping this was the part where he confessed everything to you.

”You remember Osaka? The girl who just moved here and joined us?” He began, making you come out of your senses. Osaka moved in from a small village hundreds of miles from here. It had been almost a year since then and it was needless to say that her and Toru hit it off really well…but you figured it was just him being nice to her…

”Yes…why?” You asked, not liking where this was going.

”Well…because I think…I think I might like her…” He said, a small smile making its way towards his face. However, while he was thinking of Osaka and feeling his heart beat faster, you felt yours shatter.

“You…like…Osaka?” You asked, tears starting to fill up in your eyes. He looked up at you, not noticing the water beginning to form in your eyes.

”I…I think so…no. I know so! I mean, just hearing her voice…it makes me crazy. I’ve never felt this way before. It feels…nice.” He said, getting lost in his mind.

”I see.” You said, swallowing hard. It hurt so bad. It felt as if you were swallowing nails and sharp razors down.

”I think I am gonna go and talk to her…see what she says.” He said, confidence filling up inside of him.

”T-talk to her about what?” You asked, your voice breaking a bit.

”Talk to her about how I feel, silly. I mean, I’m pretty sure she feels the same way. I don’t think anyone could love me as much as she does.” He said.

”I do…” You thought as he said those words. He quickly got up, pride and excitement filling up inside of him.

”I’m gonna go do it! I’m gonna go tell her everything. tell her how I feel for her! How much I long for her!” He said, quickly leaving.

“Thanks for the talk, Y/n! You really are a good friend!” He said, quickly leaving. You just sat there, staring at the plate of Kikufuku you made for him. Tears piled up in your eyes and you couldn’t hold it back anymore. You quickly got up and ran to the back, letting it all out. Shoko and Hime ran towards you and caught you in their arms as you fell towards them.

”Y/n! What happened?” Shoko asked with worry.

”I knew it…I was such an idiot for thinking he would ever love me.” You sobbed quietly.

”W-What?” Hime asked, confused.

”He…He doesn’’t…He doesn’t…fuck!” You whispered as you felt yourself begin to hyperventilate

“Breathe, Y/n. Hey look at me. Breathe.” Shoko said, breathing in and out with you, trying to get you under control.

After a few minutes of that, you were able to get yourself under control…however, you still felt awful. You felt like life just got sucked out of you. Shoko and Hime were by your side the entire time, hugging you as you calmed down.

”He…He said he fell in love…but with someone else.” You whispered, broken from the memory replaying in your head.

”Who?” Hime asked, baffled that Toru would pick someone else over you.

”Osaka…”

”Osaka?? You mean that new girl who just joined us?? There is no way-“

”It’s true, Shoko. You think I would make something like that up??” You asked, staring at her through your watery eyes.

”Y/n…I am so sorry.” Hime said, completely in disbelief.

”I didn’t think he would be that much of an idiot.” She said, hugging you tightly.

“I can’t believe it…he constantly talks about you during our missions. It doesn't make any sense.” Shoko said, hugging you as well.

”And he constantly flirted around with you, too!” Hime said.

You were completely heartbroken, feeling nothing but emptiness. However, Shoko and Hime were livid. Satoru Gojo had hurt their best friend…and what worse is he was totally leading her on!

“Come on.” Shoko said, pulling you up to your feet.

Hime went out to the front and closed the shop early.

”What are you doing?” You asked softly.

”We are all going out. We need to get your mind off of he who shall not be named.” Shoko said, turning everything off in the kitchen and bringing you your jacket.

”I don’t know Shoko. I’d rather just go home.” You said.

”That’s okay. We can go to my place and just hang out. We can have a girls night and watch movies, eat all sorts of food, all that fun stuff!” She suggested. However, you shook your head. You pushed yourself away from her, grabbing your keys.

”No Shoko…I…I just need to be alone…please.” You said, not wanting to argue. Shoko looked at you with worry. She didn’t want to leave you alone, not like this especially.

”Y/n, we-“

”Please, Shoko. I need you to understand…I…I need to be alone for right now.” You spoke, opening the back door and walking out.

Shoko tried to go after you, but she stopped in her footsteps. She knew you wanted to be alone, but she didn't want to leave you alone. But she also knew that you needed it to collect your own thoughts.

Hime came back and asked Shoko where you went. She explained everything and Hime understood.

”Let’s give her a couple of hours, then we will go to her place.” She suggested, making Shoko nod.

——

You drove towards you house, tears falling down your eyes as quiet sobs slipped from your mouth. You never imagined heartbreak could be this bad…you never imagined the day where you would get your heart absolutely crushed. It hurt so much to the point where you felt pains in your chest. It stung so bad, almost like someone was snipping each string in your heart.

thoughts of Toru and Osaka began to pop up in your head, along with questions.

What did she have that you didn’t? Was it her face? Her hair? Her personality? Her strength? Her charisma? What was it??

All of these questions rushed through your head, yet you could never come up with a proper answer…not unless you asked Toru himself…though that was the last thing you wanted to do. For the first time in your life, you found yourself wanting nothing to do with him. You didn’t want to hear his name, his voice, nor did you want to see him. It would just hurt too much.

You noticed the weather beginning to change. Clouds began to circle above you, getting ready to start dropping rain.

Damn it!

You tried to get your emotions under control, but no matter what you did, the tears wouldn’t stop. The heartache wouldn’t stop.

You knew you couldn’t do anything about it, thus rain began to fall…and hard.

———-

You finally made it back to your house. You quickly ran inside and ran to your bedroom. You flopped onto your bed and let it all go.

The rain outside just fell harder and faster, causing people to rush either to their cars or back to their homes.

Your puppy ran up to you and began to lick your face, noticing something was wrong.

You looked down at him, seeing him look up at you with a tilted head.

You patted your bed, inviting him to come cuddle with you.

He snuck his way under your arm, snuggling up to you. You began to hold onto him tightly. The warmth and softness of his fur felt good against your skin, causing you to slowly drift away to sleep.

though, while you felt yourself succumb to the sleepiness, one thing lingered in your mind as you closed your eyes.

”Why her…and not me…”

_____________________

Part II??

Taglist?

[reiderwriter]

You'd Be Like Heaven To Touch♣️

Pairing: Spencer Reid X Female Reader

Word count: 2.2k

Summary: After a whirlwind weekend, you're finally ready to go home and deal with the mess you created in Vegas. But you just cannot get your new Husband out of your head.

Warnings: Oral sex (F receiving), fingering, vaginal sex, no mention of birth control, and you're going to hate me by the end of this sex scene bye

A/N: They're officially out of Vegas! I'm so excited to share the next few parts with you guys, and we finally got our first taste of smut!! Also, the Reid in the gif is the exact one I'm picturing in this scene so yeah 🤡 smirk and all 😏

Here's the series masterlist, and my general masterlist!~

Prev. Chapter // Next Chapter

The race back to the hotel was easy compared to the ensuing rush to pack up an entire hotel room's worth of mess in the time between their arrival and their check-out time. Sure, they’d had to pack light as travelling FBI agents, but with the added mess you’d created in Spencer’s room, and the additional luggage of their marriage licence, the packing was needlessly more frantic than usual. 

When you finally did make it down to the lobby, you froze up a little, realising that you were the final one to exit your room. You watched as seven pairs of eyes shifted to you as soon as the elevator door opened, hauling your go-bag further up your arm from where it was slipping down. You thanked your past self for having the foresight to put some makeup into the bag, having used up a copious amount of your concealer to cover up any evidence of your night with Reid. You still kept a small distance from the others, just in case.

“Sorry, were you all waiting for me?” you smiled at them as you got closer, hoping that they’d not ask questions at what had taken you so long. Your eyes caught Reid’s and you could see that he was looking down at your neck. 

After an entire day morning and night in your company, you knew he’d seen the results of his handiwork. You wondered if the look that raked over you now was that of the dominant Reid from the night before, who you presumed marked you in such prominent places so people would know you were his, or that of the concerned team mate, who didn’t want to be caught and questioned by the others. You tried to shake both images from your head, not sure which would please you more. 

“It’s okay, you’re not late, the cars are being bought around now and the jet leaves in 30,” Hotch greeted you when you finally got close enough. 

“Late night, mama?” Morgan laughed at you as soon as he turned to you. “How did all that drinking last night go for you?” 

You were so wrapped up in Reid and what he may or may not be thinking that you had to pull yourself back to reality for a second to realise that Morgan had been talking to you. 

“What? Oh yeah, I guess. I don’t think I drank too much, but I did sleep like a baby, so who knows.” You laughed a little to punctuate the point, and then watched Morgan’s reaction closely. You were still looking for the two “agents” who had been witness to your marriage, after all. 

“Ooh, you didn’t sample the local goods last night then? I’ve heard that Downtown Las Vegas is the best place to meet single men, and you were just complaining that you hadn’t been out in a while,” Penelope said from beside the man. 

“No, no, the place Reid took me to was more library than bar, and as far from Downtown as you could get, so it was a nice and easy night for me.” 

“And if the local men are anything like our resident Las Vegan,” Emily jumped in, looking at Reid. “Then I’m sure they’re not really what Y/N is looking for.” She laughed and they all start making their way out of the lobby. 

You try to avoid meeting Reid’s eyes after that last comment, sure that you wouldn’t be able to stop the grimace of apology from coming to your lips. But you couldn’t help yourself, and you forced your eyes up into a small peak at his face, only to see his downturned eyes and the small smirk that was crossing his lips. 

You hung back for a second, needing to clue this out, and nudged him with your elbow. 

“What’s that look for?” you whisper at him in a harsh tone, hoping that no one was watching the two of you. 

“It’s nothing.” He says, but the smile stays on his lips. You give him another look, silently communicating that you’re not taking that first answer and he nods a little as he walks beside you. 

“If they could see the marks on your neck, they wouldn’t be thinking that I’m not what you’re looking for, right?” You could feel the heat in your cheeks, and you playfully whacked him in the arm a bit, before pushing through the doors of the hotel and feeling the sun on your cheeks once again. 

You watched him climb into the car you took earlier and stop yourself from following him. You were going to need some time to think about how you should take that last comment, and a half an hour drive outside of his presence would probably do you good. Climbing up into the other SUV, you take a deep breath, feeling all the restlessness of the night before creep up on you.

–X–

You don’t know where you are, but you know that you’re burning up under his touch. His lips are on your skin, working their way down from your neck to the valley between your breasts and all you can hear is the sound of your own lustful moans as his hands trail further still. 

You don’t know who it is on top of you, but you know that you’re dying for him to be there, to push his tongue into your mouth and make you submit to his will. His fingers wrap around the waistband of your panties and roughly pull them down, opening you up to him. You feel his lips ghost down further still, until he’s there between your legs. 

“Is this where you wanted me, baby? So desperate to have me, my little slut.” His words send another shiver down your spine as you roll your hips up into his face again. 

He lets out a small chuckle and gives you what you want, finally lowering his tongue again and letting it meet your desperate cunt. He sets his attention on your clit, and your eyes roll back in bliss, not caring who it is between your legs giving you this much pleasure, just desperate for them to keep going. 

“Don’t stop, please, don’t stop,” you beg, fisting a handful of your mystery man’s hair. It’s soft to the touch, a little curly at the ends and it feels familiar, but you’re unable to think about it for more than a second before he’s pushing a finger into you. 

“That’s it baby. Look at you, so fucking tight around my finger. You want me to push my cock into you, you’re going to have to relax for me baby, okay?” You still don’t know who it is, but you nod for him, knowing you want nothing except everything he’s telling you that you want. 

He’s thrusting his fingers into you at a relentless pace now, adding one digit every few thrusts, until he’s up to three. His face is still buried in your pussy, tongue still flicking against your clit, his other hand pushing you down by the hips as he forces you closer and closer to the edge. 

His hand drops down to your thigh, pushing your legs further apart, and it stays there feeling overly warm, almost burning you up from just that simple touch. 

“You’re so wet for me baby, going to take my cock now?” You whimper and nod your head as fervently as you can, begging him with your eyes to push into you. He finally pulls his head up to your own, and you’re finally face-to-face with your mystery man. 

“So wet for me, right baby? So wet for your husband?” Spencer questions you as he pushes into your wet, dripping hole, and you’re so surprised that all you can do in response is moan. 

With each thrust, he drops a moan into your ears, and you feel your climax building quickly. 

“Ah fuck yes, Y/N,” you claw at his back, desperate to pull him closer. 

“Spencer, don’t stop, fuck.” Your name begins dropping from his lips like a prayer as his thrusts get sloppier, wetter, deeper. 

“Y/N… Y/N……… Y/N….” 

–X– 

“Y/N, are you finally awake? We’ve been calling your name for a minute now.” Your eyes snap open and you come face to face with Emily and JJ from the seats opposite you on the jet. 

“We thought you might be having a nightmare. Want to talk about it?” JJ asks, her voice in a hushed tone as a look of sympathy crosses over her face. 

Whatever that was, it certainly was not a nightmare. But the scenario you were in now certainly was. 

“What? Oh, yeah. I don’t know, maybe it was a nightmare.” You desperately hope you sound convincing enough for them to drop the subject. The last time you’d mentioned a lack of sleep, half of the team had approached you with different home remedies and tips for getting your full 8 hours. The last thing you needed right now was the constant reminder that you’d just had a sex dream about Spencer Reid on the jet whilst surrounded by all your close friends and colleagues. 

Including the man himself, you realised, as you stretched your neck out from its awkward sleep position, and caught the sight of him there next to you. Your car had reached the jet first earlier that day, and it had taken all of two minutes after boarding before you’d been claimed by sleep, so you hadn’t realised he’d positioned himself next to you. 

A quick glance down had told you he’d done more than that. Wrapped around your legs, and so big that it stretched over his too, was a large blanket, the one that he usually used on your longer trips home. He was asleep in the seat next to you, you noticed after an embarrassing amount of time, head resting in one of his hands, lips slightly open, looking the image of tranquillity. 

His other hand was beneath the blanket, somewhere you couldn’t see, but as you shifted slightly in your chair trying to get comfortable again, you realised it was definitely somewhere you could feel. His hand had somehow fallen into your lap, and he had a firm but sleepy grip on your left thigh, the one closest to him. Now that you had moved, so did his hand, rubbing gentle strokes into your skin every few minutes. Slow enough that you were sure he was still asleep, but still enough to have am effect.

His hand was hot against your leg, and his touch burned. You remembered the sensation from your dream and immediately did your best to temper your facial expressions, not wanting to gather any more concern from the two women opposite you at the table than you already had. 

“Y/N? If you want to talk about it, we’re always here you know? This job can be overwhelming at the best of times, and we just worked a hard case. No one would blame you for needing to take some time for yourself.” Emily looked at you in concern now, and it was taking all of your will to keep your eyes on her, and nod at the appropriate time, your brain short-circuiting now that you realised Reid was so close. 

Where did this sudden infatuation with him come from? You’d always appreciated that he was a good looking guy, but you’d never thought about him so thoroughly before, and certainly not enough to lose yourself on the jet to inappropriate thoughts. 

It was the insanity of the weekend, you told yourself, it had to be. You’d learnt more about him and accidentally, possibly, maybe slept together, and now your body was just getting it out of your system. Either that or you’d just learnt too much about his preferences and your brain was just trying to come to terms with each revelation. 

You settled back into comfortable conversation with Emily and JJ, trying your best to convince yourself that your dream had meant nothing, blocking out any noise in your head that was suggesting otherwise. 

Especially the little thought at the back of your brain that was reminding you that you hadn’t removed his hand from your thigh, and that you really didn’t want to. 

🏷️@w-windyy @multifandom-on-the-side @reidandhotchsgirl @babybluecakes @bluecandycake @hugyourlungs @prentissesredtanktop @reidscaffeine @bethanyhaas01 @average-sunflower @academiareid @sailortongue @lover-of-books-and-tea @star0055 @daddy-dotcom @zaapsite @high-functioning-cosplayer @anniewhalelover @abbyshmaby @isabel-ffl-xoxo @sujan39 @frxcless @bluestuesday @busy-buzzing @breadbrobin @maxinehufflepuffprincess @l0v3cam @booksandwonderlands @myescapefromthislife @kat453 @ferrjulie @scoobydoopoo @kapeyama @aelinismyqueen @littlesingingbean @xohoneybun @anchovy89freya @jamiemuscatosslut @sharkcat1928 @dysphoricsanity @alyssaxstan @ghostheartbeat @beguiling3lavender @Casss2111 @zada-quinn @zatannas-wand @rebloggiest-reblogger @wishyoudaskme @imawhoreforu @kspencer34 @academiacoffeelover

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[redflagshipwriter]

Halfa Cass Ch 10 part 1

masterpost

“Tyranny!” Damian bellowed. His little face was red with fury.

Cass crossed her arms and nodded agreement. She was not accepting any more changes to her life at this time. Things were already happening, too much.

“Nevertheless,” said cruel Batdad. “The pediatric nutritionist will be here tomorrow.” He was trying very hard to seem composed and unaffected by their upset. But he was affected. So affected. And yet he persisted on traveling down the wrong path.

Cass hissed.

Their natural ally, Alfred, put his nose up a little as he cleared the dinner dishes. He sniffed as he left, unhappy-stiff. Cass did not know how he had been defeated. Food was his domain, not some interloper with a pathetic weepy Doctorate of nutritional sciences.

“He designs the meal plans for child Olympians,” Batdad coaxed. He wanted them to like him soooo much. “Standard advice is not necessarily very useful for extreme athletes. You might feel better afterwards. Wouldn’t that be nice?” Gentle, gentle, pleading.

No!!!

Damian stabbed his fork upright into his cinnamon roll and pointed an index finger at their tormentor. “I will not submit. I consume an adequately varied and nutritious diet. Whatever your true aims are, I will not be moved.”

Cass scarfed down her own dessert messily, scowling at Batdad the whole time as if to say: come and take it from me. Can you? You can’t.

Duke watched this with clever eyes darting between Batdad and his siblings. His body said: I don’t care. But I won’t pick Bruce publicly. What can I get? Can I make trouble? 

Hmm. Cass didn’t like that. She narrowed her eyes at him. He should philosophically agree with their cause. She was going to crawl under his bed and hiss, scary sounds to wake him up and go BOO. 

She made a mental note to do that before patrol tonight. If she could even fit it in, jeeze.

Ugh. So busy. Always so much to do.

The tension was high when they trooped to the cave for briefing, before Duke went to bed and everyone else took their pre-patrol nap. Cass lingered sullenly because she wanted to hear Duke’s report on the mechanic. Jacqueline’s apartment had been sneakily snuck through. The conclusion?

“There’s a lot of work clothes in the apartment, but no tools or anything like that. No references or books, aside from a couple of ones from the university library.” Duke fidgeted, micromovement. Not an interesting report. Not an enjoyable detour. “There’s no indication as to what she’s been working on. I took DNA samples off some dirty dishes and hair off the sofa. They’re filed for processing.”

Disappointing. The next step was unclear. Cass frowned. Should they try to observe again? Wait for Jacqueline to leave her lair and follow? Perhaps they should enter the apartment and lurk, ask questions. Tell her: We know your criminal associations. Stop it. Stop it, Jacqueline.

Damian stuck his lips out. He would say: This is not a pout, Cain.

It was a pout.

“I see.” Timbird took notes, fingers flying. Tap tap tap. “You’re passing the case back?”

“It’s all yours,” he said, nodding to Damian. Babybat nodded solemnly. My responsibility. He looked at her. Cass nodded: I have your bat-back. Let’s creep on Jacqueline, as a family.

Hmm. It was too quiet. Usually, there was Batdad commentary. She snuck a look at him even though she and Damian were ignoring him for his cruelties.

Batdad was pondering. He was paying enough attention, but his mind was on something else. Hmm. Cass prodded him. “Ah- Tim, did you upload your conclusions about the Amity Park case?”

Oh. Cass kept her body still, letting it say: I’m bored, I don’t care.

Timbird sighed and ruffled his hair. The gel made a little crackle sound. “It’s a massive government coverup,” he said. Unhappy. “I think a few residents fled, but it looks like it was a mass murder of the residents. The tank tracks came from a subdivision called the GIW, which is ridiculously over militarized.” He opened a file on one of the many Batcomputer screens. It showed a complex of buildings, taken from above. Superboy photography? “They’re doing weapons development, and it appears to be based on the designs of local scientists, also missing.”

“These scientists were affiliated with the GIW?” Batdad asked.

Tim shrugged. “Unclear.” His mouth twitched, unhappy. “There’s evidence of some collaboration, but it seemed a relatively normal exchange of information. Now, the GIW appears to have all their patented inventions and is replicating them.”

“So either these scientists are on staff or they have been removed,” Damibat scowled. A grumpy line formed between his eyebrows. So cute. 

“Removed?” Duke repeated, amused.

“From this mortal coil,” Damibat repeated. Impatient. Keep up, Thomas.  Haha. Cass sniggered and stuck her tongue out. Yeah. Keep up, Duke.

[thebestandworstdayofjune]

Hii ignore this if you don't want to do it ! But I was hoping something like logan regretting saying/doing something that hurt the reader and him trying to win her over (maybe after the events of deadpool and wolverine) THANKYOUUUU💖

Hi!! Thank you so much for your request! I started writing it and it got a little away from me. The full thing should be ready tomorrow or the next day, but I wanted to give you a little sample in the meantime! For context, reader owns a flower shop down the street from Wade and Al’s (and now Logan’s, I guess) apartment. He said something that he meant as a compliment that reader took as an insult and he is bad at groveling. Hope you enjoy! (Also if anyone would like to be tagged in the finished fic, please feel free to reply to this post!)

You hated to admit it, but the image of him standing in the middle of your showroom, shoulders slumped with of the most regretful looks you’d ever seen on anyone was enough for you to forgive him on sight. But, he didn’t have to know that. “Who else did you piss off?” You asked, arranging a few more pieces of greenery into the bouquet he had requested. Even if you were frustrated and moody, you couldn’t bring yourself to make something you weren’t proud of. “Don’t know that there’s anyone else I would care to apologize to with flowers, sweetheart.” You froze, not only at the pet name, which was new. But at the implication as well.

“Are you telling me that you waltzed in here and asked me to make my own apology flowers?” If you hadn’t already decided he was off the hook, the way his mouth turned down into a little pout would have sealed the deal. He hesitates for a few moments, eyes glancing around the shop seemingly in search of an answer. “Didn’t want to give the business to someone else.” He shrugged, bashfully, tucking his hands into his pockets.

Against your better judgement, a few giggles slipped past your lips, which had been firmly pressed together. A few more, and then you were laughing so hard you were having trouble breathing. Your hand clutched at your chest, flowers forgotten on your workbench. “I can’t believe this,” you gasped, wiping a few tears away that had spilled onto your cheeks. You grinned through the tears, moving around the table to stand in front of him.

“Could have been worse,” he shrugged, mischief making his eyes sparkle. “Could have gone with Wade’s suggestion.”

edit: find the full fic here!

[corralinesage]

Child of September (5/?)

Shoutout to @loveisanimaginarydagger3000 for buying the sexiest blanket in the world and giving me the inspiration for this oneshot ;) <3

18+ SMUT WARNING, MATURE

5. Payback's a bitch

“What do you think about this?” You brought a small, square card to Natasha’s nose, giving her a chance to smell the fragrance you had just sprayed on a thin piece of cardboard. 

“Darling, the perfume is for you”, she said softly, giving you a small smile. “You can choose whatever you want”, she reminded you, her brow arching at the sharp scent. The perfume she had gifted you a year ago had run out, and as much as you loved the scent, you felt like venturing out more and trying something new. 

“Yes, but I want you to like it.” You were already looking at a new bottle of perfume among the long row of them, clearly not impressed by the sample you had given to Natasha. 

“I’ll like anything you choose”, she reasoned, earning an annoyed look from you. 

“No, you won’t.” You knew for certain that Natasha was someone who appreciated a good perfume. She was by no means indifferent about smells. When you smelled good, it brought her to you like a moth to a flame. It made her cling to you in a whole different way. You could always tell the difference. 

“Fine, let me smell that one”, she relented, receiving another piece of cardboard to smell. You had been at the mall for quite some time that afternoon. Natasha had met up with you after classes to come shopping with you for some essentials that you had been meaning to get all fall. You had gotten yourself some makeup products, missing art supplies, and finally gone sniffing perfumes to find one that you could possibly take home with you. She took a shallow whiff of the next scent, not all that keen on switching up what had become your signature scent over the past year. It reminded her of how you had met and how you had made her feel at the time. She couldn’t imagine finding a new, equally good perfume, let alone a better one. She shook her head gently, her nose scrunching up in protest. “You’d smell like one of those women who have a crusty poodle.” You let out a chortle, placing the bottle back in its rightful place. So that was a no. 

“How about this?” You smelled another bottle before spraying it on a piece of cardboard. Natasha eyed the packaging warily, her judgement of the exterior predicting her verdict rather accurately. She shook her head again, her hands reaching for the jar of coffee beans on the shelf before you. 

“You won’t find a new one if you keep asking for my opinion”, she warned, breathing in the stuffy smell of stale coffee. “Nothing can top your current scent.” 

“You’re a big fan of that one, aren’t you, love?” You gave her a teasing look, Natasha rolling her eyes in good nature.  

“It holds a lot of memories.” She had a slight pout on her lips as she eyed the perfumes. 

“I told you, darling. I’m getting more of that scent as well”, you said gently, turning to the side to see her face. 

“I’m just saying. Nothing can top the one I got you.” You smiled brightly, touched by her rather obvious attachment to your scent. 

“You’re more than right.” You continued browsing through the perfumes, sniffing them one after the other, visiting the coffee jar a few times to neutralize your sense of smell before going right back to work. You went through maybe ten, maybe twenty bottles of perfume, discovering a few that you liked, but nothing that quite stood out to you. That was until you found a bit more expensive shelf of scents. Your eyes landed on a gorgeous bottle that immediately stuck out to you among the rest. It was a tall, slender bottle made out of black glass, the name written in gold cursive, a few gold accents decorating the glass. You simply had to know what it smelled like, your hands reaching for the bottle like a child reaching for a ridiculously large lollipop at a candy store. You pulled the cap off, bringing the sprayer to your nose, your eyes widening immediately. You inhaled the smell a little deeper, making sure you were truly smelling what you were smelling. Your eyes fluttered shut on their own. It was one of the most pleasant scents you had come across in a long time. You took another deep breath. It was so rich, but not too stuffy. It was perfectly balanced and exactly what you had been looking for. It felt like it was made for you. 

“I think this could be it”, you said in excitement, turning around to find Natasha. “Mmh, this smells so good. God”, you groaned, barely able to move the bottle from your nose for long enough to spray it on a piece of cardboard for Natasha. 

“Let’s see then. This one better be good, you’re starting to make noises only I should be pulling out of you.” You felt your cheeks flush with warmth at the look she gave you as she brought her nose forward to smell the scent, its depth and tones catching her by surprise in the most wonderful way imaginable. Her slightly widened eyes turned to you, an approving look forming onto her face. “Mmh, that’s… I really like that one”, she admitted in mild astonishment after having scrunched her nose to the last fifteen perfumes you had sampled. 

“Really?”

“I guess there’s only one way to find out”, she mused, taking the bottle from your hand. You had a confused frown on your features when she pulled you close by your waist, her other hand tilting your chin up to bare your neck, carefully pulling back your fluffy scarf. She applied some of the perfume on your skin, the cold spray nearly making you shiver as it settled over your skin. She set the bottle down as she waited for the perfume to dry before bringing you closer, dipping her head down, her nose brushing up the side of your neck. She inhaled deeply, shivers running down your spine as goosebumps erupted over the skin of your forearms. You suddenly felt breathless, your eyelids fluttering shut as your heartbeat picked up into a rapid flutter. Her warm breath tickled your neck as her lips grazed over your skin, hands squeezing your waist, sending a spark of heat through you. She placed gentle kisses up to your ear, the sound of her breathing making your knees weak. “You smell good enough to eat”, she whispered, her hand sliding inside your long coat and over your hip to the curve of your behind, pulling you flush against her, sending a violently strong jolt of pleasure up your spine. You let out a shaky sigh, leaning into her touch, your search for a perfume completely forgotten. “This is the one”, she chuckled quietly, pulling away from you to find that specific look of lust in your eyes, the corner of her mouth quirking up into a smug smirk. 

“We’ll get a bottle of that then. What else did you need, detka?” You needed a moment to collect yourself, pushing aside the warmth that stirred between your legs from the pressure of Natasha’s hand on your ass, fingertips a little too low on your body for the public but thankfully hidden by your coat. 

“I need… um, uh… lingerie”, you mumbled a bit incoherently, Natasha’s lips stretching into a smug smirk from how affected you were. 

“Then we better change sections.” With a packaged bottle of perfume in hand, she guided you into another corner of the department store to find the extensive selection of lingerie that distracted you slightly from the ghost of Natasha’s touch that somehow seemed to linger on your buttocks. “What are you looking for?” She asked as you both browsed through the bras and underwear, Natasha eyeing some of the more casual pieces with the intention of maybe finding something for herself since she was already there. 

“A set.” 

“What kind of set?” She looked at you curiously, clearly intrigued. You merely glanced at her, going back to skimming over some blush toned lace bras on display. 

“Something with lace.” Your fingers touched the different styles of lace, studying the intricate patterns. 

“Hmm, you wouldn’t happen to need your bust measured, would you?” Natasha asked without an ounce of shame in her voice, glancing toward the fitting rooms. You turned to look at her, a sly smile finding your face. “The sizing can be tricky with this brand”, she mused innocently, shrugging her shoulders as she looked at the rack of bras before you. 

“Uh huh.” You couldn’t help but to chuckle. “We did that last time. What was my size again?”

“A nice handful.” Natasha snickered quietly into her brown scarf, her mirthful eyes lingering on you. She looked downright adorable, her red curls framing her face in the most beautiful manner, a very vivid memory of her in a similar get up on a snowy day the previous winter flashing across your mind. You needed to do a portrait of her in the snow with her comically large scarf and beautiful red curls, blushed cheeks and playful eyes. You smiled to yourself, shaking your head in disbelief as you went back to looking through bras. 

“A simple set will be enough for today.” You let out a small hum as if contemplating something, your hands pulling out a soft pink bra, bringing it up in front of Natasha. She eyed you in suspicion as you clearly envisioned the piece on her body instead of your own, her stomach bubbling with warmth at the idea. She took a few steps closer to you, the hand that was holding the bra brushing against her coat. 

“And may I ask for what?” 

“You’ll see.” You gave her a small smirk. 

You came home soon after, immediately setting up your easel for a reason Natasha couldn’t quite decipher. You had no artworks due currently, nor had you really mentioned that you were going to paint upon your return home. She watched you make your favorite warm drink to sip on while you painted, but what made even less sense was the way you assembled a bunch of pillows on your bed and spread a fluffy, red blanket over them as if shaping some kind of still-life setting. She watched in curiosity as she put away all that you had acquired from the shopping trip, her eyes going back to you ever so often to see what you were doing, until you suddenly appeared beside her. You had a look in your eyes, a specific look that Natasha was more than familiar with. She knew that look of dedication, that sense of visionary aim. You had something specific on your mind. 

She observed you in mild amusement as your gaze dipped down her body, your eyes calculating but still soft and loving, admiring. Your hands came up to her waist, slowly beginning to untuck her blouse from her straight-cut trousers, the silky fabric sliding right out, your eyes coming up to meet hers. You couldn’t help the slight tug of your lips, your subtle smile rubbing immediately off on Natasha as she stood still and let you undress her piece by piece. Her shirt came off, followed by her bra, Natasha maintaining her confident stance even when you peeled off her trousers and underwear. You would never get enough of the compelling poise of her demeanor. She was so confident in her skin that undressing her had no effect on her. Where someone else might have hunched more in on themselves or tried to hide their most sensitive physical parts when exposed in such a vulnerable way, for Natasha it didn’t matter. She had nothing to be ashamed of and she knew it. You ran your fingertips over her bare abdomen where a few light scars lingered, your touch breaking her skin out in goosebumps, yet she remained unmoving, waiting for you to express your wishes. You pulled back enough to be able to reach the back of your desk chair where Natasha had placed the lingerie set you had bought for her. You grabbed it, coming back to her with a smile that was leaning more toward sensual and playful than anything else. 

“Put this on, baby.” 

“Mm, bossy”, she hummed in an equally teasing tone, matching your flirt. “I like it.” She received the lingerie set from you, keeping her eyes on you as she slowly pulled the bottom piece on, hiking the lace up her defined thighs, your eyes observing carefully how the lace hugged her hips perfectly. The effect of the bra was very similar as she put it on, fitting her breasts into the lacy cups that were just sheer enough to allow the pink of her areolas to push through. It fit her just right, bringing you one step closer to your vision. You guided her to the bed where the luscious fur blanket was spread, instructing her to lie down on it. The inside of the blanket was lined with slippery satin that felt cool to touch when it pressed up against Natasha’s bare skin. You posed her in a horizontal way, your hands fluffing up the pillows you had assembled to support her upper body. She let her body sink into the bed so you could move and adjust her limbs and hair to your liking, her curious eyes remaining on you as you fussed around her. You pushed her a little further into the pillows, making sure the different textures of the textiles were on display, the fur, the lace, the satin. You placed one of her arms closer to her head, the other resting languidly draped over her waist. Her figure was beautifully accentuated in the position, giving her lace decorated hips the opportunity to shine, the curve of her waist undeniably attractive as she lay on her side. The position made you think of an utterly luxurious nap, a giddy smile finding your face. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. You’re perfect. Oh, my god.” You squealed quietly, girlishly, barely able to contain your excitement, a grin stretching onto Natasha’s lips. She loved seeing you in your element. It was beyond fascinating. “Wait, oh, wait.” You rushed away from her, looking through your vanity for something, soon returning with white pearls in your hand. Natasha eyed them a bit suspiciously but allowed you to drape them around her neck. “Oh, <em>oh</em>.” You looked like you were receiving physical pleasure from how beautiful she looked, Natasha laughed quietly. The pearls gave her such a royal and elegant look, reality overpowering your vision. The image was better than you could have imagined. You adjusted her curls a bit, tousling her red locks to give her a messier look, Natasha giving you a small disapproving frown because she had just styled her curls the night before. 

“Sorry, baby.” You gave her a small apologetic pout. “It’s for the greater good”, you said playfully, Natasha rolling her eyes in amusement. Your hand found her chest, cupping her breast to adjust the bra, moving one of the straps off her shoulder before gently peeling down some of the lace to make her look like she had simply fallen asleep after undressing herself from what you envisioned to be a gorgeous ball gown. “You are magnificent.” You placed a wet smooch on Natasha’s forehead before practically skipping behind your easel to begin your painting process. You were beyond ecstatic. 

You slathered an acrylic underpainting on the canvas, toning it to a more neutral value that would allow your eyes to pick up on more subtle changes in the hues and values of the paint. You paused for a moment as you waited for the thin paint layer to dry, your eyes fixed on Natasha, an enamored smile on your face as you stared at her like a freak. It made Natasha laugh, a few teasing remarks getting slung your way. You were barely patient enough to wait but you managed to push through, your hand flying to the canvas the second the acrylic paint would let you. Natasha watched you nearly vibrate in excitement as you went back and forth between her and the canvas, your paintbrush sweeping over the primed surface with such ease it was truly a joy to watch you paint. Natasha wished she could have seen the canvas, but alas she had to settle for lying in what was honestly a surprisingly comfortable position for modeling. She might have even dozed off for a moment or two during the next three hours you spent painting, the image on the canvas coming to life piece by piece to resemble the setting more and more the harder you worked. 

You tried different brush techniques to create a more texturally balanced and interesting piece, doing your very best to replicate the softness of the fur, the shine of the satin and pearls, the dewiness of her skin, the sheerness of her lace lingerie. You did your best to create a beautiful and complimentary color composition for the piece, making sure the red was deep enough, and her ivory skin delicate enough. You used crimson and ultramarine to bring depth to the red of the fur, noting where the tone was darker and where it was lighter. You studied the way the light reflected off the satin material, observed the meticulous hue shifts in the shadows on her body, spent a long amount of time figuring out how to make the lace of the underwear look as soft and as sheer as it was in real life. You did your very best to make her look peaceful in the painting, just as peaceful as she did on the bed in front of you. She was a picture of elegant beauty, one that you would keep in your apartment, in your bedroom, in your life. You would take it to your grave. It was that gorgeous. 

Natasha regained consciousness after an unidentifiable period of napping, her body immediately aware that it had stayed dutifully in its pose the entire time. The fur and the satin felt amazing against her skin, it made her want to roll around on the bed just to feel the smoothness of the fabric. She glanced at you after what felt like hours of lying, noting that you were still your busy bee self, working on the painting like you couldn’t have stopped even if the world fell at your feet. It made Natasha’s confidence skyrocket, or rather, the entire situation had been boosting her confidence from the moment you pictured that lacy bra on her at the mall. Her entire body, her mind, her heart felt so light and airy. She felt so empowered by your enthusiasm, like her physical being was getting periodical doses of confidence and power injected into her. She felt almost high from the sheer knowledge of being able to maintain your interest for such a long stretch of time. It was quite exhilarating to see the kind of passion she stirred within you. It made her feel special, important, and so, so <em>good</em>. Maybe a little too good. 

Without even really thinking about it, Natasha moved her hand over her abdomen, feeling the cool skin there, her hand moving over the gentle curve of her stomach. She was getting cold despite the warmth of the blanket beneath her, goosebumps littering her arms, her nail beds a delicate shade of purple. You were so focused on your painting that you didn’t even notice her drop her pose, her hand moving down to the lace of her underwear, feeling over the thin fabric with her fingertips. She was nowhere near anything intimate, her fingers simply brushing over the space beneath her navel, yet her body reacted to the sensation, her skin prickling with goosebumps, her senses becoming more heightened. She played with the lace, traced the edge of it with the tip of her nail, her eyes on you and your focused frown. She smiled to herself. You looked so attractive like that, fully immersed in your art, in the process of creation. Her hand slid lower, fingertips gliding over the lace, but her current position didn’t allow much more, so she tilted her pelvis slightly, rolling more onto her back so she could gain better access to the part of her that she wished to touch the most. She closed her eyes, listening to the steady hum of rain that had appeared during the time she had been asleep, her fingers tracing shapes over the lace, gentle tickles of pleasure spreading down the insides of her thighs and across her lower abdomen. 

Her hand slipped beneath the lace, fingertips brushing over the coarse curls there. She felt rather sensitive to her own touch, her lower half already restless from anticipation. She allowed her fingers to dip farther between her legs, feeling over her folds. It felt pleasant, but more so relaxing than anything else. Her other hand that was closer to her upper body moved to her chest, gently cupping her lace-covered breast to simply feel her own body. It felt good, not as good as your touch would have felt, but good, nonetheless. The thought of you made her chest feel tight with excitement, her eyes fluttering open to see you, although you disappeared almost completely behind the canvas, so she shut her eyes again, her hand continuing to fondle her breasts, tugging down the lace cups to feel the skin better. 

Natasha’s left hand remained in her underwear, slowly building up the mild buzz that had accumulated there. She knew that she wasn’t quite turned on enough to be wet, so after a moment longer of exploring her dry folds, she brought her hand out of her underwear and up to her lips, wetting them with her tongue. She felt the corner of her mouth tug up into a slight smile when she imagined the moment you would notice just how much she had strayed from her position and what exactly had caused it. Her soaked fingertips found her folds again, gliding smoothly over the silky skin of her sex. She parted her thighs just enough to comfortably fit her hand between them, her other hand circling her breasts absentmindedly. She could hear you work, hear the brushes scratch the surface of the canvas, a dizzying warmth finding her lower abdomen when she recalled what exactly you were painting, and how obsessed you were with your work. 

“Hey…” Your words died in your throat the very moment you laid your eyes on Natasha again. You had intended to ask her how she was holding up with her posing but the sight of her was enough to let you know where she was at. Your eyes ran along the entire length of her body, taking in her breasts that had spilled from the lace cups, moving all the way between her legs where the gentle movement of her hand elicited an urgent wave of heat to go through you. With the sudden change in plans, you wiped your paintbrush clean and placed it down on the table beside you. 

“Oh, I didn’t realize you got tired of posing”, you mumbled apologetically, trying to ignore the fact that she did not stop touching herself. 

“Keep going”, she sighed, the certain heaviness in her tone nothing short of sensual. Suddenly you had no desire to paint. 

“I think I’m done. If you’re gonna stop then I should too”, you reasoned, but Natasha tutted you in disapproval. “It’s been hours.” 

“You keep painting, baby.” She adjusted her position on the bed, arching just enough to get comfortable, a small hum sounding from her. 

“But-”

“Listen to mommy, now.” You didn’t even get to finish your rebuttal. You felt a torturous heat rise up your neck at the term she had used, your body reacting immediately to her. You were frozen still, unable to keep painting when all you could think about was replacing her hand with your mouth. She glanced at you pointedly, her firm hand fondling her breasts, squeezing the warm flesh. She could feel your eyes on her as she continued to massage her chest, her mouth falling slightly agape when she pinched a nipple.  “Paint.” Her tone was firmer, harsher, unyielding.  It was an order, your hand moving to the brush so fast you nearly dropped it altogether. 

You did your best to get back into the flow of painting, but there was nothing that you could have done anymore to get your head back in the game. Natasha was on the bed, her knees spread, back arched, lips parted. You could tell that her breath was picking up alongside the speed of her hand, which in and of itself was already enough to make you want to join her, but you knew you couldn’t, sheepishly going back to your work, although this time around you were more than focused on your subject. With your face burning hotter than a bonfire, you began to place paint on the canvas, vehemently ignoring the gentle moans she let out. The room was silent enough to only barely let you hear that she was wet, the sheets rustling quietly as she moved, your eyes fixed on the lace between her legs. To avoid getting scolded for staring, you tore your eyes off her and focused back on your work, but it did absolutely nothing to distract you because the same image was staring back at you in the carefully applied paint. You heard a muffled moan from her, her body jerking slightly when she found the perfect angle against her clit, her teeth sinking into her lower lip. 

“Please.” It just slipped. You didn’t mean to be so pathetic, but you could not resist her, sitting helplessly with your paintbrush in hand. You saw the smug smirk on Natasha’s lips, a pitying chuckle falling from her lips, the sound cut short as it morphed into a groan. Your entire body tingled, your heart dropping because you knew the buzz inside you was not going to find relief anytime soon. “I can't focus.” Natasha gasped, her body receiving the moniker with enthusiasm. She couldn’t even try to deny how much she loved it. Unfortunately, witnessing the effect you had on her only made you more restless, which in turn gave you an idea. You may not have been able to touch her while you painted, but you could certainly talk. “At least not on painting.” Natasha’s eyes remained closed, her fingers slowing down, but her chest only heaved heavier from how turned on she was, automatically drawing your attention to her round breasts that looked irresistibly soft and inviting. 

“Paint, malyshka (baby girl).” She spoke breathily, arching her back to escape the pressure that was building up in her body. 

“I could make you feel so much better”, you whispered. “You know how good my mouth feels.” 

“Y/N”, she huffed as a warning, but you rarely tended to listen. 

“What, mommy? I just want to make you feel good.” You put on a coy little smile just in time for when she glanced your way. “Remember how good I am?” Oh, Natasha remembered. In fact, she could not forget. “How good my tongue feels? How wet and soft?” Your hands were itching to touch her, squeeze any part of her, your eyes roaming over her toned thighs and glutes, taking in her full hips, full chest, sculpted arms. Natasha’s eyes failed to remain open, her hand taking the speed up a notch. She let out a shaky sigh, squirming slightly under the touch of her own hand. She was getting closer to her release which was only an issue because it wasn’t from your touch but her own. You wanted to be the one to push her over that edge. 

“I remember, baby.” She moaned quietly, her head tilting back. “But you need to learn patience.” Right. If you didn’t know her you might have believed that, but you knew that all she wanted to do was tease you. 

“I wanna make you come.” Her face screwed up from pleasure, mouth agape, her movements starting to lean more toward spastic. She didn’t respond to you, she couldn’t, any words that she might have wanted to say replaced by breathy moans. In the little time she had spent teasing you, she had become soaked, her fingertips sliding effortlessly over her folds as she massaged her sex, an all-consuming pleasure beaming from her lower abdomen to every inch of her being. She suddenly stopped, moving her hand off her folds, her body threatening to squirm from the pressure that lingered even without any stimulation. Her chest heaved rhythmically, teeth abusing her lower lip all too harshly in your opinion, but she hadn’t come, not yet. 

“Please, Natasha-” She gave you a look. One that was laden with pleasure, but chastising, nonetheless. “Mommy”, you corrected yourself. 

“We’ll see, detka (baby).” She let out a few long breaths before opening her eyes to look at you, her hands coming down to the lace on her hips, slowly peeling the fabric off. She smiled at you, gave you a taunting little smirk as she tossed the very lingerie you had picked out for her at your feet. Payback was always a bitch. This is what you got for treating her like your personal mannequin. You stared down at the underwear, your eyes quickly returning to her body to see her hand find her sex again. She brought back the same steady rhythm, building her pleasure back up just to show you that she could, but she wouldn’t let herself find release. She was taunting you by edging herself. She knew that every time she brought herself closer to release, you became more desperate to be the cause of it. She was toying with both you and herself to see how long you would last. 

“How- how’s the painting?” Oh, she was insufferable. To think that you would give a flying fuck about your painting anymore. 

“My model moved.” Natasha laughed in the most genuine way, breaking up some of the tension between you. It brought a pleased grin to your lips. 

“What a shame.” There was not an ounce of guilt in her tone, her mouth stretched into a happy smile. You sat helplessly behind your easel, eyes locked on her as her body found a steady tremble again, breath flowing out of her lungs in rapid puffs, a few moans slipping from her whenever her touch felt particularly good. Sitting in your chair was starting to get uncomfortable, the jeans you wore seeming to grow tighter than you remembered them to be. You could feel that you were restless, wishing to move in a way that would allow you to either find more pressure or find relief from the already existing pressure between your legs. 

Natasha brought herself to the very edge of an orgasm, clearly starting to get more lost in her pleasure. It was harder to control the sensation the stronger it became. Her moans were no longer purposely slipped to taunt you, but they were becoming involuntary. You could always tell when she had crossed over from performance to authentic pleasure. Her moans turned deeper, breathier, accompanied by whimpers and whines that were completely out of her control as she teetered the very edge of ecstasy. You thought she was going to make you watch her come undone, but just before reaching her peak, she pulled her hand away. She was panting heavily, her gorgeous chest heaving with each gasp of air she took, her legs moving restlessly to prevent herself from falling over just yet. 

“Fuck”, you muttered under your breath, cursing the fact that her bent leg and hand were covering up the parts you wanted to see the most. She looked so enthralling, so captivating and straight up delicious that your patience was truly getting tested. You had always been cocky and arrogant enough to think that such cheap manners of teasing wouldn’t get to you, but oh lord, had you been wrong. You were turned on enough to start rubbing yourself against the chair, but you still had enough of your dignity left not to embarrass yourself like that. She let out a little chuckle, one filled with joy, as if she knew just how deep beneath your skin she was getting. You loved when she laughed during sex. There was no better way for her to express just how much fun she was having with you, how well you were taking care of her, than unadulterated glee. You wanted to hear more of it, better yet, you wanted to hear the certain kind of laugh she let out whenever you made her come unexpectedly hard. 

She looked at you for a moment, her breath more even, demeanor more serene. The charge between you was undeniable. You almost felt like you couldn’t even move from how charged the atmosphere felt, but Natasha didn’t seem to experience such petrifying awe. She moved slightly, adjusting herself against the assortment of pillows you had gathered under her upper body, directing her lower half more toward you. She smiled to herself, giving you a playful look that made you want to jump out of your seat. You thought that you had been ridiculously and irrevocably affected by her to begin with, but when she spread her knees once more, giving you a completely uncensored look at her sex, you knew that you were one hundred and one percent gone. There was no going back. You didn’t even realize that you stood up, taking a step toward her as if compelled to simply touch her, but Natasha let out a gentle tut. 

“Sit down.” She extended her left leg, the sole of her foot pressing over your lower abdomen, just over the button of your jeans, pushing you back. Even that was enough to make your body buzz twice as intensely, but you heeded her command nonetheless, somehow unable to misbehave. Natasha smirked almost smugly. “Oh, I didn’t think you were going to behave today.” You had nothing to say for yourself. She could see from your face that you were waiting for something, waiting for praise, but all you got was a small smile of approval. “Now, watch mommy.” You couldn’t have stopped yourself even if you had wanted to. 

She stroked her left hand down her inner thigh, your overactive mind able to recall in vivid detail just how good the tender skin felt both beneath your fingertips and tongue. You wanted to kiss the silky flesh, stroke your tongue over it before wrapping your lips around it to suck a blooming bruise on her. You wanted to feel how warm she was, kiss her until she grew impatient with you. Her hand moved lower, fingertips brushing over her pubic hair, her walls pulsing at the bit of contact. You could see it with your own eyes, feeling an intense flutter of arousal go through you, your body responding to the sight. You could feel how wet you were, your underwear sticking to your folds, your body begging to be touched. You let out a long sigh, watching how her fingertips grazed over the outside of her sex, tracing her shape, refraining from touching the swollen, pink skin that glistened with her arousal. 

“Please. You look so beautiful”, you said quietly, hoping that she was going to accept your compliments. You received a gentle hum from her. 

“Not yet, baby.” 

“When?” You sounded desperate. Natasha didn’t answer, her hand moving again, fingertips reaching her sex. She let out a pleased hum, her hand massaging herself at a tantalizingly slow pace. She let out a slight hiss as if she couldn’t quite handle the burn, her eyes threatening to slide shut, but she managed to keep her gaze on you. 

“Take off your shirt for me, baby.” Your shirt had indeed never flown off your body faster. You tossed it to the side, impatiently waiting for more instructions. 

“Pants”, she whispered in between silent gasps, her hips already grinding up against her hand. You undressed yourself into your underwear, Natasha’s gaze hot and heavy on you. It made your entire body tingle and burn, every nerve standing on edge, fully alert of what was to come. She slowed down her hand, a small smile finding your face. You were getting to her. “Let me see you, baby.” She said it in a breathy murmur that made your knees weak, your hands moving to the clasp of your bra to remove the garment. “Mmh.” You felt heat rise to your cheeks from her reaction to your breasts, from what you were doing, what she was doing. “Oh, fuck, mmh, you’re gorgeous.” You stroked your hands over your breasts, fondling them for show, pleased that she was so willing to look at you, that you were fueling her pleasure just through your appearance. 

“Let me touch you, mommy.” She was so affected that her eyes slid shut, her body writhing in pleasure. “Let me make you feel good.” A part of you wanted to see her finally find release, hear her moans, and watch her come undone, but another part of you, a stronger part of you, wanted to <em>feel</em> it. “You could come against me instead of your hand”, you hummed teasingly, your hands finding your underwear to inch them down your thighs. “Think about it.” Natasha was too wrapped up in pleasure to be able to respond to you, the mental images you were giving her only feeding into the delicious pressure between her legs. “You could come against my mouth, my face. Or if you wanted to, my hand or my pussy.” You trailed your hand down your body, every single nerve standing on end as you dipped your hand between your legs. “I’m so wet.” Your tone was purposely taunting, your fingers feeling around the slick that had gathered between your legs.  

She yanked her hand away from her sex, visibly trembling from the tension in her body, but she wouldn’t let herself take it any further. She needed release. She needed it more than anything else, yet she allowed her body to come down slightly and relax further into the bed. She was able to open her eyes again to look at you, an excited, pleased grin finding her face. She was such a sucker for teasing. She loved testing her own limits and tantalizing you in the process. Her eyes dipped down your body before they slid shut once more, her back arching off the bed in an attempt to hold herself off for just a little longer. 

“You can touch me, malyshka (baby girl).” You dropped to your knees beside the bed in an instant, your arms hugging her lower body greedily, your hands attempting to pull her closer and closer to you as if you could have fit all of her into your embrace. Your mouth pressed over her sex with visible fervor, your warm tongue flattening against her, Natasha letting out a heavy moan. You were so hungry for her, devouring her with such urgency that Natasha quite literally squealed, the sound making your pussy throb for more. Your hands groped her torso, her chest, giving her soft breasts a squeeze before touching any other parts of her you could reach. You licked over her soaked folds, coating your lips and chin in her arousal before wrapping your mouth around her clit, sucking harshly. It elicited a desperate noise from her that came from somewhere deep inside her. She was drowning in pleasure, her eyes rolling to the back of her head as her body grew spastic and erratic. She was vibrating beneath you, completely lost in her body, in your touch. Her hand found your head to press you closer, the other gripping the dark crimson fur of the blanket beneath her. 

It didn’t take much effort from you to bring her over the edge. She was in such a charged state that any kind of touch from you contributed greatly to reaching the peak of her pleasure. The coil in Natasha’s lower abdomen tightened to be unbearable, her focus zeroed in on the warm wetness of your mouth against her equally wet sex. She couldn’t think, she couldn’t function, her body reaching ecstasy with a few good pulses from your mouth. She let out a broken moan that was a mix between a moan and a cry, the sound coming across raw and authentic. It brought goosebumps to your skin, a shiver of pleasure going down your back. She sounded beautiful, just as beautiful as she looked. You could feel her walls pulse against your mouth as you continued to lick her throbbing sex, her body jerking with each dizzying wave of pleasure that she experienced. She let out another unintelligible moan that morphed into laughter of mild disbelief from how insanely good she felt. 

“Oh, detka (baby)”, she chuckled quietly, writhing against the bed to soak up every ounce of pleasure she could as your soothing tongue lapped at her folds, cleaning up the excess of come and spit off her. She let out a sigh, her chest heaving dramatically, another laugh falling from her lips, her tight grip on your hair loosening so she could caress your head instead. “God, you know how to eat pussy.” She hadn’t felt such hunger and greed from you perhaps ever before, at least not according to her blissed-out brain. Nothing had ever felt as good as that moment did. You chuckled softly against her, placing a few final sloppy kisses over her clit before pulling away to see her face. She tilted her chin down enough to make eye contact with you, smiling at you fondly. “Moya úmnitsa (my good girl).” You couldn’t help the grin that found your lips as you hid your face against her inner thigh, placing a few kisses there for good measure. “Come here, darling.” She pulled on your arms to bring you onto the bed, adjusting herself enough to fit you comfortably onto the mattress, your body sinking on top of her own. Your cool skin came into contact with her blazing hot chest and abdomen, your body melting into her warmth, Natasha’s firm hands rubbing over your curves as if to ensure that you were perfectly molded against her. 

“You’re so…” You failed to find an appropriate word, taking a moment to search for one. “Mommy”, you whispered, kissing her, her laugh vibrating against your lips. 

“So mommy, hmm?” She tucked some of your hair behind your ear, kissing the side of your head. Natasha wouldn’t say it, but she could feel her body pulse at the way you said it, at the way it made her feel. 

“So mommy.” You chuckled softly, humming at the comfort her touch brought you as she stroked both her hands down your back and over your hips to find your glutes. You pressed your hips tighter against her own when she squeezed your backside. You were restless, leaking against her thigh, which functioned as an effective ego boost for Natasha, not that she needed any more boosting for the day. She smirked to herself, sliding her left hand even lower, her fingers dipping between your legs to see just how wet you were. She hummed in approval when she was met with the distinct and unmistakable sign of your arousal, her fingers sinking further into your sex, eager for more. 

“Looks like you made a mess for mommy to clean up. I better take care of this.” You chuckled quietly at her pleased tone, kissing her neck a bit sloppily before humming in agreement.  

“You’re welcome.” She flipped you off her and into the sheets, your joyous laughter resonating in the bedroom. 

[battymommastuff]

The Loop [Caution: Sharp Objects]

Batmom x Batfamily

Prompt: It was all a nightmare...simply a nightmare right? Right?

TW: DARK THEMES, NEEDLES AND DEATH

Masterlist Part 1

(GIF not mine)

You uncomfortably made breakfast as Cassandra stared holes into your head. Every Time you moved too quickly, she would flinch then reach out for you. As if she were trying to protect you from something. While you enjoyed spending time with the people you considered your children, this was making you weary.

You were still trying to figure out what happened earlier that morning. Never in your life were you greeted like that. Every single face that you saw had the same look of pure horror on it. It was like you had died right in front of them or something.

"She's just cooking...cooking breakfast." Barbara said as she watched you from the security cameras in the kitchen. Well it wasn't just her watching. "Every movement, and order she's cooking in was exactly the same." Barbara leaned closer to the camera, she wasn't going to miss any details. Anything that you do differently, she will document.

"A hallucigen?" Tim suggested grimacing when he felt the needle push into his vein. Alfred hummed in thought as he collected another blood sample to test, "We were all at the fight with the League, it's possible they used some invisible drug. Maybe us waking up was the drug leaving our system?" Tim asked as Alfred pulled the needle from his arm. After getting it bandaged, he stood up so Duke could get his blood tested next.

"That is likely, we should have done urine samples instead." Bruce mumbled as he analyzed their blood for any signs of drugs or anything that didn't belong.

"Bruce, all the blood is coming up clean. If we were drugged, I doubt something that strong would wash out that quickly. I mean come on, we were all there. We felt her dead body, I felt her blood soak into my pants. There was no way it was fake. It was too real." Dick snapped and ran his hand through his hair, "I felt her body get cold. How is any of this even happening?" He asked then walked away while weaving his fingers through his hair. Stephanie followed after him to try and console him.

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Okay, you were a little offended. You've just finished your famous breakfast, and no one is anywhere to be seen. Well except Cass, who was still watching you while she ate. After a few minutes of the silence, you stood up and stormed to the batcave.

The team was hard at work trying to figure out what happened when you made your way into the dark and gloomy place. "I made a delicious breakfast, and no one has come up to enjoy it. What possibly is so important that you couldn't wait?" You asked while crossing you arms.

They nearly jumped out of their skin when they heard your voice. They were so focused on finding a solution, that they didn't hear you coming down the steps.

Your eyes drifted from your family to the giant computer screen where you saw the results of their drug tests, "What is going on?" You asked then grabbing the nearest person who happened to be Damian. You turned his arm around to see the gauze and bandage wrapped around his arm.

"After the fight with the League, we wanted to make sure we were under the effects of anything dangerous. A simple precaution." Bruce said quickly as he made his way over to you. He rested his hands on your waist, but you noticed the slight hesitation as he did. "Now, let's go eat your breakfast." He said then started leading you out of the batcave, which only led you to ask more questions.

The surprise party was quickly canceled. Even if it was a dream, they didn't want to relive an ounce of those memories. Instead, they opted to take you shopping to your favorite places. Each store, they took turns buying you whatever you wanted. To you, it looked like a simple family outing, but to others, it looked like you were walking around with bodyguards.

Damian even went as far as threatening someone who glanced at you for too long.

After several stores, it was time to get a snack. Everyone managed to cram themselves into the outside patio of an ice cream shop. Bruce felt at ease being that they were in the safer part of the city. You ate your ice cream while chatting away happily. Everyone began to relax, and finally started to feel as if this was just a bad dream.

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Now fully relaxed, your family abandoned the protection formation. You were pushing Barbara and chatting with Jason casually. Though you didn't miss the sketchy person that had been following you. Your constant glances behind you didn't go unnoticed by Jason who alerted the rest of the family.

As soon as the stalker realized he'd been discovered, he lunged for you. Jason quickly intervened, but this man was clearly skilled. It wasn't long before your entire family was fighting to subdue this man. They had to do so as best they could without raising any suspicion as to who their alter egos were. After their success, they proceeded to question him. He could be linked to their dream...if it was real.

Though they would never think that this man could have a partner. He did. You let out a strangled scream when someone grabbed you from behind and a knife was plunged into your chest. The knife left your body, only to be plunged in again and again. Both men ran in opposite directions after the deed was done. This time, Damian was the one who caught you instead of your body hitting the ground.

The young boy watched as you coughed up your blood, and looked at you bleeding body in shock. You then looked up at Damian and your eyes went cold. "Ummi?" He called out while pressing his small hands against your wounds, as if that would help. How could this have happened? What the hell was going on?

Like the night at the party, everyone stood in shock. It was up to one of the Gotham citizens to call the police.

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Police cars, and news vans crowded the area as the family found themselves reliving the horrible night over again. Though no one was holding your body this time. A bloody white sheet covered it. Jason was currently handcuffed and in the back of a police car after he took his anger out on another one.

Gordon knelt by his daughter's side in an attempt to get her to speak, but she was quiet. All eyes were on your corpse once again. What did they do wrong? Was someone out to kill you? First a bullet through the head, then being stabbed in the middle of the street? It didn't make sense.

Dick sat on the ground with his head in his hands when he felt the urge to look up. Across the street where the massive crowd was, he saw a dark figure standing there. It seemed like no one could see it, but him, "Guys?" He called out as he stood up. Everyone looked at him, then followed his pointed finger. Like Dick, they saw the same dark figure.

They watched as it cocked its head to the side then held up an all too familiar music box. Slowly, it opened and the crank started to spin. Bruce started running across the street to try and stop this figure, but his body collapsed to the ground. Gordon caught his daughter when she fell into his arms. She was fast asleep.

Dick held himself up against the wall while trying to memorize every detail of this figure. Whatever it was, he was going to stop it.

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Damian woke up with cold sweat on his body. He wasted no time in getting out of bed to get to his parent's bedroom. He was wearing the same pj's as last time. He threw the door open, and saw that Bruce had just woken up.

Ignoring his father, he went right to the bathroom where you were rubbing some lotion onto your hands. "Damian, what's-" You were cut off when Damian collided with you. His arms were nearly crushing you, "Ummi." He whimpered out like he did when he was having a nightmare. You rested one hand on his head, and the other was on his back.

"It's alright little bird, I'm right here. Everything is okay."

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TAGLIST

@justafanficsreader @seaweed-orchid @O-n-1-x @jared-oranges

@cumbermovels

[tinydefector]

Ohhhh ok ok the Human affects one!!!

After the incident of drunken smash or pass and Rodimus drinking pep talk and all.

A new newbie maybe a Mech/or a human scientist idk and Liaison/MC was showing the place and all y'know being a good to the new maybe potential coworker. BUT !! Because of this everyone is starting a new rumors that possibly of the newbie having a crush on Liaison/MC and because of that the gang (aka the cybertronian's who have already have a crush on Liaison/MC) a "bit" jealous after witnessing both newbie and Liaison/MC alone in Swerve bar.

........

;3333 don't mind me blabbering i really wanted to share this

New Crewmate - human effects

Warnings: none

Word count: 3.3k

Did I take this opportunity to introduce another Oc of mine Yes I did, becuase you gave me the perfect opportunity to introduce my seeker Luna.

Masterlist

Prev

Next

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Landing on Thora 4 had the crew a buzz with excitement of finally landing again. As The Lost Light's landing ramp descended, excitement hummed through the crew like an electric current. Many were itching to stretch limbs and sample new sights.

"Come on, Traxies!" Swerve gripped the younger bots' servo and tugged him down the ramp. "Sweets shop this way - I heard they have the best electrum-fudge that actually charges your intake!"   

Skids whooped and hoisted Bluestreak over his shoulders, spinning around in excitement, overfin finally stopping again. 

Cyclonus and Tailgate talk between themselves, figuring where they plan to go first and what they intended on spending their shanix on. The Ambassador stands beside Ultra Magnus. Reading over notes as many of the crew take off. "What's on the agenda today sir?, ships being fueled, my crew are off collecting supplies" They call out to him while reading over another list of needed personal Supplies.Magnus merely grunts in reply, engrossed in datapads.

The loud sound of heavy pede fall echo's up until Megatron stands near them, nodding in polite greeting. "Ambassador” Megatron Rumbles, Rodimus shouts as he bolts past the try to follow Swerve and Traxies. “Well there goes one of our captain's” they chuckle in amusement as the speedster takes off,  transforming so he can catch up. 

Megatron and Magnus both shake their helms in slight amusement. “I intend on staying at the ship to make sure everything is in order and to ensure Swerve doesn't try to smuggle in any illegal supplies.” Magnus states.  

“Ah don't remind me, last time he smuggled 5 kgs of cannabis on ship and I don't even know how he got ahold of that much” they groan in annoyance. 

A scoffing chortle vents from Megatron's engines at the unsurprising news of Swerve's misadventures. Few could match the minibot's aptitude for trouble, it seemed at least of the nonviolent variety, small mercies there. 

"Wise decision, to remain vigilant over ship. after Rodimus' latest folly. Who knows what manner of chaos his 'quests' might inspire, left unchecked." 

"I will handle the Energon restock, less Rodimus gets us ripped off again.” he hums while heading for the ramp. "I'm happy to come along for a trip" the Ambassador calls to him before he gets far. Megatron turns to the Ambassador with a delighted grin, genuinely pleased by their offer to accompany him. "Your company would be most welcome. Dealing with these merchants often tries my patience." 

He kneels down and extends a servo to help the Ambassador, they climb on as they are lifted and set up on Megatron's shoulder. "Come. Let us be on our way before any other meddlesome crew attempt to invite themselves along." At a slow, steady pace he walked, taking in the landscape of the docking ports, the mix and match of life that bustles around. The human hums while checking over some more reports.

 "I'm curious, Megatron. Have you ever been to Thora 4 before?" They ask while running inventory as their crew updates them on the supplies. "Once, long ago, when this world was but a backwater outpost on the fringes of known space," Megatron rumbled. " it's grown much since then” he remarks while admiring the infrastructure of the buildings.

They make a noise of  agreement  only for their data pad to ping. Their brows pinch slightly as they get a notification from Rodimus. His engine emitted a slight grumble. "Rodimus I presume. What trouble has our wayward captain gotten into now?"

The Ambassador opens the notification from Rodimus. "I believe your co-captain has taken to recruiting another crew member" they state rather amused as they walk through the stalls of the marketplace. Megatron huffed. His old grudge with the hotshot captain had mellowed to exasperated fondness. 

"Rodimus does have an unmatched talent for befriending the unlikeliest of mechs." It makes the Ambassador snicker lightly which earns them a glance from Megatron. “captain is that a soft spot showing” they tease only for him to roll his optics with an amused huff. As they passed stalls hung with crystals, medicinal drones and steaming tanks of viscous energon candy, Megatron's optics drank it all in with new appreciation. 

Thora 4 had become a thriving colony planet and one of the outer ring ship ports. 

The dealing of trades had taken much longer than either of them wanted it too, but Megatron presents made it much easier with dealers and merchants not wanting to see what the ex-warlord would do to them if they didn't agree with the human Ambassador over their ordered supplies. Their eyes move to look at the vast collection of treats, foods and random stuff of the markets, their eyes catching a few of the crew mingling with others. "Do you have a sweet tooth Megs?" They tilt their head while trying to catch his optics. Megatron looks to where the ambassador's curious gaze had been before they fell back to him, spotting familiar shapes among the mingling crowds.

"In truth, I've little experience with sweets," he rumbled, optics crinkling in good-natured thought. "Fuel was strictly rationed in the mines, with no indulgences spared. And in the Pits the most I cared for was having enough to no have my system cause issues in fights that continued during the war." 

Spotting a wheeled vendor pushing a platter piled high with glittering crystallised energon chunks, Megatron paused. His field flickered intrigued as he met the ambassador's eyes. 

"Though, I'm not opposed to trying new things. Unfortunately i don't know many 9d these" He stooped closer. The Ambassador's eyes flicker with mischief as they call out the stall attendant. " Could I please get 4 of the sodium citrum cubes, a Rhodium, Aluminium with red Energon and 3 Vanadium sticks" they call out. Megatron arched a brow plate in surprise and curiosity as the ambassador relayed their order to the stall keeper. Their selection seemed remarkably well-versed in Cybertronian preferences.

"You appear well-acquainted with our kinds' Fuel, Ambassador," he rumbled deeply. "Care to enlighten me?" As the order was packaged and handed over, Megatron examined each item closely - the glistening jewel tones, magnetic textures, subtle energy signatures, most of them looked like things only noble mechs would have consumed before the war, even after the end Megatron saw little reason to indulge in things like this, if it wasn't proper energon and enough to keep him running he wasn't interest outside of high grade on occasions.

He held out the crystal cube to look over. "Just remember hearing Rodimus order the citrum cubes before, the red Energon one I know Drift gets for Ratchet when we stop places that serve it, and we'll the Vanadium sticks are up there" they point to the cybertronian text, an innocent smile graces their lips. 

 "Think I've been taking bots out of dates without you capitan?" It's a teasing Jab.

A low chuckle rumbled from Megatron's chassis as he followed the ambassador's instruction, carefully parsing the neon glyphs above the stall. 

Lifting the small cube slowly to sample, he rolled it experimentally across sensor-laden dermas. He stiffens slightly at the taste, in his opinion it was foul. “how Rodimus can stomach this astounds me, it is foul, worse than earth petroleum when it's been sitting.” He grumbles while trying to get the taste out of his intake. 

It makes the Ambassador laugh as his face scrunch up in distaste. Their laughter mellows into small giggles. “I take it you prefer Diesel?” They inquire, the Tank nods in agreement. “If there was one thing from earth I would praise, it's the creation of your Diesel, which lasts longer and mixes with energon making it more filling” he explains. 

“Well I'm sure we can do something about getting some diesel For you” they hum. It was nice being able to just chat while doing ‘shopping’ their next stop after this wouldn't be for another 3 earth months outside of the planets they would be surveying or dead worlds they were looking for information on. 

The Ambassador let out a small noise of amusement as they see Rodimus standing at the Lost light with an unfamiliar mech,  a silver Seeker, both eagerly stuck in conversation. "Look out here comes trouble" they tease Megatron. Megatron tilted his helm, optics gleaming with dry humour as Rodimus came into view alongside an unfamiliar form. 

"Trouble does seem to follow him like plasma to a magnet," he rumbled to the ambassador. As they neared, Megatron offered courteous greeting. "Rodimus. I see you've made...interesting acquisitions."

Rodimus flashed a roguish grin. "Aw, you know me - can't resist chatting! This here's Luna Whistler. He's a medic. Figured Ratchet, And the others wouldn't mind another set of servos helping around Med.” 

Luna whistler nodded rapidly, clutching a collection of his equipment and gadgets. “Technically I'm a neuron-structural scientist and doctor, I mainly work with reworking and building the strut lines and structures. 

Megatron's optics narrow slightly, sensors tingling. He was wary of the seeker, he knew they most likely meant no harm but he was still on edge. "It's lovely to meet you Luna whistler, has Rodimus given you a tore of the ship, or finalised anything with Ultra Magnus" the question is mainly hinted at Rodimus.

Megatron fixed Rodimus with an expectant look as the Ambassador queried after proper protocols. Rodimus flashed a sheepish grin. "Aw, you worry too much, but no.. I was actually hoping one of you would be able to help me with it, pretty please?" He asked while looking at the two with pleading optics. 

Megatron let's out a tired vent before speaking. “I will assist with the documentation and talking with Magnus” Rodimus grins like a child as he fist bumps the air. The Ambassador lets Megatron put them down on the ground before turning back to the mechs. 

"Well I'm happy to do the tour and help Luna Whistler do the formal introduction if you two are alright with seeing Magnus." They hum, "Please try to keep Rodimus out of trouble Megatron" they call back while motioning for Luna whistler to walk with them.

Megatron watched them go with a long-suffering vent. Keeping Rodimus from mischief was akin to harnessing a plasma storm -taxing work with results constantly escaping one's grasp. once they had departed. Turning, he fixed Rodimus with a stern glower. Rodimus shoots him another awkward smile only for Megatron to shake his helm. He hands off the sodium citrum cubes to Rodimus. “How your Intake hasn't rusted is beyond my knowledge” he huffs, only for Rodimus to thank him as he shoves one of the cubes into his intake. 

The crew had all gathered in the Cantina after their adventures, they would be taking off again in the next cycle, so most of them had gathered within their groups, showing off what they had bought, traded or won. But it's Swerve who's optics fall on the ambassador and the new Seeker doctor. As the unlikely pair passed, chatter rose among the gathered crew. Megatron watched with veiled amusement as envious fields permeated the room. 

"Something about organics, I swear!" Swerve huffed, polishing a glass with needless vigour. "Mingle once and Mechs can't get enough of them!, who even is the new pair of wings?"

Brainstorm nodded sagely. "Pheromones, is what I've summarised to Swerve, we cybertronian seem to almost be drawn to them like scraplets to metal" He hums while re reading some of the new source Material he had gathered over the new Iacon record information. “Swerve, take a look at this” he states while handing the holo over for the barkeep. The minibot lets out a small whistle.

 “that more photos of Shockwave's human from before the war. If I hadn't known the ruthless scientist Shockwave, I'd almost believe he was in love with them” he remarks only for Skids to grab the holo to take a look. “Bismuth on a shimmer grown, Swerve that mech must have spark bonded them, you don't just give someone ceremonial bismuth. I knew Shockwave once, he's nothing like the Emputra mech you know now” there's slight sorrow in his voice as he hands the holo back to Brainstorm. 

Rodimus leaned against the bar, field pulsing in distaste, his spoiler flattening as he watched Luna Whistler and the Ambassador. “Just because I said they could join the crew didn't mean I wanted them getting all chummy with the Ambassador” he huffs only for Swerve to chuckle as he places a drink in front of Rodimus. 

"Honestly Roddy, one chat and they're sparkmates" Nautica says trying to rile him up, the others shoot her a look, Skids snickers as he gives her a nudge. "Organics form bonds so quickly. If only your charms worked half as well." Skids joins in on the teasing. 

Rodimus huffed, trying and failing to appear nonchalant. "One bot's not enough for the ambassador, huh?" It makes Swerve cackle as Drift makes his way over to join the group. “Drift not often you here, normally you're off with Ratchet?” Ambulon asked curiously. 

Drift makes himself comfortable running a servo over Rodimus' helm. “Ratchet's spending some time with Traxies, don't want to intrude on that” he hums, giving Swerve a nod in thanks as his own drink is set in front of him. “ this one isn't energex?” he asked. “no, no. I know you're not a fan of it, got a batch of En-no while we were stopped since there's a few of you who aren't interested in the side effects of the Energex or high grade” he states with a smile. 

“Look at that Rodimus looks like he's going to cry, shame you didn't get in sooner, your favourite little squishy is getting scooped up by a seeker” Whirl teases only for Cyclonus to give the helemech a slap up the side of the helm. "Give it a rest, Whirl. They're just talking, I'm sure the Ambassador is showing them around and telling them where everything is." Tailgate states which have Whirl optic zooming in. “Awww got a thing for the ambassador too, Tails are Cyclonus and I not enough for you” Whirl states dramatically while leaning over the bar. 

“Shame tho, might have to see if Nadia is interested, she seemed to be eyeing Swerve up the other night” Smokescreen hums, which gets multiple looks from the others. “What I'm just saying!,  you guys are all worked up over the Ambassador when Nadia has made it quite clear she's interested” he states 

Megatron's optics gleam in amusement as he watches the group squabble between themselves. Megatron rumbled a chuckle, field flickering dry entertainment as he watched the Captain sulk. Listening to the chatter that rose among the crew. His optics move to watch the Ambassador as they laugh and chat with Luna whistler. He can feel a small pinch of jealousy Well up inside of himself. He pushes it aside as Magnus makes his way over to the table he's sat at. 

Megatron's optics linger on the Ambassador, their laughter carrying across the room as they converse animatedly with Luna Whistler. He feels a tightness in his spark, an ache he can't quite name. The way their eyes light up, the gentle curve of their smile - it stirs something within him he thought long buried.

He shifts in his seat, trying to focus on Magnus approaching, but his gaze keeps drifting back to the Ambassador. Megatron imagines what it would be like to be the one making them laugh, to have their full attention and warmth directed at him. The longing surprises him with its intensity.

As Magnus sits down, Megatron nods in acknowledgment, but his processor is elsewhere. He wonders what it would feel like to have the Ambassador's hand in his, to share quiet moments away from the chaos of the ship. The jealousy he pushed aside earlier resurfaces, mingling with a deep-seated desire for connection.

Megatron realises he craves more than just the Ambassador's friendship and respect. He yearns for their affection, their touch, their presence. Ultra Magnus turns his attention to Megatron, though not without briefly glancing over at the Ambassador. 

"It seems our Ambassador is quite popular this evening, Thats the new medic you were talking about?" Magnus remarks casually to Megatron. "It's good to see them engaging so positively with the crew." Megatron nods, trying his best to keep his focus on Magnus. "Though I must admit, I was surprised when they chose to accompany you on the supply run earlier. You two seem to be forging quite the partnership." There's no accusation in Magnus's tone, just a simple observation. But Megatron shifts in his seat, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "I value their insights." 

Magnus smiles. "As do we all. Still, I am pleased to see you both getting along so well." He takes a sip from his fuel container. "The Ambassador certainly seems to enjoy your company."

Megatron glances back over at the Ambassador, optics lingering once again. 

"So you said you spend time on earth, where did you end up?" They ask rather interested in any information Luna whistler was willing to share. The Seeker was rather polite and so far the Ambassador was glad to see another mech show as more level headed than a lot of the crew. 

Luna Whistler's wing panels fluttered thoughtfully. "I spent some time in Sweden. I worked as a doctor for a small group of neutrals when we got stuck on earth. The landscapes there prove quite beautiful. Remote forests were a favourite of mine vastly different from the colony I was from," he began gently. "Your planet is very beautiful, strange but beautiful" 

"Nature documentaries, wow, what a charmer," Brainstorm huffed, polishing his drink quickly before narrowing his optics as he watched them. Twitching slightly as the two continue their conversation, obvious to the optics on them. 

Bluestreak groused quietly, "Next he'll recite poetry. Just you wait, they'll be pen pals forever." That makes Cyclonus let out a small chuckle as he watches them, his own drink slowly going to his processor. 

Even Rodimus' famed charm seemed outshone. He clenched his fist, biting back a pout. "He's making them laugh." He mumbles optics flicking back to his drink. “Roddy perhaps if you had actually talked to them instead of making it a point of them having to clean up your mess, I'm sure they are just getting to know each other” 

Ravage rolled his optics, clipping Rodimus' helm with his tail. "Give it a rest. No need to be jealous over them talking."

 One of the crew from what Luna Whistler can tell catches his optics, causing him to pause his sentence as he watches them follow a orange and white mech around. The ambassador smiles as they watch the way the seekers' wings twitch in interest.  "Something caught your optics Whistler?" They tease, watching the way the seeker goes rigid and looks away. A nervous flutter arose in Luna Whistler's vocals, optics drifted. He vented softly, giving his plating a self-conscious shuffle. 

"Apologies, I didn't mean to become distracted. It's just..." His gaze flicked once more to the mech in question, wings twitching tellingly. Shyness gripped him then, his field shrinking in on itself protectively. 

The Ambassador's smile turned kindly. "His name is Traxies, he's friends with Rodimus,  but I'm sure he'd be delighted to meet a new mech, he doesn't get out much due to his sire being rather protective" they explain softly their eyes focusing on Traxies. “I take it the Orange and white mech is his sire?” he asked softly only for the ambassador to chuckle. 

“No, Ratchet is more like his mentor but he cares alot about Traxies, but I'd say get to know him, he needs more mechs around his age to interact with, he's been very cut off from socialising” they state, not planning on telling the seeker who Traxies Sire was just yet less it scare the doctor off from becoming friends. 

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