#lots of all caps. hm.

[capricioussun]

My Wrapped is wild this year I don't remember half the songs on it... but I hit shuffle 5 times, enjoy :)

27: anyone can find love. (except you) -hkmori

4: Grandma (Destruction) - Kuniyuki Takahashi

9: Pick a F**icking Car - Dan Mason

23: Backlight - Ado

76: Heeding the Call - HammerFall

I collect the songs off the ground like birdseed sprinkled just for me tytyty ✨

In return I offer

27. SIXFT - I DONT KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME

4. Vignette - twenty one pilots

9. BlackBoxWarrior - OKULTRA - Will Wood

23. DOWNSIDE - I DONT KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME

76. DESTROYA - My Chemical Romance

[pavlovianpanic]

nathan fighting mark quietly on victoria in the dark room / mark using this angle to get nathan to do what he wants and bring him the right girls / mark knowing there's still a niche market for a girl like victoria so it's not a waste / nathan actively always bringing up victoria because he relies on her, so mark knows she is a weakness, and sees them together is complicated

[namelessprince]

HES. DECAYING???

[jamminvroomvroom]

no more mister shy guy.

OP x fem!reader

in which you can’t work out why he just won’t sleep with you

i am neither normal, nor am i hinged! i hope you guys get the vision, i literally wrote this last night possessed by some feral urge bc i just love oscar sm and i’ve been needing to write for him sooo baaad. enjoy! pls lemme know what you think <3

songs to set the vibes: delicate by taylor swift, good looking by suki waterhouse, my kind of woman by max demarco, feeling myself by wolf alice

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, pwp but also there is some plot? overstimulation, crying in a hot way, choking, unprotected sex (L bozo don’t do that!) the most minor moment of angst, fluff

2.8k words

you watch him make coffee, daydreaming, balancing your heavy head on your hand. you study him while your free hand taps against the kitchen counter, nails drumming a random beat. sunlight streams through a gap in the curtains, framing him golden. you don’t think he knows how pretty he is.

oscar is oblivious to the way your mind is ticking behind him, twisting the cap on the carton of oat-milk. you hear the plastic fall onto the counter and your tongue wets your lower lip as he reaches up into the cupboard, his back flexing beneath his shirt as he finds your favourite mug. you realise then how swollen your lip is, snapped out of the trance he had you in, the one that had you biting your lip so hard, completely mindlessly.

he’s bulked up over the winter break, filled out a lot over the course of his rookie season. he’s no longer the scrawny, anxious guy you’d met at your fathers work event a year ago, he’s broader, thicker in your hands, utterly delicious. as much as you like the way he looks, you like his mind a whole lot more. if only you knew what was going on inside it.

oscar is an enigma, quiet, hilariously dry, the kindest man you’d ever had the pleasure of meeting. you’ve been together since the start of the winter break, november, after awkward run ins and plenty of pining since the start of his first season. you’d travel to races with your dad, a mclaren sponsor, and run into the australian, stare at each other and pretend no one noticed. after months of teasing from lando, oscar finally got the kick up the arse that he needed and you’d said yes to dinner before he’d even finished asking the question.

it’s february now, a week til he needs to be in bahrain. the last three months had been serene, spent with a man made of sunshine, and you’re sad to see him go, as if you won’t be in the emirates a mere four days after him. you fear the way you’ll ache for him, having been inseparable since the dinner that started it all.

but then again, it can’t be worse than the way you ache for him now.

“sweetheart?” oscar is waving his hand in front of your face when you realise he’s been calling your name for a good 15 seconds, and you have, in fact, been staring. hm? you jump, staring at him bewildered. he looks amused. “you okay?” he coos, sliding the coffee across the island towards you.

“yeah, sorry, i, um, i just- why won’t you have sex with me?” you blurt, slapping your hand over your mouth as soon as you realise what you’ve just said.

oscar just blinks, mouth forming a little o, the permanent blush he seems to have increasing tenfold. you instantly feel guilty for ambushing him, but you were at the end of your tether. three months of nothing, nada, zilch. every move you made was refuted, ignored as if he was oblivious. you were ravenous for him, he’s so gorgeous! and you didn’t want to pressure him, but you were starting to feel like there was something wrong with you.

you’d wake up in bed with him wrapped around you, grinding against your ass in his sleep, and you’d revel in it, the rare times that he actually seemed to want you like that. you loved him regardless, of course you did, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t need to be… dealt with. urgently.

“i- um- what?” oscar splutters, and the bottom of his mug blinks against the granite.

“is there something wrong with me? am i not pretty enough?” you whisper, shy. “do you just not… like- do you not want to do that?” you ramble.

panic fills his face, and he’s rushing around the island, by your side in an instant. he takes your hands into his, finding your eyes. they’ve grown watery, a mixture of guilt and desperation swirling in them which makes him feel ill.

“baby, no, god no.” he rushes the words out, desperate to convince you that it wasn’t you. “you’re the most beautiful person in the entire world, prettiest girl i ever saw.” he promises. “i’m just… it’s scary.”

“oh, osc.” your face falls, and you want to throw yourself off of the balcony. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to pressure you. if it makes you feel better, i’m scared too. but i love you so much, i just want to feel even closer to you.”

“you didn’t make me feel pressured, i’m just sorry i made you feel unwanted. trust me, i want you like that. drives me insane. but i’ve never had sex before with someone that i love. not the way i love you, anyway. scared that i won’t be good enough for you.” he murmurs.

you’re hung up on the part where you drive him crazy, the part where he loves you like that, and then you remember how vulnerable he’s being, baring his entire soul to you, and you rip yourself from the fantasy.

your hands smooth over his shoulders, until you’re softly fisting a clump of hair at the nape of his neck.

“i love you. insanely. we’ll go slow.” you state. he moulds further against you, and you quickly realise it’s for leverage, because the next thing you know, you’re in his arms. he has his hands hooked under your thighs and he’s kissing you so, so deeply that you’re dizzy. you don’t realise that you’re halfway to his bedroom until he pulls away.

“i don’t wanna go slow anymore.”

oscar places you on your feet at the end of his bed, the large, plush king-sized mattress that is currently calling both of your names. your blouse gets unbuttoned first, his hands shaking in a way that makes you melt, and his lips trail over every inch of bare skin that he uncovers. when it finally falls to the floor, his pupils are blown wide, his hands palming intricate black lace. your jeans are stripped away mercilessly, his hands shaking less now, and you take it as a sign to crawl backwards onto the bed.

he stands there, watching you, apprehensive again. you can see how hard he is, how desperately strained his cock is through the light grey of his sweatpants, and so you switch tactics. your hand grazes your tummy, skimming up your abdomen until you reach a bra strap. you toy with the elastic, holding the kind of eye contact that makes him twitch, tugging it until it hangs loosely off of your shoulder.

“i need you, osc. i trust you.” you utter, soft and enticing. one finger runs under the cup of your bra, flicking over your nipple. he can just about see the hardened bud through the lace of your bra. it’s not enough, though, and every ounce of self control depletes when you whine, “want you inside of me so badly.”

the elastic band snaps and he’s on top of you, rutting between your legs like a man starved. you drag his shirt up and over his shoulder blades, moaning as you feel each and every muscle under your fingertips.

“just wanna make you feel good.” oscar rasps, rolling his hips even harder into your core.

“take these off.” you beg, pulling at the waistband of his joggers. he somehow musters the strength to pry himself off of you, just long enough to discard the uncomfortable material of his sweats, but as soon as he looks down, his plans change.

painted over the crotch of them is a shiny pool of your slick, and when his eyes flit hungrily to your core, he sees where you’ve soaked through your panties. you’re panting when you see the stain, and you just want to get him inside of you, but his priorities have changed. oscar collapses between your legs, head buried, tongue exploring.

he groans, carnal and needy, into the fabric of your underwear, laving his tongue over the lace. your eyes widen as he dives in, licking over the wet patch until he grows frustrated. you hear the tearing of the fabric, feel his big hands pawing at your thighs to spread them as wide as they’ll go. his tongue slides right inside of you and he whines. he fucking whines. the vibration nearly makes you scream. you can’t believe this is your oscar, the same oscar that had quivered with nerves a mere five minutes ago.

“oh my god.” you chant, rolling your hips against his face. you must be all over him by now, what with the way he’s sucking and slurping, obscene sounds of wetness sounding around the room. you’d be blushing a deep red if you weren’t so turned on, shaking against his bedspread which will probably need changing once he’s done with you.

you thought that maybe he was inexperienced and that was the source of his fear, but if he was, you never would have known. he was a natural in between your legs, nipping at your clit to get you even louder for him.

you cum faster than ever, and he’s mumbling something incoherent into your pussy when you do. you’re riding the high, midway through the bliss, when a thick finger slips its way inside of you. oscar realises that he can easily slide another in, and he does. he doesn’t thrust them in and out, he grinds them against your walls, and your mouth falls open as a silent scream forces it’s way out.

you cum a second time, in record time yet again, and he still doesn’t let up. he’s hitting that spot relentlessly with his fingers, keeping your clit between his swollen lips, and you’re begging him. for what, you’re not sure, but you’re whimpering his name like you’re going to die. and what a good way to go this would be.

his eyes meet yours, and he looks unhinged. that’s when you feel it. that all consuming, belly twisting rush.

“oscar!” you try to warn him, but it’s too late, and he knows it. he makes you squirt, because of course he does. the shy guy who was scared that he wouldn’t be able to please you makes you squirt.

he pulls his mouth off of you but keeps his fingers buried deep, eyes fixed on watching the way your pussy convulses.

“holy shit.” you cry. you’re staring down at him like you’ve gone insane. he’s smiling innocently.

“was that good?” he almost sounds shy and you want to kick him.

“are you… are you serious?” you rasp. oscar just shrugs. “get up here.” you reach for him and complies, slotting himself between your legs once more.

oscar resumes the rolls of his hips, and the friction of the grey fabric against your core makes your eyes roll back.

“please, oscar, fuck me.” you whine, his head falling into the crook of your neck. he bites down, leaving behind the sting of his teeth and a faint purple splotch.

“fucking love you.” he slurs, his accent thickening in a way that makes him sound that extra bit fucked out already.

“i love you.” you murmur, forcing his sweats down his legs. his boxers are wet, just like your panties were, and you can’t help but stare. oh, it’s big.

his boxers are peeled down and you can feel yourself throbbing. his cock hangs heavy, red and dripping, painfully hard. you reach for it, looking at him to make sure it’s okay to touch, and he’s rapidly nodding his head. your small hand struggles but you make it work, and his head tips back, exposing his thick neck that you want to suck purple. your hand works over him a few times, and a visible shiver running through his body makes you stop.

“you ready for me?” he asks through gritted teeth.

“please.” you gasp, locking your legs around his waist. “however you want me, ‘m yours.” you breathe.

oscar’s eyes roll back in his head, your words sending his brain blank, and then he’s pushing home, slow and deep.

“fucking hell.” he groans, guttural. you’re so tight, warm, soaking wet. he feels like the biggest idiot in the world for waiting so long for this.

“oh.” you gasp, your eyebrows knitting together. he’s so deep. “so full.” you pant.

“can you take it, sweetheart?” oscar’s lips bump your jaw. “want you to take it.” you nod profusely, desperate to hear him run his mouth even further. your eyes clench shut when you feel him move, just the tiniest bit, readjusting.

“move.” you plead. he’s staring down at you, watching every single micro movement of your face.

oscar pulls out the smallest bit and thrusts back in, nice and slow. the drag drives you feral, the weight of him on top of you makes you weak. you want to stay like this until the end of days.

“good?” he hisses, trying to keep composed. he’s finally inside of you, claiming you as his in the most intimate way of all. he tries not to think about how many times he could have had you begging under him in the last three months.

“so good, so good.” you repeat, pushing your hips up to try and meet his.

“so pretty like this for me. always so, so pretty.” he rambles. he realises that he never quite made it as far as getting your bra off, and he needs to see all of you. the cups are tugged haphazardly down, and oscar stares at your breasts like he’s never seen tits before. you hear him hum, low and greedy, and then you feel the wet drag of his tongue across your nipple.

the animalistic whine that he rips from you makes him thrust harder, upping his pace a bit. he can hear how much wetter you get when he picks up his pace, and he changes up his rhythm, pushing all the way in and dragging out again at lightning speed. your jaw goes slack and your eyes are damp.

“baby, what’s wrong?” oscar slows to a stop, and you want to scream.

“no, no, no, keep going.” you choke out, your throat constricting with a sob. “it’s so good. feel so good.” you sound drunk, all for him, and he loses his mind completely.

he taps into that athletic stamina, fucking into you with a newfound vigour that you didn’t think was humanly possible, and you feel things that you didn’t even know you could feasibly feel. you see stars behind your eyes, his face, and nothing else but bright white. calloused fingers find your clit, and you wonder fleetingly if he’s trying to kill you when he rubs messy shapes into the much too overstimulated bud. his teeth graze your nipple, and everything seems to come together perfectly.

thick tears run hot down your cheeks, only to be licked away by eager tongue. your belly tightens, aflame for him; he’s wound your body up perfectly and you’ve never in your life teetered so dangerously over the edge.

“can feel you, baby. want you to cum, okay? ‘n then i’m gonna fill you up.” oscar grunts. you clamp down on him even tighter, thanking god for oscar’s filthy fucking mouth and birth control, and then everything snaps.

you think you scream, you know that you’re sobbing, and your throat is raw when the wave hits. oscar keeps going, intensifying your pleasure, and when he finally let’s go, it’s the most beautiful fucking thing you’ve ever seen. it’s surreal, the way his neck flexes, eyes clenched tight, brown locks flopping over his sweat damped forehead. and the sounds he makes, god. he’s muttering into your ear, lewd and shameless, and a fifth orgasm nearly takes you under.

“gonna need you everyday like this, tight fucking pussy, all mine. can’t live without this now. fucking perfect.” he’s rambling, burrowing deep into you one last time. you feel his warmth spilling into you, feel his hot breath fanning your face. he licks into your awaiting mouth.

“fuck.” you giggle, breathless.

“good?” he raises an eyebrow, grinning bashfully.

“more than worth the wait.” you whisper, mustering the strength to lift your head just enough so that you can peck his lips. “you better not hold out on me ever again though.” oscar laughs at that and you feel the rumble in your flushed chest.

“you promise?” there’s the shy guy again.

“osc, honey, that was the best. ever. ever. need you to be mr sex god more often.”

“only if you behave for me.” he smirks down at you.

“there he is.” you sigh happily.

when he snakes his way back between your legs, lapping up the mess he’s made, and then some, you wonder just what you’ve unleashed.

-

whoops? lol

-

taglist

@thegirlinthefandoms @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys  @rachstash @infinitebells @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @nokiaholland @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit @youdontknowmeshh @im-an-overthinker @jule239 @darleneslane @jazzy722 @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @therealone4r @pleasecallmeunhinged @theonlyadrienne @spideylovin @charli123456789

(run outta space on my taglist lol, lemme know if u wanna be added or removed)

[sweetpupii]

“so,” powder started, holding your chin and tilting it upward to examine your features under the light of her room. she didn’t want to risk any mistakes with the contouring or the symmetry of your eyeshadow.

doing your makeup for parties had become her thing now.

“do you want me to match your hair like I did with mine, or should I choose another color?” please let me match it to your hair, please let me match it to your hair… “since we're going bold tonight.”

navy melted beautifully into ocean blue across her lids, magenta lit up her inner corners, and indigo traced her lower eyelids in a soft, smoky line—softening her piercing blue eyes. berry colored lipstick and a tiny smile completed the look.

a damn sight for sore eyes—that’s what powder was.

“hm, which one would look better?”

yes! that was an answer she liked. let her do the thinking; you just sit there and let her transform your pretty face with her arsenal of pigments. glitter? the palette was already sprawled on the floor, waiting. natural colors? sure, pretty boring, but you do you! neon colors? oh boy, how she loved those.

“i’ll take care of it. just don’t move. if you mess it up we’ll be late.” like last time.

matte lipstick is not easy to clean up after a few ( whole lot of ) kisses. things got a bit out of control, okay? it’s not her fault you looked good!

…well, technically it was her fault because she did your makeup that day, but still. she wanted to kiss you before that.

“oh, come on, it doesn’t tickle,” she pointed out as your eyes fluttered slightly at the touch of the fine eyeliner brush. experienced hands meticulously painted your eyelids, determined to follow their natural shape and bring out the color of your pupils. “look up at me, gotta do the waterline.”

maybe asking you to look directly at her the whole time was a mistake. the closeness was suddenly too distracting—your lips slightly parted as your eyes went up to meet hers, and she carefully applied the pigment.

that shade of lipstick you picked would look real nice mixed with hers…

focus, powder. just do her makeup.

“what’s with the eyes, sunny?” the blue-haired girl spoke after a while, holding your chin still, almost done with the eyeshadow.

“what do you mean?”

“those doe-y ones you’re giving me right now.”

your scoff only made it harder for her to focus on the task ahead. “pow, looking up because you asked me to doesn’t mean I’m giving you doe eyes. It’s your own thing if you get distracted that easily.”

“distracted? pft, no way. I’m completely focused here,” she argued with an unbothered shrug and roll of her eyes, as if she didn’t care. She dipped her brush back into the shimmering shade, determined to keep her hands steady despite the warmth crawling up her neck.

instead of poking fun at her, you stayed still as her delicate hands worked, her features drawn into a look of concentration that was almost as mesmerizing as the makeup itself. eyebrows slightly furrowed as she focused on making the look even.

“‘kay, done with the eyes,” she announced after a moment, pulling back slightly to admire her handiwork. the colors on your lids blended seamlessly into one another, like a miniature galaxy. “and now for the lips…”

powder reached for the lipstick you had picked earlier but hesitated with a thoughtful sigh, her eyes darting between the tube and your mouth.

“you sure you don’t want me to choose a different color? this one’s nice and all, but…” her voice trailed off.

“but what?”

her manicured nails tapped against the lipstick cap while comparing it to the lipstick she had used on herself. “I mean… this shade’s good, but mine would… y’know, match better. just saying.”

definitely not an excuse to kiss you.

masterlist ♡ taglist — @ananas26t @b3autyist3rror :3

[machveil]

CoD Headcanon: Fashion

let me info dump on how I think the CoD men would dress, pretty puh-lease? Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, Simon “Ghost” Riley, John “Soap” MacTavish, John Price, Gary “Roach” Sanderson, Keegan Russ, and König

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick:

actually wanted to make this post because of him, “Thank you, Kyle.”, we all say in unison

I oh so desperately think he dresses so casually it looks clean as fuck. he’s definitely the best dressed out of the 141, in my opinion. going for groceries? meeting up at a pub? Kyle looks great! also, bottom left photo? holding true to the board, I firmly believe Kyle has totes - different colors, some with logos, a couple well used and loved. totes and caps, Kyle has a nice collection

my fun little headcanon is that Kyle will match his outfits to whatever hat or tote he plans on using for the day. and he has a wardrobe to match - t-shirts, button ups, jumpers, turtlenecks, Kyle has variety. a lot of them are gifts from his family (who have his fashion sense down to a science). his aunts and uncles definitely pay the most attention to what Kyle’s wearing whenever they see him, they never miss when buying him new jeans or shoes

Simon “Ghost” Riley:

as fearsome and intimidating as Ghost is, draped in military gear and holsters, Simon prefers to be comfortable. a majority of his civvies are for his comfort, soft and warm jumpers that bag a little. he keeps it simple, his signature black clothes are really the only thing that carries over from service. that said, I think he’d look good in brown too. still a noticeably darker color compared to most, but it gives a nice contrast to his usual monotone look

it might seem counterintuitive to wear long sleeves when he’s had all this tattoo work done on his arms - fair enough - but I don’t think Simon necessarily cares to show them off. he has his fair share of t-shirts, but he really only wears them when it’s exceptionally warm out. that, or Simon has them on as an undershirt at the gym, hidden beneath his black hoodies. does the 141 poke fun at him for dressing nearly all black every time they see him? yes they do, does Simon care? no, he’s a sucker for a dark aesthetic

John “Soap” MacTavish:

Johnny dresses like he’s ready to go to the gym, but it’s why we love him. I swear, it could be freezing outside and Johnny would be wearing short, he’s definitely one of those people, “Hm? Nah, m’not cold.”, he’s actively trying to not let his teeth chatter. Johnny loves a good hoodie, especially if they have drawstrings - this man has an oral fixation, let him chew on those strings, damnit! oftentimes the drawstrings on his hoodies are fucked up and thready because he’ll absentmindedly nosh on them

I’m not afraid to say he’s the closest on this whole headcanon post to dressing like Adam Sandler - there’s definitely been times he wore the rattiest clothes ever outside and people mistook him for being homeless. the nicest thing he’ll consider wearing out is a t-shirt, zip-up hoodie, and jeans. I think Johnny’s a little nose blind to his own scent, sometimes he’ll think a hoodie is clean but he forgot he sweated his ass off in it two days ago at the gym. puts it on because… well, it just smells like him, surely it doesn’t reek

John Price:

I had such a hard time finding photos that matched my thoughts, but when I found them? oh, these matched. I’d like to call Price’s look “blue collar husband comes home after work” - do we get that vibe? simple man, he likes his blue jeans and a plain shirt. has a wide variety of nice, leather belts though, the only bit of his wardrobe he really splurges on. the simplest out of the 141, but he cleans up nicely with just a shirt and some jeans that hug his thighs just right

he’s a fan of t-shirts, the fact they show off his biceps is purely coincidence. he low-key dresses like a dad, but he rocks the look. he’s definitely the type to have vintage leather jackets, beat up, brown coats that are durable. they’ve seen better days, were new and shiny once, but John likes them a little weathered and worn. he’s not beating the bucket hat allegations

Gary “Roach” Sanderson:

I’d love to say ‘I don’t make the rules’, but I do. I’m putting my foot down and saying Gary dresses like this. he always wears a white t-shirt, is it the same one? does he have dozens? who knows! he’ll causally swap between pants and shorts, whichever is appropriate for the weather. button ups, he owns so many. never buttons them, just wears them open over his t-shirts. it’s casual, but the simplicity of it unironically makes his outfit look super clean

Gary will dress this way until the day he dies. it’s just how he dresses, no variation unless there’s an important event - holidays, an army shindig, I dunno, a wedding (if he could, he’d show up in his usual civvies). you would have to beg Gary to try a different style, he’s silently stubborn about it. he doesn’t make a fuss if you buy him a hoodie or sweater, just know he’ll throw a quiet strike by tucking it into the back of his closet

Keegan Russ:

biblically accurate Keegan Russ is a biker, what can I say. two words: leather jackets. he likes the aesthetic, owns a handful - hand-me-downs, thrifted, vintage, new. a majority of his wardrobe is black, I personally think his favorite color is blue, but he enjoys wearing black more. he likes wearing t-shirts, purposefully showing off his well-trained arms. he really only owns jeans, maybe a pair of nice slacks

you know what? gonna be honest, not much to add on, I just think Keegan is hot and would wear this haha. it’s nothing flashy, but if you’re into bikers it’s definitely eye catching. on another note, I think he’d paint his nails matte black. do I have any reasoning? no, I just think he would, or maybe just a clear coat. that, and he definitely wears silver rings. not all the time, but he does wear them on occasion

König:

if König isn’t in fatigues he still looks blatantly military. now, I didn’t include it in the board, but he has way too many pairs of khaki cargo pants. like an absurd amount - imagine a reasonable number of cargo pants and then add ten more pairs. back to the board, man cannot escape camouflage and green in general. whether it’s pants, shirts, or sweaters, König has it in some shade of green

otherwise, he actually enjoys itchy, scratchy sweaters. you know the kind that makes your skin red after wearing it a little too long? König eats that up, for whatever reason it feels nice to him. course, he does have standard, comfortable sweaters and hoodies. it’s a bit of a hassle to find clothes in his size though, sure they make them big, but König would appreciate if they were more fit to his build than overly baggy. lucky for him, his mama was a seamstress and taught him how to sew - he adjusts his clothing as he sees fit (he’ll still grumble about it though)

manifesting just one CoD man into being so I can play dress up with them🎀✨pretty please, I just wanna make him look so good - Soap and Roach might put up a fight though…

thanks for reading my behemoth of a post<3 hugs and kiss🌸✨

[lovebugism]

smutty requests you say... maybe eddie x reader fooling around secretly, while wayne's home? so like a little exhibitionism kink?

i'm just now realizing i totally misread the prompt so pls forgive me anon, i'll happily write a part 2 to this if u want!! — the first time uncle wayne catches you and eddie in the act™ (established relationship, inspired by this universe, smut 18+ | 1.3k)

“Alright. I’m headed out,” Wayne announces in a gravelly drawl, huffing as he rises from his creaking recliner. His work boots sound heavy on the worn carpet as he trudges towards the front door, closer to a wretched and unavoidable graveyard shift. His old bones are weighed down by a preemptive dread and a homemade meal you cooked with him in mind.

Eddie feels bad for being so happy to see him leave.

“Have fun,” the boy lilts playfully from where he’s sprawled along the couch, smiling wide with his head tilted to his shoulder.

Wayne grumbles vaguely in response.

“Bye, Mr. Munson,” you grin more sincerely than the boy beside you.

The man flashes you a mere hint of a grin, which is a whole lot more than most people get these days. He pulls a worn baseball cap over his balding head and nods once in your direction. “Bye, sweetpea,” he responds in his usual gritty and melodic Southern cadence.

The rusted hinges of the screen door squeal open and shut behind him. A wintery breeze billows in, briefly piercing the heated trailer and biting at Eddie’s burning skin. 

You idle on the other side of the couch, with your eyes drawn to the sitcom playing in static colors ahead of you — unaware of your boy’s building desire and far too distant for his liking. Eddie marvels at your profile, unabashed and boyish, and waits for the perfect moment to strike.

He hears Wayne’s truck door close with a muffled thud. The ignition rattles for a moment, then roars when amber headlights shine suddenly through the sheer curtains. Eddie waits until he hears the tires crunch against the gravel drive before he pounces on you, like unsuspecting prey to a predator of unbridled longing.

You squeal when his mouth locks suddenly with your pulse, warm and wet on your unkissed skin. He wraps you in his arms like he intends to smother you against him. You swear you can feel his heart racing against your shoulder. His tongue darts along the most sensitive spot on your neck, and your head tips back with an airy laugh.

“What?” Eddie mumbles, muffled into your skin.

“Nothing,” you giggle. “Just thought you’d last longer than that.”

“Hm. Feel like I’ve heard that one before.”

“Shut up,” you gripe, but pull him impossibly closer just the same.

You bury your nose in his wild curls, inhaling the sweet scent of his conditioner and the subtle skunky smell of weed. He mouths at your neck with an intentional sloppiness that makes your eyes flutter.

Eddie grumbles a moan against your skin, which you feel in little tingles in the pit of your stomach. “You taste good,” the boy observes mindlessly into your pulse.

“I taste like sweat,” you scoff against his temple. “I still need to shower.”

“What’s the point? You’re just gonna get dirty again.”

Eddie pulls away with a soft smack. His lips are rosy and softly swollen as they curl into a grin. His chocolate eyes swim with mischief as yours narrow into a squint. “You’re such a boy,” you deadpan.

“Just love you,” the boy shrugs. “That’s all.”

You’re grateful when his lips finally meet yours. You’re only able to breathe when he’s kissing you, in a heavy exhale through your nose that fans along his cupid’s bow. He licks into your mouth tasting like a homecooked meal and nicotine and boy. Something foreign and nostalgic and tender. You melt into him accordingly. 

When he urges you to lay back against the couch, you let him. You cradle his face in your hands to keep him close as he props himself on his forearms, careful not to crush you despite his efforts to kiss the breath from your lungs. His weight is a comforting one anyway — body warm and lean and pleasantly heavy on top of yours.

You forget to take another breath until Eddie pulls away. You inhale deeply, lungs grateful for air, as the boy’s mouth treks down your jaw.

He leaves a trail of wet kisses down your neck and collarbone, spit cooling and drying again on your skin. Goosebumps pebble in their wake, while his hand slides down your stomach.

His fingertips creep into the waistline of your pajama pants, perhaps a fruitless distraction from the lovebite he sucks just below your jaw. It’s a burning sensation of his teeth, followed by a warmer, more pleasant one as his tongue smooths over the bite.

“What are you? A vampire?” you giggle, fingers twisting in his hair.

You feel his smile curl into your neck. “Maybe,” he quips.

“I have to go leave eventually. You know that, right? And my roommates will freak if they see a hickey.”

Eddie whines between his kisses. “No, you don’t,” he insists with an audible frown. “Why can’t you just stay here forever?”

“Even if I wanted to, Wayne would still see. And that would be equally as horrifying.”

“He won’t be back until morning,” Eddie argues, punctuated by his teeth scraping your pulse. “It’ll be faded by then. Probably.” He licks over the bite and pulls away, peering down at you with a mischievous leer. “Unless… You want me to stop?” he offers in a sarcastic lilt.

You squirm under his gaze. “No…” you answer sheepishly.

He grins. “Then stop complaining, sweet thing.”

“Eddie,” you scold when the boy ducks down again, continuing his assault on your delicate skin, though you make no further attempt to stop him.

His kisses grow wetter and warmer and more languid as his hand travels down down down. A breathy moan catches in your throat when his calloused palm cups your bare pussy.

The damp, velvet feeling of you makes Eddie’s eyes widen. He didn’t know you’d be naked down there. He might’ve been more careful about it if he had.

“Shit,” he huffs.

“Sorry,” you squeak, face swirled apologetically.

Eddie pulls away again, head spinning as he stares down at you with heavy eyes. “No— Don’t— Don’t apologize for that shit, are you kidding?” he stammers, then laughs at how sorrowful you look. Like this could ever be a bad thing. “It’s hot.”

You smile sheepishly. “I’m just running out of clean clothes. That’s why I had to do the laundry today.”

“Well, next time, I’m just gonna lock the door to the washer,” Eddie retorts playfully. “So then you have to walk around naked.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re such a boy,” you repeat, right before you drag him down by his shoulders to swallow him in another kiss.

You lick into his mouth only to find that his hand had never wavered. He cups you delicately there still, and creeps his middle finger between your satiny folds. 

Your hips buck on instinct. His palm bumps your clit. Your moans entwine in a kiss.

The screen door opens again with another grating screech. You and Eddie part instantly, swollen mouths smacking as your heads turn in sync.

Wayne stills in the doorway, weathered face swirled in horror. Neither of you move for several long moments — like, if you stay still, you’ll turn invisible somehow.

“Really?” Wayne huffs. “On the couch?”

Eddie’s wide eyes dart awkwardly. “What are you doing here?” he wonders breathlessly, still on top of you and still with his hand down your pants.

“Forgot my damn wallet.” Wayne keeps his gaze averted as he trudges to the tiny, square dining table by the window. He tucks the leather billfold into the pocket of his navy jumpsuit and promptly returns the way he came.

You and Eddie spare a wordless look of horror between you in the meanwhile.

“Do it in a bed next time, alright?” Wayne advises from the doorway with his back facing you. The rusted door creaks open and, just before it shuts behind him, you hear him shout. “And use protection!”

[i-love-ptv]

Pope and reader taking the boat out and soaking up the sun! Reader is like laying out on the boat while pope steers to find a nice place to anchor! Lots of fluff and love sick individuales maybe some smut thrown in there? Anyways bookie adiós!

All Mine, All Mine ㅤᡣ𐭩

Pairing: Pope Heyward x Fem!Reader

You and Pope on the HMS Pougue! - Fluff, hints at sex at the end ;) (thinking abt making another part for smut??)

Wc: 1,067

An: GUYS. I DID IT. Not the longest, but not the shortest. I hope I did pooks justice 😣😣 Not proofread I fear, I didn’t feel like it..

Feedback always appreciated!! xxx

“Pope, honey, have you seen the bottle opener?”

“Uhh- it’s not in the basket?” Your darling boyfriend asks, briefly glancing back at you while he steers.

You rummage through the basket once more, despite already knowing the answer to Pope’s question.

“It’s not in there, y’know what, it’s fine.” You grab your cold beer bottle and angle the cap into your mouth.

You pop the cap off with your mouth, and Pope looks at you with mock horror.

You meet his eyes and ask, “What?” as you take a swig of the liquid.

“That may just have been one of the craziest things I’ve ever seen you do, babe.” He says as he side-eyes you.

“In a good way or a bad way?” You ask while chuckling, quirking your brow over your sunglasses.

He smiles, showing that boyish charm, “I haven’t really decided yet..” He replies.

“Whatever loser, have we found a spot yet?” You tease, as you look up at the sky.

You glance at Pope, finding that he was already looking at you. It seems that he does that a lot.

“Wellll.. If someone wasn’t always groaning about how the sun is ‘directly’ in her eye, we would’ve already stopped and started eating” Pope sasses, but you know that he didn’t mind. After all, he couldn’t let his woman feel any kind of discomfort, especially when he’s around.

You pout at him, and say, “Well, we only have the Pougie for a ‘lil while, we gotta make this perfect.”

Pope beams at this, “I know baby, I think this spot is good.”

He stops the boat and walks over to you. He lays down next to you, and props his elbow up to lean on it.

You peer up at him, having put your sunglasses on the top of your head

“Grape?” You ask as you grab a few from the container of fruit you brought with you.

Pope inches closer to your fingers until you lightly push the grape into his mouth. He hums in delight.

“I got these ones from a new place this time, they’re good, right?” You exclaim excitedly, referencing the last store you went to to buy grapes, where the grapes were more sour than sweet.

Pope faintly drags out a ‘mhm’ while gazing at you, almost as if he can see through your eyes and into your soul.

“You have the prettiest eyes, y’know that?” Pope says, in almost a daze-like state.

You smirk at his words, “Oh yeah? I don’t think I’ve ever gotten that one before..”

You continue, “But I have heard that I have the perfect smile, a strong mind, and an amazingggg personality.”

“Oh shush, ‘s not my fault you’re perfect.” Pope says through a whisper, as his eyes flicker from yours to your lips.

He starts to lean in, and you meet him halfway, letting your lips connect and dance around with one another.

One kiss leads to multiple pecks, which of course, leads to a passionate makeout, as your bodies explore each other as if they’re foreign.

You’re arm flies out, accidentally knocking over your speaker, which quietly plays ‘Call Me By Your Name’ by Sophie Castillo.

You feel Pope’s warm hand brush down your back, and squeeze your ass firmly.

You softly gasp at this, and your hand reaches up to his head, grabbing his backwards hat and placing it on your own head loosely.

Pope grins through your shared kisses.

Abruptly, you hear a familiar ringtone.

Pope breaks the kiss with the groan, shuffling through his pockets to find his phone ringing, notifying him that none other than JJ Maybank is calling him.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, trying to listen to the faint sounds of JJ speaking on the phone.

Pope looks at you with sincerity. He now regrets keeping his ringer on, despite you telling him to keep it off, like how you did with yours, so the two of you could remain uninterrupted.

But Pope being Pope, he kept it on, thinking that he would only be called for any serious emergencies.

“Yes. Yes. JJ, I hear y-“ You assume Pope is cut off by the blonde, for he stops and releases a deep sigh.

“Okay, yes, we’ll bring the boat back John B, relax.” Pope says, as he hangs up the phone, not wanting to hear JJ or John B continue to speak any longer.

Pope looks at you sadly, wishing that you two could remain at peace by yourselves.

“Well, I suppose we should head back before they have our heads.” You say with a twinge of sadness.

Pope kisses your forehead, and squeezes your hand. He starts to try and pack up the leftover remnants of food that was in the basket, before you stop him.

“Baby, don’t worry about it, I got it. Let’s just start going, okay?” You say as you leave a kiss onto his plump lips.

He sighs, “Alright…” And he walks off to the wheel to start the boat back up.

After you finish cleaning up the boat, and collecting any remaining trash, you go up behind Pope. You mean your head on his shoulder and reach around him to lightly scratch at his chest with your nails, just how he likes it.

Pope gasps, since he hasn’t heard you walk up over the motor of the HMS Pouge.

You begin to leave kisses on his neck and behind his ears.

“Babe…” Pope says softly, trying to turn and look at you.

You turn his head straight as you nibble on his earlobe, “Shhh baby, just keep going, okay? Get us home honey, I have something for you for when we get back.” You whisper out against Pope’s ear, making him shiver from the warmth of the contact; this makes you giggle.

As if he’d been starved of your touch for years, Pope, speeds off, making you laugh loudly, and wrap one arm gently around his neck, while the other holds his hat on top of your head.

Pope looks at the sunset, he thinks about how it reminds him of you. He doesn’t necessarily know exactly how at the moment, but he finds it pretty, just like you.

It makes him think about how you have the most pure, and beautiful soul, as if he could see through your eyes and into your soul.

Tagging ppl who commented on my post abt Pope. (If you want me to remove you, just lmk! <3)

Ps. if you’re name is in yellow, it means i couldn’t tag you :(

@v4mp1rr3 @mirellef2001 @loveharlow @nemesyaaa @cerya @ihe4rttwd @inlovewithpandora @cherriespopsicle

[captain-marble]

silly thought that i’ve been rotating at might write someday (although knowing me…)

anyways!

someone gets mad and pranks the justice league by releasing clips of their embarrassing moments on tower (nothing that could reveal identities but still embarrassing)

it’s stuff like marvel failing at cooking

batman being sleep deprived and trying to parent different league members (namely marvel)

flash running into walls and things (a lot)

superman being afraid of a shoe and litterally leaping into the air to get away from it. (it was green)

anyways everyone find this hillarious and the members are a lil mortified. But fawcett takes it into their own hands to give marvel food (litterally he has too much food to know what to do with) to the point he ends up like going around sharing it with the homeless kids and stuff

not only that but the league decide to take it into their own hands to teach marvel. cut to videos being released of marvel learning to cook with different leaguers

superman: marv can you pass me a rolling pin? so what you’ve got to do is-

marvel looking at a pot of utensils questioning…. before tentatively holding out a masher: ?

superman: (blinks)

supes probably teaches him how to make apple pie and talk about how if you don’t use the sugar you can use the pie crust to make savoury pies too and blah blah life hack. his parents probably mean he’s the worst offender for trying to shove food or recipes onto marvel

hal and barry prolly teach him how to make like single guy with a shitty job type grind shit that’s like carb loaded and you can just bulk make and store ands got everything you need (cuz they always busy as hell and ain’t rich or anything so don’t got the time or stuff to make tons of food) (it kinda looks like struggle food but yk it gets them through)

hal: so yeah you just dump everything in and if it starts to look radioactive then you know it’s cooked-

billy ‘orphan street rat will eat anything’ batson: damn bitch you live like this? /silly

diana teaches him a greek dish from her childhood that she thinks marvel would feel nostalgic for (i mean billy doesn’t but he remembers eating it in past lives and the thought diana put into it really comforts him)

bruce either a) refuses to teach marvel anything as he himself cannot cook and won’t let the work know that (as all of these cooking videos have been being leaked to the internet who are EATING IT UP like it’s not just fawcett anymore everyone loves cap now becuase you can tell he’s just that authentic cuz his ass does not know these are being filmed) b) cannot cook so it ends up just being a hot mess c) they learn to make a new recipe together d) he has alfred teach him how to make something so he doesn’t embarrass himself e) he teaches marvel how to make struggle food that’s worse than hal and barry’s

marvel: aren’t you funded by a billionaire?

batman: hm

marvel: batman….damn bitch you live like this???????????

everyone just dogs on batman online for like banging bruce wayne (no one believes that the butts match :/ ) and yet still being ass at cooking, like bro is at nuclear levels of damn you live like this with his struggle food

anyways cap finds out about the cooking with cap vids and immediately gets all embarrassed that people know he sucks at cooking, fawcett lay off a little on giving him food now they know that the JL are helping him, but he regularly receives copies of old cook books and someone’s nans favourite recipe and stuff and he’s taking home enough food from the JL to actually eat well and is therefore a lot happier and so the JL are like wow marv really likes cooking, and so at least like once a week (usually more) someone (or sometimes just he will) will cook with him and he’ll take home the left overs (if people eat any otherwise he just takes it all himself (despite him frantically offering the food out to people cuz he feels bad for taking so much))

years later when the identity reveal happens they’re like wow??? this makes so much sense???? i’m so glad we’ve been inadvertently feeding the homeless child??? yippee for him not starving and being more healthy that he would’ve been????

but yeah it’s so silly and i think billy would actually love having the chance to eat foods he’s never had before, especially where he spent so long on the streets that he kinda was forced to like ration and buy cheap food, so like he’s being treated by trying new foods and risking not liking it and stuff

but yeah i just think cap cooking and baking is neat teehee

[beiasluv]

lego schumacher | m. schumacher (47)

a/n: i know the title is irrelevant lmaoo deal w it ;> it’s rushed, i don’t like it. Enjoyyyy

yourinsta’s story

reply

mickschumacher’s story | mick’s chat

reply

yourinsta

liked by oscarpiastri, estabanocon and 276,156 others

yourinsta it’s time for some photo dump

- your favorite driver 😉 (sorry mick)

view all 87,517 comments

mickschumacher you should be apologizing to me -yn 😒

yourinsta seems like you have a phone 🤷‍♂️

mickschumacher i will not condone getting pics dump without my permission :(

sebastianvettel cute pictures!

yourinsta exactly!

mickschumacher LANDO no more stroopwafels

yourinsta 😨 i apologize

mickschumacher Good.

username YNNNN??? Thank you lando for doing the work of god

username facts. everyone say thank you landooo

username soo…are they together??

username hm i don’t really know, she must like estaban a lot 🤷‍♀️

mickschumacher

liked by yourinsta, gerogerussell63 and 486,528 others

mickschumacher great to be back 🤍

view all 196,351 comments

yourinsta it’s great to have my phone back ☺️

liked by mickschumacher

lewishamilton great caps! you sure she’s allowed to wear that legally? 👊

georgerussell63 orange’s her color, i think… 🤷‍♂️

landonorris obviously

username sooo…lando knows yn’s password or what??

username are we not talking about the fact that mick let her use his phone all the time???

username I AMMM MEEE

username naur. he didn’t even hesitate

username does this mean yn knows mick’s password 🤭

username COUPLE SHARING PHONE ALERT 🚨

yourinsta

liked by mickschumacher, mclaren and 296,378 others

yourinsta it’s good to have my phone back and here’s my official weekly report (photo dump 🤭)

peace out, engineer of the year 😚

view all 71,721 comments

mclaren fia you heard her. engineer of the year 🧡

yourinsta NEVER BACK DOWN NEVER WHAT

landonorris NEVER GIVE UPP

mickschumacher thank you liebing 🤍

yourinsta 🤍 angiee

username LIEBING CONFIRMED

username Sebastian German lesson payed OFF

username TEAM GERMANYYYY 🦅🦅

yourinsta’s story

reply

thinking abt writing for sebastian or albon!reader?? or them combined?? lmk.

like, reblog, do whatever the heck thank yew. If not, 😠 JK

today’s a great day to take care of yourself!!!

[floralscented]

ㅤ ㅤㅤmy boy's a mechanic! . . . charlie baker.

────────────────────────────────────────────

you knew nothing about cars. not a thing. you put the key in the ignition, the engine started, and that was about it. being an only child, your dad thought that he'd make your life easier by never letting you struggle. that was how he ended up doing all of your mechanic work, sometimes even pumping your gas for you.

sure, it was nice; being spoiled always was. but the downsides came quickly when your parents were out of town, and your car spluttered to a stop on the side of the road.

couldn't call your dad, not wanting to stress him out. couldn't call your mom, because she'd tell your dad, and of course they would have come home to help you, but how awful would it be to be the sole reason their mini vacation was ruined?

so you called charlie. charlie was incredible self-sufficient; knew how to cook, worked maintenance on his family's cars, could fix most plumbing and technical issues around his house. all-in-all, he was a perfect choice to call in your troubles.

you stood outside in the blazing summer heat, the hood of your car propped open, and you staring inside at the engine and the mechanics, seeing a lot and understanding none of it.

"right, so you see the gas cap?" charlie's voice scratches through the receiver and into your ear. "open it, like you're fillin' your tank."

your arms cross over your chest, a little whine falling out of your mouth. "charlie, i have plenty of gas. i'm not going over there. it's somethin' with the engine or... something."

"mhm," charlie hums and clears his throat, "go to the side of the car, baby."

you bristle, slamming the hood of the car shut with your freed hand. "so, what, you want me to just look in there and see how full of gas my car definitely is?"

"i want you to look in there and make sure it's gas." he's always been patient with you, but it was clear that he had siblings, from the way it came so easily to talk back to you. "from what you're sayin', with the terrible grindin' noises and the splutters, could have been siphoned and replaced."

"hm."

charlie snorts. there's rustling on his end, and then his voice is back and clear. "hm. don't give me attitude, baby, i'll leave you on the side of the road."

the growl in your throat is entirely made up of the aggression starting to build inside of you. "you leave me on the side of the road, charlie baker, we're breaking up."

"no," charlie says, drawling the word out, and there's more scratchy sounds, like he's running the phone cord beneath his shirt and rustling it. "--you're brea'ing up. where r'you?"

"leaving the city. rural backroads or something." well, this was just great. car was maybe out of gas, engine was maybe shot, and you were without cell signal on the side of the road. you whine all over again. "charlie."

charlie sighs. "m'comin', okay? lemme grab s'tools and--" he cuts out, and then the line drops. you flip your phone shut and throw it in the open window of your car in fury. it wasn't his fault. none of this was charlie's fault. but you were definitely allowed to be angry when you were stuck on the side of the road for god knew how long.

the answer was twelve minutes. you sit in your driver's seat, watching the time tick by on the clock of your radio, and twelve minutes later you see the rusty outline of charlie's truck roll up behind you.

"supposed to have your hazards on when you're pulled off like this," he says immediately upon his arrival, and then he presses a kiss to your forehead. "hi baby."

your mouth twists into a devastated pout. "don't be sweet with me when you tried to tell me this was all because i'm out of gas."

his lips twitch, and he reaches up with the hand not holding a toolbox to adjust the brim of his red baseball cap. "'course it's not out of gas. your tire blew."

"what?" your shock is audible, leaning half out of the driver's side window to look at your two tires. sure enough, the back driver's side one was flat. charlie's dimples poke into his cheeks in his innocent grin. "why didn't you say that?"

"why didn't you say that?" charlie shoots back, bending down to drop the toolbox into the grass. "i can't see your tires over a phone, baby."

your eyes roll again, and charlie laughs. "i'll get it all taken care of, honey." he circles around to your trunk, pushing it open. "aren't you so glad now that i made you get that spare tire 'stead of ice cream a few weeks ago?"

"no." your voice is grumbly, punctuated by the pout of your mouth. "it was at least eighty bucks more than a vanilla cone with sprinkles, no cherry."

charlie gives you a look, but his eyes glimmer all the same. "i should make you change this, since you wanna have an attitude about my graciousness."

he lugs the tire out of your trunk, rolling it over to rest against the backdoor. "no, you know what?" he continues, strong arms crossing over his broad chest. "i'll teach you. come n' dirty up that dress, baby."

as much as you want to protest, it was thoughtful of him, to not coddle you like your father spent the entirety of your life doing. having eleven siblings couldn't have been easy, but it'd turned charlie into an expert on how to deal with the likes of you.

so you watch him change out your tires, explaining each step along the way, making you dirty up your hands ( and your dress ) to show him that you were absorbing his instructions.

and when charlie circles around your car to turn it on, check if the system was reading the tire pressure right or whatever it was that he'd said, you can hear it from your perch against the door. the ding of the low fuel indicator.

charlie breaks into a cackle. "go ahead and tell me again how full of gas your car is?"

"shut up," you grumble, tossing a wad of ripped out grass at him.

"more like my baby's full of shit, i think."

you lunge forward to push at his shoulder with a laugh, and charlie takes the time to grab your wrist and tug you into his lap. his foot hooks underneath the car door to shut it behind you, his other hand reaching backwards to flip the hazards on. it was the right thing to do, after all, even though the car was fine now.

they didn't need someone rolling up next to them with charlie's hands up the skirt of your dress.

────────────────────────────────────────────

this one's to u @starzify who dared me to make more. and to u, u, u, and u, my fellow charlie baker lovebots 🙂‍↕ @deansbeer, @titsout4jackles, & @ultravi0lence14

[ladybirdswritings]

Pretty Thing - Cooper Howard (Ghoul) x Reader

Summary: You’re a shiny, pretty prize worth more caps than can be counted on ten hands altogether. There’s something special about you, and the Ghoul is determined to figure out just what it is.

Notes: I’ve been wanting to write for this cowboy for days now and I’ve finally come around to it. Cowboys are my specialty lately <3. Lmk if u love this and I’ll write more (feel free to leave me lots of comments and interactions, I love those!!)

A03 | masterlist | next chap

pretty thing…

“Well lookie here, seems you vaulties ain’t as perfect as you promise to be, huh?”

A furrow of chocolate brows, offense and confusion from sweet Lucy MacLean. This vault promised development in weaponry that the new world had never seen before. It was a thing of storybooks, the kind of thing her dad told her right before her head hit the pillow.

Now, here she was; and it wasn’t a caged weapon she was staring at… no, but rather a caged person.

“This violates all of our policies…” she muttered softly, worry stitched in her soft features as she looked on at the mangled cowboy beside her.

“Tsk tsk, sweetheart. You oughta be more careful with trustin’ these shit-eating freaks. Ain’t you learned your lesson first time round?”

Lucy sighed, falling to her knees and grazing a warm hand against the metal. She looked on at you with pity. Weak, hazy you.

How did you end up in this predicament? You didn’t know. You didn’t remember.

It was as if the entirety of everything you’d ever known was only stitched within your brain in jagged, disorderly flashes. This had to be one too. A flash.

A vault dweller and a ghoul, side by side.

It was most certainly a flash.

“What do we do, coop?” The brunette wondered, doe eyes gazing up at the mangled creature. He only smirked.

“We split. You find your precious tin-man you can’t stop yappin’ bout… and I’ll snatch up this dyin’ cargo. Comprende?”

Lucy had come to trust him, and maybe it was a stupid thing to do. Reality was, though, he’d kept her alive this far. Maybe she owed it to him to follow orders. With a huff, she parted— and then?

It was just you and the ghoul.

Heavy footsteps circled your metal cage, like shark to labored minnow. You were far too exhausted to pick up those pretty eyes of yours from the ground they gazed at.

Chains wrapped round your wrists and ankles, cold metal burned against your spine and cheek. There were two ghouls in your peripheral vision, and each one was the same amount of horrifying.

The footsteps halted, and suddenly the mangled, noseless blur was clear as day before you. Kneeled to your level, observant— cold.

“Well well— look at you, huh? Pretty thing. Now I understand takin’ precautions but damn, sweetie. That’s a lotta chains, hm? What’s so scary bout’ you?” He whispered the last part, thread laced finger lifting to slowly push a loose locket of hair from your dampened face through the cage.

You blinked, forcing your gaze upward so to try and meet his eyes. It was exhausting.

He observed you like you were a foreign object, a diamond in the radiated rough.

“I’d wager to say that you’re just the weapon we was lookin’ for, ain’t you?”

God, he didn’t know just how right he was.

If there was one certain thing you could remember clear as day, laced through the flashes, it was your powers. Each and every one of them, laying dormant now.

You were far too poked and prodded, too drained to even think of lifting a finger.

“Been doin’ this for centuries, pretty thing. Centuries and I ain’t ever seen this kinda experimentation on a little fawn. Hm. Guess you was just unlucky.” His breath was warm as it hit your face. Musing and eyeing your exhausted, slumped figure. Observant, taking his time. Your keepers would be coming soon— he didn’t seem worried.

“Tell you what. You look like you gon’ make me lots of money. So you’re comin’ with me. Don’t you worry, I prefer ropes stead’ of chains, sweetie. You’ll be nice n’ comfortable.”

The more he spoke, the farther away he sounded. You were aware he was a ghoul, that much was certain. Yet even so, no part of his voice, no part of his fading threats were even a little bit startling. No.

His voice was a soft yet strong southern drawl and god— it was far more comforting than the chains and cement floor you’d always known. Perhaps that’s why you let the exhaustion overtake you. Perhaps that’s why you closed your eyes.

Did it matter why? No. All that mattered was that you did.

The rest was a blur. The last thing you remember? Frayed ropes being wrapped round you tight as you were freed from your chains. Mangled, coat covered arms lifting you from the cement and golden teeth pressed against your aching ear to whisper:

“C’mon now, pretty thing…”

Then?

Slumber…

¿to be continued?

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

Soothing Lullaby

|| Mel Medarda x fem!reader

|| Warnings; slight season two spoilers about Mel, injured reader, blood mentions, Mel takes care of reader, brief mentions of death but nobody dies, you decide why reader was in Zaun, short drabble

|| Summary; when reader returns from a trip down to Zaun with an injury, Mel helps her out.

Requests closed!

Started; December 15th

Finished; December 15th

HurtCember2024; Day 11, Caretaking

Author Note; firstly, sorry about how long all my fics have been taking me. I haven't had a writing mindset and I wanted the fics to be good so I haven't been writing. Secondly, thank you for 900 followers!! Love all of you 🫶 I wonder if we can hit 1,000 before the new year?

Also; don't know if Mel's magic can heal, but for the sake of this fic yes she can lmao

~~~

It was late afternoon when you'd stumbled into Mel's room after having gone down to Zaun. Looking for something. Mel, of course, hadn't been aware of your little adventure. So, when she saw you her eyes widened with worry.

"Y/N? What happened to you?" Mel forgot all about the clothes she was previously looking through. There was a party tonight; Mel was looking for an outfit to wear. But now, she was looking at you. More specifically the wound that traveled up your leg. It cut through the fabric of your pants. Stretching from the start of your heel, just above the edge of your shoe line, and twisted up to behind your knee cap. Blood dripping down from the deeper parts of the cut.

"Um... ran into a Zaunite," you explained. Tone a bit sheepish. Mel's eyes narrowed in confusion. A Zaunite? Why were you in Zaun? Or had the Zaunite come to the surface? Her mind buzzed with a million questions. Questions that she would ask once she's helped you.

Mel knelt down, taking your leg into her hands. With her magic, caretaking was a pretty easy thing for her to do. You winced as your leg was moved and Mel looked into your eyes. Her gaze soft, full of nothing but worry and sympathy for you," shh. You're okay," her voice feels like a soothing lullaby. One that makes your shoulders ease the moment it reaches your ears. You gave her a nod.

Her fingers danced along your injury. A light golden glow seeping through the tips of her fingers and into the wound. Closing it with a golden shimmer that marked the line of where it once was. The pain had left you the moment her fingers touched you. Feeling a sense of ease. You had to admit, Mel's magic was a handy little trick. It's helped you lots before.

"Better?" Mel asked, gently letting go of your leg. Allowing you to rest your foot to the floor again. You have your leg a little shake, testing if there was any lingering pain. A smile crossed your lips when there wasn't any.

"Yep! Thank you, Mel," you thanked her. She stood, hands gently caressing your cheeks while she looked into your eyes. Your own eyes locked with hers, those absolutely stunning eyes... you could stare into them all day without getting bored. They were just memorizing.

"You truly need to be more careful. What ever will I do with you, hm?" Mel met your smile with her own. She loved you, but you were always getting yourself into trouble that she had to drag you out of. Honestly you'd probably be dead if not for her. She didn't mind, though. You and your shenanigans were just free entertainment for her.

"Maybe kiss me?" You suggested shamelessly, earning yourself a laugh from your girlfriend.

"Is that all you want? Well, I think we can make that happen," her lips latched to yours. Dancing in soft rhythms. Your arms wrapped around Mel's neck loosely. Bringing her in closer to you.

The kiss lasted as long as it could before Mel's focus was back to your leg, frowning again at the blood that still lingered," let's get you into the shower." You weren't about to argue with that. Perhaps you could convince her to join.

[that-salty-ghost]

As Above, So Below | Chapter 29: Exceptions| Viktor [Arcane] // Male Reader | Rating: M Throughout

Word Count: ~4.9k Summary: Viktor pushes your buttons until he's busy with other activities Tags: swearing, sexual tension, flirting, kissing, mage-y stuff Last Chpt: First Aid

Check my pinned post for more details/previous chapters/etc.

Some silent moments pass as you finish patching Viktor up—thankfully without further mention of the kind of effect he has on your nervous system.

The wind still howls, the snowstorm still rages on, but the two of you couldn’t be bothered inside these walls.

The air settles easily between you as you trail off into lighter conversations—Viktor’s voice dropping low and gentle as he tells you more about the little things that shape his life.

Like how he loves crossword puzzles, the sound of birds singing in the morning, and skipping stones on the water at dusk. That he likes to have something to sip on when he finds time to cook. That he hates public speaking. That he’s trying to stop picking at the callouses on his palms when he fidgets.

You share your own quirks and stories too—telling him about your ever-growing record collection, how Jeff followed you home from the Freljord, how you can’t dance for shit but know your way around the pole at the brothel.

You tell him that you don’t particularly miss your father, but you do miss his war horse. That you also prefer cooking with a drink in hand, and that you’ve been meaning to finish a puzzle that Viktor said he spotted at R&R’s.

When he politely asks if he can help you with it, you’re not sure how anyone could ever tell this man no when his eyes are beaming with that much excitement.

Which is also why you don’t have the heart to tell him that it’s not finished because deep down, you hated that puzzle down to its microscopic, way-too-identical, 3,000-piece guts.

It hurt your back to bend over it for so long, it was likely missing a minimum of a dozen pieces at this point, hell—even the image of some obscure landscape didn’t even pique your interest.

But Viktor does.

And who were you to rob him of the little things that he found joy in. To rob yourself of more time that you could spend with him.

Of course you agree.

You’re about to cap the salve and pack it up when Viktor’s question shifts the conversation back to everything that’s just transpired.

“Does ehh…anyone else know about you? About what you can do?” His question comes quietly and you’re not sure you’ll ever get use to how tender his voice sounds when he’s curious about something sensitive.

“Remy. And my fence…friend?...” You tinker with that title mentally before shrugging the semantics away. “…but I uh…I don’t think he remembers.” You scoff under your breath at that probability.

“What?” His brow quirks and you realize Viktor doesn’t know anything about Kass. “I’m failing to see how this is a forgettable experience.”

You’re amused that he’s more curious about the man’s memory rather than his questionable occupation, but try to answer all the same. “Kass uh…frequently dips into the pool of mind-altering substances.”

“Ah,” The machinist offers a small smile and a “Yes, I suppose that would do it.” to let that fact lie for now.

You offer a weak grin in return and try to give him a little more context. “He’s the one that said to ditch my backpack for the shoulder suspenders.”

“The one who said you would look like a workaholic?”

“That’s him.”

“Hm.”

He pauses with that information and you try to decipher where his mind went. Rather than pry, you just give him a little more. “He can be a lot. Definitely has some demons hot on his heels, but I think you would like him.”

“If he suggested that you wear those suspenders, I already do.”

Before you light up the room for the third godsdamned time you pull your hand from Viktor’s and let the glow slowly subside from your fingertips. You quickly eye the leather accessory in the corner of the room, still drying out near the fire when Viktor’s voice pulls your attention back to him.

“So, I’m only the third person who knows…that you’re a mage, I mean.”

His reversion back to the original topic at hand is not unwelcome. You nod, the realization finally hitting you that you’ve allowed this crush of three days in on one of the most vulnerable parts about you. A choice your father would’ve punished you for. Something he would’ve said would be the death of you if you didn’t put Viktor down first.

But you sit calmly, confident in your decision being the right one.

“I just…for both of our safety, have to ask you not to tell anyone else…I know that’s not fair—”

“Of course that’s fair.” He interrupts your incoming trail of apologies and you feel that his fingers shifted from his leg to the side of your knee. “And you have my word.” His swift understanding only furthers your conviction and your father’s voice immediately fades from your mind. “Though, I’m curious—with so few people that know—what made you trust me?”

“It was…kind of a gut feeling…?”

“Sharing something that personal is driven by your microbiome?”

“It’s hard to describe.”

“Try me?”

He clearly wants more, still not sure if you’re being completely honest. You try to explain it better.

“I used to think it was my mother looking out for me. I’m not so sure about that. Maybe it's just intuition, but…sometimes I get this…pull. I don’t have a better word but it’s strong. And I know I can trust it…so I know I can trust you too…”

Viktor’s expression softens and he seems to understand despite your poorly worded explanation. You reach for a washrag to dab up any excess salve and it hits why you showed the other man what you could do in the first place.

“This happened when you tripped up that pickpocket didn’t it?” You reach for his arm to assess his wrist one more time, feeling good about your work after checking for any residual inflammation.

Feeling good about having an almost-normal excuse to hold his hand again as well.

Viktor inhales through his mouth which quickly turns into a lopsided grin. He pauses, pressing his lips back together again without saying a word and flicks his gaze from your hands back up.

Feeling his eyes on yours, you stop what you’re doing to glance up at him. In an instant you realize his boyish ‘I’ve been caught’ expression has probably kept him out of trouble in many instances. Endearing was an understatement you think to yourself as your voice wavers.

“You’ve been sore all night?” The space in between your brows pinch together as that thought sinks in.

“That wrist is usually sore by the end of every night.” Viktor shrugs offhandedly like it was nothing for him until you catch him peering at his cane in the corner of your eye. You wondered quietly if that was the cause of said everyday soreness.

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“I didn’t want to ruin the night.”

“Ruin the night? You didn’t capsize a boat.”

“That didn’t ruin the night.”

“This certainly wouldn’t have either.”

A quiet “Hm.” is all he mumbles as he notices you’ve finished up. There’s a small selfish part of you that wants to pretend like you’re still working so you can keep his hand in yours awhile longer, but you loosen your grip as a signal that it was fine to move.

“How’s that feel? Any better?”

Viktor lifts his hand to stretch out his fingers, eyes widening after he experimentally rolls out his wrist. The disbelief that surfaces in his expression evident as he turns his hand with ease. “It—yes much more than usual…” He eyes the salve then your hand before his gaze finds yours again. “How…is that possi—?” The wily expression that plagues you gives Viktor pause, apprehensively tilting his head, jaw still slack with a brow arched. “…What…?”

“Just thinking about what it would’ve been like if you would’ve told me sooner.” It’s the first time you’ve thrown a little shade at Viktor. You know the man is quick, but you weren’t fully prepared for how he fully throws it right back.

With a toothy grin, he scoffs. Pressing his tongue to cheek and begrudgingly nodding at your comment with an “Ah…” Viktor’s demeanor shifts into something more playful, catching you completely off guard when he abruptly stands without warning. You reflexively scoot back, nearly falling off of the footrest as you do. He only gives you a teasing shrug—you can practically hear the sarcastic “whoops” he wants to say before he makes his way towards the door.

Your brows furrow as you get up to shadow him, a puzzled grin forming more fully with each step. “What are…” A chuckle escapes you as you try to figure out what he’s up to. “Where are you going now?”

“Oh.” He turns his head like he isn’t aware that he has you perfectly confused, motioning to the door with brows raised in feigned innocence. “Just thinking about taking mistress Linda up on that sleepover she so graciously offered.”

“Mistress Lin—is that actually her name?” Amusement seeps into your tone at his empty threat of joining the woman who recently propositioned him.

“Sure.”

“Suuure?” You watch Viktor bite back a laugh as you call him out. “You don’t know her name, but you’re ready to jump into bed with her?” You muse as you take a step closer to him. “You don’t seem the type.”

“I’ve been known to make exceptions.” He reaches for the doorknob, giving you a lighthearted challenge before shrugging nonchalantly. “And I’ve done worse.” The way he delivers the line, you have to believe him. And the pause it gives you is palpable.

You stand speechless for a moment while he cocks a brow at you to test his honesty. But you do no such thing. You’re not sure how far he’s gone with anyone, but you begin to realize that he may have more experience than you might’ve initially anticipated.

And based on the sly smile beginning to weave into lips that you imagine would look much better in between your teeth…you figure your theory is likely correct.

As he slowly starts to tease apart your self-control, you had to admit, Viktor has you wrapped around his little finger when he’s like this.

Crafty and collected and completely merciless with keeping you on your toes.

Toying with you and testing the waters to see if you were willing to go toe-to-toe with him.

And while your elusive confidence usually made it difficult to find the right words when he was around, wit was a game that brought it back to the forefront.

So, you bite.

“You could also do better.”

Secretly, you’re just as taken aback as Viktor looks as soon as the words leave your mouth. But still, you double-down and take a step towards the man whose hand is now slowly slipping off of the door’s handle. He collects himself with a small nod—a touché before starting to level with you.

“So, your intentions were to bed me in a cheap room after all?”

“Bed you?” You repeat back, his choice of words throwing you for a loop before you pick at the details of his accusation. “Viktor, this is far from cheap.”

“You’re not denying it?”

“Denying what?”

His small turn on his heels draws you a little closer, clearly not backing down from this subtle dance as he quips back.

“If you want to play coy you should’ve stayed in the river.”

“Coy…was that a fish pun?”

“You do seem to love those.”

His crooked grin adequately accents his unfortunately true accusation…you do appreciate the occasional tasteful pun.

“Clearly not as much as you seem to love Linda.”

It wasn’t your best counterpoint. You were struggling with your rebuttal after taking another step and catching the familiar scent of smoke from the stove and cardamom from Viktor. The smallest hint of herbal soap from his damp hair and the crisp outside air from the cracked window. Each aroma clashing beautifully against the other—stunning your senses into understanding the proximity closing in.

“We’re just going to talk, her and I.”

Ohhhh, you could kick yourself for that stupid fucking slip up right about now.

You understand exactly what he’s doing with his reclamation of your words. He wants to hear you say it. Wants to hear what you want. Wants to watch you grapple for control of this back-and-forth, of your flawed logic.

Wants to see you squirm when he fully turns to face you, his chest almost bumping against yours as he straightens his back.

You give in, allowing him to entertain the meaning as much as he’d like.

“I think your mouth might be too busy for that.”

Your new favorite color returns in earnest, staining his cheeks more quickly than he can hide it.

Look at that, you’re back in control.

His smug grin quickly dissolves into hushed breaths, lips parted when you subtly steal a glance at them only to find that he’s trying to steal a glance at yours as well.

Your heart betrays its sure rhythm…until the other man decides to join you in playing coy, instantly dragging you back into another rapid-fire exchange.

“Whatever do you mean, [Y/n]?”

“I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

“Quite the smart ass.”

“Quite the smart tongue.”

“In more ways than you know.”

“Lucky Linda.”

“Unlucky you.”

“Unlucky…me?”

Your voice breaks quietly before you drop your gaze—taking in the meaning behind bold words and wondering how much weight was behind them until he solidifies it.

“Mmhm.”

Slowly succumbing to the familiar feeling of defeat as Viktor gets the upper hand of your repartee. Your eyes dart aimlessly over him as you try to pull your thoughts together in a desperate attempt to gain it back.

He catches your pause and quirks a brow, looking quite pleased to have you reeling under his words. With a sigh of exaggerated disappointment complete with a quick click of his tongue, he adds fuel to your fire just as easily as the hearth he’s fed.

“And here I thought you had a knack for getting what you wanted.”

Gods you wanted that. Wanted to push him right up against that fucking door. Wanted to close the gap between you, wipe that sly smirk off his face, and make better use of his quick tongue. Wanted to prove that his assumption about you was correct—that you were a person capable of going for what you wanted…or even that you could be for that matter.

For him at least…you wanted to be.

But there you stood. Wrestling with doubt and nerves and ego as you showed the icicles forming on the windowsill what it really means to be frozen in place.

Then it hits you. That small, hushed piece of information that slipped from the other man’s lips not so long ago.

You decide to take one more stab, relying on Viktor’s integrity when he dismissed mistress whoever-the-fuck within your earshot.

“And here I thought you were exactly where you wanted to be tonight.”

Loosening fingers fall the rest of the way from the handle only to be pressed flat against the door behind him. His knuckles carve white into the back of the hand that grips his cane a little bit tighter now. It’s small, subtle—but proof that you’ve rattled his relatively unflappable demeanor.

Something in him changes and at first you struggle to decipher it. His muscles look tense, particularly the ones in his shoulders as he makes an effort to hold his head high even with his back literally and metaphorically against the wall. You can’t tell if he’s surprised that you heard that part of their conversation, or if the meaning behind that sentence actually scared him.

When he pushes his weight off the door it takes every ounce of your being to stay collected. To maintain eye contact with a gaze that was becoming all too easy to drown in. To shake the shiver rolling down your spine when he answers you.

“I am…”

He speaks with confidence but the way honeyed eyes are frantically searching yours says otherwise. Uncertainty becomes apparent as he watches you watching him, his head dipping slowly downward with growing apprehension as he finishes his sentence softer than before.

“…well…almost.”

His breathing gets shaky, stuttering in his chest as it rises and falls. Uncertainty is one thing, but you’re realizing it’s more than that.

“Almost?”

He’s nervous.

“Almost.”

Just like you.

…

But unlike you,

“Where…would you rather be…?”

Nerves don’t get in the way of what he wants.

…

…

…

“…here.”

Viktor’s voice softens and before you can speculate—before he has a chance to change his mind—he leans forward to close the gap separating you.

His lips press against yours with a tenderness that stuns you into place. He’s unhurried. Resolute. Like kissing you was the most natural thing in the world for him.

Like he was in fact, exactly where he wanted to be for the night.

Regardless of his finesse, your body goes rigid as you reflexively grab ahold of his forearm for support.

…Which he doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest.

He returns your stiff grip with a tentative touch—his fingers extending lightly along the underside of your arm—soothing you despite the tight hold you have on him.

It’s such a small, soft motion…but it settles you. Immediately for that matter. That’s when it hits you that Viktor was actually right about what he said earlier.

Time really had no place when he was with you.

In the span of a sharp breath, you don’t know at which point your eyes fluttered shut. Or when you stopped thinking. Let alone when you stopped breathing. When your grip loosened, when your jaw unclenched. When your worries lifted into nothingness.

When the noise settled and everything finally felt…still.

Something you haven’t felt in years…

And just in time for Viktor to pull away.

As you feel him shift his weight back you all but catch yourself from greedily leaning forward. Leaving you looking practically starved, and clearly craving more than a mere sample…as delicious as it was.

Not yet ready to relinquish the small peck, your eyes hold onto what your lips couldn’t.

Doused with the same state, Viktor’s own lips remain parted, likely still lingering with the sensation of having yours pressed against them. A sensation it seemed he also wasn’t quite ready to surrender by the looks of it.

When your eyes meet, heavy and cautious and equally full of need for the other, Viktor tilts his head just slightly. His dark brows furrow, knitted with contemplation or curiosity—maybe both. But you recognize the purpose behind that look.

He’s trying to read you.

And rivaling the very book you pulled from the shelf, you let him.

He easily pages through your wanting expression, mulls over your body language until you catch him glance back at your mouth with a gaze that transitions from reserved to ravenous in a blink before meeting your eyes again.

Neither of you say a word. Neither of you have to.

He just quirks a brow at you.

Quicker than usual.

More intentional.

Not at all the expression you’ve seen when something has piqued his curiosity. Or when he’s wanting more insight that was initially provided.

No, this was something else.

This was a wordless way to say, ‘your move’. An affirmation that there could be more if you wanted it. Wanted him.

This wasn’t a request for more information.

It was a request for more…of you.

…

Maybe it’s just your imagination, but in the corner of your eye, you could’ve sworn you saw one of the icicles break away from the sill.

…

Turns out you’re tired of being frozen too.

Finally, you move—leaning forward and tipping your head to catch Viktor’s lips more fully than before. You can hear him inhale sharply at the sudden contact, can picture his brows pinching together in concentration…

…can feel his back hit the wall with a resounding ‘thud' as your actions come a bit more rushed than you intended. A soft “mmph” escapes from his lips to yours at the impact, his hand jerking from your forearm to your delt for balance, but he doesn’t break the kiss.

Still, you consider pulling back to make sure he’s alright. To apologize for quite literally throwing yourself at the other man. You place your hands against the surface on either side of his hips, bracing to push yourself away.

But his arm wraps around your shoulders instead—pulling you closer and reassuring you that he’s okay. That this is okay.

…more than okay.

It doesn’t seem like his first kiss, and it definitely isn’t yours, but judging by how much you both have clearly been wanting this, it might as well be.

Your hands are clumsy when you blindly reach for his waist—scraping your knuckles on the wooden door as you add to the symphony of thuds pounding against it.

And Viktor’s moments are no smoother.

Abandoning his support, his palm warms your cheek as slender fingers splay wildly against your ear and neck. You can feel him straining, his digits curling slightly before releasing—like he was holding onto his self-control by a thread. Fighting with himself from being too rough with you.

Too hungry for you.

Too consumed by you to care that his actions are quickly followed by a boisterous clank as his cane hits the floor.

…Which only seems to spur you both on.

Viktor’s lips crash against yours again and again. Each kiss becoming more desperate than the last with each breath sounding harsher in between. Your need for each other easily outweighing the desire to come up for air as the sound of huffs fill the room.

A small experimental press into your shoulder has you shift your stance, staggering your legs in between Viktor’s to accommodate the slight imbalance. You can feel his weight begin to fully settle onto you and you happily hold him against the door while his other hand drifts from your cheek.

Inch by agonizing inch his hand trails downwards—reading the lines that have shaped your history and sculpted your features like brail under his fingertips. His touch is cautious…curious—moving carefully over your chest, following each curve that dips around tense muscles and scars that never healed quite right.

You sigh into him while he explores you, pausing his pursuit on the raised line left from a bullet grazing you the day your parents died. He tables the questions churning in his mind to tilt his head and kiss you deeper.

Soothe your old wounds with magic of his own.

He presses his lips to yours more gently than the last time, slowing the adrenaline-fueled pace before you feel the featherlight touch of his tongue brushing along your lower lip. Your breath hitches as you savor how soft he is with you. How his movements are so delicate despite the tangible desire brimming just beneath their surface.

It’s quite the dichotomy. Strong enough to knock the air out of you.

In the form of a moan, sure. Which Viktor gladly muffles when he feels you part your lips for him. His tongue eagerly begins to dance with yours, moving slowly at first while he gets use to you before easily falling into a back and forth of give and take.

The thin fabric of his shirt leaves little to the imagination as your own hands begin to wander, running up his back before languidly trailing down again. He arches into your touch—pulls you closer while you start to memorize the curvature of his spine, the edges of his shoulder blades, the indents of his hips.

It’s effortless—getting lost in Viktor. His skin radiates a warmth that draws you in like a moth to a flame. You can’t help but consider the likelihood of his rising temperature being a byproduct of the arcane that recently resonated inside of him.

And that gives you an unexpected rush that you can’t explain.

Something along the lines of he can understand you on a base level that no one else has been able to even come close to reaching. Knows what it’s like to have something entirely unruly course through his veins without a compass or care. Knows the static and heat and tension and release of it all.

A micro-dosed version of it, sure.

A micro dose is more than enough in a world sober of magic. And more than enough to fully lose your inhibitions with him.

Deft fingers drag slow as molasses along your stomach, rippling over the contours that are already wound tightly in knots. You can feel him hum approvingly, clearly enjoying how your muscles tense under his teasing.

But not as much as you enjoy the sound he makes when you catch his lip between your teeth.

It’s a hushed groan caught in the crosshairs of surprise and pleasure. Barely above a murmur, but audible evidence that he’s come a little more undone. You give a light tug and match the subdued sigh that you pull from his lips, warmth blooming in your chest while his fingers dig into your shoulder and abdomen.

When you let go you can feel his smile while he chases evasive breaths, lips catching on yours lightly with each word that passes from them.

“And you…” He chuckles softly before finishing. “…said you don’t bite.” He follows his statement by taking the lead—pushing himself off the door, snaking an arm around your waist, and taking shallow steps to walk you backwards.

“I made…” You grin at his callback, trying to find your breath as well in between kisses and footsteps. “…an exception.”

“Do you make those often?” His voice sounds shot, graveled with passion that grows with each step. “Exceptions…”

“From time to time.” Your ears are burning and you’ve been so caught up in his aftershocks that you barely notice the pressure that’s caused your skimpy ass shorts to get tighter. You reinforce your own voice, playing into his question that you know is alluding to the common rules of a first date. “We’ve already made quite a few…”

“What like…assault?”

His clever response causes you to grin into a small kiss, your tongue teasing his before you correct him. “Well, battery. Technically.”

“That’s…not better.”

After another kiss, another step you manage to answer back with a crime of his own from the evening. “And how about theft?”

A playful nibble on your lip hitches your breath before he hums another rule broken from the list. “Mm. Vandalism.”

Gradually you get use to letting him steer you blind, your movements shifting from an uneven shuffle to steady-ish steps. You figure he trusted you mending him with raw magic—you can trust him not to let you fall on these expensive floors.

Not that you would care at this point anyway.

“Can’t forget about gambling.”

“Of course not.”

The backs of your knees hit the bedframe and you both stop in your tracks.

His focus travels.

Yours follows.

A glance behind you puts the luxe mattress layered with more blankets and pillows than you have in your entire loft into plain view. The implications of what comes after sitting heavy in the air as Viktor’s hands fall to your hips.

Your half-lidded vision is blurred but mesmerized by the way his whiskey eyes drink you in. His gaze moves down your chest and over your stomach until it drops low enough to make your cheeks flush.

“We could…just retire for the night, [Y/n].” His tone gives you all of the comfort in the world that it was okay to do so as he lifts a hand to cradle your cheek. “Falling asleep beside you—” He pauses, a sincere smile pulling at his lips while he imagines what that looks like. “That would be enough for me.”

Kind, warm eyes reflect the honesty behind sweet words. You match his smile and get lost in his touch, leaning into his palm before placing your hand on his. Thin fabric still leaving little to the imagination, you only have to glimpse down for a second to steel your thoughts into a word.

“Unless…?”

“Unless…” Warm ignites into to a smolder, sweet swiftly becomes sultry, and his touch fades from your cheek to fidget with the hem of your shirt.

“You’d like to make one more exception with me…”

----------

A/N: Oh it's HEATIN' UP--thanks to everyone for being patient with this chapter, it took a minute to fully form and write up and I hope it gives some warm fuzzies during these TRYING times :) Also wanted to say hi hello and welcome to any new folks! I am loving every comment, they seriously make my day. I'm so glad y'all are here and hope you enjoy the read! This is definitely a longer fic that started as a comfort read/be a place to visit if you've had a hard day and has turned into an entire story that I'm really excited to continue. I'm not sure how far into season 2 we'll go yet since we still have a few episodes left, but I'll be sure to include some tidbits and little easter eggs regardless of where to story finishes.  Thank you also for the follows, feedback, likes, shares and everything in between. It means the world to me and I'm beyond humbled this lil thing has brought some folks even a little bit of joy.  If you're feeling wild, my ko-fi is linked to my pinned post and in my lil sidebar (no pressure ever, I do this for free and because I love it)...But if there's a dollar in there I will be telling my homophobic dad his son made a buck writing gay smut at the family dinner next week. 

And if that isn't success I don't know what is. Anyway, thank you again for reading and I hope everyone is doing well out there! Cheers, Ghost

[theemporium]

Could you possibly write something for Nico where he dates shy reader and he is all lovey dovey with her post game win when they celebrate together? Perhaps she wears his jersey? Thank you for considering. ����🏻

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to support Nico, it was more so the fact the games were a lot more intense and intimidating when you were in person.

You watched every game without fail, though usually it was from the comfort of your own couch whilst you were buried in one of his hoodies. And despite what people assumed, he didn’t mind. He knew you supported him. He knew that the second the game was over, you would be on the phone to him to tell him exactly what you thought of the game, always complementing the way he played regardless of whether the Devils won or lost.

And he knew games in person weren’t really your thing. You didn’t like the attention of being sat by the glass and, even though you got along with the other players’ families and friends, it still felt a little intense to be in a suite with them for the whole game. You didn’t like the pressure of having to keep up friendly small talk during the game, but Nico knew you would because you would have felt bad otherwise. 

So, in all honesty, he didn’t mind that you didn’t go to his games. 

But there was something that made his heart want to burst out of his chest on the games you did attend in person. 

“Fuck you, Panthers!” 

Nico huffed out a laugh, shaking his head at Jack’s antics. The boy was already one too many drinks deep into their post-game celebration after—by some miraculous turn of events—thrashing the Panthers on Jersey soil with a buzzing 6-1. 

“You’re gonna get us kicked out,” Nico teased, but the boy didn’t care as he grinned widely at his captain. 

“Give it a break, Cap, go back to making heart eyes at your girl!” Jack snickered, wiggling his eyebrows at the two of you. He didn’t think Nico had let go of you since he had stepped out of the locker room. “We fucking broke the streak! We are allowed to celebrate!”

“Let him have his fun,” you said, your arms tightening to gain your boyfriend’s attention as he tore his eyes away from Jack to look down at you. His gaze softened in an instant and it made your stomach erupt with butterflies. “You all deserve to celebrate the win after the rough streak.” 

“Hm, maybe we won because you were here,” Nico teased, though there was a sincerity in his words that made you think he truly believed his own words. “Wanna come to Montreal with us?”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Today was all you, I had nothing to do with it.”

“I don’t know about that,” Nico said with a massive smile on his lips as his fingers playfully tugged on the hem of the jersey you were wearing. “We lost the last five games until my girl walked in with her lucky jersey on. I think that’s all the proof we need.”

Your cheeks burned as you glanced down at the lucky jersey in question. It was an old jersey of his, maybe one from a year or two ago. He had given it to you near the start of your relationship, when he was leaving for his first roadie since you started seeing each other. You joked about buying some Devils merch to support him whilst you watched the games and he had handed you the jersey the night before he left. You wore it for every game you watched—or at least, you tried to. 

This had been the first game in a while you had worn it since you lost it in the process of moving apartments with Nico, into an apartment big enough for the two of you.

“You hockey players and your superstitions,” you murmured, tucking your chin against your chest to hide how flushed ‘my girl’ made you.

But Nico was one step ahead of you as his hands moved to cup your cheeks, lifting your head until he could look down at your flustered face with a soft smile. “I heard kissing the captain after a win gives the team good luck for their next.”

You laughed and his expression brightened. “Yeah?”

“Mhm, an old hockey legend,” Nico nodded. 

“Well, you gotta kiss him now!” Jack exclaimed from the other side of the table. “We need the luck!”

You laughed harder as you wrapped your arms around his waist once again and grinned up at him. “I think I can get behind that superstition.”

And Nico barely gave you a chance to finish your sentence before he leaned down to kiss you, his smile pressed against yours.

.

[aroace-madness]

So i had a convo on divine discord (mostly with @toobytoobs) and I decided to make it into a post

Here are some pictures for context on how it because ya'll are gonna need it

Then there is some more stuff about the Leauge worrying about Billy and then there is a mention of Freddy storming into the Watchtower and berating the league for breaking Billys arm

And that's how we got here

Freddy: how DARE you, brake my baby brothers arm

Clark: wait, you're Captains older brother? Does that mean that the Wizard created you before him?

Freddy "ready to stir shit up" Freeman: huh? Oh yeah but I was sort of a failed experiment because of my bad leg

Bruce: experiment?

Freddy: yeah, now tell me how did you find out about the wizard

Diana: we got Captian drunk and he just started babbling about everything

Freddy: excuse you got him drunk? Sigh ok i'm kinda angry since he's my responsibility, it doesn't matter that i'm only a few months older than him

Barry: you're older only by a few months?

Freddy: yeah I am, is it really that surprising? I watched that giant grow up from the beggining and let me tell you he was hopeless couldn't even walk properly, even I walked better than him and my leg is bummed

Bruce: hm, really?

Freddy: yup, the first year was rather rough since I had to teach him everything because that stupid wizard decided to die before he could do anything

The JL: mild concern

Freddy: he also had the audacity to die right in front of Billy

J'onn: Billy?

Freddy: oh yeah, we didn't really have names for a long time at first, when we met some humans for the first time we decided to give ourselves a name, he chose William

The leauge is very concerned about the no name thing, what kind of parent doesn't name their children

Freddy mentions their sister and how she got kidnapped which made the leauge belive that the wizard did not care about her and just wanted a champion, hence why he made Freddy but he came out a "dud", and that's why Cap exists

Freddy completely forgot about what he did and is completely oblivious to what he caused

At some point Cap mentions the wizard in a present tense and confuses the JL

He explains that his ghost just hangs around the rock of eternity but is not helpful at all which makes the league want to punch the wizard even more

Captian says that he's just happy that he talks to him because he just ignores Freddys and Marys existance, that makes the leauge belive that he just ignored Freddys existance during the first few months of his life

At some point they start to belive that Mary wasn't ever kidnapped, just discarded to the side because the wizard believed she was defective

When the Leauge finally meets Mary they ask her about the Wizard, she has no idea who they're talking about

It leads them to believe that the wizard got rid of her before she even developed conciousenes

After they explain to her who they are talking about she finally gets it, she tells them how she doesn't really know him but Freddy seems to not like him

The leauge is seriously concerned for their friend and his siblings

Once they ask Captian if the wizard is his father (just to confirm some things) he answers no, that just because that man gave him his powers and brought meaning to his life doesn't mean that that's his father. They ask Freddy the same thing, he just looks at them with disgust, they ask Mary too, she looks at them like they're stupid

They really want to punch that wizard now because how much of a terrible father must you be that not a single one of your kids considers you their parent

This post doesn't do justice to the entire convo so to anyone who's on the divine discord I advise going to the writting channel and scrolling back a bit, there is a message connected to one of the first messages of this whole thing (and trust me there is a lot)