#i need to calm down because you know what?

[regthomas1728]

Bear with me, I’m gonna actually try writing…

***

Your humble sandwich shack was recently upgraded to a small hovel. You now do specialized drinks and sandwiches.

Of course, you also had to get better insurance when you moved into the rent to own two story building in the city.

Not just any insurance! You needed insurance to cover hero and villain damage. You live in the city that birthed the greatest heroes and deadliest villains. While the chance of being murdered is extremely low, the chances of losing a house or building due to the fights were incredibly high.

High enough, insurance companies decided to make a pretty penny on all the people of the city.

You owned a small business that was rapidly gaining popularity. To keep up with demand, you decided to capitalize on the idea of heroes and villains. You began catering to tourists and eventually became one of the reason people visited the big city.

You began naming items on your list after heroes. Sandwiches and drinks alike had catchy names such as “Spexpresso” in reference to the fastest hero and the fastest acting coffee any coffee addicts have had or the brisket sandwich called “Smoked Pixet” named after the fairy hero named Pixie.

You thought it was funny, some of the customers thought it was creative, but the real fun came in the drawn cartoons merging the heroes with their respective menu item.

You bought a couple tv’s to showcase any submitted art and attention for your sandwich joint grew.

It wasn’t until the second hero stopped in, in their hero getup, and ordered their sandwich that you realized you were at the top.

Hey! The first one might have been a fluke or an accident.

Maybe you fumbled over your words but everyone was star struck.

“Good sandwich, I’ll have to get Euro in to try the gyro.” The hero chuckled on his way out, taking another big bite of his sandwich.

The customers and you let out a big sigh—you hadn’t even realize you were holding your breath—and then the little caf filled with laughter. It didn’t die down for a week—your caf was expanding and it took so much out of you until you hired three more people. All three workers were college students and you hired them within two weeks of the second heroes visit.

A few months later, your menu had changed greatly as new heroes wanted a spot on the menu and heroes already on the menu wanted to change certain ingredients.

You catered to a fee and stood your ground with most. The heroes respected you more for that as did the customers. You still made their sandwiches the way they preferred when they came in.

It was crazy for you to think about. You knew the orders of some of the most popular heroes and they came at regular intervals to get their lunch or dinner.

Marketing heard about your setup and chose to setup times where heroes would take photos with fans. You were gaining publicity and hero agencies were jumping on the band wagon.

You politely declined interviews or let your employees sub in. You weren’t someone who liked to be on camera and even the smooth talking lava rock hero couldn’t make you budge.

He did enjoy the spicy sandwich you made in his honor.

After all the humbug settled, you found a steady rhythm. But, all good things must come to an end.

After closing shop at 10:00pm, you were on your way to the car when you heard a voice call out to you from across the lot.

You turned at the sound, startled and trying to remain calm. Just because murders didn’t happen often didn’t mean they never happened. You were desperate not to be in the three percent.

“Why haven’t you made sandwiches for villains?”

“What?”

“Villains eat to, ya know?”

Not that you hadn’t thought of it but you didn’t think it’s go over very well. Not with heroes frequenting your place.

“I’m not too sure that’s a good idea. I don’t need heroes and villains fighting at my restaurant. I have insurance but it could never be that good.”

The man stepped out of the shadows and you realized you just told the most wanted villain no.

“Work on those sandwiches and I’ll work on a compromise.”

“You sure? I could just make you a sandwich under the table…? You could stop out back and grab it to go?”

The villain, covered in shadows and red (was that blood?), shook his head and took a step back.

“No. Put our sandwiches on the menu after a weeks time.”

“It’ll take longer than that to establish a villains menu and a good advertising strategy.”

“Well…I’ll have the hero and villain compromise figured out by then. The timeline isn’t up to you. I look forward to your work.”

“You’re not going to kill me if you don’t like the sandwich, are you?”

With shadows covering his exit, all you heard was an evil laugh that reminded you despite his absurd request, he was still a villain who made up one or two percent of the kills in the city over the last ten years. Okay…maybe not that many but you knew it was a lot! You just didn’t know ALL the statistics regarding heroes and villains.

While a normal person may have brought the conversation up to one of the many visiting heroes or maybe called the police, you brought out your folder of dreams and got to work on sandwich ideas.

And sure, you told the shadow villain that it would take more than a week to get started on this idea but you may have lied. It would take no time to start the menu—no the real issue was convincing civilians and heroes to accept a few changes.

One of the changes would be making a seasonal menu. Which would not correlate with actual seasons but rather about keeping scores between favorites sandwiches and drinks.

The advertising took some time and planning, you only had a rough outline of what that would look like.

By the end of the week, you were positive you’d be getting another visit from the shadow villain but it wasn’t him who called out to you in a parking lot. It was the number one hero.

“Y/n. I’ve heard a lot about you and your sandwich shop.”

“But you haven’t tried anything? That’s a real shame.” You smiled, turning your key into the car and starting the heat. You sat in the seat with your hands in your pockets and the door open. The hero walked a bit closer but kept a respectable distance.

“I heard you got a visit a week ago from…a mutual acquaintance.”

You frowned, your brow crinkling.

“I think? I think I know who you’re talking about.”

“Do you get so many visits from villains?” There seemed to be genuine concern in the pull of his smile. “He’s requesting your restaurant be made neutral territory. No arrests, no fights.”

“Sounds like an ideal insurance policy.”

The hero grimaced but nodded.

“I’ve agreed. I’m sure it wont be much use but I’ll ask anyway. One, is he pressuring you?”

“Not really. I’ve had the idea in mind for a while.”

“I thought so. So, is there any chance you tell me who he is?”

“I don’t know him. But even if I did, I wouldn’t put myself in the middle of the most powerful villain and every hero and hero agency. I’m powerless not stupid.”

The hero seemed surprised by your response but quickly covered it with a small smile.

“Right. Well, if you need help or if any of the villains try anything, I’d feel a lot better if you had this.”

He took a step forward and held his hands out, dropping a small device in your open palm.

“If you press that button, it’ll call me directly. You don’t have to say anything when it calls—very few people have it and know to only use it in an emergency. I’ll come running.”

“Flying.” You correct lightly with a soft smile.

“Flying.”

Business returned to normal and within a month you were preparing the advertisements and informing your regular customers of the upcoming menu additions and changes.

Heroes were a bit distant at first, not excited about the change, but the number one hero quickly helped with the transition by becoming a regular customer. He visited and chatted with you every Friday.

Villains, on the other hand, were much quicker to visit and test the boundaries set by both heroes and villains.

Just when you’d had enough, the shadow villain you hadn’t seen since the night he proposed the new menu showed up.

“I believe I made myself clear! Neutral territory. No stake outs, only steak cuts!”

That earned a laugh from you, nervous chuckles from civilian patrons, and an earnest smile from a couple heroes.

“I’ll have a conversation with you after your shift. I shouldn’t have had to find out from that snotty number one hero that you were having difficulties with my crew.”

“Don’t you threaten me, Shadows.”

“Shadows?”

“I don’t know your name, sorry.”

“I’m literally the number one villain. I have a reputation that exceeds me. I’m a symbol!”

“Bit egotistical, don’t ya think?”

Luckily, he was in a playful enough mood to see the joke for what it was.

“Perhaps. I’ll take the sandwich you have undoubtedly made after me. I’m surprised I haven’t seen it in the advertisements.”

“I wanted to wait until you had tried it.”

“Naturally. Only you would make a guinea pig of me.”

You took fifteen minutes to make his sandwich and his sidekicks drink. You brought it out, a breath nestled deep in your chest clawing out but unable to until he stamped his approval on the sandwich you made with him in mind.

“How is it?” The number one hero stood directly behind the most wanted villain with a bright smile on his face.

With his mouth full, the villain rearranged it into his cheek to say: “Give me a second to savor it.”

The hero looked down, his hands on his hips as he awaited the answer you were eagerly shaking for. You were jumping with excitement as he took another bite.

“It’s a winner!!” You did a little happy dance and the few people watching cheered with you, grinning almost as madly as you were. Almost.

“Yeah, it’s pretty good. I’ll give you that. I’m not a pickle person, though.”

“I’ll tell you like I’ve told everyone else! That is a damn good sandwich and I’ll be damned if I’m gonna change it because of personal preference.”

The cheers died down, the hero shifted his weight from his front foot to his back, subtly getting in a defensive position.

“Fair enough.”

“I’ll still make you a sandwich without pickles but that’s the one going on the menu. Glad you like it.”

The villain walked out with a small smile that disappeared into the shadows along with him. That grin was the last thing you saw of him.

“I’ve never seen anyone talk to him like that.” The hero spoke with note of admiration and shock, eyebrows nearly to his forehead.

“I won’t back down to anyone.”

“I suppose that’s a good trait to have. Almost gave me a heart attack but, a good trait nevertheless.”

He ordered the same sandwich and complimented you with a wink.

“When do I get a sandwich?”

You own a sandwich shop in the heart of a superhero city. After gaining customers by making sandwiches based on heroes, you decided to try making some based on villains. Today, a villain stopped to review theirs.

[evieelyzabethh]

"chateu"

⭒is it a dream or is it all in the past, i just thought i'd ask"⭒ Arcane characters and comfort {fem reader}

cast ✧ Vi, Ekko, Jayce, Viktor, Mel

cw☞ slightly pervy jayce, mentions of period sex, a bunch of fluff, that's about it

♞Vi♞

♞Vi's comfort is both physical and verbal. Vi is constantly in awe of you, she can't fathom the idea of you thinking you're less than, too dumb, not pretty enough, not worthy enough. She is also very aware. She's a watcher and a listener. She is very good at getting to the root of the rot, she knows that it's not just this one occurrence, it's a reaction caused by something deeper within you. I feel like Vi is much more emotionally intelligent than a lot of people give her credit for, it's just not knowing how to carry it out.

♞I feel like sometimes, she wouldn't get frustrated, but it would take a bit of a toll on her when you aren't as perceptive as she is. Sometimes it takes a lot of walking through the process to get you to understand what she's telling you. She is more than willing and does praise you until she's blue in the face, but she realizes that sometimes words from an outside source can't fix anything if you don't believe it yourself.

♞This applies to larger problems, but Vi would also be good on occasions if you were simply having a bad day. As someone who's had a bad life, she knows how you feel. You want to be left alone for a bit? She completely understands. You just want a hug? She is there with open arms and immediately chides you the second you try to apologize for getting snot on her jacket.

♞Speaking of which, Vi hugs are one of the most comforting hugs you can ever receive. She's just so warm and big and you are completely surrounded by her as she cradles your head into your chest and hums in your ear. She just has such a calming voice; her presence itself is comforting. I also think she would shed a few tears herself when comforting you. It heals the part of her that couldn't save Powder. She holds a lot of guilt about that, so much so that her comfort to you feels rehearsed, like she's been repeating those reassurances for years.

♞As much as you need comforting, Vi would need her fair share too. She never let go of that big sister/leader persona, she thinks her problems are too small compared to the world around her. She tries to fix her problems with logic to push down her feelings and most definitely is someone who thinks that letting those big feelings out is unproductive. This being said, you don't get a chance to comfort Vi until it becomes too much for even her to handle and she randomly breaks down.

♞Comfort is very foreign to her. The last time she received it consistently and healthily was from Vander and then her life went to shit, and she was thrown in prison for like a decade. Stillwater is not a nurturing environment, Zaun certainly wasn't either, even the comfort she received from Vander was more akin to tough love rather than something softer. She can be soft with you, but she finds it hard to accept it herself. It's a battle for her to just be in your arms and allow you to tell her its ok. She knows it'll be okay because she's gonna fight like hell to make sure it's ok. She hates feeling out of control. She's not used to someone trying to fix things for her; she's not used to someone being there for her.

♞She has a lot of tears to get out. Vi has built high walls of anger, but below that is a chasm of sorrow. When she finally breaks down, it feels like an endless stream of tears until she physically cannot cry anymore and is forced to heave in your arms until she either falls asleep or sits in silence, empty. It's very overwhelming, but she can't deny that when she can catch her breath, she feels brand new.

★Ekko★

★Ekko may not be a doctor, but he's a chef which makes the experience more than bearable. The second he sees your complexion get sickly, your wincing every time you move, and your coughs getting more and more phlegmy, he is immediately freaking out. He's running to get a thermometer, he's rifling through the medicine cabinet for whatever the canon equivalent of NyQuil is, he has a trash can set by the bedside in case you begin to feel nauseous.

★Despite his preparedness, I don't think Ekko is great at being sick or being around the sick. It feels like an utter waste of time, waiting around in the house for the illness to pass. Sickness is one of those issues you can't be active in fighting, the best action is to rest and sweat it out, and he is so antsy. It's a lot better if you're sick, you can't lie to him and try to pretend you're well when you aren't. Even if you try and fight him on it, you don't make it very far. Your achy joints keep you up at night, making you completely exhausted throughout the day. Your headache is so debilitating you have spots in your vision. Your throat is so sore, it physically pains you to argue with him about how you're totally not sick and he's being a complete mother hen.

★No; no matter how hard you protest, you are absolutely bed bound as Ekko works warm soup down your gullet even when you can't stomach it yourself but the rational part of you knows it'll make you feel better. The warm green tea he brings you has some tonic dissolved into it; the medicinal taste covered by a few tablespoons of sugar to avoid the bitter bite. He doesn't even flinch when you cough or sneeze into yet another tissue which is soon to be added to the growing pile in the trash. He only wraps you tighter, so you sweat out your fever faster while softly rubbing your aching shoulders. The thought of getting sick does cross his mind, but he's more preoccupied with his poor girl.

★A surprise to no one, Ekko gets sick right after you do, though he is far less compliant. He knows that you see right through his bullshit excuses. Babe, I don't have a fever, I always run hot. What do you mean I have a bad cough? I've just been clearing my throat. I don't get sick; I have too good of an immune system. I never been sick a day in my life. Even worse, he truly believes it himself. In truth, Ekko isn't someone who gets sick often, it's usually one bad bug every year or so. When he does get sick, it usually lasts a few weeks, the first being very mild and then eventually whittling him down to a bed-bound state.

★His bug only worsens the annoyance he feels when sick, you're almost glad when he loses the energy to argue back when you tell him to lie down. When Ekko's sick, it feels more like date nights than a hospital trip. Ekko can't stand silence or boredom which means a movie is playing for as long as he's bed bound. Aside from his mucous infested coughs, his constant shuddering through multiple layers of blankets, and a bowl of soup instead of popcorn; you could barely tell that this wasn't a movie date.

★If there is one thing Ekko enjoys about being sick, it's being taken care of. After he swallows his pride and that disgusting cough medicine, he can appreciate being doted on. Even though he's sick, he'll use a fake yawn as an excuse to wrap his arm around you and ask do you come 'round here often? His joking attitude is usually a good sign that his weeks in hell have finally passed and the light at the end of the tunnel (post sickness kisses) are finally on the table.

❂Jayce ❂

❂Someone once made a joke that Jayce would be the type to make a post on twitter like "I just found out about how bad period pain is. Can't believe our beautiful women go through that every month. If only I could go through periods for them, so they no longer have to suffer (I'm 6'7 btw)" and, well...yes! On a more serious note, I don't think he'd be the type to be super on top of it. He's too busy to have something like a calendar tracking it, though when the time comes, he's very quick to act. While he may be unprepared, he's not incompetent.

❂As soon as you tell him you started, he switches the light bed sheets to darker ones. All he needs is a list of your needs, your preference on pads or tampons or menstrual cups, if you wear them, what size pad you need, heating pads, pain meds, anything and everything you may need is currently being bought. He also isn't the type to be ashamed to go to the register with it, he truly does not think it's a big deal and is confused at any sort of weird stares he gets.

❂He is also over cautious. The second you look like a little woozy, he's right by your side asking if you need to sit down. He's standing around the bathroom while you shower genuinely scared you might pass out due to the amount of blood loss. I don't think he's squeamish around blood, but I do think he'd constantly worry that it's too much. Like how are you still alive after bleeding that much for like a week straight 12 times a year?! He thinks the female body is a scientific wonder.

❂He's also great when it comes to the emotional component. The second your hormones get out of whack, and you start to think too hard about your bloating or ragged you look or how weak you feel, he's right there with a large warm hand on your tummy telling you that you are being ridiculous. His very scientific brain comes in handy, something about his calming voice telling you exactly what your body is doing sounds enough like a documentary to put you to sleep.

❂If you work in the lab with him, he offers to let you skip work for the week, being completely surprised if you insist on still coming in. He does his best to accommodate you, going the extra mile to pack your lunch and making you sure you eat it, ensuring that you're staying on top of your water, he brings pain killers with him in case your cramps get too bad. You and Viktor roll your eyes a bit at his antics. You try to assure him you've had a period for years at this point and it's really not that big of a deal, but he insists on it anyway. All he knows is that you're in pain and he doesn't like that.

❂Now, pre-apocalypse Jayce does not do period sex. You're already hurting, and he while he read that sex can help with cramps, he also knows you're super sensitive and that stretch is going to hurt even worse. If you asked, he'd oblige, making sure to be extra soft and gentle, only pushing half-way in as he coos and brushes the hot tears from your eyes. Post-apocalypse Jayce is far less careful. I wouldn't say he doesn't care, but he understands the concept of a little bit of pain for a lot of pleasure. He's still sweet, carefully covering your sheets with layers of towels and folding a couple under your hips, but his strokes could convince you he's trying to fuck your period away. You'd be lying if you said you didn't feel better after, though.

☽Viktor☾

☽Viktor is not one to beat around the bush at all; he never even liked the man to begin with. It started with something small, like the lack of effort he put into dates or forgetting your birthday, and ever since then things just snowballed until every offense was break-up worthy to him. He didn't hold the door open? Break up with him. He was a bit too flirty with the waitress when you went out to eat? Break up with him! You caught him talking to his ex? BREAK UP WITH HIM!

☽Before the breakup, he is not soft about it at all. The first few gossip sessions were all fun and games but the more you talked about him, the more his dislike grows until he hates the guy and he's only physically seen him a couple times. He refuses to even be in the same room as the man, he says it's because the mere thought of him literally makes him sick and he's sure seeing his actual face will genuinely kill him.

☽He doesn't know what you see in him, and neither do you after the fact. Hindsight really is 20/20. Viktor truly isn't that great with comfort until he sees how seriously upset you are. You're crying over a tub of ice cream with a rom com playing in the background as you blubber about how all of your relationships fall apart and you just don't know where you went wrong, and he's truly confounded on how you're this upset over a toad.

☽This all being said, he's very supportive. It's a lot of work to swallow his sarcastic remarks and roll his eyes less, but the sincerity of his comfort is very easy. It's not instinctual for him to sit there while you cry in his arms, but the kind words he murmurs, you deserve better than that, you deserve a love greater than you even ask for, you deserve even more than the world, you deserve the better world he wants to create. And he doesn't want to sound smarmy or jealous, like some loser who was waiting in the wings for the breakup even Jayce saw coming from a mile away, but if he cared less about what you thought of him; he'd say you deserve him.

☽He realizes it's much too soon, so he buys you ice cream and tells you that you look pretty even when your mascara is running, and your hair is in a state of disarray, and he genuinely means it. He's most valuable for his honesty, it's why you came to Viktor in the first place. He was always honest about how he felt about your ex, even when he was holding his tongue, his expression said all the words he was too nice to say. So, when he tells you that yes, you're still pretty, he may be holding back.

☽It helps that he's funny and can be a tad impulsive. You want to slash his tires? Only slash 3 so that his insurance doesn't cover it. You wanna burn his clothes? He'll make you a pocket flamethrower just to do so. Even better than being open to violence and destruction, he's great at not getting caught. Though he doesn't believe in lying to you, dishonesty drips from his lips like honey.

☽When the crying and the disappointment fades and you feel good enough to joke about how you wasted too much of your time on a man outrunning wisdom, Viktor does slowly try to show you exactly what you deserve.

☼Mel☼

☼While Mel knows the importance of the exterior, she thinks its utterly ridiculous that you can think you aren't pretty enough. She knows insecurities are hard. 'The grass is greener on the other side' really isn't the comfort most people think it is. Sometimes it's well worth it to face the consequences of achieving what you've wanted. Whatever it is, acne, being flat chested, noticeable scars, being different is just hard. It doesn't matter how much your differences make you unique, it really is easier to be like everyone else.

☼She tells you every chance she gets how beautiful she thinks you are. To pretend that inside beauty is all that matters is simply a lie, she interacts daily with people whose heads are full of air, but people only respect them because they are a pretty face with full pockets. She knows it sounds untrue to you, but that's why she tells you so often. Not in despite of anything, not because of anything, you're just stunning.

☼Since you're already hyper-focused on your insecurity, I think she'd ignore it. Honestly, she doesn't think of it at all. It's about as noticeable to her as the color of your eyes or how tall you are, it's a miniscule detail that doesn't define you, it's just another feature. It's nothing important to her, and she wishes it didn't bother you.

☼While you are all adults, she knows that some lack the decorum necessary to not make their judgements known and it bothers her deeply. Anytime anyone speaks on it, she rolls her eyes. She thoroughly thinks it's beneath you to be bothered by it. Not only is it low-hanging fruit, but it's a sign of deficient intellect. They couldn't insult your intelligence, your competence, or anything about you that actually mattered, they had to go for your appearance, and she will tell them as such. She is very good at her professional insults.

☼As much as she compliments you, she emphasizes your other traits. If you're a writer, an artist, a dancer, any skill you have that you built for years or any talent you were just born with, she dedicates a lot of time to participating and validating it at any chance she gets. She wants you to take pride in something else, something that no one can take from you. Looks fade throughout the years, everyone is eventually going to be cast aside as their hairs grey and their teeth start to fall out. Knowledge never grows obsolete. Besides, people with legitimate interests and hobbies are too busy doing things they enjoy ruminating on how they look.

☼She knows it isn't what you want to hear, but it is what you need to hear sometimes. You are perfect just the way you are. She has never had any desire or want to change you. She has never imagined you any other way than the way you are. She doesn't want anyone who looks different than you, she doesn't want you because of the way you look. Of course, she thinks you're beautiful, but that doesn't matter to her. Never has and it never will. Just as she has faith that you aren't with her for how she looks, she hopes you have faith that you looks are not a determining factor for why she's with you. You are just you and she wouldn't want you any other way.

[umadosedepascal]

DIRTY HOLIDAY | Pedro Pascal X f!reader | One Shot

Written by Santa Trindade

Banner by @missyorkswhore

Made in Brazil

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x f!reader

Summary: You go with friends spend the holidays in Mexico, such a coincidence to be at the same resort as Pedro. What a world, so small huh?

wc: 3.7k

rating/warnings: [little surprising plot] [Pedro being Pedro][unprotected PIV][oral sex m/f] [alcohol comsuption] [Curse words]

a/n: C’MON GUYS. Do I need to explain myself after yesterday pictures and videos? NO. FUCKING HELL NO. wtf Pedro.. WHY is he so fucking hot??? WTF. 😭

You are going with your friends to Mexico to spend the holidays this year. It was a tough decision to make because you always spend the holidays with family, but this time you decided to try something new away from home since your whole family always judges you. Your dad always comes to you saying, “You’ve been drinking a lot, my baby; slow down…”

All you want to say is that you are a grown woman and do whatever you want, but every year you keep behaving as an angel to them.

You and your girlfriends get on the airplane on the 24th, heading to Mexico for 2 weeks.

All of you are very excited and feeling some freedom in the air.

“Hell yeah, the first thing we get there will be a round of tequila shots… you gotta deal with me…” and your friends laugh with your sassy attitude.

A promise is a promise. You check in, change to your bikinis, and go to the bar by the pool.

“Hey buddy, 3 shots of tequila, por favor?”

The barman looks at you with half-closed eyes. “ID first, my ladies; you look under 18…”

Although you are all over 27, actually, you three hand your IDs on the counter and look around the pool waiting for your drinks.

One of your friends comes to you and says, “Hey, isn’t that guy from….”

Your jaw drops, your legs start trembling and shaking, trying to hold on to something and not to fall… “YES?”

Pedro is lying down on a sun chair in red shorts, drips of water are running down to his bare chest, and he is really deep into a book.

“I need my shot RIGHT NOW!” You say loudly to your friends, trying to compose yourself at the same time.

They know you have a crush on him and talk nonstop about his work, so this is going to be a wild trip if you get to meet him even for a second.

“Second round is on me; let’s do it,” one of your friends says.

All you can think about is him. You don’t stop to look in his direction and try to plan how to approach without being a silly, stupid, drunk idiot.

The most down-to-earth friend of yours tries to calm you down, saying that you will have your chance, etc., but you are so far away in your thoughts that you ask for a large margarita and tell them you're going to take a sun chair as close as possible to him and see what happens.

“You crazy! But yeah, good luck; I hope he’s not a dick with you…” one of them tells you, hopeless, not trying to hurt your feelings.

“Dick? Yeah, I want some dick… You laugh, already buzzed, walking towards the chair right next to his.

As long as you get near him, by himself, still deep into the book.

You already worked up the courage and asked, “Hi, is this chair taken?”

He gives a side eye, looking at you from head to toe. “No darling, all yours…”

As you sit on the chair, you can hear your friends from the bar cheering like party animals.

You look at him saying, “Jeez, these people know how to party, huh?” Hoping he didn’t see you before taking shots with them a few moments ago.

“Yeah, yeah… young people... having their time…” he says with a smooth voice.

You feel relief because he didn’t see you before with them and anxious at the same time because YES, you could start a chit chat with him.

“Erm, yeah…” You don’t know how to keep this going and pick anything that you find inside your ecobag just to create other possible ways to talk.

Lay down on the chair, put on your Ray-Bans, and open the FUCKING MAP of the resort.

Jesus, what am I doing? Should I say I know him? Should I just ask what he is reading or maybe wait for another brief comment coming from him?

You can see by the side of your eye that from time to time he looks at you, but very, very fast, you just hold that giant map, feeling like you're on mushrooms with empty thoughts on your mind.

You’ve got your friends getting drunk and cheering for you from the bar and the hottest guy in the world by your side.

Think wisely…

You grab your drink from the side table and sip it.

“Is that good?” He asks you.

Pretending like you got scared, almost dropping the fancy glass on the floor… “Did you just.. talk to me? Um, well, I had better ones. But this one isn’t bad at all…” you describe your drink with a shy smile.

What the fuck did I say???

He chuckles, closing his book and now sitting down on the chair.

“Hm... 3-star review? I’m getting one myself; I like cheap stuff.”

You simply just give a “ha” to him as he stands up and walks towards the bar.

Your friends get wild; at this point, they might think he is going to talk to them for sure.

You immediately look at them trying to mimic something like, “Nooooo, noooooo, don’t say shit, you motherfuckers!!!”

You are in a panic because you know them and what they are capable of, especially under alcohol influence.

But they understand wrong; they know you always need a hand in terms of trying to flirt with someone else.

You see one of them approach him, saying something and looking at you at the same time.

You are screwed up. You know.

The only thing you can do now is wait for your end, getting big gulps of your drink and trying to calm down.

He comes back with a wild smile on his face saying, “I just met your friends over there; they told me things... you don’t need to hide anything…”

You sit down quickly. “What? Hahaha, they… They are buzzed; don’t believe in what they say…”

He keeps looking at you with half-closed eyes. “Hmm,” he sits on his chair sipping his drink and says, “Yeah, it’s not that bad at all…”

You simply don’t talk for some moments; your anxiety is building up like a pressure cooker.

Until then… “Hey Pedro… I’m sorry… I just wanted to say hi, but I’m already drunk, and I don’t know how to start a proper conversation. They probably told you I’m a sucker for you… and the ‘dick’ thing as well. Don’t get me wrong; I’m not a stalker; I don’t want to bother you. I just think you're awesome, and it was a stupid idea to come over right here, right now.” You run over words.

“Wow, wow, wow, they just told me to be nice to you, haha, because you care... about me.” Pointing to himself.

After you say all that with a flushed cheek, you let out a loud laugh looking at your friends that are already out of sight. You get more desperate saying sorry a million times, trying to compose yourself.

“What more did they say?”

“That you are awesome and know everything about my stuff, but with moderation… I don’t know what they meant, but yeah, I just didn’t catch your name…"

You tell him your name with eyes open and disbelief that your friends, for the first time, did a good job, but not you… not you.

“What’s the dick thing you told me?” He asks you with a smirk.

“Aaah, nothing… being a dick… that’s it.” You say, looking to the ground with shame.

He grabs you by the chin and says, “I would never be a dick to a beautiful girl like you…”

You feel a shiver down to your spine when he touches you like that.

Oh shit…I’m already wet without even getting into the pool.

“I, I think I need to… brb…” You leave everything behind and go straight to the toilet, locking the door and sitting there.

Breathe in, breathe out.Ok, I will just grab my stuff and disappear…What did I do?

As soon as you open the door, Pedro is there waiting…

“I usually don’t do things like that; it can be the vibe, my drinks, or even Xmas. I don’t know…” He says, grabbing your hips, pushing you back to the toilet, and closing the door behind him.

“Is that what you wanted? hm" He rubs his beard on your face, searching for your mouth.

He guides your hands to his growing bulge while running his right hand from behind you, rubbing one finger over your pussy.

You moan when he rubs his finger roughly against you…

“So wet already for me…” he says in between sloppy kisses.

“Since the moment I spotted you here, yeah…” you whisper, with both hands stroking his cock over the shorts…

Then Pedro takes you slowly to the sink and sits you there, spreading your legs…“Let me see what you got, beautiful… spread more…” putting your bikini bottom aside and lowering to the same level.

You grab his wet hair with one hand while he tongue darts you deep, sucking your lips and moaning low with pleasure…

You don’t even blink, just looking down at him savoring you, such a tease.

No fucking way this is happening…

You can feel his nose rubbing against your clit; you are getting close to the edge, but suddenly people knock at the door…

“Oh dammit…” You murmur disappointedly.

Pedro stops his worship on you and tells you with a low voice, “My room isn't far... want to see what naughty presents Santa has for you?" His fingers trace small patterns on your thighs, making you shiver.

“But we need to be discreet… What’s your room number? I meet you there…”

Pedro chuckled softly, his breath tickling your ear. "Discreet, huh? I like the way you think." He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your earlobe as he whispered, "Room 217, second floor."

Luckily nobody is at the door anymore, so you sneak out the toilet.

You try to find your girls just to quickly freak out and disappear again, but there's no sign of them.

You come back to the pool area, and Pedro isn’t there anymore; you bite your lip, get a deep breath, take your stuff, and go towards the elevator.

Room 217

You knock twice.

The door slowly creaks open, revealing Pedro standing there, his shirt half unbuttoned, revealing his chiseled chest. He's holding a bottle of tequila and two glasses. His eyes roamed over your body hungrily.

Stepping aside to let you in, he whispers suggestively, "Merry Christmas to me, indeed." He gently shut the door behind you, his free hand trailing down your arm. "Hope you like tequila..."

“Hm, yeah, better be careful… right?

Pedro's eyebrows shot up, a devilish grin spreading across his face at the memory. "Ah, but that was just a sample of what I can do sober. Imagine what I'm capable of now, all loosened up." Doing a little dance…

Then he pours two generous glasses of tequila, sliding one towards you before picking up his own. "I've got a list of naughty things I want to do with you..."

Oh, he wants to play a game…I’m just gonna faint 😮‍💨

“Oh… tell me more…” You push him to the sofa, sitting on his lap.

A deep, sexy chuckle escapes his lips as he lets you push him onto the sofa, his hands immediately finding your curves. "Mmm, you're being a naughty girl..." He takes a sip of his tequila, then offers you the glass. "You first."

“My list? With you... it is an extensive list. Better you tell me yours first…”

Pedro leans back into the sofa, a confident smirk playing on his lips as his hands continue their exploration of your body. "Well, since you asked..." He takes another sip of tequila, his eyes never leaving yours.

The motherfucker is a tease; I knew it… I knew it!!!

His hands wander up and down your body possessively as he continues. "I want to see those perfect lips wrapped around my... gifts." He punctuates his words with a gentle bite to your neck.

"Then I want you bent over this fireplace mantel while I take you from behind, watching your reflection in that mirror across the room.” His fingers trailed along your waistband suggestively.

“Wow…You really don’t waste time on your list, huh?” You start unbuttoning his shirt all the way down.

He chuckles, his eyes locking onto yours as he sees you unbuttoning his shirt, revealing his chest and abs one button at a time. He helps you finish the job, tossing his shirt aside. "Guess not..." He growls, pulling you closer.

Pedro's lips curled into a wicked smile as you slowly head down towards his chest, his hand lightly gripping the back of your neck.

"Well, since you asked so nicely..." you murmur approvingly, pressing your lips against his nipple.

He let out a low groan as you began to suck, his other hand coming up to gently stroke your cheek. "Fuck, just like that..."

You let out a soft laugh. “So… you like some worship on your nipples, huh?”

A deep, sultry chuckle escaped his lips, his voice husky with desire. "You're learning my secrets, aren't you?" His hand urges your head towards his other nipple. "Not just my nipples... but every part of me deserves some worship."

“That’s how I make my way down…” you whisper.

His breath hitches as you whisper your intentions, his body tingling with excitement. "Well then, I can hardly wait to feel those heavenly lips trailing lower..." He guides your face down his torso, his abs clenching instinctively under your touch.

As you kiss and nuzzle your way down his abdomen, Pedro's hands rest lightly on your head, his fingers gently guiding you. "Lower... lower... yes, just like that..." He hisses as your lips brush against the waistband of his red swim trunks.

You slowly peel back his zipper, the sound echoing in the room. Pedro's breathing grows heavier as you reach inside and wrap your hand around his thick, hard length. He lets out a low groan as you pull it free, his eyes rolling back in his head. "Fuck... oh god..."

Pedro's cock twitches eagerly as you firm your grip, the skin velvety soft, a prominent vein runs along the underside. The head is broad and round, flushed a deep red, with a tiny slit oozing with pre-cum. His hips giving an involuntary thrust forward, seeking more of your touch. "Don't tease me, beautiful..." He breathes out, voice strained with lust. "Put those gorgeous lips to work."

As you bob your head up and down, Pedro's hands tighten on your shoulders, his fingers digging into your skin. He starts to thrust gently…”Fuck... You look so beautiful with your mouth full of me..." He pants, his abs flexing with each thrust. His hands move to cup your jaw, his thumbs caressing your cheeks as he guides your movements. The wet sounds of your sucking fill the room, mixed with his guttural groans.

I take you out of my mouth for a few seconds. “You taste so good, but I don’t want you to reach the edge, hottie…”

His breath catches at your words. "Mmm, teasing me now? You know exactly what you're doing..." His tone is a mix of both frustration and deep satisfaction. "Yeah, don't make me come just yet…”

“Yes, let’s work on your list…” You say, sitting back on his lap, cleaning the corner of your mouth with his precum.

Pedro's eyes darken with desire as he watches you clean your mouth with his precum. "Fuck, you're so naughty... I love it." He reaches out and runs his thumb over your lips, spreading it around before leaning in to claim your mouth in a deep, passionate kiss.

“So…What did you say about the fireplace? Second of the list…”

Pedro smirks mischievously. "Ah, the fireplace... I was thinking we could move our little session over there." He stands up, lifting you with him effortlessly. "I want to bend you over the mantel and fuck you from behind, watching your reflection in that mirror across the room.”

Pedro carries you to the fireplace, setting you down gently on your feet. He spins you around and bends you over the ornate wooden mantel, the cool marble pressing against your skin. "Keep those elbows locked," he commands, a firm hand on the small of your back.

Not happy with that, you just suggest, “Why don’t you just take me to the bed?”

"Because the bed is too ordinary," Pedro murmurs, running his hands down your thighs possessively, "I want to do this here, where I can watch myself take you in the mirror." He steps back to admire the view, his eyes roaming over your arched back and rounded bottom.

With a mischievous tone, you ask him… ”and you like to watch yourself?”

"Right now I’d love watching myself fucking you," Pedro confesses, his voice low and husky with desire. "Seeing my cock disappear into your pussy, feeling your body shake as I pound into you... it's fucking incredible." He reaches out to run his fingers through your hair, tangling them in the loose strands.

"And the mirror," he continues, his other hand reaching out to the mantel to steady himself as he lines himself up with your entrance. "Watching myself push into you, feeling your tight little hole squeeze around my dick as I fuck you hard against the mirror... fuck, it's going to be perfect."

With a deep grunt, Pedro thrusts forward, sheathing his hard length inside you in one smooth motion. He pauses for a moment, savoring the feeling of being buried inside you before he starts to move, his hips slamming against your ass as he fucks you hard against the mirror.

"Look at us in the mirror..." He reaches around to cup your breasts while continuing his steady pace. "Watch how beautifully you take my cock. Those whimpers you're making... fuck, you're perfect." His pace quickens, his breath becoming ragged against your ear.

His fingers pinch and tug at your nipples as he fucks you relentlessly, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the room. The mirror fogs up from your panting breaths and his sweat, obscuring parts of the reflection but not enough to hide the lewd scene unfolding before it.

In between moans, you beg him to take you to the bed; you can’t stand your legs anymore with so much pressure.

Pedro growls, pulling out of you abruptly and spinning you around to face him. He lifts you up and carries you to the bed, tossing you onto it before climbing on top of you. "I need to be inside you again, now."

He settles between your thighs, his hard cock pressing urgently against your slick folds. "Wrap your legs around me," he demands, easing the tip of his shaft teasingly along your slit. As you comply, he grips your wrists, pinning them above your head with one strong hand.

Pedro leans down, capturing your lips in a fierce, dominant kiss. His tongue pushes past your lips, claiming your mouth as his other hand guides his cock to your entrance. In one powerful thrust, he buries himself inside you again, swallowing your gasp with his mouth.

He breaks the kiss, his eyes blazing with lust as he begins to move, thrusting into you with deep, measured strokes that make the bed creak beneath you. "Fuck, your pussy feels amazing," he grits out, angling his hips to hit that perfect spot inside you.

Pedro quickens his pace, his grip on your wrists tightening as he chases his release. The room fills with the sound of his hips slapping against yours and your breathy moans. "I'm going to fill you up so full," he pants, nipping at your jaw. One of his hands slides between your bodies, finding your clit and circling it with his thumb. "I want to feel you come on my cock…”

"Fuck, you're getting tighter... Is this what you need, baby?" His thumb presses harder against your clit as he fucks you with deep, forceful strokes, the intensity in his eyes unwavering. "Come for me..."

Pedro feels your walls clench around him, and he growls, "That's it, cum on my cock." He slams into you one last time, burying himself as deep as he can go. His thumb circles your clit frantically as his release builds. "Fuck, I'm close..."

With a loud grunt, Pedro explodes inside you, his cock pulsing as he fills you with his hot seed. His thumb presses hard against your clit, sending you over the edge as you scream in pleasure, your pussy milking his cock for everything he's got.

He stays buried inside you, his thumb slowly circling your sensitive bundle of nerves as he nuzzles his face against yours, breathing heavily. "Damn it, I will tell your friends you are amazing… they were right..." He murmurs, his voice muffled against your neck.

After a moment, Pedro slowly pulls out of you, his softening cock slipping free from your still-quivering pussy. He collapses beside you on the bed, pulling you into his arms and holding you close. "Can we keep up with this list?" You say.

He kisses the top of your head, his heart still racing from their intense encounter. "I think we should keep going, yeah. There are a lot more things on that list I want to try with you." He pulls out his phone and starts typing, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Hey, I need to check on the girls...” you say, worried about them being away for a couple of hours already.

Pedro looks up from his phone, his expression softening. "Of course, go check on your friends. I'll be here when you get back. But don't be too long, okay?" He says giving you a little wink.

As soon as you go back to your room, you find your friends passed out on the bed.

Well, I guess you will leave a note at the door saying thanks for the little help, and you guys will catch up on the next day because you won’t sleep in the same room for a while… The list is endless.

😈

————————————————

Thanks for being here and read our delusional fics, likes are appreciate, comments even more. If you want to ask anything, blast it!

[mossangelll]

So hear me out….pregnant reader with Sevika’s kid. Sevika doting on reader. Bring home a weird craving reader has been having and talking to the baby telling them how excited she is to finally meet them.

I need fluff, I need pregnancy, I need it to be hers naturally.

Thank yooooooooou!

this is so cute i loved writing it! i just know sevika would be a great parent ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

sevika x pregnant reader headcanons

cw: pregnancy, slight innuendos, mentions of violence, veryyyy slight angst at the start

sevika never saw herself being a parent; not because she doesn’t like kids, it’s the complete opposite - she adores them

she felt it was selfish to want to bring a child into a fucked up world like zaun, full of hardship and uncertain futures

but then one night you tearfully turn to sevika in bed and her mind immediately goes into overdrive, are you hurt? is someone threatening you?

“sevika…i’m pregnant.”

you’re both sent into a still silence, unable to see each other but somehow feeling each other’s shock that much more

you’re worried that she’s upset or even mad at you, you know how she feels about having kids, until she’s gripping onto you with all her might, body shuddering from the force of her tears

sevika spoons you to sleep but she can’t fall asleep since her mind is racing about what this means for the future

she is overjoyed to say the least, albeit worried

from that moment on she dotes on you even more than she ever did, saying she needs to “look after my two favourite people.”

she rarely enjoyed pda but now you’re pregnant with her child, she can’t keep her hands off you - she needs to let everyone know that she’s completely smitten with you and the baby

sevika is constantly rubbing her hands on your baby bump wherever you go - just the sight of you and the baby calms her down

however she’ll only talk to the baby when you’re at home all safe and sound because this is when she admits her innermost fears

you stroke her soft hair as she whispers to the bump about how she’s scared she won’t be able to protect you both; after all, sevika works for the biggest crime lord in zaun and a child only provides more ammunition for enemies to utilise

sevika is also concerned about not being a good enough parent to the child but when you look at her building a crib from scratch, concentration furrowing her dark brows, with buckets of paint surrounding her from all the swatches you requested, you know that her worries couldn’t be further from the truth

every morning and every night, without fail, she kisses your forehead and baby bump as she rambles to you both about how excited she is for the completion of your little family

she dotes on you so much!

if you have a weird craving like pickle juice with sparkling water she’s forcing chuck to drop all his orders and make yours stat

if you’re craving some obscure dish that really shouldn’t exist sevika isn’t even going to question it

she’s in the kitchen whipping it up for you as you’re sat on the counter, humming as she prepares your meal

she does that thing where she puts the plate just in your reach but yanks it back again, laughing at how petulant you get

“what, you’re not gonna kiss the chef first?”

she gives it to you eventually, she could never make you wait for too long, and watches on with a goofy little smile and your lipstick marks all over her face as you contentedly eat the downright atrocious meal she made with love

sevika is always with you; call her overprotective or clingy she doesn’t care, she just doesn’t want to risk anybody hurting you or the baby

you basically get scary dog privileges everywhere you go

if your pregnancy hormones say the annoying store clerk that spoke to you in a condescending tone needs to die then sevika is on it right away

ok not really, she talks you down from your moments of bloodlust but she will deal with anyone that is rude to you

“you think i’m gonna let you get away with being an asshole to my dove, huh?”

lowkey shocked (and equal parts turned on) at how cranky your raging hormones make you 😭

sevika is incredibly attracted to you and your changing body even though you get insecure that she won’t like you anymore because of it

she takes her precious time every day just kissing the new stretch marks that appear and massaging your swollen ankles

you spend your date nights talking about baby names and you two even draw what you think the baby will look like

her drawing mainly consists of your features

your drawing mainly consists of her features

you two are so down bad for each other it’s sickening

silco has to force sevika to take more time off; she’s loyal and deserves to have more downtime with you as you prepare for your baby

he understands what it’s like to have a kid, how stressful it can be so he wants his dearest friend to enjoy the moment as much as possible

speaking of silco, he helps sevika host a surprise baby shower at the last drop and an insane amount of people turn up

you cry when you realise how loved and respected you are in the community

everyone is having the time of their lives playing games like blind diaper changing, who knows mum/dad the best, guess the baby, etc.

no gender reveal though she’s traditional in that regard and wants to wait until the baby’s born to find out

jinx is also very excited about the new arrival in the family

yes, she considers you and sevika to be part of her family and it’s very cute

she gets to be an auntie!

jinx spends all her free time making all sorts of toys out of softer materials because she’s considerate (also sevika warned her not to use scrap metal, or implement sharp edges, or even add teeny tiny smoke bombs - jinx scrapped all of her designs and had to start from scratch), for your baby with her signature graffiti of course

her and sevika probably work together to make some of the furniture for the baby’s room

sevika is very proud when people ask to feel bump

“yeah, this is our kid.” smug grin plastered onto her face and a strong arm wrapped around your midsection

you can’t help but roll your eyes when she does this because at this point who doesn’t know it’s your kid - she spends all day talking about it 😭

all in all sevika is honestly the best mother and wife you could ask for <3

masterlist

[moralesluvr]

RE-TAKE | b. eilish.

ꨄ︎ delivering some more teacher!billie for you… <3

you’re halfway out the door when her voice stops you.

it’s a call of your name, laced with an angry and frustrated tone. you freeze, hand tightening on the strap of your bag. the classroom is empty now, the faint sound of footsteps fading down the hall as everyone clears out for the day.

but you’re still here.

you swallow thickly, turning on your heel to face your teacher. her hair that was previously flowing down her shoulders is now placed in a messy bun, her blazer already discarded on the back of her desk chair— now only clad in a white, too-tight button up and a black skirt.

“we need to talk,” miss eilish says, her voice low and steady. her eyes don’t leave you as you start to walk forward, and she tuts at you harshly.

“no, shut the door.”

your skin feels clammy as you shut the door behind you quietly, dropping your bag on the floor and standing next to the doorframe, awkwardly. the air is thick and hot with tension, and you’re even more scared because you already know what this is about.

it’s about the fucking quiz. the one you didn’t even finish because your mind was elsewhere, lost in a maze of thoughts that all seemed to lead back to her. it wasn’t your fault that miss eilish decided to wear tighter dress pants and a flowier, lower-cut top that day. she had looked so pretty, and she still had that hickey on her collarbone that you had given her the night before, that she tried so hard to cover up with that small collar of her polo.

“come here,” billie says, snapping you out of your intrinsic thoughts. your feet move before your brain can catch up, carrying you toward her.

she waits until you’re standing in front of her desk before holding up the paper, “do you want to explain this?”

your eyes drop to the paper, to the bright red “F” scrawled at the top. even her handwriting was angry with you.

your face burns with shame, and you smooth your hands over your own skirt in hopes that it’ll calm you down. “i… i just had an off day,” you mumble, not even daring to meet eyes.

“an off day,” she repeats, her tone laced with amusement. she gives you a cocky, mocking nod, “that’s funny, because it seems like you’ve been having a lot of those lately. why is your shit not together?”

you swallow hard, your hands clenching at your sides. you don’t even dare to respond.

“look at me,” she says, and your heart stutters in your chest.

you lift your eyes, and there it is— that look she always gives you, the one that makes it impossible to breathe. she knows you down to a T, and her eyes are sharp, knowing of you, like you’re her prized possession.

“you really are better than this,” she says softly, leaning forward, her elbows resting on the desk. “i know you are.”

you nod, your throat too tight to speak. you fight for your eyes not to drift down to her exposed cleavage, so you flutter them shut before you make any more mistakes.

“but…” she trails off, tilting her head slightly, a loose strand of her black hair slipping over her shoulder. “i’m not happy with you. the retake date has already passed, so you’re going to have to show me that you want to pass my class.”

the way she’s looking at you, eyes slit and low, nearly makes you fall to the floor that your shoes keep twisting on, anxiety fueling you.

truth is, billie was always so big on not fucking you in school. it just seemed too risky, but today, it was like she couldn’t care less. she was already pulled closer to you now, unbuttoning your cardigan slowly as you gulped.

“what—what does that mean? i thought…” you stammer, but she just continues with undressing you, her smirk deepening.

“you’re my smart girl,” billie says, her voice like honey. she passes you a wink, “i think you’ll figure it out.”

that nearly kills you. your cardigan’s now on the floor, discarded like it’s worth nothing— and it really isn’t worth anything, not in this moment.

billie doesn’t kiss you with the usual softness she gives you, she kisses you like you mean nothing to her, like you’re worthless, like you’re just her pathetic little student who can never pay attention in class.

it’s quick, the way that billie rips your clothes off, propping you up on her desk as she fumbles around in a locked drawer of her desk, pulling out a thicker, longer, harder strap that you’ve never seen in your life.

“what the—?” you speak shyly, half due to confusion and half because there’s no way she’s going to use that on you. but your eyes turn wide as saucers when you see her slip her skirt and panties off, slipping on the strap and fastening it to her liking.

she pulls you by the hips without saying a word, the tip of the faux cock aligned with your entrance as her tattooed hand snakes around your throat, “don’t fucking talk at all, you hear me? you’ve done all the talking you need to in my class, giggling and whispering instead of doing your work. such a slut..”

you wince as the strap stretches your cunt out, your walls stretching to accommodate how fucking big it was. billie starts off slow, but that doesn’t last for long— she slams into you at a brutal pace, your stomach twisting as her hand slaps over your mouth to block your moans.

“shut up.” she seethes in your ear, her free hand kneading at your ass as her grip on your lips tightens, “you wanna get caught? you want someone to come in here and see me fucking you like this?”

you think her question is rhetorical until she slaps the flesh of your thigh, pushing you to answer her. and she lets you, her hand coming off of your mouth so you can mumble quietly, “n-no! please, billie….i’m so sorry…”

your eyes blink away tears as you feel a mix of pain and pleasure erupt in your abdomen, and it almost feels like too much, the way she’s fucking into you so hard. but deep down, you wanted this, wanted her to put you in your place. you wanted to fail that quiz so you could be where you are right now— legs shaking, pussy clenched against her strap. it was so wrong, but it felt so right.

a moan passes through your plump lips, and it makes billie’s frustration with you only worse. it’s like something snaps in her, the pace that she’s fucking you at almost seeming inhumane as your ass collides with her thighs, the sound echoing off of the classroom’s walls.

“such a dirty whore,” billie growls, her lips right against your ear, “know you could do much better in my class, but you’re just so distracted… may have to have a talk with the counselor, hm? do you need to be switched to another teacher?”

“n-no! miss eilish…please, wanna stay with you…wanna stay in your class…” you whine pathetically, and billie chuckles at how desperate you look.

tears find themselves streaming down your cheeks as you feel your orgasm closer and closer, your pussy clenching around the strap sporadically. almost inaudible whines leave your lips as you fight to stay upright, “i-i’m close— m’gonna cum, please, i—“

“cum for me.” billie orders, though her voice still drips honey. her hand snakes between your legs to rub your clit, assisting you through your orgasm as you heave, your cum sticky and hot as it races down the length of billie’s strap and onto her thighs.

billie fucks into you slowly a few more times before pulling out, watching as your cum seeps out of your cunt and onto your clit, glistening in the dim lighting of her classroom. billie gives you a kiss on your back, “good job, my girl— took me so fucking well.”

you thank her through puffy lips and teary eyes, laying on your back on her desk as she flips your paper over, writing a new grade on the front.

A+. Good job. :)

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[tragedy-machine]

how did this happen, you ask?

they're sitting next to each other on the couch, while Charles is bandaging Edwin's arm and fussing over him and Edwin says something like "it doesn't matter if I get hurt, this is nothing, I can endure it and it was worth it to protect you"

and Charles feels himself close to bursting with emotion (affection) and just manhandles Edwin into a hug, but since both of them are on the couch, it just ends up in Charles pulling Edwin into his lap, but he doesn't care about it, he just needs to hug his best mate right this second!!! (and burrow his head into his chest)

the first time this Lap ThingTM happened, it was because of Charles, but later, when Charles is upset about something, maybe he's worried about Edwin again or just about Death separating them, Edwin thinks "oh I know what worked last time!"

so he pushes Charles down onto their couch and climbs into his lap after him. "to calm Charles down" (predictably, Charles' heart is not going to be calming down any time soon)

still not dating, but Charles has definitely realized a few things, so he's gonna get them there

Charles required so much cuddling as an apology. No, they’re not dating yet.

[dorabellingham]

Complicated

warning: none

characters: jude x reader

summary: when you're trying to make dinner but he ends up making an unnecessary comment that bothers you

request: yess!

may contain spelling and translation errors!

It was a quiet night in your home, and you and Jude decided to cook dinner together. You were chopping vegetables while Jude stirred a pan on the stove. It was one of those simple and intimate moments that you loved, where the conversation flowed without rushing.

—You’re getting good at this, huh?

Jude commented, watching you wield the knife with precision.

—Only because you didn’t see how many fingers I almost cut off earlier.

You replied with a light laugh.

He laughed, exchanging knowing glances. You loved these moments with your boyfriend, where nothing seemed complicated or distant.

—Do you think we’ll be like this forever?

You asked, almost distracted, as you organized the vegetables.

—Like what?

Jude replied, turning to you.

—I don’t know... so comfortable. Like, even after everything we’ve been through, it seems like we’ve never lost that.

—Of course, babe. You’re my safe place. You always have been.

The comment made you smile, but before you could respond, Jude added something, distracted as he stirred the pan:

—And I’m lucky, because you’re not as complicated as other people I know.

You froze. The words were simple, but they sounded like a blow. It wasn’t what Jude had said, but how it sounded at that moment.

—I’m not complicated?

You asked, trying to hide the hurt tone.

Jude looked up, noticing something strange in your voice.

—That’s not what I meant. It’s just… I don’t know, you’re easier to deal with than a lot of people.

You dropped the knife on the counter, trying to process it. All you could think about were the times you felt like you were a burden to him —especially with your crises and the difficulty in adjusting to life in Madrid. That sounded like confirmation that you needed to try harder not to be a burden.

—Easy to deal with? —You repeated, your voice now lower. —Jude, do you have any idea how that sounds to me?

—Y/n, calm down. That's not what I meant. I just... —He ran his hand through his hair, clearly confused by your reaction. —I just meant that you're amazing and that you make everything seem simpler.

You took a step back, crossing your arms.

—But it's not simple, Jude. I'm not simple. I'm full of problems and insecurities. You know that.

—And I never said that was bad! —Jude exclaimed, getting closer. —Sweetie, you're human, like everyone else. But I love you precisely for who you are.

You looked away, biting your lower lip to hold back the tears. You knew Jude hadn't meant any harm, but his comment brought back all the times you felt inadequate, as if you needed to be "easy" to deserve his love.

—You'll never understand what it's like to feel like that. —You whispered. —Because you’re Jude Bellingham. Everyone loves you effortlessly.

—Hey, hey. —He held your arms gently, forcing you to look at him. —Don’t say that. Everyone can love me as a player, but who I really am… only you know. And you’re the one who makes me feel complete.

You blinked, letting out a stubborn tear.

—It’s just… sometimes I feel like I need to be perfect. That I can’t be a complication in your life.

Jude sighed, pulling you into a hug.

—Babe, you’ve never been a complication. I’m sorry if what I said made you think that. You’re the best thing in my life, and I love even the complicated parts of you.

You were silent for a moment, leaning your head against his chest as you felt the warmth of his embrace.

—I’m sorry for reacting like that. —You murmured. —It’s just that I…

—You don’t have to apologize. —He interrupted, kissing the top of your head. —I was the idiot. I should have thought before I spoke.

You stood there, hugging each other, while the smell of the sauce began to grow stronger. Jude pulled away a little, holding your face with his hands.

—You're perfect for me, Y/n. Not because it's easy, but because it's you.

You nodded, still feeling the weight of your emotions, but also the comfort of his words.

—I love you, Jude.

—I love you too. And please, let me know when I say something stupid again.

You laughed softly, wiping your face with the sleeve of your shirt.

—I think you already know when you say it.

—Fair enough. —He smiled and went back to the stove. —But for the record, I think I burned the sauce.

—Really? —You rolled your eyes, laughing. —I think we both need help in the kitchen.

Jude smiled at you, relieved to see you calmer.

—As long as I have you here, we can burn as many dinners as we need.

And with that, the tension was replaced by laughter and jokes, as you tried to save dinner.

[dixons-sunshine]

I’m sorry I’m being so annoying but I check your blog everyday to see if you posted the spicy/panic fic, do you think you will? Or have you already and I’m blind??

Sorry I’m just looking forward to it.

I hope you’re having a great Xmas angel

Not To Blame | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Talks of bondage and panic attacks.

A/N: I’m so sorry for the wait, anon! I completely forgot to post it. Now this only references what happened because I had a hard time writing the actual spicy part that lead up to everything, but I hope this is still somewhat okay!

It all happened so fast.

One moment, you’re straddling Daryl’s lap, tongue-deep in his mouth, grinding your hips against his like your life depended on it. The next moment, you could clearly sense your partner’s distress, his breathing turning shallow and sounding choked up, his body tensing and his chest rising and falling in an unsteady rhythm. Although you could have easily mistaken it as pleasure, you knew the archer, and you knew that he was in the midst of a panic attack.

Everything frisky ended the moment you had realized that. You had clambered off of him, and untied the ropes binding him to the headboard of the bed—the bindings being the sole reason that the love of your life had trouble breathing and he had tears in his eyes.

You sighed as you walked from the kitchen and back to the bedroom, a glass of water in your hand. You felt terrible about what happened. It had been your suggestion to try bondage in the first place. Although Daryl had seemed rather intrigued by the idea, you should have known better. Daryl had so many bad memories linked with being tied up. You should have known that something like this would happen.

Stepping into your shared bedroom and closing the door behind you, you sent a small, tentative smile towards Daryl. The man in question was sitting up in the bed, his eyes still a little blood shot from the tears he had shed earlier when you had helped calm him down. When he saw you, he offered up a weak smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I have your water,” you began softly, slowly making your way over to him. You handed him the glass of the cool liquid and sat down next to him on the bed, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder and rubbing soothing circles on his flesh with your thumb. “Do you need anything else?”

Daryl took a sip from the glass, before pursing his lips and shaking his head. “Nah,” he replied, his voice shaky and a tad bit gruffer than normal. “M’alright.”

You frowned slightly. “You sure?” There was a few beats of silence after the crossbow-wielding archer nodded, before you spoke up again. “I’m so sorry, Dar.”

It was Daryl’s turn to frown. “Why’re you sorry? You didn’t do nothin’.”

You shook your head in denial. “I’m sorry for placing you in that awful position. I should have known better.” Daryl opened his mouth to say something, but you cut him off. “Don’t try to downplay what happened and say that it was nothing to spare my feelings. I’m not looking for pity. I just want you to know that I’m sorry about what happened, okay? And I don’t want you to try and make me feel better. Let me take care of you for a change, okay?”

A genuine smile spread across Daryl’s face this time. He nodded and placed the glass down on the nightstand. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, placing his large hand on your thigh. “But I dun’ want’cha to blame yourself, alright? I know what I was gettin’ myself into when you suggested we try bondage. S’not your fault. S’all trial and error, and now we know s’not somethin’ m’into.”

“I guess so, but I definitely would have preferred never trying it in the first place than having you go through that,” you told him, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Me too.” A good minute of silence passed, before you lifted your head and stood up, much to Daryl’s chagrin. “What’re ya doin’?” he inquired, his ocean-coloured eyes following your figure as you stalked towards the bathroom.

He soon got his answer when he heard the shower start running. A few seconds later, you walked out of the bathroom and towards him, took his hands in yours, tugged him up from the bed and lead him into the already steam filled room.

“Let me take care of you. You said I could. Let’s get you cleaned up and ready for bed,” you reminded him, gently beginning to fiddle with the buttons on his sleeveless shirt. “And no further funny business tonight.”

Daryl smiled, and allowed you to help him out of his shirt, his heart swelling with love for you. “Yes, ma’am.”

[glossykissies]

telling some guy that you’re celibate but you tell clark he can nail your shit 🎶🎶

“celibate.”

the word left your lips so often it didn’t even feel like a word anymore. any time a guy got too close, any time there was a guy you didn’t want to touch you — celibate. you were celibate. yes it is a choice, no you can’t change my mind.

you had needs, of course you did — needs you were mostly happy with fulfilling yourself, because lord knows the guys around you wouldn’t know how to please you. you heard the horror stories from your girl friends, about how they’d get jack hammered for 3 minutes, or if they’re lucky — two fingers jammed inside them, digging for loose change between couch cushions. you were happy to be alone.

you often wondered how men could feel such uncontrollable lust, the type that makes them say such vulgar things out loud. all the disgusting terms you’d learnt, you’d learnt from the disgraceful propositions you’d received, or ‘compliments’ that you were meant to be thankful for. “i’d nail her shit.” one says when you walk by him. you’re more interested by his word choice than anything.

all of a sudden you understand when clark comes around. the ridiculous tidal wave of lust that filled your body. your poor virgin hole that would quiver when he’d smile humbly at you in passing or help lift something heavy, biceps rippling. you’d watched him peel his sweaty tshirt off his body whilst mowing the grass on the farm enough times for you to be able to memorise how it looks perfectly in your mind when you’re furiously rubbing yourself at night time. you were beginning to feel less in control. you were beginning to feel less celibate.

you know he’d look after you. he was respectful and competent and big in all the ways that left nothing to the imagination. he wouldn’t pressure you, he’d take the time to learn all your spots — just the thought had you pressing your legs together, and soon it was too much to handle. you became drunk on the thought of him having you, soon enough winding up in his barn, pawing at him, whining.

“i just want it to be you, clark i — i trust you!” you almost groan, gripping at his shirt, wanting to feel his skin.

“hey, what’s gotten into you?” he asks, voice filled with concern, tone still gentle as he wraps ginormous fingers around your wrists and effortlessly pries you off, trying to level himself with you. “you said you were celibate, i — i think it’s important you stick to your own rules, you know? you don’t wanna do anything you regret down the line.” he has the audacity to blush adorably, placing two hands on the tops of your arms to steady you incase you try to lurch for him again.

you were so needy that embarrassment had evaded you and tears filled your eyes. you shake your head.

“i only said that to guys because i didn’t want them, i… i want you clark, please.” you sound defeated and he softens, staring at you as he susses you out. you suck in a gulp, eyes fluttering as you ready yourself to repeat the vulgar words you once had placed upon you. “‘want you to nail my shit.” it comes out slightly rushed, slurred, bordering on a desperate groan. his eyebrows lift.

“you…what? you taught you that, sweet girl?” he’s babying you now and it’s not helping, cupping your cheek in concern— because who on earth could teach such an innocent girl such foul language?

“clark…” you manage a whisper, this time taking his hand. he allows you now, eyes curiously following as you shakily drag it to your crotch before stuffing it into your panties, shuddering at the feeling of his coarse fingers sliding experimentally over your slit until it finds the sticky honeypot of arousal at the centre of the fabric, soaking through obscenely.

“wow… you really need it, huh?” he breathes, voice laced with awe.

“you, i need you.” you correct, matching his tone as you search his eyes for any more hesitation. his confidence returns, falling back into his regular calm and self assured self as he adjusts to the situation.

“well i think i can help you explore that. why don’t you lay down over here?”

[liketolaugh-writes]

I'm confused about how you read that entire exchange and apparently did not absorb it but I think you maybe need to watch Danny Phantom again.

Yes. I am aware of all of those mentalities. I am aware that a large portion of the DPxDC fandom wants Danny to expect Superman to be Kon's parent (because apparently parenthood is something that can be forced on you and God forbid you feel violated.) I am aware of where Danny gets the grudges that people invent for him (a character that does not hold grudges against anyone except Vlad.) I am aware that there are multiple Flashes and that Danny is equally happy to insult all of them (because talking back to authority is a thing that Danny does. Ever. In his canon.) And I am well aware of how much of the DPxDC fandom likes to portray the Justice League as a bunch of idiots, which... is also not consistent with any of their canons and just, again, comes down to the chip-in-the-shoulder a lot of people seem to carry for heroes these days.

None of that is what I'm addressing. Fandom is built on headcanons and expanded universe, and it's great to build those things! It's great for them to build extra backstory to meld the two universes together, to fill out Danny's kind of flimsy canon, to have Danny already have opinions based on that backstory. You can write all these things if you want. I understand that people enjoy them, and DPxDC has a particularly mutated fanon that people have built over years now. People love these stories!

The part that I am illustrating is that the manner in which it's usually carried out is extremely unlike Danny. See above (far above) characterization notes. But especially, doubly so, for a Danny that grew up knowing and loving the Justice League for most of his childhood, before he had any reason to resent them.

Quite frankly, out of anyone, I would expect Danny - who routinely fights for a town that hated him for half the cartoon, and rescues people that have been cruel to him personally - to understand how terribly difficult it is to be a hero at all. To understand that they work hard to save people every day, that the Flashes time-traveled under great duress and out of pure desperation (as Danny usually does), and to understand that anyone who works around the clock to rescue people is, fundamentally, a good person even when they make mistakes or act out in anger. Repeatedly - with Valerie, with Dora, with Ghost Writer and Dash and Amorpho - Danny is shown to have an intense sense of empathy that lets him forgive people who have acted against him and are not sorry about it.

(And, personally, I think that Danny, having been cloned, would understand how violated Superman felt even if he doesn't agree with how he responded - but that's speculation, I suppose.)

And finally, while I understand the motives writers have for this portrayal (see, again, above notes about fandoms with sweet protagonists that take a lot of shit) the problem is that this vengeful behavior people want him to have is extremely out of character for a boy who:

Apologizes to Dash for something Dash doesn't even know he did (overshadowing him to stick his head in a trash can)

Goes to intentionally let his dad capture him because his dad was having a really bad day

Is the first to suggest a truce the moment he thinks an antagonistic character might be open to it (true of Valerie, Dash, all of his rogues, and occasionally even Vlad)

Once genuinely thought Jazz was beating him up out of anger and responded by apologizing and trying to convince her to calm down

Pretty much only ever just wants people to get along?

I also don't know why you assumed I was basing my entire opinion off drabbles and dialogue snippets, because... no? The stimulus for this entire post was in fact a fic of nearly 10k, which I stopped reading because I was so mortified that Danny kept insulting people that were actively helping him and being considerate and understanding? I don't even read drabbles outside of Tumblr. I prefer longfics, always, and I assure you that I still see all of this pretty regularly. I don't think I've once seen someone imply that Danny holding a grudge is unusual for him.

Why is Danny everyone’s mouthpiece for their random grudges against various superheroes? Why is it SO COMMON for Danny to show up and immediately start chewing people out?

Like. Danny? Mr. ‘My Parents Shoot At Me But It’s Fine’? Mr. ‘Dates The One Ghost Hunter At His School’? Danny ‘Dash Can Shove Me Around I Guess’ Fenton? Holds a bunch of grudges against popular superheroes and tries to punch them at the first available opportunity??

I know it’s become a pretty popular characterization in fandom for Danny to be pretty testy/spiteful, I just don’t really get it

[leighsartworks216]

The Calm After The Storm

Sylus x gn!Reader

I know it isn't Christmas anymore but the vibes persist in my notes app

Warnings: fluff, domestic fluff, silly, Christmas, alcohol, drinking, kissing, cuddling, some family drama

Word Count: 834

Main Masterlist

First Love and Deepspace Masterlist

Second Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

You scrub a hand down your face, as if it could wipe away all the stress and overwhelm from the last few days. Booking flights, packing bags, wrapping gifts, dealing with your parents' nagging and your extended family's... whole deal. You can't wait to go back home.

Sylus sighs as he settles down beside you. His arm immediately wraps around your shoulders, drawing you into his side where you belong.

He's been your rock through all of this. When you start to lose your head to the holiday season, he's there to reel you back in. It was a real catch 22, though. He could be there to block your family's questions and interrogations, but that only brought more questions to the surface.

How did you two meet? How long have you been together? When is he going to propose? Will we finally have some grandkids? Why isn't he with his family? How big is he? (Asked by your great grandmother, utterly shamelessly.) And on, and on, and on.

For all the headache it brought you, he didn't seem too phased by the excitement. With all the grace of a businessman, he deflects, redirects, and obfuscates just enough to satisfy their questions without giving them too much of a rope to tug on.

Now that you've finally got a moment to yourself - all your relatives gone, your parents off to bed - all you want to do is sit on the couch and come down from it all.

Sylus is quiet. You know it's for your sake, to give you all the (metaphorical) space you need. All the power is in your hands to start a conversation. All he does is hold you close, rub circles into your arm, and offer you the wine glass in his other hand.

You grin wryly as you accept it. It's fruity, sweet - definitely not to his tastes. "Is this the one my nana got you?"

"Mhm," he hums. "It's a nice gesture."

You chuckle. "She had no idea what to get you. I mentioned that you like to drink, but she's... Well, she tends to gift other people things she likes."

You settle deeper against him, cradling the glass to yourself as you lean your head against his shoulder. He presses a tender kiss to your head.

"Is it always that chaotic?"

"No." You tilt your head up to look at him. "It's usually a lot worse."

He chuckles lowly. "I'm glad they were on their best behavior for me, then." He brushes his nose against yours, drawing out the peace of the moment just a while longer. He's had to severely cut back on how affectionate he gets to be with you to avoid encouraging even more marriage and children questions; he really wants to savor this for as long as possible.

The lights of the Christmas tree in the living room dance across the planes of his face. Every now and then, the red catches on his iris. Or the gold does, and gives him a draconic look. He's beautiful. Ethereal. Your cousin took one look at him, at his arm lazily wrapped around your waist, and gaped in awe at you. The only reason she couldn't get a chance to get Sylus alone and try to steal him is because he was too insistent on staying by your side through it all, whispering teasing remarks in your ear and making sure you weren't about to have a panic attack.

It felt really good being able to put her in her place at dinner, when she purposefully vied for the seat beside Sylus's. He'd ignored her the whole time, save for a politely dismissive phrase or two. After she stole your boyfriend from you in 9th grade pulling the same stunts that she tried tonight, you had no sympathy for the teary-eyed pout she pulled on her way out the door.

You lean up that last little bit. He ducks his head down to ease the strain on your neck, meeting you in a honeyed kiss. Sweet, warm and unhurried. You taste like the wine, hints of the bitter alcoholic sting softened by the fruity sweetness clinging to your lips. This may be his new favorite wine, if only for the way it tastes on you.

You pull away slowly. He leaves a few chaste kisses on your lips, chasing after the lingering sweetness, before finally humming his satisfaction. As soon as you both get home, he's going to make up for all the lost time. For now, he tucks your head under his chin, holds you in front of the tree, and basks in his first Christmas spent with you.

"Merry Christmas, Sy."

"Merry Christmas, sweetheart." He can't wait to celebrate with you again next year, crazy family and all.

You take a slow sip of the wine, basking in the silence for all of one minute. “Sy?”

“Mhm?”

“We’re taking the jet back home. I can’t be sat sandwiched between two screaming babies again.”

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko

[spxllcxstxr]

Jayce and Viktor Dating Someone with ADHD • Headcanon

(Gif not mine)

Request: Hiiii how are you? I love your stories so I was wondering if you could write more jayvik x reader but who has adhd? TYSMM -- anon and Your Jayvik + reader headcanons have me are giddy and are healing my soul. Is it possible to ask for a some headcanons with a reader who has ADHD and also forgets to eat because of it?? I hope your day is kind to you! -- anon

Warnings: gn!reader, reader has ADHD, mentions of food and eating/not eating, these are lowkey kinda short im so sorry lol

A.N: Disclaimer: I don't have ADHD but I have many friends that do and while ADHD presents itself differently for people, I tried to keep this a bit generalized, I hope that's ok!! If anything needs changing or needs to be deleted for being inaccurate or anything, just let me know! Hope you guys enjoy!!

•

Jayce and Viktor are both very understanding people, so when you told them you had ADHD they didn’t have a problem with it. They are, however, problem solvers (they are inventors with the dream of making Piltover and Zaun better for the people), meaning they are very curious about your habits and how they can help. They don’t want to “cure” you, because there’s nothing to cure, but they want to understand how to reassure you and how to make living with ADHD easier on a day-to-day basis

If you’re someone who fidgets with things a lot, Jayce will happily pick up the task of making something that satisfies your need to occupy your hands and your thoughts. He loves being in the forge and he’ll gladly let you sit in there with him and listen to you describe what you would want. He’ll sit next to you, sketching out the design while you ramble about what textures are better than others or how weighty it should feel in your hand. Jayce honestly loves this little side project; not only does it let him work on something other than his research, but it also puts a smile on your face

If you like rambling for hours about your latest hyperfixation, Viktor is the best for that. He has a naturally curious mind and would love to learn something new. He especially likes it when your head is resting on his chest in the middle of the night. Viktor likes watching you move your hands as you talk excitably about the plant life in Ionia or the history of the Yordles. He doesn’t just listen—he’ll ask you questions or give you reading material he thinks you may like as well

Going to Council parties or even just walking through Piltover can really overwhelm you sometimes, either with all the noise or the texture of your clothing feeling off, so your partners are very attentive to your wellbeing. The three of you set up a codeword for anyone to use when someone needs or wants to leave. They try to make it something funny every time to hopefully ease the panic a little bit. Usually Jayce and Viktor are glued to either side of you hip, but in the off chance they have to roam around the room, the two of them will try to keep an eye on you. They will always reassure you that it's ok that they are leaving these sorts of events early (Viktor barely wants to go in the first place), and when you get home the three of you will do something to calm everyone down and get into comfortable clothes

Having ADHD, you tend to get distracted/forget to do certain things. This usually includes eating. Your partners never want to seem overbearing or like they're smothering you, so they will try to subtly remind you to eat/do certain things. Jayce likes writing you little notes and putting them in the apartment. Usually they have little hearts in the corners with some encouraging remark after "remember to eat!" Viktor will usually try to eat with you, so you won't feel alone while eating. He'll be making something and he'll set the table for either two or three and that just reminds you to actually sit down and eat what Viktor makes

Your partners are very patient and are always open to new ideas. if you want them to do something different or if something works really well, they would love to hear it. They absolutely will not be mad at all, they love you so much and all they want to do is help make things easier for you

•

[that-student-that-has-homework]

the temptation to write the fic that's been floating in my mind for a while...I think as early as before the war.

"You're overwhelmed."

and it's either Al-Haitham or Jing Yuan there to gently guide you through the whole mess.

Jing Yuan would probably take a quick scan of everything, predict your to do list based off of it, then determine the best course of action for your health. In like the span of 1 or 2 minutes at most.

Jing Yuan's the guy that would sit on the floor with you, take your hands in his, and when that causes the dam to finally burst (which is a problem because you're too busy to cry right now) would in a soothing tone, walk you through the order of what needs to happen. He'll help you figure out your priorities all while rubbing soothing circles into your skin, and will take on the parts of your load that he can.

You need food? He'll take care of it. Things are a mess? He'll get things picked up enough that its not stressful anymore. You don't have any more clean clothes? He's got that covered too.

When it comes to delegation the man knows what's up. He's got a solid war plan, and with Yanqing's assistance he's managed to complete at least half of the tasks that he can take off your hands, and the rest are to be completed likely within the next hour or few hours.

Expect a warm meal and soothing tea after you get showered, because that was the first thing he had you do. See you'd been busy enough to neglect your hygiene enough to stress you out too. So when you're feeling notably refreshed after your shower, and your meal, and seeing as the domestic tasks have been taken care of while you took care of your hygiene, your stress levels, are much lower.

He absolutely will let you bend his ear over all that's stressing you out, especially if you're working on something with a deadline and you're stuck. Will be someone you can bounce ideas off of.

When things finally calm down enough that you have the time to cry, he will hold you as you sob it all out. As awful as the situation is, he's relieved that you're getting it out of your system via tears. Of course if you start apologizing for needing help, he'll hug you tighter and set you straight. He is honored to be someone that you can be vulnerable with and is genuinely delighted to be able to support you...he is your husband.

____________________

Al-Haitham, similarly, takes you and your surroundings in:

the research papers strewn around you

the multitude of half-drunk cups: tea, water, juice, herbal tea

the crumbs of food that likely wasn't enough to sustain you

the piles of papers and books with all sorts of random objects in them to mark the pages for your research

the sink

your laundry basket

your dull hair, and disheveled pyjamas/housewear

your exhausted expression

It doesn't take him more than 2 minutes as well to figure out the ideal course of action. He also decides that you starting with a shower would be for the best.

He has to debate you to get you up, choosing not to touch you in your overwhelmed state. Because you don't have time to shower, you have a deadline. You don't have time for all these things. However using logic and reason, he somehow managed to get your to comply despite your very compromised state.

Al-Haitham as well, despite not liking to take on too much work, will, for your sake, delegate all tasks that don't require your specific attention to himself and get through them efficiently. He's systematic about it: first he ensures you have food to eat, after which he ensures that your living space is relaxing and comfortable by cleaning and organizing things according to your own preferences (yes he remembers). Your laundry is also taken care of alongside his. The cups, the dishes in the sink and those distributed throughout the house as well will be collected and washed.

Depending on how long your shower is he'll have everything done or at the very least the food and initial sweep of the area. He makes sure to have food with you, so you feel less alone. He will do those dishes too.

You're not having any coffee. Any tea he gives you is herbal. Bibi* used to say chamomile was good for sleep, maybe it'll help you relax. (Bibi is what Iraqis call their grandmothers, and given he's named after an Iraqi physicist).

With Al-Haitham he can also assist with your research and your paper, so he does help with providing sources and information for your paper. In fact you can rant to him and like the scribe he is, he'll take notes, and provide advice.

Will hug you if you ask. Will be your body double to help you get through things. He might even sacrifice some sleep to be by your side for a little longer if you're working late, but not too long, he'll eventually turn in, and encourage you to turn in too.

Tumblr MasterList Here | Ao3 here

Please feel free to leave me a comment or feedback. I may actually turn this into a fic if I get the time!

[rosegolden13]

"I'll be home for Christmas"

This is my first lil post on Tumblr! Hope y'all like it!! It's just some Christmas fluff with our collective husband, John Price <3

The cute divider thingy is by @anitalenia !

~900 words, all fluff, sfw

John promised he’d be home for Christmas but you’ve received enough false promises from him to not let your hopes get as high as to imagine him tomorrow opening the presents you’ve so carefully wrapped and laid under the tree. Still, you’re stirring at the sound of tires pushing through the slushy snow that has accumulated on the roads all day long. Drifting between the gentle hands of sleep and slow, lazy thoughts of your plans for tomorrow, you can hardly keep your eyes open, the blankets’ embrace drawing you towards slumber each time you wake when a car passes.

The time on the cable box flickers at you when you wake again. 11:52. Disappointment is a familiar, dull sting. John values optimism over accuracy when he tries to predict what time he can get home to you- both because of his own eagerness to see you again but also because of his constant need to protect you, even from something as minor as misfortunate news regarding his return. You knew better than to hope that he would be home for Christmas but you had hoped anyway.

Turning on your side, you face the couch cushions and pull the blanket snugly around you, closing your eyes to ease the sting of tears. Sleepy and sad on Christmas Eve, it’s easy to slip into a doze when you know there’s nothing to wait up for. Your husband will not be coming home tonight.

But he does. Despite the snow, despite the jetlag, he’s keeping his promise. Wild in his chest, his heart beats, ready to calm and beat in time with yours. His windshield wipers stubbornly push the fat flakes of snow that try to coat his truck. The tiny glowing green clock reads 12:16 by the time he cuts the engine in your driveway. 

The world outside his truck is silent, as if the world was lulled to sleep by the frosty white which covers almost everything. Multicolored lights twinkle from under the snow that covers your bushes. Perhaps he would have taken a moment to appreciate the peace after a month of constant chaos but there is a greater peace to be found inside rather than out. 

His entrance is nearly silent, assuming you’re asleep because all the lights are off except for the warm lights wrapped around the Christmas tree that stands in the front window. Snowy boots stomping gently on the welcome mat, he spots your sleeping form on the couch and something in him relaxes, something that has been tense since he left your side. 

Seeing your face soft with sleep, body cuddled beneath a blanket, having failed in staying up in wait for him- it was nearly too much to take after so much time away. The domesticity of the sight was overwhelming.

His gloved hand placed a poorly wrapped gift under the tree before he crouched down by the couch, gently rubbing your shoulder to wake you. “Love…” His voice was a grumble from exhaustion. It was enough to make you stir, eyes fluttering open to meet his. 

He could only admire your adorably surprised expression for a moment before you were launching yourself into his arms despite how cold his jacket was against you. “You’re home,” was all you could manage in a shaky murmur. 

His chuckle rumbled through you as he held you closer to his chest so you were leaning more on him than the couch. His big bear hands press your warmth to him. The snowflakes in his beard wind up in your hair as he presses a kiss to your head. “Didn’t I tell ya I would be? So little faith in me…” he chides gently as he moves to scoop you up in his arms, cradling you against him.

Even as you curl into him, you lightly smack his shoulder. “You told me you’d be home on Christmas Eve. It’s Christmas day now.” He just tsk’s, finding this specification ridiculous.

“Ungrateful, naughty lil thing,” he teases and earns himself another playful smack. “With this attitude, you won’t be gettin’ a thing from Saint Nick.”

“I’ve already got what I want,” You murmur in response, eyes closed and an amused smile on your face as he places you in bed and fixes the blankets around you. 

“Oh, yeah? What’s that, pet?” You can hear him rummaging about the room, likely changing into some warm comfortable clothes. Normally, you’d be fussing over him, brewing him a tea and forcing him to sit but you know he’ll protest if you even try to get up. 

You only answer when the mattress dips beside you and two strong arms pull you in tight. He sighs right into your ear, clearly pleased with all this comfort after the horror that is military-issued cots. “This,” you reply, voice soft with content as your eyes peek open to look up at him in the dark room. “This is all I wanted for Christmas, being in your arms again.”

His expression softens as he meets your gaze, clutching you tighter with one hand while the other gives your cheek a gentle caress. “Missed you, lovey. Missed you and your sappy nonsense.” His hand gives your hip a playful squeeze to which you kick his leg under the covers, the both of you smirking. He gives you a kiss to stop the quick remark he knows you’re forming. 

When he pulls away, you smile up at him, sleepy and content. “Merry Christmas, John.”

He presses one last warm kiss to your forehead, his thumb gently rubbing your waist. “Happy Christmas, pet.”

Thank you for reading!! I'm absolutely open to comments/critiques because I'm really new to this! Have a merry Christmas! <3

[quibbs126]

I do kind of hope a series gives us a Megatron and Optimus with a “strangers to respected enemies/rivals to potentially more (at least in the fanfics)” sort of dynamic

Because I feel like that doesn’t really happen, at least not to my knowledge. I feel like if Megatron has a respect for Optimus, it’s usually due to their long, shared history, not something that develops over the course of the series

And I know some people say that’s what happens in TFA, but no, it really doesn’t. The two never reach the “respect” part, with Optimus hating Megatron for being an evil villain, and Megatron seeing him as a nuisance at best and never bothering to learn his name, only calling him it once like 2 minutes after being told it earlier in the fight, which I think in context doesn’t really count for much

I just feel like it’d be neat to properly explore, especially since I’m realizing we seem to have it fairly consistently be that they were “old friends” for a while now, let’s shake it up a little

[eddiemunson-reader-shame]

@mothmans-left-buttcheek didkdjsjskksjsjskksksksk ITS ALWAYS A GOOD DAY WHEN MY WIFE COMMENTS ON MY WORK 😭❤️❤️❤️❤️

LISTEN. I was the edgy fuck in high school who thought I was so cool and grown up because I “got” Stanley Kubrick films and everyone else “jUST DIDNT UNDERSTAND”, and then I realized you know what I need to calm down 😂

But yeah, I thought it was 100% on brand with Edgy Eddie Munson to be into Stanley Kubrick films and have a dark sense of humor. And the fact that there’s this fem Avon buying reader right there with him is just chef’s kiss. I loved the idea that she is both into rainbows and an edgy movie buff. She would probably have a decoden case of Alex DeLarge in the 2000s.

Be My Wife: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: A “friend” freaks out when you split a Coke with Eddie the Freak.

Warnings: references to A Clockwork Orange, bullying, STI/STD mention, backwash drinking

A/N: So… I know this isn’t a Christmas fic. But I wrote this because I had those times in my youth where someone spread horrid rumors about either me or my friends, and I had to make those split second decisions to determine my loyalty. I always try to be loyal as best I can.

Thank you to @writhingg for giving the green light on this fic. And big thanks to @rxqueenotd and @melodymunson as well. And big thanks to viewers like you. Thank you. ❤️

Resources: @strangergraphics-archive for the dividers.

Taglist: @ali-r3n @melodymunson @twihard28

“Hey droogie, can I have a sip of your Coke?”

You looked up from where you were perched on the pony wall by the Seven Eleven bike rack. You had been chatting with a classmate, Chessie Hagar, about purchasing a purse from her mother’s Avon Colorworks catalog. It was a new collection for the year 1977. Said eye catching magazine with its spread of rainbow themed products was currently held between the two of you, and the pages began to rattle as Chessie shook in fear upon hearing the deep voice.

A flutter-smack sounded from the girl dropping the catalog when Eddie The Freak approached. His stride was casual as one could be, whilst battling both midwestern humidity and pit sweat in a white hand-me-down Jimi Hendrix shirt and sleeveless denim vest. As one of the middle schoolers who had been blessed with a growth spurt, his lanky height, shredded second hand clothes, and shaved head often made those in your grade— and some of those above— piss their pants.

You alone did not fear him.

The Fates had elected to weave you both in a tangled web of coincidences: you had been his project partner in every shared class since you started at Hawkins Middle School together, and you just so happened to live in the same neighborhood on occasion. The distance from Al Munson’s janky two bedroom home to yours was but a hop skip and a jump. Eddie used to ding dong ditch your house when he was six, until one day your mother caught him by the ear and brought him in to mend his tattered jeans and offer up a hot meal.

To any other rando, he was an unstable pariah. But to you, he was just Eddie Munson— the cute boy next door who sometimes ate at your place. And you had become his droog after spending winter 1972 sneaking into the Hawk Theater, and making Stanley Kubrick films your new big boy personalities.

Without thinking, you handed the soft drink over. His fingers brushed against yours as he took the Coke out of your grip and went for a swig, with plush pink lips wrapping around the transparent jade glass of the lip and neck. His protruding Adam’s apple was bobbing with the rhythmic gulping, and you couldn’t stop staring.

“Thanks.” He belched out.

“You said a sip, not half the goddamn bottle!” You whined.

Eddie grinned sheepishly and backwashed a good mouthful. Giving a half assed apology and a promise to pay you back mumbled under his breath, he handed the bottle back.

“Still up for doing last minute project prep?” You asked, swirling the leftovers he’d saved for you.

“Nah, let’s take a break from the train wreck brothers. Catch you tomorrow, though?” He said, scratching a blackhead off his nose and snorting a bit, “I had an idea for the oral report that might earn us a little extra credit. Think you can mimic a British accent?”

“Eh. Can’t do an accent without sounding like fucking Alex DeLarge.” You groused.

“We can work on that. Leave your milk-plus at home, though. Don’t want me own droog reenacting some Roman ultra violence on me.”

“Just don’t go popping out from behind your curtains at me again, that’s a good way to get stabbed in the neck with my mom’s kitchen scissors.” You snorted.

“Ahhh, the droog’s no fun. I guess I can tone down the surprise pop ups, though. If you insist. Catch you later?” Eddie said, waving.

“Later. Peace out, man.”

Chessie let out a shaky, sobbing exhale when you made to drink the dregs of your soda, and you turned and raised an eyebrow.

“Whassamatter?” You asked.

“Are you nuts?! You just shared your drink with the freak!” She blurted out.

… since when the hell was sharing with Eddie a crime?

“Yeah, so? It’s hot out. He looked thirsty.” You said.

“Did you seriously forget everything we’ve heard about him?!” She whisper-screamed, “Don’t you care what everyone talks about?!”

You rolled your eyes. Everyone talked about Eddie. If you hadn’t heard at least one rumor from a faceless student whenever he walked by, you were either stupid or living under a rock. They said he was a bad boy— yes, even with a full vocabulary of slurs and insults available, they still called him a bad boy. Like if he was still in diapers drawing with crayon on the wall, and needed a spanking.

Depending on who you asked, Eddie either did or sold drugs, it was never clear which. Some of the other trailer park kids said he was a mean scrapper when he went to his uncle’s on alternate weeks. Women’s restroom lore stated that he carried a switchblade in the back pocket of his Wrangler jeans, and that he used it to torture animals for his Satanic rituals.

A million and one things were said about him on the daily, but you knew none of them were true in the slightest. None of the talk deterred you from spending time with him. Sometimes he came to your house, more often than not you went to his.

Every other day found the two of you parked in front of his mom’s turntable, jamming to Deep Purple and putting together an elaborate poster board with some spray painted fake leaves made into laurel crowns, along with a block of text about your chosen co-emperor of the early Roman Empire.

You had wanted to write about Caligula so you could use the word ‘orgy’ in the report without getting in trouble, but Eddie had insisted he had a better idea when he discovered a two years tumultuous ruling of brothers from 209 AD to 211 AD.

“As much as I love a good sex party on paper, you just know that’s what everyone else is gonna write about. Let’s write about this nut job Caracalla instead! Dude killed his brother in the arms of his mother, and struck his name from the record. That’s like, the most metal shit ever! Also, here’s a better word for you to learn: fratricide. Apparently there’s a whole list of technical terms for when you kill a family member.”

“… what’s the rumor mill gotta do with my Coke?” You deadpanned.

“If you drink after him, you’re gonna get mono like Cindy! You gotta throw it out!”

Cindy Bishop in your science class had told everyone that had functional ears— swearing up and down on her life— that Eddie Munson had kissed her and given her mononucleosis. A dreaded affliction whose nickname to you sounded like one of the variations of sound formats for any sort of audio.

“Mono…?”

“Yes! Or the syph!”

You knew Eddie had to have heard Chessie’s vitriol. Turning around, you could see him staring at the two of you from across the parking lot, one leg over his bike. There was a stinging look of betrayal on his face. Telltale signs of a wet cherry nose and shameful red cheeks gave away his mistrust; as if he was expecting you to do as your friend told, and throw the bottle he drank from in the trash.

His imaginary affliction was just that: imaginary. You knew that to be gospel.

The kiss with Cindy was real, unfortunately. It happened way before Cindy was kept home with mono, and you remembered the incident well. Eddie had come running to your house just to brag that he’d finally gotten his first kiss, and that pretty soon he’d be popping girl’s cherries left and right.

Just learning about the simple kiss had pissed you off, because the closest you’d ever gotten to kissing Eddie was sharing the same fork whenever you both roasted Vienna sausages on the gas burner in his kitchen. Eddie hadn’t been sick when Cindy stayed home, he came faithfully to school to trap you on the playground and speculate about the thousand and one hidden meanings behind the kiss.

With all the excitement, he never noticed the smallest details like you did. One of the guys in your PE class had been sent home with a rash and a high fever, and it was only a month after Cindy was rumored to have also kissed the collapsed boy that she got sick. You had always shared cups, utensils, and other things requiring mouth use with Eddie and had been fine. Yet Cindy and Tommy Hagan swapped spit once, and both were out of commission.

But no one would ever say anything about Tommy Hagan getting mono. They’d always redirect every disease outbreak to the poor loser who split time between Cherry Street and Forest Hills Trailer Park. The same poor loser who had the misfortune of wasting his first kiss with Cindy; a girl who frenched behind the portable classrooms with anything that had a pulse. People could be so blind and stupid, they failed to notice the sickness timelines were not matching up.

No one deserved their first anything to be with Cindy. Not with the way she stabbed people in the back.

You took a long, hard pause as you stared into Eddie’s wet brown eyes. He was asking you a silent question you already knew the answer to: were you a stinking traitorous droog, or a loyal one? Were you, his one friend in the entire world, going to stand against him?

Without saying a word, you looked at Chessie, then looked back again at Eddie.

In a world of traitors— where brothers stabbed brothers in the arms of their mothers, or where violent men disowned each other with drug laced milk bottles to the face, you would always pick instead to be Eddie Munson’s loyal droog.

You lathed at the lip of the bottle and stuck your tongue down the neck, and shotgunned all of Eddie’s backwash.

Chessie’s mouth dropped open as she began to gag, and Eddie opened his mouth in an obnoxious and breathless laugh as you chugged the entirety of his germs. The carbonation caught up to you, so you let a belch rip before turning back around to face him.

“I GOT YOUR MONO NOW, MUNSON!” You screamed out to him, “NOW YOU GOTTA MARRY ME!”

“IS THAT HOW IT WORKS, DROOGIE?” He shouted back, a shit eating grin stretched across his face, “YOU SHOULD HAVE LET ME KNOW BEFORE I TOOK A SWIG, I WOULD HAVE MADE SURE I GOT YOU A RING POP FIRST!”

“IT'S GODDAMN ROMAN CONFARREATIO LAWS, EDDIE! YOU GAVE ME MONO INSTEAD OF SPELT BREAD, NOW YOU GOTTA MARRY ME!” You joked.

You noticed from the big, smart ass grin that he was about to do something outrageous, and your heart began to sing. He immediately got to his knee on the asphalt, everyone in the Seven Eleven parking lot watching as he began to scream like an orator in the colosseum. He used your full government name and everything when he called out to the small parking lot audience.

“HEAR ME, CITIZENS OF HAWKINS! I AM BUT A VESSEL FOR THE GODS, A BEARER, A MESSENGER OF THAT MOST HOLY WORD FROM MOUNT OLYMPUS! I HAVE SHARED OF THE COOTIE WITH A WOMAN, AND THUS OUR MARRIAGE BETWEEN EMPEROR AND DROOG IS SOLEMNIZED-…!”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP, FREAK!” Someone called out, immediately flinching back when Eddie rounded on him.

“THE GODS. HAVE. SPOKEN!” Eddie screeched, a glob of spit flying out of his mouth and onto the hot asphalt.

He was wide eyed. Deranged. Eddie lifted up the hem of his denim vest and held it out and to the side, to look like wings unfurling, screaming to the heavens as you began howling with him.

“YEAH!” You screamed out, raising your bottle and shouting every bit of nonsense you could think of, “GOD SANCTIONED DROOG MARRIAGE CO-RULER ULTRA-VIOLENCE! MAZEL TOV!”

“THE IMPERIAL HUSBAND NOW DEMANDS TO KISS THE DROOG BRIDE!” Eddie screamed, “PLANT ONE ON ME, GODDESS DIVINE OF THE REPUBLIC OF HAWKINS!!”

You looked at Chessie, who looked as if she was going to throw up or scream. It wasn’t immediately clear which. Instead of ending the joke, you grinned. Shrugged. The glossy magazine paper pages of the forgotten Avon Colorworks catalog ripped under the tread of your shoes when— without warning— you took off towards Eddie, and planted a fat wet kiss on his mouth. He froze for a moment, but returned the kiss with fervor, making an obnoxious hum and wet smack when you pulled away.

“Yum.” You gushed, licking your lips and changing your cadence to the unhinged Kubrick Cockney, “Them’s tasty cooties, they are, brother sir!”

“Yeah? Them false cytomegalovirus germs are what taste good to ya, droog?” He laughed, wrapping his arms around you and putting on his own terrible accent.

“That they are, sir, that’s what gives all me food and drink that plus flavor.” You grinned.

The two of you cackled, thoroughly enjoying throwing out random quotes and various insanities that to the normal person would put them off of your insanity and edge-lord humor. Chessie had long since taken off for the gated community of Loch Nora on her bike, but you didn’t care. You could live without a selection of eyeshadows, a rainbow tote purse, and all of your false friends if the choice came down to choosing them, or Eddie.

“Wanna go into the gas station and split another bottle of mono before we blow this joint?” You asked.

His grin could have rivaled that of Malcolm McDowell.

“Now, how can I say no to my new wife?” He grinned, holding out his arm for you to take, “But I am a man of my word, so you’re getting a new Coke, plus that Ring Pop so’s we can make this thing official.”

“Spare no expense, huh?” You grinned, and he pulled you in closer. Both of your hips knocking together.

“Hey… Only the best and finest gems and refreshments for Empress Droog the First of Hawkins, Indiana.” Eddie said with a confident smile.

You smiled at him, nudging one another with your bodies all the way into the gas station, until he pulled you in for another sloppy kiss in the middle of the snack aisle.