#if this isn't enough to work with let me know

[angelltheninth]

Arcane Characters Make Food for You

Pairing: Jinx, Vi, Caitlyn, Maddie, Ekko, Vander, Silco, Sevika, Viktor, Jayce, Mel x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, established relationship, domestic fluff, kissing, making food, teasing

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters

A/N: I already wrote this on my old blog but now is a good time to re-write it.

Jinx knows how to cook pretty well, surprisingly enough. Or maybe not so surprisingly given how she's always the one making things and experimenting. However that also means she might make some really weird meals.

It's something you'll have to deal with if you're with her and might have to develop a strong stomach. She already has it because she grew up in Zaun and ate a lot of different things. For you she wouldn't recommend some of them yet and she will try her best to make something that you'll like. And she won't get too offended if you don't eat her cooking right away.

"I made ya some breakfast, ta-da! It's a little sticky but don't worry, eat your fill and I'll clean up the mess later. Don't look at it like that, it might not look pretty but I promise ya it's so good. I could eat this every day. I hope I'll get to eat it together it with ya every day, sugar."

Vi doesn't know how to cook because she never had the opportunity to learn. The first few dishes are bad, like really bad, almost burn the toast and eggs type of bad but Vi she isn't the kind of person to give up. She'll keep trying until she gets it right.

There have been times where she did burn things and she won't let you eat it since it's not right. She wants you to have the best of the best, even if she didn't. Might get a little distracted when you're in the kitchen with her so she prefers to cook by herself even if you're there with her. Regardless of how many times she gets it wrong she at least wants to learn to cook your favorite.

"Yes, this is burned toast but this time it's not my fault, it's yours. Well you're the one who walked in here looking all cute and distracted me. One kiss is all it takes if it's from you, sweet stuff. Sit down and let me do this right and if you do you'll get something sweeter than this."

Caitlyn knows how to cook really well. She did grow up with people doing the cooking for her however she was curious and wanted to learn how to do it on her own. She's a very hand-on learner, now she can use some of her skills to make you happy.

She gets up really early anyways so she might as well make breakfast for the both of you. The first time she brings you breakfast in bed she thinks your reaction is cute, the way you stare at her, eyes wide and drooling over the food. For her it's not odd to have breakfast in bed. And if you stick with her you'll get used to her pampering you. Be sure to tell her how the food tastes.

"Good morning, darling, I brought you something. See, I didn't just brag about my cooking skills, this is me showing you I can cook. Showing off? Suppose I am a little bit, it's not my fault you didn't really think I would bring you breakfast in bed."

Maddie can cook some dishes but she can cook them well. Her skills aren't anything impressive but they don't need to be because she can get take out too. But she is more than happy to share what ever she makes with you.

She falls back on take out more often than she would like to admit. However not when she invites you over to her place, then she will put her best foot forward. A lot of that is because she wants to impress you hard, but it also gets her to work on her skills either way she wins. She keeps looking at you very intently while you take that first bite. Thankfully she doesn't seem to do a bad job if your smile is anything to go by.

"I'm not weird for watching you eat, it's called being smitten, gorgeous. Anything you do is interesting to me, you know that by now. This isn't empty flattery. I already got you to eat my cooking, I don't need to butter you up at this point."

Ekko isn't the best cook out there, he will be completely honest with you. While he does know the basic things you can't really expect anything fancy. If anything he focuses more on the dish being filling than tasty.

The thing about him cooking for the two of you is that he can only do it on his free time, which isn't a lot. Therefore he wants to make it a bonding activity. A cute date of sorts, mostly in the late evening when the rest of work is done. Sometimes he will try to surprise you but its hard when his living space isn't that big and everyone knows everything in the Firelights. The gesture counts.

"There wasn't much time so it's pretty simple, but at least it's your favorite, Firefly. No, I actually finished the new project, I had extra time to kill. Please, don't thank me! It seemed only right for me to make you something after you cheered me up this morning."

Vander knows how to cook really, really well. He kids to raise, and he was on his own for a very long time, he had to become a good cook. Plus he makes awesome drinks, being a good cook was a bonus skill for him.

He's always the first one to wake up and start the day in the Last Drop and he always makes breakfast for everyone. Not just breakfast but every meal, his kids need to eat a lot, there's always a little left over for later. Even if he feels a little sleepy himself he at least wants to put something on the table. It's the dad instincts in him. And husband instincts, hopefully.

"Don't ya even think about sneaking up on me right now, darlin'. I've got a pan full of sizzling hot oil in my hand, I don't want it all over us. Hugs are fine, I always love ya being close to me, but keep your hands to yourself. We both know ya get handsy in the morning."

Silco didn't know how to cook before he adopted Jinx, since then he's had to learn. It wasn't easy but now he does know a lot and he can impress the woman he's dating. Now when you stay over you can expect good for for your date, and good food when you wake up.

When the dating gets more serious he lets you help him cook, but until then he pretty much does it on his own. Jinx will go nowhere near the kitchen alone, not after that one explosion. He does have a list of recipes that he makes the most. And a few that he made up. Sometimes ingredients are hard to come by so he needs to improvise.

"Pass me the flour would you, love? This time I will follow the recipe, yes, the last time there was a bit too much sugar in there. I know you liked it but it's not the healthiest thing now is it? Fine, call me a worried dad, I know you think it's attractive."

Sevika isn't able too cook that well, she never was, she always liked others cooking for her though. However when you tease her about it she takes it as a challenge. And you know damn well that she doesn't back down from a challenge.

Curses a lot when she messes up, though you can bet that she's not gonna let food be the thing that beats her. When you walk into the kitchen it's a mess which will take a while to clean up. But at least she managed to make the dish this time and it's quite good. For her hard work you give her a very passionate kiss and that just makes her wanna work harder. That's the best reward she can ask for.

"One kiss for at that work, doll? I think I earned myself a little more than that, maybe you on the table instead of all this food. Yeah, I know it's gonna get cold, you're right. Can't let all this hard work go to waste, but when we're done we have to work all that food off."

Viktor doesn't have as much time to cook as he could if he worked a bit less. Not that his skills are award worthy but he can make a few things, at least in his opinion. Give his cooking a chance.

When he was a student in the academy he had to learn how to make quick meals and that is where most of his strength is. Just very simple dishes but he knows how to make them well. There are times when he himself forgets to eat so he makes sure he gets a good meal when he can. If you're part of that that's even better. Having you eat his cooking makes cooking more fun.

"If you think cooking this is so easy then you make it will you, beautiful? Ah so now you like it, I see how it is. I'm just kidding, I love making food for you when I can. But if you want to make it yourself please let me do a taste test first. I promise to be brutally honest, just like you are with me."

Jayce has absolutely no skills in the kitchen unless you need him to fix or build things in there. He knows this too and will admit it right away. Trust him he is much better in science than in cooking food.

That being said he will join you in the kitchen when you cook. He takes an interest in it because the way you cook makes his mouth water. When he learns about what your favorite food is he wants to lean how to cook it. However he does this in secret because he wants to surprise you. Sure enough he's able to get the biggest smile out of you when he presents you with your favorite meal.

"I learned it secretly, all for you, babe. Well I am quite good with my hands and I enjoy working, that was just another excuse to learn. Of course I don't have an ulterior motive for it! But if I did... and if it was kissing... would you kiss me for doing a good job?"

Mel is actually an amazing cook and knows a ton of recipes. Including your favorites of course. Do you really think she'd invite you over and offer you nothing to eat?

It's been a long time since she had to cook for anyone but herself but she's not bad at it at all. She has high standards when it comes to good food specifically because she holds herself to high standards. It doesn't matter how simple or complicated the meal is. When she invites you over and offers to make you food you better believe you're eating good that night. Not strictly food either.

"Beloved, slow down a little, the food isn't going anywhere and neither am I. We have all night. Every time I make food I do so because I want to enjoy a good meal, and you should too. And please be careful, I don't want you to choke, on the food that is."

[henrycangelbaby]

Thinking about John Price and his cute little assistant (reader) who ends up pregnant. 

A/N: Guys i was inspired while scrolling on the john price x reader tag, this legit came to me as a vision and now i have to write it (I plan on expanding on this idea so just stay with me!!!!)

Imagine being John Price's cute little assistant, just the sweetest little thing that John is kinda obsessed with. Like don't get me wrong she is amazing at her job, smart, put together and well organized and John does feel that her addition has been a positive one, taking some pressure off his shoulders and making sure his team is always prepared for whatever they are doing. She is very good at what she does, but that doesn’t stop John from admiring her. He knows he shouldn't be bit, he can't help it, she's young and sweet and a little bit innocent and he just wants to protect and love her all the time. 

In the beginning she was shy, only addressing him as sir and knocking on his door hesitantly whenever she needed to speak to him but gradually their boundaries became less and less. More often than not she works out of his office, whether he’s there or not, he insists on buying her an early lunch when she lets slip that she didn't have breakfast that morning. He has even picked her up from a night out once or twice, a little bit tipsy and calling the most trusted person she can think of that just happened to be her boss. He takes care of her as well, helping her get her makeup and clothes off before tucking her into her bed with a bottle of water and pain killers for the morning. He doesn't mention it when he sees her next, knowing how embarrassed she will be when he tells her the loneliness her tipsy self admitted. 

When she starts to get sick John is having absolutely none of it, driving her home and ordering her to take some time off (he even visits later that night to bring her some soup for her stomach). He doesn't expect her to look so sad when she comes back supposedly better from her “flu”, he doesn't expect to see her eyes shine with tears when he asks “what's wrong babygirl?”.  He sits them down on the couch in his office together, putting an arm over her and pulling her close for comfort. He certainly does not expect her to look up at him with those shiny wet eyes and admit she did something bad before crying that she's pregnant. It’s news to John who never even considered that his girl would be dating (let alone sleeping with) people. When he vocalizes this and she admits that her baby daddy isn't a very good guy, it's over for John. 

Suddenly he's all over her, promising to be there for her, that she can come to him whenever she needs. And he actually means it. Suddenly she’s staying in the spare bedroom in his house, not only does it have more room but John can keep an eye on her. She entirely moves into his office working on his desk with him, he gets her a comfy chair so she can be supported in the later months. He gets up to hold her hair back when she has morning sickness and ensures she gets enough nutritious food each day. When she starts showing, oh my god John doesn't know what to do with himself. That little bump peaking out of her tight skirts makes him foam at the mouth. Of course he prioritizes her comfort, insisting she change shoes and stop wearing those uncomfortable looking heels, but he keeps her in her formal work attire for just a little longer, just so he can see her cute tummy poking out of it. 

Speaking of her bump. He simply can't resist putting his hand on it. He feels so protective over it, best believe he goes feral if anyone tries to touch it. Hell all but breaks loose when his precious baby looks up at him with teary eyes telling him how uncomfortable she was when some rando put their hand on her stomach, (someone definitely lost their job that day). He eventually has her sitting in his lap, cooing over her and reassuring her that they won't get in trouble, that really he is the big boss anyways. He just loves having her there, perched on top of him he rests his head on her shoulder both arms coming around to cradle her now bigger bump. 

John mandates maternity leave when she starts getting big, maybe around seven months when she spends a lot of her time complaining about back aches and swollen ankles, of course he does what he can to help her but it gets to the point where he knows that she should be resting. He has to basically forcibly put her on leave, reassuring her panics about money by promising to take care of her. And oh boy does he. He gives her foot massages and holds her belly, when she starts outgrowing her clothes best believe he would hand over any of his so she can fit in them more comfortably. He's just all over her, unable to stomach the fact that soon she will have a real live baby. That baby is about to become the most protected baby in the entire world.

That's all I have for now because I fear if I begin rambling about the rest of the 141 neither of us might make it out alive. (just know this baby is going to be so damn spoiled it’s crazy). 

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

60 / 3.9k / part 4 of shark mermen Gaz and Soap with human!reader

kinktober keywords: dubcon, monster mermen, monsterfucking, teratophilia, overt predator/prey dynamics, hypnosis/hypnokink, praise

...

Gaz's hands slide back down, and his palms are warm and rough over your belly and hips. It's all he can do not to crush you against his chest and take what he wants. He can't stand how helpless you look.

Soap's eyes are on your legs. His hands nearly engulf your calves. He hooks his fingers under your knees to open your legs further.

You watch them softly, offering yourself to them in your trance.

nsfw ⬇

Gaz watches Soap dip his head and run his teeth over your calves. "Stay still," Gaz repeats. "It's easy to do what we ask. Isn't it?"

"Uhm..." You shift your hips at the ticklish feeling Soap's mouth is giving you.

Soap glances up from your legs to your face. Your eyelids droop, breath steady and body warm. He strokes your leg with his thumb and then slides his hand higher, making a low sound in his chest. "You don't need to answer yet."

"Okay."

Gaz's hands shift lower. His claw-tips brush the waistline of your shorts. "I’m curious. You said before--humans mate for fun just like mer do." Gaz's voice is still low and sweet, and his hands slide up and down your lower stomach. He pushes your shirt up an inch. "How long had it been since you've mated with another human?"

"I dunno." A lazy, obvious lie.

"Yeah?" Gaz's fingers move ever so slowly up to your chest. "Have you never been mated before? You want to know how it feels?"

You look away and watch Soap, who in turn watches Gaz lift your tattered shirt higher on your body.

"Or it's been a while," Gaz murmurs. "Long enough for you to be needy."

Soap, to his credit, keeps his nature in check. As much as he wants to seize what he wants with both hands, he's stock-still. His eyes are ravenous at the edges of your torn clothes.

Gaz strokes the hair back from your ear. You're dimly aware of the cold air and sea spray reaching your chest as he pulls your tattered shirt away. His hands feel so good. Soap leans forward, and his tongue, rough and warm, slides up the swell of your breast and scrapes against your nipple. You jolt. But Soap’s weight in front of you and Gaz at your back keep you where you are.

Gaz studies you as you surface briefly and squirm. He’s enthralled with you the way he is with everything else he can see from the water but never touch. Rare and prized. A human--something he's wanted in his grasp for so long, and now that has you in his greedy hands, he's determined to smudge his fingerprints across every shiny inch.

"Let him feel you," Gaz murmurs, a hand sliding up and under your neck, tilting your head up until his breath fans down your neck. "Let me see."

Soap's tongue drifts down your sternum and against your belly as he lowers his head. You shift. The urge to stir within this pleasant dream grows the more their hands and mouths run over you. It’s too good. Gaz's hypnotic suggestions can't quite quell your body's natural instincts to buck and move with idle pleasure under their touches. Your eyelids flutter. Your limbs are full of mercury, heavy and liquid. Gaz's voice floats over you, and his hands roam every inch that Soap hasn't already covered.

Gaz's hand slides from your neck into your hair and pulls your head back to kiss your open, panting mouth. The movement makes your back arch. Soap takes full advantage. He nips at your tits with shark teeth.

You gasp, hips jerking forward, and momentarily surface from the trance with Gaz's tongue in your mouth, Soap's teeth on your chest, his hands squeezing your tits, and two of Gaz's fingers pressing down on your core through your shorts. You're already pushing your hips up against his fingers, waking up in the middle of the act your body has already acquiesced to.

Your groan of confusion is swallowed by Gaz's mouth on yours. He keeps your mouth open and your chin tilted up as his fingers work you over your shorts. You can’t hide how you respond--your hips move to press more sensitive nerve endings against his claws.

Soap feels your chest push out as you swallow your complaints. "She supposed to be waking up?" Soap mutters drunkenly with his mouth full of tits.

But Gaz isn't shocked. "She likes this," he replies. "Feel."

Soap's hand joins Gaz's, and you feel his thick, rough fingers push against your core alongside Gaz's. You're already wet and responsive. He groans a curse against your skin.

As Gaz pulls away, your hips keep circling and your eyes begin to close again. Your wet folds stick to the fabric of your panties, slick and cold. "Nn, what's happening?"

Gaz looks down at your half-lidded expression. "I'm afraid we're taking our time with you."

"Hard to keep your eyes closed when you enjoy it so much," Soap says. His hands slide up your thighs and back down again like he’s deciding what part of you to touch next.

Gaz's thumb slips down against your core again and presses down harder. You pant and let your head fall back against his chest. You try to remember why you shouldn't be doing this, but it just seems so much easier to let it happen. To let it feel good. They're just curious about you. About your human body. Right?

You feel Gaz's hand slide around your torso again, pulling you closer. He guides your legs open and you feel Soap slot his body between them. His body is so warm and heavy. Gaz rubs you from behind you as Soap's mouth works your chest again, all slick tongue and mouth.

Gaz’s clawed fingertips hook the tattered fabric of your shorts and pull gently. The fabric begins coming off in downy strips. Soap's mouth is on your core before it's all stripped away, tongue lapping at you between strings of saltwater-soaked polyester.

Gaz’s chest vibrates behind you again, and his hands slide over your legs and hips. Soap's mouth works between your legs, and Gaz slides his fingers through your hair and over your shoulder. "How does she feel?"

"S'all soft," Soap mumbles. He slides his hands under your thighs to keep you open.

You wriggle against the odd sensation of Soap lapping circles around your hole and finally sliding in. His tongue is so big and wet. It goes so deep. You feel dizzy.

Gaz watches--feels--your hips moving against Soap's mouth with half-open eyes and parted lips. You grab Gaz's arm with one hand, digging your nails into his forearm in your haze. Your other hand goes to Soap's hair, grasping the wet strands roughly. Soap groans against you. His fingers dig into your thighs and he pushes your hips back to him. He wants more. He wants to pull you against his mouth and work you harder, but it’s difficult with you in Gaz’s lap. He hands slide up to grip your hips.

"Ah..." You feel Gaz's cock emerge from its sheath underneath you and squirm, dizzy. You should pull away, but then you feel yourself tightening up around Soap's tongue. "W-Wait, I can't--"

The plea turns into a cry as an unexpected climax seizes you. You clamp down hard on Soap's tongue, your legs trying to squeeze together despite his hands holding them apart. He doesn't stop. Not until Gaz pulls you away from him to lay you on the gravel on your side, your back still pressed to his chest.

You remember again you should protest. But at what? In his hands or Soap's--it should make no difference. Your pussy felt so good with Soap’s tongue inside it. His saliva is all over your slit, mixed with your fluids, coating your thighs.

Gaz’s lust makes him restless. He wants to leave his mark on you. He nips the shell of your ear, his hand sliding to your hair again. You bump back against his cock, standing ready so close to your pussy. Your hips shy away, but he doesn't let you go far.

He bites and grinds against you. The friction isn’t enough. His hand slides down to your hip, his nails sliding along your lower belly.

He wants you but he doesn't want to break you. He has to compromise. With his hands on your hips, he slides his length through your slippery thighs.

You gasp at the feeling against your oversensitive outer core. You stare down to see him poking out from between your thighs, glimmering with your slick and Soap's spit. He's big. So big. Maybe too much to handle. But you can't hide your real thoughts as he slides his hand lower to rub your poor swollen clit and feel how wet you still are.

You squeak and gasp. Every roll of his hips is going to skewer you, you just know it.

"Gods, human," he growls. It has nothing to do with the shark-like parts of his brain. His chest rumbles against your back, and his breathing is heavy in your ear. You have him so riled up that it's all he can do not to bite you hard enough to draw blood now. "I'd hurt you if we did this," Gaz whispers, his breath hot against your neck. He groans softly as he slides through your slickness. "We'd hurt you, wouldn't we?"

You're sensitive and wet and close, and you don't want his perfect hands and perfect voice and perfect length to go away. "No, ah--! Put it in!"

He grips your waist and pulls you harder against him. "You don't know what you're asking for."

"Put it in, please.” You try to angle your hips back toward him even while he stops you.

He makes a sound of heated irritation. The vibrations resonate through your body and make your thighs clench harder.

"You might regret this," Gaz says. The more you beg and plead the more his mind is clouded by the need he feels.

But the look Soap is giving you. Like he wants you just as badly as Gaz does but in a dozen worse ways. And you know he knows what you're asking for, too.

Gaz must see you looking at Soap, because he snarls and thrusts between your thighs, jerking you back roughly in time with his movements. You cry out in surprise and delight. The gravel bites into your arm and hip, but you're too dazed and ecstatic to care.

"Use me," you pant.

Soap looms closer. His hands slide over your body and he licks a hot path up your neck to your jaw. He mouths your earlobe and his shark teeth graze your neck. "You wanna get hurt, hen?"

"Mm!"

Soap pulls your face up to meet his. It's a chaotic kiss--teeth, tongue, open-mouthed and messy the way he likes it. He can't get close enough.

All the while, Gaz's hands are on your hips, your waist, your thighs. He's biting at your neck and shoulders and growling into your ear. "We don't want to hurt her," he hisses. But his claws leave tiny pricks in the skin where his grips you.

You're lost between them. Soap bites your bottom lip and it stings with saltwater. Gaz angles his hips up to keep himself from sliding inside you, and you moan desperately for more stimulation.

You're so close to having him inside. You know how much he wants he wants to stretch his way inside. And Soap's teeth are on your neck again, his hands exploring, wanting to touch so much of you as your mouth is occupied with his. You're so small and soft, so warm and receptive. He wants to do whatever will make you feel good. He's dizzy with it all.

You squeeze your thighs together around Gaz's length. If he won't use you the way you want, you'll just make him feel good like this. You have to.

Gaz groan of pleasure blows through your hair. His hypnosis was too effective. Not only are you docile enough to let them play with you--you want this so bad it's driving him over the edge of his cratering willpower.

Soap's teeth are sharp and his tongue is warm, and for a moment you just lean back to let him take control of your open mouth. He's got your chin tilted up with the pressure of his lips alone, and his tongue slithers along yours to pull the taste of you from your mouth. One hand comes up to squeeze your jaw, keeping your head tilted forward, and your body is so small—so easy—that it's so natural for his other hand to wrap around your neck.

As soon as his hand tightens gingerly, you moan. Gaz tenses up behind you. Then he starts railing your thighs for all he's worth.

They both feel the moment change. It's like a switch is flipped.

Gaz feels how wet you get once Soap's hand tightens around your neck, and he leans down and kisses you. Gaz's lips graze your neck, too gentle at first, and then the kiss turns into a bite. His teeth sink in, breaking the skin and making you cry out. He empties himself between your thighs, thrusting furiously.

You squeal with pain until his movements grow languid. The sharp pain clears the fog in your mind somewhat as his mouth unlatches from your shoulder. Your neck is stinging, your skin and muscles protesting. Gaz kisses the mark he left. Your hips are going to be sore and covered in bruises come tomorrow. You push on Soap's chest, trying to get your bearings.

He hardly notices your comparatively small human hands pressing against him and doesn't budge. He laps at Gaz's bite mark on your shoulder. He needs more. He pulls you forward into him to press his length against your core.

"Help me help you," he says, voice low and rough.

"Wait, it's--” Your voice wavers. Too big. You think it's too big--he wonders if you really mean it, or if you're just afraid. It's big, and big is dangerous. But you're not supposed to say no. You're supposed to agree. You're supposed to let it happen.

Soap glances up at Gaz with an expectant look.

Gaz looks down on you, laid out under Soap, with dark eyes. "Don't fuss," he murmurs. "You remember why?"

You gasp as Soap ruts against you. Your mind is tattered, buzzing with the desire to lay down and be easy--but just as much with the need to orient yourself, Gaz's hypnotic voice be damned.

"Just lie back and let Soap feel how good you are," he says. His voice feels distant now. Your thoughts are scrambled, and it's still too hard to listen to your instincts.

You arch as Soap ruts again, your struggling turning into pleased overstimulation.

He feels the fight going out of you. It's about time. You need relief, he’s certain. You need someone to make the right choice for you. Soap flips you onto your stomach. His hands are all over you, dragging down your sides, shifting your hips, spreading your thighs. "Such a convenient place for a hole," Soap says, smirking. He circles your entrance with a big fingertip.

Before you can decide whether to protest or not, he sinks his finger into your tight heat. You gasp, pitching forward with your forearms onto the rough gravel.

Soap slides his finger back and forth curiously. He plunges another inch every thrust. You're so wet he doubts you can feel anything but the size of him. You certainly don't seem to mind how big his fingers are. Or his claws gliding past your walls. In fact, the deeper he goes, the more you press your hips back into his hand. His smirk turns into a crooked grin. "Think she likes this, aye?"

"No argument there," Gaz says. He coils in front of you on the gravel and pulls your chin up to look at him. With your head angled up, he sees the flush on your face and the dazed look in your eyes. He tucks some hair behind your ear. Your neck is marked where he bit you. It's not even bleeding, but it's bruised and shiny. His eyes darken.

His teeth marks span most of your shoulder. His hands, too, are bigger than yours. He could wrap the entire lower half of your face in his fingers to keep you in place. To guide your mouth where he wants. The idea is more than a little attractive. "She's so small we can touch everything at once," he muses.

"Think she’d like that?”

Gaz looks at him and smirks. "She doesn't seem to be doing a lot of thinking right now."

You gaze up at him as best you can. Your eyes are half-lidded. You grasp his hand with one of yours, your tongue slipping out of your mouth to run up his fingers.

"So, so small," he says. His thumb and index finger pinch your jaw. "Careful," he murmurs, voice low. "Watch those teeth."

His thumb goes to your plush bottom lip, slips into your mouth, and rests gently over your tongue. You hollow your cheeks. The suction is too gentle to stimulate him the way he'd need, really. He shifts to lay out in front of you and presses down on your tongue to keep your mouth open. "You've got no room for me in that pretty mouth of yours, do you?"

"Ahn?" you reply dimly.

Your pink tongue and tiny human teeth fascinate him. He can't believe something so small and harmless is dangerous enough to have earned you a place at the top of the food chain on land. He's even more fascinated by the way you're sucking on his thumb and rubbing it against your tongue’s rough, warm surface. He chuckles and shifts his hand under your chin again to hold you in place. "No, a little human thing like you hasn't got room for one of us," he says. "All I'd have to do is push a little, and you'd be full up."

Soap groans. "Fuck, yes." He worms a second finger into you and you squeal.

He's careful--he really is. Soap might be a bit rough sometimes, but this is nothing compared to his usual way of doing things. Gaz's eyes follow the line of your throat you arch back.

He looks up at Soap and his smirk turns vicious. "You getting something out of this?"

Soap's gaze flicks up. He adds another finger and you whine. "What, it's a competition?"

"When is it not?"

While they bicker, you bend yourself into position after position to better take Soap's fingers. You finally manage to ease all three in and grind your hips back against him with a heavy breath. You're dripping--not just with Gaz's spend, but with your own slick.

Just then, right as you’re starting to rapturously enjoy all three fingers, he's pulling them out of you and positioning himself between your legs.

Soap puts his hands on your hips and looks up to see the stare Gaz is giving him. "I was playing fair," Soap argues, dropping back into the mer-tongue. "You weren't."

"Watch your size," Gaz warns. "Don't play too much and hurt her. She's small."

"Why? You want another turn after I'm done?" Soap says.

It’s not that. That's what Gaz's eyes say. In fact, he doesn’t much care for Soap having a turn at all. Gaz wants to fill you full by himself and keep you that way.

But his lips stay clamped shut. Soap gives him a knowing, sly smile.

"Don't get greedy," Gaz says. There's bite in his tone. "She’s my catch."

Soap lets it go for now. His attention drifts back to you and all the things he could do.

You rut backward impatiently. "What are you talking about?" you ask.

"Don't mind us," Soap says, grinning. "We're just figuring out how we're going to play with you."

He pushes himself against you and the size difference is enough to make him pause. He could just press you into the gravel without any effort. He would love to use you in so many ways, but he's holding back. He doesn't want to break Gaz's apparent hypnotic hold on you.

You sigh and push back against him. You manage to catch his tip in your folds, but you can't quite make it go in. Soap hisses softly at the feeling. It's all he can do to keep from pushing all the way in to your wet warmth. Instead, he leans forward and plants his hands on the hard ground, surrounding your body with his arms and waiting for you to move.

You try bouncing backward, riding his tip, determined to take him in. You don't fully understand how much trouble that will be until you ease yourself back enough to stretch your pussy as far as three of his fingers had. You glance back to see you haven't taken him all in yet--not even close. Then you feel a strange bump up against your clit and look down to see him sporting not one cock, but two.

"Oh," you say in a distant voice.

"Not too observant for a human," Gaz says. But then, it's partly his fault you're too focused on trying to bury some cock in you to notice they both have two.

Your gasp turns into a long, breathy moan as Soap pushes into you a few more inches. You're slick and ready inside, but you slide your legs apart further, needing to take more but unsure how you'll make it fit.

"Easy on her," Gaz says again. "She can't take all of you."

Soap looks back at Gaz, his eyes dark. "You seem awfully concerned about her all of a sudden."

Gaz scoffs. "I just know you. I know how impatient you are."

You ease back and circle your hips until you've seated him as deep as you can. Then an inch deeper. Soon enough you're rocking back and forth, fucking yourself of on him and making terse, dreamy sounds of need. Soap lets out a ragged breath. It's a squeeze, but worth it. So worth it. How'd Gaz find one that feels so good?

You spread your legs as far as you can to accommodate his girth. You feel air-tight, like it should hurt, but every tiny movement you make sets your nerve endings alight. There's pain in your palms against the sharp gravel, dull scraping against your kneecaps, and an impossible heat burning in your lower stomach. Pleasure-pain glazes your already-distant eyes.

Soap begins fucking you slowly. Not that he holds much concern for your strange human senses and boundaries--it's more that he wants you nice and tame. Gaz notices that hesitation despite being distracted with your moaning and begging and wiggling as Soap spears into you steadily over and over.

"Thought you wanted to break her," Gaz says. He speaks your language to taunt both you and Soap.

Soap grins. "You went to all this trouble to hypnotize her. Wouldn't want to jostle her too hard, aye?"

Gaz smirks. "Don't worry about that, mate. You know there's no way to hypnotize someone who's unwilling."

Your breath hitches. "What?"

You hear Soap smirking as he says, "You aren't going anywhere, are you now?"

He presses into you with a long, deep stroke that turns your protest into a shuddering moan.

"Told you she wouldn't run," Soap says.

After that, you can't manage much coherent thought at all.

...

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / [part 4] / part 5

more Gaz / more Soap / more mer au / masterlist

[gotta-winwin]

OT13 Reaction -- when you ask them for an absurd amount of money as a prank

SCOUPS:

will transfer you the money, no questions asked. unless it's like an insane amount of money - like enough to buy a car - then he'd be concerned and ask why you need it. are you in trouble? are you being blackmailed? what can he do? he's ready to assist you in anyway possible and will be sulky when he finds out it's a prank. relieved, but a little sad that you'd even feel the need to test his loyalty to you.

JEONGHAN:

his immediate reaction is no. have you guys seen that interview where one of the members (i think it was dino? mingyu? my memory is so bad) said that jeonghan doesn't play when it comes to money and it lowkey stingy? yeah that. he'll definitely be hesitant and might even just flat out say no. extremely proud when you reveal it was a prank all along. i knew it was a prank, baby~ the student can't fool the teacher~

JOSHUA:

his immediately worried something terrible has happened. it's uncommon for you to ask him for money, usually its small enough sums that you don't even have to ask - you have his card anyways. stressed and annoyed when you tell him its all a prank. ai~ you know my weak heart cannot take you stressing me out.

JUN:

a little confused why you're asking him for money. he's the type to not catch on, you being in danger isn't the immediate thought when you ask him for 300 thousand dollars. will not react when you tell him it was a prank, the request for the money hasn't even properly computed in his head yet.

HOSHI:

he's going to complain he doesn't have that much money even though we all know he does. he'll agree to transfer it to you, but will whine and nag the whole time that this is his hard earned money! he loves you but why are you taking it away! another type to get sulky when you tell him its a prank and you don't actually need the money.

WONWOO:

ummm...why? he'll ask a shit ton of questions before agreeing, he needs to know why, when, what, where, who? all the details. this is his money after all, he needs to know where its all going. it gets to the point where you give up, just telling him its a prank cause his questioning isn't making it fun anymore. he tsks and asks if you have too much time on your hands to be pranking him.

WOOZI:

the money is in your bank account before you even finish asking. he's lowkey surprised you haven't asked sooner, he's always open with how much he's making and constantly tells you he'd just rather you guys have a joint bank account so he can spoil you. refuses to let you return the money once you admit its a prank. he makes more than enough anyways.

MINGHAO:

another one that's immediately worried. money's never been a topic you guys have ever talked about so he knows there must be something wrong. asks a boatload of questions trying to make sure you're okay and not getting scammed online or something. ends up just chiding you for even falling into a trap where you need that much money and narrows his eyes at you when you tell him its a prank. he thinks you're crazy and has too much time on your hands.

DK:

poor baby's scared. sure he makes a lot of money but he's never needed that much. eyes are popping out of his head when you tell him the sum of what you need. he agrees, of course, anything for you, but his hands are shaking as he reaches for his wallet. dramatically flops onto the floor when you tell him its a prank, begging you to never do that again - he might be rich but in his mind he's got like 5 cents in his bank account.

MINGYU:

blinks. pretends to think about it, but really he's been waiting for this day. the only possibility in his mind as to why you need the money is only for good things, and who is he to not spoil his baby? begs you to take his card anyways when you tell him its a prank. it's literally the only reason why i work, baby. just take my card.

SEUNGKWAN:

he's dramatic, screeching about how that's an insane amount of money and that he wouldn't even drop that kind of money on himself- and he loves himself very very much! calms down and genuinely sits your ass down to ask why you even need it. feels extremely betrayed when you tell him its a prank and vows to get revenge.

VERNON:

he sighs. he knows this trend and he's not having it. baby, you know i'd do anything for you right. you've got me like wrapped around your finger. you literally don't need to test my loyalty. apologizes when you get sulky over him already knowing the prank and offers to let you try again - this time he'll play along. ohmygod that's a lot of money are you being blackmailed? shopping in the black market? getting us a house in Bali? shrugs when you complain about his reaction being ingenuine and over the top. there is only so much he can do.

DINO:

his jaw is dropping at how large the sum is. yeah, he's got that money, and he'll show you his bank account just to prove it. but he'll start listing out what everything is for. that sum's set aside for our house, that one's to send our kids to school - we never said how many we'd have but i set aside enough to four university tuitions, and- you'll cut him off cause he's going to make you cry with how thoughtful he is. scolds him for ruining your prank. prank? he's confused. what do you mean prank? he got so invested in telling you everything he's saved up for your shared future he kinda forgot the original question.

[raeinyourdreams]

'call it what you want.' | l.h x reader

pairings: logan howlett x sway!reader

tags: fluff, no established relationship but.. there's something there, mutant!reader (they call her sway due to her mutation.. i love her i wanna talk ab her someone PLEASE ASK AB HER), AFAB reader, she/her pronouns used for reader, no specific petnames for reader (just bub and her hero name.. gets called kid like twice), no use of y/n, written with x1/x2 logan in mind... sigh... save me x2 logan.. anyway, he gives reader his dog tags before a mission in case he.. you know.. so maybe angst? but only til the very end.

wc: 2k!!

a/n: OKAY SO BOOM! this is my first actual work that's not a drabble and i'm so anxious to post AAHHH, i got the inspo from a post i saw a while ago while fried as fuck from someone requesting a fic ab logan giving reader his dog tags, pref fluffy and angsty so i hope i did ur vision justice OP!! tysm for inspo, my reqs are always open 🫶🏻 also i know this is a very burnt card but if something in the wording is off lmk PLEASEE english isn't my first language 😭 anyway enough yapping plz enjoy!! any type of interaction is appreciated

'just know these are yours now.'

you've never seen him without his dog tags, he never took them off, not ever since the first time he came into the mansion. you'd been there the first time, you were a teacher in the school, and you'd seen him occasionally roam the halls and stay by the door, listening in on your class, quietly. but very rarely interacted otherwise, just a simple nod or a 'good morning' that he'd return out of good manners, but he'd mostly keep to himself.

you're a teacher. you're the fun teacher. at least that's what your coworkers seemed to agree upon, seeing how your students appeared to leave your classroom more cheerful than they entered. you'd be lying if you said you didn't use your mutation as an advantage in this situation, being able to read your students' moods every day, how they were feeling and why came insanely handy, especially when it came to giving each student the type of care they needed. which is why you were also a student counselor.

on the days you didn't teach, you'd put that psych degree to work and counsel. in your classroom filled with drawings and fairy lights and stained glass that looked straight from a fairytale, and a door you'd lock for privacy as a student came to confide in you.

obviously despite your title, it wasn't only students who'd come to your office to let a feeling go, teachers too, needed a space to blow off some steam, cry a little sometimes, because they knew you'd soothe them in the end, touch your hand feel the pain dissipate, make it seem as if they'd never felt that way.

up until now, only teachers and students seemed to come to you for help. teachers. and students.

so it did surprise you when the wolverine started showing up in your office after coming back.

"must be tiring. to handle others' emotions like your own all day." he'd say, sitting down on a chair, to which you'd playfully roll your eyes and shake your head. "i don't treat them as my own, i just do what i have to do so they feel better." you'd reply, walking towards the door to lock it out of policy. figured that he was here for counseling as well.

"you treat everyone with so much care it seems like it." he said, which made you stop in your tracks, turning heel to face him, your hair cascading on your shoulders and moving ever so softly as you spun. before you could speak, stunned, he asked again.

"don't you get tired? i mean mentally. it must take a toll on you to be around so many emotions all the time." the way he seemed to read you stunned you, he seemed like a very gruff, cold person from the brief interactions you'd had with him before. truth be told, this was the closest you'd been to logan since he came back to the mansion. it's what other people thought of him, anyway.

but you weren't other people, you were different.

the feeling in your body when you perceive others emotions is strange. you could never put it into words. your mutation was mostly contact based, a small brush of the hand was enough to let you know that person's feelings, the reason behind them, what they needed to feel better and it made it easier to help everyone. you could, however, see and feel the emotions, sometimes even smell them if they were too strong, no need for contact necessary.

with logan, you almost didn't need to be in the same room as him to feel the amount of physical, mental, emotional strain he was constantly under, his superhuman body subconsciously tuning it out, making him oblivious to it. once, after a very dangerous mission, he isolated himself in his room for days, his expression cold and unfazed, but every time you'd walk past an area he was in, the emotions hit you like a truck. so strong you even cried over pain that wasn't yours, a life you hadn't lived.

you looked at him sympathetically, taking a deep breath to concentrate less on the seemingly invisible fog around you two as you sat on the chair, your expression calm and collected. "i'm okay, i promise. thank you, logan."

"like hell you are." "neither are you."

he stays quiet at your retaliation, a weak smile forming on his lips, letting you understand that you were right, not that you needed confirmation.

sometimes, when emotions overpower you, you feel compelled to speak, give words of reassurance, even if you didn't quite know if they'd help or not. "logan, you should let people into your heart, stop living in fear.." you blurted out, unsure of why you were telling him this, but you'd learned to not question it and just speak, because it helped to just hear the words sometimes. it certainly did get you a reaction from logan, as the overbearing feelings you were perceiving faded.. briefly, before they slowly crept back into vision.

it was the faintest of reactions, but a reaction at least.

he nodded, taking in the words silently, as if he were contemplating. you remained stoic, analyzing his demeanor out of pure habit. "did.. you come here for counseling?" you asked, suddenly aware that you were still working, and you weren't even sure if he was here for another reason, or if he did need your help. instead, he shook his head, looking at you as if he were conducting an analysis of his own.

"nah, just came to see you.. sway."

a knock on the door interrupted the brewing tension, a gloomy, childlike presence behind the door, to which you looked at logan apologetically. "i'm sorry logan, i have a student to attend.. but think about what i said." you spoke softly, your warm voice reverberating in his ears like a hug.. something he longed for but couldn't bring himself to ask.

you started seeing him around the classroom more, or rather, he started seeking you out more. in between breaks, before his training, during counseling. it got to a point where your children started greeting him hello and goodbye if he was in the classroom, interacting with him, playing with his hair, always styled like kitty ears. the way he just smiled and let them made something in you bloom, a feeling you couldn't recognize in yourself, but it was pink and warm and fuzzy all over. you couldn't help but wonder if he felt about you this way, too.

slowly, you noticed how, little by little, the gloomy cloud surrounding him would go away when he entered the classroom, how it would be replaced with a pink haze when he looked into your eyes, or made you laugh.. it would quickly fade away, but you'd notice, and noticed how much it resembled that feeling inside you: pink and warm and fuzzy all over.

as time went by, you got used to seeing him around, swinging by your classroom as if it was his haven, a small break from the world he knew, because you were in it. you'd be lying if you said he didn't make you day too, the gloomy atmosphere that once came along with him every time he entered your classroom slowly changing into a lilac haze.

one day, he showed up as the kids were leaving for the day, no colored cloud, but something seemed off. you invited him to sit down as he locked the door after getting in, his expression serene. before you could even speak his hands were on you, pulling you close to him in a hug, and you swore you could feel him shaking slightly. the realization hits you like a bucket of cold water and you just hold him tighter to you, since it feels like the only correct thing to do.

"you're scared."

"no one gets to see me like this, so feel special." said he, almost as if he was confiding a secret in you, which he was.

"oh, trust me, i feel quite special." you replied jokingly, which caused him to let out a chuckle, though it was dull and almost no feeling was tied to it.

you two let go and you asked him what was wrong, and he opened up like it was routine.

"i leave tomorrow. there's a mission out of state and they're asking me to go.. might be off the grid after that for a while." he explained, his voice remained calm but his eyes seemed to reveal to you more of how he was actually feeling.

"i dunno.. thought someone should've known in case.. things go south." your expression changed at that, and logan noticed. "ah, c'mon bub, change that frown, it's just reality. sure, i might be a piece of work to kill but it doesn't mean i can't die."

the silence that fell upon the classroom as you two finished speaking made the words fall with more weight into your heart, it did little to nothing to comfort you as you came to terms with what he said. it shouldn't have been hard - he was just stating a fact -, but it didn't mean that it didn't cut deep for you. you opened your mouth to speak, unsure of what you were even going to say, but he quickly cut you off.

"logan-" "listen, bub, you told me to start letting people into my heart.. i'm letting you in."

slowly, his hands went to unclasp the chain that always dangled on his neck, dog tags adorning his neck with his names, his identities. you looked in awe as he held them out to you. "gimme your hand, kid." and surprisingly, you did as you were told, holding your hand out as he placed the piece on your hand, feeling the cold metal clink softly as it fell and heat up under the temperature of your palm. you looked up at him, unsure of what it meant, of what this changed between you two, but it felt undeniable, even if unspoken.

“now, these.. they’re very special, bub. a reminder of everything that happened that led to here.. and it’s leading me to you right now.” he explained. “feels right for you to have them, i guess.. keep them safe, kid.”

the silence that fell between you two again was more comfortable, filled with a newfound tension that left much to question, but it didn’t feel right to interrupt with all that noise yet. the only sound filling the room was the breathing and a faint humming of the white noise machine you kept in your room, next by the door. you opened up your mouth again, your mind utterly blank and filled with thoughts and questions at the same time, unsure of which one was going to breach through your mind to materialize out in the cold, tense air.

“.. why me? trust me, i’m flattered, but i’m no one special, logan..” you questioned, and it made him frown.

“you are special. you're special to me.” your eyes widened at the confession and you watched as a soft smile settled on his face, one that made your heart flutter with the sheer tenderness he held in his gaze. “call it what you want.. just know these are yours now.” he said it so calmly, you wouldn't have tought he was handing you his heart, placing it in soft, tender hands and pleading you to not break it, not change it, and instead embrace it and accept it as it came, rough around the edges.

with that, he stood up from the chair, took your hand to squeeze it briefly, and walked out of the room, not before looking back at you one last time, the heaviness that he carried as he entered the room seemingly gone, all that you could perceive was a haze, all too familiar, one that left as quick as it came as his eyes met yours.

pink, warm, and fuzzy all over.

additional author's note: BOOM SHAKALAKA I POSTED FINALLY!! i think it's a little rushed BUT!! it's cause i have a (smutty) part 2 planned for this HEHEJEHE i don't like writing (or reading) series bcs i get sad when they end but i just might.... hehehe... anyway pls lmk what u think!! or i kill off logan 🥰🥰 your choice 🥰🥰

taglist: @allen-444

[willowsnook]

He isn't you

salami, swiss cheese, and white bread please <3

joe burrow x gf!reader

he isn't you

The easiest thing about dating Joe Burrow was that he wasn’t the possessive type. Some girls liked that in a partner, but you found it suffocating. You didn’t need him to mark his territory; your connection was clear without that.

This dynamic was perfect for your busy life as an ESPN reporter. Covering college football meant you were often on the road, but Joe was fully supportive. When you were both home, you made time for each other, and when you weren’t, you checked in often enough.

One quiet morning, you felt Joe wrap his arms around you from behind as you cooked scrambled eggs and sausage for breakfast.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he mumbled sleepily.

You turned to smile at him, giving him a quick kiss. “Hi, Joey.”

He grabbed coffee for both of you. “What’s on the agenda today?” he asked.

“We have a new guy filling in this week,” you explained. “So, a longer prep session.”

“Someone you know?”

“No, he’s from a smaller affiliate, so we haven’t crossed paths.”

After breakfast, you kissed Joe on the cheek, grabbed your coffee, and headed out the door to the ESPN office. There, you were set to meet the new colleague, Harrison.

Outside, you spotted a man with curly brown hair and green eyes waiting by the door. “Are you Harrison?” you asked, shaking his hand as he smiled warmly.

“Yes, nice to meet you!” he replied cheerfully.

The day flew by. Harrison was easygoing, and you enjoyed discovering you had mutual friends and had even attended rival high schools. That evening, you told Joe all about your day and your new colleague.

“...I’m looking forward to working with him this weekend,” you finished, noticing Joe’s slight frown as he poked at his food.

“Awesome,” he murmured, not meeting your eyes.

“Are you okay?” you asked, sensing his mood shift.

“Yeah, just tired.”

“Was practice hard today?” You asked, taking another bite of your dinner. 

“A little,” he said, subconsciously digging into his shoulder muscle. 

“Let me give you a massage after we clean up then,” you offered and he smirked. “Just to help you relax.”

“I can think of another way you can help me relax,” he flirted, and you rolled your eyes and laughed.

-----------------------------------------------

The next Monday, Joe was not happy as he scrolled through his Twitter feed, having been tagged in tons of tweets about you and your colleague Harrison. 

“User1: Wow, the chemistry between Y/N and the new guy is unreal. Are we intruding?” “User2: Wonder how Joe Burrow feels watching his girlfriend get ‘rizzed’ on national TV.” “User3: Joe took two Ls this weekend: losing to the Eagles and seeing his girl flirting with her colleague on air.”

Joe knew you hadn’t meant anything by it, but watching those clips felt like a punch to the chest. He decided he’d stay out for the night, texting you that he was still with the team and might crash at Ja’Marr’s. You frowned, confused, knowing he’d been home just an hour earlier. His texts had been scarce all weekend, and his silence stung.

Y/N: Is something wrong? Are you mad at me? JB: It’s fine.

Something was definitely off, but he wasn’t ready to talk. Trying to shake off your worry, you settled in for the night alone.

-------------------------------------

The next morning, you buried yourself in work to distract from Joe’s cold shoulder. Harrison popped by your office, noticing your downcast expression.

“Everything okay?” he asked, taking a seat across from you.

“Joe’s mad at me, but he won’t say why,” you sighed, recounting the strange tension between you and Joe.

Just then, Joe appeared at your door, his eyes narrowing as they fell on Harrison. As you introduced them, Joe’s handshake was noticeably firm, and Harrison shot you a wide-eyed look.

You looked from him to Harrison, and it all was finally clicking in place, which instantly made you giggle. 

You smiled sweetly at Joe. “Oh, I was just telling Harrison that it’d be nice to have him and his partner David over for dinner sometime.”

Joe’s hand went slack, his surprise evident. “Yeah... that’d be great,” he stammered, dropping Harrison’s hand, relief settling over him.

The tension dissolved, and you couldn’t help but chuckle as Joe’s jealousy melted away, leaving him sheepish.

After Harrison left, Joe lingered around you in the office, quieter than usual but clearly wanting to say something. You leaned against the desk, watching him nervously run a hand through his hair.

Finally, he sighed. “Look, I know it’s stupid, but seeing you with him… I couldn’t help it. Watching people online talk about how good you two looked together…” He trailed off, his expression softening as he took your hands in his.

“Joe,” you said gently, squeezing his hands, “I like Harrison as a colleague, and he’s a great guy, but he isn’t you. No one could be.”

He smiled then, a hint of his usual confidence returning as he finally seemed to believe it.

You stepped closer, wrapping your arms around him. “You’re the one I come home to,” you murmured. “The only one.”

He pulled you in tightly, his voice quiet as he admitted, “I know. I just… needed to hear it.”

With the last bit of tension fading away, you leaned up, pressing a reassuring kiss to his lips. He wasn’t possessive by nature, but every now and then, a reminder didn’t hurt. And maybe you didn’t mind giving him one.

[thezombieprostitute]

What's Mine

Summary: Bucky pushes you too far and decides to explain how your situation works. Or doesn't.

Word Count: ~2.3 k

Warnings: Dark Fic, Implied dub/non con, Power imbalance. Please let me know if I missed any.

Previous Part

It's been a few months since Bucky "claimed" you. He followed up on his promises of taking care of you. You frequently woke up to some surprise gift or another. One day it was a fully stocked kitchen. Another day it was the leak in the bathroom sink getting fixed. More than a few times it's been jewelry with his initials on it.

And all it cost was letting him use you. You swear a piece of your soul dies every time he makes you cum. Every time he coats you in his semen. Every time you match his fervor. It might not be so bad if he didn't gloat every time. That damn smirk haunted your dreams. Or was it nightmares? What was the difference anymore?

It had definitely affected your standing in the community. People were scared to interact with you. Fewer parents brought their kids to the library when you were there. Ruth and her friends had no problems calling you all sorts of degrading things under their breath. You definitely caught them giving you the evil eye more than a few times.

Part of you suspected that if you'd quit trying to fight him he'd lose interest. He liked when you were in a fiery mood. If you could just give in, give up, he'd likely stop using you. But you couldn't help yourself. You hated him. You hated yourself for enjoying the pleasure he gave. That hate needed an outlet.

You pull into your driveway, no longer surprised to see Bucky's bike there as well. You sigh, wondering if you can talk him into to leaving. You're exhausted. Walking into the house you don't even have a chance to take your jacket off before Bucky is on you.

"Bucky, please no. I'm just too tired."

He chuckles, "don't worry. I'm just really happy to see you. We're going out tonight."

You sigh, "I'd rather stay in."

"Then that means you have the energy for me all night."

"Ugh, fine. Where are we going?"

"I've got you an appointment at the tattoo parlor."

"WHAT?! I hate tattoos! I can't get any!"

He smiles as he growls at you, "you're going to get a tattoo just for me. No one else is going to be able to see it, but we'll know it's there."

"Isn't the jewelry enough of your 'ownership'? You even got me a brooch for my cardigans with your initials!"

Bucky licks his lips, "it was just the beginning, Doll. So far everything I've done to mark you are things that can wash away or heal up. This is the next step."

"I refuse," you declare, crossing your arms.

"Fuck, Doll, you're getting me riled up." He puts his arms on each side of your head, boxing you in against the wall. "And you're getting that damn tattoo. We can either go now, while you're still cleaned up, or after I've fucked your brains out and you're a cum covered mess."

"Fine," you drop your head. "Let's go to the tattoo parlor."

"Not yet." He grabs you chin and makes your look at him. "You need to thank me, first, Doll."

Bile rises at the back of your throat. "Thank you for letting me preserve my dignity."

He laughs. "Give me another," he taunts, using the same voice as when he's telling you to give him another orgasm. You hate yourself for the involuntarily clench your pussy does.

"Thank you, Bucky, for...for introducing me to Bunny. It is nice to have a friend." A friend who understands how fucked you both are, you think.

That gets a more sincere smile on his face. "It is important to me that you know my best friend and his girl. I'm glad you're good to them. Bunny is gonna need you when she's pregnant."

"What are friends for," you dryly reply.

"That's my good girl, Doll."

The tattoo is pretty much what you expected. His initials, right over your heart. If you wore anything low cut, it would be obvious. You were sure that was the point: can't even show a hint of skin without reminding everyone who it actually belongs to. At least it wouldn't be a problem at work, given you always dress conservatively.

By the time you're home Bucky is practically salivating at the memory of the tattoo on your chest. He might be eager to see this permanent mark of his claim on you but at least he's willing to follow instructions for proper care so it doesn't scar or make you sick. You made sure to thank him for that, knowing he likes to hear it, and he reiterates, "I take care of what's mine."

"Any chance I can just get some sleep tonight? I wasn't lying when I said I was tired."

"I'm all worked up, Doll."

"I thought you take care of what's yours," you snap back. "How is keeping me awake, not letting get good sleep, taking care of me?"

He grips your chin and gives you a thoughtful look. "I suppose you're right," he admits. "Even a vibrator's batteries gotta recharge every so often, right?" You roll your eyes and he grins. "But I'm going to hold you all night and when you wake up, it's on. I know you don't work tomorrow."

"Is that why you helped with my budget? So I'd have more free time to be your personal toy?" You can't fight the fire in your voice. You're tired, yes. Tired of being so angry all the time.

"Aww, you admit you're mine," he teases.

Unable to hold back any longer you smack his face. "I have never been so angry or tired as I have been since you showed up. You want to take care of me? You want me to be yours? Treat me like a fucking person!" Tears are pouring out of your eyes, the stress and frustration of the months finally finding a kind of release.

Bucky glowers at you and grabs your throat with his metal arm. "You shouldn't have done that, Doll."

"I don't care anymore," you croak.

That seems to catch him off guard as his hand loosens and his face softens.

"Oh, Doll," he shakes his head. "You really should've said something sooner." You squeeze your eyes shut as more tears start falling. He removes his hand from your throat and brings you in for a hug, causing you to cry even more. He pats your hair and coos, "there, there," until you can't cry any more.

"Let's get you to bed," he says quietly.

"I...I don't...I don't understand."

He gently lifts your chin, "you know, before Bunny ran, I tried to warn Steve he was being too controlling. That she was going to bolt. He didn't listen and, sure enough, she escaped. Wouldn't surprise me if she continued to try because he hasn't learned to loosen his grip. I don't plan on repeating his mistakes. Yes, you're mine and you'll never be rid of me. But that doesn't mean I can't be benevolent."

You sniffle as your brain tries to comprehend the sudden change in his demeanor.

"Now lets make sure that tattoo is properly cared for," he says with a soft kiss to your forehead.

"I...I hit you," you stammer.

"You're over-stressed and tired," he shrugs. "If I thought you were doing it just because you wanted to hurt me, yes, there would be repercussions. But I've apparently been overworking my poor Doll, so I'll forgive that one smack." His tone at that last part implies any more attempts to lash out at him will be punished.

"Thank you, Bucky," you murmur as you hang your head.

"Mmmm. That's more like it. Now let's get you to bed and tomorrow we'll work on your communication skills."

You wake up feeling like you're hungover without having had any alcohol. The delicious smells of breakfast lure you out of the bed, even though you dread meeting the cook.

Bucky's shirtless and smiling as he works. If you were in anything close to a healthy relationship you'd smile at how happy he is. Instead you keep your head down, trying not to think about that metal hand wrapped around your neck. About how those muscles feel pressed against your back, or on top of you.

He sees you and gestures for you to sit at the table. He brings you a plate of breakfast, a mug of coffee and kisses the top of your head before sitting across from you. You don't eat right away like he does, lost in your confusion about this change in behavior.

"Eat, Doll," he orders. "I didn't stock your kitchen and cook this up just for you to let it go cold."

"What is going on?" your voice is barely above a whisper.

"I'm taking care of my girl," he answers, nonchalantly. You look at him like you've never seen him before and he sighs. "Eat, or I will force it down your throat."

You grab a slice of the toast and start chewing. "Thank you, Bucky," you grumble and he nods in his approval.

"One of the differences between me and Cap is that I know I'm a monster," he tells you between bites. "He likes to think we've done all of this to keep his girl safe and give her the life she always wanted. I know better. But we've been best friends since we were kids. Ride or die, you know? So I'm always going to have his back. I've just made peace with the fact that it means ruining lives."

"You never tried to talk him out of it? Out of taking over an entire town?"

He shakes his head. "Steve's the kind of guy who can never be talked or distracted from his goal. One of the things I find endearing about him."

"So, he gets you all to take over everything here and you, what? Enjoy the spoils?" Feeling the bile rise at the back of your throat, you go for another slice of toast to try to settle your stomach while keeping Bucky happy.

"It's a balance," he grins. "We take over and just start doing whatever the hell we want, a lot of people are going to die trying to get rid of us. So we set up some rules for our men. People will remain upset, of course, but they're less likely to 'rise up' so long as we have a level of restraint. It's, honestly, the biggest part of my job as Cap's second."

You think on this for a minute, mindlessly eating. "I get why the town, but why me?"

He shrugs, "I needed the stress relief. It ain't easy keeping a crew in line and I was initially just hoping for a quiet spot to read to calm down. Then I started watching you. Saw you expertly handle all kinds of difficulties. When you snapped at me, I figured, like me, you could use some stress relief."

"Stress relief?!" He gives you a look that has you clamming up.

"And fuck you were so good," he muses. "That first photo is still the background on my phone." Heat rushes to your face. "I decided to go ahead and keep you as mine. You're not only a good fuck, but you were quick to befriend Bunny. Everyone else who sees her with Cap has decided to avoid her. Something I know you've been experiencing, even though you haven't told me." You look down, unable to say anything. "I honestly thought you liked the rough treatment and was happy to give it, but I'm guessing we hit a limit for you."

"You branded me," you snarl.

"No, I got you a tattoo. Branding is something else and would've hurt you a lot more." His tone is stern and you return your attention to your food. "You've played a critical role in helping me keep things under control. Plus, since you're my girl, you get some privileges and protections. You think Steve would've beaten up Walker for some random librarian? No. But for his best friend's girl? That's another story."

"So, you're just going to keep using me?"

"Yes," he nods. "And now that I know more about your limits, I'm less likely to get stabbed in my sleep."

You look at him, aghast, "that's why you never stayed the night before?"

Bucky chuckles, "so smart. I love it. And now that you have more information, hopefully you're smart enough to put the rest of the pieces together."

"If I hurt you, Steve drops everything to find and kill me. Probably painfully." He nods. "If I make you angry, you're likely to take it out on someone who doesn't deserve it or you lose control of your men for long enough that they hurt someone who doesn't deserve it." He nods again, smiling at you. "And if I stop playing along like everything is okay, it's another sign to the townsfolk that might set them over the edge and have them shooting, getting hurt, or worse."

Bucky finishes his breakfast, nodding at your conclusions. "God, I love that you're so smart. Makes a lot of this so much easier." You start sniffling and he reaches across the table to gently grip your chin. "I get that this is a lot to take in, Doll. But I know you'll make the right decision. If you really didn't care about this town, you'd have left when you only had a skeleton budget. You're willing to work yourself to the bone to take care of these people, you're willing to be mine to keep them safe."

"I can't say 'no'," you whimper.

"But it doesn't have to be all bad. Remember, I take care of what's mine."

Previous Part

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly

[nekropsii]

Wild how when I call Shipping Culture oppressively pervasive and awful for any Aro/Ace with the gall to enjoy anything on the Internet, I get called a Fun-Hating Killjoy and told to just shut the fuck up or off myself, no matter how mild or polite my comment is. Wild how when I say a character either is textually Aro/Ace or is easier to read as Aro/Ace than Alloromantic/sexual, people start talking down to me like I'm a child who doesn't know anything, saying "Friendly reminder that Aro(s)/Aces can Date/Have Sex too, just like us Normal People!". As if I don't know anything about my own identity. Wild how when I do either of these things or even just say I'm not into a pairing or uninvested in shipping in general people call me fucking homophobic, even if the (at least popularly perceived - let's be honest, people are wrong half the time) genders of the characters is never once made relevant. Even though their reasoning for me being homophobic is lack of investment in a gay pairing they like, and nothing more. Wild how people throw little baby tantrums at even the gentlest criticism of Shipping Culture, or someone choosing not to engage heavily in it. Wild how they have the audacity to ask, with hostility, what the fuck Aro(s)/Aces are talking about when they say Shipping Culture is hostile to Aro/Ace fans, or ask what's wrong with them when they say that they aren't into Shipping.

It's almost like Bigots don't realize they're being Bigots when they do Bigotry, so just saying you're not a Bigot isn't enough. It's almost like Aro/Ace people know what the hell they're talking about. It's almost like we have a fucking point. It's almost like we're valid in expressing contempt and frustration with the constant expectation to engage with Romance and Sexuality at every waking moment, even if we're Romance and/or Sex Favorable. It's almost like we're tired of getting our identities erased, and we're tired of expecting to "act normal", and we're tired of just taking it when Allos use the Favorable members of our communities as a scapegoat for why they should be allowed to totally erase any of our representation just for their "Harmless Queer Fun" - deliberately, and I mean DELIBERATELY, failing to recognize or acknowledge the character's orientation, and how an A-Spec's personal relationship with and expressions of Love are going to look drastically different from an Allo person's - and call us the Bigots when we even glance in the direction of objection.

It's almost like Allo/Amatonormativity are oppressive forces.

Alloromantics/sexuals are constantly looking for any reason they can to call Aro(s)/Aces unloving, unfeeling, frigid, soulless, cruel. Inhuman. They're looking for any reason they can to call us whiny children, stupid, people who "just haven't found the right one", addressing us only as "Works in Progress", or someone who can have their sexuality corrected with the right stimulus - Conversion Therapy and Corrective Rape are okay when it happens to us, after all. Any reason at all to call us heartless monsters. AlloAces are confused children. They can be fixed. AroAllos are manipulative, unfeeling sexual predators. They can't be fixed - just kill them. AroAces are frigid, mean bitches. They can be fixed. God forbid you're Aplatonic. God forbid you're part of the Repulsed spectrum. God forbid you're one of the Loveless. God forbid you hold any pride in your identity, God forbid you don't keep your mouth shut, God forbid you critique the overinflated importance Allos place onto Love as a concept. God forbid you critique something as asinine and juvenile as fucking Shipping Culture. Do any one of these and you've put a bright red, blazing neon target on your back.

Wild how the only real humans amongst us are the Romance, Sex, and Friendship Favorable who put their head down and mask as Allo, and side with the Allos when their fellow A-Specs get too loud for the comfort of their Allo friend's delicate little fee-fees. After all, Vitriol and Harassment are warranted when an Allo's feelings get slightly hurt that an Aro person says, on their own account, to no one in particular, that they're sick of every tag being 80% Shipping Content. Which is a vehemently evil personal attack, clearly.

Wild.

[ari-cuno]

A little drabble I wrote after some inspiration and a little break between drawing some art <3

I just wanted to experiment and see how an interaction like this would go between them. It was supposed to be angst but I couldn't help changing it a bit. >3<

Please let me know if I did the couch potato justice @zu-is-here and if there's anything else I could've done better!

“Aim…” Axel mumbled, looking as if he were ready to crumble or disappear from the anxiety in his soul. It formed a painful lump, making his words struggle to come out properly. But under all that was the undying love and trust of the man before him. In all his unconditional love there was still part of him that needed to know, it needed to know that Aim was truly there, and that he was his, no matter how murky the waters they swam in were. Of course it was a silly question though. He knew that answer well enough. Aim was his, but…was Axel himself Aim's? 

“...I need you, Aim.” His voice finally managed to say. “...But I don't know if you need me.” He admitted quietly, his voice suddenly breaking.

Aim, sitting on the other side of the bed, turned to look at the distressed skeleton, offering him a look of comfort with some sort of humor attached to it. “What do ya mean? Of course I need you.” He said, sounding slightly surprised by how the shorter skeleton only seemed to look sadder at his reply. 

“...No- just- ugh! You don't understand!” Axel cried out as he sat on the opposite side of the bed. “You seemed so fine before I came back to find you. Part of me wonders if I'm being selfish by asking so much of you. You don't owe me your companionship. But…but I want it, I crave it, and I crave you.” He said, looking frustrated. 

“...Heh, you have no idea how nice it is having you around.” Aim said, laying back on the mattress, his arms resting above his head. That response made Axel look at him with surprise. 

“If anything I probably need you more. I mean, I must've been really stuck in your head to make you come back after so long. Like a rattle in your skull?” He said in a lighthearted tone, watching Axel's face flush as he looked away. 

“Hm…something like that.” Axel said quietly. 

“This whole thing between us isn't bad. You've already done so much for me and-” Aim paused, noticing the little glitter from a tear that streamed down Axel's cheek. Oh no, had he said something wrong? 

“You're right. You have been stuck in my head forever, and you have no idea how great it was to see you again, but…I don't want to push my feelings on you like this.” Axel said quietly, letting out a little laugh through a few sobs. 

“Stars…oh stars…how are we going to make this work?” He said meekly, voice full of raw vulnerability and sorrow. His soul fluttered intensely in his chest any time he laid eyes on the man before him, couch-potato and lazy-bones aside. 

“Axel, you're crying-” Aim tried, sitting up. 

“Of course I am…this is never going to work!” Axel cried out, trying to wipe his tears away. “I can't even kiss you-”

“You can.” Aim replied. 

“...what?” Axel said, lifting his head up to look at him, surprised by his answer. Aim looked at him with a more genuine smile. “Is that why you are so upset? Are you afraid to ask me for a hug or a kiss?” The larger skeleton asked with a little grin. 

“I might not get it, but we're a team. One member just can't pull all the weight, I'm too heavy for you to be carrying all the weight of us. I can try my best for you if it will make you happy, just ask. There's nothing wrong giving back to my ‘partner’, eh?” Aim grinned, winking under his goggles. 

Axel stared, the glitchy skeletons gaze was  less upset, and more just shocked and moved by his words. “...you'd…you'd do that for me? Aim please…your boundaries, I don't want you to feel uncomfortable.” He said gently, trying to be careful with his wording. 

“Oi! I don't mind as long as you're happy by the end of it, I gotta keep the hand who feeds me happy, don't i?~” 

Axel rolled his eyes, sighing. He wiped the tears from his eyes, taking in a steady breath to calm himself. “Well…” he said, moving closer to Aim, their bodies close in contact. 

“...I've always wanted to see you without your goggles. The real you. I miss your beautiful eye lights. Please…let me see you.” Axel whispered, shifting his potion, sitting right in front of Aim as he reached out to the ever important goggles that hid Aim's orange eyelights. 

Aim seemed to hesitate, looking unsure as Axel grabbed the edges of his goggles with care. “Heh…they really haven't changed much.” He said, struggling to keep the smile on his face. “Are you sure it's worth your time?” The larger skeleton asked. 

Axel frowned, lifting his goggles above his head gently. “...I'm sure.” He said firmly, cupping Aim's face with his hands, lifting himself up and settling amongst his partner's lap. He moved his face closer to Aim's, a small smile of appreciation and adoration flashing across his face. He was warm, very warm, and the way his eyelights stared back at him caused Axel's soul to flutter intensely with delight. 

He leaned it, pressing his nose against Aim's, an affection nuzzle. “...Is this okay?” He asked after a few tense moments of silence, staring into Aim's face. The other skeleton seemed quite relaxed, his eye lights faintly illuminating the space between them like a dim light, a small light compared to the blue hue spread across Axel's face.

“Of course.” Aim said calmly, “...you know, you're actually pretty light, heh.” He teased. 

“Feeling better?” Aim asked for a few moments, the warmth between them being pleasant, like a warm blanket on a cold day. Axel hesitated, his hands resting on Aim's chest as he let them go from his face. 

“...May I kiss you?” Axel asked, before stopping to think for a second. “-and more?” He asked with an added huskiness to his voice, his soul beating heavily against his ribcage in a flurry of emotions. 

“Sure.” Aim said simply, leaning back. His simple response caught Axel off guard. Stars, did he really trust him that much? Axel looked starstruck, staring at Aim with sparkling eyes full of a swirl of positive emotions, the tears on his face long dry. 

Aim noticed, looking a little concerned, “You alright-?” He questioned, before he was cut off, his words swallowed up as Axel leaned in, pressing their mouths together in a soft, delicate motion. Axel held himself there for several moments, his breath held as he made contact with Aim, a warmth spreading over him, and a warmth he missed once he pulled away. 

His voice came out in a soft tone, full of emotion. 

“....Everything is fine.”

[sizzlingcloudmentality]

slower

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

wordcount: ~2,4k

summary: One fine morning you overthink a little too much for Dave's liking, so he prescribes you his tried-and-true treatment: cockwarming. He continues to be just a guy <3 can be read as part 2 to slow, but works as a standalone as well

warnings: smut, explicit, no use of y/n, reader is ablebodied, established relationship, mild d/s dynamics, unprotected p in v, creampie, cockwarming but make it oral, deep throat-ish but not really, squint and you miss the dacryphilia, pussy pronouns, dick pronouns, pet names (honey, puppy), soft (dom)!Dave deserves his own warning, feelings

a/n: these two sat in my drafts since slow came out: to everyone who loved part 1, thank you and I hope you'll enjoy this one, too. my undying love and gratefulness to @guiltyasdave because she beta'ed again (thanks bby) and reassured me by saying this is still Dave even if he's a little soft for his girl. I'd be so lost without you Jana 💛 tagging @sp00kymulderr as well because ✨dick pronouns✨ (justice for dick pronouns y'all)

Sunday morning. He ran. He made coffee. He showered. He stands next to your side of the bed with a steaming cup in his hand.

Your nose twitches, he can see it. It's either the coffee or the scent of his body wash that pulls you out of your sleep. 

You look so pretty, with that tiny gap between your lips, your lashes slowly fluttering against your cheeks as you wake up.

The coffee finds its place on the bedside table and Dave sits down, the mattress dipping under his weight. Finally you open your eyes, and when you see him, still wet from the shower and not already dressed, a smile touches your lips.

“There she is,” he hums with a smile of his own and gently cups your jaw in one hand. His thumb drags down your bottom lip before letting go of it again. 

You know him. At least the things that he lets you know about him. And he's having thoughts, you can clearly see it in the way he is staring at your mouth and the way his thumb looks pressed against the soft flesh of your lips.

You kiss the pad of his finger, adding a little kitten lick after and smirk when his eyes narrow for a split second. You got him. 

“What are you thinking about, handsome?” You stretch your body and lean one of your bare legs against his wet back.

“None of your business,” he grumbles, feeling his resolve slip away. You were onto him. Usually he is too clever and stubborn to fall for your weak manipulation attempts. But this morning he is feeling soft.

You pout, pursing your lips against his thumb that still moves along them. ‘Meanie,’ you mouth silently before licking his thumb again, slowly, as if you want to drag the digit into your mouth when you pull your tongue back.

It is so obvious, you don't even try to conceal the way you want him.

His thumb slips between your lips and when you make that little muffled uh and start to lazily twist your tongue around his finger, he can feel the memory of this feeling between his legs.

He needs you. 

“That's better, isn't it, honey. Keeping your pretty mouth busy and filled.”

You shift your body, move it closer to Dave and his towel clad thighs, your hands snaking over the sheets towards him.

He pushes his thumb deeper into your mouth, pressing down onto your tongue to get you from licking to sucking and you oblige, like you always do.

With half lidded eyes, another moan doesn't quite make its way past his finger and stays stuck in your mouth. Your thighs clamp together and your eyes open again, only to find your own desire mirrored in his expression.

You need him, too. To trust you enough to be soft around you, vulnerable. Just once.

“Too many thoughts in your pretty little head…” Dave shakes his head dismissively when he sees your tiny worry-line appearing between your brows. “When I fill your mouth, you better only think happy thoughts, honey. Or none. That's what I would prefer.”

Unceremoniously he pulls his thumb from your mouth and the deepening line between your brows makes him laugh a little.

“Poor baby,” he mocks with so much softness in his voice that his attempt to kiss your forehead smooth again works. 

You shuffle closer, your hand tugs his towel to the side so you can rest your cheek on his naked thigh. Skin to skin. You crave this nearness so openly and extensively that he can hide his own need for it behind your clinginess.

He never would admit it, but he enjoys it, the way you ask for his touch or simply just touch him whenever you need to. Which is often. Daves is sure about it, if you could and if he would let you, you would curl up in his lap like a loyal puppy.

He admires that about you, the fierceness with which you adore him. The way a heartfelt I love you slips from your lips so easily and the way you never are disappointed when he can't return the favor. He feels it, but words are hard for him. 

“What's worrying you, honey?” he coos quietly, looking down at you while he caresses your cheek.

“Nothing.” You. You worry me, David, you think to yourself while a finger follows the faint shadow of a vein appearing from under his towel.

“Mhmm… You're lying, honey.” A few droplets of water fall down from his wet hair and he wipes them away from your face. “Do you… want me to give you something to occupy your mind with? Something that helps you to get that adorable blank expression?” 

You nod your head slowly and a moment later Dave is on the bed and you are on him. The sheets rustle softly but the towel makes no sound when it slips open and down onto the floor.

A little pat on his thigh and you move without hesitation, curling your body between his spread legs and resting your cheek once again on him. 

It is comfortable, the position with your head in his lap, but also all of this. The absence of shame. Dave’s confidence and casualness with his body rubbed off on you. The definitions of naked, bare, exposed, vulnerable have shifted since you were with him. He often was bare before your eyes, he exposed his body in front of you, used and moved it as the high precision tool he thinks it is. But Dave was never vulnerable. 

You on the other hand have always been vulnerable when you were naked. He had a way of connecting your mind with your physical form and that made you exposed, bare, vulnerable. And seen and safe. Is he feeling safe with you?

“Stop overthinking,” he hums and strokes the back of your head. Such a good, loyal puppy for him.

“I can't.” The words are muffled against his skin, your lips occupied with scattering little kisses up his leg until you reach the always trimmed but never bare triangle. You stop and look up at him.

“You can. Just gotta focus, honey.” You are so pretty like this, so respectful, your mouth just one breath away from what you want and yet, you wait for his permission. “Let me help you,” he mutters softly. “What do you want?”

You move your head, your whole body, closer and nuzzle the patch of shortened curls at his base. “Him. Please.” 

You already miss him. It's been a couple of days. And the last time Dave helped you with your extensive overthinking has been even longer. You need him, them. A faint throb against your nose assures you that he needs you, too. Please, your eyes say when you look up again. He is so pretty like this, looking down at you.

“Go on. You can have him.”

You move again, immediately, and lick his limp dick into your mouth. He tastes so clean. Sweet almost. Purely David. Soft and sweet, resting on your tongue.

He continues to stroke your hair. There you are, curled up in his lap, needing him to help you relax. Such a good, good puppy.

“Don't move, just breathe.”

You nod and swallow. He starts growing. It never stops being magical. Slowly he crawls down your tongue, stretches into all directions that are you. Seeking your depths. You let him. 

It's peaceful, this morning, your head in Dave's lap, his hand in your hair, his hardening cock securely plugged in your mouth. No noise, just sheets rustling, your deep breaths, his sighs, your mewls. No movement except him, pushing himself deeper in the steady rhythm of Dave's pulse.

He begins to feel heavy. You know how he would look if you didn't hold him between your lips. Hanging, not hard enough yet to stand, point, spear. Just heavy hanging, swinging, giving the best slaps against your mouth and cheeks and pussy in this state. Full, heavy, promising. You want to suck him so bad. Want to suck him until he's rock hard and throbbing. You mewl again, sounding choked as he slowly makes it past the base of your tongue. 

Dave grips a fistful of hair and tugs. A reminder. Breathe for me, honey. And you do. In and out. In and out, no thoughts in your head, just his cock, who is forcing his way past your resistance. You breathe. You focus. You relax your jaw and your mind. Bliss. Your pussy pulses. You mewl.

“Such a good girl, you're doing so good.” He wants to move so badly. In and out. But he can't. You need him, trust him to take care of you. He sees the glossy sheen in your eyes as you're tearing up just the slightest bit. He's somewhere in there, he thinks and caresses your throat with his thumb. You don't like him there too much and he respects that boundary. But he loves being in there, loves seeing you getting teary eyed whenever you decide to grace him with your trust and kindness and take him as deep as you can. He's a bastard, he thinks when he coos at you, for taking such a pleasure in seeing you cry.

You swallow again, your saliva struggles past him on its way down and there it is, a fragrant hint of salt makes it to your palates. He is leaking. You see it in your mind: salty shimmery pearls, making a pretty string of beads down his cock, along that one pretty vein that throbs against your tongue right now. You mewl but all that you both can hear is a pathetic, strangled gurgle. A tear forms on your lash line and lands on your cheek. 

Dave takes it up with his thumb and licks it. Saltiness spreads on his tongue. A trade of salt, he gives you his, you give him yours. You're even, always. 

His hand loosens around your hair, it's over if you like, keep going if you want, puppy.

You struggle a few moments more around him while he takes up space in your throat and mind. Dave's eyes feel heavy on you, the love he never expresses with explicit words is carving the trails of your tears into your cheeks. He throbs violently and you pull yourself off of him, coughing.

You scramble to your knees and before you could even miss the feel of Dave's skin he has you pulled into his lap, cradling you, peppering you with sweet praise. How well you did with the breathing. How good and calm your mouth felt around him. How pretty you are. 

He feels it, your slick. Silky and sweet, sticking between your thighs, just from holding his cock in your mouth. Dave looks down, shifting you, encouraging you to straddle him and spread your legs wider, so he can see everything that is his.

Shimmery threads of sweetness, stretching from one inner thigh to the other. He sticks his fingers into it, twists them, turns them, spinning your thread of silk around his digits. He sucks them clean. Sweet. Like spun sugar but better. 

You look down, between your legs and watch him as he grips himself by the base, and twists more of you around him, mixing your sweetness with his saltiness, creating a smooth blend of sticky threads. You almost drool and add another liquid, but Dave is quicker.

With a small thrust he pushes himself inside of you, not hurried, not slow either, but determined and eager. Another wet, tight heat welcomes him this morning and he feels truly blessed for this woman on his lap. 

“Such a good puppy for me. So loyal,” he murmurs, voice strained and like gravel. Now it's you throbbing and pulsing, stretching around him but unwillingly, she likes to hold him close and tight, tucked away where he belongs. What you lack in clarity your pussy has enough of: she wants one thing and that is him. 

You tilt your hips, angling him deeper. You whimper and sling your arms around Dave's neck and you breathe, in and out, and he moves beneath you. In. And out. A determined rhythm, chasing nothing because why chase the inescapable? It will come, like Dave, like you. 

His hand finds his way down to the spot where you are joined, dipping and smearing in the salty sweet gooeyness, gliding over and circling around the nub that makes you hiss and your pussy clench violently.

“Feeling good, little puppy?” Dave groans and pushes his spread fingers deeper, feeling himself push inside of you and out again until the thick rim of his tip appears and disappears again.

You nod, head bouncing in the steady rhythm. In. Out. Up. Down. Full. Empty. Full. Empty. Deeper. Fuck, you're close. Deeper again, tensing, throbbing.

“Dave-”

“I know, honey. Be good.” Let go. Just breathe. In. Deep. Deeper, out. “Be a good puppy for me. I'm right there.” All he needs is you spasming around him and your whines. 

You angle your hips again, dragging your aching clit against his spikey trimmed hair that got all smooth and slick. Salty and sweet. Up, down, so fucking deep you wince, up, down, faster, again. Now you're chasing. Mind deliciously blank, just the hum of pleasure in your spine. So close. So deep, so full, so stretched around him you can't even clamp on him anymore. More. Down, deeper.

His fingers flick and he pinches your clit and you fall, white noise and moans in your ears, riding Dave through the wave of your orgasm. Feeling him filling you now. Feeling his fingers digging into your hips and pressing you down on him, so deep inside of you and he whines. A sweet whimper of your name, breathed into your ear and securely locked away in your mind with a kiss. 

You both breathe heavily now, in and out, sticky skin, gasps trickling from your mouths, arms encircling, little giggles mixed in, to make a soft, warm blend of safety.

He feels safe with me, you think and when you lean back, just enough to look at Dave's face, he mouthes something that looks like love and you and you securely lock those words away with a kiss.

comment or reblog to get an anti-overthinking session with Dave (I'm in dire need of one myself, help)

read part 1 here

find my Dave York masterlist here

find my general masterlist here

dividers: as always @/saradika-graphics

[followthebluebell]

I’ve got a cat question- I have an ultra dumb adult/early senior kitty. She’s got a variety of toys that she doesn’t really play with, which is ok, but I’m worried that she’s understimulated. I’ve started giving her dry food in a sort of extremely easy puzzle feeder- basically she just needs to scoop it out with her paw but anything more than that and she doesn’t care enough to work for it. Would a slow feeder for her wet food be ok too? I just want her to be stimulated and happy and I worry that she’s bored

Yeah, a slow feeder for her wet food would be fine. But let's talk about some other options, in case you end up hating cleaning out slow feeders (like me. i hate cleaning out slow feeders and silicone mats).

It could be a matter of reward vs action. like. i wouldn't want to drag a salad out of a toy ball, but i might be willing to roll a meat stuffed pumpkin around my enclosure. Metaphorically speaking, I mean.

It may just be that her usual dry food just isn't interesting enough to work for when she knows 'eh, I'll get something better later anyway'. You could try a 'junkier' food, like fancy feast kibble or temptations to get her more interested in working for her food.

You can also try an even lower impact toy, like literally just putting some kibble on some crumpled up paper in a box.

Also, since she's an early senior, it could be worth talking to your vet about arthritis. Some cats are just lazy (and that's fine), but cats are pretty good at hiding pain. I suspect a lot more are affected by arthritis than we know.

[hitomisuzuya]

ajdbks omg hi daddy!scara anon here... I LOVED THE FIC BTW MWAH MWAH CHEFS KISS- may i req aftercare with daddy!scara? maybe helpin you clean up in the bath (as he's very insistent on it...) and reader givin him some lovin too.. thanking him for being such a good daddy.. and maybe trying to give him some aftercare too.. (like a massage?) and he gets super flustered by it and lightheartedly grumpy because hes supposed to take care of you, not the other way around !! and it ends with some fluffy playfulness and lots of kisses and i love you's and aaaghh i love this man

scaramouche x fem!reader. a little smut but mostly fluffy fluff fluff aftercare. daddy kink. handjob. modern au

i very glad you enjoyed it🥺 i love scara. like a whole lot.

scaramouche insisted on carrying you to the bath tub, which was filling with pleasantly scented water, bubbles fluffing out on the surfacw. he absolutely knew he is rough with you, and you deserved nothing less than to melt like candle wax and relax while he took care of you afterwards.

the sweet little way you cling to him, your arms looped around his neck and your cheek nuzzling against his collarbone made his heart swell and flutter in his chest. how fucking precious you are.

moments after he gently set you down in the water, and got in the tub with you, you immediately went to him. "you are so good to me, daddy," you said, giving him a soft kiss on his lips.

oh please, go on. he knows how great he is.

"hush, you," he grumbled, his cheeks flushing as he picked up a wash cloth. it should be considered a crime how cute you are. he dabbed at some dried blood around a bite mark on your neck. he slid the wash cloth over your blossoming bruises, admiring his work.

you sighed softly, you eyes drifting closed for a moment. the warm water soothed your sore muscles, sore muscles you never minded. if you didn't feel a little sore, then scaramouche felt he didn't do a thorough enough job. "you always know just what to do."

opening your hazy eyes, you moved through the bubbles behind him. "you always take such good care of me," you wrapped arms around him, resting your chin on his shoulder. "let me take of you, daddy," you pressed a gentle kiss on his neck.

"you know this isn't how it works, right?" he said shakily feeling your finger tips brush against his nipple. sure, you are making his cock twitch but damn it, he was supposed to be taking care of you. you giggled, gently pinching his nipple before bringing you hand down between his legs.

"you sneaky little," he moaned softly, precum leaking onto his cock head as you massaged it with your thumb. he leaned back against you, rutting into your hand as you stroked his cock. you pumped your hand in time with his ruts, massaging your thumb on the vein that buldged to the surface.

scaramouche's hands groped around for your knees, your thighs, anything to hold onto while he grinded shamelessly into your hand. you nuzzled against his neck, gently pinching and rolling his nipple between your fingers. his cock throbbed in your hand as his husky moans echoed throughout the bathroom.

"ah, fuck, you are amazing," water sloshed around him as he writhed a little, gritting his teeth in hopes of not sloshing water all over the floor. water he knew you would attempt to clean up yourself. at the thought, he let out a frustrated whimper.

"it's you who is amazing, daddy," your tongue flicked out to lick the shell of his ear. your ministrations on his nipples made his cock pulse harder in your hand. "i love you," he could hear the pure genuine weight of your words.

his moans rose in octave as cum roped into your hand. an embarrassed flush darkened his cheeks, having cum hard hearing even a little praise from you. you held him as he shook from his orgasm, pumping your hand on his cock until he was trembling in bliss against you.

washing your hand in the water, you leaned around and kissed him before putting your hands on his shoulders. you pressed and massaged your fingers into his muscles.

"you," he groaned softly, his body immediately relaxing further into your touches, "what am i going to do with you? let me take care of you, brat," his eyes drifted closed, ultimately surrendering to your massage. he could practically feel your victorious smile behind him.

about 45 minutes later, he raised his hand up out of the water, wiggling his index finger for you to lean around him. "a couple of things," he said once you peeked curiously around at him with cutest little, "hm?"

"i'm carrying you to bed. i am taking you to dinner tomorrow night. and," he pressed a long, slow kiss on your lips. a cocky victory smirk of his own tugged at the corners of his lips feeling you melt into his kiss. "i love you, i hope you know," he looked shy in a grumpy way as he said it.

"that's three things, daddy," you giggled, kissing him again. scaramouche playfully swatted bubbles at you. "i love you."

[anonymous-dentist]

Bleeding Heart Part Six

Part One | Previous Part

-

Almost two months after his first altercation with Hombre Misterioso, Cellbit hears a knock at his door as he's editing the last of Roier's photos.

Yawning, Cellbit leans his chair back and runs a hand through his hair. He cracks his neck and blearily checks the time in the bottom corner of his computer screen: three in the afternoon. He started editing almost nine hours ago. He's been out of coffee for two and a half hours at least.

So he gets up, groans as his spine protests at the sudden weight, winces as his bones all pop in quick succession. Picks up his coffee mug, ignores the knocking at the door, goes to start a fresh pot of coffee.

His mug was painted by Richarlyson at one of those do-your-own-pottery places. It's a bright, ugly yellow with a red heart and the words, 'World's Okayest Dad' painted on it in black.

The knocking continues.

Cellbit checks his hair in his reflection in the microwave. Pulls at one of the bags under his eyes. Sticks his tongue out. Grimaces at how stupid and old and tired he looks. (Bagi is 26, he thinks, so he should be, too. But, wow, he looks older. Much older.)

More knocking.

With one last forlorn look at his bubbling, brewing, beautiful coffee, Cellbit finally goes to answer the door. He's in his pajamas (sweats and one of Felps' old shirts), and he probably looks like a walking corpse, but, like. Whatever, anyone stupid enough to actually come to his apartment knows that he works from home. They should know what to expect when bothering him.

But:

"Hi!" Bluebird cheerfully says as soon as Cellbit's door is open.

Cellbit looks at her. He blinks, rubs his eyes with one hand, and moves to close the door in her face.

But he's stopped by Bluebird sticking her foot in the door and weaseling past him and into the apartment. She apologizes as she does so, but Cellbit knows that she doesn't mean it; she's a hero.

"Nice place," she comments, walking to the couch and plopping herself down like she's right at home.

"Um," awkwardly says Cellbit. "Get out of my house?"

"Who, me?"

Bluebird actually, really, legitimately looks around the room dramatically, head and hair whipping back and forth as she tries to find whoever it is that Cellbit is actually talking to.

Cellbit balls his hands into fists by his sides. Fucking. Heroes.

Bluebird's costume is basic: black undersuit, light blue vest and darker blue pants, white ski goggles. Her hair is halfway tied back in a ponytail. Her weapon of choice, her now-famous scythe, is on her back and digging into Cellbit's couch cushions. The Federation's logo is right on her chest, and all her sponsors' logos run down her sleeves and the legs of her pants.

Cellbit hates her. She isn't even making an attempt to hide her identity- the goggles aren't doing shit. Heroes don't have to hide themselves. Their faces are on cereal boxes. Bluebird is no exception, especially now that her popularity is skyrocketing.

Bluebird, of course, is assigned to find and defeat Hombre Misterioso. The public thinks that her job is to capture them so they can be tried and imprisoned in the Federation's special underwater prison facility. But Cellbit knows that she's going to kill Hombre Misterioso, and it'll be framed as an accident, and she'll get 'suspended' for a month or so as punishment but, really, it'll actually be a vacation reward for a job well done.

"What do you want," Cellbit flatly asks.

Sighing, he nudges the door shut behind him and leans against it, arms crossed.

Bluebird stares at him for a moment.

(Bare arms crossed, scars and all.)

And then she lets out a breath and crosses her legs, fold her hands neatly on top of her knees and tries to smile. Tries, because Cellbit can tell that her heart isn't in it.

"Hey," she hesitantly says, "so I'm supposed to be asking you about Hombre Misterioso and stuff, but, real quick, I just wanna say that I'm really sorry if Cucurucho's been bothering you."

"You're wasting your time," Cellbit tells her. "Get out of here before I call the cops for trespassing."

Bagi would love to arrest a Fed, even if the charge wouldn't stick longer than an hour after arrest.

Bluebird winces. "O-kaaaay, sensing some hostility here. But, listen, we all just want this guy caught, right?"

"Sure. It's a real shame what's happening to all your heroes."

"It is! And you almost ended up like them, but! But you didn't."

"Yeah." Cellbit nods. "Because I'm not one of you. You're talking to the wrong guy."

He smells coffee.

Ignoring Bluebird for the moment, he walks through the main room and past the couch and the hero on it so he can squeeze into the kitchen. His apartment isn't small, but the kitchen table takes up a solid ninety-percent of the kitchen's floorspace. It even dips into the main room, making it real hard to get around at night when the lights are off.

He grabs his mug and the coffee pot and pours himself a fresh cup. He can feel the warmth radiating out from them both, and he shivers involuntarily. (He usually wears a hoodie when he's working, but he spilled coffee on it earlier in the afternoon and hasn't gotten around to getting a fresh one out of the closet.)

Bluebird, of course, follows him. She hovers in the doorway near the end of the table; her scythe is tall enough to almost scrape the top of the doorway.

Cellbit raises his mug to his lips.

"You might not realize this, but you were probably targeted," Bluebird says, actually almost sounding serious. "Your parents might be dead, but you and your sister aren't."

Cellbit jerks so hard in response that he spills his fresh, hot, boiling coffee all down his front. But he can barely feel it through the sudden rush of hatred in his body.

"My parents had nothing to do with the Federation," he snaps. He pulls his wet shirt out in front of him and wrinkles his nose. "Excuse me."

He puts his cup down on the counter and pushes past a surprised Bluebird to go to his room. He actually manages to close this door behind him as he pulls his shirt off and starts searching for a new one.

As he's digging through his shirt drawer, he hears a tap-tap-tap at the window behind his desk.

Dread filling his veins, Cellbit turns around and sees a familiar gas mask poking out over the top of his computer monitor.

Hombre Misterioso waves.

Cellbit, suddenly, feels rather faint.

"No, sorry!" Bluebird calls through the closed door. "That was my bad! I meant your, uh, the parents you and your sister share? Not your actual parents."

Cellbit points aggressively at the window and mouths, 'Get the hell out of here!'

Hombre Misterioso just waves some more. They're absolutely smiling under their mask.

It's the afternoon. They haven't been seen once in the day, only at night. Sometimes in the evening. Rarely at dawn. Not when the sun is out; it's theorized that their powers relate to the darkness like the Demon's.

"I have nothing to do with those people," Cellbit huffs. He turns back around and grabs a random shirt out of the drawer and starts pulling it on. "Cucurucho probably made you read my file, right? So you should know that."

"It... briefly mentions the Webbers, but that's not what's important!" Bluebid protests. "The Federation is really worried about your safety here, dude! My partner, Lavagirl, is currently talking with your sister about this exact same thing."

"You'll have better luck with her. She's actually on your payroll."

"Yeah, so her time with the Junior Heroes actually makes her a bigger target than you, probably, but, listen-"

Somehow, Cellbit's window starts to squeak open behind him.

He whips around and glares at Hombre Misterioso, who freezes in place with their fingers on the glass. Are those... suction cups on their fingertips? What, are they a thief now? A Spider-Man wannabe?

"No!" Cellbit shouts.

Hombre Misterioso flips him off with a palpable roll of the eyes.

Bluebird repeats, "'No'? Aren't you listening to me right now? Hombre Misterioso is trying to kill you!"

Cellbit laughs dryly. "Yeah, no."

He angrily drives his finger downwards: 'Get down.'

Hombre Misterioso shakes their head.

Cellbit rolls his eyes and points at his bedroom door: 'Someone's here!'

Hombre Misterioso shrugs and starts moving his window again.

Cellbit bites back a groan and rushes to slam his window shut, having to reach around his computer to do it. It slams, and then it's immediately being raised again by the goddamn menace on the fire escape outside.

"Are you okay in there?" Bluebird worriedly asks. "You didn't get burned or anything, right?"

"Mmm, yeah, no, I'm burned as shit," Cellbit lies.

He hisses, eyes narrowed, "Fuck off! There is literally a superhero in my living room right now!"

Hombre Misterioso responds by pulling their cape aside and revealing the hilt of their sword.

"No!"

"Do I need to call an ambulance or something?" Bluebird asks.

"No, I'm fine!" Cellbit replies. "I'm putting on some burn cream now!"

"...You keep that stuff in your bedroom?"

"My computer is old as shit and I have to run Photoshop on it. I burn myself daily. Just... get out of here!"

Cellbit, only vaguely panicked, suddenly grabs an exacto knife from his supplies drawer and drags it across his palm.

Hombre Misterioso lets out an alarmed-sounding electronic gasp, but Cellbit just grits his teeth through the pain and forces a string of his blood out of his hand and around the window's latch and then around the leg of the desk. It ties itself off with a neat knot; Cellbit forces his bleeding to stop and starts willing his platelets to kick into action.

"No, wait, I'm a hero!" Bluebird argues. "I'm trained in first aid! Let me help!"

"I'm literally shirtless!" Cellbit, wearing a shirt, shouts. "Get the fuck out of my apartment!"

"Not until I know you're okay! Do you know how much trouble I'll get in if they find out I let a civilian get hurt?"

Oh, Cellbit knows.

The window rattles and strains as the string of blood keeps it shut. (Blood is made of iron, after all.)

With his palm already scabbing, Cellbit storms towards the door and slams it open, blocking his desk and window from view with his body.

Bluebird looks up at him, determined.

Cellbit wants to stab her.

Instead, he says, "Look, I'm not the guy you want to talk to about this. Your partner is already talking to Bagi, but you both have forgotten about the guy who chased Hombre Misterioso away from me that time."

(The window goes silent.)

For whatever reason, Bluebird sucks in a sharp breath before attempting a smile.

"Oh, Roier?" she asks. "We don't need to talk to him."

Cellbit cocks his head. "Really? Because I was unconscious. I can't tell you anything about what Hombre Misterioso was doing. But Roier saw it all."

"And he talked to the police."

"But Hombre Misterioso has to be pissed at him for ruining their kill, right?" Cellbit asks. "Serial killers always end up escalating outside of their pattern, everybody who's studied them knows this. They lose control. The pattern now is Federation workers, but maybe it'll expand to people protecting Federation workers."

Bluebird pales.

Cellbit rolls his eyes. "Come on, have you really not thought of that? Aren't you guys supposed to be, like, crime experts?"

"Hey! I'm new!"

"Yeah, and you're letting a civilian stay in danger because you're too focused on protecting a failed lab experiment," Cellbit scoffs. "Trust me, if this guy knows as much about me as you think they do, then they know that I'm not the guy they want to kill. They're looking for people who like the Federation, not people who hate it."

Bluebird narrows her eyes. "That's a dangerous thing to say to a superhero, you know."

Cellbit shrugs. "Sue me. You read my file, you know that I'm more likely to be a suspect here than a victim."

She nods. "...Yeah, but you don't have powers. And they do."

He smiles bitterly. "Right."

He looks at Bluebird.

Bluebird looks at him.

"Well?" he asks. "It's a couple of hours until the sun sets, and Roier's going to be leaving work soon. In that area of town? It's only a matter of time until Hombre Misterioso catches him."

There's a quiet laugh from the window.

Cellbit quickly covers it up with a cough and a faux-pained wheeze. He grips at his chest, wincing.

Bluebird's eyes widen. "Oh, shit! Right! Your burn!"

He waves her off. "Don't worry about it, I texted my friend. He's a doctor, he's on his way."

"Really?"

"Yeah, Pac from Chume Labs? He probably helped develop your training program."

"Oh, shit, you're friends with him?" she gasps.

"What can I say? Us Brazilians gotta stick together."

"Huh. Fair. Well..."

She looks uncertain, but she nods, acquiescing. "Fine. If he's coming. But, listen, call the hotline if you see Hombre Misterioso around, okay? You might not have the... best history with us, but the Federation is good people."

Cellbit smiles. "Get out of my apartment."

Once she's gone, Cellbit lets out a scream into his hands and turns to go and yell at Hombre Misterioso some. What the fuck!

He storms to the window and drops the string. It falls apart, blood splashing onto the desk and the carpet.

He wrenches the window open and finds himself nose-to-nose with Hombre Misterioso.

Well.

Nose to gas mask.

"What do you want?" Cellbit growls.

"Who was that?" Hombre Misterioso replies.

"Bluebird. You know, the hero literally assigned to kill you?"

Hombre Misterioso's shoulders tense minutely. "Oh."

Cellbit rolls his eyes. "Yeah. Now. What do you want? The sun is out. And I hate you."

"Ouch."

"Don't act surprised. You're literally stalking me."

"I'm not. But I am here for a good reason."

"You are literally at my apartment." Cellbit blinks. He flushes red in both anger and embarrassment. "You saw me shirtless!"

"And it was very nice, but I'm here to tell you that I am going to kill Iron Boy tonight at midnight."

Iron Boy... former Junior Hero, graduated a few years ago into the mainline hero program, no known powers but an affinity for technology. Otherwise known as Tubbo, one of Pac's coworkers at the lab, and one of Cellbit's biggest haters for no good reason.

Tubbo isn't that old. He's a mentor hero for the Junior Heroes. He doesn't do much actual hero-ing outside of escorting the juniors on crime fighting field trips and testing out weapons for the lab.

Cellbit shakes his head. "Not him."

"Yes, him."

"Do someone else. Without him, the lab is understaffed until Mike gets back from his honeymoon, and we don't know when that's going to be. Kill him when Mike's back."

"Ugh, fine," Hombre Misterioso groans. They slump against the windowsill and rest their chin on their arms. "Who should I kill, then?"

"Why are you asking me?" Cellbit asks. "I'm not a villain, in case you haven't noticed. I'm retired."

"Whatever you say, enigmito." They drum their fingers against the inside of Cellbit's wall. "Maybe I should find Sharkboy."

"Fuck Sharkboy," Cellbit immediately declares. "If you can find him, kill his ass. But he's also retired. Nobody from the Order has been able to track him down."

"Maybe I should find one of those French heroes," Hombre Misterioso muses. "What do you think?"

"I think that I should give you Crow Man's phone number so you can ask him about this and not me."

Suddenly, Hombre Misterioso sits up and snaps their fingers.

"I know!" they excitedly say. "Man-Bear!"

Man-Bear... must be one of the newer heroes that Cellbit doesn't know about. Richarlyson might have heard of him, but. Yeah, no, Cellbit isn't going to ask him. He doesn't want to risk a repeat of the aquarium.

"Fine, Man-Bear," Cellbit sighs. He gives Hombre Misterioso a tired look. "Is that all? Can you go now? And never come back? And leave me alone?"

"I mean, you can come with me toni-" Hombre Misterioso starts.

They freeze.

Cellbit watches their still body until they come back to themselves in the middle of a different sentence and in a different pose: gesturing grandly with their hands and audibly smiling.

"-a team!"

"Yeah, no," Cellbit immediately says. "I can get you the Demon, if you want? But he's kind of on a murder break right now..."

(Fatherhood really has mellowed Bad out, hasn't it?)

Hombre Misterioso audibly grimaces. "I fucking hate that guy. Look, I'll call you with the details tonight when it's about to happen. You can show up if you want. If you don't, it's no big deal, you can just come to the next one."

"Please don't do that."

"Don't worry, I still have your number."

"I'm literally going to go change it as soon as you're gone."

"You won't." They tilt their head tauntingly. "You want to keep an eye on me. If you don't, how will you keep me away from your son?"

The hair on the back of Cellbit's neck stands on end.

"You haven't changed your number since I first called you," they say. "You won't do it now."

They laugh, slow and deliberate and absolutely just grating on Cellbit's ears.

"I'll see you tonight," they say.

Cellbit slams the window shut and backs away from it.

Hombre Misterioso wiggles their fingers in a farewell, and then they hop over the edge of the fire escape and drop out of view.

...Maybe. Maybe, Cellbit should call Bagi.

-

A/N: Let me know what you think in the tags or in my inbox! I want to hear your theories, thoughts, opinions, everything!

[ao3sbatfamily]

have fun with this Superbat bodyswap

'This cumbersome and heavy body' by 32beesinatrenchcoat

Author: @32beesinatrenchcoat

Clark called Tim twice. The first time, no one answered. Tim picked up immediately on the second time. His voice was quiet and frantic. "Who are you, and what do you want with me?"

This alarmed him. What happened to Tim to think this way? "Tim, it's me. It's Bruce. There's no need to be nervous."

"See, that's how I know you're lying. Bruce doesn't call, and he definitely does not call with this phone number. There's always a need to be on alert. So, either something big happened to him," here his voice lost some of its hostility, "or you're not him."

"Tim. I am Bruce-"

"No, your voice isn't the same. It doesn't have the same cadence and authority that his has. Yours is gentler. I could try to determine exactly who it is by voice alone. However, that could take too long. Bruce wouldn't let anyone pretend to be him for a few hours. It needs to be someone he trusts. And there's only one person that Bruce trusts enough that also has a soft voice like yours. Hi, Clark."

[beef-brisket]

Michael tensed. He didn't trust Adam. He's been doing this job for too long to know that no bio weapons are safe. Especially not ones that are aware. In a split second, that parasite can take over, and Adam won't be Adam. Or, based on his mother, it could be Adam. But 10x worse.

But Michael will play nice. He cares for Lucifer in his own harsh, stoic way. And his little girl isn't exactly normal. So he isn't going to be out if their hair any time soon.

Michael: Adam. Good to see you.

Adam: You to. Keeping well, I hope.

Michael: Well, nearly every day, I'm fighting for the continuation and safety of the human race.

Adam: ...so, you're doing good?

Michael: Very good. We took down a large factory in East Asia. Rich bastards manufacturing bioweapons. It never ends...

Lucifer: ...

Adam: ...well! Good on you, Mike! You're doing great work!

Michael stared at him. He really didn't trust Adam. He felt fake. And in a way, he was. Lucifer was old enough to make his own choices, but living in a castle, far away from any living creatures? And that thing that makes the parasites is still here somewhere under that forsaken village.

It's not safe for Charlie. Michael can see that much.

But he won't dare speak to Lucifer about it while Adam's around. He may not be as strong as his mother- yet- but he can still do some serious damage.

He wonders if there's a way to run some tests on Adam. On the parasite, more specifically. Maybe he could predict what Adam will eventually turn into. It could be more powerful than Sera. More unstable. And without a constant blood supply that's putting not only Charlie and Lucifer at risk, but also all living life.

Adam: Michael? You good? You're just staring-

Michael: I'd like a sample of your parasite. At some point, if that's okay with you. It would be very helpful in understanding whatever that parasite is.

Adam: Oh! Uh... I mean-

Michael: I understand that it's in a delicate spot. But there's ways to extract a samplenwithought touching the spine. Maybe we could do an x ray. See where exactly it is.

Adam: I... guess that'll be fine. Usually, people ask me out to dinner before seeing my parasite~.

Lucifer: Do they?

Adam: No.

Michael: ...I can get you food if that's an issue.

Adam: Just blood for me, babe. Let me know when you want to do this whole thing. These next two weeks will be a tad a rough for me- growth spurt and all that. But anytime after that should be fine.

Michael: Wonderful. Thank you, Adam.

Adam: You're welcome!

They stood their a bit awkwardly. Well, Michael's staring was making it awkward. He was really intimidating even when he wasn't trying to be.

And he trained Lucifer. Lucifer was always on edge around Michael.

Have you seen Resident Evil: Village? All I'm saying is Adam and Emily as two of the three sisters and Sera as Lady Dimitrescu.

Lucifer is Ethan trying to find Charlie.

At first, Adam was on his mother and sisters side- but because they have a weird thing against dudes, he eventually helps Lucifer.

Trust me, it feels illegal not to make Adam the stunning Lady Dimitrescu, but for story reasons, he'll be one of her kids.

I mean, their hot. What can I say? Adam would look great like this 🤷

Adam: Mmm- man flesh~.

Lucifer: ...Kinda gay, man.

Adam: It's not gay.

Lucifer: It is- man flesh? Really?

Adam: ...

Lucifer: ...

Adam: *stabs sickle into his leg and drags him away* Mother!

I have seen it! Ha I love this. ((Yes he'd rock being the Lady of the house 😩))

Lucifer: Ow!! What the fuck!?

Adam: It's not gay! Mother was right.

[jabbage]

A fun fact about Kickstarter is that if you go four weeks without posting an update, people can press a button to tell Kickstarter a creator isn't updating enough and they get a scary red email. I have done five personal kickstarter campaigns and been involved in a handful more, and I don't believe anyone has ever pressed that button on me because I keep people informed. Even if I go over a month without updating, I try to be really clear about timescales and what I'm working on.

For Beekeeper's Picnic, there's someone who presses that button every single time I let things go more than four weeks. Even if I've specified the date the next update will be, even if I've explained not to expect updates for a certain period of time, even if I'm visibly posting bits and bobs on social media.

There was even one time I'd just posted an update and had to get it taken down by Kickstarter due to an actor leaving the project, which made the KS system think I hadn't updated in five weeks. They even pressed it then. Even though they must have just had an email from me.

At this point, it feels like they don't even read the updates?

The first time it happened I was really upset and worried about it, like I genuinely lost sleep over it and had to take time out of making the game to rush through an update. At this point I've realised it doesn't make the Kickstarter Police come and kick your door in, and I don't want to reinforce the behaviour that reporting me to KS makes me suddenly abandon my planned timescales, so I'm trying to be chill about it.

I know as well as anyone who has contributed to a crowdfunding campaign that it's worrying when they go quiet, but I wish this person would cut me a little slack. I think it's so obvious that I'm putting a lot of energy into keeping people informed.