#help amber recover

[inkskinned]

maybe if you had been made right, you would be better at being alone. if you'd assembled yourself out of the particulate, coagulating into amber and diamond - you'd be lovely and desirable. instead of pewter and hungry and anxious.

when she doesn't text you back, you should be normal about that. you should shrug and move on and get back to your beautiful life and your wonderful dog. when you wake up shaking, don't call her, don't beg for her attendance. if someone says i love you, aren't you supposed to feel warm and held and gentle. what is wrong with you that your first instinct is to reject: no, you don't, not really.

what is wrong with you. asking for help from your friends and loved ones is supposed to be a moment of connection and vulnerability. instead you spend hours preparing and weeks recovering. you've done all the reading and you know you are supposed to accept-love-as-it-is presented.

but still the internal questions, litany of the prey animal. do you still love me. am i still attractive. do you care about my interests. am i boring you. are you becoming distant. are you going to leave me. do you like me or are you just managing. am i telling you too much. am i bothering you. do you want me there. am i embarrassing you.

the problem is that your prayers have been right before. you loved someone and they hurt you and now the words sluice against the floorboards no matter how tightly you lock the door. you go to therapy and try to trust and try to be kind and try to assume the best. that everyone is honest and loyal. that you can be happy and alone and miss her but still feel easy, at-home.

it feels like waving a flag in front of a sinking ship. you hold up the scripture and research, preaching: i can do this. i am not going to let my insecurities and fears ruin another relationship.

all of the drowning passengers have your face. they try to say i told you so. i told you this is what ends up happening. their voices are swallowed by the water and the deep below.

[grandline-fics]

Healing Hands

DESCRIPTION: When old wounds hurt, you’re there to help ease the pain

WARNINGS: brief mention of pain, nothing explicit.

CHARACTERS: Law

WORDS: 674

A/N: A little hurt and comfort for the weekend. Hope you're all having a good weekend and that you enjoy the fic

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST | PROMPT LIST

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He may have been cured completely of the Amber Lead Syndrome but the residual effects of what had once threatened his life still lingered. Most of the times when he was affected it was his lungs, his airways constricting painfully and spreading through his ribs and back. While his bad days were a rarity, when they hit it was hard to disguise his pain. Out of stubbornness and refusing to burden his crew with his suffering, Law tended to shut himself away until he felt more himself. By now the crew knew how to handle the increased workload shared amongst them but this was a first for you. Even with you being on Law’s crew for a while, this had never happened before and it had never been mentioned as something to expect. So when your Captain hadn’t shown up in the morning breakfast and debrief you’d grown concerned. 

“Captain’s just having an off day, he’ll be fine.” Penguin reassured you with a smile. “It happens sometimes, until he’s ready to join us we need to do our part.” You had no issue with the extra work, if anything you gladly accepted the extra responsibility. What you didn’t like was that Law had never let you know about his problems. While your relationship with him had only just begun to edge into one that would be considered romantic, you still thought he counted you as a good enough friend. Why did you have to be the only one on the crew to not already know about this kind of thing happening?

When you finished your tasks you made something for Law to eat and brought it to his private room. You knocked on the door before entering. To see him lying in bed and not sat at his desk already told you just how bad it was. Closing the door behind you, you approached and set the tray of food on his bedside table, from the tremor in his body and pain evident in his eyes you could tell he wasn’t in the mood to eat just yet. “Where hurts?” 

“Lungs…my back.” Law mumbled out, too exhausted and sore to pretend or protest he was fine, another clear sign to you he was in bad shape. “I’ll be fine in a day or two, it doesn’t happen much but I’m used to it.” Even now he was doing his best to put your worries at ease. With a shake of your head you kicked off your shoes and stepped around to the other side of his bed and climbed on top of the covers, shuffling over until you were sitting beside Law’s head. When he went to turn and face you, you placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him, silently signalling him to let you help. When you were certain he wouldn’t move, you placed your hands on his back and slowly began to massage into his sore body. 

You fought a small smile to see Law’s body relax a little into the feeling of your touch, glad that it was bringing some sort of relief to his discomfort. You watched him slowly roll onto his stomach for you to continue your soothing motions and you felt your bond with him begin to grow even more. Surprise lit your eyes when he reached back to wrap his arm around your waist. It didn’t stop there because your boyfriend turned his head and all but nuzzled himself closer against your lap causing your hands to hesitate. When you stopped, Law’s eyes opened and his dimmed golden gaze observed you questioningly. You recovered your momentary surprise to smile at him and continue to massage into his back. “You’re like a cat sometimes you know that?” You teased, grinning to see him scowl at you but made no move to retaliate or leave the feeling of your hands. All he could do was make a mental note to get you back when he was recovered, but thanks to you he was feeling better already.

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TAG LIST (If I've missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa

[fluentmoviequoter]

Truth Serum

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!cop!reader

Summary: While searching for an abducted child, you and Tim are abducted and injected with truth serum.

Warnings: fluff, angst, child abduction, drugging, Tim and reader make out while working

Word Count: 2.6k+ words

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“Bradford,” Wade calls over the radio. “We got an anonymous tip about the AMBER alert. The caller said a car matching the alert description was parked outside the Los Angeles Memorial Sports Arena.”

“We’re responding,” Tim replies. “Why the arena?” he asks you.

“It wouldn’t be very busy this time of day. Stay low there until there’s a crowd tonight and disappear with them,” you hypothesize. “Or something happened, and they had to stop.”

Tim nods as he turns on the shop’s lights. He doesn’t want to alert the abductor that the police are coming, but he needs to get there fast. Once you find the car, you’re a step closer to recovering the kidnapped child. The AMBER alert is several hours old, and the longer it takes, the more your chances of finding the child healthy and alive diminish.

“Take the next left,” you tell Tim. “If we can get in the back way, they shouldn’t see us coming.”

Tim takes your advice without argument, which surprises you. Calls with kids are some of the hardest, but when you know one’s in danger, everything changes. Part of what makes Tim such a good cop is his ability to separate his emotions, but the moment you got the AMBER alert notification, he tightened his grip on the wheel and told dispatch to let you and him patrol for the car.

“There it is,” Tim murmurs as he stops behind a partial wall in the parking lot.

The silver sedan you’ve spent the morning hunting for waits in a parking spot as if it’s just a normal day. You can’t see signs of anyone in the car, and Tim opens his door quietly and steps out. As you open your door, you notice something under the sedan less than 100 yards from you.

“Tim, it’s a trap,” you say quickly.

He turns toward you and gestures for you to get back in the car, but the car explodes, and you’re slung back against the shop before you take another step. You reach toward Tim where he lays behind you, but a booted foot kicks your hand away.

“Time to serve and protect,” the man standing above you says.

He drops a wet rag on your face, and you lose consciousness before you realize it’s not water.

 “Hey, c’mon,” Tim whispers.

He jostles your wrist with his fingertips as he demands you talk to him. When you realize that he’s asking for a response, you squeeze your eyes closed and grunt. Tim takes it as enough of a sign that you’re still alive and stops talking.

“Where are we?” you ask, blinking slowly. “Are you tied up?”

“Welcome back,” Tim murmurs grumpily. “You don’t handle chloroform very well.”

“My bad,” you reply sarcastically. “Have they been back?”

“No.”

“How mad are you?”

Tim makes a sound that you take as a sign to stop talking. For someone so eager to hear your voice a moment ago, your questions changed his mind quickly. Behind you, metal scrapes as a door opens. You hear heavy footsteps and assume that it’s the man who knocked you out.

“Glad to see you’re both feeling better. Need those minds as sharp and clear as we can get them,” he says. “I’m George.”

“And I’m the man in yellow,” you reply under your breath.

“Cute,” George murmurs. “You’re just here to help. If you found the car, you know about the kid.”

“The kid you abducted?” Tim asks.

“Details, details… Either you start telling me what you know, or I beat it out of your friend here.”

Tim’s fingers press against your wrist as he flexes beneath his restraints. George laughs, and you turn your neck painfully in an attempt to see him.

“You’ll get a turn,” George promises when he notices your movement. “If neither of you is feeling talkative, perhaps you need some courage.”

George walks around Tim, and you track him as he stops before you. He’s larger than he seemed in the parking lot. As he smiles down at you, you relax. If he thinks you’re intimidated, he has you where he wants you.

“Do you want to tell me anything?” George asks.

“Your right boot is scuffed,” you answer. “Little saddle soap would buff it right out.”

George clenches his jaw as he reaches into his pocket. He withdraws a syringe, and your eyes widen as you push back against the chair you’re tied to. His smile grows as he reaches for your forearm.

“Don’t,” you demand. “Don’t touch me.”

Tim moves behind you, but there’s nothing he can do to help.

“Don’t worry, Officer Bradford,” George calls. “You’ll get a turn too.”

George slides the needle under your skin and looks directly into your eyes as he depresses the syringe. He pulls the used needle out and tosses it into the corner of the room. After he pats your arm, he returns to Tim’s side.

“What was that? What is it?” you demand, pulling against your restraints.

A bead of blood appears on the surface of the skin. Tim is likely being injected too, but you need to know what George is pumping into you.

“Back up,” Tim growls from behind you.

“Gladly,” George answers. “To answer your question, sodium thiopental. Enjoy the next few minutes of control.”

As the door slams behind George, you exclaim, “Truth serum?”

“It doesn’t work,” Tim says.

“Yeah,” you agree. “But this idiot doesn’t know that.”

“And you want to pretend it does?” Tim questions. “For what?”

“He gets fed up and tells us what he knows… I hope.”

Tim hums and his fingers press against your skin. “Let’s try it.”

“Hello again,” George says as he returns.

“Hi,” you blurt out.

“So glad to hear some excitement. We’ll start easy. Why are you here?”

“Because we’re cops and someone said the AMBER alert car was here,” Tim answers.

“Oh, so grumpy does speak,” George muses happily. “In that case...”

George grabs the side of your chair and spins it quickly. You’re beside Tim now; his arm is pressed to yours and you can look at him without straining. The plan is working already.

“Glad you’re okay,” Tim tells you.

“Not the truth we’re looking for,” George interrupts. “Tell me, what do the police think?”

“Lots of things,” you answer. “You-“ you interrupt yourself off with a giggle – “you have to be more specific.”

“Where do they think the kid is?” George clarifies.

“With the bad guy,” Tim says. “The guy who drives the silver sedan… Did you steal it?”

“Do they have a name, a face? Who is the suspect?” George is getting agitated, exactly as you hoped.

“A face...” you repeat. You look toward Tim and say, “You… you have the prettiest face ever. I want to marry you.”

Tim takes the confession in stride, likely assuming that you’re still playing I’m high on sodium thiopental.

“You’re the best partner I’ve ever had,” Tim replies, leaning toward you.

“Listen!” George demands. He places his hand over your jaw to direct your face toward his. “Where is the kid?”

“The kid?” you ask, your voice distorted by his grip on your face.

“Mmhmm. Where did they take him?”

George releases your face, and you stretch your jaw out as you turn toward Tim.

“Kids… Tim, I want to have your babies. You’d have pretty babies. And smart babies.”

Tim nods along, but there’s a faraway look in his eyes that you don’t recognize. He’s either playing up the truth serum bit, or something else is happening. George slaps the side of your face before he storms out of the room. You smile at Tim, despite the deepening hand print covering your jaw.

“Pretty and smart babies?” Tim asks.

“You weren’t giving me anything to work with,” you point out with a shrug.

“I like listening.”

“Well, it is truth serum,” you murmur.

When George returns, he shoves a picture in your face.

“My son, where did they take him?” he demands.

“Son?” you and Tim ask together.

“Oh!” you exclaim when you see the picture. “George, listen, we can help. But you have to let us go.”

“Why would I do that? You people are the reason he’s gone!”

“George,” you repeat softly. “We know that the man who reported his abduction is really his stepfather, and half of the LAPD is looking for your son, but we don’t know where he is yet.”

“He never would’ve disappeared if you hadn’t taken him away from me!”

“Then let me help,” you implore.

George stares at you for a few seconds before he nods. He cuts your restraints and steps back as you stand. You pull Tim’s handcuffs from his belt as you move, just in case.

“Let’s go,” he commands.

You shake your head and point to Tim. “Both of us.”

“No,” George answers. “Help me and I’ll let you come back to get him later. We’re going.”

George grabs your arm and shoves you harshly toward the door. You could fight back, but without Tim to back you up, it would go poorly fast.

“Tim, I’ll be back,” you promise.

“Be careful,” he mouths silently.

You nod and hold his eyes until the door closes. As you follow George through the underground tunnel, you watch him closely.

“Dad!” someone yells deeper in the tunnel.

“George,” you say lowly. “What did you do?”

“He’s my son!” George bellows.

He turns toward you with your gun aimed at your chest. You raise your hands and maintain eye contact with him.

“This doesn’t end well for you,” you tell him. “What was the goal?”

“His stepdad is looking for him,” George explains. “I can’t lose my son again.”

“So… what?”

“You would bring him here, lure that monster here, and I would save my son!”

“George, it doesn’t work like that. You kill his stepdad, you injure me or my partner, and you go to prison. So that little boy in there still loses you. You’re stuck, George.”

“No!” he yells. “No, I have the gun and my son.”

“And when you have to run? You drag him with you?”

“I- we-“

“You didn’t think that far?” you guess. “You don’t get out of this, George. Not like this.”

“Dad!” his son yells again.

“He needs you right now. If you let me go, surrender, and return that little boy to his mother-“

“The court takes him again.”

“But you still get to see him. What’s better, George? Taking him from everything he loves or seeing him when it’s good for him?”

The gun falters in George’s hand, and when he begins to lower it, you surge forward. As your shoulder collides with his chest, you pull your gun from his grip. It fires into the tunnel as you wrestle George to the ground. The moment you push him to the concrete and secure your cuffs on him, George begins crying.

“Save the tears for your court date,” you respond. “Where’s my radio? My phone?”

George shakes his head, and you sigh in exasperation. You pull his shoulders to help him into a seated position against the concrete wall.

“Stay here,” you demand. George nods vehemently, and you ask, “Where’s your son?”

“Third door on the left,” he answers through sniffles.

You walk to the third door and open it carefully. The little boy runs to you and hugs your legs as he rambles about how his father took him from his mom’s house and won’t tell him anything.

“It’s okay, buddy,” you assure him. “Here, can you hold my handcuffs? I need someone to keep them ready until I come back.”

He nods and accepts the handcuffs. As he sits on the thin mattress behind him and toys with the mechanical lock, you return to the main tunnel. George doesn’t speak as you pass him, nor when you take the knife from his side.

You open the door to the room where Tim is waiting and step inside. He looks up quickly and blows out a large breath. His jaw tightens quickly, and you notice blood running down his left hand.

“George is in cuffs outside,” you say. You squat before Tim and begin cutting his restraints. “And his son is fine. Babysitting your cuffs at the moment.”

You set the knife aside and focus on gently freeing Tim's bloodied wrist, oblivious to how he watches you. His skin has been scraped raw from tugging against the rope to get out and get to you. He heard the gunshot and assumed the worst, then you came in like nothing happened.

The moment Tim is free, you stand and offer a hand to him. Tim knocks your hand out of the way as he stands. You begin to ask him if he’s okay, but his hands rise to your shoulders, his thumbs against the pillar of your neck. Before you finish the question, Tim presses himself closer to you and kisses you. You blink in surprise but melt into his affection quickly. As you slide your arms over his shoulder and move with Tim, you wonder how much of his action is adrenaline and if there’s anything in this that he means.

“Officer?” George’s son calls down the tunnel.

You step back and Tim drops his hands to your waist.

“That was…” you begin.

“Truth serum,” Tim finishes. “Let’s go.”

He brushes past you, trailing his right hand over your waist. Outside, he leads George out as you carry his son back into the sunlight. The young boy clings to you, and you comfort him as Tim uses the radio in the shop to alert dispatch and request backup.

“Where’s our stuff?” Tim asks George as he shoves him against the dented back door.

“Threw it in here,” George mumbles against the glass.

“He may be a kidnapper, but he’s no thief,” you murmur.

“You see those dents?” Tim asks lowly, so George’s son doesn’t hear. “Those were made when you tried to kill two cops. All of this for a little boy you’re never going to see again.”

George begins crying again, and Tim rolls his eyes as he looks away. Tim may be good at hiding his emotions on the job, but you know better than anyone that he still feels them and feels them deeply.

The first of many patrol cars pulls into the parking lot, and you nod at Tim before you’re pulled away in the hectic moments that follow your heroic recovery.

You knock on the door once, then pull your hands behind your back. Part of you expects that the door will remain closed, but Kojo barks as Tim opens the door.

“Hi,” you greet, rocking back on your heels. “I- uh- I just wanted to thank you for everything today.”

“Come in,” Tim invites.

You walk past him, remembering what it felt like to have his hands on you and his lips against yours. As you turn back to Tim, he steps into your space.

“Was any of it true?” he asks.

“It’s called truth serum for a reason,” you whisper.

Tim fails to hide his smile as he says, “Then you think I have a pretty face?”

“The prettiest ever,” you agree.

“And you want to have my babies.”

“I’m pretty sure I said I wanted to get married first,” you point out happily.

Tim’s hands raise toward your face, but he stops when he sees the bruise along your jaw. You catch his left arm and kiss his bandage, the injury underneath caused by concern for you.

“I was going to say I love you,” you murmur. “But I didn’t think you’d believe me.”

“It’s truth serum. I wanted to believe it all,” Tim answers.

“Then kiss me again,” you request softly.

Tim does exactly as you ask, takes your face gently between his hands, and kisses you. It’s just as shocking and enlivening as the first time, and you smile against his lips because it was true. It was all true.

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

You can do Xianyun, Amber, Sucrose, Kokomi and Klee visiting a Y/N in the hospital? They ended up getting into combat and ended up getting seriously injured, by the way.

(Genshin Impact) Xianyun, Xinyan, Amber, Sucrose, Kokomi, and Klee visiting an injured Reader

Klee's will be the only platonic one, (obviously).

Xianyun enters the room and her sight immediately lands on S/O laying on the bed, covered in bandages.

(Xianyun) "There you are! One has heard what happened to you."

(S/O) "Xianyun! S-Sorry to worry you-"

She shakes her head as she pulls up a chair, one hand adjusting her glasses.

(Xianyun) "Apologies are not needed. Knowing that you are still breathing brings me enough comfort. Now...-"

She immediately has a strange device materialize next to her, pressing buttons seemingly at random.

(S/O) "What the heck is that?"

(Xianyun) "One assumed that you would be bored waiting for your injuries to recover, so I have brought you this machine for you to pass the time!"

The machine rumbled for a few moments before a loud ding accompanied it and promptly fell silent.

(Xianyun) "It is a popped corn machine! Now, take some and tell One exactly what happened!"

S/O smiled and grabbed a floating piece of popcorn.

(S/O) "Promise you won't laugh? It's a little embarassing."

Xianyun gives S/O a smile back.

(Xianyun) "One makes no such promises."

In reality, she was worried sick, but hearing them joke around like this was slowly easing her fears.

Xinyan swings the door open quickly, almost accidentally making a hole in the wall from the knob.

(Xinyan) "S/O! Are ya here?!"

(S/O) "AGH! Y-You scared me, Xinyan!"

She rushes over to the bed before taking them into a hug, hearing them wince in pain and retracting.

(Xinyan) "Jeez, you're the one scaring me! How do ya think I felt, hearin' you got hurt enough to be hospitalized?!"

S/O gives Xinyan's hand a reassuring squeeze, making her calm down at least a little.

(S/O) "I'm sorry, I wish I could've told you sooner, but I was pretty roughed up."

She gives a big sigh before sitting on the bed and turning to them.

(Xinyan) "So, what in the world happened? What the heck beat the tar outta ya?"

(S/O) "You're not gonna believe me if I told you."

(Xinyan) "Try me."

(S/O) "...I-It was a boar."

(Xinyan) "..."

Xinyan has to fight back laughter, more than she ever had her entire life.

Amber opens the door quietly and gives a smile to S/O, her heart finally easing in its rapid beating when she sees they're okay.

(Amber) "Hey!"

(S/O) "Ow...! H-Hey, Amber."

She moves a little slower than usual, which gets S/O's attention.

(S/O) "Amber, you alright?"

(Amber) "Hah, I should be the one asking that..."

She takes a deep breath and gives a bright smile back.

(Amber) "I was just SUPER worried! The other Sisters told me you'd be stable but...-"

S/O extended their arms outward and let Amber come into their embrace, giving her a warm hug.

(S/O) "I'm sorry, Amber, but don't you worry. I'm not going anywhere. I bet you want to hear what happened, huh?"

(Amber) "You bet I do, now what hurt you?"

(S/O) "...A slime."

Amber's face seemingly freezes in place.

(Amber) "WHAT?!"

As much as her voice startled them, there was the energy S/O loved Amber for.

Sucrose was already aware S/O was hurt and visited them before.

But the reason for her visit was different than last time.

She stumbled into the room, a myriad of different small flasks in her arms.

S/O moved to help Sucrose, but she managed to sit them down at a nearby table.

(S/O) "Sucrose, what are all those?"

(Sucrose) "Um, I-It's a bunch of different elixirs that'll help you recover faster! I hope..."

(S/O) "Have...these been tested?"

Sucrose nodded her head yes.

(Sucrose) "They have, I tested them on a bunch of plants just yesterday and some slimes!"

(S/O) "Hah, am I test subject now?"

Sucrose's eyes widened and was about to stammer out a response before S/O held out a hand.

(S/O) "Sorry, couldn't resist teasing. Thank you for thinking of me, Sucrose."

A light flush dusted her cheeks as she shyly smiled back.

(Sucrose) "...Of course!"

Kokomi creates a tiny fish that nuzzles against S/O's face, making them laugh.

(S/O) "Hello to you too, Kokomi."

Kokomi giggles in response before sitting down in a chair closeby to them.

(Kokomi) "Gorou told me what happened, and I made time as fast as I could."

(S/O) "Honestly? I'm surprised you could at all, given how busy the Shrine is these days."

She shakes her head and gently caresses their cheek.

(Kokomi) "For someone I love? I always can."

Despite her calm demeanor, the moment she was hit with news of S/O getting injured decreased her energy by about -10000.

But, seeing them again increased it, and she spends every second she's free with them.

Kokomi even brings some books for them to read together, if anything to at least alleviate the boredom S/O must be having laying there.

A Knight kindly opens the door for Klee as she walks into (Y/N)'s room.

(Klee) "Mister/Miss (Y/N)!"

(Y/N) "Klee? What are you doing here?"

Klee hops over to their bed, her head barely poking over the mattress.

(Klee) "Master Jean told me that you got hurt beating up a bunch of bad guys! So, I wanted to have Jumpty Dumpty keep you company!"

A feeling of dread started to wash over (Y/N).

That was a good way to make sure their injuries became fatal.

(Y/N) "A-Ah! That's alright Klee, you didn't need to-"

Klee happily puts the Jumpty Dumpty into their arms, smiling widely at her own gift.

(Klee) "This one doesn't go kaboom, so Jumpty Dumpty can help you get better!"

Y/N took a sigh of relief internally, and instead dusted the top of Jumpty Dumpty's head.

(Y/N) "Aw, thank you, Klee!" For not killing me...

(Klee) "Uh-huh! I have to go back to my room now, but I hope I can play with you soon!"

(Y/N) waved goodbye to Klee before noticing she sneakily left a note near their bed.

It was incredibly crude handwriting, with a few of the words misspelled but it said:

"Don't tell Master Jean, but I got you some tasty fish! It's hiding with Kaeya!"

(Y/N) smiled at the note and shook their head.

(Y/N) "Hah, what a sneaky kid..."

And of course, Jean found out anyway.

[thetinyadventurer]

"Let's go home."

It's Milo outside, shivering and soaking wet, and looking absolutely miserable, like the whole world has taken turns kicking him, and then doing it againonce he's down. Like he might cry if he isn't already doing so. His glasses are set crooked, so he probably is barely able to see, and thus, he probably doesn't know where he is.

“Oh, my god, Milo!”

I sprint outside so quickly that I don’t even bother putting on my boots. All I’ve got in hand is an umbrella which I struggle to open as I shuffle down the street.

“Milo!” I call out as I run up to him, managing to open the umbrella just in time.

I raise the umbrella up above his head, shielding him from the rain. I have to stand on my tiptoes as I reach up and remove his glasses. I haphazardly use the hem of my shirt to clean off his glasses before gently placing them back on his face. I get how hard it is to see with water-logged glasses as I wear glasses, myself. I don’t even think twice before I grab Milo’s shaking hand.

“Let’s go home.” I murmur, softly as I pull him towards my apartment building, keeping the umbrella above our heads. I squeeze his hand gently for good measure. I know how it feels to be alone and miserable. Milo’s such a sweet, kind-hearted soul and even though I can’t carry his problems for him, I can damn well make them lighter! He would have done the same for me, after all.

I guide him up the stairs and into my apartment building. It’s small for an apartment in Washington DC in the early 1900’s but I do my best to make it feel welcoming. The ivory walls are tinted amber from the lamp-light and the crackling fireplace gives off much needed warmth.

I pull Milo into the bathroom and gesture for him to sit on the edge of the tub.

“I’ll be right back.” I say as I sprint into my bedroom where I rummage through the dresser until I find what I’m looking for: A cozy pair of pajamas, a big, fluffy towel and a pair of socks that an ex of mine forgot to reclaim after we broke up. They’re big enough that they should fit him. I hurry back to the bathroom and gently place the clothes and towel on the edge of the sink.

“These might be a little big on you but they’re better than nothing.” I comment before turning back to him, looking him in the eyes.

I reach out and gently squeeze his shoulder— A simple gesture to reassure him that I’m there for him and that he’s not alone, anymore.

“Take a bath to warm yourself up.” I instruct. “You can put your wet clothes in the sink and I’ll hang them up to dry. Don’t worry about the water, I can clean it up later. There’s some bubble bath here if you like scented things and a rubber ducky to keep you company. His name is George. Feel free to take as much time as you need, okay? When you’re done, dry off and put on these pajamas. Then meet me in the living room. I’ll make us some hot chocolate with extra marshmallows!”

I give him a brief but tight hug. “You don’t have to tell me what happened if you don’t want to but please know that I’m here for you if you need me. If you need to cry then cry, I won’t judge. If you need to vent to me, I’ll listen. As for advice, well, I’m a shitty advice-giver but I’ll do the best I can to help out. Just do whatever you need to do to feel better, okay?”

I stand up and walk towards the door. “I’ll give you some privacy. Call me if you need anything, okay?”

I give him one last smile before shutting the door behind me. I crack my knuckles.

“Okay, time to make some hot chocolate and chicken noodle soup!” I announce to the empty air.

Milo can take all the time he needs to recover. As long as he’s happy and doesn’t catch a cold, I’ll do whatever it takes to help him out. And if I find out who made him cry I’m calling my neighbor, Helga Sinclair, to go kick their asses.

//Sorry that was so long! Thank you for the first ask. Not sure how I did but I hope you like it!//

[artethyst]

~ Leaves In A Sky Full Of Stars ~

Eris Vanserra x Rhysand’s Sister! OC/Reader

Little Silas Vanserra had Eris vowing to never have anymore children.

He thanked the Mother that his daughter was a little angel- still at the age where she wanted to be carried everywhere, snuggled peacefully in an adult’s arms.

Her pale hair and violet ringed autumnal eyes reminding him so much of the woman he loved.

Her older brother was the complete opposite.

He wondered if this was his punishment, a cruel joke played upon him by the Gods for having such a carefree life since his father died and reminding him that he needed to keep his faltered guard up.

And that’s how he felt in the early hours of the morning, with little hands patting at his face and excited little feet hopping on the oak floors of his bedroom.

Tired.

He cracked one amber eye open- unceremoniously meeting a matching golden flecked iris, one full of wonder and guiltlessness, as he supposed his own once were.

He closed it as quickly as it had opened, letting a wry smirk take over his ostensibly lazed features.

“Daddyyyy I know you’re awake-“ the little boy began incredulously before shrieking in glee as Eris swooped him onto his chest with ease, tickling his son mercilessly as his Mate softly slept beside him.

After the boy had relented, his rounded cheek flushed with the childish mirth of giggles, Eris couldn’t help but chuckle to himself at the boy’s wild red locks.

As expected the boy’s mother was still soundly asleep, Eris had always been a light sleeper, in fact having his Mate beside him and children down the hall only worsened the fact, even though his father was no longer a threat- to him or his loved ones, simply having them in such a place always had him on high alert.

Even though he had done his very best to rid the Autumn Court of longtime Advisors, the types of men that would love nothing more than to see the Night Court Princess with a Fae bane arrow through her much too large heart, he knew there was no good in him-undeserved of him in ever feeling content.

It had the opposite effect on his wife, who admittedly had never slept better than when she was in the comforting arms of her husband- the natural warmth emanating from him lulling her into such ecstasy she wished she never had to be cruelly ripped away from by the chill of the Autumn morning.

She had never really slept well in the Night Court, the pain of living there without her mother sister always too much to bear.

Eris was her new home.

Since having children- her body still not quite having recovered from their second and Eris insisting she get as much rest at she could, even the joyous squeals of her firstborn still wouldn’t- couldn’t make her budge.

“Daddy Uncle Lulu said you p-pwomised-“

“Promised,”

“Promised to show me m-my fire againnn!”

The boy was practically trembling with excitement, his father’s hands coming to steady him as his little body wriggled with joy, perched on his father’s raised knees who raised a slim digit to his smaller lips, reminding him to remain quiet as possible.

Not that it would have made a difference to the blissfully knocked out woman beside them.

“Did he now?” Eris withered, the thought of his brother- knowing just how much he treasured the few late mornings a High Lord might have, had told his son- who’s adorable little face noone could deny, that those small, valuable hours were reserved for “magic time”.

It took only a brief moment, a fleeting fall of Silas’ dimpled grin- his mother’s grin, to have the High Lord swinging his legs from the refuge of his silken sheets, his boy held firmly in his strong hands.

“Then I think it is best we get dressed appropriately, what do you say Little Flame?”

The boy simply cheered in response and Eris couldn’t help the grin on his own face at the feel of chubby hands around his neck in a makeshift embrace, carrying him down the hall as his son rattled on in half nonsensical toddler speak about how he was going to ‘beat his Uncle Lulu in a duel’.

~

The Maids cooed as the little Prince raced down the hall in his teeny tiny Autumnal uniform- gifted to him by his Aunty Elain who thought they were the cutest thing ever.

The boy stopped when he reached the top of the grand staircase, skidding to a halt with a nervous expression on his little face.

The same staircase his Mummy always carried him down, the same staircase he had been told to scoot down on his bottom in case he tripped, the same staircase she had been slowly helping him descend himself (holding his hand tightly and giving up halfway as he took nearly a whole minute per ten steps)

Eris watched him amusedly- a miserable jutted lip and a coy flush on his baby cheeks.

“Umm Daddy, M-Mummy said I am not s’pose to go down m-myself in case of ouchies…”

That was not what she had said.

“I thought you were a big boy now, hmm?” Eris teased as his son pouted, just as his mother would have.

“I-I am…” Silas’ point was refuted with the small grabby motions his little arms made to his father who looked down at him with a smirk.

“Do big boys get carried down the stairs?”

“Ummm…Yes?” The boy widened his glimmering autumnal eyes, “pleasies?”

And so with a roll of his eyes, all in good humour, Eris fastened his excitable son against his chest as they began to exit the grand estate, heading into the vast, luscious gardens where they would begin their training.

~

Lucien could only laugh when found his brother- sincere and unbridled joy dancing in his otherwise piercing gaze, watching his son chase after the little flames he made for him.

“Uncle Lulu!” The boy squealed, barrelling into the male who swung him atop his shoulders with ease.

“I’d be careful if I were you,” Eris warned, “he has quickly figured out how to control his magic, you might end up with that treasured hair of your singed at the root.”

Silas nodded furiously, his little feet hitting the floor as he flexed his small palm as proof, and to his pure wonder, delicate embers- faint as they were, twinkled at his will.

“Look Daddy! I did it! I did it!” Eris couldn’t help but chuckle softly as his son danced with not only with the little flicker he had mustered with his father’s help, but larger wistful wisps that flowed around him with delicate care.

Eris couldn’t help but feel his heart constrict, wishing nothing more than to give his children the childhood he had wanted- deserved.

He took one look at his son and wondered how anyone could ever hurt him, let alone do it himself.

He wondered what he had done to make his own father hate him so, vowing to never once make his own offspring feel even a fraction of the way he had.

For what seemed like hours Lucien and Eris entertained the little boy, sometimes engaging in a silent battle between one another who could impress the young heir the most.

Lucien eventually was called away and Eris wondered if his years were finally catching up to him, small burn marks littering his clothes from his son’s inexperienced hands and an ache in his legs from chasing after him.

After Silas’ giggles had dissipated along with his energy, Eris suggested they head back, the boy agreed sleepily, the thrum of magic still alive in his little body as Eris made a mental note to keep an eye on his budding powers.

“T-Thank you for giving me my fire,” Silas mumbled, stumbling over to his father “love you Daddy…”And as a pair of all too familiar amber eyes met the High Lord’s blurring own, he bent down and received his greatest gift in his trembling arms.

A reminder he would never be the man who had damned him, a reminder that he was a good man- a good man that was loved.

[darkdemeter]

☾ phases collection issue #3 WORST FUR WEATHER

⚤ Wanda Maximoff x GN/Female/Male Werewolf!Reader SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI — MxF version pairing — FxF version pairing — unprotected sex — P in V sex — profanity — pet names "Lamb", "Sweetheart", "Hon", "Baby", etc — (male) reader receiving — slight possessive reader — Hydra agent! reader — enemies/lovers — I think that's it? ✎ 4.6k Wanda is sent on a mission to recover data about Hydra's next big operation. However, she'll meet the guard dog of the information she needs. Lucky for her, red happens to be a very eye-catching colour, and for the price of indulgence, you let her have her data.

✎ ↳ MASTERLIST | ↳ TAGLISTS

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III.  Never seek to engage the attention of a wolf, be it in the calm amidst its frenzy or the horrors of its territorial obsession. For the lamb is incapable of warding off a hungry beast bound by its insatiable hunger and lust for violence. And wearing a tolling bell around one’s neck only attracts the monster. 

  Funny, how a golden bell is now adapted into a short, red dress.

  “Alright, Wanda. Just focus on your target, get the data and get out of there.” Natasha sounds urgent now, unlike before. She’d been calm before. Something’s changed in her tone, it’s beset by rising panic. 

  Wanda can’t help but be drawn into the whirlpool of fear herself. Her eyes dart around the lavish hall, eyeing each of the guests as if any one of them would engage her with a gun to her head or a knife to her gut. In reality, that possibility can very well happen. 

  “And whatever you do, stay away from—” Natasha’s cut out, the connection severed, a hand encircles around Wanda’s bare wrist. 

  “Care for a dance, little Lamb?” You spin her to face you. She’s dragged into the iron grip you possess, she’s powerless to the violent glow of amber. You watch her intently like a wolf on the hunt, lured in by the weakened state of your prey. A lone and lost lamb sent into the den of her enemy. A delightful treat. 

  Wanda stares upwards and right into the pressing stare you share, sharpened canines primed to tear into her, images of what someone - something - like you could do to her in the blink of an eye. And what she hates most of all is how complacent she is in your embrace, and how quickly she shrinks from escape, her bravery discouraged. 

  You lead her across the floor, entrapped in a dance, pinning her to you with no chance of running from you. Not that she’d get very far. The rhythm is paced stiffly, leaving her to rely on you to take the lead. 

  You twirl her, grasp firmly on her before you draw her back into you. “Quite the alluring dress. I’ve noticed quite a few eyes on you tonight,” you chuckle, “mine included.”

  “I hadn’t noticed,” she answers, voice soft and silken with her accent.

 You click your tongue, scoldingly. “It’s wise to always be aware of what’s happening around you, Lamb.” Your tone drifts further into a darker undertone, words alluding to sinister intentions. “Else you will never see the beast that stalks behind.”

  “I’ll take that into consideration.” She tries to move, to free herself, but you don’t loosen your hold of her. Your hand remains on the small of her back, lips pulled into a wolfish grin, eyes laced with lustful hunger. 

  “Why the rush? Scared of me?”

  “M-maybe,” she gulps in truth, “as you said, I should be wary of what goes on around me. I know this story very well.”

  You cock your head to the side a little, interest peaked by the risen curve of your brow. “Oh? Do regale me.”

  “Loved ones advise her to not engage with the wolf. To keep her head and path straight for her Grandmother’s home.”

  “Unless she was served to the wolf on a platter,” you interject sharply just as you dip her, her spine curves back into the support of your arm, her green eyes flash with a mixture of intrigue and terror. How the sight of her beneath you arouses you, your core stirring with the familiar tingle of desire. 

  “But that’s not how the story goes.” She reprimands you behind the daggered end of a glare, eyes scornful in your offset course as you both encircle one another, bodies practically melded together and hands locked and bound to each other.

  You spin her again, leading her forward from behind. “The story serves as a cautionary tale only. Many have disregarded the warning labels and found their way off the path. But I myself, as a wolf, don’t waste time about it. I want you, little Lamb, not the gut full of rocks in the end.” 

  “And I want the data.” She’s upfront about it and you’ll applaud her for that. The amber hue of your eyes strikes a cold, mysterious flame to dwindle in her core and she finds her heart rate quickening.

  “And you wouldn’t make it three feet into the office. Not without someone like me getting you there.” 

  “Why help me?” she huffs with a quizzical, narrowed gaze.

  “The better.”

  None had so much as batted an eye in the wake of your saunter, Wanda practically glued to your side the entire time, a few of the guards snickering and mumbling to themselves. Wanda tried to strain her ears to overhear their silent glimpses and hidden, murmuring smirks to no avail. Whatever it was, it sure made your chest puff out with pride. 

  Down the hall, Wanda sees the doors of the office open under the command of your whim, gesturing to her to venture inside the dimly lit room. 

  Her eyes find yours, gaze bearing the resemblance of her hesitance. 

  “Well?” you say with a raised brow. Humming softly and affirmatively, she steps a heeled foot and crosses the threshold and immediately, she feels the air shift. No longer haunted by the eerie, warm glow of the hallway, now her skin is caressed by the looming darkness and its shadowy presence that grazes over her shoulder and moves towards the desk. 

  She follows you and then stops, still caught in the reverie of her disbelief as you tap away at the locked case that opens to reveal a laptop. The encrypted data, kept under strict guard, now rests open for her. 

  There has to be a catch. Her stare says as much with scrutiny, only you lay your palms flat in surrender. 

  “The data is all there for you to collect. No tricks, none of that.” Is it wise to believe you? Wanda is caught between a rock and a hard place either way. 

  To entertain or obey, she steps forward, retrieving from the slip inside her dress between her breasts, she brings to light the usb drive. Your eyes roll between the action and device, whistling lowly to yourself. 

  Wanda has to ignore the way her skin grows hot and flushed under your eyes that watch her. Bending low, she inserts the drive in and begins to download the data and provides you with a more than satisfying view from behind. You hear her sighing quietly to herself when a red, transparent box indicating an error flashes onto the screen. Of course the security system would be triggered. 

  “No tricks, huh?” she chastises with a huff only to feel the heated scape of your front bend, stretching over her beck as you lean forward, long arms caging her below you. She watches silently, tongue darting out between her lips as she admires your fingers work nimbly and precisely against the keys, overriding the error and allowing the drive to continue downloading. 

  “Protection. I’m sure you understand.”

  FEMALE

  “Looks like that download will take a while,” you remark coolly. Wanda now lacks the pressure of your stature, breasts pushed firmly against her back she is left both disappointed and relieved. Her eyes remain trained on the laptop screen despite the sixth sense that your eyes watch her intently, or rather, the lovely view she provides from behind. 

  It’s hard to explain to her rational mind but there’s something about you that creeps Wanda with a prickling notion that no matter what, the trail of your gaze never seems to leave her; at least not for long. Your words circle back into her mind. The mention that many eyes had been on her tonight, yours included, she wonders if the wolf has become animalistically smitten with her. Bewitched by her little red dress. 

  Curious of where exactly you lingered, she turns her sights behind her, following the way you peer down at her, about a foot or so from her, she turns to face you. 

  “Something you like, Wolf?” She doesn’t grasp the identity of this newfound courage, incapable of finding its unknown source. All she does know is that her question has piqued your interest and engaged your merriment. 

  “Maybe,” you answer smoothly with a click of your tongue that runs the lap over your teeth. A temptress that you want to devour whole heartedly, to satiate your wolfish appetite. 

  Hands musing into the slit of your pant pockets, you bask silently at the sight of her, her form arching ever so slightly backwards and resting her weight in her arms. The familiar threading of tightness of your core is enough to alert you to your blooming desire. 

  You saunter towards her, almost stalking over to her, she watches you as her eyes travel up and down. 

  “You ever been with another girl before, Sweetheart?”

  Biting down into her lip, she shakes her head and her chin dips low, hiding her flustered visage. “You wanna try it?”

  A very bold move on your part. You’ve trapped her against the desk, arms caging her on either side she feels her breath become locked in her lungs. A very tempting offer you give her, but one she is unsure about, her lips part to form the words only to fall silent. 

  “Don’t worry, little Lamb. You’re in very good hands, I promise. Think about it like this: I'm all the better to please you...”

  Your lips blaze a flaming trail along her neck and collarbone, each planted seed of lust leaves a shivering breath in its wake. Wanda lets you slip onto your knees and sensing what exactly you’re getting at, she leans further back, practically sitting on the desk as you saddle between her legs. Your teeth nip and graze, lips caressing softly the soft tissue of her inner thighs until her hand strikes out, latching hold of any amount of your hair she can grab. 

  “Shh,” you usher with a whisper, “fuck, you smell delicious.” Your breath is hot, far too hot, it sears her wanting core, her thong already soaked beyond any reconciliation that it may dry shortly. 

  Your tongue laps at her through the dark fabric, suckling on it to taste her juices that stain them and you groan deeply, the sound that of a feral animal. 

  Her hand in your hair grips tighter and tugs at your roots. 

  She whimpers as you dance your tongue, teasing her folds through her tongue before using the very muscle to push aside the flimsy, damp fabric and trace the moist slit of her clenching pussy. Moaning softly, her hips thrust forward. 

  The ribbony tug of her core enlightens her, bringing about an airy flow to what she feels, her head leans back and her legs open wider for you, your hands snake around the seam of dress and skin and pull her in that little bit closer.

  “M-more! Please, more!” she exhales loudly, breathlessly. You slide your tongue between her folds, massaging her spongy walls that pulse around it, her mewls and voice growing weaker and more feral with each lashing you inflict in her cunt. Clearly, her first time is one she’ll remember. Nuzzling the upper flat of your tongue presses to her clit and soothes it, rolling and dragging, she all but lurches forward slightly at the brink of her orgasm. 

  “Fuck– fuck! I’m cumming!” 

  She mutters a thousand more curses that sound like wistful prayers to your ears, hungrily devouring her release with a guttural moan that shakes the foundation of her final resolve. She barely catches herself slipping further back across the desk, the case and laptop at this point a forgotten element. 

  Pulling your head away - after thoroughly cleaning her slick, satisfied pussy - you stand tall and straight, looming over her like a dark, stormy cloud. The brilliance of her green eyes is shrouded in the darkness of your shadow, but the same hunger for more ever resides presently. 

  Your hand soon replaces the loss of your mouth and she caves to your will, splayed out for your touch to sate her newfound desire. 

  “I want more… that was…”

  “Exquisite?” you chime with a hum and she nods. No other word can possibly describe it so perfectly. She feels your long, toned fingers rub her up and down, smearing what little juices you left behind and toying with her delicate pearl, arousal buzzes to life at the mere grazing of your thumb. 

  You’re closer to her now, the scent of your powerful cologne overpowers her senses, drowning her with fulfilling contentment. Hands grappling hold of your arms, she claws her way deeply that you’re quite impressed with the level of strength she possesses. 

  Slowly, you insert two fingers and curl and she buckles under the pressure. A scream is halfway tearing through her throat but she bites into her lip to keep the volume minimal. 

  “Going to keep quiet, huh?” you tease and unfurl your fingers before repeating the pattern over and over, each time, going deeper. “Don’t want the guards out there hearing what I’m doing to you?”

  She doesn’t answer, unsure if this is a trick question or not, but she can’t find it within herself to further embarrass herself. 

  You insert a third and watch her watch contort. She whimpers, the sound ringing in your ears like a humming whistle, she rolls her hips in great desperation whilst your thumb firmly circles her clit, feeling the sensitive heat from her core. 

  “Such a good girl for me, aren’t you?” The line of your lips caress the structure of her temple, her eyes scrunch closed. Her mouth falls agape. 

  “W-Wolf…” Her sigh is a breath of fresh air to the clarity of your insane mind. You thrust your fingers harder and faster, the squelch of her cunt and the filthy sounds of her voice fill the room’s void with something beautiful. A harmonic symphony you’re drawn to, committing it to memory for now. 

  “Yeah, Lamb?”

  “I– shit, oh my— I’m gonna…” 

  You hum in approval and with a few more powerful thrusts, the walls of her cunt shrink around your fingers in a fight to keep you. Letting her ride out her orgasm on your fingers, she moves erratically until she stops, panting heavily and her shoulders shoving down.

  “Good, little Lamb,” you praise gently, “Good girl.” 

  Lips hovering against each other, the gap is sealed with a heated kiss, tongues weaving in post-euphoria passion that can easily set the world ablaze. 

  Who knew that fucking your enemy could be so thrilling?

  “What about you?” she asks, voice still shaken. “The drive is almost done. Let’s just say… you’ll owe me a little something next time.”

  “How do you know if we’ll meet again?”

  You flash her a cheeky wink. “I have my ways, Lamb.”

  MALE

  “Looks like that download will take a while,” you remark coolly. Your chest leaves the warmed crest of her back, leaving Wanda unbearably cold and wanting. She almost shivers at the loss of contact. She hears you shuffle back and although she initially tries to ignore the way your eyes linger on her, coasting over the view she’s now conscious of giving you, she freezes. 

  It’s hard to explain to her rational mind but there’s something about you that creeps Wanda with a prickling notion that no matter what, the trail of your gaze never seems to leave her; at least not for long. Your words circle back into her mind. The mention that many eyes had been on her tonight, yours included, she wonders if the wolf has become animalistically smitten with her. Bewitched by her little red dress. 

  Her lips part with a silent, suppressed moan at the noise from behind, your groan deep and husky and laced with desire. She dares to take a peek over her shoulder, following the length of her still bent body until her eyes find yours, seeing you seated in one of the mahogany leather chairs opposing the desk. 

  Clearly, you were enjoying the curve of her arse and the lacy thong that’s now soaked with her arousal. She turns to face you now, arms pressed back and her hands grip the desk’s edge, crossing one ankle over the other, you take in the exposure of her shapely legs before the cut off of the dress that rides across the high of her thighs.

  For a moment that carries far too long to not be labelled as eternity, you both just stare at each other in silence, a thick air of tension traces the distance between you both, sharing looks of deep, dark-rooted wanton for the other. 

  You pat your thigh expectantly, legs spread with the uncaring nature of your growing bulge that’s restrained by the confines of your dress pants. It's a command. Not a request. Directed by the cause of that mystique, she’s drawn to you like a moth to the flame, she saunters towards you with a gentle slander of her heels that rap over the floorboards one at a time. 

  All the while, you scan her up and down until she stands between your legs. 

  “My, my, the little Lamb can’t help but be allured by the Wolf,” you chuckle darkly. Biting deep into the plump flesh of her lip, she shakes her head and her chin bows. 

  “No…”

  Despite your invitation, she lowers to her knees, resting back on her legs as her hands run up the length of black fabric and towards your belt. Your throat contorts with an amused hum, brow quirked with analysis to her next move, her eyes searching for your approval; which you give along with a nod. 

  “What a pretty mouth you have.” You grin, toothy and wide, canines sharp and pronounced. She unbuckles the leather strap and tugs loose the fly of your pants and you groan as she gently palms your erected cock through your boxers.

  “The better to take you with.” She blushes deeply, her indulgence inwards to the fantasy you play out together. 

  Releasing your cock from your boxers, you breathe a sigh of relief, tip oozing with beads of precum and your shaft stiffly standing. Her tongue languidly traces the definition of your cock, up and down as she prolongs her eye contact, moaning softly as her tongue and lips tease your sensitive, bulbous tip. Your hips buck instinctively towards where your pleasure derives from, chasing after that fix aggressively. 

  You hiss, jaw clenched to the brink that you may very well break it,and Wanda continues to drag her tongue up and down, over you tip again and again, lapping long, slow strips and gathering the beady droplets along the flat of her sinful muscle that works you; hot breath beating down on you. You swear you almost fucking whimper like a maturing juvenile, with little control over your body. 

 “The Big Bad Wolf,” she whispers and takes the first third of your member, hollowing her cheeks and forcing your length further and further down. She gags and her throat grips tightly, causing you to groan. Your claws bite into the expensive leather with little care for its maintenance. Not when you have the prettiest fucking lamb on her knees before you, sucking your dick. 

  “Fuck, Baby,” you sigh heavily, “Yeah… yeah, let me see that mouth work.” Your lungs are on fire, heart pounding a thousand beats per minute. Her tongue swirls around you and she moans deeply, whining in resistance when her own mouth tries to work against her, refusing to take anymore of you without a fight. 

  So you decide you’ll give her a helping hand. A little nudge. 

  You extend a hand forward and lace your fingers into the locks of her fiery, brown hair, curling well to the roots and scrunch harshly. She winces and her green eyes are glazed with a watery curtain, fresh with hot tears. Showing an ounce of mercy - and that is all you’re capable and willing to give - you start slow in guiding her head up and down, your cock sinking back and forth in her mouth, gags and muffled moans stifled by the cutoff of oxygen. 

  “F-fuck yeah—” you growl lowly. Your head tilts back for a moment and your hips snap hard, forcing her to take the entirety of your cock down her tight throat with a much louder moan, out of shocking resistance or eager obedience.

  “Shit, Lamb… m-mmm…” She’s graduated from needing your hand and it falls lax, letting her pace herself and she continues the rhythm you set prior, her saliva gathers down to the base of your groin and your balls swell with your impending orgasm.

  You grin at the thought of her drinking your seedy load, face and chest covered with you. Eyes finding the screen of the laptop, you cannot help the haughty chuckle. It looks like you’ll have more than enough time to fully indulge yourself in your new company. 

  You further encourage her, voice laced with your evident loss of composure, she knows you near the end of your leash. With a few more thrusts, you sink her head down and your hot load shoots down the tunnel of her throat, she groans in pleasure as she sucks you down, mouth drinking everything you’re giving her. 

  A poor loss that you wouldn’t get to see her painted with your cum, but with any luck, you’ll get a chance further down the line. Your other hand runs through your hair, rolling it back into its refined form and Wanda pulls off, her lips drenched with a mixture of fluids, the sight marks your face with a darkened smirk. 

  “C’mon, Red,” you say with a lulling drawl.  Her eyes are dazed in the land of pleasured confusion, she takes your hand as if taking the guiding hand of an angel, knowing little of her actual fate. She’s led to straddle you, her core soaking down the front of your vest and your much satisfied cock that stands at attention once again.

  “W-we… we shouldn’t…”

  “We should.” You peck her lips, tasting yourself on her and you delve your teeth to take your bottom lip between them. 

  “I’m gonna take you for a little ride.”

  One hand stabilises her at her hip, her hands finding purchase on either the curves of your shoulder and in the locks of your hair, threading them to grapple on, your other hand curls the thin fabric of her thong and drags it aside. 

  Your tip kisses her entrance and she mewls, head bowing into the crook of your neck. How she’d make the perfect little mate for you. 

  Her hips roll down and forward, her breath a quivering tempo as the sheer size of you between her legs and she gasps, feeling you stretch her walls wide out. For a second she believes you’ve split her in two and her whimpers are buried in the graveyard of your shoulder, nestled there while you sheathe yourself into her cunt, inch by inch until you finally bottom out with a pleased sigh. 

  ‘Fuck, you’re so big…’

  ‘All the better to fuck you hard.’

    Just as you promised, you deliver. Picking up into a more suited pace, you piston in and out, the sound of skin meeting skin, the squelching of your combined juices and fabric rustling against fabric; breaths colliding in each other’s orbit. 

  Soon enough, she garners her steadiness and bounces her hips, far more eager to ride you to her climax, she moans deeply and curses under her breath, breasts constricted by the tight bust of her dress. 

  As much as you'd like to rip it off her, you understand she has a mission to complete and you don’t favour anyone’s eyes lingering on her anymore, gauging to see if they have a single chance. 

  Wanda Maximoff is yours for the taking, and you’ll fuck that notion into her until she understands it.

  “I-I’m cum—” 

  “Give it to me, Baby. Come on– give it to me,” you pant, hissing blissfully. You’re lost in the haze of your lust, like you’re in the middle of a hunt, it excites you greatly and the flow of your blood is poisoned by the hit of your predatory drive. 

  Her walls squeeze your stiff, pulsing cock, eliciting from you both sounds you’d never imagine possible, almost pornographic, your lips trace the contour of her exposed shoulder and collarbone, the thought to leave a few marks here and there not going unnoticed by your conscience. 

  Her body arches back and you truly see the magnitude of her beauty, breasts though snug in their place, bounce erratically to the rapid pounding of your cock kissing her cervix, her nails scratch and dig at the seams of your jacket, and you know right then that you want this woman at your side. 

  You’ll kill all the Avengers if you must, you’ll take down Hydra from the inside if needs be. But you’ll be damned to walk this earth alone or with any other that isn’t her. 

  “Sh-shit! I’m cumming!” she cries out, voice high and pitchy. Her walls are a vice around you, pulling you in without mercy and giving no intent to make it easy to withdraw, her orgasm hitting you.

  “Yeah, yeah– that—” you pause, hips speeding up as the second dose of your own release rises, you seize hold of her hips with far more tenacity than before. 

  She spurs you in, muttering over and over, chanting to keep going. To not stop, to keep hitting her right there, and you oblige. With a deep grunt, followed by a low, long noted moan, you cum. Your seed paints her walls and the swell of your knot ties her to you. 

  When she tries to pull off, you hold her still. “You’re not going anywhere for a while, Hon,” you say. When she moves again, her eyes widen, green hues shining in the light from the window, and her delicious lips form into an understanding ‘o’ shape. 

  Slowly and out of small necessity, your hips brush back and forth against each other, mimicking the more desperate action you’d shared before. 

  “Your data awaits you,” you coo with a chuckle, knowing she has no choice but to wait it out.

  Glancing over her shoulder to see the completed task of the drive, she turns her eyes back to you. 

  “How long does…” Eyes drifting down to where you’re connected, you lean back, arms stretching to rest your hands behind your head with a smirk.

  “We’ve got about an hour.”

—

  Wanda walks down the cobblestone lane, her body still enduring the aftermath of your erotic coupling, the car waiting out front of her. She dreads to see the sceptical glares of whoever came to her rescue, she pulls her coat over herself more to hide the potential discovery of her quivering form as she then enters the car.

  But not before turning to gaze over the curve of her shoulder, skimming the bite dark, green eyes finding yours; amber cheekily flaunting the alluring power as you bid her a gesture of farewell.

  She sighs as the car begins to drive off into the night, Sam behind the wheel, he concentrates on the road, meanwhile, Natasha’s eyes find Wanda’s in the rearview. 

  “Did you get the data?”

  “Right here.” Wanda passes the drive over and Natasha takes it, looking it over in the palm of her hand. 

  That’s when Sam sighs heavily, nose wrinkling. “What smells like dog?”

@alexawynters @alyciaddict @simpforlizzie @literaturedog @maladaptive-daydreamz

[froggibus]

GIRL HI IDK IF YOUVE HAVE BUT LIKE COLE CASSIDY COWBOY RULE???? 🫶🏽

The Cowboy Rule - Cole Cassidy (NSFW)

Pairing: Cole Cassidy x f! reader

Genre: smut/NSFW

Word Count: 2k

Summary: while out for drinks with Cass, you decide to put on his hat without knowing about the cowboy rule

CW: straight filth, alcohol, slight possessiveness? semi-public sex, car sex, switch! Cass, switch!reader, dirty talk, praise, degradation, nipple play, teasing, dry humping, grinding, overstimulation, breeding, pregnancy kink? banter, riding, cowgirl position, pet names (cowboy, cowgirl, baby)

ok so I had to look up what that was but apparently if you take a cowboys hat you have to ride the cowboy?? idek I fell in love with that idea and that’s how this happened 🫶🏼 ive missed you guys a lot so I’m just happy to be back

Cassidy chugs down the rest of his whiskey, setting the glass back on the wooden bar counter with a thud. He licks the amber liquid off of his lips and flashes you a grin. “Be right back, darlin’.”

You raise an eyebrow but say nothing, waiting until he’s just out of sight before reaching for the cowboy hat he’d taken off an hour earlier. You always wanted to try it on, but the man was practically attached to it and you never had the chance. Until now. 

You set the vodka cran you’ve been drinking down on the counter and slowly place it on top of your head. “Call me Cassidy,” you mock his accent, “Cole Cassidy.”

“Now, now, I don’t think I sound like that, do I?”

You almost go white when you hear his voice over your shoulder, but you recover quickly. “No, my voice is a bit deeper.”

“Yeah?” He sits back on his bar stool next to you and orders another whiskey. “Ever heard of the cowboy rule, y/n?”

“The cowboy rule?”

He smiles knowingly at the bartender who sets a glass of whiskey down. “Do you know the cowboy rule?”

The bartender glances at the hat on your head, then at Cole, and flashes you a smirk. “Ah, don’t drag me into this.” He returns to cleaning glasses behind the counter. 

You look anywhere but at Cole, choosing instead to look at the wooden support beams around the room. You can feel his whiskey eyes boring into the cowboy hat that rests on your head, but you make no move to look at him until he starts speaking again. 

“So the cowboy rule,” he starts, “proclaims that if a woman takes a cowboys hat, she’s gotta ride the cowboy.”

Your face burns at his words and in your shock, you whip your head back to stare at him. “I—what?”

He’s grinning at you, his ears tinged pink. “You heard me, pumpkin.”

You clench your thighs slightly, and you can’t tell if the sudden heat in your stomach is from his words or the alcohol, or maybe a combination of both. He’s handsome, sure, and from the stories you’ve overheard, he knows what he’s doing. 

“So if I do ride you,” you start, suppressing giggles at the surprise on his face, “do I get to keep the hat on?”

“I guess there’s only one way to find out.”

You knock back the rest of your drink and wave the bartender back over to pay for your tab. Cassidy grabs your hand and practically drags you out of the bar. 

“Slow down, cowboy, we’re not even home yet.” 

“Who said anythin’ about goin’ home?” He clicks the unlock button on his keys just as you approach his old red pickup truck. 

He opens the back driver side door and gestures for you to get in. 

You raise an eyebrow at him. “In the parking lot?”

“Is that a problem?”

You shake your head and slide back in the seat, reaching up to grab him by his collar and tug him on top of you. He hooks his boot on the door handle and shuts it behind you guys before moving to straddle your waist. 

You try to think of something snarky to say but Cassidy shuts you up by pressing his lips to yours. The taste of nicotine and whiskey floods your senses, a slightly sweet tinge to his tongue. 

He sucks on your tongue and presses a knee between your legs. You can’t help but thrust your hips up and grind against his thigh, the friction making you whine. 

You reach up to grab something to ground yourself, your fingers finding his hair and tangling with the chocolate strands. You give it a tug and he moans into your mouth, pulling away to smirk at you.

“I knew you liked it rough,” he teases. 

You roll your eyes at him, “you don’t know the half of it.” You lock your legs around his hips and flip yourself over so that you’re on top of him. “That’s much better.”

You have your legs on either side of his, his bulge rubbing right up against your core. You’re practically gushing, so wet it leaves a dark spot on his jeans. He reaches his hands up your shirt, squeezing your tits through your bra. 

“Lord,” he groans, “I’d give you every hat I have if I could see you like this everyday.”

You lean and press a kiss to his lips, “easy cowboy,” you move your lips down to his jaw, “don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

He shivers under your touch, swallowing hard when you move your lips from his jaw to his neck and suck a dark mark into the skin. His calloused fingers dig into your hips, “e-easy now, no teasin’.”

You bounce on his hips slightly, his hard cock grinding on your throbbing clit through your pants. He grunts at the friction and you bite your lip to keep from whining. 

His hands travel from your hips and up to your shoulders, lifting up your cowboy hat momentarily to tug your shirt over your head. He places the hat on again and cups your face, before he tugs you down to kiss him again. One of his hands wraps around your back to unclasp your bra. If you weren’t so needy, you’d be impressed. 

“So pretty,” he hums, moving his mouth down to kiss the tops of your boobs. He’s gentle, applying just enough pressure for you to feel it. 

“D-don’t tease,” you whine. 

He pulls back. “Why don’t you use that pretty little mouth for something more useful than complaining?”

He rubs the tips of his index and middle fingers on your lips, slowly pushing them into your mouth. On instinct, you wrap your lips around them and start to suck on them. 

“That’s a good girl,” he pets your head before returning to your chest. “Keep at it.”

He slowly kisses down your left side, kissing in a square pattern on the outside of your nipple. His mouth is hot and wet and has you squirming for more. Cass moans when you dig your hips a little too hard into his. 

Finally, his hot mouth closes around your nipple and you moan around his fingers. He’s an expert, knowing exactly how much pressure to apply and when to use his teeth and when to go soft. You whine against his fingers, arching your back and thrusting your hips into his. 

The friction does little to help the throbbing in your core and only succeeds in making Cass go harder. Finally, you can’t take it anymore. 

You let his fingers fall from your mouth and pulls way from him. Cass looks at you with an eyebrow raised, “did I say you could stop?”

You place a hand on his chest and shove him back on the bench so that he’s laying down. “I’ve had about enough of you being in charge,” you grab the hem of his shirt and tug it over his head. “It’s my turn, cowboy.”

You never would have guessed that Cass has a submissive side. Yet, he laid down on his back and let you use him all the same. 

You run your hands over his smooth chest, admiring the scars and the way his metal arm seems to meld into his skin perfectly. You plant light kisses across the border of metal and flesh, and Cass sucks in a breath. 

Your hands run lower, following his treasure trail to the top button of his jeans. You pop it open easily, making quick work of the zipper and propping yourself up on your knees to tug his pants off. You’re greeted with his hard cock straining against his red boxers, and you drool at the sight of it. 

“So worked up for me,” you sigh, running your finger across the outline of his dick. 

Cass pants at your touch, especially when you start to trail your fingers across the waistband of his shorts. You slip a finger in and run it across the skin on the inside. You hook another finger inside and finally tug his boxers off. 

His cock springs out, hard and veiny, the head red and dripping with pre cum. You grip the base snugly, giggling at the way Cass sighs and throws his head back. 

You lick the tip, the salty sweet taste of his precum flooding your mouth. He bucks his hips forwards, trying to force more of his cock into your mouth. 

“Not yet, cowboy. You cum inside me or not at all.”

Cass groans at your words, the sheer thought of stuffing you full of his cum and fucking it back into you is almost enough to make him cum. You tug down your bottoms almost too eagerly, your sopping panties practically dripping onto his lap. 

You slip your panties off and move so that your entrance is above the head of his cock. “Ready, cowboy?”

“After you, cowgirl.”

You slowly sink onto the head of his cock, your pussy so wet it slides in easily. He’s big enough that the stretch is almost painful, your walls squeezing around him. The two of you moan in tandem as you pause just after his head, trying to adjust. 

Cass grabs your hips, fingers digging into your soft flesh. You slide down a few more inches, eyes rolling back in your head at the friction. He bottoms out a few seconds later, your cunt flesh against his balls. Both of you are breathless, Cole’s hands slightly shaking in anticipation. 

You move back up his length slowly before going back down, the feeling of his cock stretching your walls almost overwhelming. Your movements are slow at first, hesitant, but as it starts to feel good, you get more confident. 

You start to bounce on his cock, your thighs slapping against his with every thrust. Cass helps guide you up and down his cock, desperate for more friction. His hat bounces on your head with every impact, your hair falling in your face. 

“S-shit,” he hisses, using his hands to slam you against him, “look so damn fine in my hat.”

You mimic the way he tips his hat, interrupted when he lifts his hips to slam into yours. You can feel your orgasm approaching quickly, heat building in your stomach. Cass continues to lift his hips to meet your movements, moving one of his hands down to your dripping cunt to rub your clit. 

The friction is enough to send you over the edge, your orgasm rolling through you. Your muscles give in and you collapse onto his chest, your head hanging over his shoulder. Your walls clench around his cock, and Cassidy makes no move to slow down. 

He thrusts into you harder, trying to chase his own finish. “My little cowgirl,” he grunts, “cummin’ all over my cock. Such a naughty little slut.”

You whimper into his neck, feeling another orgasm starting to build up. 

“Want me to cum inside you baby?” He coos, “want me to stuff you full of my cum?”

“Y-yes!” You whine, wrapping your arms around him to keep yourself grounded. “Breed me, p-please Cass!”

Your words send him into overdrive, a primal growl ripping through him. He’s thrusting into you impossibly fast now, his balls slamming against your ass with every thrust. 

You squeal his name, your own voice sounding far away as you succumb to the pleasure. Cole’s thrusts get sloppier, and then he gives one final, hard thrust before spilling his cum deep inside of you. The warm cum filling you up is enough to bring about your own orgasm, intense shockwaves of pleasure washing through you. 

Your vision and hearing black out for a second as you cum, your muscles going rigid and then relaxing. Cassidy holds you to his chest, petting your back and mumbling in your ear while you cum. 

When you come to, you’re breathless and laying on top of Cass, his cock still buried inside of you. 

“So, cowgirl, did you enjoy the ride?”

[callmeby-mylastname]

who’s she?

summary- after your fallout with tara you find comfort in the thing you hated most about her, alcohol.

warnings- some sweet angst, meaningless one night stands and some swears. possible grammar n spelling errors

A/N- thank you anon for the suggestion i hope it lived up to your standards. sorry this took so long i have been so damn busy lately but enjoy🙏

part 1

it had been 3 months since your ‘break up’ with tara and to be completely honest you were doing terrible.

you never liked it when tara drank, she became someone you didn’t recognise.

and now you’re here, you barely recognise yourself. drinking copious amounts of liquor sleeping with a new random girl.

if you kept yourslef sober enough you’d be disgusted by the reputation you had acquitted, the ‘life of the party’ the fuck boy who gets with pretty girls and leaves before they wake up. it didn’t mean anything to you it truly didn’t it clearly meant nothing to the hookups. you both wanted a sexual realsie and that’s what you got.

doing anything to distract yourself from losing the one thing that made your life bright.

Tara had heard of your new found reputation along with glaring looking at you drunkly go upstairs with a girl.

she felt guilty, real guilty. yet too stubborn to talk to you. was she scared you’d end up the way amber did? yeah. did she love you? yeah. was her fear a reasonable excuse to hurt you the way she did? not particularly.

but yet here she is, sat in her apartment wallowing in self pity, contemplating texting you.

she’d spend her nights feeling guilty debating to reach out but never truly had the courage. she hears a ping from her phone and checks the message.

nerdymeeks: have u heard of Y/Ns new girl?

Tgiz: wait what? like gf??

nerdymeeks: i think so? they’ve been seen hanging out at their place couple times

nerdymeeks: told u. u should’ve stopped being stubborn n got ur girl back before it was too late

well if she had a reason to text it was definitely now, so with the surge of confidence that had absolutely nothing to do with the raging jealousy she clicked your contact and let it ring.

“sorry the person you’re trying to contact does not exist” and with that the call ended.

tara was left in disbelief, you blocked her? you got some new girl and blocked her? that made a already very jealous mad tara exceptionally more angry

she didn’t particularly have the right to but she still was.

grabbing her shoes and keys, she was going to confront you, luckily for her you’re a couple doors away. it’s honestly shocking you two haven’t seen eachother since the fallout.

and with three knocks, she was stood at the door left with silince. she raised her fist to knock once more when a beautiful black haird girl opened the door.

logically she was stunning, but to tara? you could do better. and it isn’t at all jealousy

“can i help you?” the girl at the door way asked, recovering from the momentary stun tara replied.

“i-uh. i’m here for Y/N?”

“tara?” your voice rang out behind this new mysterious girl.

this was the first time her eyes met yours after THAT. you looked good, better than you did atleast.

but she would hate to admit how she missed the way her eyes instantly found yours wherever you were.

“we need to talk” tara replied to you

you were stuck, on one side you never wanted to see her again but that little part of ur brain was nagging at you to just hear her out.

and so you went for the latter. “okay”

tara looked back at the girl guarding the entrance to your apartment, she reluctantly moved aside and headed towards your bedroom.

“if you need me Y/N i’ll be right here” and with that she entered the room closing the door.

“so are you and broody over there..together?” she was trying to keep composer (it didn’t work)

“what do you care?” you replied bitterly

“i don’t. i-just..wondering” that composer is definitely working very well. “what do you want tara?” you were getting impatient now

“why did you block me?” she asked getting straight to the point

“it’s not like we were talking” you replied. she really had the nerve to throw you to the cerb then comd to your apartment and ask why you had blocked her?

“maybe because you were too busy getting drunk” she folded her arms across her chest.

“oh? so you’re getting judgemental now?” you walked closer to her.

“i have never once judged you, and now you’re judging me for something you’ve done?”

you were face to face with her now. you were a couple inches taller than tara, so you were looking down on her.

she would be lying if she said seeing you mad wasn’t atleast a little bit attractive.

“i had my reasons for what i did” she stated getting louder now.

“and i didn’t?” you were shouting now, both arguing with one an other.

“we were simply fucking Y/N-“ she started “No!” you cut her off. “don’t even act like what we were doing was ‘just fucking’. i loved you and you know damn well you liked me more than just some side bitch-“

it was her turn to intrupt you now “you loved me?” the tension was softer now.

“of course i did tara? you were everything i ever wanted” you paused

“and now i have everything i need” you looked towards the bedroom door, tara following your line of sight.

she felt the tears in her eyes, but she be dammed if she let you see them fall.

the soft “oh” fell from her lips “i see, well i’ll leave you two to it then” and before you could say more she turned around and left, leaving you stood in your apartment once more.

this time you had something, someone to go to. someone worth it.

tag list

@ortegalvr

@tropicals-things

@jusnough

[mercurialrain]

I Couldn’t Have, I Was Playing Hopscotch with Hawkmoth

Felix slid into his seat next to Dupain-Cheng, wondering what would happen today. 

It seemed that her new policy of dealing with Lila’s lies and the simultaneous ire of the class was to say whatever crazy thing popped into her head whenever they accused her of something. It had been rather entertaining, to say the least. 

The first time she’d done it, their faces had been so comical that it had made Felix wish he’d brought his camera to school. 

“Marinette! How could you shove Lila into the lockers?” Kim had stood in front of the crowd, his arms crossed in what was clearly meant to be an intimidating pose. 

Marinette had looked up with a blank expression. 

“I couldn’t have, I was playing hopscotch with Hawkmoth. He’s a really bad loser, so I had to leave before he had a full-on temper tantrum.” She had said it with the blandest tone he’d ever heard her use, which only added to the effect. 

Everyone’s mouths had opened and closed like a fish’s, trying to figure out how to respond to her answer. It was obviously not true, but how did someone respond to that?

She’d held Kim’s gaze, no trace of amusement on her face. 

It had worked exactly how he suspected she intended; they hadn’t managed to come up with anything before Bustier had come back in the room, breezily instructing everyone to turn to page 294 in their textbooks. 

The next time, it seemed that they had come a little better prepared, allowing Alix to lead the charge. She was notorious for having a witty retort to everything, so it made sense. Unfortunately, Marinette had also come with a plan. 

“Marinette! Care to tell us why you sabotaged Lila’s project in the art room?”

Marinette had held up a finger, digging in her backpack. The class had watched with interest, as this was the first reaction that hadn’t been outright hostile or bland. 

She’d pulled out her tablet and typed something before turning it around. 

Can’t talk. I lost my voice after too much yelling at the heavy metal concert I went to last night. 

Alix had blinked at the idea of sugar-sweet Marinette attending a heavy metal concert, but recovered quickly. “Ok, so type out why you destroyed her project!”

Some more typing, then a response. Couldn’t have, I was helping scientists extract DNA from mosquitoes in amber to make dinosaurs.

“That’s the plot of Jurassic Park!”

Where do you think they got the idea from?

Alix had stared for a moment more before throwing up her hands. “This is useless, she’s clearly gone off the deep end!” She’d stormed out, leaving the rest of the class behind, unsure of what to do now that they’d lost their ringer.

Again, Bustier had made the decision of what to do for them, coming in with a reminder of the worksheet they had due at the end of class. 

Needless to say, Felix believed that this was a very good use of her creative mind. Watching her outsmart the idiots of the class in her own way was endlessly amusing and had quickly become his favorite part of the day. 

Today, before the daily confrontation, Bustier had assigned them a project, a partner project with their deskmate. For Felix, that was Marinette. Since they’d been working on the project all day, Lila hadn’t had the chance to leave and lie about anything, pushing the confrontation to likely after the lunch break. Felix could hardly wait to see what she said this time. Maybe this project would allow him to get to know and understand her better.

“So for the project I was thinking that we make a PowerPoint-” Marinette cut herself off, staring at him with a puzzled expression. “You’re almost smiling at me. Are you feeling alright?”

Felix immediately wiped his expression, mildly mortified that he’d outwardly shown his amusement, but forged ahead. “I see you got your voice back. Was the heavy metal worth it?”

“What? Oh, that. I’m fine.”

“Oh, I know. Your recent interactions with the class have been thoroughly entertaining.” 

“Glad you’ve been enjoying it. Confusion is certainly better than outright hostility.” She sighed, suddenly looking very tired. 

“It’s about time that you started retaliating, even if it’s just by scrambling the two collective brain cells they have left. I don’t know that I could’ve put up with Rossi’s bullshit for as long as you have with the patience you’ve had.”

Her eyes snapped to him. “You know she’s lying?”

He scoffed. “Please, don’t insult my intelligence like that. Of course I know she’s lying.”

Marinette was silent. He could almost see the burden on her shoulders getting lighter with the realization she wasn’t alone in knowing Rossi was a liar and was about to comment further on it when Marinette smiled. It was a mischievous smile that promised trouble, which immediately intrigued Felix. He hadn’t seen much of her troublemaker side except for the few glimpses from her last interactions with the class, but he had a feeling there was one hell of a wicked streak somewhere underneath that cotton candy. 

“You wanna help?”

He considered for a moment. Was it worth getting involved in? On one hand, it was enjoyable to just be merely a spectator. On the other hand, he wanted to know more about this side of Marinette and it was always enjoyable to see idiots put in their place. 

“I’m in.”

- - - - - -

After school, Felix and Marinette were at their desk, waiting for the confrontation. 

And like a bad penny, the class came back to try again. It seemed that they were shuffling who was leading the ‘Marinette how dare you’ brigade, and this time they had chosen Adrien. Felix knew about her crush on him, so he supposed that it was a rather strategic move on their part, if he wasn’t able to see the barely hidden disdain for the boy on her face. 

“Marinette, you know that it wasn’t kind of you to throw Lila’s backpack down the stairs while she was in the cafeteria. That’s not the everyday Ladybug we all know and love.” 

Ah, the guilt trip method. Usually foolproof on someone as empathetic as Marinette, rendered useless by Marinette’s developing apathy towards the class.

“It must’ve been someone else. I spent the lunch break teaching Mr. Ramier’s pigeons how to moonwalk. I wouldn’t have gotten back in time if Felix hadn’t realized the time and dragged me back.”

“Now, Marinette, don’t lie about it.”

“I’m not. Felix?”

Felix nodded, pulling up a video on his phone and showing it to the class. In it, Marinette stood next to some pigeons, clearly demonstrating how to moonwalk. The pigeons looked on curiously, occasionally pecking at her shoes and awkwardly waddling backwards. Mr. Ramier sat in the background, alternately cheering or throwing birdseed to the pigeons. The video clearly had the timestamp of about ten minutes before their break ended, so they would’ve had to rush to get back to class. There was no way they could’ve done anything.

Marinette looked back at Adrien and folded her arms. “Well? I’ll take my apology now.”

Felix snorted at the flabbergasted expression on Adrien’s face, casually putting his arm over Marinette’s shoulders. He didn’t really know why he did it, only that it felt right. Apparently she didn’t mind, since she just readjusted to be a bit more comfortable. “Give him a minute, he’s rebooting.”

“Wait, are the two of you dating?” He blurted out, then immediately looked like he regretted it. 

This time, Marinette snorted. “Because the only reason he’d support me was if he was my boyfriend? No, that’s what friends are meant to do, Adrien.” The last sentence was laden with poison that Felix didn’t know the context for, but Adrien did, because he flinched. 

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, turning away. 

As soon as the class turned away, her head fell on his shoulder, her face crumpling in pain. He didn’t know what to do but hug her shoulders tighter. He’d seen that her love language was physical touch, so maybe it would help? After a while, her face smoothed and she lifted her head, seemingly doing better. 

“Hey, thanks for backing me up.”

Felix shrugged. “It was fun.”

She turned to look at him. “No, I’m serious. It’s been a long time since anyone’s had my back, even if it’s just to mess with someone. Thank you.”

Why did he suddenly feel all warm inside? “So what’s the next plan?”

Marinette looked surprised. “You want to be involved in the next one?”

“Sure, why not?”

She looked away, her cheeks turning a light pink. “Maybe we could, well, I don’t know, I don’t want you thinking that I’m just saying this because Adrien said it because I promise I’m really not, but maybe we could, um, discuss it on a date?”

“But we hardly know each other.” What did she see in him that she liked? Sure, he’d helped her once, but that was hardly grounds for someone liking someone, was it?

“That’s the point of the date. To get to know someone. Besides, I want to see if you’re as nice as I suspect you are under that prickly exterior.” She was looking at him again, cheeks now a bright red, but with determination in her eyes. 

Well, hadn’t he wanted to get to know her better too? “Sure.”

[lou-struck]

A Filthy Pumpkin Drink

Izuku Midoriya x reader

Flufftober Day 1- Seasonal Drinks

WC: 1.3k

~Izuku has an awkward little slip of the tongue when he is ordering you a refill of your seasonal beverage.

~ BOO! Happy First Day of Flufftober (or whenever you choose to read this) you guys!!!

There aren't many things cozier than spending a rainy fall afternoon under the warm string lights of a. The heavenly smells of cinnamon and nutmeg dance through the air, helping numb the minds of those who object to the summer's end. 

Although the leaves of the cutie's well-maintained oak trees have long since changed to brilliant shades of carmine and amber, Izuku's brilliant green eyes still shine like springtime as he sits across from you with a tired smile. Having just gotten off of patrol, your pro-hero boyfriend's usually fluffy hair sits damp against his forehead, darkened from the rainfall as he warms himself in your presence.

As much as you adore him, it's a rarity for you to spend your lunches together. So today is a wonderful surprise. Since he managed to apprehend the villain he was tailing earlier, and got to slip away for an early lunch and meet you at your favorite café so you can try yet another one of the drinks from their locally famous seasonal drink menu. 

Today's drink of choice is a Dirty Pumpkin Pie chai. The sweet, pumpkin pie cold foam goes so well with the spiced chai that you find yourself considering getting another one. The added caffeine may give you enough sparkle to make it through the rest of your beige-colored workday.

"How is your drink, y/n?" your ever-curious boyfriend asks, eyeing your caramel-drizzled cup with interest.

You wipe a bit of cold foam from your lip with a little paper napkin and hold it out to him. "See for yourself, Zuku; it may be the best one yet."

He takes a sip carefully tasting each component of a drink. Can tell from the way his eyes light up that he's a fan. "Oh wow, it's not what I thought it would taste like at all. The tea itself isn't sweet, but when it layers with the foamy stuff, it's really good." 

"I know, right? I would definitely order it again once I try the other drinks on the menu," you smile, taking your cup back from him and enjoying another sip, only to realize that you accidentally brushed your hand against some caramel residue that dripped down the side of your cup.

"I'd like it too," he says, taking a gulp from his own drink, a blended protein shake that doesn't do much for his energy levels but will help his muscles recover from his grueling early morning patrol while he works through a mountain of paperwork. But when he spots another patron walk by your little table with a fresh, toasted sandwich from the display case, his eyes follow them out the door, filled with hungry longing.

"That looks really good," he mumbles quietly. His analytical gaze already dissecting the sandwich's components. You can tell he wants it, but he has always needed a little push to treat himself.

That's where you come in…

"You know, I think I'm going to get a refill to go." You say to the freckled man across from you; you rattle your nearly empty cup for effect. "Sit tight; I'll just head to the bathroom and order you a sandwich before you have to go back to work." 

Izuku, the king of acts of service, simply cannot stand by as you, the love of his life, go and buy himself another coffee when he hasn't gotten the chance to spoil you today. "Uhh, no worries, I'll take care of it." he pouts, pulling his wallet out of the pocket of his Uravity sweatshirt so quickly, you swear he just activated his quirk.

"Are you sure?" you ask, sensing that Izuku isn't going to back down from this. But as you look down at the sticky patch on your hands, you realize that you are far more interested in washing them than fighting a losing battle.

"Of course," he nods determinedly, "What was the name of the drink that you ordered again?"

You shoot him a grin, knowing just how to fluster the man. "I got a dirty Pumpkin Pie Chai."

His eyes widen and he shyly shifts in his seat. "D-do I really have to order it like that?"

You coyly cock your head to the side. "Like what?"

"Say that it's, you know..." he looks around nervously and lowers his voice so only you can hear it. "dirty."

"I mean, that's what it is," you say gently; of course, there are other ways to order a shot of espresso in your drink, but it is so much more fun to lovingly tease him. "But if you are uncomfortable asking for a dirty little drink, I can just order it myself." you tease, watching as his features go from nervous to determined.

"No, I got it," he says, standing abruptly. Without another word, you watch as your sweet boyfriend marches over to the line, ready to order you your drink at the small cost of his dignity.

~

It only took you a minute or so to wash your hands, but you got distracted by the cafe's interesting bathroom wall decor. But when you come back, you see Izuku stepping up to the cash register to order your drink. Sneakily, you creep over to him, just in case he needs help remembering your order. 

"Hey there, what can I get for you?"  the barista with lemon-slice eyes and vine-like hair asks, greeting him with a practiced customer service smile.

"Hi there, may I please get that sandwich?" he asks, extending his scarred hand and pointing to the expertly wrapped katsu sandwich in the display case. 

"Is there anything else you would like?"

"Actually, yes." He says softly. His brows furrow as he glances up at the menu as if he is trying to remember what drink you want. He may not be able to see you from where he is standing, but he can certainly see the ever-growing line behind him. 

You can tell he is feeling the pressure; just as you are about to step in and help him out, he opens his mouth once again. "May I please get one of those… uhh, filthy pumpkin drinks, please?"

"I'm sorry?" the barista's eyes widen in shock and they look at your boyfriend like he has three heads. "Could you repeat that?"

"Oh, that wasn't quite right was it?"  he mumbles, his freckled face turning beet red as he tries to remember what the name of your drink was. 

You hold in your laughter and decide to come to his rescue. You come behind him and grab his arm with a soft smile. "That was a good try, Zuku, but I think I'll take it from here." He visibly relaxes as you give your order to the bewildered barista, who definitely does not get paid enough to have grown men asking for filthy pumpkin drinks.

"Ohh, so that's what you meant," she laughs as your boyfriend swipes his card." I really had no idea what you were talking about."

You put another bill in the tip jar and walk back over to your little table to wait for your order to be brought to you. Izuku sits embarrassedly in his seat and pulls his hood up a bit more to hide himself from the world. 

"I can't believe I did that," he sighs, toying with his empty smoothie cup. "I wanna curl up in a ball and die."

You look at the literal superhero across from you and comfortingly pat his arm. "Oh, don't be like that, Izuku; it really wasn't that bad. I'm sure it happens all the time to other people."

"R-really?" he asks. "Well, if you don't mind, could you not tell anyone? I'd hate to think of how Kacchan and the others would react if they found out about my slip-up today." 

"I promise," you say, leaning in to whisper into the shell of his ear. "Consider it our filthy little secret."

Tagging: @pixelcafe-network @ambiguouslady42

[redclercs]

— or, the one where mick prefers the dress off of you.

✤ requested as part of the lavender haze event!

✤ mick schumacher x fem reader, prompts used: “against the window, are you insane?” + "leave the heels on"

✤ warnings: lowecarse intended, smut, mdni!! semi-public sex, unprotected sex, piv, bit of sir kink ig? creampie, no aftercare, per usual, don't take this as an example and be smart about having sex y'all. 1.2k words

visit the lavender library

the moment mick saw you with the dress on, he wanted to take it off you. not in a bad, overly possessive way, although it did occur to him that if he was looking at you like that, some of the other guests in this wedding would too.

who in their right mind had thought of giving the bridesmaids such a deep cleavage? mick couldn’t even begin to guess. his brain was swarmed with other thoughts.

“what?” you ask, your hands already on their way to cover your breasts. “it’s not too much, is it?”

mick shrugs in return, shaking his head. “definitely not.”

“you’re a shit liar,” you retort, eyeing yourself in the full-body mirror one last time. “let’s go loverboy, I don’t want to make a late entrance.”

although usually annoyed by the nickname, mick doesn’t give it a second thought as he follows you out of the room, where he wishes he could stay for the rest of the day, filling it with your whines and soft moans.

••• ─────────

you finally notice mick’s discomfort during cocktail hour. the bride and the groom are somewhere in the venue taking pictures and you’re left behind with the rest of the guests to catch your breath, and leave your boyfriend breathless.

“what’s gotten into you?” you ask mick, taking the short glass of amber liquid out of his hand. his other palm is drawing circles against your hip bone, almost leaving a hole in the fabric that hugs your figure perfectly.

"what do you mean?" he asks, already extending arm to recover the drink. his mouth is dry, and his tongue feels like sandpaper.

you click your tongue, still keeping the glass away from him. "you're so tense, and while i don't hate it, you've been practically groping me all day. in front of everyone."

your boyfriend clears his throat and stares at you for the millionth time that evening. "it's the damn dress, y/n seriously, whose idea was it?"

you laugh, before noticing he's being serious. "seven other girls are wearing this dress, mick."

"i don't care about the other seven girls, they're not the ones giving me an issue."

you raise your eyebrows at him. he's actually acting like a horny teenager in the middle of one of your closest friend's wedding.

and you like it. it thrills you to know you have this effect on him, so you caress the back of his neck with your perfectly manicured nails, the color matches your dress perfectly.

"seriously y/n," mick is gritting his teeth and turning back to the bar, to hide the lower part of his body against the mahogany.

this time you laugh audibly, and to mick's mortification a few of the guests and the bartender turn their heads in your direction.

"come on loverboy, let me help you." you wink, making your way out of the bar.

your heels create an echo through the empty room. the old mansion in which the party is taking place has many unused spaces that you discovered yesterday with mick, so now you're putting them to use.

mick shuts the door behind him, and after the lock clicks, scarce seconds pass before his hands are all over you. you didn't even hear him move.

your world comes down to tongues and teeth, and his fingers pressing and grabbing against the skin the dress leaves exposed. your hand finds its way to his crotch, he's already so hard it must be painful to keep it in his pants.

"you're so hot," mick keeps repeating like a mantra, "you're driving me crazy."

you smile against his lips, fingers already working the belt of his trousers. "this is crazy."

you want mick, you always want mick. but the idea of doing having snuck out of the wedding just to fuck him while people might be looking for you has you wanting him in a way that's overwhelming. you have never done this before, with him or with anyone else.

the moment your dress comes off, you gasp. to be fair, you expected mick to work his way up your legs, moving the fine fabric to the side, not just have you naked in the middle of the room, with your bare ass against a leather cushion.

"leave the heels on," he commands, getting rid of his suit jacket. his pants are already halfway down his legs.

"yes sir," you're only half-mocking him, but you notice the way his eyes darken at what you just called him, and you know you've unlocked a new part of your boyfriend that will only bring more enjoyment to your life.

you spread your legs for him to settle in the middle, his erection already free, out of his boxers as he approaches you. but your throbbing anticipation is met with denial as he grabs the back of your neck and pulls you to him, and away from the couch.

the long piece of furniture that is against the wall meets your hipbones painfully as mick makes you bend against it. but you don't have time to worry about the possible bruises, not when you're right in front of the window to the back garden with your breasts hanging in the air.

"against the window, are you insane?" you gasp, your hands pressing against both the glass and the cedar surface. you don't want to risk giving quite the spectacle to another guest or one of the staff.

mick's only response is to press your back down and pin one of your hands behind you. and it's like your brain shuts off, because this is so hot, and now you both are horny teenagers unafraid of consequences.

your moans echo around the room when mick finally stars fucking you. your hips hit the wood time and time again and your free hand is pressed against the glass with such force it might break, but you don't care. it's all about the way mick feels inside you and his grunts and groans in the back of your neck.

the hand in the middle of your back moves down to your clit, roughly pressing on it before moving his finger in circles. "fuck, you're so hot," he pants, like it's the only thing on his mind. "you feel so good."

you whine as an answer, legs buckling as you approach your orgasm. you don't even care about the window or the way the sun hits your frame, making it clearer for anyone who could be outside.

mick's hand has to let go of your pinned arm to cover your mouth as you hit your climax loudly. and he presses it down hard when he cums in you, almost cutting your airflow. you twitch in his arms, overly sensitive already against his non-stop movements.

you can feel his cum start sliding down your legs and you sigh, your stomach contracting in anticipation, you could go on and on.

"we have to go back," you speak with mick's palm still against your mouth. "the reception is starting soon."

and you have to clean yourselves up in the bathroom down the hall.

reluctantly, mick takes his dick out of you, still hard. he really can't get enough of you. he can't wait for you to be back at the hotel.

you turn around to kiss him, your bare chest pressing against his clothed one. "let's do this more often," you can't help but giggle, because you're still high on the thrill of the danger of getting caught.

"I'd do it all the time," mick kisses you back, hands squeezing your ass before finally deciding to get himself together.

or as together as he possibly can, knowing you're putting the damn dress back on.

─── team principal radio: ❝thank you for joining the event! i hope you've enjoyed this filth. let me know your thoughts!❞

[dazed-and-confused23]

Dear Hearts and Gentle People 18

Summary: Cooper comforts you after the two of you leave Vault 3. There isn't anything he can do to take your memories of that place away, but he sure as hell could try.

Pairings: The Ghoul | Cooper Howard x Female Reader

Warnings: Not many? Hurt/Comfort. Cooper does his best. Drug use and sexual assault are mentioned. Lots of cuddles and crying.

Masterlist

You don't remember how you got out of the Vault, and you don't care to recall how either. You lay in bed in your room at the Atomic Wrangler for three days, recovering from the copious amount of chems that the fiends have shoved into your system. Julie Farkus had told Cooper that she was lucky to be alive and that most women didn't have someone that could save them like he had for you.

Cooper had grit his teeth, lips pulled in a nasty sneer, and told the good doctor that it'd almost been too late, but he was just glad that Julie could help him. Today was the first time that you felt up to more than just sleeping, and the ghoul made sure to be by your side. You sat up, back pressed against the wall, and played with the plate of food in your lap.

"You gonna eat, smoothskin?" He asks and shifts his weight in the stool beside your bed. Cooper's been here for the better part of those three days, only leaving for necessary reasons and never for long. The bounty hunter is dressed down, only his jeans and button-up and boots, and you finally look at him.

You clear your throat, lips pulled in a harsh frown. "Yeah, I will."

Cooper doesn't like the tone you use and sits forward, elbows on his knees, and he stares you down, "Do I need to feed you?"

You scoff at the vauge threat and pierce a piece of steak before popping the morsel in your mouth and slowly chew it. You eye Cooper then swallow, "Happy?"

The ghoul narrows his amber eyes, "Not yet."

He watches your lips purse and look away from him, shoulders slumping and hands going limp. He doesn't expect to see tears growing in your eyes or to watch the way you fold into yourself, lips trembling as a broken apology spills from between your lips.

Cooper rises and takes the plate away from you, setting it to the side so that he can crawl into the bed with you. He sits against the headboard and pulls you back so that you rest between his legs against his chest. You don't bother fighting against him and simply cry a little harder when his hands rub soothing motions across your back.

"Wanna talk about it yet?" Cooper offers quietly. You've not said shit to him about your time in Vault 3. He understood the big picture when he'd arrived down there. His smoothskin had been treated worse than a fucking dog, drugged up and left to wallow in your own filth.

You shake your head. You don't understand how Cooper even wants to touch you right now. You feel disgusting, and the phantom feel of the fiends' hands still haunt you at every second of the day. You want another shower, but hot water was a precious commodity.

"Stop apologizing," Cooper rumbles after a moment, and you snap your mouth shut, unaware that you'd just said everything out loud. His arms tighten around you, and you bask in the strength of the hard planes of his body.

"Nothing those bastards did to you could make me love you any less."

His words only make you sob harder, but you can't help but feel relief at them. Your ghoul loved you and had taken on an entire vault of chem addled cannibals to save you. He had come out on top and dragged your sorry body all the way back to Freeside, snarling and demanding help from the followers.

"Thank you," you say, and press yourself as close to Cooper as you can. You never want to let go, and you never want to see the inside of a vault ever again.

"You're mine, Darlin', "Cooper rumbles and tightens his hold on you, "And nothin' will ever stop me from comin' for you."

*sorry if this one is a little lackluster. I had some trouble with it. ❤️*

[lilacxquartz]

PRETTY LITTLE TRINKET

harpy shoko ieiri x f!reader

plot: while lost at sea, you find yourself saved by a monster yet unable to leave.

summary: as you recover, you find yourself bonding with a monster but her friends are cautious of your existence — a/n: this is yandere, so it will still feel unsettling at times.

chapter 2 of 5 • < previous chapter • next chapter > main masterlist • ao3

Chapter 2: Danger?

You stared at the bird-like, human-like hybrid that nestled before you with both caution and awe, battling between falling asleep and staying awake at the same time in a conflicting moment. Internally, your instincts begged for you to get away but your heart told you otherwise—claiming that this creature only wanted to help—to give in, to not fear the unknown.

As she woke up next to you, her attitude seemed almost… indifferent towards you, as if dissecting who you were, analysing your very being. It was ever so slightly unsettling, if you were honest but you tried hard to not let it bother you considering the bizarre circumstances otherwise.

Your eyes drifted around her form, taking in the coppery brown feathers that adorned her body with a sleek amber sheen; looking straight ahead into her deep, black eyes that you could have sworn absorbed all hope into exhausted nothingness and yet… there was a flicker of something just beyond what she let on.

Was it hope?

You couldn’t quite yet tell.

Slowly but surely over the last day or so, you worked with her to attempt to communicate that you couldn’t live the same way she could, only for her to share a common tongue with you. It was frustrating, but you had to wonder why she withheld such crucial information from you. There was otherwise the chattering from before, something akin to bird-like warbling and then there was an understanding, albeit with an outdated grasp of what you otherwise knew.

“Fire,” you repeated in an attempt to get her to understand, her initial response to the word was met with flinched retaliation, but as you continued to preach the requirement over and over, she warmed up to it. “I need… fire for warmth, to cook so that I can eat,” and just by looking at your leg, not knowing exactly what was going on beneath the bindings, you likely needed to cauterise the wound lest it got infected, too. You needed fire to do such a thing.

Tilting her head to the side, she then without warning leaned into your personal space with an intrigued sort of intensity. Her breath was warm against the cold air, generating a puff of steam as she spoke, “Fire… can’t happen,” she replied with a soft tone, tracing a path down your jaw with the back of her clawed finger, “you can get better with me.”

“But, but…” you piped up to argue, feeling ever stubborn, “I… humans,” you tried, pointing at yourself to convey understanding, “I need to cook my food and… and… I need warmth, I need to treat my wounds… I…”

Her eyes could only narrow as you listed off your demands for survival, seeming not quite annoyed but once again, perhaps a little apprehensive towards the admission of flames. She tried to help though, addressing one issue at a time, “Your wound?” she referenced first, lowering her hand and drumming a finger along the seaweed that wrapped around it. “It’s healing,” she stated as she unwound the makeshift gauze, revealing that it was looking quite better, almost impossibly so at the rate that had transpired, “it might feel… strange, because of the magic properties, so it tingles.”

You blinked, your brows knitting in slight confusion. “Magic…?” Were you dreaming, after all? Because otherwise, where exactly have you ended up where magic wasn’t just some make-believe concept found in stories?

She seemed to laugh a little at your surprise but nodded either way, her voice sounding assuring, “I can heal. It is my… ability. So you are safe with me.”

“O…kay,” you slowly replied, trying to accept the bizarre turn of events, the entire situation was already unreal, so you tried for now to accept the situation as it was laid out in front of you. “You’ll keep me healthy, right? But.. I still need warmth and the food issue…”

As you trailed off, she addressed the other point, aligning her body so that her form almost cuddled around you, enveloping you within her feathered form, her wings acting like plush blankets. You found yourself settling your back against her chest, finding that she provided a wealth of heat radiating from her being, surging an almost near-searing hotness that immediately stifled any goosebumps, that silenced any shivering.

“Oh…” you warily trailed off, “this… this is nice,” you admitted, settling into her body. In truth, you were still all sorts of terrified despite the comfort otherwise offered to you. You tended to run your mouth when you were nervous, never quite shutting up about what was happening around you, should an event be something you couldn’t understand nor feel safe in. It was a bad habit really, but you supposed that she didn’t see it as such, so this was already a pleasant change from what it was like back at home, where your inquisitive nature was often rather punished instead.

And instead of any conflicting response as you had so feared, this feathered creature didn’t once instruct nor snap at you to be quiet, nor even vaguely suggest it. Instead, she pulled you in tighter, allowing you to feel the full extent of the warmth she was capable of giving you. Although you couldn’t help but feel that there was something darker lurking beyond what she offered—at least when you caught fleeting glimpses of those eyes you couldn’t quite tear away from—no, there was something troubled deep down beyond what she let on, something… dangerous.

You tried your best to decipher the true meaning of what went on beyond that intensive stare but you couldn’t quite catch it. Instead, you just remained huddled tight against her, feeling as her fingers crept towards the seaweed, stroking delicate paths around the bindings until you felt something sharp. Her finger pushed a little too hard in, perhaps on accident, breaking through your tender skin. In response, you seethed out a whining gasp, jolting back in pained retaliation, at last snapping her out of the trance she seemed to be lost within.

“My apologies,” she replied in an almost blank tone before realising the extent of her damage, “I did not mean to…”

You furrowed your brows as you searched for a response, but before you could properly reply, she quickly parted away from you, covering you up in what made up her nest. Twigs, stray feathers, tufts of fur, and dried seaweed weaved over your body, planting her palms flat against your chest as a soft glow emitted from her own channeled healing energy. Slowly, you were lulled into what felt like a tired pull, something that anchored you toward an exhaustive state.

“Sleep,” she whispered, her voice like warm honey dripping smooth against your weary ears, “you will feel better again, and… I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Unable to fight the pull any longer, your eyes fluttered shut, feeling both in danger and yet comforted beyond your wildest comprehension at the same time.

~~~

Shoko ensured that you were secure and concealed within her nest, perfectly camouflaged and warm before she took a step back. She raised her fingernail that she scratched you with to her face, locking onto the remnants of your blood, feeling a surge of guilt sweep through her body.

You were just a human so why did she prolong your visit?

Sighing, she lept up and fluttered her wings with heavy fluttering beats, cruising herself back to the home island that wasn’t too far from the cliff she resided on. Surely, there must have been something edible that grew within the lush greenery that made up the land. Fire wasn’t an option, so perhaps something else would have to work for now. She tried to remember what humans liked, what they seemed to eat in contrast to her raw diet, understanding that you couldn’t eat the same way that she did, as frustrating as it was.

Slowly, she collected what looked to be suitable vegetation, but then she heard the landing whooshing flutter of the only two other beings that occupied the isles, scrambling slightly to hide the foraged contents under a cluster of fern nearby, pushing it back with her feet.

The first one landed first; a silvery bird-like man just like her with a sapphire sheen that reflected through his otherwise frosted feathers, regarding her with those stark crystal blue eyes that she had always found just a little bit unsettling. The other one followed suit, landing with a little less grace than his friend; the rolling gusts of wind generated from such heavy waves that the contents were revealed either way. She watched as he landed to a halt, pushing himself up from his knee to reveal his deep raven form with brooding amethyst eyes that stared right back at her.

“What are you up to?” the contrasting man spoke first in her own language; a complex string of cooing and chirping and whistling alike, his intense blue eyes catching wind of the fruits that gathered near where she stood. “What’s that?” he corrected his question, his voice adopting a playful edge as his curiosity got the better of him.

“It’s…” Shoko began, wondering where to even start.

Before she could continue though, he plucked a fruit from the ground, taking a bite and allowing for his expression to sour at the taste the second he processed it. “Ah,” he coughed, spitting out the contents onto the ground, “you wouldn’t like these, Sho.”

“It’s… not for me, Satoru,” she admitted with an unsure sigh, feeling apprehensive about revealing her findings—about revealing the concept of you.

“Then who is it for?” the darker-feathered man asked, his voice slightly more calculated, maybe even accusing as though sceptical about the company she kept.

“Do you have a new friend, Sho?” Satoru exclaimed with a thrilling buzz in his tone, almost naively so.

“You know we’re the only ones,” the other one replied, silencing his friend’s excitement before turning his sights back to her, “don’t tell me that they’re a…”

“Don’t question it too much Suguru,” Shoko replied, keeping her tone measured. “What I do in my own space isn’t for you to worry about.”

He scoffed a little, eying up the fruits and back to the direction she resided in. “Those pesky things had a wreck a while ago, that ship that littered itself into the seas. Surely you didn’t…?”

“A human?” Satoru interjected, seeming both curious and cautious at the same time. “But they…”

“Destroy,” Suguru completed his sentence for him, “they destroy, Satoru,” he then turned his sights back to Shoko, watching as she contemplated her next actions, his tone coming off as a little accusatory, but in his mind, rightfully so. “You know what those… things are capable of, right Shoko? Do you remember what they did to our home? I just can’t bring myself to understand… why you are looking after one… of… those?”

“I don’t know,” she murmured, “I just feel like there’s something different about this one.”

“Well,” Suguru sighed, “I’ll trust you to be careful,” he said as he gathered the fruits from the ground and gave them back to her one by one, “as long as you promise to return them at some point. You and I both know that they can’t stay here forever. They don’t belong here, after all.”

With that note, he lifted himself off the ground and flew away while Satoru lingered around for a moment longer, his playful demeanour fading away into something more sentimental, something more serious. “You have the best judgment out of all of us, you know? Whatever your decision is, even if Suguru doesn’t like it, will be the correct one, right?”

“Right,” she nodded, watching as he flew away too, leaving her with conflicted emotions as the weight of their words continued to linger in the air, inviting an almost suppressing aura of doubt. However, she too, soon returned to where she was prior, reuniting with you.

She emptied her findings in front of you, letting the contents spill over your lap as you slowly sat up, rubbing the sleep away from your eyes. Shoko stifled a snort as she watched you find something you were familiar with, digging into it with deep-rooted hunger, finding that she quite enjoyed your reactions.

Humans were something of an anomaly to her, maybe even to Satoru. She understood why Suguru was cautious, especially after the incident, but there was something different about you. She was sure of it.

Maybe it was the odd mannerisms or the way you spoke and seemed to fret over every little thing, how you annoyedly plucked out branches and twigs that poked through your clothes, how… perfectly content you were to cosy up to her when she got closer to you.

She watched on with curious intensity as you wiped your mouth, ready to speak.

“Can you… take me somewhere… more familiar?” you asked, trying to find the right words. “When I get better? I can figure my own way back… probably.”

The question however caught her off guard, remembering Suguru’s words about needing to return you. But that much was only when you were better, right? That could be reasonable enough of a condition. Her eyes flicked over to the crusted maroon that clung to the edge of her clawed fingers, adopting a deep, dark idea.

Loneliness had invited selfishness to manifest and now you were here. Ah, what a troubling thought, but… if it meant spending time with you for longer, then…

“Yes,” she replied with a sickly sweet tone, feigning a promise, “when you are ‘better’, then I can help you reconnect.”

Knowing that deep down, she wasn’t about to let you go back.

Not if she could help it.

this is part 3 of lilac’s bite sized yandere nightmares

[cakerybakery]

Adam double checks no one is paying attention to him at this stupid ceremonial heaven and hell bullshit thing when he connects to the internet in the mortal realm.

He taps open his hidden tabs and scrolls through cute or funny or cute and funny baby photos and videos floating around the internet. Looking at all his many times great grandkids.

He enjoys looking at how cute the little fuckers are. At how humanity had spread. At seeing snips of himself or Eve in the bastards. He takes pride in how well of job he did at multiplying even though he’s crap at math.

“What’s that?” Lucifer pops up under his arm and instinctively Adam threw his phone as far and hard as he could.

It crashed through the embassy window and out onto the streets of hell.

“FUCK! My fucking phone!” Adam was going to strangle the fucker! “What the fuck, man?”

The room turned to him and Adam couldn’t think fast enough on his feet.

“Uhhh. Shit.”

“You always were all thumbs, Adam.” Lucifer looked like the snake that ate the canary. “But I’ve never seen you fumble that badly before. I know I’m intimidating as the devil but that was a bit of an overreaction.”

The heaven and hell delegates turned back to what they were doing. Just an accident. Nothing important, like a declaration of war.

He grabbed Lucifer none to gently by the collar, “you’re going to help me find my god damn phone you god damned jack-in-the-box clown.”

Lucifer went to brush Adam’s hand off him and inevitably tell him to fuck off, Adam didn’t give him a chance and just dragged Lucifer out of the room as quietly as he could.

Out of the room, out of the embassy, out into hell, he dragged Lucifer. “Fucking start looking, asshole. My fucking phone has to be around here somewhere. There’s the window I broke.”

“Yeah, really not sure how this is my problem.” Lucifer fixed his jacket and stupid ass vest. “You threw your phone out a window. Hardly my problem.”

Ohhh, he was going to choke a bitch. “You popped up out of fucking no where and startled me.”

“Scared you.”

“Don’t. Don’t fucking start with me. My whole fucking afterlife is on that rectangular shit box. Just. Just fucking help me look for it, you slimy wife fucking cumstain.”

Lucifer leaned against the building. “Oh wow. I really want to help you now. Maybe if you say something nice I’ll help.”

“Lick my nuts.”

“So moving. I might shed a tear. Go fuck yourself, Adam.” Lucifer got up to leave and Adam groaned.

He didn’t want to try and find it alone. There were bushes and they were going to tear at his robe, he just fucking knew it.

“Fine. What do you want to hear?”

“Something true. Don’t forget, I’m the prince of lies, I know when I’m being lied to.”

“… your voice doesn’t fucking suck.”

Lucifer waited a moment and shrugged, “good enough.” With a small twist he turned into a mouse and scampered off into the thick bushes.

Adam searched the ground but his mask was making that nearly impossible. Sick of the mask making everything darker, necessary in a bright place like heaven, he took it off and left it by the wall.

Able to see better, he re-searched the ground. Sweeping his eyes over every rock and clump of grass.

“Awww is this what you were looking at? A bunch of babies?”

Adam snapped up and in the middle of the tangle of bushes was Lucifer. Scrolling through his fucking phone!

Adam flew at Lucifer to try and grab either the bastard or his phone but the asshole just hunkered down in the tangle of thorny bushes. The thorns snagged his arm and only with great effort did he break free.

“So why were you looking at babies?”

“None of your fucking business and I fucking wasn’t you- you- CUNT!” Fucking brilliant, Adam, he’ll never recover from that one. “Just, fucking give it back.”

He wanted to hit Lucifer with holy light but then he’d be in trouble and he didn’t need that shit.

“This one is kinda ugly.” Lucifer held the screen up to face Adam.

He gasped, “you take that back. Amber is beautiful. She’s one of my descendants and they’re all beautiful. It’s only once they start sinning they become an ugly like you.”

“… you know their names?”

“I know the names of all my descendants on Earth!” Adam was offended by the accusation that he wouldn’t know the names of his many times great grandchildren. “It’s only down here, when they change I don’t recognize their faces or names anymore.” He muttered bitterly to himself. They’re monsters. Mockeries of the people they once were. They deserved to die.

“All of them?” Lucifer opened a tab and searched for a random baby. “Who is that?”

“Jean. His parents and Susan and John.”

“… fuck, that’s true” He tapped around some more and did it again.

“Amiee-Lynn Postman, third child of Jack Postman and fourth of Mary Postman, maiden name Smith. She gave up her first child, Daniel when she was sixteen. Daniel was renamed Bennett by his adopted parents. They reconnected three years ago.”

It was all true. He knew everything about his descendants when it came to this. I couldn’t stop them from sinning or do anything to effect their lives, but he could enjoy the babies that came from their choices.

Lucifer looked surprised. “Huh. It looks like you’re telling the truth.” He threw the phone up and Adam caught it. “Why are you so embarrassed by looking at pictures of your grandkids? I show everyone I can pictures of my char-char.”

Adam rolled his eyes. He wasn’t embarrassed, he was… uhhh… a lie to tell himself didn’t come easily to mind.

“Speaking of, you want to see her baby photos?”

Lucifer was pulling out photos before Adam could stop him. Before he could tell him that he was only interested in kids related to hi- “oh fuck she’s adorable! Look at those big eyes. All that hair.”

He didn’t notice that Lucifer was flying beside him now. That he was being guided back to the steps as he eagerly looked through the baby photos. They sat out there as the gathering went on, Adam showing off his grandkids and Lucifer showing two hundred years worth of photos of Charlie from Lilith’s pregnant belly to one took the day before of Charlie doing paperwork and falling asleep at her desk.

It was only went Sera came to fetch him that they realized they had been sitting out there for so long.

Adam told her he’d be right in. She gave him worried look but nodded. Sera knew as he did that Lucifer was largely harmless. So long as he wasn’t being threatened.

The atmosphere turned awkward.

“Soooo…” Lucifer, started, “want to come over sometime and watch some old home movies of Charlie?”

“… yes.” Fuck it. He might as well embrace that he’s a cringy grandpa that loves babies. “But I also want to watch videos of my kids being cute.”

“Deal.” Lucifer held out his hand and Adam took it. He was yanked in closer, “of course if we get married she’d become one of your kids.” Lucifer let go and strolled back into the gathering to say goodbye to the delegates.

Adam was left on the step alone. He looked at his hand and the disappearing tailcoats of Lucifer.

The door shut.

“What. The. Fuck. Was that?!?” Was he fucking with him?

Lucifer was mostly harmless, this had to be one of his tricks. His pranks. He wasn’t serious, he was never serious.

Adam just wanted to look at cute baby photos. Why is Lucifer like this?? Why couldn’t the guy just be normal? Offering up another kid like that. The tease.

He was still going to go. He wanted to see the home movies of Charlie growing up. Even if they wouldn’t be baby videos. But if Lucifer laid one suggestive hand on him! He’d- he’d… he’d think of something.

He’d tell Lucifer to fuck off or something.

If that hand slid up his thigh, he’d tell Lucifer to stop. And if Lucifer didn’t, well, he’d just pause the video and he could properly tell Lucifer to fuck him.

…

To fuck off.

“God dammit.”

It wasn’t fair. He should be satisfied with how many kids he’s had. But if he married Lucifer he could have one more. And have more grand babies if she has kids.

Fuck god and fuck his instincts to have as many kids as possible.

Lucifer was in his head now. He dangled that carrot and like an ass, Adam wanted it.

Okay. New plan. Seduce Lucifer. Marry him. Spoil the fuck out of Charlie. Become her favourite parent. Divorce Lucifer. Keep Charlie.

What could go wrong?

[spacebaby1]

Helloooo May I request a law x any gender reader fic/headcanons where reader is also a survivor of the Amber led poisoning and WAS one of law’s friends from school (they weren’t close close friends). Reader managed to escape in time and somehow found a devil fruit that could also help her with the disease but it left her marks in her body which she is insecure abt (like faint white spots over her body and face.

Thank you and have a good day!

I love it when y'all request to write for Law Trafalgar! Enjoy! This hit home to me as girl with surgery marks left behind😩

Sitting in the small library table with medical books all over the table and almost hiding you behind then you searched for the solution. For the last few years of your life, you kept searching for a cure, a solution to why your devil fruit powers were limited and didn't help you recover fully.

The disease killed all of your loved ones. You weren't even sure how you got out alive because the only thing you remembered was passing on the school grounds and waking up in another village. Turns out a couple had found you, and someone took you out of the whole disaster. A fisherman had sold the devil fruit to your new guardians in exchange for a lot of gold promising them your recovery in return; which was absolutely true. You had gained your health back, well, part of it. Even though the illness was gone. Some marks were left behind for the world to always turn their head around to look at you. They weren't that bad, but they felt like a burden you had to carry. It was hard to figure out if the people looking at you on the streets were just looking or they were looking at your marks. Even if they were just on the left side of your face, you had learned to hide them; with your hair mostly or a scarf or a hat.

But you needed them gone only to come to no end with your research. With a sigh, you shut the last book, running your hands through your hair before getting up and returning the books to their shelves. The small island you had travelled to was a quite one, occasionally some rocky pirate would find their way there for food and supplies without causing trouble; you had once run into the most known pirate none other than Shanks himself. You had completely forgotten how to breathe because you had only seen him in the newspaper or his bounty poster, and seeing him in person was shocking, other than the fact that you feared pirates.

You sighed as you entered the small cafe and ordered a hot tea before sitting in the back and grabbing the newspaper to read before heading home. You flipped the pages, and your eyes caught a glimpse of a familiar someone. It was a bounty poster. Your eyes widened, and you burnt your lips with your tea as you read the name over and over.

Trafalgar Law

Trafalgar Law

The heart pirate?

It said that he could be heading east from polestar island; that's where the small island was. You gasped, standing up and grabbing your things before heading back to the library. Asking the lady there for any papers related to pirates or the heart pirate crew you gathered them and finally were sure that your long lost friend from childhood was a famous pirate. There wasn't much information about him other than his unique ship and crew. Later that night, you were walking home with that newspaper in your hand; the island was lively at night because of all the singing and partying at the bar from the drunk pirates. You stopped in track when you noticed the new ship, and it looked different than the others. A lady who worked at the bar had just come out from the backdoor and saw you. She waved, and you smiled at her, "they never stop partying." She spoke, and you nodded, " I can hear them from all the way down the road." She laughed, "there are new ones, and they seem less lively, but I think they will not stay long -"

"The heart pirate crew?" You asked clinching on the newspaper hopefully to see Law. She shrugged, "Not sure, but they do seem different. Anyways, you're welcome to join the party, I'll head back inside." You waited a few minutes after the lady went back in. You didn't know why, but the thought of walking in and the possibility of seeing Law was driving your heart insane. It wasn't like you two were best friends, but you were classmates and "friends" when you were in school, everyone is your friend. Law wasn't the friendliest with a lot of the students, but he was always nice to you and would help you with your homework. The thought of him being alive and safe after everything that happened made your eyes tear up; you did think about him often after you survived and the guilt of him dying made you have nightmares sometimes, you never forgot about him because he was still your friend. Slowly making your way towards the bar, you stopped and backed away just standing there, not knowing what to do. Just then, someone exited the doors and stood to the side. You could recognise the hat from anywhere. You breath hitched when you saw him, for a second he looked at you then away probably not recognising you in the dim street lights, he looked around before making his way towards the door and just when he was about to enter- "Pookie Head!" You called out; a nickname you gave him when you were little because you kept teasing him about his hat having spots that reminded you of your dresses, the polkadot dresses that you owned as a kid. Law stopped in his track, hand on the bar door, you let out a sigh you weren't sure that you were holding. His eyes widened at the familiarity with that silly nickname. No one else called him that name except for you. He turned around with wide eyes staring at you and dropped his katana that he was holding over his shoulder. "N-nice hat." You felt a tear slip on your cheek as you chuckled. "Y/N-YA?" He asked, rushing towards you, not caring about his katana. You weren't expecting him to fully embrace tightly so much so that you almost fell backwards.

The hug was enough for him to know that it was indeed you. He recognised your aura immediately as he wrapped his arms around you. "You're alive. You're alive." He kept mumbling to himself. "So are you, I missed you, thought I'll never see you again." You were laughing but started to cry as you held onto him because the memories of everyone; you family, your friends came rushing to you and that horrific day. "I was so s-scared." You cried, and he caressed your hair, "I know, I know. But -" He pulled back cold hands cupping your face, "you're okay? You're-how-i mean- h-how did you - " he went to remove your hair from the left side of your face, but you stopped him, placing your hand on his and shaking your head. "D-Don't look at me. The marks never left." You said, looking down and hiding your face behind your hair. "Don't hide from me, I spent my whole life thinking you're d-," he sighed, not able to say the word.

Gently, he cupped your face, "Look up at me, let me see you." You sighed and looked up as he gently and carefully pushed your hair behind your ear. He smiled at you. "You're still as gorgeous as the day I saw you last." You couldn't hold your tears and tried to look away, but he stopped you, "hey, hey. I promise you I'm being honest. It's not bad, not as bad as you think it is. Just let me look at you, please." You looked down, "I tried everything b-but I get rid of them, I can't look at myself without reminding myself that I'm always there between all my friends a-and they're dead but I'm not." You cried it was true; every time you'd walk past the mirror, it only reminded you of the reflection of that day, and it was agonising. "But how did you survive?" You asked him between sobs, and you saw the hurt look on Law's face, "Cora-San, he died to save me. He put his life to get me the devil fruit." Your eyes widened, "d-devil fruit? That's what I ate, and it healed me but not the spots and marks. I-I just can't figure it out how to use it. Sometimes, I'll heal others and myself randomly, but I don't know how to use it. I'm a complete idiot, I didn't even know that you can't swim if you're a devil fruit eater." You said that last part with a confused look that you always had when you couldn't do your homework as a kid and it reminded Law of the old days and how used to think that pouty look was funny evertime you pulled it unintentionally.

He chuckled resting his hand on your head, "you've never been much of a swimmer and you fear the ocean." You smiled blinking the tears, "you still remember that I fear the ocean?"

He smiled at you, "I never forgot anything about you." He cupped your face, "You look tired, are you okay? Is it gone? The disease?" You nodded, rubbing your eyes. You didn't realise how tired you looked after spending hours and hours to find a cure for your marks. He sighed at the tired look of your before pulling you in a hug and you felt your eyes heavy with sleep, "you know I can help you with removing them, I'm sure I can if that's what you want." You looked up at him, "you would do that for me?" He nodded with a smile, "I don't see the difference in it because you're always beautiful to me, but if it makes you happy, I can figure it out if you want." You nodded happily because you did feel proud of surviving that horrible day, but you always wanted to for once look in the mirror and not remember the past just for that night. You rested your face on his chest and closed your eyes, falling asleep in his arms immediately; he's always been your safe haven.

The next morning, he had already warned his crew mates to not just burst into the surgery room because he wasn't sure if you wanted anyone to look at your face or make you uncomfortable. You sat there watching him go through his notes with the katana in hand before he forwarded it towards you to examine but you pulled your knees to your chest with a frightened look on your face, "Why is that huge katana in front of me? You're not gonna slice my face, are you?" He couldn't help but chuckle at your question before shaking his head and explaining to you the procedure to which you replied in an "ohh, okay." You just sat there with eyes closed, and he examined you. And when he figured it out, he explained to you that it would be an easy surgery and that you won't even feel it. He laid your head on the bed carefully, still holding your hand because he could see how much you were shaking. "Don't worry, I will not let anything happen to you. Okay?" You nodded, "good girl. I need Sachi to help me here. Is it okay if I bring him in?" You nodded again with a small smile. After Law was ready to start the surgery you still couldn't calm down, sachi offered his hand, "hey, you can hold on to my hand and squeeze it like a stress toy if you'd like. I've been told I'm a very calm machine." Law eyed him, "Sachi!" You laughed before holding Sachi's hand and closing your eyes, "thank you, sachi." He just chuckled.

No matter how hard you helf Sachi's hand he didn't even yelp but kept trying to calm you down by rubbing his thumb on your wrist and just like Law promised you didn't feel a thing not before falling asleep because of the peng and not after waking up to find Law standing by your bed as you slowly opened your eyes. "Hey, are you feeling okay?" You nodded sleepy, "I don't feel any pain." He smiled, "it's all done now. You won't feel any pain." You to find Sachi, and he waved at you to which you waved at him half asleep before turning towards Law reaching your hand for him which he immediately held, "What's wrong?" He asked. "C-Can I see?" You asked in a low sleepy voice. He nodded, helping you sit before handing you a small mirror. You blinked the blurry vision away and finally saw your reflection. The marks were gone, you didn't feel like the bad memories rushing in as you looked at your face, tears filled your eyes and you sniffled before reaching for Law and hugging his side, "T-thank you, Pookie Head." He laughed at the nickname before hugging you, "I'll do anything for my sweet girl, anything." Sachi got up, "Okay, I need to go." He said before rushing out. Meanwhile, you hugged Law and cried happy tears after so many years.