#i need to settle on one of those tags it's embarrassing

[22ndnervousbreakdown]

I'm sorry, The Naval Treaty and The Second Stain are meant to take place DURING THE SAME MONTH???? They had 2 separate cases where they needed to find an ultra important international document IN THE SPAN OF ONE MONTH????

Oh my god I just know they laughed soooo hard and judged those government guys soooooo bad

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere Neighbour - Noncon

With your electricity out and your devices dead, you have no choice but to turn to your neighbour for help. He's more than willing to welcome you into his home. Really, you're lucky he's such a nice guy.

Tags: male yandere x gender neutral reader, noncon, somno, just the tip anal, daddy kink but only if you squint, 3.3k words

Living in the middle of nowhere had its perks. Privacy. Untouched nature. Peace and quiet.

But after the third day with no electricity, those perks were starting to look pretty damn weak. Your fridge was sitting in an ever expanding puddle. Almost all your devices were dead. And if you had to take one more cold shower you were going to cry.

It was when you were digging through your drawer looking for desperately needed batteries that you found your neighbour's number. He'd offered it to you a little while after you moved in, and while you two were on friendly terms, you'd never actually spoken for longer than a few minutes. You sighed, looked at the 10% left on your phone and decided that desperate times called for desperate measures.

You: hey, it's me. I still haven't got any power. Do you mind if I come over to charge some stuff?

He replied almost instantly.

Unknown: aww that sucks

Unknown: come on over. I've got hot stew and a generator

Unknown: and you can take a hot shower too if you want

Score. And to think you found him intimidating at first. Just goes to show that you can't judge on appearances. You packed a change of clothes, your devices and the last tub of ice cream that wasn't totally melted. You'd find some way to properly pay him back but a tub of chocolate fudge double cream wasn't a bad way to start.

He was waiting on his porch when you pulled up. A bear of a man in a flannel and blue jeans, a five o' clock shadow darkening his jaw.

"Howdy neighbour," he drawled, opening your door for you while you grabbed your stuff. "Regretting leaving the city yet?"

You huffed a laugh. "You do NOT want to know the answer to that."

His cabin was much larger than yours, a two storey behemoth with wide windows and exposed beams. It had a rustic charm - like some natural park Air BnB where they charged a weeks pay for just one night. A little too big for just one man. Didn't he get lonely?

"I brought some ice cream and chocolate to say thank you. And also because it miiight have been melting."

He opened the door for you and ushered you through with a hand on your lower back.

"Hell, I'll never say no to something sweet."

There was a fire burning in the fireplace and a stack of logs in a crate next to it. He was so much better suited to this life than you were. He locked the door behind you and slipped the keys into his pocket.

"Old habit," he explained with an easy grin.

"Why don't you get settled? I'll plug your stuff in."

You handed over your tech with a relieved sigh.

"Thank you. Really. I'm so behind on work already and I haven't heard anything back from the power company."

"I wouldn't hold my breath," he said. "Once ended up going a week straight with not even a light bulb flickering."

You winced. "It gets that bad?"

"Yep. Especially in winter. Gets dangerous then too."

He tilted his head at you, concerned. "You need to get yourself better sorted before it starts snowing. I hate to think of you stuck out there when the blizzards start rolling in."

God, could you be any more of a city slicker? You rubbed your neck, embarrassed.

"Thanks. I've been here a few months now and I guess I just didn't realise how serious things can get."

"It's all good. But if I'm honest, I get worried thinking about you out there all alone. Plenty of drifters end up passing through. Not a good place to be alone, not for a little thing like yourself."

Little? You wanted to feel indignant, but looking at his bulk, you reckoned that most folk probably seemed little to him.

He lead you to the fireplace and poured you a mug of coffee from the pot that was waiting for you. He jerked his head at the hunting rifle on display above the mantle.

"I can teach you to shoot, if you've got some free time."

You took a sip of the coffee, internally debating with yourself. You could see the sense in your offer but you weren't a big fan of guns. Hell, just being around them was nerve wrecking enough. Maybe -

You looked down at your mug in surprise.

"This is some really good stuff."

The coffee was strong, bitter in the best sort of way. You could catch a hint of chocolate in it too. Just sweet enough to make your toes curl.

" 'Course. Only the best for my guest. Help yourself to another cup. I'll just put your stuff on charge and be right back."

You finished your drink in a few sips and happily poured a second serving. Hot coffee... man, you didn't think three days without it would be so tough. Usually, you were pretty sensitive to caffeine. But by the time your neighbour came back, your head was tilted back and you were half asleep.

You tried to shake yourself out of it but he just laughed and pushed you back down.

"You probably haven't had a good sleep since the power went out. Just rest. We can talk once you wake up."

"I'm sorry..."

"It's fine." His hand was still on your shoulder, thumb rubbing small circles into your neck. "It's just fine with me."

You drifted off after that. Into a deep sleep without any dreams. Waking up was like slogging through molasses.

"Finally up sleepy head?"

It was dark outside and your neighbour was on one knee in front of the fire place, coaxing fresh wood to catch.

You sat up slowly. Your muscles ached and there was a strange, salty taste on your tongue.

"My heads killing me..."

He stood, poker still in his hand. "You must be starving then. I've already got some food on the stove. You'll feel better after you eat."

You didn't feel hungry at all. If anything, you felt almost hangover.

"Thanks," you managed. "I'm sorry to be such a bother."

He waved you away. "I don't mind a bit."

He came back with a bowl of steaming hot chow and stood with his arms crossed on the back of your couch while you ate.

"It's real late. I reckon you should stay over. I don't want you driving on dirt when it's so dark."

"Oh, it's fine. I've already put you out so much."

"Don't be silly. I insist."

You shivered without meaning to. That almost growl, low and bordering on menacing. It was so familiar, so...

"Just like that. Look at you, half asleep and still desperate for my cock."

"You like the taste? Yeah, I bet you fucking do."

"Ain't just gonna use your mouth next time."

You squeezed your eyes shut. Where the hell was this coming from? Were you remembering some sick dream from this afternoon?

"You okay there neighbour?"

You nodded. "Just my head."

Maybe he was right. Driving when you were so disorientated was just asking for trouble.

"If you really don't mind... I'll be happy to sleep over."

He laughed, a deep, rumbling thing. "I'll make the guest room up special, just for you."

"Could I use your shower too?"

"I offered didn't I? Come on, I'll show you where it is."

He took you to the master bedroom and jerked his thumb at the en-suite.

"Hot water is the most reliable in there. Door doesn't close that well though, so don't mind it. I'll be downstairs when you're done."

You brushed your teeth carefully. You lips felt sore, bruised in a way you couldn't explain.

You waited until you heard his footsteps going down the stairs before you stripped off your clothes. You stood under the hot water for a good few minutes, luxuriating in the feeling. The bathroom was thick with steam when you finally got to scrubbing yourself. The door was open just a crack and the bedroom beyond was dark. You forgot all about it until you heard the creak of the hinges.

You whirled to face the door, your hands coming up to cover yourself. The steam was too thick to see through. You called his name.

Nothing.

You stepped out with suds still on your thighs and pushed the door open. The room beyond was empty.

You sighed. God, you were being paranoid. Your neighbour was a great guy. It was unfair of you to treat him like a peeping tom when he'd gone out of his way to make you comfortable. It must have been just an errant draught.

You stepped back into the shower and rinsed yourself off. But no matter what you told yourself, you still kept an eye on the door.

When you went to change into your fresh clothes, you spent at least five minutes hunting for your underwear. Did you drop it somewhere? Oh, please say your undies weren't just sitting in the middle of his hallway. That would be beyond embarrassing.

Eventually you gave up and just decided to go without them. Not comfortable at all but still better than walking around in a towel to look for them. And much better than calling your neighbour in to help. Wouldn't that be fun? 'Hey neighbour that I don't know that well, you haven't seen my intimates lying around, have you?' Yeah, you'd never again get invited over after something like that.

When you were dressed, you found him already on his way up the hall. He was carrying a glass of water and some pills.

"Thought you might still have a headache, so I brought you some painkillers."

You paused, nervous but not sure why.

"Thanks." His hands dwarfed yours when he handed them over. You didn't recognise the name of on the pills, but they looked harmless. You tossed them back and gagged at the bitter aftertaste.

"They pack a punch, so tell me when you start to get drowsy."

"Aye aye captain."

You followed him to the guest room. It was at the very back on the second story, quieter than the rest of the house. A huge glass wall gave you a view of the forest disappearing into the darkness. You could see the ghost of your reflection in the glass, your neighbour a hulking, shapeless mass at your shoulder.

He took a seat in an armchair across form the bed and stretched out his legs. You perched on the edge of the mattress, still feeling a bit like an intruder.

"How long have you been staying out here?” you asked.

He smiled at you, teeth glinting almost wolf-like. "Got you curious?"

"A little. Folk in town say they hardly see you. I don't know... I'm just wondering if you ever get lonely."

He was quiet and you cursed yourself for being so nosy. You hurried to fill the silence.

"It's just that I get a bit lonely out here too. 'Specially when it's so quiet. And I guess I was wondering if it's the same for you."

He smiled at you, rueful. "At times. Used to be worse, but I've got a new interest to keep me occupied nowadays."

"Oh yeah? What?"

"Bird watching."

"Really? What do you look for?"

The way the room was lit up, you couldn't see his eyes. They fell into shadow and you only had his lips to read his emotions by. He smirked, slow and almost mocking.

"Just one bird I look out for. Flighty little thing. Tends to get caught by predators a lot. You’d probably recognise it."

The polite thing to do would be to ask what it was called. You didn't. Some part of whispered that you wouldn't like the answer.

You must have been quiet a little too long because he took it as his cue to leave. He stood, a mountain of muscle, his eyes not quite as nice as they seemed that afternoon. A trick of the light, surely. He wouldn't hurt a fly.

"You rest up. Got a busy day tomorrow."

"G'night."

He was gone before you thought to ask what he meant. And you were passed out on your pillows before you realised it. He was right. The pills sure did pack one hell of a punch.

You were aware of a shadow at the end of your bed. You weren't fully awake, and your limbs were slow and heavy with more than just sleep.

"Who..."

The shadow reached down and one warm paw circled your ankle.

"Just me little bird."

You knew that voice. It was the voice that brought you warm food and invited you in from the cold. You could trust it. Could go back to sleep and not worry about anything.

'No,' some part of you hissed, 'He's not as safe as you think.'

"Cold..."

The shadow laughed and it was the laugh of the fox finding the rabbit's den. Nasty. Hungry.

"Cold huh? Don't worry baby. I'll warm you right up."

He yanked your ankle towards him and your whole body slid down the bed. You were too drowsy to stop it.

"Knew you were gonna be mine the second I saw you," he cooed, hands running up your thighs.

His fingers slipped under your waistband, nails scraping your hip bones.

"Dumb little thing from the city. Doesn't even realise I've tripped all their breakers. That's why you don't have power baby. It's all me."

His fingers were as big as the rest of him. Thick, meaty. Skin rough from working outdoors. You whined when his fingertips scraped the edges of your hole.

"No underwear. You needy slut. That's practically a written and signed invitation to fuck you."

He pulled your pants down to your ankles and pushed your knees up to your stomach. And you were too out of it to stop him. Limp and pliable as a fuck doll.

Your tight ass was exposed to the cold air, entirely at the mercy of whatever he wanted to do.

"Cute." He circled his thumb around the rim, almost pushing in but not quite. "Wanted to be in this ass since you first showed up at my door all those months ago. Lookin' up at me all sweet. Fuck, it's enough to drive a man to desperation."

He lowered his head and you could feel his warm breath washing over your thighs.

He dragged his tongue across your hole. Some part of you must have been more awake than the rest, because your whole body jerked away from him.

"None of that," he cooed, hands digging into your thighs and dragging you back. "I haven't even gotten started yet."

He licked you again, deeper this time. The flexed tip of his tongue pushing at your entrance, and to your dull horror, actually slipping in. He moaned and you could feel the vibrations all through your crotch.

He pulled out and spat, rubbed it in with his fingers. One of them pushed in until the second joint, curling into your walls so rough that you gasped.

"Please..."

"Please what?" he mocked. "Please fuck my tight little ass? Please cum inside me? Use your words little bird."

"Please...stop..."

That made him laugh again, made him shove his finger in all the way to the knuckle. Twisting so cruelly as he pulled out and jerked back in.

"Stop? Stop? After all the work it took to get you here? No way baby. I'm not slowing down and I'm sure as fuck not stopping."

You heard the sound of his belt unbuckling, followed by a sharp intake of breath when he nudged his leaking head against your hole.

"You’re not going to remember this. And I'm not going to leave any evidence."

He pushed your legs tighter against your chest.

"So as much as I want to fuck you rotten, you're gonna have to be happy with just the tip."

He'd done a good job loosening and lubing you, but it still burned like a hot poker when he forced his way in. He groaned, almost in pain.

"You're fucking choking me. God, do you want my cum so bad?"

You could feel when the tip was in. That tiny difference in thickness between his head and shaft was oh so noticeable when your ass was clenching and fluttering around it. It was the smallest mercy, but mercy nonetheless.

He was panting from the effort of getting it in, the effort of holding back. The size difference between you almost perverse. Like a draft stallion trying to mount a pony. In every way, he was just too fucking big.

He spat in his hand and brought it to his cock, ran his palm up and down his shaft with sickly wet strokes. The combination of his palm and your squeezing ass was fucking delicious.

He had great stamina but fuck if it didn't feel like you were milking him.

He let go long enough to smack your ass. It almost finished him. You clenched around him so hard it felt like his tip was getting fucking crushed.

"Shiiiit, you're the best hole I've ever had. Can't wait 'til I can go all the way."

You whined, pitiful as snared prey. There were words there, though they were too slurred to make out. Something about Daddy and please and stop. He ignored you.

He pushed in a little deeper and watched your face scrunching up. So helpless, so fucking caught. That was what did it. The knowledge that he could do this to you at any point and you'd be helpless to stop it.

He came inside you, snarling through clenched teeth, his fingers digging into your thigh hard enough to bruise. You'd notice the marks in the morning and chalk it up to just being clumsy. But he'd know. He'd see the bruises peeking out from the hem of your shorts and his cock would twitch just a little at the memory of leaving them.

His cock pulsed. Shot strings of spunk deep inside you. You could feel it. Hot, too hot. Gross. Make it stop. Get it out.

He pulled out with a wet pop. His cum drooled down and he took a minute to work it back into you with his finger. Your hole was gaping just a little and it made his balls pulse. If he had the time...

"A real fucking mess. And on my good sheets too. You're a terrible guest."

He mopped up whatever cum remained with a balled up piece of martial that he pulled from his pocket. Even in you stupor, you recognised it as your missing underwear.

"Terrible guest, but the perks of having you around are pretty fucking sweet."

He dropped your knees back to the mattress, pulled your pants back into place and roughly yanked the duvet over you. He grabbed your jaw and smiled at the lost, drowsy look in your half open eyes.

"Got a big day tomorrow. Gonna wake up and find your whole house was flooded. Ruined. Gonna have nowhere to stay but with me."

He sounded smug. It made your guts twist.

Outside, the night grew quiet. A predator was hunting and most prey knew better than to catch its attention.

"I made sure of it. All your family and friends in the city are away from home. There's no one around to help you out..."

He tightened his grip just enough to watch the fear start dancing in your eyes.

"No one...except me."

He let you go and smiled that same warm, comforting smile from that afternoon.

"Dumb little thing. Got no clue how your water mains work, do you? Got no idea how easy they are to sabotage."

He tutted. "Got me so damn busy. I'm gonna have to run to your place, fuck shit up and be back here before you wake up for real."

He traced his index finger over your lips and left behind a sticky coating of spunk. You'd wake up tasting salt again, with no memory of why.

"But it's fine. I forgive you. After today we'll have plenty of time together. Rest of our lives in fact. So just sleep tight and forget what you think you've dreamed."

There are perks to living in the middle nowhere. Privacy. Untouched nature. Peace and quiet.

There are perks, but unfortunately for you, your neighbour isn't one of them.

[yougavememyopia]

Can we pls get more of masochist yandere I love him so much!!

For you anon <3

Tags: PT.1, dirty talk, he's trying so hard to seduce you, bunny costume, "miss/mistress," 18+

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“Hey roomie~ I wanna show you this new thing I bought. I hope you'll like it!” You groaned at the sound of the cheery high-pitched voice, hating how sweet his voice sounded. You could practically hear him jumping from excitement. His foot lightly tapping the ground in impatience. "I wore it all for you, y'know? It'd be rude if you didn't look."

You hummed, unamused. "Don't tell me it's another one of those shirts that says 'I belong to her' or whatever. Those were fucking childish."

Scrolling through your phone, you didn't bother making eye contact. A part of you enjoying the exaggerated whine coming from him. "First of all, mean! Second, it's nothing like that. It's totally different. Come on, come on. Look at me! Please. Pretty please?"

A tired sigh unintentionally escaped your lips. All he ever caused was annoyance and a headache. You finally took one glance at him before going back to your device. Pausing for a second to register what you saw. Your eyes traveling back to his figure, scanning him up and down from his bare thighs to his exposed collarbone. He was wearing black over-the-knee socks, with a bunny costume tightly hugging his torso. Accessorized with detachable white cuffs and collar with a set of fluffy ears and tail to complete the look.

“Ta-da~ Don't I just look so cute? Hm?” He brought his hands cheeks and posed for you, one of his legs lifted in the air behind him.

"W-what the hell?!" The words left in a mumble. An unexplainable feeling stopping you from looking away. "I should've predicted that you were gonna do something like this."

He had recently convinced you to let him move in with you. Surprising you by breaking into your house with a smile and a prepared meal on the table. Proving his commitment by coming day after day until you gave in. The long romantic dates, the humiliating begging by your feet— all finally worth it when you helped him unpack his boxes.

You finally managed to turn your head. Trying to find something interesting on your phone to distract you from what you saw.

"Awe, come on! Why'd ya look away? It's good material and I got it at a good price! Don't tell me you don't like it..." His words weren't a way to guilt-trip you, but instead an accusation. As if he knew, without a doubt, that it was something you liked.

Realization settled in. "Have you been going through my phone, you fucking creep?"

"Mhm, you know I have. There I was, on my nightly visit to your bedroom, when I saw that someone forgot to close their incognito tabs. It was a real treat~" He giggled evilly, the teasing grin on his face growing as your eyes widened. In a chilling whisper, he said, "I know how filthy your thoughts are. There's nothing you can hide from me." His hands rested on the couch armrest while he leaned down to kiss your cheek. Making a 'mwah' noise before pulling away.

You involuntarily gulped. An embarrassed warmth flushing your cheeks and some place else. "That is a huge invasion of privacy, you asshole! Shit. How did you even managed to guess my password— no, what the fuck do you do during your nightly visits?!"

"ANYWAY, we never take anything further than kissing... And I'm tired of jerking off. So I thought this will help our relationship. I mean, seriously, don't I look fuckable?" He turned around to show you a view of his backside. Harshly slapping his barely-covered bum. "I would fuck me."

"I have a lot more self control than you think. We won't do anything of the sorts. Our relationship, if you can even call it that, needs more time. I don't fucking know how to love an annoying shit like you."

"But don't you want to have a good time? Again, with your tenseness... You need to relax. Making out is really nice and all, but it causes a problem down there... y'know?" He gave you a sly grin. It made you recall the times you caught him with your panties stuffed in his face. "I hope you didn't forget you're the one responsible, so for once, take care of it! It's all your fault."

He plopped down on the couch with crossed arms, the force of his anger bouncing the cushions slightly. A pout on his lips and a playful glare in his eyes. He circled his arms around your shoulders. Giving you a hug from the side and starting his whining. "I'm impatient, roomie~ Dammit, please! Please, please, please! I feel like I'm gonna EXPLODE soon. Augh!!"

"..." You refused to even look at him. Afraid of the flutter in your heart growing.

He continued, taking advantage of your silence to persuade you. "Don't you wonder what I sound like in bed? Don't wanna know how I'd moan your name?" He leaned in way closer. Your body stiffening at the breath fanning your face. A shiver sent right down your spine when he moaned in your ear. "Oh please, miss, please fuck me faster~ Ah~!"

You couldn't look at him, quietly mumbling a curse in defeat. Hands clutching your pants. Hoping he didn't hear how your voice shook. The truth was, you didn't want to deny him any longer, conflicted with how soft you were becoming to him. A part of you wanting to just throw him over and ride him, yet another, more sadistic part wanting to make him cry frustrated tears and beg you to just let him hump your leg. Ultimately, you were unable to stop the dirty scenarios flooding your head. The feeling of arousal growing longer by the minute when his lustful eyes met yours.

You mustered up your strength, "no."

"N-no?" His eyes widened in shock. He thought he had you convinced with his amazing performance.

"No."

You pushed him off of you. Immediately going on your phone. He exhaled a loud huff and leaned back against the couch, arms hugging himself instead. Blankness crossing his features. Why were you so difficult?

A few seconds of silence was shared until he got a new, brilliant idea.

He cleared his throat. Adjusting his fake bow and pushing a random object off the coffee table. "Oops! Better get that~"

He bent down in front of you, in a way that his round buttocks rubbed against your lap. Another way to evoke you.

"Answer's fucking no. Horny bitch." You kicked him away and he gasped in surprise. Dramatically humphing. Slowly losing his cool.

He stood up straight and stomped his feet to the ground. The sexy bunny outfit not making this situation any easier. He came off as adorable, rather than threatening.

"You aren't impressed by my big ass? I worked hard on it, y'know. Don't you just want to hit it? Punish me for dressing so naughty? I won't stop until you put me in my place. There are sooo many other outfits I can try on. So just spank me already! I won't give up. If this doesn't work, I'll just try again and again and a— Who are you texting? I swear I'll find them and kill them! You're supposed to pay attention to ME!"

His hands formed fists when you didn't respond. Fuck, he was getting tired of this. An exhausted moan left his mouth. He fell to his knees in front of you, burying his face in between your tights. Soft cheek nuzzling up against your leg. "Please. Just head pats. At least praise me, call me your bunny. I'll be satisfied with that..."

Finally, you put your phone away. A surge of satisfaction in your chest at how you made him docile only by ignoring him. Your fingers grazed the tip of the fluffy fake ear. Pathetic eyes looked up to observe your movements. Silently asking for more affection.

"Good pet." You praised. Your hand lightly scratching the back of his head. "That's so much better. You were gonna give me a fucking headache with all that whining."

"Ahh, it hurts." He looked so pitiful as he whimpered.

"What hurts, bun?"

A lazy smirk formed on his face. "My pants... they feel so tight~"

You rolled your eyes, You felt a bit dumb for thinking he was actually going to be satisfied with mere praise. Your grip became harsh, fingers tugging the strands of his hair up. He moaned— his eyes closed in pleasure while his bulge twitched against your leg.

"M-mistress, please..." He begged as your spit landed on his lips. He licked the liquid slowly, not breaking the eye contact. Groaning at the humiliating act. "Don't you wanna let me use my skillful tongue on you? Please just sit on my face. I want to taste you, so so so bad!"

"Licking my panties isn't enough for you anymore? Huh? Did you get bored of them that fast? Pity." You teased, pulling one last time before letting go of his head.

He winced. Fixing his hair, and soothing it with pets. "Miss, you treat your poor bunny so harshly. Not that I don't like it. Can I... tell you a secret? I'm wearing a pair of your underwear right now~"

"Ugh, you fucking disgust me." Your insult only caused him to greedily grind his hardness to your leg faster. He loved the look on your face. "Shit. Stop moving your hips!"

"Mmh, but I want relief, miss. I need it."

A harsh slap rang through the room. He gulped. His movements immediately stopping to obey you. "You'll get relief when I fucking give you permission. Understand that, dumb rabbit?"

"Finally— I mean, yes, mistress. Anything you say!" An endearing smile reached his eyes. "You have no idea how long I waited for this~"

You, too, felt excited. Thoughts swimming through your head about how you'll proceed with this. His fingers spread out to form a V, his tongue flicking up and down between them, giving you an idea of what you wanted to do. Thighs clenching together as you imagined it in your head. "Maybe we'll finally see whether you were lying about your skills, hm?"

[the-witty-pen-name]

Little Glimpses

Igor (Anora) x F! Reader

18+ Only Blog - Minors DNI

Warnings: smoking, alcohol consumption, cursing

Word Count: 2.5k

Notes: I have not been able to stop thinking about this man since I saw Anora. I just had little parts of stories in my head so I compiled them into one thing.

Little glimpses into the reader’s relationship with Igor.

Everything on the table shakes when the train passes by. You press your hand down, gently holding onto the crystal ashtray in front of you to stop it from dancing around. Your eyes feel heavy. So you tilt your head back, and rest them for a moment until the disruption subsides. You take a drag of your cigarette and exhale in the direction of the open window next to you- letting the smoke waft outside your small studio. Once everything stills, the only sound is the comforting tick of the clock above your stove. You take one final puff before dropping your butt into the ashtray. You watch it smolder as it slowly burns out. You need to get ready for your shift.

You hate your uniform. The bright blue polo shirt and the stupid matching visor- fucking stupid. You feel like you look like a moron and you’ve always found it embarrassing. You always took off the dumb thing when your manager went home for the night. No one comes in after midnight ever- the occasional drunk but they don’t care if you’re wearing your visor or not.

On the slow nights you read, or sometimes you’ll watch trashy reality TV on your phone. With your elbows perched on the counter, you flip through your most recent romance novel as the time passes. It’s well past 1am and the bright fluorescent lights buzz above you.

“Uh- $40 pump two, please,” a polite voice breaks your concentration. It makes you jump in surprise and you apologize quickly.

“Shit- uh, fuck sorry,” you fumble, quickly placing the book down, opened to keep your page. You take the cash he hands you as he offers a subtle smile.

“No need for apology,” he expresses, and you can now hear his accent- distinctly Russian, or maybe Armenian? You aren’t sure. His voice is soft and comforting- very kind. You’re immediately more at ease. He reads your name aloud from your name tag. It’s infuriating as much as it’s endearing.

“You’re all set,” you offer, suddenly shy. You pass him the receipt after it is printed. He nods, tucking it into his jacket pocket. You watch him walk back outside, the cold air wafting in as the bell above the door rings.

As he waits by the pump, he catches you watching him through the window of the store. When he meets your eye, he’s amused when you immediately look away- trying to play off like you weren’t looking the whole time. He’s flattered, and he can’t help but smile to himself. He’s not used to any sort of attention- he tends to go by unnoticed in his daily life. He can be intimidating when he tries- out of necessity, but that’s not him.

He’s so pretty, you observe, like James McAvoy you settle on. You avert your attention away for the final time and decide to turn back to your book and do your best to ignore the headache that’s developing under the store’s harsh lights.

It’s one of those passing crushes, at first. The kind like when you fall in love temporarily with a stranger across the grocery store. You play out the whole thing in your head to inevitably never approach them, go home, and let the cycle of daydream continue another day with another stranger.

---

You’re freezing as you stand on the sidewalk in the long line that has now wrapped around the block. Your ankles hurt from the height of your heels but they’re too cute not to wear. Your outfit is far too short and shows far too much skin for the night air, but in your defense- you and your friends didn’t imagine you’d be outside this long. Your entire body is covered in goosebumps as you wrap your arms around yourself to keep warm. Your friend offers you a cigarette which you accept gratefully as she places it in your mouth for you.

“Fuck!” you exclaim frustrated, “Why aren’t they fucking letting anyone in?” You peer over to try to see the front of the line, and you notice people towards the front are trying to reason with the club’s bouncer- who you immediately hate because you resent his hoodie and puffer jacket he wears to brace the cold. You think about how the moment you can step foot in, you’re making a beeline to the bar and getting a shot to warm up.

Someone, probably a promoter or something, emerges from the inside. He says something to the bouncer, you’re too far away to hear. The bouncer nods, and the guy starts walking down the line. He looks at the groups who are waiting, and he gestures to a few groups of just girls- you and your friends included- and ushers you all inside. You’re too elated to care as he’s saying something about needing to up the ratio of men to women blah blah blah. You quickly stomp out your cigarette and all you can think about is warming up.

You link arms with two of your friends as you head towards the inside, scurrying excitedly to get out of the cold. The bouncer nods to each group as they enter, but puts up an arm to stop you and your friends. “IDs,” he says, and you swear his voice sounds so familiar.

“C’mon man, we’re cold as shit,” your friend complains, letting go of your arm to retrieve her ID from her clutch. Looking in his direction, you immediately recognize him from the other day- the customer from your overnight shift. You aren’t sure if he would recognize you, you're positive you put more thought into the whole interaction than he did. You make eye contact and you swear for a moment he wants to say something, but he just stares. Realizing you decided to go without a bag, you bite your lip and mutter a silent “shit” as you need to pull your ID from your bra to hand to him. He says nothing, just nervously licks his lips as he takes your license.

“Thanks,” he says, handing them back. Your friends huff, and drag you inside. Your eyes linger on him as they pull you and you both watch each other until you disappear from view.

A remix of Von dutch is playing so loud and the club is packed. It’s completely dark except for the raving strobe lights that are synced to the beat of the music. You can’t hear anything over the screams of Addison Rae as your friends get a round of shots. You happily accept, tilting your head back. The burn is such a welcomed sensation to your freezing body. You let the crowd dictate where your body moves, letting yourself start to let loose.

A couple of hours later, you’re more than ready to get out of there. It was fun, but your friends have mostly paired off with men and you’re anticipating that soon they’ll be roping them into wherever the group decides to go next. You aren’t in the mood for another night of splitting a cab with one of your friends and whatever guy is going back to their place. You don’t need the reminder that amongst the group, you’re never the one getting the guy, you think pessimistically. You text your friends, lying about an early shift, and let them know you’re getting an Uber.

Standing outside, you’re freezing again, and it’s almost worse now that your body has been so acclimated to the warmth inside. You lean against the brick building and cross your arms over your chest in an attempt to warm yourself up.

“Here,” you hear him say, and you look up surprised, not realizing he was there. He offers you his jacket for you to take. “You need,” he insists. You offer a thankful smile and slip it over your shoulders. It smells like woodsy cologne and cigarettes. The warmth engulfs you and you swaddle yourself into the warm fabric.

“Thank you,” you say shyly. He nods and puts his hands in the front pocket of his hoodie. He pulls out a small pack of pre-rolls, and offers one to you. You accept and hold it between your fingers as he lights it for you.

“You probably don’t fucking remember me, but like, I think you got gas the other night at the uh place I work-”

“I remember.”

“Oh, okay-”

“You were reading a book and then what’s the word ‘ogled’ me? You ‘ogled’ me when you thought I wasn’t looking,” he teased.

“I was not ogling you!” you scoff, defensive. You can feel how warm your face is from his accusation. “It’s my job to make sure dumbasses aren’t gonna blow themselves up at the pump. It was purely a safety measure,” you lie obviously, making him laugh.

“Whatever you say,” he responds with a sly smile. You see a car start to pull up. Reluctantly, you unwrap yourself from his jacket and hand it back to him.

“Uh, that’s my Uber,” you explain and you swear he looks disappointed. He nods, accepting his jacket back.

“Can I call you?” he asks as the black sedan pulls up to the curb. You nod enthusiastically. He hands you his phone and you quickly text yourself.

“Uh that’s me,” you explain dumbly, cringing because duh. He just smiles, and it’s painfully sincere. You slide into the backseat of the car, and you can feel your phone buzz with a notification before you even finish putting on your seatbelt.

My name is Igor

---

You’re sitting on your couch as you lick the rolling paper to finish off your joint. A metal tv tray rests over your lap acting as your work station. You admire your work and then pass it to Igor, who accepts it without a word. You move the tray table to the floor so you can get comfortable, and you lean into his side as he lights the joint. The two of you share it, passing it back and forth between each other as your eyes are both focused on the TV.

It’s been a few weeks and your relationship with Igor has gone on undefined. Lines have been blurred and you can’t pin point if it’s the substances that are in your systems or if it’s just that when you’re with him, time feels like it stops- a hangout stretching into a couple days without you even realizing.

You don’t know what you’d call this. It’s not friends, and it feels much like it’s much more than casual. You assume it’s exclusive- you spend so much time together; there’s hardly any opportunities for him to see someone else. But there’s been no lines drawn, no labels given- he’s slotted himself into your life seamlessly like you’ve known him forever. His grandmother treats you like her own blood, taking an immediate liking to you. It all just works.

“What is this?” You ask suddenly, looking up at him. His eyes widen in confusion. He takes the joint out from between his lips, exhaling smoke.

“Maybe Idica, I don’t know,” he muses and you sigh in frustration at your inability to be direct.

“I’m sorry,” you laugh, hiding your face in your hands. “No, not that,” you clarify. “I meant like- you and me.”

“Oh, um,” he replies, mulling things over in his head before he speaks. “Whatever you want.”

“I don’t know what I want,” you answer honestly, and he nods understandingly, but you feel him clear his throat and you can feel him straighten his posture. You worry he misunderstood your meaning. “No, no- fuck. I made it weird,” you sigh, “I just meant like, I don’t want to mess it up by changing it. But at the same time, I don’t want you doing this with someone else- and I don’t want to do this with anyone else but you- you know?”

“I know,” he replies, he’s so patient and sweet about it. He kisses your temple and just lets you process. He’s so gentle like that, all the time. “I want the same,” he states simply. “Just us,” he reiterates, taking another hit and then passes the joint back to you.

“Just us,” you smile.

“So does this mean we’re uh, boyfriend girlfriend?” He teases and he laughs at how your nose scrunches in disgust.

“Gross,” you pretend to gag. You shake your head, like your trying to shake out the memory of him saying something so fucking cheesy. It makes him smile.

—

“He’s coming runnin’ runnin’ runnin’ runnin’ runnin’ runnin’,” you sing obnoxiously as Igor’s pulls up to the curb. “He’s coming. Ridin’ round town, they gonna feel this one.” You see his cheeks turn pink as he tries to not laugh.

“What the fuck is that?” He questions, walking around to open the passenger door for you.

“Oh my fucking god, dude. It’s Tyler the Creator- it’s IGOR’S THEME. Did you now know that? I’ve been doing that bit for like two weeks and you didn’t think to fucking look it up?” You laugh a little. You buckle up, and extend out your hand. “Give me your phone, you need to listen to it.”

Without hesitation, he passes his phone to you and then he pulls away from the curb slowly. You start the album from the beginning, and you settle back into your seat. You put his phone down in the cup holder and rest your head against the seat belt. It’s a comfortable silence as you both listen. As he drives, he rests his right hand comfortably on your thigh, his thumb making circles.

Anxiety is a tricky thing. As time passes, you begin to feel insecure for monopolizing the music. You start to feel guilty about the jab you made at Igor’s expense for not knowing this album. You begin to overthink everything, and the music playing starts to make you feel overexposed. And you begin to associate his silence with resentment.

“You can change it to whatever you want,” you say apologetically. He looks at you confused from the corner of his eye, only glancing over so he can focus on the road.

“But you like this?” He asks, puzzled.

“I don’t want to force feed stuff to you,” you try to explain, “I didn’t mean to make you sit through it.”

“I think it’s great,” he offers sincerely, “it’s good.”

“You don’t have to say that, just because I like it,” you counter, feeling insecure.

“I like the music,” he reiterates, “I like it, and I like it because it’s something you wanted to share with me.”

“You don’t have to…”

“I love when you share things with me,” he interrupts you before you begin to spiral. “Do it more often,” he says, encouragingly. He stops for the red light, and leans over to kiss you. “Please.”

He turns his attention back to the road as the light turns green and you can’t help but smile as you watch him turn the dial up.

PART TWO

[thefrontmanscockwarmer]

Just Say You Had A Bad Dream

Player 001 x Reader [SMUT] 📸

Masterlist <- Comment on this post to be added to the tag list

Note: you guys know each other from High School.

You woke up a prison room. Not like the guy at the train station advertised AT ALL. Beds lined the walls, with you could only assume 500 people fluttering around, in the same confused state as you. You looked at the giant X and O that marked the floor along with the dividing line. You stretched, muscles tensing as you did.

Some dudes in pink walked in with masked shapes and all of a sudden the room confusion was broken and turned into angry shouting. You saw names and faces on a screen above them, including their debt. You prayed yours wouldn’t show, a cool ₩10.9 million would’ve been embarrassing until you heard a shocking number.

“10 billion won” the room went silent. All looking around for the guy who somehow racked up that much. Silence was quickly broken by him brandishing his debt. You rolled your eyes and laid back down.

Time Skip:

Voting time. After that first game, you were intrigued, wanting to know what else there was to play. The death hadn’t scared you a bit, after all, instructions were clear: move AFTER ‘red light’ and you’re dead. Just like in the real game, you’re out.

“Player 013” your number was called as you walked to go press the O button, regardless of the X’s trying to get you to change your mind. You stood quietly in the back awaiting dinner or bed time, you were hungry and tired. Fuck this you thought, I just wanna eat.

“Player 001” you turned and saw none other than Hwang In Ho. When he joined your vote he joined your group until the pink guys were gone.

He seemed to make friends quickly with another guy, some guy who was screaming earlier during Red Light Green Light. You stood behind him in line for dinner.

“No Fucking way. Hwang In Ho???” You said surprised when he turned his face.

“(Y/n)? What are you doing here?” He looks at you alarmed.

“I’m here to play the game” you say coolly.

“How did you- why- how did you get here?” He asks sternly, pulling you aside.

“Uh same way you did?” You shrug.

“No no no no” he whispers quietly looking around seemingly towards the guards and cameras. “(Y/n), you can’t be here”

“Why not In Ho”

“You can’t call me that either”

You look at him. “Why not?”

“I can’t explain now, but I will eventually. Call me something else.” He looked towards that screaming guy before looking back at you.

“geoboki (turtle)?”

“Seriously, (y/n)?” He deadpans. “You haven’t called me that since high school.” You giggle.

“Well if I can’t call you by your real name, I’ll call you by your nickname, turtle boy” you poke him.

“You know, I really do miss you” he sighs finally. “Look do me a favor, approach me while I’m sitting with those guys later, I’ll make sure you survive” he grabs his food and walks away. Survive? Why would I need him to survive.

Time Skip: Later that Night.

“Come on, dude, I hate to be the one but I have to pee” you say as the pink guy shuts the window. “Fuck this” you say. You hadn’t used the bathroom all day, guess it was too much adrenaline coursing through you before you finally settled down.

“Hey, don’t you hear the lady? She has to pee.” You heard In Hos voice come out from behind you. “Matter of fact, so do I, open up” he bangs on the door. The door soon opened.

“Thanks geoboki” you whisper.

“Listen I need to talk to you” he pulls you into the men’s bathroom and drags you to a stall. “Look, be mad all you want and hate me later but I’m the only chance you’ve got at surviving this shit.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I run them.” He says. “I am the Frontman. They can’t kill me, I am their boss” he searches your face for a clue on what you’re thinking.

“So if I stay with you, I can survive?” He nods. “Okay.” You shrug. “I’m assuming I’m sworn to secrecy?”

“Yes, (y/n)” you nod slowly.

“Can I ask a question?” He raises an eyebrow. “What’re the policies about sex in a bathroom stall?”

“What?”

“We’ve done it once, back in junior year, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember” he smiles faintly as he remembers.

“Just while we’re in here for old times sake” you smile as you press your lips against his. He returns the kiss tilting his head to deepen it further. He sat on the toilet and pulled you onto his lap, you ran your hands through his hair.

“My God, your kisses haven’t changed” he groans before reattaching his lips to yours. He begs entry into your mouth with his tongue, you denied him. You feel him wrap his arms around you and pull you into his erection that’s in the middle of a war with his pants. Pulling a moan from you before pushing his tongue in your mouth.

“Talk about not changing, you pulled the same move on me 15 years later” he chuckles kissing you again. His hand slips into your pants, shoving a finger right into your core. His finger presses on your g-spot, rubbing against it. You feel his thumb tease your clit, having found it by memory. “No, no, I want you” you moan out.

“Then it’s me you’re getting.” He growls, standing up. He pushes his pants down and pulls your down. You kick off your shoes so you can free yourself. He picks you up and slams you against the stall. Dropping you on his angry cock. A guttural groan comes from inside his chest. “Fuck, why are you so tight?”

“Saving myself for you” you joke. He begins pounding into you, burying his face in the crook of your neck, leaving HICKIES on every bare square inch. You moan as he does, raking your fingers through his hair, you reach down into his shirt and dig your claws in.

“Oh god, (y/n), please. I want them to bleed” he groans as he fucks you. He angles and begins hitting your gspot, you nails dragging down his back as he did.

“I’m gonna cum” you groan as he kisses your lips. “Fuck I’m gonna cum”

“Hold it, I’m not done using your pussy yet. It feels too good”

“No no no don’t make me hold it. I can’t hold it” you say erratically. Beginning to lose your grip on reality as your close your eyes and see the entire alignment of the planets behind them.

“I said fucking hold it. I’m close but I’m not done” he growls. He presses his lips to yours again as he starts to moan. You share moans as you both near the climax. “Fuck” he drawls. He thrusts impossibly harder into you. “(Y/n) we’re gonna cum at the same time, I fucking swear. Count down to 5” he says into your neck as he moans.

“5” you say, your voice high and whiny”

“4- fuck I’m gonna come I’m gonna cum” he repeats before making a final thrust into you. You wrap your legs around him to keep them from shaking, feeling the knot inside you finally release, he lets out a few guttural moans as he thrusts slightly and empties himself into your pulsing pussy. You begin to hear your mixed juices hitting the floor in drops as you kiss each other. Heatedly making out yet again, his cock still inside of you. He sits down on the toilet with you on him as you both sigh heavily, your head dazily falling onto his shoulder.

“Holy fuck, I missed you”

“Yeah, I fucking missed you too” he replies pulling hair out of your face.

After getting cleaned up, the pair of you shamefully walk back into the room. Walking to your beds which were by the group of newly found friends were sleeping soundly.

He sat on his bed, gearing up to lay down and sleep the remainder of the night. As you turned to your bed, you felt his hand grip your wrist and pull you into his bed.

“What if they see us cuddled together in the morning” you jokingly as his arms wrapped around you.

“Just say you had a bad dream” he yawns and pulls you into his chest, spooning you. You quickly fall asleep in his arms.

[avcdgrdn]

── .✦ [ FIC ]: can i really stay here? ( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;) 

mullet stanley pines x innkeeper reader

tags: angst, hurt/comfort, sfw

word count: 1426

˙✧˖° ༘ ⋆｡˚

nothing could have prepared you for the man who walked through the front door of the inn that day.

he looked like death, his chocolate hair tangled, his square jaw riddled with bruises and dirt. heavy eyes fixed themselves upon your figure.

"you got a spare room?"

that voice, gravelly and low, betrayed the exhaustion that plagued this mysterious stranger. you couldn't help but stare for a moment, lost in thought.

"i ... ah, yes, of course. just a room for one?"

your hands swiftly moved to ring him up, pressing a few buttons on the cash register. the man visibly reacted to the metallic sounds of the register, an expression of mild panic settling in.

"yeah ..." he dug through his pockets, patting himself over until he secured a grip on his wallet. pulling it out, he flipped it open, revealing nothing but an ID and a few sticks of gum. he clicked his tongue, defeated. "... this is embarrassing."

it was evident that something wasn't right with him; he looked as if he could collapse at any given moment. should you just deny him service and let him leave? what if he just got himself into deeper trouble? was he even in his right mind?

there was a fleeting moment of awkward silence as the two of you avoided eye contact. you took a sharp breath in.

"... tell me, sir, what's your name?"

his bushy brows rose in surprise. "er ... stan. stan pines." stan gave you a once-over, pulling a sly smirk despite his run-down appearance. "why? ya like what you see?"

a sort of scoffing chuckle left your lips. "this isn't really the time for jokes ..." your eyes trailed down to his stained jacket, torn-up jeans, and over worn shoes. at that, he laughed, which quickly turned into a painful cough. the concern became more evident on your face.

"-ah, you're right, of course. nobody would really want a guy like me, yeah?"

you couldn't bring yourself to respond to that. you could see the storm in his eyes.

turning your back to the counter, you picked up a key that was hanging from the wall, holding it out to him as you met his confused gaze.

"room 34. your stay will be on the house tonight, sir."

"... you're pullin' my leg."

"no, i'm perfectly serious."

hesitantly, he reached out his hand to take the key. your fingers brushed against his rough skin briefly before you pulled your arm back.

stan simply stood there, still processing what had just been given to him. he'd tried this before with numerous other places, and they'd all shut him down. he'd been through ... how many, four, five different states by now? finally, a night where he doesn't have to sleep in his car. the notion of spending a night in an actual bed ... seemed unreal.

"well, i ... damn. th-thanks, toots." he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. a faint shade of pink rose to his cheeks, which he attempted to play off by staring at the ground.

how long had it been since anyone had shown him this kind of generosity?

unsure of what to do, he decided to make his way over to his room, locating the staircase and climbing up, stealing a glance back at you. you watched him ascend the stairs, leaning your arms against the counter.

your mind continued to race. the man looked like he'd just been in a fight. did he have wounds that needed treatment? did he have any place to go? ... of course, those were all personal questions that you knew you shouldn't ask about. he is only a customer ... at least you could offer him somewhere to crash for the night.

it had been two hours.

two hours, and yet, you still couldn't get him off your mind.

you figured you might be able to offer him some dinner.

or was that just you trying to come up with an excuse to see him again? you didn't think about it too hard.

making your way over to the kitchen, you had the chef prep a single serving of food, laying it out on a tray which you picked up and began to walk with. the carpeted floor softened the sound of your footsteps.

arriving at the end of the hall, you stood in front of the door labeled "34", hesitating. you steeled your nerves and knocked gently on its wooden surface.

a few moments passed. you could hear the sound of rustling fabric and footsteps as stan made his way over to the door, opening it and observing his visitor. he was dressed in a bathrobe, his hair damp and his face looking much cleaner than before.

"sorry if i came at a bad time. i just figured you might want a bite to eat." you averted your eyes by glancing to the tray of food you held, a faint blush rising to your face.

twinkling lights began to glisten in place of the dark storm you'd seen in him before. his expression softened in disbelief, and he opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

eventually, he spoke.

"why are you doing this?"

"... what do you mean?"

"i mean, you're wastin' your good food 'nd room. you deserve your money-"

he cut himself off, swallowing back a bitter feeling in his throat.

"-i ... i need to ... pay it back."

oh. is he ... crying?

you could feel your heart wrench in your chest. "s-stan. it's okay."

he furiously blinked back tears, taking a deep breath and putting on a weary grin. "will ya keep that food hot for me? i'm just gonna get dressed. i think i'll eat it downstairs."

"oh, of course."

"thanks a bunch." he winked at you, then shut the door, leaving you to stare at the room label again. you blinked, then turned around to head back down.

after some time of waiting in the kitchen, you caught the sight of him descending the staircase and walking over to you. he was wearing a different shirt, although his jacket and jeans were the same. his hair was dry and much poofier now that it was clean. you caught yourself staring at his mullet.

"didja wait for too long?" stan pulled out a stool from the bar, taking a seat and watching as you put his plate of food in front of him.

"nah, you're okay." you offered a small smile. "feel free to dig in."

and boy, did he dig in. this man hasn't had a proper meal in forever. his daily diet has consisted of strictly rationed cheap snacks and the occasional stolen burger and fries. you swore you've never seen a guy so happy to eat something before in your life. somehow, watching him was making you feel warm inside.

"this ... is the best food i ever tasted." stan mumbled, looking up at you in between bites. all sorts of different emotions were raging inside of him, and the feeling of being properly nourished was bringing them up to the surface. his brown eyes began to overflow with tears, and he cursed underneath his breath, eating more aggressively to try and distract himself.

"uh, stan? are you alright?"

that was the last straw. his brows knit together and he swallowed his food, dropping his fork onto the plate. the tears were flowing freely now.

"no. dammit, i'm not alright."

stan covered his face with one arm, his broad frame trembling as he choked back bitter sobs.

"it's just that ... m-my parents, and i ... s-see- and my brother-"

he hunched over, shifting to cover his face with both hands. everything was crashing down.

"oh, God, my brother ..."

you walked out from behind the bar, making your way over to where he sat and taking the seat next to him. you didn't really think at all, you just slid your arm around his back and-

the instant he felt your touch, stanley clung onto you desperately.

onto somebody who was showing him hospitality. onto somebody who cared enough to worry about his health. onto somebody unlike anybody else he'd met these past few years.

burying his face into your shoulder, he pulled you closer against him.

"'m sorry ... don't leave me alone."

the wetness of his tears soaked into your shirt, but you didn't mind. here in your arms was a little boy who just needed a hug.

you barely knew each other, but you had a feeling that was going to change.

"don't worry, i'm not going anywhere."

end

[ part two ]

[steddieas-shegoes]

spiderman kiss

for @steddieholidaydrabbles pop-up event for Valentine's Day

rated t | 896 words | no cw | tags: fake dating au, fake wedding date, strangers to lovers, fast burn of the century, getting together, first kiss, modern au

🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️

“I cannot believe you fell for this guy,” Robin hisses through her teeth as she gestures to Eddie, who is doing his best impression of a bat by hanging upside down from a tree branch. “You were supposed to bring him to the wedding, not want to marry him.”

“Woah. I said I liked him, not that I wanted to marry him,” Steve whispers.

“For you, that’s basically the same thing.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but she’s right. He may not fall for people often, but when he does, it’s all or nothing. Head over heels. Madly, deeply in love.

Eddie was supposed to be his date for this wedding to appease all the kids, to get them to just shut up already about how single he is and how miserable he is when he comes to events alone. He’s Dustin’s friend, apparently someone just as miserably single as Steve.

He’s weird. Steve likes weird.

He’s loud. Steve likes…his loud.

He’s exciting. Steve needs excitement.

He’s also hot. In a metalhead who didn’t get the memo that the 80s are over, wore jeans and a button-up to a formal event, played air guitar in his seat during the bridal march kind of way.

“He’s fun,” Steve settles on, shrugging. “Aren’t you the one who said I need more fun in my life?”

“I meant, like, a new hobby!”

“He could be my new hobby.”

“Ew,” Robin groans. “Okay. Alright, fine. You wanna be involved with him, be my guest. Dustin says he’s never once seen him in a committed relationship.”

Steve knows. They spent most of yesterday together talking, getting to know each other, making sure they could pass as boyfriends and not people who just met. Steve didn’t care about being single at a wedding, but apparently all of his friends had told Dustin’s mom they were dating behind their backs and now-

“Stevie!” Eddie yells when he notices him talking to Robin at the table. “We could Spiderman kiss!”

Steve glances at Robin, who rolls her eyes and throws her hands up. “Oh my god, just go.”

He stands and walks over to Eddie, who is hanging much lower than he should be for a proper Spiderman kiss. He’s grinning, and his hair has started to fall from its messy bun. Steve cannot believe he’s doing this.

He stands with his hands on his hips, smirking at Eddie trying to hold himself up higher, but not having the strength to do it.

“It would be a lot easier to kiss you if you got down,” Steve says.

Everyone goes silent.

Because everyone who is standing by Eddie– Max, Dustin, Will, and Mike– are all very aware that this was nothing more than a fake date for the wedding. Steve doesn’t need to kiss Eddie when no one is watching; He doesn’t need to kiss even when someone is watching.

Eddie stops trying to lift himself, eyes widening as Steve takes another step closer.

“You’d have to be on that branch to pull it off,” Steve says as he points at the branch about two feet above the one he’s currently on. “Unless I get on my knees.”

Everyone pretends they don’t hear the strangled noise that escapes Eddie.

“You’d get dirty, though. Those are nice pants,” Eddie says, still upside down, face bright red from embarrassment and blood rushing to his head.

“They are,” Steve agrees, laughing as he squats so he’s barely higher than Eddie’s face. “But I have to dry clean them anyway. Might as well get what I’m paying for.”

Steve places his hand on the back of Eddie’s neck and leans in, brushing their lips together softly. It’s awkward because Eddie’s upside down and Steve has no idea how they made it looks so hot in the movie, but-

“This is a turn of events I did not see coming!” Dustin’s new wife, Suzie, claps. “You were so right, Dusty Buns. They’re perfect for each other.”

Steve does what he does best and ignores them, focusing on Eddie, who looks unstable now.

“Do you need help getting down?” Steve asks.

Eddie nods, and Steve moves as quickly as he can to help get him upright so he can climb down. He’s surprised Dustin agreed to an outdoor wedding in the spring with his allergies, but Suzie insisted on having fresh flowers everywhere and would not accept store bought. He’s even more surprised that Eddie, who admitted to having seasonal allergies while they talked at dinner last night, is hanging in trees.

When Eddie’s back on the ground, Steve kisses him for real. A hard press to his lips, tongue brushing against him, teasing.

“Did you climb a tree for attention?” Steve asks him when he pulls away.

“It worked. I can’t be blamed for doing something drastic for you to kiss me.”

“You could’ve just kissed me,” Steve laughs.

Eddie does.

“Still fake? Or can we admit that there’s way more chemistry here than we expected there to be and kiss some more?” He asks.

“I regret doing this. I regret it so much,” Dustin groans as he walks away.

Steve rolls his eyes. “He doesn’t. He’s gonna go do his happy dance where we can’t see him.”

“He has a happy dance?” Eddie asks, smile growing as he leans into Steve’s side.

“Yeah, it’s embarrassing. Let’s go watch.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Captain's Orders 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, controlling behaviour, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The Captain takes it upon himself to change your life.

Characters: Steve Rogers

Note: Ugh, here we go.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Steve, Captain, First Avenger, whatever you should call him, follows you down the stairs. You're overly aware of his presence. You're confused by it.

You got in one argument on the internet and now he's here? What the heck is wasting his time online for? Doesn't he have a life? He did tell you to get one after all.

"I got it," he dips around you as you get to the bottom. He pulls back the fire door and you eye him warily as you step through. Once more, he's on your heels. He gets the front door too.

You cross your arms as you come out into the sunlight. He shades his eyes with his hands and sighs, "nice day, isn't it?"

You roll your tongue around before you answer, "yep."

"I saw a shop around here--"

"It's expensive," you say.

"I said I'd treat you--"

"Why?" You turn on him and stop in the middle of the sidewalk. You cringe and seal your lips. You steady yourself. "Sorry, I'm not trying to be rude. I got your message loud and clear. You didn't need to come and make sure. Is that why you came?"

"I will explain. Smoothies first." He insists.

You huff, "I know who you are but this is still kinda scary. How did you even find me?"

"You know who I am," he shrugs. Your chest swims with nerves. You nod and turn down the pavement.

"What'd you eat today? You should try some Vitamin C in the smoothie. Get a protein booster." He offers.

You're slightly irked by his advice, mostly the assumptions behind it. You wet your lips and bite back on your retort. You are not a combative person. You never have been. He was right on that front. You settle for a lot of nonsense.

You notice the stray glances in your direction. Not yours, his. People stare at him like fawns, wide-eyed and frozen in place.

"So, what did you have for breakfast?"

"Steve-- Captain-- What would you prefer?"

"We'll get to that too," he says smugly. His answer unsettles you further. He's so certain and you are entirely lost. Not to mention, embarrassed.

"It doesn't really matter what I ate," you say.

He points you ahead of him, down the walkway to the shop door. He once more opens it and sees you through. You enter and look around. The amount of booty-lifting leggings and bulging biceps has you shrinking down.

You stare up at the menu and try to piece together how to order. You get a base and a boost and then there's all these bobas and vitamins? This is too complicated.

"You have any recommendations?" You ask. Maybe that will appease him.

"Sure, I'll get you my usual. You wanna find a table?"

"Can do," you mumble and walk away.

You sit in the corner and cradle your chin in your hand. You tap your lip and blow a soft raspberry. There's a woman staring at you from her group of friends. Her assumptions would be kinder than Steve's. He's here to lecture you in person, not take you on a date.

He sits across from you and sets down a cup filled to the brim with sickly green. You shouldn't complain. You're not exactly eating gourmet. You thank him and reach for it. He stretches his hand over the top.

"You shouldn't put your elbows on the table. It's rude." He reproaches.

Your frown then sit up, dragging your arm off the table. You can't make yourself apologise. He so easily picks out your every flaw.

"You gonna try it?" He watches you.

You hesitate but bring the straw to your mouth. You sip and your cheeks pinch. It's bitter yet tangy. How?

"Mm, good," you lie."

"You get used to it," he says.

"Can I please know why I came home to you in my apartment?"

He grins and looks down. He pokes his tongue into his cheek.

"You don't get out much," he lifts his eyes.

"Yeah, you were right about that," you squirm and put the cup down. You clasp your hands in your lap.

"How old are you?"

You chew your cheek before you answer, "twenty-three."

"Mhmm, and you don't have any schooling? Not formal?" He wonders.

You put your eyes down, "no. Can't afford it."

"Huh, from what I gather, lots of students work their way through these days."

Your heart sinks.

"Couldn't get accepted either," you mumble. "That's my own doing. So no need to say it out loud."

Your shoulders slump and your eyes glaze. This is humiliating. It's like having lunch with your mom. Not that she ever did much better. Still, she picks you apart like a chicken leg.

"You should sit up. Bad posture won't feel good as you get closer to thirty," he girds.

You suck in a deep breath and sit straight. You scowl at him, "I got your point, alright? I already feel terrible. Is that what you want to hear?"

"No," he tilts his head. "I want you to try. I want you to do better."

"What does it matter to you? You don't know me."

"It matters to me because I can make you better," he says. "You said you don't get opportunities. That everyone else has everything handed to them, so my hand is open. I'm giving you what you're looking for."

"Huh?" You shake your head gently and furrow your brow.

"No rent, no work, none of that."

You blink and cross your arms. What is he talking about?

"Here's the deal. You get a free ride and all you have to do is follow my rules. I promise you, everything will be better. No manager, no loud sister, no bills."

You narrow your eyes, "and what do I have to do?"

"I said as much, live by my rules."

"Oh," you purse your lips.

You have this rotting feeling in your gut. He's not saying something. There's no reason for him to do this. Over one little spat on a forum.

"Is this how you save people, Cap?"

"I prefer Captain," he spreads his shoulders wide.

"Right. Captain. What if I can't live by your rules? You think I'm lazy--"

"Unmotivated. Complacent. Apathetic. Not lazy," he corrects you.

"Sure, but why... me?"

His eyes twinkle thoughtfully. They are very blue. You were so focused on yourself, you didn't notice... him. He's forged like a statue. His eyes are bright, his features made even more handsome by his beard and his grown out hair. And you are in your work uniform. A mess.

"Chance, I guess." He shrugs. "I mean, think about it, what else do you got going for you?"

You stare at the table then turn your sights through the window. You issue a soft sigh. You put your elbow on the table and he tisks. You quickly pull it back and wiggle your foot anxiously.

He's not wrong. You have absolutely nothing. You don't see yourself getting too much further than minimum wage and a shit apartment. You are being handed this, are you going to turn away what you always envied? An easy out.

"What does it... mean? What happens if I agree? What are the rules?" Your questions bubble out.

He combs his thick fingers through his hair, "the rules you'll learn. First, you're coming back to New York, so I can supervise you. Then, we start. You get into a regimen; exercise, clean eating, routine."

You flutter your lashes. This is absurd. You scoff.

"You're joking. You're mocking me. You're--" you cover your face, "I get it now. I almost fell for it."

"No," he reaches across and pulls your hands down. You flinch at the warmth of his touch, the roughness of his skin. "I'm not. Look."

He retracts his hold on you and you fold your hands over your chest. He reaches into his jacket pocket and slides out two cards. He lays down the thick paper.

"I have two return tickets. For me and you. Tomorrow at noon."

"Tomorrow-- huh?" Your eyes round.

"I'm serious. You better get serious too. You'll be twenty-four soon. Then twenty-five. It's not too far before thirty comes knocking," he taps the tickets.

You're not like him. You're not going to stay young. You're not amped up on super goo. You're only human.

"Or you can do what you always do. Nothing, then blame everyone else."

It's like a slap in the face. Shame and anger. Hurt. Doubt. He's right, it's time to grow up. This isn't an opportunity you get very often. In fact, you don't think many others have been given the same chance. For once, you won the lottery.

"I'll try it." You say.

"No try. You commit," he retorts.

"Alright, I'll... do it."

"You'll do it, Captain," he corrects you.

Your insides wriggle at that. You ignore it.

"I'll do it, Captain."

⭐

Static scratches in your ears and skull as you enter the apartment. Alone. Stunned. As if a mine exploded in your face. In a way, it sort of did. Your online griping finally caught up to you. That and your real-life failure.

Shea is in the living room. She gets up on her knees and smirks at you. "Aw, where is he?"

"Who?" You blink, not processing her question.

"Captain America, duh," she scoffs. "Come on, you really sent him away?"

"He's... busy." You go to your bedroom door and the couch lurches with her weight.

"Hey, you can't just not tell me why he showed up. You didn't say anything about knowing Steve fucking Rogers."

"I didn't?" You open your door and she follows you into your room. You face her and block her from going further. "Shea, please, I need to be alone."

"Why? You're always alone. It's why I'm so surprised you have hunky blond heroes showing up for you. Taking you out for a smoothie," she taunts.

She was listening. He was right to go somewhere else.

"It wasn't... like that. Look. I'm..." you back away and sit on the foot of your bed. You're dizzy. You really said yes. You're entirely sure to what. He kept it all a bit too vague. "I'm moving out."

"What? Why? But--"

"Yeah, er, yeah," you stutter as you build a lie in your mind, "he was here about a job. Long shot. I forgot I even applied."

"Wait? You're going to work with the Avengers? Doing what?"

You look at her, "paperwork."

"Paperwork?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Wait. How am I supposed to find a new roommate? When are you leaving?"

You rub your cheeks and stretch them as you drag your fingers down, "tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?!" She shrieks.

"Yeah, it's... they move fast."

"All the way to New York?" She blusters.

"Please, Shea, I need time to think."

"Yeah, me too!"

"I'll figure out rent for you. I don't know," you hold your head in your hands.

"Well, you don't seem very excited," she snorts.

"Shea!" You sit up with a snarl. "Stop. Alright! I need you to get out so I can pack."

"Don't yell at me--"

"I'm not..." you lower your voice, "yelling. I'm... trying to figure this out so please. Later."

She rolls her eyes and stomps out. "Donna!" She hollers and you get up to close the door behind her.

You stomp back to your bed and take out your phone. You almost can't remember work or all the BS there. You swipe through the search results and tap on the first that isn't sponsored: National Museum, Virtual Exhibit. You're brought to a page with a familiar face. Steve, with no beard and shorter, lighter hair. The infamous war hero.

You flip through, reading about his history, chewing your thumb. You stop at the part about the serum; 'This enhancement gifted Rogers with superstrength, heightened sight and hearing, improved resilience, and quick healing, among other capabilities.'

You rock nervously. That's a bit intimidating. You're not that stupid. You know he's a strong guy, almost invincible by the news stories, but you just never paid that much attention. Never thought of it. He protects people, right? But what damage could he do if he wanted to hurt someone?

Your phone vibrates. You flinch at the sight of his name. He made you take his number before you left the shop.

'I'll pick you up at 10. Wiil need to check-in for flight early.'

You send back a thumbs up. He's quick to reply.

'Is that a yes?'

You huff.

'Yes, Captain', you key in.

[blubunz]

OMG THAT LAST FIC OF HYBRID PUPPY LEON JSJDF except with R4r hybrid Leon and with reversed roles where even though he is usually a big and dominant dog he is actually a whiny bitch who wants his lady owner to do whatever she wants with him :((

(But he's too stubborn to admit it out loud because he's not a puppy anymore, he's supposed to be a big boy who needs pampering lol.)

I LOVE THIS OHMYGAHAVAJGAHAHAHEJEK tweaking rolling jumping running I LOVE THIS😭 this can be seen as a banger sequel to the other one :D or you can separate it completely like either ways are so good !!

《MINORS DNI!》

Tags: sub! puppy hybrid! leon x fem! reader, dry humping, dacryphilia, oral (m! receiving), edging, riding.

You remember it like yesterday: how Leon used to be so energetic and cute. He still is, but the Leon back then was an adorable pup you've gotten for yourself, behaving like a playful and cheerful dog, he was so full of life and confidently innocent.

Now, he's more reserved, those bright eyes are a bit dimmed, and he looks more serious due to his job. He feels responsible now after he'd grown, simply thinking it's a duty to give his owner what you used to give him — protection and care.

Every time you two go out, he'd always take the initiative, opening doors, holding your hand to guide you through the crowd, or even walking slightly faster so he could protect you by shielding you.

But you know otherwise, his tail doesn't lie.

When you stroke his cheeks or pat his hair, even though his face remains stern, you can see his pupils blown a bit wider and his tail is wagging very fast, like he's asking for more.

“Do you like this?” You ask, in which he blushes and just huffs.

“I'm not complaining.” He mutters, crossing his arms and puffing his chest out. He tilts his head at you, trying to assert dominance.

You hide your laugh with a tamed smile, shrugging.

“If you say so, I'll stop touching you from now on—”

“I didn't say that.” He quickly cuts you off, his tail wagging low. “Don't twist my words into something else.”

“Okay, fine. What do you want then?” You smirk, getting him all speechless. The words stuck in his throat, he's embarrassed. He isn't that same old Leon anymore. Sometimes, he's even a bit self-conscious about it. That's why he changed.

Seeing how flustered he is, you decide to drop it for now, settling for a good night sleep. He watches you go to your room, his eyebrows somehow furrow even more as he squints at you.

Leon settles in, too, going back to his sleeping area and plops down, thinking about you. How your hand pushes back his hair, how you always praise him when he does something nice to you like carrying your groceries or some sort, or how you're so insistent on treating him like a baby even if he's obviously not!

Well, maybe he yearn for something like that. But he won't tell you, not admittedly, in a million years.

...

He misses your touch already.

It's barely even past midnight, he's opening the door to your bedroom, telling himself to check on you. Yeah, just check on you, that's his job anyway – to protect you from harm.

He stands next to your bed, seeing you sleeping peacefully while emitting a slight snoring sound, you seem exhausted. Maybe he shouldn't wake you up just yet, well, he has no reason to! He obviously will not ask to sleep with you tonight.

He sits on the bed, just looking at you for a moment, appreciating your beauty. He can see some of the flaws that you have expressed insecurities before, always complaining how it ruins the vibe you're trying to get or how you don't look as good as those girls online. Even with just lights from the lamp and the moonlight, he can still see how beautiful you are. That makes Leon a bit upset, don't you know how pretty you are? He always has to try his best to hide his flustered face when you look his way.

Anyways, he's getting off track.

Leon is considering sleeping close to you tonight, he just has a hunch you'd be in danger if he's not in the same room.

He climbs to your bed and instantly hugs you close, shuddering at how you're so warm and smells so good. He sniffs your hair continously, a sleeping pill lulling him to slumber.

You have to piss.

Waking up, you instantly feel two strong arms wrapping around you. Though sleepy eyes, you look up to see Leon sleeping, face nuzzling against your neck.

No time for question though, you need the toilet first.

You lift his heavy arms off, or at least enough to wriggle out, and quickly leaves to head down the hall.

Leon instantly wakes up right after your warmth disappears, he sits up, panicking, ears stand straight as he blinks and looks around. As quick as it came, it goes when he hears the toilet flushed.

You walk in, ready to sleep. You didn't really mind if Leon sleeps next to you tonight, honestly.

The moment you walk in, he lunges towards you, sniffing you everywhere and kissing your neck. He's being strangely needy, you were gone not even half an hour, just a quick toilet break.

“Leon?” You look up, then look down, seeing his tail wag again. God, he's cute.

“You could have told me you were gone to the bathroom.”

You almost laugh. “I'd ask you to do the same when you go sleep on my bed.”

He doesn't answer, clearly your counter works. He sighs, letting you go.

“Just...I was just checking up on you. You might be gone and I don't want that.”

“I don't think anyone would want me enough to kidnap me.” You joke.

Leon would.

His frustrated face is evident and you can clearly see it, you can't just ignore his efforts like that! Moreso, he's done a lot to prove that he cares, just not with words.

Seeing his expression, you pull him closer and press a small kiss on his cheek — that makes Leon crumble almost instantly. He deliberately puts his knee next to you, dipping down the mattress. You pull him closer, kissing on the tip of his nose.

“I was only joking.” You say. “I know you think I'm special.”

Kissing down his neck, Leon holds back a whine, but you can feel his tail wagging so fast, thumping on your knee. You scratch behind his ear, slowly trailing your kisses down to his chest.

A deep rumble escapes from his chest up to his throat, Leon bites his lip, he grips your shoulders tight.

Your free hand comes up to stroke his thigh, thick and big, enough to crush a man's neck, but now it's so soft under your touch, like he's no longer a weapon, just your good puppy Leon.

“Relax, Leon.” You coo, pressing your lips up to his. He moans instantly, and his body leans onto yours as he tries to clutch on whatever to hold his ground.

Your lips are a bit dry, but he doesn't complain, only sticking his tongue out to try and lap up your drool. You hold his cheeks tight, puckering his lips as you take back control, the hand that's been on his thigh now moving to the center, thumb swiping up and down on his clothed length.

That gets a longer whine from him. He's drooling so much, too. The kiss is sloppy. It certainly shows just how much of a mess he is for you, slobbering all over your mouth and moaning like that.

His hips move, rutting against your palm like a desperate dance.

“Don't be so hasty.” You murmur against his lips, grabbing his cock fully through his pants. His tail swishing back and forth, the movement going quicker when you build up the excitement.

“Can't help it.” He grunts out, swallowing his moans. Seeing him trying to regain control, a small hint of dominance is enough to make you laugh and roll your eyes. His attempts are pathetic as ever.

His eyes sharp and stern, but you can see them shaking, occasionally looking here and there all over your face, seeking something.

“You do as I say, Leon. I have been caring for you since forever.” You say, and that seems to have him relax on your body. His gaze softens, his vulnerability visible with how he's nuzzling your neck.

“Just...do what you want.” He grumbles, acting like he doesn't care, but he does. You huff out a laugh, getting him on his back on your bed.

“With pleasure.”

Getting him crying and shuddering under you is much easier than you thought. His hands gripping the sheets so hard it might get pulled off the mattress. His cock standing tall, dripping pre cum down to a puddle as you bob your head up and down on it.

He cries, hips bucking as he relishes in the power you hold over him. The way you keep your eyes on his face, he doesn't dare look back, but a snap of your fingers has his head hung low, teary eyes staring into yours.

He hasn't spoken a word, only whines and moans with cries echoing off the walls. He's still too shy to admit or beg for you, but his shaky body tells enough story as it is.

Dragging your lips up to the tip, you poke your tongue between the slit, nudging it and lightly pushing it in. He jolts, a loud, broken cry emits from his throat. Yet, his moving tail tells you that he's enjoying this as much as you do.

You keep on touring the red tip, beading with pre cum. Pressing sloppy kisses and lightly penetrating his urethra with your tongue, it heightens his sensitivity.

“Just say the word, puppy, and I'll let you cum.” You say, teasing him by licking his shaft. Small kitten licks are the worst, he feels so close yet it's not enough to make him reach his climax.

He stubbornly refuses, only pants and whines incoherently.

“Come on, Leon.”

His breath hitches, biting the inside of his cheek when you look up at him, eyes intense and demanding. He ushers out a small: “P-Please...suck...uh...”

You squeeze his shaft, and he jolts, crying more with his words come out louder yet gibberish and incoherent. Your laughter ringing in his ears, looking away in shame. He tries to push you off, thinking you might not enjoy this humiliated display of him. But you stop him, kissing his knuckles before going down his cock balls deep in your mouth.

He gasps, tightens his hold on your hand as he bucks his hips, moaning in a broken, high-pitched cry as he stutters out plea. They're incoherent as usual, so you just go on casually, choking on his length and licking around his shaft.

He groans, his grip on you is almost crushing, but you know he wouldn't actually do that.

You keep bobbing your head on his cock, batting your eyelashes up at him and pulling out just when he's on the brink of shattering.

“Don't whine like that, pup. I'm giving you what you want.” You shush him, pulling down your garment to reveal your cunt. The arousing smell hits his nose instantly, having him drooling literally down his chin. His eyes laser-focused on it, sparkling with excitement when you climb on his lap.

His tail wags, a needy whine escapes when you rub your wet pussy against his length.

“Want me to ride you?” Yes. Until he's drained and drop dead please don't ever stop—

“Mhm!”

You giggle at his reaction, sitting down on his cock easily due to how slippery your cunt is. His head tilts back, jaw hanging open. Seems like his tail just moves faster, his hips stuttering up to you.

“Great, I'll ride you all night long.”

[tweedlydumbtweedlydoo]

Glasses | Spencer Reid x reader

Summary: Spencer shows up in new glasses and it awakens some new feelings for your fellow BAU agent. 

A/N: I wrote this a month ago procrastinating studying for my exam 4 on Tuesday after I saw this GIF and finally finished it tonight. so here it is - hope you enjoy! this is NOT proofread. Sorry for any mistakes.  

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx

Go follow my fic rec blog! ---> @imaginationgonewild0912

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********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS

**Aye Warning: this is PG 13 - little raunchy at the end * 

You and your fellow agents sat around the round table in the conference room. A new case had come to light, JJ gathering you all before you even had time to sit down at your desk. Fresh coffee sat in front of you and just the smell brought comfort. You glanced around the table, missing one of your agents. Spencer. Usually he beat you to work every morning, reprimanding and teasing you about it. 

“If you’d drink the coffee here instead of stopping every morning on your way to work, you’d actually be on time and beat me here.” Spencer teases following you through the glass double doors. He was in his usual work attire - slacks and a button up. His hair a curly mess. His messenger bag hung over his shoulder. 

You turned around to face him, walking backwards a few steps and made a face, mocking him, “I’m not drinking that tap water you all call coffee.” You saluted your coffee cup toward him, “I will always be late for a nice, fresh cup of coffee.” 

“Where’s Spencer?” You asked, sipping on your coffee and flipping open the case file JJ tossed in front of you. 

She took a moment to glance around the room, perplexed Spencer wasn’t here yet. “I actually don’t know.” She peeked out the window overlooking the rest of the office, “Usually he beats you here.”

JJ went on with the meeting, turning on the TV screen to show pictures of the crime scene and now the next missing and possible victim. 

“Sorry I’m late-” Spencer says, out of breath as he enters the room in a rush. “I had an appointment and it ran later than expected -” He tosses his bag on the ground with a thud, sitting down and oblivious to the surprised looks from his fellow agents. 

Glasses. Spencer was wearing glasses. Your jaw dropped at this new sight, the pen you were chewing on, hanging against your lips. You wouldn’t disagree, Spencer Reid was a very attractive man. I mean you’d admitted that multiple times, but he was also your coworker. A relationship with a coworker could create a rocky atmosphere for the BAU.

He always been an eye candy to look at, however, this new look tossed you over the edge, changing something inside you. You needed him. His touch, his lips against yours. You were overwhelmed with such affection and adoration. Where was this coming from? Immediately your mind went dirty, your face flushed with embarrassment at having those thoughts, scared someone else could hear them. 

Spencer met your eyes from across the table, a new twinkle in his eye, “What did I miss?” He’d noticed the effect he had on you, he could read you like a book. 

You couldn’t even look him the eye. God what was this man doing to you. A wave of warmth was felt through your body; spreading to your core as new fantasies come to light. A dark mahogany desk... Spencer in a button up, loosening the tie around his neck. Oh god. You sat up quickly as if you were just touched by a hot poker and composed yourself, “JJ was just telling us about the last victims who were found-” Your eyes pleadingly glanced at JJ and the screen behind her. 

“Right anyways-” 

~ 

Everyone had settled into their seats on the jet and you stood, slipping behind the curtain to grab a water bottle from the mini fridge. When you stood back up, you were met with Spencer’s chest, “Shit--Spencer.” 

“Did I scare you?” He smiles in triumph, “You’re so jumpy.” He tilted his head as he observed the change in you. 

You stepped out of the way as Spencer reached for mini fridge, fumbling for an excuse. “Watched a scary movie last night.” 

He hums in response turning to face you, the small countertop digging into your back as you tried to put enough space between you and Spencer. “Which movie?” He glances back over his shoulder, checking the curtain is closed. 

You glanced around him as well, wondering what he was looking for, but finally meeting his eyes, “oh you know.. I think it was scream?” 

He closes the space between the two of you, slipping his hands behind you and  placing them firmly on the countertop behind you. 

“Spencer!” A quiet gasp escaped your lips as his body pressed against yours. 

“Shhh...” He places his index against your lips as he leans in close, the smell of his aftershave and minty breath hitting you in a wave. His breath is hot against your neck as his lips dance along your neck. 

Your entire body submits to his touch. oh god. 

“Wouldn’t want them to know what we’ve been up to these last couple months, now would we?” 

Comments, likes and reblogs are always greatly appreciated! x 

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Criminal Minds tag list: @thelovelydreamer17​ , @la-vie-en-amour1 , @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 , @astra-inclinant-sed-non-obligant (possibly: @astra-x-inclinant)  , @bluerose512 , @lolychu​ , @varsityalthete

All my works tag list:  @blossomreed​ , @mggstyles  , @simonsbluee​ , @thewolf-and-thesheep , @obxrafe , @abbiesthings , @itstaskeen​ , @reniescarlett​

[throwawayhero]

could you give more hcs or a drabble about bakugou with a crush on reader!! pls i feel like ur fics are the closest ive seen to canon... i need more

No problem, and thanks! I try to make them seem canon, but sometimes it's difficult T-T. Just realising now that a few of these sound stalker-y and I'm sorta regretting writing this but oh well. I hope this is satisfactory!! c/w; social media au, buzzfeed, eminem (idek), karaoke, not proof read

!Katsuki who unintentionally catches himself playing with his hair while talking to you. Not in an obvious way (that's what he thinks at least), but more so absentmindedly fiddling with his side burns and such. It's kinda funny when he accidentally curls them and leaves them like that for a while. He also has a habit of playing with his baby hairs on the back of his neck.

!Katsuki who "accidentally" managed to copy your handwriting style down stroke for stroke? He doesn't really know how it happened, to be honest. He just noticed it one day during a group project after Jirou pointed it out to the two of you. You found it funny, but he found it outrageous and claimed that you had been the one to copy his handwriting.

!Katsuki who allowed you to tag along on one of Kirishima's and his study sessions. He beat the shit out of Eijirou and was gentle with you, more or less. He wouldn't hit you of course, but he certainly wasn't scared to yell. At least the first time. The look you gave him made him writhe with guilt, so he shut the fuck up out of embarrassment.

!Katsuki who heard you talking about a band you loved and decided it was his god given right to go through their whole discography and criticise it in his own time. But turns out, you have good taste, so he keeps to himself about it. "Accidentally" bought a spare ticket to their next concert and offered the spot to you. No big deal, right?

!Katsuki who did extensive searching for your socials, scrolling through his friends friends following, mutuals, and genuinely just word of mouth. When he did find your accounts, he stalked the SHIT out of them. When you requested to follow him, he freaked out and accepted straight away. He didn't follow you back until a week later, "just to be safe".

!Katsuki who unironically took one of those "Do I have a crush on my friend?" quizzes when he started to feel things towards you. 100% went down a rabbit hole on buzzfeed. He wanted to call his "crush" ANYTHING other than what it was. Mentioned it to Kirishima once and was left even ore confused than what he had originally been.

Unrelated but he just looks like he would listen to Eminem. Probably gets a good chuckle out of the whole "You gonna cancel me, yeah? Gen Z me brah?!" thing. Don't ask me to explain why I think this, it just makes sense.

!Katsuki who more often than not is watching you out of the corner of his eye. Not in an overly-creepy way, he's just "aware of his surroundings". He says that to anyone that mentions it, which is literally just his paranoia.

!Katsuki who secretly loved the fact that you hung out with him and his friends almost daily. Because then he wouldn't have to initiate hangouts and look as desperate as he really was. It gave him a plausible excuse to absorb every single opinion you uttered. It gave him an excuse to get even closer to you.

!Katsuki who freaked the FUCK out when everyone (besides the two of you) got sick and couldn't do the bi-weekly hangout everyone had played a part in organising. The group had settled on doing karaoke, so you can imagine how it went down with just the two of you there. Although, the two of you did make an amazing duet. (No one was really sick, Mina just mentioned Katsuki's behaviour and put 2 and 2 together. She also wanted to see if he would take initiative for once.)

!Katsuki who went out of his way to make changes to his hero costume that he knew you would like. Small details here and there, for both style and practicality. While it was cold he would use the neck warmer to hide the smirk that creeped onto his face when he saw you checking out his new look. He also started to make himself look nicer in general, indulging in a bit of jewellery (stud earrings, a ring or two, and a silver necklace), nicer shoes, wearing the uniform properly and such.

!Katsuki who has your number pinned in his contacts, as well as giving you your own message & ring tone sound. He has everyone but you, Kirishima, and his parents on silenced. He also has your contact saved as a nickname he assigned you without you knowing with a heart emoji. It's simple, but endearing.

[mactavishsgfandwife]

Dad!Simon Taking Your Daughter to the Optician’s (Fluff)

another random one but OMG imagine your daughter had needed those adorable baby glasses and simon took her to the optician to buy a pair 😭 like awwwwweewwwwwwwwe purest domestic fluff ever, not proofread

He pulls her tiny, pink raincoat off of the coat hangers by the door, along with his own black bomber jacket that he holds under one arm, and he tenderly leans down to zip up her little jacket - the one with cutesy rubber ducks embroidered at the cuffs. Most people wouldn’t immediately assume them to be father and daughter. This huge, intimidating military man with sunglasses on in early Spring to hide his eyes and a small silver dog tag dangling down around his neck, dwarfed by his broad shoulders - and reaching her hand up to hold his, babbling something unintelligible about rocks, a little girl. Her hair was carefully tied into bunches - Simon had tried to do it himself but he somehow managed to miss out half of her hair, so he lifted her up over his shoulder as if he were a firefighter and went to find you.

"Y’married a soldier, not a hairdresser," he grinned, a little bit embarrassed.

At the optician’s, he guides his little girl around the room, inspecting the shelves of different glasses. He holds her soft, little hand in his big, tough one. For a moment, he is distracted by some informational poster on the wall, but a sudden exasperated gasp from the 3 year old at his feet pulls him back to reality right away. Looking down, he sees her chubby hands holding a pair of adult sunglasses to her eyes, a big grin on her face.

"Glasses! Want glasses, daddy!" she giggles, the specs falling wonky on her little button nose. Simon laughs softly, crouching down to get closer to his baby, his elbows resting on the denim of his jeans.

"You can have glasses, love… but those are too big for a littl’un like you," he leans in to kiss her soft forehead, and tries to place the sunglasses back, as her little fingers paw at them.

"What about these ones..?" he smiles, holding out a little pair of pink glasses, purple at the edges, with sweet little stars along the sides. That smile on his face is met by her exaggerated, pleading eyes and her little sad pout, still trying to reach her hands out to the sunglasses that her daddy had meanly placed on a high shelf. :(

Simon finally settles on buying the sunglasses ‘for himself’, rolling his eyes with a small chuckle as he helps fit those cute, purple glasses to his little girl’s face, turning her to look at herself in the mirror of the shop.

"Ahh!" she lets out a little, excited squeal, "I love it, Daddy!"

"You look so pretty, little girl," he smiles protectively, trying not to laugh as he sees her chubby, grinning face looking up at him behind those glasses that make her eyes seem twice as big as normal.

Her little mary-jane shoes run in circles around the shop, as she lets out little squeaks of joy and mumbles to herself - in the end, it takes your husband a whole 10 minutes to convince her to take them off so that he can buy them, and on the walk home she does her best to speed ahead of him (not that he would ever actually allow her out of his sight), shouting, "Faster, Daddy!", alternating between running away from him and walking slow at his side, panting from the running until he caved and carried her. She was just so excited and couldn’t wait to go home and show Mummy. <3

And she looks so cute when she excitedly rushes into the kitchen, screwing up her face and giggling as she tells you all about her new glasses, Simon leaning against the doorframe in the background and chuckling softly as he watches, unable to hide how much he loves his little family.

i love him so much i’m crying tears thanks for reading lovelies! x

[yuki-world]

那维莱特 | NEUVILLETTE ; LEARN

summary | neuvillette finally shows you what an orgasm feels like with his tongue, too bad you want it with something else of his.

tags | nsfw (smut), fem!reader, slight corruption, loss of virginity, cunnilingus, vaginal penetration, semi-public sex, creampie, 3.3k words

a/n : pt 1 here --> teach, but can be read on its own! a gift for those who requested a part 2 hehe

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“i thought you said we weren’t going to bring this up again, neuvillette?”

well… he wasn’t. but he reasons with himself that it's quite unfair if he doesn’t reward you for the deed you’ve done. after all, the chief of justice should be ensuring fairness. it’s only equal if you get something in return. besides, you asked him to help you experience what an orgasm felt like, and he did agree.

but he really shouldn’t. that blowjob was a one-time thing, he made it clear. he didn’t want to corrupt you too much. can’t have you being too addicted to him and his cock, can you? but… then again. if he’s already indulged in your curiosity the first time, surely a second time wouldn’t hurt? only to help you learn, of course. its not everyday that he gets a chance to experience any sexual activities considering how busy he was. its not like he found anyone to do this with; until you came along. but he hasn’t even courted you, its so backwards. what happened to tradition?

“i believe it’s only fair that i respond to your interests in… learning about orgasms,” neuvillette responds, pulling off his gloves. “furthermore, you waited the whole night for me. it's wrong of me if i let you leave empty-handed, no?”

it's true; you stayed up all night just to visit him in his office once he finished his work. he’s been so busy nowadays, it's only at night when he truly has any free time at all. you feel a bit bad for intruding into his free time, but you barely had the chance to talk to him this whole week. little do you know, he doesn’t mind a single bit. not when its you. truthfully, he misses your consistent pestering too. he’s been drowning in so much work, he just couldn’t find the time.

you giggle at the seriousness of his tone. you didn’t necessarily visit him to ask for any sexual favours. he was the one who brought it up when you stepped into his office at 1am. well, maybe, just maybe, he was looking forward to it.

“so you’re gonna give me a mind-blowing orgasmー is what you’re saying,” you teased, and he chuckled.

“more than mind-blowing, y/n,” he corrects, making his way over to the sofa. “so much so that you’ll never forget your first. you have my word.”

seeing him so bound on making you feel good was attractive, to say the least. its the way that he kneels down, fingers free of his glove gently stroking your thighs, that has you drooling. it's insane how much his touches affect you, you’re sure he noticesー notices the way your legs part for him immediately. he didn’t even have to ask. he plants a kiss along your inner thighs, pushing them nearer to your chest. he doesn’t bite or suck; he’s just so gentle.

you squeak as he hikes your skirt up, face flushing red the moment his eyes focus on your covered cunt. “is… is this really okay, neuvillette?” you ask meekly. it's embarrassing how wet you got from him just kissing your thighs.

“foolish question,” he replies. while he understands it's your first time showing yourself to anyone, there’s no need to be embarrassedー not in front of him. he slides your underwear off, your glistening pussy on display. all for him to see, and taste. his thumb slides up your folds, collecting some of your stickiness. he has to have you.

you let out a gasp as his tongue settles onto your pussy for the first time, the warm muscle making you clamp your thighs around his head instantly. fuck, what was this feeling? he barely even made any movements, but you already feel like you’re on cloud 9. he flicks his tongue against your cunt, lapping up all the juices.

he sucks on your clit occasionally, making your whole body twist in pleasure. your thighs were clamped so tight around him, you thought you were suffocating himー not that he minded. “fuuuck, neuvillette,” you whined as he sucked particularly hard. his tongue experimentally dips into your hole, and you throw your head back. you felt tight even on his tongue; the confirmation that no one else has fucked your little hole just made his cock twitch.

neuvillette tongue-fucks you through the entire session, spreading your lips apart to get a better taste of you. he couldn’t stop himself; you tasted amazing. no other taste could satisfy him after this, he’ll need to eat you out everyday to feel fulfilled. “you taste absolutely divine,” he breaks away for a few seconds, before diving back in to taste your cunt once again.

he was addicted. you couldn’t help but feel something approaching, almost like you needed to pee. “waitー ahhー i feel weird,” you tell him, but he continues eating you out. he knew how close you were, and he wants to edge you so bad. just to tease you a littleー take the orgasm right out of your hands. but he won’t, not this timeー not your first time. he’ll let you enjoy every single moment of it. you deserve it after all.

“neuviー please, waitー fuck!” your legs shook as you reached your high, clenching onto his tongue and juices gushed out of you like a waterfall. your breaths quicken as he continues his movements, cleaning up every last bit of your cum. you taste so sweet, he would never get tired of it. in fact, he’s already planning to invite you to his office tomorrow; just so he can savor you once more. and maybe the day after. and after.

he finally pulls away, lips and chin glossy from your wetness. you take in the sight in front of you, and you blush. “so that’s what an orgasm feels like…” you trail off, and he wipes your juices off his face with the back of his hand.

“it felt good, yes?” he questions, standing up.

the erection in his pants was so obvious. you saw the outline of his cockー it looked like it was going to burst out of his pants from how hard he was. you blinked a couple of times as he handed you back your underwear. you were a little dizzy from how powerful that orgasm was, you don’t even notice him giving it to you. all you could focus on was how turned on you were from him getting hard from eating you out. your hole clenches around nothing, as you chewed on your lip. perhaps… you needed something inside of you.

“are you alright, y/n? you seem a bitー”

“can we…”

what?

oh, oh no. he knows what you’re going to say; he knows exactly what you’re going to ask for. thoughts are racing through his mind because he’s been thinking about this ever since the day you gave him a blowjob. he can’t allow himself to take your virginity, not here, not now. you’re barely ready to take anything inside of you, much less his cock. do you even know how big he is? oh, of course you didー so why are you asking this of him? he might tear you apart with that fat cock of his, and he definitely does not want to hurt you. and defiling you in his office? no, he’ll do it on his bed where you’re comfortable.

“…can we have sex?”

his eyes widened, thoughts doing a 180-degree flip when he hears those words come out of your mouth. it feels more surreal when you actually say it, when you actually ask him. he might’ve expected it, but that tone you asked it in was definitely… something. you asked so sweetly, it would be a crime to say no to you. someone as powerful as him, being so weak for you was something he’d never imagine would happen.

maybe he should really start thinking with his head instead of his dick; he’s so hard. he’d be a fool to not take your offer. to feel your cunt squeeze around him the moment his tip prods at your entrance, you’d probably whine and cry out from how big he was, nails clawing his back exactly the way he likes it. fuck, how tight you’d feel as he slowly inserts more of himself into you. would you even be able to take his entire length? it doesn’t matterー he’ll stretch you till you’re able to, till you can handle all of him.

but he knows better than to give into his desires so easily… right?

“i…” neuvillette is at a loss for words. he’s already too far in, its best that he stops at eating you out. but his dick is twitching in his pants, and your hands are reaching towards his beltー

“y/n,” he calls out, and you stop. “maybe… maybe not this time.” heavy emphasis on the word ‘maybe’, because any little thing you do might just change his mindー he’s that weak.

“why?” you pout, disappointment written on your face. your hand retracts, and he looks away. “you don’t want to fuck me?”

god, you… you and your vulgar words. so bluntly said as if you weren’t just embarrassed a while ago. you really think that he doesn’t want to fuck your brains out? “it's not that, love. it's just…”

“i can take it, if that’s what you’re worried about,” you smile, and he swore his heart started beating a little faster. it's silent, and you try again, hands reaching for his pants.

he doesn’t stop you this time.

your hands are already halfway through with unbuckling his belt, and you plead once more for any confirmation from him. “please, neuvillette? take my first?”

“fuck, alrightー okay,” he says breathlessly, his hands moving yours away as he unbuckles his own belt. he couldn’t take it, not when you were begging so nicely. it just shows again how hard it was to say no to you. he might give you everything you’ve ever wanted if you just asked.

“but you have to promise me,” neuvillette starts, unbuttoning and pulling off his clothes. “if i make you feel any discomfort, please voice itー”

his sentence gets cut short as you pull him down for a kiss. sometimes he just talks too much, you think. it was sloppy, tongues intertwining as he pushed you onto the sofa, crawling on top of you.

he breaks away from the kiss, hands hastily taking off your top. he pulls down your bra as he gets a glimpse of your bare tits. kisses work their way down your neck and onto your nipples, sucking and fondling each tit. you let out a moan when his hands slide down to your hips, pulling your skirt off.

“you are the most beautiful woman i’ve ever laid my eyes on,” he compliments, giving you a kiss on the forehead. your cheeks heat up. “really?”

“you think i, the chief of justice, would lie to you?” he asks, and you roll your eyes. he frees his cock from the constraint of his pants, and he presents himself, hard and erect all for you. he lets your hand roam around his body, finally landing on his cock. you give it a few experimental strokes, making him sigh. small drops of pre-cum leak out from the tip.

no matter how intimidated you were by his size, you were determined to take it. no way were you leaving tonight without your virginity taken.

he spreads your legs apart, sticking two fingers into your mouth. “suck,” he instructs, and you do. your tongue licks around his fingers, coating them fully with your saliva before he takes them out. one finger is inserted into you with no resistance, and he tries with a second one.

you moan at the pleasure as he pumps his digits into you, your wetness making it so easy to slide in and out. were you that turned on? it felt weird at first, but you got used to it quickly. it didn’t hurt or anything, but you definitely felt him stretching you out. he feels how tight you are, clenching around his fingers like you didn’t want him to take it out. but you did want something moreー this didn’t fill you up enough. “how do you feel, y/n?”

you hummed in response. “mm, it's not enough. i want something bigger,” you respond, and he takes his fingers out. he pops them into his mouth, tasting your sweetness once more. “i’ll give it to you. i’ll give you everythingー anything.”

he swallows as he lines his cock up with your entrance, seeing how big he was compared to your pussy. fuck, he might really tear you open. he spreads your pussy open with two fingers, his cock rubbing against your folds. “are you ready? take a deep breath for me.”

you heed his advice, nodding as you inhaled. he rubs his cock-head against your entrance a few more times, before he finally pushes the tip in.

you moan immediately, feeling the stretch of his cock. oh, he was big alright. it was only the tip, but you felt like he was going to split you in half. “so… mmhー big…”

its taking everything in him to not cum right now.

his head was spinning, it felt like he was in another world. he really just took your virginity, he really just deflowered you. did he even deserve this opportunity, to be your first? decades of not fucking anyone really heightened every feeling. you were so tight, he could barely move. you clenching around his fingers prior was nothing compared to this. his fingers on your waist grip harder, and he has to stop himself from even attempting to push his cock in any further or else he might really spill his load inside you.

“neuvillette? iー i said you can move,” you repeat. he must’ve not heard you. after all, his mind went blank the moment he pushed his tip inside of you.

“just a moment,” he clears his throat, panting as he dips his head into your neck. so this was what he has been missing out on? he might become addicted, and it's just the tip that's in you.

“you feel so good, fuck, i…” he mutters into your neck, slowly pushing more of his inches inside of you. you whine, hands wrapping around his neck. you have no idea how bad he wants to slam his entire length into you right now, but he stops himself. you felt so full, so fucked out, you could barely form a sentence. his cock was already hitting your cervix, but it still wasn’t all the way in.

“how are you feeling? tell me,” he demands, and you struggle to let out any words. “goodー great, i don’t know, please,” you mindlessly babble. you don’t even know what you’re saying ‘please’ to.

neuvillette starts painfully slow, dragging his cock in and out of you to let you get used to the feeling. the stretch was amazingー you didn’t know having a cock inside of you felt this good. it stung a little, but nothing too painful that you couldn’t handle.

he eventually picks up the pace, going faster once he sees that you’re starting to ease up. “want it faster?” he asks, and you nod eagerly. you could take it, and you wanted to feel all of him.

he throws both your legs over his shoulders, pressing them against your chest as he drills his cock into your tight cunt. the feeling of you clenching around him each time he thrusts into you has him feeling drunk. he fucks you so hard, yet so gentle at the same time; it doesn’t seem possible, but somehow it is.

your nails dig into his arms as he continuously pounds his cock into your hole. you’re ruined, and he likes it that way. the face you’re making right now has him groaning out. he doesn’t care that he’s in the officeー doesn’t care if anyone walks by and hears both of you moaning. you feel so fucking good around his cock, none of that mattered.

“y/n, you’re so tight,” he hisses, your pussy clamping onto him like a vice grip. he leans down to kiss you again, fucking into you harder.

you moan into the kiss, hands pulling at his hair when his cock hits a particularly pleasurable spot. he can’t lie, pulling on his hair makes his balls tighten. “so good…” you drool, and he smiles.

you couldn’t think about anything else but the way neuvillette’s cock was slamming into you so roughly. you could barely respond. it's like he was craving for this, like he was depriving himself all this time just for this moment. you felt your orgasm coming much faster than the first time.

“i’m gonna cumー neuvillette, ahh,” you moan, and his hands immediately reach down to rub at your clit. “yeah? enjoying yourself that much?” he teases, and you whine in response, and he pounds into you harder. you’re so close, so close…

“fuck!” you almost screamed out as your orgasm hit you. you see nothing but stars as your pussy clenches on his cock impossibly tighter than before, your eyes rolling back from the amount of pleasure that just washed over you.

“ohー fuck, y/n, this is…” his hip stutters at the sensation, warmth and wetness drenching his cock. you pant as he continues fucking into you, still feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm. he was chasing his own high too.

he needs to cum inside you, he won’t settle for anywhere else. he wants to see you squirm as his warm cum fills your insides. he wants to see that white ring of cum form around the base of his cock, watch it all leak out after as he struggles to stuff it back into you.

“let me cum inside of you, please, y/n,” he begs, and who were you to say no? the iudex of fontaine begging you? you’ll gladly allow him. you were planning on letting him even if he didn’t ask. “do it, i’m all yours, neuvillette.”

hearing those words were his final straw. “take it, fuckー take it all, oh,” he halts with one last thrust, dumping his load into you. white, milky cum fill your insides, warmth spreading throughout your lower half as you moan at the feeling. it almost felt comforting.

he continues depositing his cum inside your cunt, panting. he didn’t think he would cum this much, was he really that deprived of pleasure? he sees his cum leak from your cunt even though you’re stuffed full of him.

“my love,”  he calls, caressing your cheek, and a peck to your forehead. you shy away. “you.. you really need to stop calling me that.”

he raises his eyebrows. did you not like that? but he’s been calling you that all this time…

“before i ask whyー are you alright? i didn’t hurt you, did i?” he asks, concerned. you giggle, he’s always so caring. as expected of neuvillette.

“yes, i’m fineー great even,” you smile, and his expression softens at the assurance. “good.”

“just that… should you really be calling me that? i mean, i don’t hate it, if anything its the opposite, but,” you clear your throat. “we’re not even… together. unless its just, a one time thingー or something like that.”

“i understand,” he says, and you make eye contact with him. he looks gorgeous, covered in sweat but absolutely glowing. ah, focus. “my apologies for confusing you, but i do have intentions of courting you.”

oh?

“you do?” you ask, and he can’t help but laugh. “are you saying you haven’t seen the way i look at you, y/n? and whatever we’re doing now is… i wouldn’t do this with someone i didn’t have feelings for.”

you hum. “i mean, you haven’t exactly made a move, unless you consider this one?”

“well, this is slightly backwards, but tell you what,” he starts, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “come home with me, and i’ll plan something for the both of us in the morning,” he whispers into your ear like it's a secret. “how does that sound?”

“i… think that sounds lovely.”

ー @yuki-world

taglist: @lavenderslemonade

[yannawayne]

v. what's up danger?

SYNOPSIS: "Alright, let's do this one last time. My name is Y/N Kyle. I was bitten by a radioactive spider, And I've been the one and only Spidey in Gotham. I’m pretty sure you know the rest." PAIRING: Older! Damian Wayne/Fem! Reader TAGS: Established relationship, Wounds, Violence, Surgical procedures, Panic Attacks, Arguments AO3: yenwayne SERIES LINK: gotham's only spidey

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“Oh my god, stop! I do not need to see my own fucking thirst trap!” you groaned, quickly pausing the video. You turned away, face burning hotter than Metropolis's sun, and stared at the graffiti on the wall across from you.

You covered your face with your hands, groaning in embarrassment. “This is not how I pictured my debut.”

Morgan, still laughing her ass off, was clearly unfazed. She scrolled through the comments, her grin spreading even wider.

“You’ve gotta hear these,” she said, her voice barely containing her amusement. She began reading aloud, each comment more deranged than the last.

harry 🐾☕️ @ blehhidc ・1hr going to become a villain rn. pls choke slam me into Arkham.

ji ─ nightcrawlers #1 fan @ nightcrawler_updates・1hr i want nightcrawler to smash that helicopter on my tits

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Thursday, 9:40 AM - Stark Industries, Gotham City.

Morgan grins, clearly pleased with the result. “Not too shabby, right?"

"What. The. Fuck."

“Language, kid.”

You turn, seeing Tony standing at the door. He taps on the metal frame of the entrance with his knuckles, the sound echoing slightly in the spacious lab. 

“That is suit A1. I call it the Crawler.”

He strides across the room, his footsteps echoing on the polished floor, and reaches a nearby table. The table is lined with various prototypes and gadgets, each more advanced than the last. He picks up a pair of gloves, black with red fingers and claws at the end, and hands them to you.

“Test the gloves out,” Tony instructs. “All the features are going to be introduced to you.”

You slip on the gloves and flex your fingers, feeling the suit respond instantly. As you activate the helmet's AI, a pleasant, slightly robotic voice greets you.

"Welcome, user. I am your integrated AI assistant. Please provide a designation."

Tony leans against a workbench, arms crossed, watching you with an expectant look. 

“You gotta name 'em,” he says. “Any ideas?”

Running your tongue over your teeth, you hesitate. Your gaze drifts away from Tony and lands on Morgan, who’s standing a few steps back, arms crossed, watching with a curious expression. She raises an eyebrow, sensing your uncertainty, but doesn’t say anything—just waits to see what you’ll do next.

“Uh...” you start, the words coming slowly as you search for the right name. 

For a moment, the lab fades into the background. Your thoughts drift back to your mother, and a familiar ache settles in your chest. You clear your throat, feeling a mix of emotions bubbling up. You’re not sure why, but something about this moment feels important.

“How about Maggie?”

The AI responds, "Designation accepted. I am Maggie."

You catch Morgan’s eyes, and she gives you a soft, almost tender look. There’s a warmth there, a silent recognition of what the name means to you. 

“Maggie it is, then,” Tony nods approvingly, clapping his hands as he approaches.

“Now, I’ll give you the basic rundown,” Tony says, gesturing towards the suit with a casual flick of his hand, his tone all business. “Night vision, live communication with Morgan here, medical and vital scans, contacts to emergency numbers, a heater, and a hood. The gloves? Claws for fights. And the suit also connects to web-shooters.”

You twist your wrist, curious, and notice small rectangular devices embedded in your palms, integrated with the gloves.

Tony catches your eye and points to them. “Those web-shooters are designed to enhance your organic webs—make them shoot better, farther, stronger, and faster.”

"Nice," you mutter, flexing your fingers.

The helmet’s display suddenly shifts, bringing up a sleek interface that showcases the various features Tony just mentioned. The visuals are crisp and clear, icons representing each function appearing in a smooth, fluid motion. 

Tony starts to circle you, his hands moving animatedly as he continues his explanation. “Then there’s the cape. And the advanced GPS with real-time tracking, so you’ll never lose your way, and neither will we.”

You let out a low whistle. “That is a whole hell of a lot. The media wasn’t joking when they said you were crazy about vigilante tech.”

“Crazy? I prefer ‘innovatively obsessed.’ Someone’s got to push the boundaries of what’s possible—might as well be the guy who’s not afraid to get a little nuts."

Reaching up, you pull the hood over your head, feeling it snap into place with a satisfying click. The suit responds instantly, the advanced GPS blinking to life on your helmet’s display, projecting a detailed map of Gotham right before your eyes. You catch a faint scent wafting through the helmet—clean and fresh, with just a hint of leather. 

“Smells like a new car in here, Mr. Stark,” you grin, taking a deep breath.

"Happy to help, kid. Are we good to go?" Tony asks.

You nod, feeling the suit's snug fit as it conforms to your movements. Tony smirks as he grabs Morgan by the shoulders, steering her toward the door. Her sneakers squeak against the polished tiles as she resists slightly, more out of surprise than reluctance.

"Alright! Come on," Tony urges, pressing the buttons for the elevator. The sleek doors slide open with a soft whoosh. 

Confused, you take a moment to let the suit decloak, watching as it seamlessly transforms back into the inconspicuous glasses and belt. 

You raise an eyebrow, still unsure of what’s happening. “Go where?”

“The safehouse,” Tony replies with a shrug as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

 ༻⊰───⋅

Thursday, 1:06 PM - ???, Gotham City.

"What the fuck wrong with you people?"

You step out of Tony's car, your eyes widening as you take in the sight before you. The building looms ahead, a decaying relic from another era. The "SOLD" sign is barely visible through the grime and neglect, and the structure itself looks like it hasn’t seen a lick of maintenance in decades. The windows are boarded up with splintered wood, and the paint on the facade peels away in large, ragged chunks, revealing the weathered wood underneath.

Tony and Morgan follow you out, donning hoodies and glasses to blend in and avoid drawing attention. 

“You guys bought a building?!”

Morgan gives you a sheepish smile. Tony, on the other hand, claps a hand on your shoulder, his grin wide and unapologetic.

“Welcome to the new safehouse,” Tony announces with a dramatic flourish of his hands. “It’s got character, right? Sometimes, you’ve got to go a little off the beaten path to find the perfect spot.”

“Sorry,” Morgan chuckles, shaking her head. “Dad insisted. I guess we’ll see how well it lives up to that promise.”

Tony shrugs, unbothered. “Hey, it’s got the essentials: privacy, space, and with a little TLC, it’ll be great. Besides, it’s just a base of operations. You won’t be living here full-time.”

You glance at the rundown building, still skeptical. “I hope you’re right about this.”

“You’re killing me, kid. I’ve seen your old warehouse. This place? It’s a palace compared to that dump. I’ve already done some work on it,” Tony chuckles, shaking his head as he locks his car. You have half a mind to tell him that leaving a luxury car in this neighborhood might not be the best idea, but you hold back. 

“This”—he emphasizes with a sweeping gesture—“will be better than anything you’ve had.” 

With that, you all walk past a broken, torn-up gate, its metal barely hanging on its hinges and rusted beyond repair. Tony retrieves a key from his pocket, and with a satisfying click, he unlocks the door. You all follow him inside.

Inside, the space contrasts sharply with its run-down exterior. The walls were covered with graffiti. Books are scattered haphazardly in one corner, and some tech equipment is piled up in the organized chaos.

Large screens line the room, with a computer at the center, displaying a dizzying array of data streams, security feeds, and holographic schematics.

Holographic displays float above the desks, showing real-time analytics and project statuses. A central 3D map of Gotham rotates slowly, highlighting key locations and active missions with a soft glow.

Mechanical robotic arms are scattered throughout the space—some hanging from the ceiling, others mounted on the walls. They buzz and whir softly as they perform routine maintenance on your equipment.

Your jaw drops, and your shoulders slump as you take in the scene. Your eyes widen in disbelief, and you instinctively take a step back, as if trying to distance yourself from the sheer scale of the tech before you. 

Morgan steps in behind you, her gaze sweeping across the room with recognition. She whistles low and turns to Tony, her eyebrows raised.

“So that’s where some of my old tech went.”

“Old?!” you screech at her. “This looks like a high-tech haven compared to what we were using before!”

Morgan rolls her eyes and nudges you playfully. “Dad likes to think anything not cutting-edge is ancient history. This is all yesterday’s innovations.”

“Yep. If this is ‘high-tech,’ I’d hate to see what you were working with before,” Tony snarks, shutting the warehouse door with a creak from the rusted hinges. “Bet you had a rotary dial phone in there too, didn’t you, kid?”

“Ha ha,” you retort, rolling your eyes. “But seriously, this setup is actually impressive.”

You look around, then toss your backpack onto a nearby table and pull out your old suit. It’s practically obsolete with the new upgrades, but you’re thinking of framing it for nostalgia’s sake. Tony’s gaze sharpens as he inspects the material.

“Wayne Tech? Is that Kevlar?” Tony says, his expression souring. “Low blow bringing that into my house.”

“Lower than you think,” you shrug.

“Alright, whatever,” Tony grumbles, waving a hand dismissively. “Get that thing out of my sight before I projectile vomit all over it.”

“Wouldn’t want to make you hurl before your next upgrade,” you snort under your breath.

“I’m going to do you a solid, kid, and pretend I didn’t hear any of that.”

Turning back to the central table, Tony snaps his fingers. Holograms flicker to life, projecting a variety of case files and news reports.

“Now, let’s get down to business.”

The holograms display a series of high-profile incidents, with the central image featuring Black Mask, his grim visage glaring out from multiple angles.

You frown and step closer, your eyes scanning the floating holograms. Articles about Oscorp Industries, research papers on spiders, and other related documents whir around, each highlighted with a soft, glowing outline. 

Among the swirling articles and data, one catches your eye: an Octavius Burton article from your prom night.

Tony glances at you. “Everything here ties into what we’re dealing with.”

Humming, you step closer and press the Octavius Burton file. Morgan shifts beside you, her expression unreadable.

"That was the guy who attacked us at prom..." you say, turning to her.

Morgan nods and taps another hologram, revealing a new file marked “Confidential.” It’s from a government source, with its contents obscured by digital encryption.

The file opens to reveal classified documents, high-security footage, and a death certificate among them.

“He died a week ago,” Morgan says, scuffing her shoes against the floor, the sound echoing slightly in the room. “And for some reason, Blackgate officials are trying to keep it under wraps. He died after injecting himself with a serum.”

She pauses, her dark eyes locking onto yours with piercing intensity. “Lizard serum.”

Tony taps a few commands, and more files appear on the holographic display. These documents focus on Octavius's genetic research, showing charts, graphs, and notes on enhancing human abilities.

“Here’s where it gets interesting,” Tony says, pointing to a dense document. “Octavius was obsessed with improving human potential, working on genetic modifications to enhance physical and mental capabilities.”

Morgan’s expression tightens as she explains, “He was trying to create a new kind of metahuman. The robotic arms were his first success, but the spider serum was supposed to be the next big leap. When the board rejected it and refused to fund him, he turned to more dangerous methods.”

Tony nods, adding, “And from what we know, it seems like he might have been successful with his spider serum research in some way.”

Morgan’s gaze shifts to you. You feel a burning sensation where you were bitten, and shift uncomfortably, tracing the spot on your skin with your fingers.

“But that serum was lost after his arrest. This lizard serum, however, is a completely different story. It’s not connected to him.”

You study the files closely, noting sections on enhancing strength, agility, and cognitive functions—some of which match your own research with Selina.

“Uh, he... I think he used to work with my dad. My late biological dad,” you say, scratching your cheek thoughtfully.

Tony’s brows shoot up in surprise. “Your dad?”

You nod, struggling to find the right words as you stumble over them. “Yeah, my dad worked at Oscorp. When I first got my powers, I found some of his old research on spiders. It’s almost identical to what Octavius was working on. He even thanked Octavius in one of his papers.”

“Freaky...” Morgan murmurs, her face scrunching into a grimace. “And now you’re—”

“I have the same powers after being bitten by a spider the night of Octavius’ attack,” you sigh, running a hand through your hair. “Freaky indeed.”

The room falls into a heavy silence before Morgan speaks up.

"Stark Industries, uh... also used to do genetic research."

Tony tenses but doesn’t interrupt her.

“For medical purposes,” Morgan continues, “we studied serums based on animal genetics. My mom was seriously ill, and we explored genetic modifications to help her. One serum showed promise but ultimately failed.”

Tony’s eyes darken, and he lifts his head slowly, pain evident in his gaze.

“It sped up her sickness,” Tony says, sorrow seeping into his tone. “Despite the risks and the devastating consequences, I administered the serum because I was desperate. Desperate people make dangerous decisions. And... she wasn’t the only one affected.”

Tony’s face hardens, a shadow of regret crossing his features. “I thought I could make a difference, save lives. But instead, I caused suffering. My research led to deaths—people betrayed by the very hope I offered. I shut down that department the next day, but the damage was already done.”

His tone is cold, terribly cold, as he turns to you, placing his hands on your shoulders. "You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be alive. But you are. And there’s a reason for that. I need you to understand that. I need you to believe that what you’ve been given isn’t a curse—it’s a chance."

"I know," you murmur. "And I believe in that chance."

"That’s why I want to help you, kid," he says. "I owe it to everyone who was affected by these experiments. If I can do anything to make up for the past or assist you in this fight, then I will. Because it’s the least I can do."

Tony steps back and taps a button on the console. A hologram flickers to life.

“This is Curt Connors,” Tony says, gesturing toward the hologram. The image reveals a man with rugged features: high cheekbones, a strong jawline, and short-cut brown hair. He wears glasses and a lab coat, but what catches your eye is his prosthetic arm.

Tony continues, “Connors is currently researching lizard genetics. He’s got the Sionis family bankrolling him, so you know he’s not working with spare change. From what we know, he’s working on enhancements like Octavius was. There’s a solid chance he’s cooked up the serum that led to Octavius’s demise.”

Morgan steps closer, her fingers brushing the screen to bring up more data. “That’s why we need to find his research location and figure out exactly what he’s working on.”

You study the photo of Dr. Connors, zooming in on the details. 

“So, that’s the mission then,” you murmur, your gaze fixed on the image.

Tony looks between you and Morgan. “Once we have a lead on Connors, we can plan our next steps.”

“I’ll dig into any leads I can find on Connors. But be ready for some dead ends. This guy doesn’t exactly advertise his work,” Tony says, waving his phone around.

You consider the situation, glancing between Tony and Morgan. “Do you want me to start searching for information tonight? I can patrol.”

“Slow your roll, kid,” Tony raises a hand, his tone cautionary. “I’m aware of your ‘find out the hard way’ track record. PEPPER’s medical reports on you say enough.”

“Uh, I’ve got enhanced DNA. I can handle it,” you laugh at him.

“Uh,” Tony mocks, “who cares? Keep getting beat up like this, and you’ll end up dead—and that’ll be on me. My wealth, connections, and power can only do so much to sway public opinion in my favor. I’m not exactly Bruce Wayne, you know.”

Tony had seen footage of you in action and read the headlines—who hasn’t? Gotham was crawling with spandex-wearing vigilantes darting across rooftops, each with a more outlandish name than the last. He hadn’t paid them much mind—aside from their flashy tech, they weren’t his concern. But then there was you: the serum, the connections. Once he dug into that, Tony found himself unexpectedly driven, despite himself, to keep you alive.

“Seriously? Enhanced healing, web-spinning, and super strength here,” you say, crossing your arms. “I’m not exactly made of glass…”

“If we want to get to the bottom of this lizard guy, we need you alive,” Morgan says, shooting you a look and pushing up her glasses. “So, you have to take it slow. Baby steps.”

She moves to a medical area in the corner and gestures for you to follow. You raise an eyebrow but comply. Her hands slide up your arm and roll up your sleeve.

“Starting with this.”

Morgan pricks a needle into your arm, and you yelp. You wince at the sting and the cold spreading from the needle, feeling the pressure as your blood is drawn.

“Dude! What the hell?” you exclaim.

“Blood sample,” she replies matter-of-factly. She extracts the sample and slaps a bandaid on your arm. “Have you ever thought about how your powers work? Or how modified you really are?”

Morgan moves toward a machine that looks like something straight out of a sci-fi movie. The device hums to life, its surface lighting up with a soft blue glow. A series of holographic displays flicker into existence, showing intricate scans and streams of data.

Morgan inserts the vial of your blood into a slot on the machine, and the device immediately begins processing the sample. The holograms shift and change, displaying molecular structures and DNA sequences.

Morgan studies the readouts. “Your DNA is... fascinating. The spider venom bonded with your cells.”

“You see this?" she points to a segment of the hologram. "This is where the venom altered your genetic structure.”

You grin, stepping closer to the display. “Yeah! I’ve seen this before. I… did some research on my own. The venom has this enzyme that acts as a catalyst, a transgenic catalyst, that facilitates its integration with human DNA. The spider’s genetic material introduces specific protein structures that enhance cellular regeneration and muscle density. Essentially, it’s rewriting my genetic code at a molecular level. The changes are so thorough that my cells keep churning out these proteins and enzymes, which is why my abilities are so persistent. It’s like I’ve got built-in bioengineering on a cellular level. And—”

You trail off, realizing you’re rambling. Coughing into your hand, you try to muster a serious expression. “Uh, sorry. I tend to geek out over this stuff.”

Tony blinks at you from his spot, and Morgan raises an eyebrow, clearly taken aback.

“Sometimes I forget you’re actually smart,” Morgan says, narrowing her eyes. “Every time you show a hint of intelligence, it’s like a miracle.”

“Wow,” you grumble, flushing with embarrassment.

“It’s cute,” Morgan says with a smile, continuing to read the data. “Basic stuff. Super strength, enhanced healing... standard Spidey powers we’ve seen.”

A beep sounds as she taps another screen.

“Pain tolerance when you’re adrenaline-fueled is off the charts,” she murmurs. “If you ever needed surgery, the amount of anesthetic required would be dangerously high.”

Tony leans over her shoulder. “The dosage you'd need could drop an elephant—twice over.”

Morgan glances up, turning the tablet to face you. “Your reflexes and agility are beyond the usual. You’re faster and more responsive. But that means your body burns energy quickly. You’ll need a high-calorie diet to keep up with your metabolism.”

"I do," you shrug. "I burn through like six meals a day. Our grocery bills have never been higher."

“Well, did you know you need over 5,000 calories a day?” Morgan tilts her head. “I doubt six meals covers that.”

“Oh,” you flush. "How was I supposed to know that?"

“You figured out the science behind your powers on a genetic level, but couldn't figure out how much food you need?” Tony quips.

“…yes?”

“You’re killing me, kid,” Tony groans, raising an eyebrow as he pulls out his phone. “Great. I’ll make a note to increase your stipend for groceries. Feeding you might bankrupt me faster than any supervillain ever could.”

Tony steps out to take a call from his secretary, leaving you and Morgan alone in the lab. She’s absorbed in analyzing your results, mumbling to herself and scribbling notes on a ratty notepad. You let out a sigh, reactivating your suit and running your fingers along the edges of the emblem on your chest.

Spiders, lizards, bats, and cats... What’s with all these animals?

At least you’re not up against dinosaurs.

…

Yet.

 ༻⊰───⋅

Thursday, 8:03 PM - Downtown, Gotham City.

This? This was awesome. 

Swinging from the skyscrapers, you feel an adrenaline rush unlike anything you've experienced back in Queens. The swings are higher, the speed is faster, and the thrill is almost overwhelming. 

Gotham’s downtown is a far cry from Queens. 

Where once you swung past modest streetlamps and low-rise buildings, now you’re darting off glassy skyscrapers that pierce the sky. The towering structures and crowded streets of Gotham create a backdrop that feels almost alien—a dazzling, high-octane contrast to the familiar neighborhood you left behind. It’s like stepping into an entirely new world, and the exhilaration of it all is intoxicating.

"You know, after that big pep talk, I figured you'd want to take a breather," Morgan’s face appears on the screen of your helmet. She’s lounging in a chair at your new safehouse, clad in a dark tank top with her hair tousled and square glasses perched on her nose.

She looks every bit the quintessential “guy in the chair.”

“We’ve been looking over case files for hours! Cut me some slack for wanting to get some fresh air!” you retort, flipping through the air and executing a sharp swing around a skyscraper.

Morgan shakes her head, frowning. “You still have, like, two broken ribs.”

“Which will probably heal in about an hour,” you point out.

You swing onto a rooftop, landing with a skid as the rough concrete bites into your boots, the jarring impact vibrating up your legs. You brace yourself, absorbing the shock, then straighten up, brushing off the dust and debris clinging to your suit. The city lights glint off the sleek metal of your gear.

“Maggie,” Morgan’s voice carries a hint of pleading. “Run their vitals.”

A moment of silence follows, with only the distant hum of the city below. Then Maggie’s voice, calm and measured, comes through the earpiece, her data flashing across your visor. “Vitals are stable. No immediate signs of distress, but the injuries are fresh. Overexertion could lead to complications.”

Morgan’s face reappears on your helmet’s screen, her glasses glinting in the dim light of the safehouse. “See? Even Maggie agrees. Maybe it’s time to take it easy for a while.”

You let out a sigh. “Yeah, yeah. But come on, fresh air’s good for the soul, right?”

“I get it, but you should still be careful. Gotham’s not exactly known for being forgiving.”

You chuckle, stretching your arms above your head. “I’ll keep that in mind. Crime doesn't sleep. But for now, I’m enjoying the view.”

The adrenaline from your earlier swings starts to mellow, leaving a calm satisfaction in its wake. For a moment, it’s just you and the city, connected in a way.

Morgan's voice returns to your earpiece, lighter now. "You know, I’ve been thinking about something while you were out there."

You raise an eyebrow, glancing out over the city. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“Well,” she begins, a hint of hesitation in her tone, “since I’m always in the thick of things with you, I’ve been thinking I might need a codename or alias. Something that fits my role.”

You chuckle, turning to look down at the bustling street below, a river of colors as people move like ants in the city’s labyrinth. “True. I have to call my guy in the chair something. What are you leaning toward?”

“Morgana,” she replies, a touch of pride in her voice.

You laugh, a genuine burst of amusement that makes your shoulders shake. “Really? Just adding a letter to your name? That’s what you’ve got?”

Morgan’s tone turns playful. “Hey! It’s better than nothing.”

“Alright, Morgana,” you snort, giving one last look at the cityscape before preparing to head back into the night. “You up for some monitoring? I’m heading back out. This city needs me.”

“Oh, so cool,” she laughs at your last line. “You’re like Batman.”

“He is the standard,” you reply, stepping to the edge of the building. The cold wind brushes against your suit and tugs at your hood. You pull it up, feeling the fabric tighten around your face as you squint against the biting breeze.

“Think you can get me a gig?”

“Sure. Give me a moment.”

On your visor, the map highlights various irregularities in bright, pulsing colors. Patterns of activity pulse in vivid reds and oranges, tracing a trail of anomalies through the city's grid. 

Then, a prominent prompt flashes onto the screen, breaking through the overlay of data. It’s a high-priority alert, marked by a flashing icon and an urgent red border.

Morgan’s fingers dance across her laptop keyboard, the rhythmic click-clack of her nails echoing in your helmet. “Ready for your first big debut?” 

You check the readout, eyes narrowing. “What’ve you got for me tonight, Gotham?”

Immediately, the visor's display shifts to show a live news feed. The screen splits, revealing a scene unfolding at Wayne Industries. The news anchor's voice cuts through the rush of wind and the hum of your suit’s systems.

"—reporting live from Wayne Industries. A helicopter has been hijacked and has stolen sensitive technology. The situation is escalating, and authorities are struggling to regain control. We have reports of the helicopter on a collision course with the city’s power grid."

The live feed is a frenzied mix of flashing lights and dark, ominous smoke. The camera, amateur and shaky, captures the scene with screams and frantic commentary. The helicopter wobbles dangerously close to the towering buildings, its movements growing more erratic by the second.

“Alright, Morgana, give me a location on that chopper. I’m heading in.”

“On it. I’ll track its trajectory and keep you updated. Be careful out there.”

With a flip, you launch yourself off the rooftop, the sensation of free-fall exhilarating. The city lights blur into streaks of color as you swing through the air. Each swing propels you higher and faster. 

A few sharp, speedy webs later, you spot the helicopter's silhouette slicing through the thick, smoky haze—a dark, menacing shape against the illuminated skyline.

THWAP.

With a powerful swing, you fire a web at the tail of the helicopter, the line snapping tight and anchoring you securely. You grunt with effort, reeling it in and pulling with all your strength. The helicopter lurches violently, its spinning blades blurring dangerously.

Quickly, you fire another web, anchoring it to a nearby building. Using the momentum, you swing to the opposite side and shoot another web to stabilize the helicopter. The erratic spinning slows as the webs pull it into a more controlled, steady position. 

“Alright, you glorified bucket of bolts,” you mutter, “let’s see how you like a little traffic jam!”

You draw back and hurl yourself toward the helicopter’s blades, cutting through the deafening noise. Multiple webs shoot from your wrists, encasing the spinning blades in thick, sticky threads. The helicopter’s spin slows, the blades eventually halting as the craft begins to tremble and sway.

Panting, you cling to the helicopter’s side, your feet firmly anchored on the fuselage. Through the cockpit, you see the hijackers, their movements erratic and panicked.

One lunges at you with a knife, but you snatch it away and web it to the helicopter’s side. “Whoa, careful there! You might poke an eye out with that thing.”

The hijackers scramble, their attempts to regain control clumsy and chaotic. D-grade criminals, you think, as you fire webs to disarm them, yanking their guns and knives away.

“This is just sad. I was hoping for some more action,” you quip, grabbing one hijacker by the collar and tossing him out of the cockpit. He flails wildly as he’s hurled into the air, but you’re quick to fire a web, catching him and securing him to a nearby rooftop. His face pales to a ghostly white as he dangles precariously above the city. 

The second hijacker tries to take advantage of your distraction, but you’re on top of it. You spin, firing a web that catches him mid-swing. With a swift, decisive shove, you slam him against the side of the helicopter. He grunts in pain, and with a quick yank, you toss him out. Another web secures him to the same rooftop as his partner, leaving them both dangling high above the city.

You swing back to the rooftop where you left the men hanging and grin down at them. “Time for you guys to have a chat with the authorities,” you call out. “Hope you enjoyed your flight!”

KABOOM!

Before you can take another step, a violent shudder erupts from the helicopter. A plume of black smoke bursts from the engine compartment, followed by a sharp, bright explosion that momentarily illuminates the night sky. The helicopter's frame buckles and a series of smaller explosions ripple through it, sending debris scattering into the air.

“Oh boy,” you mutter, eyes widening as the helicopter, now belching thick, dark smoke, begins a slow, uncontrolled descent. Without a moment's hesitation, you dive after it, the wind roaring in your ears as you plummet. Your eyes stay fixed on the spiraling craft, webs catching falling debris to propel you faster.

Below, chaos erupts. Civilians scatter, their panicked screams piercing the clamor of the sputtering engines. Amidst the fleeing crowd, one woman remains frozen—her uniform and press ID visible. Trembling, she clutches her phone, snapping photos as the helicopter plummets closer.

"WATCH OUT!"

 ༻⊰───⋅

Thursday, 8:34 PM - Downtown, Gotham City.

A Few Moments Earlier.

“Mister Ryder, I assure you, I am not insane!” 

Vicki Vale’s voice slices through the cacophony of Gotham’s busy streets, sharp and urgent. Her frustration is clear as she clutches her phone with a vice-like grip, her manicured fingers pressing into the device. Around her, the city's frenetic pulse continues unabated—taxi horns blare, and the murmur of the crowd flows around her like a river.

Her eyes dart around, scanning the street, trying to make herself heard over the din. “I was there! The spider vigilante is real! I was nearly robbed, and they intervened directly!”

Her boss’s voice on the other end is clipped, dismissive. “Vicki, I understand your enthusiasm, but right now, we need to focus on what’s capturing the public’s interest. Wayne and Stark are making headlines. Why not go interview that Kyle girl? It’s a classic rags-to-riches story. The public eats that up.”

“Who cares about some civilian?!” Vicki’s frustration boils over. She steps into the crowded Gotham streets, where people glance at her momentarily before resuming their daily routines. “This vigilante could be huge!”

“Vicki, we’re on a tight deadline,” her boss interrupts firmly. “Unless you have solid proof and concrete details about this… Spider, I don’t see how this story fits. Stick to the Wayne-Stark coverage for now. We’ll revisit the vigilante angle if it gains traction.”

Vicki’s protest is cut short by a sudden, deafening scream. She swivels her head, then snaps her gaze upward, eyes widening in disbelief. Above, the helicopter spins wildly—a chaotic blur of metal and smoke, its descent wreaking havoc on the cityscape.

A figure emerges—a vigilante slicing through the smoke like a bolt of lightning. The red and black suit flashes against the darkening sky, the emblem of a bold, black spider spreading its legs wide.

Bingo.

Without a second thought, Vicki plunges into the heart of the chaos. Around her, the crowd is a roiling sea of panic and flight, but she’s single-minded. Her fingers fumble with her phone, desperately trying to position the lens toward the unfolding spectacle.

SNAP! SNAP! SNAP!

Flashes of light burst from her camera in rapid succession. Every captured frame is a fragment of the story she’s been hunting, and nothing—nothing at all—will pry this chance from her grasp.

KABOOM!

A deafening roar slams into Vicki’s ears, obliterating all other sounds, leaving only a sharp ring. The helicopter plummets in a swift, uncontrollable descent—a menacing blur of spinning metal and thick, black smoke, tumbling right toward her. Her eyes widen in horror, breath caught in her throat as the scene drags out in slow motion.

“WATCH OUT!”

The warning is almost too late.

A powerful gust of wind sweeps through, lifting Vicki off her feet. She screams, grabbing onto the nearest figure with a white-knuckled grip. The vigilante, clad in a red and black suit, swoops in, pulling her into the air. 

“Whatever you do, don’t let go!” you shout over the howling wind. Vicki scrambles and her arms clamp around your neck.

You swing into action, firing a web at a nearby rooftop to secure yourself. With one hand gripping the web line anchored to the building, you hold up both yourself and Vicki, who is clinging to you with white-knuckled fear. Your other hand reaches out, shooting another web directly at the falling helicopter. 

SNAP!

The web snaps into place, and you grunt as the sudden force pulls you, but the other web holds firm. With a mighty effort, you brace yourself, bearing the full weight of the 6,000-pound craft. 

“Ah, fuck,” you mutter, biting your lip as you throw your head back. Pain flares up like a bad cramp, every muscle in your arm and back screaming.

“Pretty sure I just broke something,” you grimace, feeling the weight of the helicopter pushing you to the limit. But with adrenaline fueling you, you grit your teeth and somehow keep it suspended. "This is great. Love my life."

Vicki, initially shaking in shock, gradually starts to calm down. Before you know it, she’s unwinding one arm from your shoulder and frantically digging through her pocket for her phone. You flinch at the sudden shift in weight.

“Hey! Hey! Hey! Lady! Will’ya stop moving?!” you scold, trying to keep both of you steady, but she’s too busy to care. Her attention is locked on her screen as she fumbles to activate the video function.

“Seriously? You’re recording now?”

Clinging to you with just one hand wrapped around your neck, she somehow keeps the lens focused on your helmet. Here she is, literally hanging on for dear life, yet still focused on getting that scoop. 

You can’t decide if she’s brave, stupid, or both.

“My name is Vicki Vale, and I’m a reporter for Gotham Gazette!” she shouts, her voice slightly distorted by the adrenaline. “I’m witnessing an incredible act of heroism here! The Vigilante—”

Before she can continue, you shoot a quick, exasperated look at her. “Not the time for an interview!”

“Uh. We’re live, so if you could just—”

“Not the time! Seriously?” you hiss. “Can we save the interview for after I’m done holding up a helicopter?”

Vicki shoves her phone back in your face. “This is history! People need to know who you are. Give me something to work with!”

You let out an exasperated groan, eyes squinting against the strain. “Alright, alright! You want a scoop? One question only. What do you want to know?”

“Why are you doing this? What’s your mission here in Gotham?” 

“I’m—” you pause, wincing as a fresh wave of pain hits. “I’m here to protect the city. People like you and everyone below deserve safety, and if I can help provide that, then... Shit!—that’s... that’s what I’ll do.”

The helicopter lurches again, and you grimace. “Just—okay! Got your story, right? Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

With a slow, controlled motion, you begin to lower the helicopter. The descent is careful, each web-strained inch guiding the craft to a safe landing. Finally, with a gentle thud, the helicopter touches down on the ground. The immense weight lifts from your shoulders, and you thank every god you can think of.

Jumping down, you land a safe distance from the wreck and gently set Vicki down. The streets around you hum with activity as emergency responders rush in. You let out a deep sigh of relief, feeling a sharp sting in your back—a problem for another day.

Vicki tucks her phone away, and as the adrenaline fades, you freeze. You know her—Vicki Vale. Columnist, gadfly, all-around troublemaker. The kind of trouble people crave and dread in equal measure.

She flashes a dazzling smile, perfect teeth catching the light as her nails trail up your bicep. You flinch, fighting to keep your cool. 

“You’ve given me one heck of a story,” she purrs, her voice dropping an octave, laced with a flirtatious edge.

“So, what’s your deal?” she continues, leaning in a bit closer. “Secret identity? Hidden agenda?”

You glance at her, trying to maintain a professional tone despite the proximity. “Not interested in sharing more than I already have. Ha. Just… doing my job.”

Vicki smirks, clearly intrigued. “Well, I’ll keep digging. Heroes like you always have the best stories. And maybe… if you’re lucky, I’ll let you in on what I find.”

You let out a dry chuckle, feeling the heat from her proximity. “Glad to be of service. Just remember to stay safe out there.”

With a final nod, you shoot a web into the night and swing away, the cityscape unfolding beneath you as you disappear into the darkness.

What’s with you and redheads?

 ༻⊰───⋅

Thursday, 10:41 PM - Batcave, Wayne Manor.

On one of the main screens of the Batcomputer, a news report flickers into view.

"—hat we’ve witnessed tonight is nothing short of extraordinary. A helicopter, which was hijacked and rigged to explode, was on a collision course with the city’s power grid. The situation seemed dire, but then, out of nowhere, a hero arrived."

The scene cuts to the video shot by Vicki Vale on her phone. Despite the shaky camerawork, the footage captures the exchange clearly.

“My name is Vicki Vale, and I’m a reporter for Gotham Gazette! I’m witnessing an incredible act of heroism here! The Vigilante—”

“Not the time for an interview!”

“This is history! People need to know who you are. Give me something to work with!”

“Alright, alright! You want a scoop? One question only. What do you want to know?”

“Why are you doing this? What’s your mission here in Gotham?” 

“I’m—I’m here to protect the city. People like you and everyone below deserve safety, and if I can help provide that, then that’s what I’ll do.”

The broadcast returns to the news anchors.

“The footage from journalist Vicki Vale offers an “unprecedented glimpse into the actions of this mysterious figure. It’s clear that Gotham has a new guardian, and their bravery hasn’t gone unnoticed. Though it’s only been a matter of hours since the incident, social media has already dubbed the vigilante 'the Nightcrawler.'"

A still image of Nightcrawler appears onscreen, frozen mid-swing through the skyline, one hand reaching out toward the helicopter.

"While their true identity remains a mystery, it’s evident that Nightcrawler’s heroics tonight have made a significant impact! Move over, bats, there’s a new hero in town—"

Before the news anchor can finish, a Batarang hurles across the room, embedding itself in the Batcomputer’s screen with a sharp, metallic thud. The screen sputters violently, sparks erupting around the jagged edge of the blade as the image distorts. The monitor flickers wildly, casting brief, chaotic shadows before it goes dark.

Bruce whirls around, eyes wide. “Damian!”

"I'm going to kill them!"

“Enough!” Bruce snaps, yanking off his cowl with a frustrated sigh. He pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to stave off a headache, salt-and-pepper hair falling messily over his furrowed brows.

“Start from the top. What’s this about the vigilante?”

Damian, braced against his bike, glares through his mask. “Oh, I don’t know, Father. Maybe because just as we’re about to start patrol, some so-called minor vigilante swoops in and takes over the hijacking we were handling.”

He jabs a finger at the damaged screen, frustration crackling in his voice. “And on top of that, this ‘hero’ seems to have made it their personal mission to mess with my operations.”

“What operations?”

Damian’s jaw tightens as he spits out, “It’s… It’s Y/N.”

Bruce’s shoulders tense as he swivels his head, darting rapid, searching glances at Tim, Dick, Cassandra, and Jason.

“Alright, Damian,” Dick says, pushing himself off the control panel. “That’s a big bomb to drop out of nowhere. We need details. What do we know about this Spider?”

Damian, clearly agitated, rolls his shoulders and scoffs. “When I was assigned to track them—”

“No one assigned you,” Jason points out. “You’ve been on a one-man crusade to follow every shady character in Gotham. It’s practically your hobby at this point.”

“And it’s led me to this,” Damian hisses, slamming his fist against the edge of his bike. The impact sends a shudder through the entire vehicle. “So, if you’re done interrupting, maybe we can actually make progress. Remember the night of the dinner when they showed up, bruised and battered?”

“You’re saying it’s connected?” Tim narrows his eyes, sliding his laptop from the table and settling it on his lap. He flips the keyboard open, his fingers flying over the keys. “If we pull together all the recent incidents and sightings, we might spot a pattern.”

Bruce nods slowly, a deep-rooted fear gripping his heart. The threads of panic pull at him, a sensation all too familiar. It’s a feeling that surfaces whenever his insane, trauma-fueled, highly trained, rebellious sons sneak out—something that’s happened more times than he can count—and it never leads to anything good.

He’s caught in the well-worn groove of dread, like an old record that keeps skipping to the same track. The adoption jokes practically write themselves in his mind, but right now, he's too worried to laugh.

Selina and Bruce had always been a tangled mess of on-again, off-again. 

When they were younger, the chase was a thrill, the romance intense. But when things got serious, the cracks started to show. Bruce was too immersed in his work as Batman, burning himself down to ash to save his city. Selina loved her freedom as Catwoman and couldn’t bear to watch him destroy himself.

Then, one storm-lashed night, everything changed. Selina appeared at his doorstep, Rain streamed off her like tears, and in her arms was a small bundle—a toddler, swaddled tight but still shivering, cheeks flushed and red. 

It had been years since they’d last spoken. Bruce, barely containing his shock, asked if the child was his. Selina shook her head, the sobs barely intelligible as she murmured something lost to his ears.

Not his, he mourned. 

But the connection was there. You were a mirror of his own younger self—the same tragic backstory, the same deep-seated sadness. In the quiet, lonely hours of the night, Bruce would find himself searching for glimpses of your life, his mind wandering to what might have been. You were his child in spirit, if not in blood.

His daughter—if not truly, then almost.

“A solid approach,” Bruce says, snapping back to focus. “Her safety is our top priority. We need to figure out how to protect her from whatever this threat is.”

“But what exactly are we protecting her from?” asks Dick. “We still don’t fully understand what this vigilante wants or why they’re fixated on Y/N.”

Cass steps forward, her hands moving fluidly. 

“Sullen,” she signs.

Tim nods in understanding, his fingers flying over the keyboard as he updates the document. 

“Does Selina know about this?” he asks, glancing up. “Y/N’s been looking more scrawny. They’ve put on some muscle, sure, but they’re clearly neglecting their health. We might have missed other signs.”

Bruce made a strangled sound in his throat. He mentally made a note to call Selina later.

Catwoman hadn't been on any heists recently—good for Gotham, but bad for Bruce. 

Had they been struggling financially? He could easily arrange for groceries or some form of support—after all, it was the least he could do.

“Kid came in with a black eye,” Jason grunts, striding over to his gear. He slams rubber bullets into their chambers with a sharp clack, the sound echoing through the room. “And from what I see, they’ve been holding back on us. We should’ve noticed something was off sooner.”

Damian rubs his eyes in frustration. Guilt eats at him. 

You'd been hiding injuries and sneaking around at odd hours, that much was clear. The Spider inflicted them deliberately, not just to hurt you but to send a message. It was a warning to the Bats that they could make things much worse if they got in their way.

“There was a cut on their ribs. A knife wound. The way it was done, so precise—there’s no way it was an accident or a stray hit. Someone wanted to hurt them, to send a clear message.”

Everyone’s head whips toward Damian.

Dick takes a deep, shuddering breath, shaking his head in disbelief. “She didn’t tell until after that night?”

Damian’s fingers dig into his own arms, leaving crescents of white where his nails press. “They’ve been hiding things from us. I should’ve seen it coming. I’ve been pouring over every encounter, trying to piece together what’s been going on. But there’s something we’re missing, and I—”

His voice catches, trembling with regret. “They must have been too terrified to speak out. It took them showing me before I finally caught on to what was happening.”

Bruce steps forward, his hand soothing over Damian's tense shoulders. “Son, now isn’t the time to blame yourself.”

Damian’s eyes blaze with frustration as he jerks away from Bruce’s touch. “How can you say that? They’re in danger because I didn’t see it coming!”

Bruce’s expression melts, mouth pressed in a concealed white-hot wrath. “It’s not about blaming anyone. What matters now is what we do next.”

“Alright.” Jason grabs his gun and starts loading it with a series of sharp clicks. He slides it into his holster and looks up. “Let’s say we find a connection. What’s the plan? Do we confront her directly or set a trap for the Spider?”

Bruce moves to the Batcomputer, slipping his cowl back on. “We can’t rush into anything. We need concrete evidence first. Confronting Y/N without it could put her in danger and jeopardize our position.”

He turns to Damian, a silent exchange passing between them. 

Damian, on the edge of adulthood and just a step away from graduation, is nearly a carbon copy of his father—save for his far tanner skin and hooked nose. His deep-set eyes are shadowy pools that seem to contain entire worlds, while dark, inky waves of hair tumble over his forehead. His broad shoulders are as solid and sculpted as marble.

“For now, you’ll keep a close watch on her. Protect her if you need to.”

Damian strides toward the Batcomputer, his cape trailing behind him. He dislodges his Batarang with a deft flick, expression set in stone

"Of course."

 ༻⊰───⋅

Friday, 12:35 AM - The Safehouse, Gotham City.

The door groaned loudly as you pushed it open, its hinges protesting against the late hour. The dim light from the multiple screens flickered as you stepped inside, casting long shadows across the cluttered room.

With a weary sigh, you uncloaked, and your suit shimmered as it dissolved into nanotech, reforming into your glasses and belt. Sweat clung to your forehead as you ruffled your damp hair, trying to shake off the lingering adrenaline. You removed the glasses with a swift motion, tossing them onto a nearby table cluttered with papers and gadgets.

Morgan looked up from her workstation, her eyes reflecting the soft glow of multiple screens. Various tabs and data streams flickered across her monitors. 

"Sup. Doing research?" you asked, your voice hoarse from the night’s exertions.

Morgan’s grin widened, though she tried to hide it behind a bite of her lip. "You... could say that."

You slumped into a nearby chair, raising an eyebrow at her. Morgan leaned back, her fingers drumming rhythmically on the armrest. "That was one hell of a debut. The media is already all over it. They’re calling you the ‘Nightcrawler.’”

"‘Nightcrawler’?” you repeated with a grimace. “Not exactly... friendly. I preferred Spidey.”

“Are you kidding me? That’s badass!” Morgan grinned, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. She wheeled back to her desk, snatching a remote and pointing it at the large screen mounted on the wall. The screen flickered to life, and news footage of the event burst onto the display.

As the video played, Morgan leaned closer to the screen “See? They’re eating it up. ‘Nightcrawler’ has a nice ring to it. It’s got mystery, it’s got edge—”

"Oh my god. I’ve turned into the stereotype."

“What stereotype?” 

“The emo Gotham hero stereotype,” you groaned, slouching further into the chair. “Dark, brooding, with a name like Nightcrawler. It’s like I’m fitting into every cliché.”

"Clichés are just classic for a reason!"

Morgan flashed a screen, and an image appeared: you—Nightcrawler—perched on a rooftop, the scene drenched in shadows. The red of your suit bled into the darkness. Your hood was drawn low, obscuring your face, while the city lights below flickered like distant stars in the void.

You squinted at the screen, oddly flattered. "Well... I guess if villains are scared, they’re paying attention. Strike fear into their hearts and all.”

“Exactly,” Morgan said with a nod. “Hell. There are even edits of you on TikTok now!”

"..."

"..."

"...You cannot be serious," you paused, trying to wrap your head around it. “TikTok? Really?”

“Yup!” Morgan’s grin widened as she glanced at her phone, swiped through her feed, and tapped on the tag #NightcrawlerEdits. She then turned the screen toward you, excitement practically bursting out of her.

Clips of your rooftop swings, dramatic landings, and quick takedowns looped across the screen, set to raunchy music and flashy edits.

You watched in shock and slight embarrassment. "Oh.my.god."

Morgan’s excitement only grew as she pulled up another video. This time, the video was a velocity edit. It featured you throwing your head back, straining against a helicopter's weight while Vicki clung to your neck. Your biceps were prominently flexed, and the background whizzed by in a blur of motion and color.

The accompanying song blasted, with the lyrics:

Push me down, hold me down Spit in my mouth while you turn me on I wanna take your light inside Dim me down, snuff me out Hands on my neck while you push it out And I'm screamin' out

Morgan burst into laughter, practically rolling on the floor. 

“This is my favorite one,” she said, her eyes sparkling with tears.

“Oh my god, stop! I do not need to see my own fucking thirst trap!” you groaned, quickly pausing the video. You turned away, face burning hotter than Metropolis's sun, and stared at the graffiti on the wall across from you.

You covered your face with your hands, groaning in embarrassment. “This is not how I pictured my debut.”

Morgan, still laughing her ass off, was clearly unfazed. She scrolled through the comments, her grin spreading even wider.

“You’ve gotta hear these,” she said, her voice barely containing her amusement. She began reading aloud, each comment more deranged than the last.

estellea @ abcdfuckyou・1hr

vicki lucky af. I’d be clinging on too if I were her

jennyjay @ metroboomingpolis・30m

someone give me a ticket to Gotham so I can throw myself off a building and let Nightcrawler save me. no cap 🧢

harry 🐾☕️ @ blehhidc ・1hr

going to become a villain rn. pls choke slam me into Arkham.

ji ─ nightcrawlers #1 fan @ nightcrawler_updates・1hr

i want nightcrawler to smash that helicopter on my tits

Of course, there were the occasional snarky comments but they were buried under an avalanche of over-the-top reactions and sheer, unrestrained heat.

“Hooooly shit!” Morgan howled with laughter. “This one called you mommy long legs─!”

"Morgan!" You cringed, peeking through your fingers. "Stop! I can't believe this shit. They turned my life-threatening mission into a fucking thirst trap.”

Morgan could barely catch her breath between laughs. 

“Alright, alright. Enough,” you said, snatching her phone away. “Enough with the thirst traps! Let’s get back to work!”

Morgan’s laughter died down as she moved back to her spot at the computer, still grinning. “Whatever you say, Mommy Long Legs.”

You rolled your eyes and began to slowly pull off your undershirt. Morgan glanced up, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she maneuvered a robotic arm from the workstation to scan you.

Pepper’s voice crackled through the speaker. “Injuries detected: dislocated shoulder, torn muscles in back and bicep, a cut on the cheek, and minor abrasions.”

The robotic arm paused. “Recommendations: immediate treatment for the shoulder and muscle tears; clean and treat minor cuts to avoid infection. Rest and recovery are essential.”

“More injuries?” Morgan fake gasped, rising from her chair. She gave your forehead a playful tap with her knuckles. “What’s going on in that head of yours? It’s like you’re a magnet for trouble.”

“It’s not my fault!” you shot back, gesturing wildly. “You try catching a helicopter with one hand while some shitty reporter tries to interview you midair!”

Morgan just rolled her eyes. Quick on her feet, she approached the medical cabinet and gathered supplies. The room filled with a soft hum as a bunch of robotic arms whirred to life, their sleek forms extending and positioning themselves around you.

“Alright, superhero, let's get you your fix.”

One of the robotic arms gently secured your dislocated shoulder. Morgan adjusted its settings on a nearby console, her fingers moving deftly over the controls.

“You really need to stop making my job so interesting,” she muttered.

“You’d die of boredom otherwise,” you retorted, wincing as the arm held your shoulder in place. The brief, sharp pain of your bone realigning quickly faded as the shoulder was set back into position.

The remaining robotic arms moved in to treat your muscle tears. They applied a soothing gel and began a methodical massage, easing the inflamed muscles with each gentle stroke.

Morgan glanced up from the control panel, still adjusting the final settings. “I don’t get paid enough for this.”

“You don’t get paid,” you say dryly.

“True,” she replies with a smirk, “but keeping you in one piece is its own reward.”

You raised an eyebrow. The tips of Morgan’s ears turned red and she cleared her throat awkwardly.

Typing in a few final commands, she lingered a moment, glancing at you with a faintly hopeful look. “So, any plans for the rest of the day?”

“Probably just going to sleep,” you said, stifling a yawn. “Deadlifting helicopters really takes it out of you.”

Morgan’s eyes lit up with an idea. “How about coming to Gotham Academy with me?”

“Why? Ugh. Please don’t tell me you want to go to class.”

Morgan shook her head. “No, no! I know the internship has both of us excused for the month, but I need to check out some files on Octavius Burton. He used to be faculty there, and I thought it’d be a good chance for us to revisit the oh-so-magnificent halls of our beloved school.”

You cringed. “Oh my god, I do not miss that place at all.”

Morgan pursed her lips. “You might run into Damian, though.”

You pause.

You thought about it for one second, then nodded. 

“Gotham Academy it is.”

<- PREVIOUS | NEXT ->

 ༻⊰───⋅

voomba sorry for the long ass paragraphs i write shit lore

ur like a redhead magnet girlypop

[metranart]

“May-may I give you a kiss?” You asked, timidly and noticing his bemused expression, corrected. “...As a way of thanking you.... for saving me....” 

Hawks x UA Student! Reader (Part 2)

- Warning tag: obsessed! Hawks, possessive! Hawks, naive! student reader, violation of trust, dubious consent, mating cycles, rut response, obsessive behavior, uncontrollable thirst for reader, manipulation, forced, thigh riding, hormonal minds out of control, sexual content, first time, cock riding, teenage fuck, Dabi's toxically interested in you, Bakugo bestie yet secretly inlove with you, love confessions, cock-drunk, Hawks trying to be good but failing miserably, gaslighting, HEAVY plot, lots of smut. -

“May-may I give you a kiss?” You asked, timidly and noticing his bemused expression, corrected. “...As a way of thanking you.... for saving me....” 

Your timid request took him by surprise momentarily, but soon his features regain his cool, and was quick to nod to then leant down. A kiss on the cheek, Keigo thought it to be innocent enough, not a usual request, nevertheless, a simple one. If this put you to rest, he'll humor you.    Keigo was cocking his head for you to place your sweet lips.... it's now or never, you breathed deeply.... if you were going to use your quirk, now was the moment. 

Two slender hands perched in each side of the Hero´s face and in a firm, straight movement, you cocked his face in your direction, surprise registered in his face, and his golden orbs popped open at the feeling of your lips locking with his. 

  Bold, The Winged Hero thought pleasantly amused, this girl had a savage side to her… the timid, quivering student was gone for sure, and a determined one took its place. Hawks felt a light wave of energy spread inside him, as sudden as the kiss itself realized was taking him more than it should to hold himself back.    Doubtfully, snaking your arms around his neck, the hero closed the distance for your warm body to hang easily from him, when two strong arms help you by holding your waist, Keigo didn’t dare to break the kiss even when his mind screamed for him to do it. The commission is going to be pissed. 

The little lip lock began to grow intimate and you were out in the open, not that he actually cared about those things, even so, a red alert fired up inside his head when you moaned into his eager lips, the exact moment his advantageous hand slipped just a thad under your UA school uniform skirt, as in trouble ahead.... you are fondling an underage school girl in a hidden alleyway like a common PERVERT.    Stop! his mind nagged at him, and you felt him disentangle his hand, but quickly, you prevented it. 

Shocked, groaned at your refusal to then settle back into a cool demeanor. Hawks hummed softly with a hint of a smile; his good sense precariously bruised. 

“...Let´s stop, little one...” Keigo chuckled in between kisses, unconsciously massaging your hips with his thumbs. “I’m gonna get...in so, so much trouble–” he huffed a laugh. You were so tiny compare to him, but, then again, most people were small compare to him.    

“I´m- I'm trying to help.” You attempted to apologize, but he merely snorted. “–By taking off my hands my hero license?” He attempted a joke; your reply wasn’t what he expected. 

“S-sorry about this-”  

You mumbled, and groaned, remembering that the touch needed to be more intimate for your quirk to work properly, and let your lips devour his desperately, but the touch was so inexpert that your quirk seemed still ineffective, all your efforts only flushing your skin and cheeks making it burn bright like the setting sun. Or perhaps it was the embarrassing knowledge that you were going to have to basically sexually assault the hero number two for this to actually work... 

Be brave and do it already! You chastised, and in an act that not even you thought would be capable of doing, you pushed your breast into his hand, easing his strong fingers around your own to help him have a nice handful, his hand instinctively squeezed the plump flesh, and then you felt the unmistakable pull he did trying to gently scramble away, but you refused to let him go.   

His golden eyes opened wide, astonished by your unmeasured actions and the very welcoming way his body was reacting, this was not usual for him...he had control...except when... 

“Surrender, Hawks–” You begged, reaching down a hand to without his permission, began to pull at his belt. 

The power of your quirk started to take effect the closer you got, and for the first time Keigo began to feel disoriented, sickly warm and dangerously possessive.... fear enveloped the young Hero....this was too similar to his rut, but it was weeks away for that to happen. 

"What are… what are you doing-...to me...." he stressed, biting down a moan, and finally finding enough strength, broke the sloppy kiss by taking a step away. A string of saliva the only thing left connecting each other. 

“Helping you.” You promised, one hand searched for his arm, clawing, trying to pull him back to you. "The discomfort will vanish when you surrender...." 

A painful throbbing inside his head began to blind him almost becoming numbing, the more he tried to stay away from you. “Surrender~” Your tender voice, suggested again and huskily groaning, the Hero ended up allowing you to draw him back into your welcome embrace. 

Immediately, you shushed him, balancing on your tip toes to cradle his head to your neck despite the difference in heights. Hawks made himself comfortable in matter of seconds, curling against you, body suffering from incontrollable fits of goosebumps as he straightened again, for his eyes to lock on yours.  

Those two pools of liquid honey shone like molten gold. Round orbs igniting at finding not an ounce of resistance from you, instead, you openly desired him–according to him.  

The lack of control from your quirk can have adverse results on the wounded, especially on persons who have animal traits ... don't use it at that level until you are one hundred percent sure you can master it... You heard Recovery girl's warning in your mind once again, and soon your whole attention shifted to the feeling of Hawks splaying a hand on the middle of your back, perfect pressure, authoritative, the other gripping you tight and then, the hero hauled you into the darkest part of the alley. 

You let him, leant against his chest, enjoying the sensation of being held so close by someone you admired so much. The thrill of feeling wanted by him was somehow intoxicating, not to mention, superbly new to you.   

Golden locks fell over his eyes, jacket unbuttoned and disheveled. Light and shadow dancing across his face in a manner that made him look devilish. Not wasting another second, he aimed for your lips, yet his lips only brushed your temple since you cocked your head away. The Hero hesitated with a low chuckle, keeping his proximity.   

It had been a moment of weakness on your part, nevertheless, you knew that once you had started the process, you must finish it. This was too new for you; you've never had a boyfriend before but that didn't mean you've never kissed or touched a guy, while enjoying of a drunken stupor. After all, you were already in second year at UA Academy, a year away from becoming a full-fledged professional. 

You were the most belated in your entire class, since you had a complicated quirk, but the support of your friends was so unconditional that you had never felt judged. You had frozen against that Nomus but now it was different, this time, you would act accordingly and fulfill your mission. Hawks was going to leave that alley without a single injury to his body. 

“Hawks–” You didn't have to tell him or even finish the request, when he rushed over you to diligently press his lips with yours, and holy shit! This must be how it feels to be with someone experienced. This was completely different from what you were doing minutes ago, this time you felt yourself melt into his warm and strong body while he softly brushed your lips against his, breathing reverence into your lungs like you were his person, his girl, his ultimate and most sacred individual in the entire universe. Now, his wandering touch seemed to be cupping your breast by his own will, tongue lapping at the trails of your cherry lipstick like a mad man. 

Letting him do with you whatever the fuck he wanted and how he wanted, while you indiscriminately released more of your energy for his wounds to absorb like a dry sponge. 

“That’s it. That’s a good girl.” The winged hero cooed, hearing you moan, and he grinned wickedly caressing your waist to pull you closer against him, no gaps this time. He wanted you to feel him above the clothes, his dick was hard. Painfully, fucking hard against you. 

“I think you’re so pretty.” He blurted out, looking straight into your half-lidded orbs. Your eyes widened and you felt your throat dry. 

How you hated this part... the ovations of your beauty, unsolicited declarations of love, the intensity in the victim's gaze while your quirk made them believe you were a real life, Angel. It was all very uncomfortable for you, not knowing if these words hid a bit of truth or were just a byproduct of the situation. 

“I think-….I.....” Part of you wanted to swallow the plain lie coming out of his shiny lips, but you knew the nature of your quirk, all too well, and letting yourself be fooled would be stupid. “I think you’re being highly influenced by my quirk.” You quipped back, making emphasis in the word highly.  

Clinging to his solid figure, your feet left the ground, and his feathers sharpened. Like a predator ready to attack its prey. A subconscious, trained part of him, kept resisting, stabbing himself in the back to gain some control back, but it was so fucking hard. 

After a couple of groaning swears, and him smearing against you more like a cat than a Hawk, the blonde managed to unwrap himself from you a few centimeters, like he couldn't stand to be away for even a second and breathed his next words against the edge of your jaw. 

“I’m not sure what’s going on... but I nee-d....I need–I need you to RUN...” Keigo swallowed hard, breathing through his nose to keep composed. Even your natural smell was affecting him, you could literally feel the shape and girth of his cock as it jumped in his pants, firmly pressed against your tummy. 

“No need,” You breathed out, giving him a tight smile, “I can handle you.” You promised, leaning forward, only for him to lean back.  

A condescending chuckle followed. “You have no idea how to handle a predator, kid... So, do as I fucking say...” The way his gaze sharpened, actually send goosebumps down your legs, even so, you knew you needed to finish the loop, or everything would be in vain. 

So, instead of hearing his helpful advice, you draw near. 

“God fucking damn it.” His voice sounded strain; lips set in a tight line. What the hell!? Didn't you see the danger you were in?! His wings were standing on end and menacing, shuddering with a rush of adrenaline from just imagining pushing you against the wall and having his way with you. 

Tears would fall down your face, yet he would not care because would be driven by instinct, raw and basic, predatory instinct. He would tear your AU uniform with his sharp feathers and sully your soft skin with hickeys and bites, making sure you came at least twice to make you slippery and ready to sheath him, properly, he didn’t want to break you, not yet he liked to play with his prey before putting it on his knees and wreck its world apart. Hawks was sure you were a virgin, so it wouldn't be hard. 

Once he had you trembling and begging, would fuck you with all his might and continue until you passed out, cumming inside you over and over again until you overflowed with his essence, and then would take you to his penthouse where he would keep you, marking you as his precious mate, for life.  

“Kid, I won't be able to ask you again...” he said, flushed cheeks making him look almost feverish “but if you don't leave now... you will never be able to do so again...." He made a meaningful pause, “...that I swear." 

Hawks' breathing came heavy, it felt awfully hot against your sweaty skin. The ragging spring wasn’t making any of this easier.  

“Don´t worry...-it´s my...my quirk speaking....” You mewled, way too sure of your words, “we can-we can...continue until you are fully...fully healed–….” there was no response from him, only the sound of heavy breathing hitting against your warm cheek, “...Hawks?”  

At what point did the hero stopped understanding what you were saying? He wasn’t sure, or maybe, just stop caring? At some level, Hawks just stopped fighting the nagging inside his brain and let his instinct take the wheel. Just for a minute, he wanted to let the animal out. Just a few seconds before taming it back into its cage. So, he let his rut take over him. You said you could handle him, right? 

“Tell me,” Hawks’ voice sounded deeper, raspier almost feral, as it you were facing a darker self of the same man, and the next words that came out of his mouth made you realize how affected he was, for you have never EVER, had such a raw response. “...May I fuck you as your way of thanking me for saving you?”  

COMING SOON PART 3....

⬇⬇ NSFW ART of this story and more MHA NSFW artwork: ⬇⬇

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet-Cute - Zoro's Story - 5

Source for pic

Trouble 5

Word Count: 4660

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Protective!Zoro; Soft!Zoro; Sexual Tension; Teasing; Flirting; Mature Audiences (I'll always tag the NSFW chapters); Modern Day AU; Reader is being stalked; Fear; Paranoia; Angst; Rom-Com Vibes; Mild Gore-like Descriptions; Blood; Dead Animals Mentioned; Reader in a terror-like state; Fluff; Romance; Banter; Manipulation; Miscommunication; Frustration; Reader is very clumsy;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Zoro are slowly returning to your easy friendship filled with banter and flirting and you actually begin to glimpse a future with the green-haired cop. But then you start to receive weird gifts. They quickly escalate to manipulative texts. And now you're stuck in a spiral of terror and there's no way to get help because the Stalker, whoever he is, is threatening something other than just your life.

Notes: Ohhhh, we about to start shaking things up by the next chapter! I'm so freaking excited!!! I hope you like this one, tell me all about it!

Masterlist

“Wow.” When Nami said yacht, you thought of one of those sleek, modern-looking boats. Not a pirate ship lookalike. “This is cool.” You state, still in awe at the monstrous ship you're staring at. 

“It's suuuuuuper cool!” Franky exclaims, more excited than anyone on the dock, and you can't help but agree with him. 

The ‘few people’ Nami mentioned are definitely more than twenty - you stop counting - but you recognize some of them: school friends or some neighboring kids from growing up. Others are Franky’s coworkers and buddies, and then there's an array of people that are friends of a friend. 

Anybody who's anybody wants to be at Franky’s party. 

And Zoro’s going to be late. 

You sigh, taking the steps on the plank that leads up to the ship's deck as Nami shoulder-bumps you. “He'll be here, love.” Vivi stifles a giggle when you groan in embarrassment at being caught. You don't even pretend to be thinking about something else, it's all futile with these girls. “In the meantime, let's get you some liquid courage so you can loosen up when he gets here.”

-*-

Zoro had a terrible shift. He hates doing paperwork. It's all so utterly boring. But Captain Mihawk is always grinding him, so he needs to file his reports or he risks getting on the Captain’s bad side. And that's something Zoro would like to avoid if possible. He’s pushed Mihawk’s buttons more than once. 

He doesn't want to go back to traffic control. 

Still, even though what he wished for most at this moment was to pop a cold one, prop his feet on the coffee table, and pretend to watch something on TV until his eyelids drooped down from exhaustion, he's rowing a freaking tiny boat, to get to a huge freaking ship, to attend Franky’s freaking party. 

Just because you're there. 

And he freaking wants to spend time with you. 

Even though he's arriving at the party two and a half hours late - who the fuck changed the road to get to the dock? - just so he can see you. 

Fucking heart. 

With a grunt and a final sigh, he stops the boat near Franky’s ship and uses the ladder his friend left for him to climb aboard. Much like a freaking pirate. 

Then, after a few ‘hellos’ to familiar faces, he makes his way to the bar to grab that cold beer he was craving before settling against the railing on the upper deck to get a good view of the party. 

He won't even pretend that he's not looking for you. It's exactly what he's doing. 

Somehow, his eye zeroes in on you in a split second. And it's not only because of the fact that he always finds you but because you are attracting attention to yourself. And not only because of the insane flailing of arms you're doing - is that supposed to be dancing? - or because of the way your laughter echoes around the deck. It's not even because you look effortlessly gorgeous in your outfit. 

It's because you're magnetic. 

Your simple presence commands the attention of everyone around you. Men and women alike, but the dudes feel bolder. They smirk and wink, they brush their arms against you and whisper words your way. You brush them all off, turning your attention to Nami and Vivi, but some are persistent. They linger near you, revelling in any bit of attention you care to give them. 

And it's making Zoro feel insanely jealous. 

Also, the fact that you're absolutely wasted doesn't help with your naturally clumsy disposition, so it's only a matter of time before you face-plant the grassed deck of Franky’s ship. 

That, or the idiot following you around like a puppy dog catches you with his filthy mitts, and Zoro is forced to throw hands. 

Which he can't. Because he's a cop. 

“So, I’ve got you all figured out, Roronoa…” Zoro smirks, already anticipating the teasing that’s bound to come, and he turns his attention to his friend.

“I don’t know what you mean, Nico.”

Robin chuckles against her wine glass and tilts her head your way. Zoro follows her gaze and can’t help the involuntary way his lips purse as a growl threatens to escape them. The idiot near you is still trying to get your attention.

“You don’t? Well, it’s quite simple, really, I’ve read it a million times. We follow the lovable female protagonist around, watching as she slowly falls for the male main character, revelling in the little things he does for her… like protecting her…”

Zoro’s eye twitches at the same time you swat the idiot’s hand away from your waist.

“And then comes the male character’s POV… and you know what we find out?”

Zoro sighs, his patience wearing thin and ready to snap. “Do tell me.”

“That he fell first. And waaaay harder. It’s quite endearing.”

The beer tastes more bitter than it should as he chugs it down and places the bottle on a nearby tray. “Meaning?”

“Act on it, dummy. Or are you going to wait forever?”

Zoro’s eye never leaves you. His jaw moves as if he’s weighing his options. Then he releases a heavy sigh. “Fuck it.”

So, clenching his jaw and muttering more curse words, Zoro heads downstairs. 

Just in time to see Nami slipping you another colorful drink. One mystery solved, Nami is the one that got you shit-faced. 

You thank Nami with a smile, but as you turn on your heel, you slip - obviously - and the fucking idiot dares to steady you by the waist. A growl climbs up Zoro's throat, but before he reaches you, you're thanking the man and moving away from his grip. And then your eyes light up as you see Zoro approach, a huge smile replacing the fake one you used for the asshole, and Zoro smirks, his jealousy suddenly gone. 

“Zo! Finally!” Fuck. He gets all weak in the fucking knees when you call him that. Who's the idiot now? 

“Hey, Troublemaker, making trouble?”

“Yes!” You giggle and sway your way closer to him, so he steadies you by the upper arm, ignoring how touching you just makes him want to touch you more. “I'm so drunk!”

“I can see that. Thank you, Nami.” Zoro turns to Nami, who beams and raises her own glass in a mock salute. 

“Oh, right! Thank you, Nami!” You say, and Zoro shakes his head in amusement. 

“Don't thank her, Trouble.” You giggle, and he sighs. “So, am I stuck babysitting you again? I don't suppose drunk you is easier to babysit than normal clumsy you?” It doesn't matter how annoyed he may sound. He doesn't mind babysitting you. 

“What? I resent that, Officer.” You giggle and stumble on your feet as he drags you away from the dance floor and herds you to a lounge chair. 

“Sit. I'll get you some water.”

“Nooooo!” Your nails bite into his arm as you cling to him, and the way your scent envelops him with the proximity almost makes him stagger. “You just got here, don't leave me already. I want to spend time with you!”

Zoro groans as his heart skips a fucking beat. What the hell? 

“I'm just getting you some water.”

“But I already have a drink!” You raise your glass, and half of its contents spill to the floor, missing your clothes by inches, though you barely notice it. 

“I see that.” Zoro reaches and removes the glass from your hand, ignoring your protests and forcing you to sit down. “But I'm going to sober you up before you hurt yourself, okay?” He points to the bar that's just a few steps away. “I'll be right there.”

“Boo!! Party pooper!”

Zoro runs a hand over his face. He doesn't mind babysitting you at all. But he needs to keep his fucking heart in check. It doesn’t help that Robin was right. 

He fell first.

He fell harder.

He just doesn’t know if you fell too… 

-*-

You didn’t know being on a ship could feel so dizzying. But it’s as if the boat is shaking harder with every step you take. 

It can't be all the drinks you've had, can it? How many have you had? It's hard to keep count when Nami keeps shoving them into your hand. 

She said something about liquid courage, right? What did you need that for, anyway? 

With a heavy sigh, you watch Zoro leaning against the bar to ask for a water bottle. It had something to do with that green-haired doofus who makes your heart go wild. You're sure about that. 

“Hey, gorgeous. Can we finish our dance?” Rob Lucci, one of Franky’s coworkers who you’ve met earlier sits near you, wearing a lopsided smirk, and you raise your brow. What does he mean by ‘finish your dance’? You were dancing with Nami… 

“Beat it.” Zoro's grunt saves you from any kind of answer, but Lucci simply scowls at him. You can see Zoro's jaw twitching, and you realise how handsome he really is. “Scram, man, leave.”

Lucci stares at you one more time, but seeing as you don't say anything to keep him there, he calls it quits and disappears just as Zoro hands you the bottle and sits next to you, muttering something you can't discern through his teeth. 

“Drink.” He orders you, and you squint your eyes, trying to look menacing. 

“You're not the boss of me.”

A heavy sigh parts his lips as he closes his eye to keep it from twitching in annoyance. “Can you please drink some water?”

Your smirk gets lost against the rim of the bottle as you comply. After a few sips, you set the bottle aside, your smirk still in place. 

“You know what I've just realised?” Zoro opens his mouth to answer but you don't even let him. “You're a really handsome man.” Zoro's reaction is priceless. The tips of his ears turn pink as he opens and closes his mouth, at a loss for words, for once. “Look at that jawline… and your piercing eye? What the hell happened to the other one? You didn't have that scar when I left…” 

Once more, he opens his mouth to speak, but you interrupt him. “Hey! I'm not complaining, it gives you a dangerous look. Unattainable. Scary. Like… Like a big dog.” You smirk at his dumbfounded expression. “All bark and no bite, though. Like a… Golden Retriever! Oh, no. Those are cute…”

“Oi, Trouble, I'm only going to let this slide because you're wasted.” Zoro's ears are still red, and the way he's getting flustered is fuel to your fire. 

“I am.” A devious giggle leaves your lips as you continue to tease him. “And look at these muscles…” His bicep feels like hard rock as you wrap your fingers around it. “So firm and…”

Shit. 

“I bet you could pin me easily.” 

Shit. You should just stop. 

Zoro's eye widens, and you feel his arm tremble slightly against your grip. 

“I mean… With these muscles? Imagine that, Zo, you could pin me against a wall, trap my wrists with just one hand–”

“Stop talking–”

“... and I wouldn't even be able to move a muscle. You could press yourself against me and–”

“Trouble, stop talking.”

You should. Where's your filter? 

“... I wouldn't even be able to wiggle out of your hold, I mean, you're really strong!”

Zoro closes his eye, one hand running over his face as he takes a deep breath. 

“Are you imagining it?” Your question is innocent, but Zoro's red face confirms it without him needing to answer it. “Zoro?” He looks at you, brow furrowed in concentration, and you can almost see how he's trying to focus his gaze in your eyes and not on your lips. “Kiss me.”

Shit.

-*-

You're trying to kill him. 

That's the only explanation he can come up with. Why else would you be saying these things? 

Pin you? Fuck! The way that image is now running through his head is more dizzying than any alcoholic beverage. 

“Kiss me, Zo!” You try again, and it's only proof his hearing is more than fine. It takes him a beat to find his voice, and when he does, it's raspy and affected. 

“You're drunk.”

“We've established that already. Now kiss me.” You shuffle closer to him, and he gets up abruptly, taking two steps back and leaning on the balustrade of the ship, hoping the crisp, tangy ocean air cools him down. 

“No.”

He answers, and you also get up, swaying on your unsteady legs and sauntering over to him, reaching your hands against his chest to steady yourself. 

A groan leaves his lips as his hand instinctively holds you by the waist to help you stand still. 

“Zo…” 

“Trouble…”

You lock eyes with him for a second before he feels your fingers probing his chest muscles. 

“I mean… They feel rock hard! How do you do this?”

Zoro sighs. Fuck. He's barely holding on to his sanity as it is. 

“I work out. You should drink more water.”

“No. Kiss me.”

“You're drunk.”

You stamp your foot against the deck, and that gesture should be childish and immature, not cute! 

“I know! Kiss me.” The way you dig your nails against his chest through his shirt makes his brain consider how they would feel running across his naked skin. So, he closes his eye and takes a deep, steadying breath. 

“You'll regret it in the morning. You're drunk.”

Has he said that enough? 

“Someone very wise once said that drunken words are sober thoughts.” You quip at him with a very proud smile and a hand landing on your hips. 

His lip twitches upwards, and he lets out a small chuckle. “Nami says that.”

“You can't deny she's wise beyond her years.” You smirk, and he chuckles harder. 

Then someone bumps into you and you stumble against Zoro, who steadies you and tries to scowl at the asshole who wasn't careful but he's long gone. And now you're staring right at his lips, a wistful look in your eyes. 

“Kiss me.”

He wants to say no. He should say no. You're drunk. You'll both regret it if your first kiss happens like this. 

But it's so tempting. 

Just say no, idiot. 

“I'll kiss you when you sober up.” 

Close enough. 

“But I want it now.”

Fuck.

“What's going on, here?” Nami's mischievous voice comes out like a lifeline on Zoro's sinking ship.

“Oh, thank God!” He groans.

“Zoro is being mean!” You pout, and Nami laughs. “He doesn't want to kiss me!”

Is there a shovel that Zoro can use to dig a hole in the ground? Would Franky be too upset if he broke a few boards to just… disappear? 

“He doesn't want to kiss you?” Nami gives him the stink-eye, though laced with heavy amusement, and Zoro lets out a low growl. 

“She's drunk.”

“Drunken words are sober thoughts!” Nami quips back, and you gasp, holding her arm and pointing at Zoro in accusation. 

“That's what I told him! And he still won't kiss me!”

Nami laces one arm with yours and tugs you to her side, the curve of her lips lifting upwards while she stares at Zoro. 

“It's alright, sweetie. If big, bad, meanie Zoro won't kiss you, I'm sure we can find someone who will.” What the hell is Nami playing at? “I know Sanji is all gentlemanly-like, but we can see if he kisses you, how about that?”

The low growl that leaves Zoro's lips sounds foreign, even to him. But the thought of the cook, no, the thought of any other man daring to kiss you is enough to make him seethe. His grip on your waist tightens, and he pulls you closer. 

“She's fine right here.” He warns Nami, trying to convey that her joke is not funny with his actions alone. 

“But she wants a kiss, Zoro.”

“Leave it, Witch.”

“I don't want Sanji's kiss, though, I want Zoro's.” Zoro will not admit to anyone how your words made warmth spread through his chest, but he's sure Nami can see the faint tinge of pink on his cheeks and ears, judging from the way she cackles. 

“I know, sweetie, I know you do.” She shoves another water bottle in your hand and giggles, clearly a bit inebriated herself. “Keep drinking this, then. The liquid courage worked, now sober up and the grumpy man will give you that kiss.”

What the hell is Nami talking about?

“Everyone, look up in the sky!”

-*-

All the urge to get kissed by Zoro vanishes with Usopp’s plea. Turning your head upwards and fighting vertigo, you witness in awe as a different array of fireworks explodes in the sky, casting bright colours above the ship. 

“Zo…” You whisper, hoping he's finding the view as magnificent as you are. “Are you seeing this?”

“Yes, Trouble, it's… beautiful.”

You don't quite know why his voice sounds so raw and vulnerable, but the one second you take your eyes away from the sky, you swear you find him staring at you before looking back up. 

But another loud bang distracts your thoughts, and you pat your pocket to try and find your phone. 

“It really is. I need a video of this.” You can't find your phone anywhere, you're sure you placed it in your pocket… Maybe the other one? 

Nothing. 

Then someone bumps into you again, making you hit the balustrade with a small yelp. You hear Zoro grumble and yell at the person who hit you, but he decides to check on you instead of following them. 

Another beautiful blast in the sky steals your attention, and this time you do find your phone. In the exact pocket you were searching for it. 

Strange. 

Or not, since you're absolutely wasted. 

You finally get your video. Zoro hovers near you because you keep leaning on the railing to try and get a good angle, and you're pretty sure you're giving him a small apoplexy every time you do that. 

Afterwards, you keep sipping your water, but Nami drags you to more dancing and partying, though you notice Zoro still watching your every move, probably making sure you don’t hurt yourself, nothing else.  

After a while, you gravitate towards him again, a smile plastered on your lips and still with a sway to your step. You're still drunk. 

But before you say anything, Lucci, who was dancing near you again, follows you, grabbing you by the upper arm to turn you towards him. You sway more than you should and register a low growl behind you before he smiles at you. 

“Hey, gorgeous, want to grab a few more drinks now? I hear this ship’s got some bunks somewhere, maybe we–”

“I thought I told you to scram, Lucci. She's taken.”

You feel heat blooming in your cheeks as Zoro's gravelly voice rings near your ears. His hand rests on your waist as he pulls you back towards him, and you feel Rob Lucci's fingers lose their grip around your arm. 

“Woah, man, sorry, I didn't know. Thought you were just friends...” Zoro mumbles something between his breath as Lucci retreats, though his fingers still grip you tightly. 

“Taken?” You grin, turning around to face him with a raised brow, your hands finding purchase against his forearms. 

“Well, yeah.” Zoro looks away from your eyes, and you see his throat bobbing up and down. “Figured it was the fastest way to send him on his way.”

“Oh, so it was mere convenience?”

Zoro opens and closes his mouth, but then a giggle escapes your lips as you sway some more, gripping him tightly. 

“You're still drunk, so yeah, we can call it convenience.”

“You're so grumpy, Officer.” He sighs and shoves another water bottle in your hands. “Ohhhh, do you have your handcuffs with you?” A mischievous grin splits your lips and Zoro grabs hold of Robin's arm, who happens to be strolling by. 

“Nico, take over. I can't deal with this conversation right now.” He says, exasperated as you open your mouth in shock. 

“Heeeeey! Come on, Zo, I was just teasing!”

But he's already asking Robin to keep an eye on you as he disappears into the crowd.

“What did you tell him? What scared off Roronoa Zoro?” She asks, amused, and you chuckle but don't answer. Maybe your filter is returning? 

-*-

The party lasts long into the middle of the night, and by the time the ship docks, you're already sobered up, though your steps are still wobbly and uncoordinated. Zoro offers to take you home, since you rode with Robin, and you just nod at him, too mortified to try and utter a full sentence his way. 

Maybe he won't bring up the way you blatantly threw yourself at him. Is it too much to ask? 

But it doesn't take him five minutes into the drive to start chuckling. You don't ask why he's amused, you know better than to walk right into that trap, yet he doesn't really wait for your curiosity to kick in. 

“Why so quiet, Trouble? Are you reconsidering your life choices? Maybe silently vowing never to drink again? Or maybe to stop listening to Nami's advice?”

A groan is all you allow before you hide your face behind your hands. Yet, he's relentless in his teasing. 

“You're a really handsome man, look at that jawline.” His impression of you is anything but accurate, yet it's enough to make your stomach churn. So you really said that to him, it wasn't just your imagination! 

“Kiss me, Zo.” 

Oh, God, that too? A desperate whine is all the sound you manage to make while wishing to disappear into the car seat. 

“But my favourite? You could pin me easily.” He lets out another chuckle. “I wasn't expecting that, Trouble.”

“Please, please stop, Zoro. I'll never drink again, I swear.”

“Oh, I doubt that very much.” And then he laughs. A real laugh. 

That is enough to make you leave the safety of your hands and stare at him, his lips still curled back, brows slightly scrunched, and an easy expression on his face. 

“Was that a laugh?”

“What do you mean? I laugh all the time.”

Shaking your head, you turn fully to him, all previous mortification forgotten. “No. You chuckle, you smirk, and sometimes you snicker. You don't laugh.”

Silence surrounds you as he enters your driveway and parks the car in front of your porch. Then he makes eye contact with you, the semblance of a snicker still ghosting his lips. “Guess now I do.”

You barely have time to register what that could mean before you both exit the car. You're embarrassed at how Zoro has to steady you as you climb the steps because the world is still spinning, but at least you're of sound mind again, so no stupid words will leave your mouth now. 

“Are you regretting the way you behaved, Trouble?”

You stop in front of your door, one hand playing with your keys as you take a deep breath. 

“No. Not all of it, at least. Drunken words really are sober thoughts, I guess.” You whisper, making sure your eyes are locked with his and trying to ignore how your heart is thrumming against your chest.

“All of them?” Zoro's tone carries mischievousness in it, and you bite your lip to stifle a smirk. 

“Yes.”

He takes a step forward, his hand brushing lightly against your waist, a place he touched so many times tonight, but not once did it burn like now. 

“Are you sober now?” He lowers his voice as his eye lingers on your lips. 

“I am.”

“Good.” Zoro leans in, head tilting slightly to the side. “Because I'm going to kiss you.”

You barely have time to let out a gasp before his lips touch yours. Your eyelids flutter shut, and just as you're about to reach for his neck and deepen the kiss–

Beep, beep, beep… 

Your phone alarm starts blaring in your pocket, an obnoxious sound that disrupts the night - and the moment - making you both groan as you fall apart. 

“Are you kidding me?” Zoro grumbles, though without any real bite to his words, and you fumble with the device, trying to make the annoying sound stop. 

You finally manage to silence it, and you giggle nervously. “I'm sorry! I didn't set any alarm, my alarm sound isn't even this obnoxious, I don't know what happened and–”

Zoro tilts your chin up with his thumb and forefinger, a devious smirk on his lips as he leans down again. “Let's try this again, shall we?”

Your stomach flips, and butterflies take flight as your heart skips a beat. 

But just as your lips brush together, his phone starts ringing. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” He complains taking the phone out of his pocket, a frown on his lips as he sees the name. “It's the station, I need to answer this.” Then you witness his expression somber as he paces back a little. 

Just like that, you know your moment is over, so you sigh as Zoro hangs up the call. 

“It's an emergency at the station. I have to go.” You can actually see the annoyance in his face and the slight tinge of dissatisfaction in his eyes. 

“Maybe we can finish this another night?” Perhaps there’s still some alcohol lingering in your blood, because that was very bold of you. 

Zoro is already skipping down the steps, two at a time, but he stops near his car, leaning on the open door and smirking at you in the most devious way you’ve ever seen him.

“Trust me, Trouble, next time I won’t stop. Even if the world is ending.”

You’re still smiling giddily at his words when you enter your home and lock the door. You can’t wait for what happens next.

-*-

Zoro lets out a deep sigh and shakes his head, trying to clear his mind. Setting his phone in its holder, he dials Captain Mihawk’s number and sets it to speaker.

“Roronoa.” Mihawk’s gravelly voice answers after one ring.

“Someone took out his eyes? What the fuck?” Zoro still can’t believe what he heard earlier.

“We don’t know much yet. They had to perform urgent surgery on him. We’ll know more when he wakes up.”

Zoro’s foot presses down on the pedal, still riding under the limit, but barely. “What kind of sick fuck would do that?”

“We don’t know. But there’s a possibility you saw him tonight. After all, it happened at your friend’s boat party.”

Fuck.

“Where’d you find him?”

“A dock worker found him. Wrists bound, eye sockets empty, in shock.” Mihawk’s voice is curt and methodical, a voice of someone accustomed to gruelling murders and grizzly stories. After all, he’d spent far too long in the big city and seen too much.

“Anything else?”

“A note.” A clue. “Pinned to his chest with a nail. It said: ‘She’s mine.’ Nothing else. We’re still running it for prints or other evidence. Sounds like a crime of passion, jealousy, possession, perhaps?”

Zoro’s teeth grind together. Something feels fishy about all of this. Something he can’t quite put his finger on. A crime of passion seems far too simple…

“Sounds like it. I’m about to pull up, talk soon.”

His heart constricts as he thinks of you. It might be just a coincidence, it has to be just a coincidence… What are the odds, really? What happened can’t have anything to do with you… Still…

After spending the night following you around like a puppy, Rob Lucci is found hurt, maimed, with his eyeballs missing?

Zoro releases a heavy sigh and shakes his head again. Maybe he’s reading too much into everything. You’re safe. And he’ll make sure you stay that way.

That’s all there is to it.

Tag List: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @lycoriskalmia @daydreamer-in-training @iloveyoushanks @thegalaxysedge22

|Chapter 6|