#mail order kitten girl

[the-iceni-bitch]

She’s Many Places

Relationship: amazon!lawyer Natasha Romanov x petite!curvy fem reader (Big Red and Peach, NLLYL AU)

Word Count: ~1.4k

Summary: You love when Nat comes home.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (titty worship, petting, teasing, f/f sex, mentions of f receiving oral sex), good natured teasing about sugar mommy/baby relationship even though that’s not what they have, so much fluff, age gap relationship, an offended kitten, SMUT! 18+ ONLY!

A/N: Some sapphic fluff for pride (yes I know it’s not still Pride, but that’s a technicality) and oh my god I love these two. They’re so sweet together and playful and they give me the heart eyes 😍

I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on my fics, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications!

Natasha hummed to herself as she shook the rain off her umbrella, grabbing the mail out of the box and taking one last look at the gray sky before walking into the brownstone.

“Baby?” She took off her coat and kicked off her pumps, unpinning her hair as she moved down the hall while Gus wound between her legs. “Peach, are you here?”

“I’m in the living room!” You beamed at her over the top of your book. “Is it still raining?”

“Yeah, it’s gloomy.” She scooped up the kitten and sank next to you on the couch, kissing your cheek before resting her head on your lap. “And work was long. How do you feel about ordering in?”

“I feel fantastic about it.” You ran your fingers through her hair while she pulled out her phone to order something. “I want pasta.”

“Pasta?” She kissed your fingers after you poked her nose affectionately. “We can do pasta. With garlic bread. Split a tiramisu?”

“Mmhm.”

These soft domestic moments were everything with Nat. It was like every moment the two of you spent together just being close made you fall in love with each other even more. Saturdays at the farmers market always left you smiling when she would buy you flowers and you would share fresh blueberry scones. Sunday mornings in bed together where you made her pancakes and the two of you ate in bed and did the crossword while the kitten napped in a sunbeam would set her heart fluttering. And every time it got rainy and gloomy outside when the two of you would just cuddle were perfect.

“Hey peach?” Nat beamed up at you when you peeked down at her, turning and wrapping her arms around you so she could nuzzle into your stomach. “I love you, baby girl.”

“I love you too, Nat.” You giggled when she kissed your tummy, trying not to squirm when she pinched your side and tickled you a little. “Hey!”

“Hey yourself, wait a minute.” She scoffed when she pulled the blanket aside and saw what you were wearing, sitting up and pulling you into her lap while you squealed. “This is my sweatshirt!”

“It’s so comfy!” You laughed when she growled playfully and bit your neck, wiggling in her arms and gasping when she gave you a hickey. “Natasha!”

“What? It’s not like you have to go to the office.” She kissed the mark before pulling the collar of her sweatshirt aside to make another on your collarbone. “Bucky and his beefcake say hi, by the way.”

“My boys! I do miss them.” You tried to stay focused when she started kneading your ass but it wasn’t working. “I am enjoying my life as a sugar baby though.”

“Of course you are.” Nat purred when she edged her fingers under the edge of her sweatshirt and found you were only wearing panties. “Don’t even have to wear your own clothes, get to cuddle the kitten all day, and your pretty little pussy gets all the attention it deserves.”

“Wait, let me mark my page!” You screamed and laughed when she flung you down on the couch and climbed on top of you, your face heating up while the kitten ran off after screaming at the two of you for disturbing him. “Sorry Gus!”

“Gus will be fine.” Natasha grinned as she straddled your hips, her pencil skirt rising up her thighs until you could see the tops of her stockings while she tapped her finger against her plump bottom lip. God, she was hot, you still couldn’t believe she was in love with you sometimes. “Now, the food isn’t going to be here for twenty minutes, should I suck on your tits the whole time or just until your little pussy is all hot and wet then eat you out until you scream for me?”

“Well, I’m already wet.” You bit your lip and arched your back so the sweatshirt started to ride up your tummy, gasping when she reached between the two of you to rub your pussy through your panties. “Feel?”

“Yeah, I feel.” She started petting you while she leaned down to kiss your neck, tutting when you started to take off her sweatshirt. “That stays on. You wear my clothes, you get fucked in my clothes, new rule.”

“Okay.” You whined when she continued rubbing your cunt as she kissed her way down your chest. “You realize that’s not going to discourage me though?”

“It’s not supposed to, hush.” Nat winked at you before pushing her head under the sweatshirt and kissing the undersides of your breasts. “So soft.”

Natasha had never thought of herself as a tits man, but something about yours drove her fucking crazy. Maybe it was the way your pretty nipples would pebble as soon as her breath fanned over them, or when you shivered while she ran her nose along their soft curves. But she was pretty sure it was just because they were yours, and that you were so damn responsive when she paid any attention to them at all. So she started covering your chest with kisses, humming against your skin when you squirmed and whined for her.

Your eyes fluttered closed when she pulled as much of your breast into her mouth as she could and sucked softly, moaning as her tongue swirled around your nipple. She kneaded your other breast with her hand, smiling around your soft flesh when you arched your back to get even closer to her. When she felt you start to vibrate she bared her teeth, biting your nipple gently until you squealed.

“Natasha…” You laughed when she just grunted before kissing her way to your other breast. “One track mind.”

“Yep.” You could practically hear her smirking, but then she sucked on your nipple and pressed her fingers against your swollen clit through your panties and all you could do was whimper.

The rain kept pattering against the window as she worked you over like only she could, adding to the pleasant haze you were in while you gasped and sighed underneath her. She was so warm, so gentle with you. Her fingers kept stroking your pussy while she nibbled on your breast, rubbing your sensitive button until she heard your breath catch. All it took was a little pinch and you came with a squeak, your panties getting even more sticky as you gushed your release.

“Such a messy baby.” Nat ran her nose down your soft stomach slowly, her head slipping out from under her sweatshirt so she could grin at you. “You’re lucky I like it when all my furniture smells like you.”

“Oh my god, perv.” You giggled when she nipped at your hip before rubbing her nose over the gusset of your panties. “You’re such a dirty old lady.”

“Watch your mouth or I’ll spank you instead of licking your pussy.” She buried her face in your cunt and moaned even as she pinched your thigh in warning.

“Oh nooooooooo…” You yelped when she pulled back and swatted your pussy over your panties. “How terrible for me.”

“Oh… shut up.” Nat rolled her eyes before going back to work, taking the crotch of your panties between her teeth and growling mischievously when she started to drag them down your legs.

“Nat!” She didn’t stop when the doorbell rang, just grumbling as she kept dragging your underwear off like she was a riled up frat boy. “That’s the food!”

“But I’ve already got a warm, delicious meal right here.” Nat huffed when you poured at her, sitting up with your panties still in her mouth and giving you a show of sucking your juices out of them before she tossed them aside. “But I know you want your pasta.”

“Thank you.” You tugged the sweatshirt down to cover your hips and covered yourself with the blanket, clapping excitedly when you smelled the bolognese. “You’re the best sugar mommy ever.”

“You’re such a tease.” She pulled you into her lap after handing you your container, kissing your temple when you bit into your garlic bread. “I do love spoiling you, though, sweet little peach. So eat your pasta, and I’ll let you eat all the tiramisu while I have you for dessert.”

[zombified-queer]

from the choose violence one 13. worst blorboficiation (whatever fandom you feel the strongest about)

Tumblr show me my GODDAMN inbox questions challenge (impossible).

Okay so I'm going to go down a Hitlist Of Blorbos in no particular order:

Lobby Boy - I think we get so wrapped up in his "pathetic wet kitten born in a cardboard box all alone" swagger that we forget he took on the Owner and won. LOVE that for lobbert. I wish people gave him more bite! More spine! Make him a bit of a bitch y'know?

The Hotel - Look I GET IT. She's a fuckoff huge horror abomination of unfathomable power. Yeah. Great. But if I hear someone bitch one more time about how she "can't love" I'm going to mail a highlighted copy of the Alex Potenski script TO THEIR HOUSE. I'm going to write a phD thesis on why they're Wrong and why [slaps the top of The Hotel] this girliepop can fit so much love in her it HURTS.

John Gaius - He's my silly little rabbit and my webkinz milk plushie. BUT I think a lot of people overlook that in His Whole Shit to become God he used the trappings of colonialism imposed on him as an Indigenous man to justify his empire and its power. He's a bit of a big kid playing soldier doing the same cycle that was done to him but, like, one Indigenous person to another I totally understand where bestie was coming from.

Palamedes Sextus - This one isn't mean and this is just me fucking around but we should consider that the reason Palamedes Sextus survived the Lesbian Necromancers In Space Novels long enough for Paul when Local Hot Boy Naberius Tern died so bad forever was because Palamedes was a Secret Third Thing (he/him lesbian, trans girl, etc.)

Murderbot - If I see you making Murderbot make the "ultimate sacrifice" of being hugged one more time, I'm gonna jam a governor module down your fucking throat and make you choke on it. Murderbot is allowed boundaries and it's also my best fucking friend.

GLaDOS - This bitch would have made a whole romantic candlelit dinner for Chell and been like "oh well it's RUINED now" because she is a Failgirl. She fumbled that weird little human so badly. Love that for her.

Genie - The gun really went "Population control is better than gun control" in the middle of a quest to increase the number of Talking Revolvers out there. I think we need to talk about that. Like at all. The fucking IRONY of this bitch (affectionate).

[smoshidiot]

PT 2!

ENJOYABLE

Feet for Hands The California Stereotype Experiment Boxman's Christmas Frankie Rogers is James Bond We Were Robbed Stop Copying Me!! Apple Vision Pro SUCKS If Guys Had Girl Problems He Was Trapped in a Room for 20 Years One Letter Off Superheroes Phone Nicknames Hurt Backwards Curse Words Chips Ghost How to be an Awesome Hacker Food Battle 2016 If People Acted Like They Do Online One Letter Off Video Games The Vlog Virus One Letter Off Movies Teleporting Fat Guy Another YouTube Apology Video Celebrities Are Insane Santa is Rea lTransformers Rap Three Wishes The Assassins Handshake Batman's Cool Internet Video Beef 'n Go A Merry Gangsta Christmas Smosh Snatchers Twilight: New Moon Deleted Scenes 1-3 Grammar Police I Heart Burgers The Famous Cheese Guy If Video Games Were Real If Scary Movies Were Real My Fanny Pack Inappropriate Sonic 2 Guys 1 Bathroom The Future Sucks That Damn Trash Pile That Damn Rap Music If Cartoons Were Real Cute Furry Kittens Biggest Zit Ever I Suck at Draw Something A Cult Brainwashed Me How To Be A Cop Mime Fail If the Internet Were Real If Movies Were Real 2 I'm a Pirate How to Dump Your Girlfriend Runbrella My Embarrassing Bathroom Secret The New Ghostbusters My Magical Tapeworm If TV Shows Were Real Gamer Gets Trolled Rejected Mario Games I Lost My Hair Pokemon In Real Life 4 If Video Games Were Real 2 iPhone 5 Parody Emo Hair is Dangerous PEN15 Club Worst Online Date Ever That Damn Movie My Bobblehead is Evil Drivers Ed Crap Rap My Stupid Dying Grandpa Zelda in Real Life Life Better-ers The Rarest Pokemon Card We Found a Dead Guy I Have Kirby Powers How to Survive a Burglary New Pokemon Crossovers Good vs Surprisingly Good Amazing New Workout We Need Friends Holy Crap! 2 Billion Views! Your Dumb Im Dumber Pimps of Prom Horny Cellmate (Smosh Libs) My Bathroom Disaster Pokemon In Real Life 5 Movie Reboots Suck How to be a YouTube Commenter A Real Ouija Board No Spoilers Taylor Swift Dumped Me Conjoined Challenge Sex Turban The Legend of Zelda Netflix Trailer Movie Translation Fails Montage Machine Every Instagram Ever The Mother's Day Rule The Internet In Real Life We're In Super Mario Bros 2 Apple Watch SUCKS Yelp for People We're In Super Mario Bros 3 Tom Cruise is my Roommate The Car that Runs on Grass Addicted to Pranking Hoverboard Commercial Parody Ghost Gets Haunted by Humans We Forced Ian's Mom to do an Escape Room We're in Super Mario Maker Every Superhero Ever Guy's Guide to Football World's Smallest House If You Get this Text You Die Adult Magic School Bus Breaking News: Brad is Missing Law and Order: ZCD Movies on Drugs 2 Am I a Bad Boyfriend? Every Roommate Ever One Letter Off TV Shows Social Media Divorce Court If People Were Cars The Fuckboy Song

MID - GOOD

New Year's Eve PSA Spiderman, Spiderman Three Guys in a Hotel Boxman Loses The Election Selling Out?! 5 Ways to Get a Girl Lizard Rabies Super Powers Halo Ruined My Life My New Hot Girlfriend Harry Potter Deleted Scenes 7 Uses of a $10,000 Check Charlie the Drunk Guinea Pig Ian Is Pregnant Anthony Gets Engaged Washington's First Video Blog Mighty Smoshin Power Rangers If Kids Shows Were Real How to Hide Your Wiener in Public My 3D Glasses Changed Everything China Stole Our Ideas If Holidays Were Real Rejected Videos Makeup for Men Hot Robot Does Our Chores When Justin Bieber Hit Puberty Teens in the Wild Charlie the Drunk Guinea Pig 3 Charlie the Drunk Guinea Pig 4 My Mail Order Bride Wii U Sports Dubstep Commercials Suck Life Hacking Attention Facebook Users Nipples on YouTube Hitchhiking 5,000,000 Subscribers How to Cheat on Your Girlfriend 15Hr Energy Drink A Smoshy Christmas That's Hot! Taken 4: The Prequel The Most Violent Game Ever My Friend's Hot Sister Magic Wipes Scribblenauts in Real Life I Have a Secret Son 22 Crazy Vines (That Don't Exist) Texting Gone Wrong Banned Airplane Safety Video Loki Interview Prank Smosh vs Zombies Flappy Bird Ruined My Life Name Rap or Die Backwards Challenge I Can Hear Your Thoughts Magic iPod We're Stuck in Slow Motion Autocorrect Fail Real Mario Lava Floor If Video Games Were Real 3 Emma Warson Surprise Prank The Adventure Time Adventure 19 More Crazy Vines (That Don't Exist) Real Watch Dogs Anime Voice Swap iPhone 6 Revealed The Rock Interview Prank If Bieber Wrote His Songs Top 10 Video Game Dances 9 Most Horrible Bosses Real Minecraft Vacation 6 Ways to Get a Girl If Movies Were Real 3 Disney Star Wars Worst Proposals Ever What Guys Are Really Thinking Japanese Titanic We're in Super Mario The End of Christmas Marvel's The Lie Detector Every Boyfriend Ever Every Oscars Ever Every Super Villain Ever Smosh Solves Climate Change Video Game Items In Real Life 2 If TV Shows Were Real 3 Every Horror Movie Ever Every Football Game Ever If Every Thief was a Getaway Driver

hey guys: i ranked every smosh video

yes, every. single. smosh video. (every main channel sketch from 2005-2017 + 2023)

here it is under the cut if for some damn reason you're curious

♡ ABSOLUTE FAVES ♡ Paranormal Easy Bake Oven Sleepwalking Disaster Mortal Kombat Theme Food Battle 2006 Food Battle 2023 The Legend of Zelda Rap Axe Murderer Battleship Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Theme Boxman's Girlfriend Pokemon Theme Ian's Birthday Anthony Gets a Haircut Pokemon Theme REVENGE That Damn Neighbor Assassins Creed 3 Song My Dead Friend Boxman 2.0 Boxman Smosh Short 1: Dolls Unitarded A Very Hairy Situation w/Billy Mays Anthony is Mexican Left Handed Magic Keyboard Food Battle 2007 That Damn Yard Sale Four Years Foreplay Pokemon In Real Life Stuck in a Toilet My Mom's AMAZING Video Sex Ed Rocks Going to the Mountains Stop Copying Me! Cursed Magic 8 Ball We Rule High School Dixon Cider Smosh the Movie Real Death Note Firetruck I Broke My Foot 1 Hour Special Ghostmates Food Battle 2008 The Ultimate Shoedown WTF! I'm Old! Food Battle 2010 Dolls: 10 Years Later The Real Party Song Kiss Currency PRETTY DAMN GOOD

Smash Rap Molester Moon Hand Bomb Sleeping Pill Disaster My Grandpa's Dirty Secret Food Battle 2011 Quest for the Scooter Smosh Found Dead Garrett's Blog How Not to Act on a First Date Longest Staring Contest Ever Extreme Sleepover Hardcore Max Real Voodoo Doll He's Driving Me Crazy First Person Shooters Suck Drink Your Own Piss Parents SuckWe're Stuck Together We Finally Released Our Banned Video Boxman for President Cat Soup I Caught Every Pokemon Ian is Dangerous Ian's First Girlfriend Ian Gets Lucky Manspider Happy Cow Food Battle 2012 Pizza Zombies Food Battle 2013 Evil Fortune Cookie Hardcore Max 2 Food Battle 2014 License Test Toy Airplane Food Battle X Finger Guns Google Glass SUCKS My Mutant Rash The NEW Smosh TV Show That Damn Shower EDITOR! Camp in a Van Sexual Sun Every Smosh Video Ever Addicted to Selfies Hide and Seek My Best Friend is a Robot How Google's Space Ship Failed Business Boy Emoji Curse Human Pokemon Battle Rejected Zelda Games We're Stuck in Fan Fiction

I LIKED THIS ONE

A Hairy Situation w/ Billy Mays Anthony's Death That Damn Prison Break Anthony's Resurrection Evil AI Tried to Kill Me We Summoned a Demon Help I Became an NPC Stranded Transformers Theme How Not to Make a First Impression The Best Car EVER Reunited? The HauntingMale Model Replacement Needed Easy Step April First Evil Chain Letter Power Rangers Theme Life as Ghosts Ep 1-4 Crybaby I'm Not Racist Pokemon In Real Life 2 The BEST Bottled Water Meeting My Identical Twin I Killed the Tooth Fairy Guys' Guide to Hugging Guys My Real Pet Pikachu Homeless Millionaire The Ditto - Movie Trailer Meat In Your Mouth I Love Lou Ferigno Anthony Poses for Playgirl?! Vader and Me Killer Teddy Bear That Damn Punishment Arm Wrestling TO THE DEATH If Superheroes Were Real Worst Twist Endings Ever I'm Naked Pokemon In Real Life 3 How to Cover Up a Murder The World's First Internet Tutorial Motion Games Suck I'm Possessed By a Demon Addicted to Honey Boo Boo Child My New Best Friend is a Robot My Weird Addiction Food Battle 2013 Assassins Creed 4 Song So Many Hickies Guns Suck My Morning Routine Guy's Guide to Being Manly Jurassic Pokemon Magic iPad 21 Things I'd Rather Do Than Smoke Netflix Rap Video Game Items In Real Life My Hot Online Girlfriend Murder Party

[thenextchapter22]

Mail Order... Kitten Girl

Part 2! New Masters!

Description: Satan accidentally orders a special type of ‘cat’ online after having a few too many drinks…

Tags: Past Abuse, Past Non/Con, Slavery, Pet Play, Cat Hybrids, Fluff, Comfort, Sexual Relations

Pairing(s): Reader/Everyone (but Luke)

Word Count: 669 words

Link to my AO3: Click Here

Part One

Authors Note: So I promise that the next chapter will be longer, but for now please enjoy! :D

+++++ MINORS DNI +++++

_+_

“You didn’t. Please tell me you did not, Satan.”

“I—I honestly can’t recall what happened, but it does say my name on the inside of the box she came in…”

“Unbelievable. I can see Mammon doing this, but you aren’t so stupid… or so I thought.”

“HEY! I wouldn’t do this, okay? No way would I waste my money this way—”

“Shut up, Mammon.” Several voices said monotonously.

Your new masters did not seem happy to see you. As soon as your box was opened and you were greeted by their faces, they were shocked and seemed unsure. The blonde haired man stepped back and you crawled forward on your hands and knees, stark nude with a bright pink bow around your waist, and curled your tail around your thigh as you waited for something to happen.

The house was very fancy but it was expensive to buy a Kitten girl so you knew they had to be rich. But it sounded like this was a mistake.

Still, you had an instinct to bare your belly when you first saw them all. There were seven you counted, each different but all pretty. Some more shocked looking than others. And it made you feel things inside, a tingly sensation. They were so gorgeous, you had to have them as your Masters. Anything was better than being back at that place.

But they did seem a little strange. They also all looked weird, their clothes were a bit different, and you had a feeling that something wasn’t quite right with them. Especially the dark haired man. His eyes were red and you hadn’t seen that in a human before.

“I did get a little… drunk… last night. It’s possible I ordered… or so I thought I ordered a cat…”

A large, really annoyed sigh came from the red-eyed man before he spoke. “Well, get her out of here. Send her back.”

“You can’t do that, look at how adorable she is~”

“Asmodeus. She’s not staying. Send her back.”

No, this wasn’t happening. If you got sent back you were dead, or you would be close to it, or sold to a perverted old man or something. Being a pet to all these sexy men wasn’t totally a bad idea.

You started shaking immediately and tears were falling from your eyes. “P-please… d-d-don’t…” It had been a while since you spoke words.

The feminine one pointed at you, and nodded frantically. “See, she wants to stay! Look at her, she’s so small and fragile, I just want to cuddle her and play with her. Please, let’s keep her!”

You looked up at him and used all the charm you could. Big eyes and head tilts and flickering tail, the whole thing. You had to try your hardest so you could stay.

Somehow it worked, because he cooed at you. “Awww! She’s begging with her big eyes, Lucifer~”

The red-eyed one, named Lucifer, sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Well. Satan bought her, so it’s ultimately his choice I suppose.”

You didn’t know who “Satan” was, the name was scary as hell, so you looked around at each face waiting for someone to speak up.

“She stays.”

You started to purr. You were accepted.

Lucifer looked you over, and then realized you were nude and turned his head. Was he blushing? Somehow, his commanding aura made it seem like he would not blush easily. “Hm. She needs to be dressed. We can’t have her running nude around the house.”

“And her stomach has been growling this entire time,” the large red-headed man said. “She needs to eat. I’ll make something.”

“Very well. Just don’t eat all the food before you give it to her, Beel.”

Food and clothes? You had a good feeling about this place. Even if they did things to you like your previous place did, somehow you felt things would turn out okay. A Kitten’s instinct perhaps? Hopefully one that would not prove to be wrong.

[foxilayde]

Take Over [Steven Grant x Fem!Reader]

Warnings: Oh boy, a lot of them. Marc is OOC, you’ll see what I mean. Savagery. Feet Stuff. Restraints. Rough PIV. Cunnilingus. Biting. Smut. Smutty Smutty Smut Smut Smuuut. 18+ ONLY

Summary: There’s a girl in his bed and a wolf at his door.

Word count: 3.3k

Author’s Note: @paper-n-ashes sent me an ask the other day with some very descriptive language and... well here ya go. 

[gif by @userpoe ]

How did he get here? The question doesn’t have the usual punch of legitimate concern or fear, it’s an exclamation of disbelief that rings in his head. How did he get here? With you? It’s rhetorical this time. He remembers every interaction with you. There doesn’t seem to be any missing pieces. Sunsets on respective balconies, pleasantries on the elevator, mis-delivered packages, the fateful night of the missing keys and a late locksmith; which finally brought you into his direct company. When he fell asleep peacefully on your mid-century couch, no restraints, till the shouts of the locksmith woke him. More tea dates, more mixed mail, going to your apartment to feed Bitty the kitten… and it’s all led to this right here. How did he get here?

You’re straddling him and taking off your top, lifting it over your head desperately, and flinging it with relief. Your periwinkle camisole underneath clings to the curves of your form and you bend over once again to kiss him with swollen lips and to thumb his cheeks with tender hands. Your lips are hot and fast and Steven thinks he just might pass out and miss a few days if he’s not careful.

He knows he should be more… participatory, but as it is he’s already having a hard time breathing. Just laying under you, resting his hands on your thighs is about all he can take. His lack of action doesn’t appear to be slowing you down any and he’s hardly moving his mouth at all when you lick into it.

Don’t be such a fucking starfish, Steven.

That voice. That dreadful fucking voice.

Steven scrunches his eyes closed even more, as if that could stop the cropping up of the man in his mind. The one who is him, and also isn’t.

Kiss her back, lick her tongue, Steven. You know you want to.

It isn’t bad advice. Not bad at all, but Steven can’t help it. It’s pavlovian, the fucking dinner bell of danger. No one wants a voice in their head. Sure, everyone’s got a narrator from time to time, a Jiminy Cricket on their shoulder- but this is different. Steven knows that most people don’t have voices giving them unsolicited advice. And the voice is getting impatient.

If you don’t start doing something, she’s going to leave, shrimp dick. Just let me take over.

That wakes him up a bit. Does the trick- like the puzzles he uses to keep himself at bay from the tides of exhaustion. He wants to be here, he wants to feel you. He wants to lick into your mouth and earn the way that you’re holding him so dearly. But even more so, he doesn’t want the voice to have you. It’s irrational, he thinks, that by sticking his tongue in your mouth he’s saving you from the voice in his head from having you; but it’s the only puzzle piece that fits in his jagged life. In order to save you from the voice, he’ll have to obey it.

You let out the most adorable surprised squeal when his hands come to tangle in the wild mane of your make-out hair. He licks your tongue the way you were licking his, imitating the moves as best he can and earning an aggressive roll of your hips over his straining lap. You taste like cinnamon tea and candied figs. He licks deeper.

That’s more like it. Now her tits.

Steven doesn’t want to be forward like that, even as wanton as you seem, he fears that if he just goes for it- gropes your tits, you’re going to smack him and leave. It’d be just his luck to get a taste and have it walk out of his padlocked door forever. And not only for the lack of the lust you are so generously bestowing; but for tea dates, for mixed mail, the way you smile at him in the elevator sadly and run your knuckles on his cheek telling him that he should get some rest with so much genuine care.

She’s fucking grinding on you. That’s the universal signal for 'grab my tits'.

Again, the voice isn’t wrong. He knows deep down it’s not. And wrong or not, the voice must be obeyed. So Steven’s shaky hands make their way from the base of your neck and tremble all the way down your sternum to the soft blue covering of your pretty chest. So pretty. So soft. You’re so soft here, so Steven touches you softly. Mouth falling open with relieved breath, he forgets to keep licking. He doesn’t think you’re wearing a bra underneath the soft camisole because he can feel the hardness of your nipples underneath the fabric. The stroking of his fingers is feather-light and you press down harder into his lap, pushing your chest more presently into his palms.

You are, amazingly, not running away, you’re pressing closer. He can hardly believe his calibrations were so off. The way you’re always so tender and sweet, he never thought you’d be pushing yourself onto him like this. He strokes the pads of his thumbs across your clothed nipples in tandem, as tentatively as possible, terrified to disrupt the spell you have cast over him.

Not like that, rip her fucking top off and get your mouth on them.

Steven blanches at the aggressive thought. But he wants it too, something dark inside of him wants to see if you’re just as soft under the thin covering. So he hooks his fingers into the hem, where your middle is bare, and testingly drags the fabric up your torso. You hum in approval into his mouth and the sound emboldens him to pull it over your head, and as soon as the kiss is broken by the garment, he sits up and places delicate kisses to your exposed chest. Peppering your soft skin with quick pecks and humming excitedly when he finds that yes indeed you are soft, even softer than the camisole. And warm, warm with a pleasant give when he pushes his lips slowly instead of hurriedly, when he savors your scent and the slight stickiness of perspiration. Even your sweat tastes good. To him you are perfect. Absolutely perfect, like a dream. Just not hisdreams. A good dream.

Bite her nipples. Make her moan.

Steven winces at the voice. He can’t hurt you. He won’t hurt you. He compromises and licks at your nipples instead. You grab his hair with force and push his face closer into the give of your breasts. Steven can’t help but shift his hips up, straining to feel the way your heat soaks out of your tight blue jeans. He sucks a pebbled nipple and whines with pleasure when you scratch his scalp and pull his thick hair.

She wants more. How can you not see that, you pathetic virgin?

God, he’s trying his best, he really is. But he can’t- he simply can’t let the voice have his way fully. If he gives in completely then what’s the fucking difference between him having you and shutting down and giving in, blacking out and sifting through the aftermath? He won’t turn you over to the voice, he fears your sweet softness can’t withstand the absolute beast he feels roaring inside of him; feral to devour you. Steven takes tiny tastes and turns you over, onto your back. God, the way you smile. Steven knows you’re a goddess. A real one. Your head is sunk between the pillows of his bed and he can’t help but laugh in disbelief.

“Are you real?” He asks in earnest.

You bite your bottom lip, still smiling. God he’s afraid of every movement he makes- afraid that something he says or does will make the dream blink out of existence.

“Come here and find out” Your grin is so wide that it squeezes your eyes nearly closed and your giggle forces a disbelieving breath out of him. You lean forward to grab the hem of his shirt, just as he did to you. His shirt catches on his wild curls a bit and you fling it to join your blouse somewhere beyond the ring of sand at the base of his bed.

You’re kissing him again, arms wrapped lovingly around his neck and cradling his head in your forearms. Your naked torso pressed against his own is the most delicious, delightful, dreamy thing he could ever hope for and even if this dalliance doesn’t go beyond this, he’ll treasure the feeling for the rest of his god awful life.

What the hell are you waiting for? Take her fucking pants off and tongue fuck the poor girl. She’s not going to wait much longer, Steven. Like I said, let me step in. I’ll take care of her. I know what she needs.

His hungry kisses falter and you pull back to ask him,

“What’s wrong?”

You’re stroking his cheek again, the same way you did in the elevator and he nearly tells you everything. About the blackouts, about the missing time, about the monster that taunts him even in his happiest hour. But he doesn’t. Instead he asks,

“Can I? Could you? I mean… can I undress you?”

Ha! You’re making her dry with all this weak talk, Steven. The girl doesn’t want your conversation. She wants your cock.

You smile and nod, “Okay, yeah.”

You lie back again, head between his pillows again, and begin unbuttoning your jeans.

Tsk tsk tsk, Steven. Making her do all the work? Next you’ll be asking her to take care of herself while you watch from the corner.

“Shut up!” Steven mutters… and immediately regrets it.

Your eyes go wide with confusion and you cover your chest defensively.

“N-n-n-nno, not you! Not you, never you, never you. Love your voice. You talk as much as you want, sing if you like! I’m talking about.. the upstairs neighbor.”

You squint in concentration, tilting your ear towards his silent ceiling,

“I don’t hear anything…”

Steven dives down and captures your lips with his and unbuttons your jeans, pulling them down your beautiful thighs. It’s the only thing he can think of to do to distract you from his stupid mistake and it amazingly works. He clumsily frees your ankles from the trousers and tosses them into the sand ring.

Nice save, idiot.

Steven stops himself from slapping the side of his head to chastise the voice for interrupting the stunning sight of you. You’re splayed out for him-your knickers are a soft pink lacy thing that makes him want to cry with joy. He doesn’t need the voice to tell him to pull them off of you. And when he does it, it’s with a grunt befitting the animal that lies in the recesses of his brain. A brother of a sound, a wolf of the same pack.

You don’t seem to mind, in fact you emit one of your own at the savagery.  A pleased deep tone that placates the horror in his head. He’s surprised the pink lace comes off in one piece when he plucks it from your lovely feet- dotted with light green varnish. He holds them to his face and inhales before slingshotting them across the room.

Holy shit, where did that come from? What on earth made him do that? He’s not himself completely, is he? The monster, with a foot in the door, bleeds into his purpose and drips along the veins of his hands as he sinks down to your core to capture your begging folds into his mouth.

That’s it, Steven. Don’t be shy. Eat her till she begs you to stop, lick her till there’s nothing left.

There’s no logical way Steven should know to hike your thighs up over his shoulders, but he does so with practiced finesse and settles into you for the long haul, shaking his head side to side in a feral feasting fashion. The action makes you gasp and moan and dig your heels into the flexed muscles of his bare back.

Give into it Steven, see how much she likes it?

He can’t deny that everything about your body is telling him more, more, more. And you’ve been nothing but responsive to the actions. Never pushing him away, only drawing him in deeper, closer, louder, more, more, more.

So he cracks the door a bit wider, unhooks one chain and then another and greets the dark beast; huffing and puffing on the other side. He does not let him over the threshold, but he allows the animal to have a front row view, to scan the interior, to get a good whiff of you. And, fuck, do you smell simply delicious.

His tongue is a wolf’s; he claws the giving meat of your thighs, and If he bites and licks your pussy much harder than he’s already doing, he’s going to draw blood. But judging by the way your feet cling to his lats and how twisted your fists have become in his hair, you might not mind it. You might even like it for all he knows. The thought makes the beast howl and Steven has to rip himself away from your pleading sex before he does something he’ll regret.

That was a close one, Steven. I could fucking taste her.

Steven shivers and he’s not sure why. He gets to his knees and you’re up again, chasing him, sucking his hardened nipple into your mouth and unbuttoning his trousers. You’re acting as ravenous as the beast and he briefly wonders if you could have the same war happening inside of you the way that he does, and if you do, your she-beast is clearly winning out because you bite his nipple. He groans and grits his teeth in pleasure.

You can’t be the same sweet woman who washes his hair in your kitchen sink, who bottle feeds baby kittens. You’re a vixen who is pushing his pants and trousers down to his knees and pushing him down onto his back with eyes like he’s never seen. He’s heard the term ‘bedroom eyes’ and now he’s got a visual to pair with it.

He kicks his pants and trousers off his feet and his eyes are round as coins when you take him in hand and lower yourself onto him. You’re breaking yourself open on his cock and Steven is back at square one, it seems, with his hands resting limply on your thighs and his mouth slack and dumb. You’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, and he knows this is real. This isn’t a dream. It’s far too lovely.

Steven forgets the voice, forgets life entirely, the only thing in the universe that means anything to him is your undulating form of soft curves and sweet smells. He reads the pleasure on your face and he can hardly believe that just lying there is making your face twist with pleasure, making your walls pulse and clench. You drag your fingernails down his chest and the voice is back.

Fucking starfish. Goddamnit Steven, fuck the poor girl or I’ll do it for you.

Steven growls and snaps his hips up, punching a sharp breath out of you and earns himself a deeper nail dig into his chest. He gathers your wrists in one palm and lifts them up over your head while he sits up and and he pushes you down onto your back, hands above your head. He’s going to keep you tied up nice and tight and behave for him, to be a good girl for him. He latches the ankle restraint at the corner of his bed around your crossed wrists. He then wraps the loose cord around the post so it’s taut-  and now your body is stretched out for him like a grecian vase that he intends to break. Steven blinks rapidly.

“I’m sorry. I- I don’t know why I did that…”

His fingers shake as he goes to undo the restraint, fumbling with the leather strap. He’s such an idiot, what made him do that? Horrible call. Dreadful, you’ll do more than slap him, you’ll knee him in the groin and throw sand in his eyes before you leave and he’ll deserve it.

“Steven, Steven… Steven!” You shout to snap him out of whatever path his mind just went along. His fingers stop and he’s on the verge of crying. That’s all you need, to go home with his tears on you. Lord.

But you surprise him when you tell him to “leave them on” “really” “I like it”. The phrases don’t make sense. You like being tied up?

Fucking hell Steven. She’s practically begging you to manhandle her, to fuck her hard, and you’re going to fucking cry on her. Ladies and gentlemen, the real life forty year old virgin!

Steven doesn’t have time to be upset. Through the fog of confusion, of back and forth, up or down, he can feel your only free extremities jerking him off. Your knees are bent wildly and your pretty pale green toes are playing with his still slick cock, sliding up and down in a cute clumsy fashion. Trying to get him to full mast after he deflated from panic. You’re biting your lip at him wickedly and a snarl rips through his chest and he’s back on top of you. His hands skim up the pulled-taut lateral muscles of your stretched form. Fuck. You’re a beauty. A dream. No, not a dream. A mirage. An oasis he intends to drain.

He licks into your slack mouth and he’s hard again in no time. He doesn’t even need to grip himself to push into you. With a flawless motion he hitches your thigh over his hip and he slides into your hot fluttering flesh without breaking the kiss, drinking your moans and your cries.

That’s more like it! Attaboy, Steven.

The voice is his cheerleader now, his teammate. He fucks into you with an animal savagery he didn’t know was possible, folding your hips into your middle and punching the breath out of you with every fucking thrust, as if the goal was to wake the building with your muffled screams of sharp pleasure.

He absorbs what he can of it. Of the helpless cries, made further helpless with the way you look: like a supine bunny rabbit in a snare. The thought makes him even harder and he grinds up into the base of your cervix, curious as to how long he’ll have to stay here, grinding harshly into your mound, before tears start to prick the corners of your eyes. He rocks his hips so slowly, but with enough force to keep a linebacker down. He wonders peripherally if he can crack your hips by doing this to you. Maybe if you were on the hardwood floor. Probably not the bed… probably not.

Your knees shake at his sides and you gasp for air and he can feel it. Fuck. He can feel you quake and pulse and suck at him. It’s the most powerful fucking feeling in the world and he licks your quivering lips like he owns them.

“S-steven…” You moan. The sound is trembling and small and you gasp, cumming around his forceful hardness. Your hips attempt to buck up into him, but he’s pressed so damn hard onto you that the movement does nothing but shift his cock electrically against your spongy insides. The action sends him over the edge. An immediate thin sheen of sweat coats his body, adding to the slickness and he slides in deeper to you, shooting his load into your womb. Marking you on the inside. His teeth find your neck and bite, creating a matching external claim.

Mine, mine, mine.

The voice chants. He agrees.

END

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This tag list is INSANE lmao, if you wish to be removed, just dm me, no hard feelings I promise. Love ya, sluts.

@roanniom @jedi-mando @santiagogarcia@supernovafeather@paper-n-ashes @veuliee @soyelfuegoquearde@montygirl @wyn-dixie @witchyavenger @writefightandflightclub@isvvc-pvscvl  @picklesgoose @mylifeisactuallyamess  @general-latino@winniedaboo96-blog @youvebeenlivingfictional@aerolanya@tlcwrites @revolution-starter @mariesackler@millllenniawrites@woakiees @dreamingindigital @writing-in-april@nowritingonthewall @waatermelon-sugaar @pumpkin-stars@kesskirata @budcooper @kikis-writing-world @blackberries45@teacore-hunny  @beepboopyoda @jellybelle @hotchlover-blog @ophelialoveshandsomemen  @samspade @emilykjh@writefightandflightclub @gottalovethefandom @temptressofwaikiki @mstgsmy @brandyllyn @autumnleaves1991-blog @abelslittlebunny @moon-kn1ght @thedukeofcaladan @winchestershiresauce  @miraclesabound @sunfairyy @ozarkthedog @smiley-asylum @princessxkenobi @batsycatsyclown @themartiansdaughter 

[dc41896]

7 out of 10

✨Pairing✨: Andy BarberxBlack Reader

Summary🪄: Andy doesn’t know what to think of this new customer service

⚠️: Fluff💕!

A/N: This is based off an adorable TikTok I saw, so I’m hoping I do it justice trying to write something off the top of my head. Hope you guys like it☺️!

Locking the door behind him, a tired sigh passes his lips as he tosses his keys in the dish and placed his briefcase on the wooden table in the foyer holding today’s mail: a couple of bills, a store catalog for you, and a postcard for baby Sienna signed by your parents from their vacation in Hawaii. The two year old was sure to squeal and awe at the picture of two dolphins breaking the water’s surface with what looked to be smiles on their faces.

“Sweetheart, I’m home!,” he announces removing his suit jacket before loosening the solid, navy blue tie around his neck.

“In the bathroom!,” you shout back followed by water splashing and high pitched giggles as if Sienna was trying to announce her presence as well. After a day filled with hearings and paperwork, he was more than happy to sit back against the soft, cream cushions of the couch; house flooded with laughs and little songs from his girls flowing down the hall. He let the sweet sounds and day’s exhaustion drift him to sleep, eventually stirring again a few minutes later at the constant taps on his chest.

“Hi princess,” he groggily smiles seeing his daughter’s mahogany eyes as she holds out a small plastic cup incredibly close to his face.

“Offree dada.” He can’t help but chuckle at her offering of coffee, and how witnessing him, or you, pour the dark liquid into his usual white mug before adding a small amount of sugar every day only solidified the idea in her head that “daddy must really like coffee.”

“Thank you honey.”

She carefully climbs down his legs in her light green butterfly onesie toddling over to her play kitchen set where she babbled to herself while searching through the plastic plates and utensils.

“Let me guess, coffee?,” you ask motioning to the little red cup as you lean down to meet your husband’s lips.

“I don’t know if I should be impressed at how attentive she is, or worried that she’s trying to tell me something,” he replies making you giggle as you settle in the cushions beside him, his arm sliding around your waist to trace his fingers along the side of your recently shaved thigh.

“Well she made me five cups in the span of an hour, so I’m thinking it’s just her specialty.”

As if knowing she was the topic of discussion, she hurries over with tight curls bouncing atop her head in two puffs and a mini frying pan in her hand holding it out towards Andy.

“Food?”

This meant she wanted you to give her your order so she could “cook” for you. Something she’d loved to do since getting the play set for her birthday, feeling as if she was just like her parents getting to prepare food in her own little kitchen.

“Hmm what do I want?,” Andy pretended to think, lightly scratching his beard. He’d typically just choose one of her favorites whenever she’d ask making her face light up before running back to her stove. This time though, Andy wondered how she’d react if he gave more than one answer.

“What about pizza..and French fries?”

“Oooh!,” she gasps clearly happy with his choice.

“And nuggets with tatoes,” he adds watching her excitedly bounce on her toes before walking towards the pretend kitchen.

“Ohh and Mac and cheese! And yogurt and ice cream.” Sienna let out a small huff, not being able to cook yet since her dad seemed to want everything tonight, which made you laugh to yourself at her growing impatience.

“I think I want cake too with cookies and candy and-,”

“Dada! Dada!,” she interrupted shaking his leg seemingly trying to tell him “that’s too much!”

“What? I’m giving my order.”

Babbling to herself as she left the pan on his lap, her feet pad to her toy chest retrieving Kit, her favorite kitten stuffed animal, before lying down next to the oven with a tired sounding sigh.

“I uh think she said if you want all that, you’re cooking it yourself. She’s off kitchen duty,” you laugh truly tickled at your daughter’s sass. Andy can’t help but laugh to himself either, getting up to place the small pan with the rest of her toys before picking her up from the floor to rest against his chest with arms around his neck.

“Be glad you’re cute. Anybody else I would’ve given a low score for customer service,” he smiles kissing the top of her sleeping head.

Taglist: @fumbling-fanfics @honeychicana @lady-olive-oil @themyscxiras @melinda-january @lovelymari4 @ladydmalfoy @maxcullen @literaturefeen @damnitaa @curlyhairclub @plokyu23 @fullofmelaninsarcasmandepression @nunubug99 @felicity-x0 @ellixthea @jojolu @jnk-812 @brwn-sgr @captainsamwlsn @wildfirecracker @nina-sj @iammyownlover @chaneajoyyy @scoop93535 @secretmysteriousperson

If anyone wants to be tagged, has asked to be tagged but don’t see your name, only want to be tagged for certain people I write for (can be found in masterlist), or no longer wish to be tagged just let me know🤓!

[ravennm84]

Payback

Hey everyone! I’ve been writing this new story for the past couple of days, and am planning to take a break for a while after this. My husband and I are expecting our first child next week and will be focusing on her. For that reason, I decided to give the class some sugar, as we all need some goodness in the world. I’ll be back when things settle down, but until then, Warm-Fuzzies and please enjoy!

It was just an average conversation. Alya was sitting at her desk before class with Lila since Marinette was late again. It was very pleasant until the italian girl said something… wrong.

“After I saved Jagged’s kitten from being run over by the plane and he wrote that song about me, we kept in touch.” Lila tittered away, without a care. “He ended up mentioning how he wanted a pair of special glasses for his tour, so I made him those Eiffel Tower glasses that he loves so much. Next thing I know, he’s bragging about me to all his friends and they’re all asking me to make things for them too. I ended up making a website and going by the alias MDC. Isn’t that amazing?”

Alya hadn’t had a chance to answer as Marinette came rushing into the room a second before the bell rang and Mme. Bustier began her lesson. Although whatever the teacher was saying was practically ignored by the majority of the class that had heard Lila’s claim. 

Because they knew.

They had been there when Marinette had made those glasses for Jagged Stone for the work experience day at Chloe’s family hotel. They knew that Marinette went by the acronym MDC for the initials of her name. Max, Rose, Juleka, Mylene, Kim, and Alya had all helped Marinette set up her website and model her designs a couple months ago, while Lila had been traveling… 

She’s a LIAR!! They all thought at once.

During the next break, Alya quickly set up a group chat with everyone but Lila and Marinette.

FoxyJournalist: You all heard that, right? She’s lying about being MDC, but that’s Marinette!

DJTurtle: So not cool, doesn’t she know that we were there? Is this some kind of joke?

MightIllustrator: Don’t think so, she’s still bragging about it back here.

GothicBeauty: @DJTurtle Agreed, not cool.

Rocker’n’Pink: I can’t believe it! I just emailed Prince Ali to see if he knows her, because if Lila’s lying about this…

BigTeddy: …

SmolTeddy: …

TrueBrain: …

Da’Strongest: … Crap

Sk8Grl: … I second that Crap

FoxyJournalist: Emergency meeting at my place tonight! We need to figure all this out!

DJTurtle: Agreed.

TruQueen: We’ll be there too. I don’t like Dupain-Cheng, but I HATE Rossi.

MissRed: I’ll bring snacks.

By the time class started again, everyone had agreed to meet up after school. The hard part, as it turned out, was shaking the liar, who practically latched onto their group and wouldn’t let them be. It was Mylene you finally came up with an idea, mentioning that they were going to the homeless shelter to help feed people and clean the facility. Lila suddenly remembered that she already had plans and couldn’t come help them, before turning to walk home.

Once she was out of earshot, Alix turned to the other girl with a smirk. “Good going, how’d you know that’d work?”

Mylene shrugged. “I was thinking earlier about all the times she talked about charity work but always made excuses to not come with us when we were doing it. I figured she’d do it this time too, and I was right.”

An hour later the entire class; sans Marinette, Lila, and Adrien, who was at a photoshoot, were gathered in the Cesaire apartment. Everyone had their phones or tablets out, looking up everything that Lila had told them since coming to school. And what they found was anything but comforting.

Connection to Jagged Stone due to saving a kitten: lies, according to articles about his one and only pet for the past 17 years, Fang the crocodile.

Connection to Prince Ali via Go-Green charities: lies, according to Prince Ali himself when he responded to Rose’s email, plus he didn’t do green charities, instead focusing on children’s charities.

Secretly dating Adrien: lies, confirmed when Adrien called Nino back during a break and let it slip that Lila was only his friend and that she made him uncomfortable at times because of how clingy she was.

Every single thing they looked up about Lila turned out to be a lie. And although they couldn’t prove it themselves, that likely meant that all of the diseases and injuries that she’d claimed to have were probably fake too. Meaning that they had been buying her lunch and giving her money for charities, and the money was probably going straight into the liar’s pocket.

“By my calculations, when including all the lunches and food we bought for her, money we donated for charities she wasn’t involved in, and tickets for events she attended with us; Lila Rossi has scammed close to €1,000 from our class. All of which we are not likely to get back from her.” Max groused as he typed away on his tablet.

Alix scoffed. “At least all we lost was some money and a bit of our dignity. I’m pretty sure Marinette went through a lot more than us. Heck, that liar tried to convince me last week that Marinette ruined her homework and said ‘if only she understood what it was like for someone to do that to her’ like she was trying to get me to destroy Marinette’s homework as revenge. I didn’t do it, but I let her copy my homework so she wouldn’t lose any points.”

Juleka’s pale complexion went stark white. “She kept telling me how Marinette was only friends with me so she could get close to Luka and make Adrien jealous, and that I was really trusting to let someone like that near my family.”

“When my headphones broke, she told me that she’d seen Marinette messing with them earlier,” Nino told them, his voice laced with guilt as he remembered giving his oldest friend the cold shoulder for days after that.

Alya’s head dropped into her hands as she struggled to hold back tears. “That liar almost had me convinced that Mari was nothing but a jealous bitch who was out to get rid of her since they both had a crush on Adrien. I can’t believe how close I came to buying that bull.”

“And then there’s the expulsion,” Rose added, her voice quivering. “She was accused of stealing, assault, and cheating on that mock exam. Even though Marinette was reinstated, that kind of stuff doesn’t just disappear from someone’s record. What if that keeps her from being accepted into lycee?”

Everyone went pale at that. Although most turned red in the face a moment later from rage for their friend.

“We can’t let her get away with this!” Kim growled as he began pacing the room.

“But is there anything we can really do?” Mylene asked with tears in her eyes.

When the blonde heiress chuckled, sitting off to the side of the room, everyone turned to glare at her, but she wasn’t phased by their looks. “And this is exactly why I decided to come here. None of you have any idea how to deal with someone like Rossi. I, however, have dealt with those types of people multiple times.” The glares ceased, realizing that Chloe was probably right. 

“One of the best ways to get back at her, would be to use her own lies against her. Do it in a way that the only way out of it is to admit that she’s a liar. And while we do that, we completely tear down the empire that fake HBIC is trying to build, maybe get her expelled like she tried to do to Dupain-Cheng.”

The class stared at her in surprise, not expecting the former hero to actually be useful in this situation. But what she said…

Alya shook her head in surprise. “I never thought I’d say this, but it sounds like you’re the best option. Please, tell us your plan.”

The smirk Chloe gave them, almost made them feel sorry for what was about to happen to the liar.

~oOo~

The following morning when Lila came to class, she saw everyone fawning over something on their phones or tablets. Curious, she stepped next to Alya and looked over her shoulder to find that she was looking at the MDC website. 

She smirked for a second before plastering an appreciative, yet shy grin on her face. “I see you found my website, what do you think of my designs?” 

“Gurl, they are gorgeous! I can’t believe you made such intricate clothes and accessories!” Alya gushed as she continued looking through the pictures until she stopped on a design that she had modeled for Marinette, although, like all the other photos, her face wasn’t shown. “And this one here! It’s like a total dedication to Rena Rouge. Make no mistake, Ladybug will always be my favorite, but Rena’s power is really awesome too.”

“I’m glad you like it!” Lila smiled, she was about to go into describing how she was inspired by the design when Alya asked her something surprising.

“Do you think I can have it? Pretty please?”

Lila came up short, not having expected this. “Well, you can just order it from my website-” she began saying, only to stop when Alya’s expression dropped.

“I don’t understand. You always say that if we need anything to just ask you, and you have this dress listed as in stock on your website, it would be nothing for you to just give it to me, right?”

“I-um-”

“And you even told Marinette the other day that if she were a real friend, she wouldn’t mind giving us free pastries whenever we ask, right?”

“R-right! I’m just surprised that you would be so interested in one of my designs. I’ll bring it in tomorrow!”

“Thanks gurl, you're the best.” Alya gushed before giving Lila a hug that actually kind of hurt. 

Hurrying back to her seat, Lila resisted the urge to curse as she got onto the MDC website to order and overnight the dress to her apartment. Luckily, the mail normally arrived before she left for school. And doing this would help her convince everyone she was the designer MDC.

~oOo~

Lila’s newest lie about being MDC wasn’t going as planned. Sure, she got a lot of praise and people wearing her designs, but it was costing her. Every time she brought in an item that she’d had to buy and overnight to her apartment to give to one of her classmates, another would practically demand another item that was listed as available on the MDC website. A hat for Alix, a hoodie for Kim, a shirt for Max, a dress for Rose, it went on and on. And when she tried to say that she couldn’t, they would say how Marinette would never do such a thing and then start to question what she told them. This left her no choice but to buy everything they wanted herself and give to them. 

Sure, it made her lie all the more believable since she was able to deliver the items they asked for, but it was beginning to clear out her savings. At the rate she was going, she was probably MDC’s best customer.

Then came the day when the MDC website began offering custom orders. Alya asked Marinette for a couple sheets of paper from her sketchbook and a pencil before handing it to Lila. “Gurl, I’ve been wanting you to do something custom for me for weeks, but I wasn’t going to ask since you didn’t have it listed on your website and I didn’t want to take advantage of you. But now, I can tell you exactly what I want and I can even record your process for my blog! Isn’t that awesome?”

Lila gripped the pencil until it nearly snapped. She could barely draw stick figures and she was pretty sure Maribrat knew that, not missing the smirk that the goody-two-shoes was sending her direction. “I would but, oww! My arthritis has been acting up all day and I can barely hold a pencil.” She whimpered pathetically as gingerly gripped her left wrist.

“But that shouldn’t be a problem,” Max spoke up smiling kindly at her. “After all, it’s your left wrist that has arthritis and you’re right handed.”

Shut up, you stupid nerd! She thought, struggling to keep the scowl from her face. “You’re right, but I’m not sure if I’ll have enough time to draw something out before class starts.”

“But, Jagged Stone and Clara Nightingale have commented on your website how you are really good at doing fast concept drawing for your designs. So, it shouldn’t take you too long to come up with something to start with.” Rose commented, her high voice grating on the liar’s nerves.

She was trying to think of another excuse when Chloe began laughing. “You can all stop the act, I think we’ve played it out long enough.”

To Lila’s surprise, the majority of the class nodded before their eager, friendly faces turned to scowls and angry glares as they looked in her direction. Unsure of what else to do, she started faking tears as she looked around the room. “Why are all of you looking at me like that? I haven’t done anything wrong. Did Marinette say something? You know-”

“Cut the crap, Lila! We did our research weeks ago and figured out you’re nothing but a lying bag of nothing.” Chloe cut her off as she stood from her desk and smiled cruelly at the girl. “You really messed up when you started claiming you were the MDC, the rising star of fashion. Everyone in class knows that’s Marinette.”

Unable to help herself, Lila’s head whipped around in shock to glare at the french-asian girl, sitting shocked, but a little smug at her desk. “Is that what Marinette said? She’s lying!”

Alya scoffed this time. “You know, there may have been a point when we might have believed you, but not this time. We were all there when Mari gave those glasses to Jagged Stone and then had her design his album cover. Max and I helped her set up the MDC website. And Rose, Juleka, Mylene, Kim, Max, and I were the ones that modeled the designs posted on her website.”

Lila glared at her. She knew when the jig was up, and there was no point in wasting her energy on her worthless classmates anymore. Still, she couldn’t help but be angry at them. “Well, you all better have the money to pay me back for all the stuff I bought you! Or else I’ll get all of you in trouble with Mme. Bustier and M. Damocles. If you can’t tell, from the time I got Maribrat expelled, I’ve got them both wrapped around my finger.”

“Actually, you can consider all this repaying us.” Max grinned that annoying, calculating grin at her. “Everything you bought was equal to or of similar value to all the lunches we bought you, tickets for events that we covered, or money we donated to your supposed charities, which I’m 96.8% sure was actually your own bank account.”

She growled at that, about to let out a tirade at all of them when Chloe laughed again, gaining her attention again. “Well, all that was to pay back the class, but you’re still not even with Dupain-Cheng or me. I’m sick of seeing your ugly face and hair-don’t in here every day and decided to do something about it. So, I had Daddy get a hold of the Italian Embassy for a meeting the other day. Imagine how surprised and angry they were when the ambassador’s assistant started talking about how incopitant Ladybug and Chat Noir are, since they couldn’t defeat the akuma that had forced her daughter’s school to close for months.”

Lila’s tan skin paled quickly as her head whipped around the room, looking for an escape, but Ivan and Kim were guarding the door. 

“The woman was even more surprised after mentioning which school it was and Daddy told her how it was my school. Then I mentioned a girl that had been out of school for the time the assistant had mentioned, and that she claimed to be in the kingdom of Achu via Embassy funds. The Ambassador wasn’t too happy about what he was hearing and cut the meeting short. Although I did hear her mention that she was planning to speak with the principal and her daughter’s teacher. Speaking of, I wonder why Mme. Bustier is so late for class?

Seconds later, the door Ivan and Kim had been guarding burst open, revealing a very angry Damocles, Mme. Bustier, and a woman that had a strong resemblance to Lila. Without a single word, the woman stomped forward, grabbed Lila by the arm, and began dragging her out of the room. Lila tried to pull free as she pleaded for her mother to listen, but the woman didn’t say a single word as the door closed behind them, leaving a very upset Mme. Bustier standing at the front of the room.

The news quickly spread around school before lunch how Lila had done, and was likely to be expelled for truancy, bullying, lying to the staff, and trying to get Marinette expelled. If that hadn’t been bad enough, an akuma had come fluttering into the courtyard just as the two Rossi’s had been leaving. Lila had pushed her mother away in an effort to catch the akuma, only for a yo-yo to smack her hand to catch it, snapping two of the liar’s fingers in the process. 

Seeing that, M. Damocles had no choice but to call the police while Ladybug and Chat Noir stood guard over Lila, with Alya recording everything from the moment she’d seen the akuma entering the courtyard. Lila screamed and raged as the police handcuffed her and took her away. Ladybug recommended using a facility outside of Paris, as they had witnessed her willingly going after an akuma.

The class never saw Lila again, although they did hear that she had been deported back to Italy and was dropped in a high security prison’s deepest, darkest hole to be forgotten by the world after being convicted for aiding a terrorist. Granted, none of them had expected that when they had set out to get even with Lila, but after seeing her willingly go after an akuma for revenge, they were glad she was gone.

The class had also profusely apologized to Marinette for not believing her, as well as keeping her in the dark about their plan to expose Lila. Marinette accepted their apology, but admitted that she had been starting to figure it out after Lila kept ordering from her website and her classmates ended up with the ordered items. Then, when she had mentioned her theory to Adrien, he’d shown her the group chat and admitted that the class had planned a way to confront and expose Lila. So, she decided to trust her friends and let their plan play out, using the money Lila had spent to buy more supplies and make matching ‘thank you’ gifts for her friends.

And that’s it! I hope you all enjoyed this bit of class sugar. With all the salt out there, I really needed something sweet and this seemed like a good way to do it!

Taglist:

@2confused-2doanything @7-sage-7 @aadnrsstar @abrx2002 @awkwardromances @bayball @babylovebug18 @botanicalfoxx @back-cats-and-broken-mirrors @caffeinetheory @cheshire5210 @chocolateherringtacofan @city-of-all-tunas @classycollectorreviewworld  @corabeth11 @chocolatechipcookiesandcamembert @darkened-flame @delightfulcookiesrecipespizza @fandom-trapped-03 @ghostmaster @iamblinkmarvelarmy @interobanginyourmom @izang @jesussavedevenme @kazedancer @kitten12113 @lady-phoenix-of-tardis @lilypotter2018 @lunataravler @maskedpainter @ miraculouslydumb @nerd-nowandforever @ola-is-dead @pandacatxd @plushbookworm @plz-excuse-my-inner-ravenclaw @pheonix-biach @raiderofthelostbooks @ramos123 @rowanrouge @rowanyx @ren121 @seesea22 @seraphichana @sashakoi @shypeacekitten @tazer6787 @that-girl-sakea @thecrazyfantrollshasmoved @the-smallest-kittenz @tishwinchesterannabethjackson @t1dwarrior-of-earth @ulmban @with-forward-motion @wonderbat91939 @zoiechance

[sunmoonandeddie]

have you seen baby?

pairing: bucky barnes x reader x natasha romanoff

word count: 3,196

summary: You and your two lovers haven’t gotten to spend much time together.  Also, sex pollen.

warnings: Bad words.  Filthy, filthy smut.  Sex pollen.

a/n:  Thank you so much to @cake-writes for this commission!  I loved writing it and I really hope you enjoy it!

It’s late.  

Well.  Relatively late.  Nearing three in the afternoon, and Natasha hadn’t seen you.  Of course, that barred that morning when she woke up to your pretty face still sleeping beside her.  Unfortunately, Bucky was on a mission, otherwise she’d get to see his equally as pretty face on your other side.  It was disappointing.  There was just something so sweet about waking up to the two loves of her life.

But now, it was almost three, and you hadn’t even emerged from your lab for lunch.

Which is why she headed down two floors to the huge lab that you, Tony, and Bruce shared.  You kind of played as an inbetween for the both of them, wanting to know it all and then some.  It was precious.

But it also meant that you had a bad habit of getting lost in your work and not emerging for hours or sometimes days.  You had been getting better about it, if only because Bucky and Natasha were always on your ass about it.

Which is only because they love you.  So much.  Like.  So so much.

“Have you seen Baby?” Natasha asked Sam, who was wandering through the kitchen after his workout.

He had a protein shake in his hand, sweat dripping from his brow.  “No, can’t say I have.  And you know you can call her by her name when it comes to other people, right?”

She rolled her eyes and gave him a look.  “Her name is Baby.”

“To you.”

“To Bucky and me,” she retorted.  “And besides, she doesn’t even respond to her name when it’s coming from us anymore.”  A small smile crept up on her lips.  “It’s adorable.”  But she was on a mission.  She had a little box that came in with the mail that’s a present just for you.

And sometimes Bucky, depending on how he was feeling.

But Natasha didn’t like being touched.  She liked to give, but never to receive.  Her therapist said it had to do with the various traumas that she’d taken on while growing up in the Red Room.  Her body had never been her own during that time.  She’d been hurt over and over and over again, to the point where someone touching her body in a sexual way sent her into a panic attack.

Bucky was mostly the same way.  He had a hard time with sexual touch, though he’d gotten a lot better about it.

It was just one of those things that Natasha had to deal with.  Not that it was hard.  She loved taking care of you with Bucky’s help.  Their little pillow princess.

You were always the smart girl.  Some could argue that you were smarter than both Bruce Banner and Tony Stark simply because you knew both fields and then some.  You tended to become… obsessed.  You had to know more about everything just for the sake of knowing more.  But with that, your mind was always going a million miles an hour.  Which is why when it came to the bedroom, it was really nice to just be able to let go and not think for a while.  You got to be their dumb little baby girl.  It was always about you when it came to sex.

When it came to who needed cuddles and affection, that was when it was their turn.  You slept in the middle of them, cradled between them like a precious pearl.  You fought off their nightmares for them, their fears.  You made them see that they were more than the weapons they had been crafted into.  You provided relief for each other in different ways.

Before you had come along, Bucky and Natasha’s love had been volatile.  They were missing a piece of the puzzle, even if they hadn’t realized it.

And then their precious little princess had been hired on as a scientist, and their lives were forever changed.  They knew immediately that you were the one for them, their missing piece.

Of course, it had taken a while to get you to understand just what they wanted.  You might be the smartest in the lab, but when it came to relationships…

Which is what brought her to today.  You’d been a little… off lately.  Of course, that could be because her and Bucky had been on back to back missions for the past few months.  There hadn’t been a lot of time for the three of you all together, which was always frustrating.  It was the longest amount of time the three of you hadn’t gotten to all be together since becoming a triad.

And they felt even worse when they both had to leave on missions and leave you all by your lonesome.

Maybe they’d get you a kitten.  You wouldn’t have time for a puppy, but a cat?  You’d love that.  A little lab buddy.  Or maybe they’d get you one of those senior cats with three legs that was deaf in one ear.  Yeah, you’d love that.

But then it would die a lot quicker than a kitten, and they’d have to pick up the pieces because that would destroy you.  But then you’d also be so happy that you got to give the cat a really good few years at the end.

Whatever.  She’d talk to Bucky about it when he got home and they could make a decision.

But the little box.

The elevator down to the lab seemed to take forever, the silence mocking her since Tony absolutely hated elevator music and refused to let it play in the Tower.  But was even more unsettling was the fact that you weren’t in the lab.

“Hey, have you seen Baby?” Natasha asked Tony, who was fiddling with something on his tablet.

“It’s still weird that you call her that to everyone.”

“It’s her name.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Her name is—”

“Baby,” Natasha said, glaring at him.  “Yes, I know.  Have you seen her?”

“You disgust me.”  The man sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as his eyes squeezed shut for a moment.  “I think she went down to the spare testing room.  Something about an unknown vapor.”

An unknown vapor?  You hadn’t mentioned that.  Then again, you’d been kinda quiet lately.

She headed down another few floors, bearing the silence as she went through a mental list of things she needed to get done.  It was your birthday soon.  She needed to make sure all three of you could get off, and she’d plan something really special.  You deserved it.

The testing room you’re in has all floor to ceiling windows for walls, but she can’t see you.

“Strange,” she muttered under her breath.  She headed for the doors, and her eyes widened as she saw you through the glass.

You were lying on the ground, sweat dripping from your brow, with your hand in your pants.  From the… rapid way your hand was moving, there was no mistaking what was happening.

But why the hell were you touching yourself right there where anyone could walk by and see you?!  Not that she didn’t like it.  She loved watching you touch yourself and she often ordered you to when she was in a dominating mood.  It was so much fun watching you edge yourself.

No, it was the whole public thing that was confusing her.

You looked up as she started to push the doors open, her eyes widening.  “N-Natasha, no!” You shouted.

But it was too late.  A sickly sweet substance filled her nose, and seconds later, she felt a strange heat creeping up over her.  What the hell was happening?  And why did her skin feel so warm?

“N-Natasha,” you whimpered, rolling on your side.  Your fingers were still rubbing desperately at your clit, trying to find some kind of release.  “Nattie, it hurts.  It hurts.  M-Make it stop.”

And god damn it.  Her precious lover begging her to make whatever it was stop hurting?  She was gonna figure out a way to make it stop hurting.

She crawled towards her, frowning as she saw a broken test tube on the floor.  “What the hell is this?”  She couldn’t read the label on it, the ink smeared.  Tossing it to the side, she finally made it to you.  “W-What hurts, Baby?  What hurts?”

Your glassy eyes were wild as your hips bucked up in the air, a vein on your forehead popping out.  “F-Fuck me.  Fuck me, Nattie, please,” she begged, whining desperately.  “Oh, my god, I need it.  I need it.  Please.”

“H-Here?  Baby, wha—”

“Natasha, please, I am literally beg… begging you.  Please,” you cried, tears rolling down her cheeks.

Well.  It’s a good thing she brought the box with her.  She ripped it open, pulling out the new harness that she ordered with it.  “Okay.  Okay, angel, but you gotta let me get my strap on, okay?”  She asked sweetly as she stripped down.  She didn’t care who saw.  She had to help her baby girl.

Your response of a weak whimper only made her go faster.

She practically ripped off your clothes, a groan tearing its way out of her throat as she spread your legs.  You were so wet it was obscene, your poor little clit swollen.

“Oh, pretty girl,” she cooed as she ran her fingers through your slick folds, slipping two in with ease.  “You didn’t ask permission to touch yourself, sweetheart…  But I think I can let this time slide…”  With her one free hand, she pulled the new dildo out of its packaging, smirking at the whimper that escaped your lips as you saw it.

It was pretty.  Really pretty.  Eight inches, made of that realistic feeling silicone, and a gorgeous opal color.  Her and Bucky ordered it especially with you in mind, since opals are your favorite.

“N-Natasha, please…”  You grinded against her fingers, your pussy clenching as you tried to get more.

“Oh, good girl…  You look so pretty, Baby.”  She used her one hand to attach the dildo to the harness, her eyes flicking back and forth between the heat between your legs and her fumbling fingers as she finally got it secure.  She ran it through your folds, getting it nice and slicked up.

That’s when the doors opened again, the familiar sound of size twelve boots coming towards them.  “What the hell is that smell and why are you two—”  Bucky broke off as he felt the heat.  “Oh, shit.”

Natasha grinned as she looked over at Bucky.  They were both clearly feeling the heat that the mysterious substance had caused, but not nearly as bad as you were.  “I caught our little baby touching herself without permission… out where anyone could walk by and see her.”

The third member of your triad was already working on undoing his belt, tearing it off so quickly that it ripped a few of his belt loops, leaving little holes in his pants.  “Has our baby been a little naughty?” He asked as he stripped down, kicking off his boots.  He grasped your face with his metal hand, the cool digits a welcome reprieve to the heat that had overwhelmed you.  “Princess, have you been a bad girl?  Huh?”  He lightly slapped your cheek, just enough to get you to answer.  “When I ask a question, I expect an answer, sweetheart.”

You nodded, whining as you nuzzled your head against his cool hand, the angle hurting your neck a little since you were still on your back.  “Yes.  Yes, Bucky.  I’ve been so bad, I’m so sorry…”  You looked up at him with glittering eyes, your cheeks tear stained.  “I need you.  Please.”

His blue eyes were soft as he leaned down, stealing a soft kiss from your swollen lips.  “What’s your safeword, Baby?” He asked, his free hand wrapping around his swollen cock.

“Bracelet.”

“And if you can’t talk?” Natasha probed, still sliding her strap through your folds.

Your hand wrapped around Bucky’s wrist, squeezing twice.

“Good girl,” he said, kissing you once more.  His strong hands flipped you over easily, placing you on your hands and knees.

Almost immediately after, Natasha’s hand came down on your ass, causing you to jerk forward.  “You better suck Bucky’s cock, Baby,” she said as a smirk curled up the edges of her lips.  “If you want me to fuck you, you better put that pretty mouth to good use.”

“But—”

“Did she stutter, angel?” Bucky asked as he grabbed her chin, forcing you to look up at him.  “Tasha gave you an order.  Are you going to be a good girl and listen?”  His flesh thumb ran over your plump bottom lip.  “Don’t you wanna be a good girl for us?  Huh?”

Fuck.  Yeah, you did.  You always wanted to be a good girl for your two lovers.

Matching moans fell from Bucky and Natasha’s mouths as your tongue flicked out to slide up his length, circling around the head.  You always gave absolutely filthy head, your eyes watering as you choked around his length.

As you took him all the way, Natasha slid her strap into your wet heat, all the way to the hilt.  You let out a choked moan, your eyes wide as she started to thrust in and out of you.  Her fingers dug into your hips deliciously, the acrylics she kept at a relatively short length leaving little crescent moon indents.  You loved it.  The pain felt so fucking good.

“We should’ve made you wear your butt plug, Baby.”  Bucky’s jaw clenched as he reached to gather some of your slick on his finger, before circling it around your tight hole.  “Could’ve had you waiting for us to fuck you proper while I was on a mission all week…”

Natasha’s hips slammed against yours as she pressed her lips to Bucky’s.  “We don’t use the diamond one enough considering how much we paid for it.”

You pulled off of Bucky’s cock with a pop, glaring at the two of them.  “Is this the time to be talking about how often we use the butt plug?”

“Did I say you could stop sucking my cock?” Bucky growled as he grabbed your face and started throat-fucking you.  “It’s been too long since we put you in your place, angel.  You’re getting mouthy.”

“She’s always been mouthy.”

Tears rolled down your cheeks as Natasha and Bucky’s thrusts sent waves of pleasure through you.  The heat that had consumed your body was faded, and all you could think about was making your doms feel good.

All the background noise that had been in your mind over the past few weeks was gone, drowned out by the praises coming from your lovers.  All the self-doubt that coursed through your mind was gone when they loved you like this.

You choked around Bucky’s cock as you came suddenly, the release coming over you like a wave.

It only seemed to spur them on more as Natasha fucked you that much harder, Bucky’s fingers scratching soothingly against your scalp as he got closer and closer to the edge.  You could always tell when he was close by the way his thrusts got more and more sloppy.

Natasha’s hand reached down and around to rub your clit, the pretty opal dildo sliding in and out of you with ease.  She wished she had her phone if just so she could record the moans falling from you and Bucky’s mouths.

Hell, she’d make it her fucking ringtone.

It wasn’t long before Bucky came with a shout, spilling down your throat.

He groaned, his head falling back as he felt you licking him clean.  He let you finish before pulling out, getting on his knees and kissing you sweetly.

Your eyes were dazed, a little bit of cum you hadn’t swallowed dribbling out of your mouth.  You looked so damn pretty like that.  Dumb from pleasure.

“You gonna cum again for us, Baby?” He asked sweetly, holding your face in his hands.

A nod, your lips starting to move to form words but not quite getting there.  Adorable.

He watched it coming.  Watched as your breath hitched and your eyes rolled back in your head before you let out a cry.  You blacked out as your second orgasm ripped through you, violently like an earthquake.  A force of nature.

“Seriously?  In the lab?!” Tony demanded, glaring at them from the entrance.  “What the hell happened?!”

Bucky and Natasha were very blasé faire about their own nudity, but they didn’t like anyone else seeing you.  The redhead reached for the little test tube that she’d tossed to the side when she’d first gotten there as he covered you up with his leather jacket, cradling your exhausted body to his chest.  He pressed soft kisses to your forehead as he rocked you back and forth.

“I think it was whatever was in this,” Natasha said as she looked at it curiously, trying to make out what the writing on the label was.  “... Sexus… Pollinis?”

Tony grumbled as he walked over and grabbed the tube, looking it over.  “It’s literally Latin for sex pollen.  Which probably means exactly what we think.”

“Is that what the smell in the air was?” Bucky asked.

Natasha nodded.  “I think most of it spilled on her, which is why she was so affected but we weren’t.”

“Okay.  I’ll… clean all this stuff up,” Tony said.  “Get her out of here and in a bed.  Or a bath.”  He shook his head as he started to call for the robots that mopped the floor.  “Animals.”

You came to in your shared room, curled up between them in your giant tub.  “Wha’ happened?”

“Hey, baby girl,” Bucky cooed, his fingers massaging your sore shoulders.  “How do you feel?”

For some reason, you started crying.  It just came over you.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Natasha said, cupping your face and wiping your tears.  “Baby, what’s going on?  Huh?  Talk to us…”

“I-I’ve just been f-feeling so alone a-and this is the first time w-we’ve all been together in two m-months,” you whimpered in a shattered glass voice, barely able to string together a full sentence through your hiccups.  “A-And you’ve been gone s-so often that all I can think is m-maybe I’m j-just here because you’re both d-dominants and needed a s-s-submissive!”

Bucky and Natasha’s faces both fell and they squeezed you that much closer to them.

“Oh, Baby, no,” Natasha said.  Her heart hurt as she realized that that’s why you’ve been so off lately.  “We love you so much.  So, so much.”

“I think it’s time we stopped going on so many missions anyway, Baby,” Bucky added, his fingers tickling up and down your back.  “I’m tired of not being home with my girls.”

“Really?” You asked softly, looking at him like he’d just told you he’d give you the moon.

“Yeah,” Natasha said, bringing your hand to her lips.  She pressed a kiss to your left ring finger as her eyes met Bucky’s, a knowing look on his face.  Maybe soon there’d be a ring on that finger.  “Really, Baby.”

[heyiwrotesomethings]

A Wild Valentine Appears!

Ririka Momobami x She/Her Reader (Feat. some KiraSaya!)

A/N: I now realize why it takes me months to finish writing things. I wrote this oneshot in a day and although I have read it over several times already, I still feel like it’s incoherent. I’ll still happily post it though because if I only posted things I was completely satisfied with, I’d post nothing lol. Anyway, just wanted to give a little love to Ririka because she deserves it. Hope you’ll like it! Word Count: 2,425

Ririka stared over the sea of students pushing and shoving to get into any of the more contested council member lines. God, she really hated Kirari sometimes.

Today was Valentine’s Day, and all Ririka wanted to do was go home, order a giant, cheesy pizza, and watch anime from the comfort of her own bed and forget this stupid holiday even existed. But no, her dear sister just had to be an insufferable nuisance. Nothing could ever be easy, could it?

Kirari had decided to inform the council that morning in an unplanned meeting, that in order to spare the mail room from total annihilation (and Sayaka’s back), each council member would have to accept their Valentines in person. She had even set up the gymnasium for the occasion. Not herself of course, she made the house pets do it, but you get the idea.

“But president, I already have an idol greeting in place!” Yumemi smiled, though her eye twitched, “I’m too busy to deal with people outside of my fan club who need I remind you, actually pay me for my time.”

“It is a waste of time,” Kaede pushed his glasses up, “A pointless holiday.”

“Well I think it’s a great idea president!” Itsuki proclaimed, leveling a glare at Kaede.

“Free sweets so I’ll happily comply!” Runa grinned.

“Sayaka,” Yumemi called, exasperation seeping out of the cracks in her cheery idol facade, “Surely you don’t want to watch people confessing to the president all afternoon?”

Sayaka’s hands, hidden behind her back, clenched tightly in agreement, yet her polite smile stayed solid. “The president’s will is my will.” She replied, her eyes dark and focused.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure Sayaka will be busy enough dealing with her own little pack of girls! Crazy to believe I know, but she’s actually pretty popular!” Midari sensed the air around the president change and cackled. “I’m cool with it, prez. I’m sure Yuriko’s ego would love all the attention too!” She offered on behalf of the absent council member. Yuriko had some important business with the Traditional Culture Club to take care of before the impromptu meeting was called.

“Majority rules.” Kirari smiled, passing a glance over to Ririka who was silently stewing.

So that’s how Ririka ended up standing in the furthest corner of the gym, watching all her fellow council members’ lines fill up while hers remained painfully desolate. She had never been more thankful for her mask than she was today. However, it was probably because of the mask and her eerie silence that people were afraid to approach her in the first place.

Ririka found entertainment watching Kirari and Sayaka at least. Though those two usually drove her absolutely bonkers, it was kind of funny to watch them take turns discreetly eyeing their ‘competition’ for the other’s affections. It was enough to make Ririka want to scream over the school’s intercom system that they needed to just kiss already and stop wasting everyone’s time, but still funny to see her sister making a mental list of every person who dared get too comfortable with her secretary. Ririka rolled her eyes as she was sure Sayaka was doing the same to the patrons in Kirari’s line. Her sister’s line was much larger than Sayaka’s own, but Ririka knew better than to think Sayaka couldn’t keep up.

“Um, excuse me, vice president?”

Ririka startled, but years of schooling her emotions and physical reactions hid her scare well. She looked away from her sister to stare at the disturbance head on. Ririka was surprised to find a face she recognized. (L/n) (Y/n), she sat next to Ririka’s left in class since their first year of high school. What could she possibly want?

“I’m sorry, I didn’t disrupt your train of thought did I? Here, let me just give you this quick and I’ll be out of your hair,” (Y/n) laughed nervously, her hand rummaging through the school bag over her shoulder, “I knew I should have packed better, sorry, just a second... There!” (Y/n)’s hand finally re-emerged with a rectangular box, striped with red, pink, and white. She held the box out to Ririka with a barely detectable tremor, “I made these chocolates for you. I hope you like them!”

Ririka tilted her head, mouth agape. Was this actually happening right now? Someone was giving her Valentines chocolate? And they were cute and nice? What the hell?

“Oh no, you hate it! I’m so sorry!” (Y/n) looked every bit as horrified as Ririka felt for just standing there and staring like an idiot instead of accepting the chocolates.

Ririka immediately waved her arms and shook her head, swiping the chocolates from her classmate’s hands and pressing the box into her chest protectively. Looking between (Y/n) and the chocolates Ririka knew she had to do something to show her gratitude so, she awkwardly flashed (Y/n) a shaky thumbs up. If Ririka could blush through her mask she was sure it would be bright pink.

“Thank you, vice president! I hope you like them, I worked hard on these- but! But don’t feel obligated or anything!” (Y/n) quickly added.

Ririka looked down at the pretty box in her hands a popped the lid open, a little gasp escaped her lips and came through her voice modulator like a crackle of static. The chocolates were shaped like cats!

“I hope you don’t mind, I noticed you doodle a lot during class and I think you make the cutest little kittens so that’s why I shaped the chocolate like that. I made the mold too, it took a couple tries, but the end result was worth it I think.”

Ririka hadn’t realized (Y/n) had paid attention to her at all, much less that she would be interested in her enough to know what she did during class, or remember and care enough to then turn such observations into an incredibly sweet and thoughtful gift. There was no way she was going to be able to keep her eyes off of (Y/n) during class now... not that she had ever stared longingly at her before! Or chickened out of buying chocolates to put in her classmate’s shoe cubby that morning, not at all! But damnit Ririka really wished she hadn’t been such a coward now!

“I’m glad this worked out. I had been planning to just send them through the mail system like I have in previous years, but then I heard that the student council was only accepting gifts in person this year and I kind of lost my nerve,” (Y/n) rambled on, waving her hands around as she talked.

Ririka couldn’t believe it. (Y/n) had sent her chocolates before? She had never gotten them. They had probably been lost in her sister’s vast piles of confectionary wealth, damn her sister!

“You are always so distant with everyone. I was afraid I was just going to be bothering you, but seeing you standing here all alone... I knew I had to just go for it and put my feelings out there, you know? Ah, I’m talking too much. I should really—“

“The president did not consent to be touched!”

(Y/n) and Ririka whipped their heads around just in time to see Sayaka flip a student twice her size to the ground, tasing him for good measure. Kirari stood by with an amused smirk, her hands rubbing sanitizer into her skin as she watched her secretary obliterate the boy.

The girls who were still waiting in Sayaka’s line started cheering and swooning which quickly made the president’s mood sour and she turned to the girls, offering them an icy stare that shook them all to the bone.

“I’ve grown quite bored of this. Would any of you care for a high stakes gamble? I’m sure we all have something of value to offer.” Kirari spoke, reaching her hand out towards the group.

The girls dropped their gifts and ran away screaming, none dared to accept the president’s wager. Especially not while she looked so menacing albeit elegant, as if she drank human blood and tears from a wine glass while sitting regally upon a throne constructed from the bones of her enemies.

Once the boy on the ground was disturbingly still, Sayaka stood and brushed off her skirt, her dark, calculating eyes scanned over the rest of the line. She zapped her taser twice in warning causing the remaining students to scatter and flee the scene.

“Oh my, Sayaka. Did you need to be so harsh?” Kirari teased, as if she hadn’t just subtly threatened a handful of high schoolers herself. She’d be lying is she said she hadn’t enjoyed the momentary chaos she had created.

“School hours are nearly over president. I was simply killing two birds with one stone.” Sayaka informed, still looking a bit miffed.

“Ah, so they are. Well then, far be it from me to hamper anyone’s holiday plans.” Kirari looked around at the remaining students and made a shooing motion with her hands, clearly bored, “Leave.” The students knew better than to complain, not directly in front of the president at least. (Y/n) moved to follow the crowd but Ririka grasped her by the bicep, keeping (Y/n) glued to her spot. Ririka was not going to let her slip away, not without returning the favor. Once the students were pushing out of the gymnasium doors, Kirari turned back to Sayaka, her eyes glimmering. “Sayaka, accompany me to the student council room. I would love a hot cup of tea. You always prepare it so well.”

“Yes, president!” Sayaka nodded, falling in step behind Kirari as she took a different exit.

“That was, something.” (Y/n) laughed, rubbing the back of her neck with her free hand, “I better get lost now before I overstay my welcome. Um, thank you again, vice president.” (Y/n) moved to pull away but Ririka held on tighter, making her classmate’s skin grow warmer. “Vice president?”

Ririka looked around at who was left loitering in the gymnasium and rolled her eyes. She may not have gotten chocolates for (Y/n), but she was surely going to make up for it before the day was over. Ririka just needed to get away from all these people first. She tugged (Y/n) along to the gym storage room and blushed as Runa laughed and pointed at her. She pulled (Y/n) inside the storage room and closed the door behind them.

“(L/n),” Ririka’s distorted voice crackled to life behind her mask, causing (Y/n) to jump. (Y/n) had never heard her speak before. “Do you like anime?”

“I- yeah I like anime?” (Y/n) blinked, she clearly had no idea where this could possibly be going.

“Do you like pizza?” Ririka persisted, the modulator making her sound much more severe rather than excited.

“Sure, I like pizza vice president.” (Y/n) answered taking a cautious step back as Ririka stepped forward, effectively cornering herself.

“Would you...” Ririka’s hand quivered as she lifted it to her face, (Y/n) tracked the movement, a look of bewildered wariness upon her face as she waited with bated breath for whatever was to come next. Ririka pulled the mask off her face, blushing as (Y/n) grew more shocked, awed, and confused. “Would you like to come to my house to watch anime and eat dinner?!” Ririka squeaked, her face growing hotter after every word that left her mouth.

“But— how? You... we were.. and you were, and then you?” (Y/n) babbled looking between Ririka and the door, weakly pointing between the two. Ririka starred at (Y/n) oddly then smacked her hand over her eyes and laughed feebly at the misunderstanding.

“I’m not Kirari. We’re twins. I’m Momobami Ririka.”

“Twins? Oh,” (Y/n) suddenly looked very relieved, “I thought for sure Igarashi was going to pop out and strangle me with a jump rope or something. Twins, wow! How have I never guessed?”

“Do not tell anyone!” Ririka warned. “No one is supposed to know yet!”

“I won’t tell!” (Y/n) raised her hand and made a gesture of zipping her lips. “Your secret is safe with me, vice president!”

“Well, good.” Ririka replied awkwardly. “So do you want to...?”

“Oh, yeah!” (Y/n) cleared her throat, “Yes, that sounds like fun, thank you for inviting me.”

Ririka smiled, “Excellent.” She fitted her mask back over her face and led (Y/n) out of the storage room by the hand. “Come with me.” the distorted voice commanded.

Ririka dragged (Y/n) down the hall and the feeling was near euphoric. The grin taking over her face was fighting to be as wide as the one covering her mask when (Y/n)’s hand grasped hers just as tightly.

***

“That’s odd...” Sayaka murmured staring down into the courtyard from the student council window.

“What’s odd, Sayaka?” Kirari asked, tone light and playful as she hugged her secretary from behind, resting her chin on Sayaka’s shoulder.

“President!” Sayaka blushed, wiggling in Kirari’s hold. “I just, I didn’t realize the vice president had a girlfriend is all.” Sayaka explained, pointing to the two girls jogging up to an expensive, black car.

“Oh?” Kirari was just as bemused as she was confused, not that she would allow her face to show it. Watching her sister usher a girl she recognized as a classmate of theirs into the back of the car before Ririka followed in after her and closed the door. Soon after, the car pulled away from the curve. “How interesting.” She would have to confront Ririka about this at a later date, but for now she had a secretary to shower with affections. “Sayaka, this chocolate is delectable. Would you like a taste?”

“I think I would. Thank you, president.”

Kirari smirked, removing one of her arms from around Sayaka to pluck another chocolate from the box while Sayaka turned to face her. Sayaka naively held out her hand, then spluttered when Kirari placed the chocolate on her own tongue and pulled Sayaka closer.

***

“Oh! I remember this episode, it’s so good Ririka, you are going to love it!” (Y/n) was practically vibrating in her spot on the couch.

“Really? I’m looking forward to it.” Ririka smiled between bites of pizza.

Hopefully they could make a habit of this. Who knows, maybe she and (Y/n) would actually pass up Kirari and Sayaka in terms of pursuing a romantic relationship at a reasonable pace. Ririka cautiously leaned her shoulder against (Y/n)’s and she received a kind smile that enveloped her more warmly than the snug blanket over her lap.

Best Valentine’s Day ever.

[anime-academix]

I’m Not Invincible

A/N: I’m totally gonna rewrite this because I think this is so bad 😭I lowkey had writers block, so enjoy this huge piece of garbage. ): 

Warnings: slight angst, fluff, minor swearing

Pairings: Aizawa x reader

Requested by: @tonii​ Always happy to provide for the Aizawa supremacy! 🛐

Tags: If you would like to be tagged, just message me and ask to be added to the list :)

It happened because of an argument

In all honesty, you guys don’t really argue often

Aizawa is extremely rational and level headed, so he keeps the two of you both grounded, no matter how angry you are

But then again, when do you do argue, and it doesn’t dissolve, it’s most likely about something serious

Usually when the two of you argue, he’s the type to remain calmer and not lash out

If he does retaliate, he uses sarcasm in his response

Though he’s tired all the time, when he’s pushed past his peaked exhaustion, it’s harder for him to keep his cool

The argument started because after a major injury, he wasn’t following the doctor’s orders AND your demands for him to take it easy and rest so he could fully recover.

After a major battle between a group of villains, he had taken a serious hit which had forced him on bed rest for a whole week.

Though Recovery Girl did the best she could to possibly heal him, he had been instructed to take it easy for a bit. And since the two of you and Aizawa lived together, the doctors and Recovery Girl instructed for you to keep an eye on him as well. You had absolutely no problem taking care of him while he was on bed rest. If anything, you went above and beyond to make sure he was always feeling comfortable and recovering well. Even when he insisted that you didn’t have to waste your time taking care of him, you shut his comment down instantly; even then, you knew he was grateful you were there for him.

It was only 2 days into his recovery, that Aizawa was already moving and working out. You were glad to see him moving well, but it worried you that he was doing too much. You didn’t think too much about it until you found out that on his 3rd day of recovery--the day he was supposed to be resting at home, he was ALREADY back at UA, teaching.

When you woke up this morning, you were panicking when he wasn’t in the bed beside you. You dialed his phone several times, but it went straight to voice mail. It wasn’t until Present Mic called you, that you were informed of your boyfriend’s presence at the school. Not only were you exasperated that he ignored the doctor’s orders, and annoyed that you had to find out from someone else that he was already doing activities, but you were stressed.

You waited on your shared couch as you waited for him to come home. 5:30 PM, your phone clock read…’He should be home by now,’ You thought to yourself. You would be lying if you said you weren’t anxious…

What if something happened? What if a villain attacked and he was the only pro hero around to stop it? What if he collapsed and no one was around to--

A door opening and closing pulled you out of your thoughts, and you were presented with your boyfriend.

“Shouta, what the hell?!”

“Hey to you too.” He muttered.

“Don’t start with me. You were strictly instructed to rest and recover for a week! Not whenever you feel like it!” You snapped, standing up from the couch

“Y/N, please. I’m fine. I’m healing a lot faster, anyway, so it’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?! What if you got hurt again?! What if you were attacked, huh?! You would be forced to fight with no way of leaving that situation because you wouldn’t just stay down and let your body heal!”

“But I wasn’t attacked. And I already told you, I’m fine.”

You had to admit, he did seem like he was already getting better. Though his wounds were still healing and he would wince from time to time when you could tell the painkillers were wearing off, he had been recovering quickly so far.

“That’s not the point. I would prefer you feeling great than just fine, Shouta.”

He rolled his eyes, walking into the bedroom with you trailing behind him. He didn’t waste a second to carefully take off his scarf and jumpsuit--noticing his subtle winces from the movements every now and then. Your heart ached seeing his entire abdomen and arms wrapped in bandages and his back and neck painted with bruises and small cuts.

Aizawa slips on a pair of sweatpants and a dark t-shirt. “See. I’m fine.”

A sigh left your lips as you shook your head. “You were told to stay on bed rest for a week. This wasn’t just some normal injury. You almost died, Shouta! All we asked for you to do was to rest and recover back to full health. And now, I had to find out from Hizashi that you went back to teach?! What if there was a repeat of the fight with the Shie Hassaikai or USJ incident?!”

“But there wasn’t and I made it out of that alive too! This is exactly what you signed up for when you decided to date a pro hero. Getting injured is apart of the job, I’m not going to quit just because you hate seeing me hurt.” 

He walked from out of the bedroom and into the hallway as you followed behind him. Aizawa wasn’t wrong. You knew the risks when you decided to date a pro hero. Injury and even death was apart of the job once a pro hero took an oath to serve and protect civilians. Even when he was injured, it didn’t stop the pang in your heart when you saw the damage his body would take on. Despite his protests, you did everything you could to take care of him. And yes, he did make it out alive from those two incidents, but he still sustained serious injuries. However, this current incident was substantially worse. He was on the brink of death after this battle. 

“You could have died, Shouta! All I ask is for you to rest and let me take care of you, please!” You pleaded.

And you were right. Truthfully, if it hadn’t been for Recovery Girl, he probably wouldn’t have made it to see the next day. 

A low growl escaped his throat. “For the love of God, how many times do I have to tell you that I’m fine?!”

It happened so suddenly. His body turned around as his hair floated up, his eyes glowing a light shade of red.

Your body froze as silence enveloped the two of you. Everything felt like it stopped: time, the blood flowing through your body and even your heartbeat. You would be lying if you said you weren’t scared. His eyes bored into yours as his brows furrowed, knitting together. In the time you had been dating, Aizawa had never used his quirk on you, ever. 

It was the single tear rolling down your cheek that brought you back to your current situation. Slowly, you began to feel your body shake as you stared back at him in disbelief. 

This situation suddenly hit him too as his expression softened, deactivating his quirk. He had scared you. The one person he loved more than anything in the world, the one person he couldn’t live without, the one person he’d travel through hell and back for, the one person he always wanted by his side, was suddenly on the receiving end of his quirk. 

“Y/N...” Aizawa began softly as he took a hesitant step towards you. You shook your head slightly as you took a step back, now allowing the tears flow down your face. He felt his heart clench as you took a step away from him and seeing the tears fall from your eyes. Not only did he activate his quirk against you, but your tears were because of him.

“No..no...what have I done?” He whispered to himself. He was supposed to be the one to protect you, never harm you. 

“I just wanted to help,” You finally said, voice breaking towards the end as you choked out a sob. 

Aizawa wasted no time swiftly moving towards you, relieved when you didn’t back away. As gently as he could, he wrapped his arms around you. “I know, kitten...I know. I’m so sorry. I’m...so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he repeated, his body shaking just slightly.

You melted in his touch as a quiet sob raked through your body, your head resting against his chest. Being careful not to hurt him, you snaked your arms around his abdomen loosely. 

“I’m so sorry, love. I wasn’t thinking and I was just frustrated...” He paused, a soft sigh leaving his lips. “Sometimes I forget that I’m not invincible. So, when I get injured, I force my body to heal faster than it’s even able to. I know that I’m pushing myself too hard and you’re there telling me to take it easy or rest. I know that you’re right, but I just get so aggravated knowing I’m limited right now.” He paused again and kissed the top of your head. “I know that you’re right, but I just get so aggravated knowing I’m so limited right now. But...that doesn’t excuse using my quirk on you.” He added, his voice growing quiet, the scene flashing back in his head.

“God...I’m so sorry...I’m so fucking sorry,” he breathed out, his eyes squeezing shut. Aizawa wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to leave him. That after everything you had done for him, this is how he treated you. For the love of his life to be on the receiving end of his quirk for any reason was something he would never forgive himself for.

“It’s okay, Shouta,” You whispered softly against his chest.

His eyes sprung open, almost convinced that he had misheard you. His question was answered when you shifted to look up at him, face puffy and slightly wet with tears. Another pang hit his heart. He was the reason for your tears. Instinctively, he reached his hand up to wipe the remainder of your tears away with his thumb.

“I forgive you.” You moved to lift your hand up, cupping his face as he leaned into your touch. “I understand, but you have to let me take care of you. I know exactly what I signed up for when we started dating, and I’ve come to terms with that, but you also have to let me do my job to take care of you when you’re hurt. As long as I can help it, I’m not to lose you--not to a villain and especially not to an injury. So you’re going to be resting, here at home, for the rest of your recovery time, got it?”

He nodded as a small smile creeped onto his lips, shifting slightly to kiss the palm of your hand. Aizawa lifted up his hand to hold onto yours as he leaned down, pressing his lips softly against yours. Though it was gentle, it was passionate; and you could feel that it was a reminder that he loved and appreciated you. You couldn’t help the smile that formed on your lips during the kiss. 

“I love you,” he muttered against your lips.

“I love you too, Shouta,” you replied softly.

After a brief moment, you pulled away. “Now that you understand, go lay your ass down in the bedroom.” You instructed him. 

He smirked at you before pressing another kiss to your lips, this time a bit more heated. “Fine,” he muttered, pulling away just slightly. “But you’re coming with me,” he added before pressing his lips against yours once more.

[starryeyes2000]

The Road Back: Chapter 8

I Need Time

Chapter 7 | Chapter 9 | Beginning of the Story

Status: In Progress

Pairings: Christopher Pike x Fem!OC

Rating: Mature

Word Length: 2.2k

Summary: Once the physical injuries from Talos healed, Chris moved on. Then he met someone special but each time the moment was right to become lovers he pulled back, unwilling to trust himself. Unsure if the attraction and his feelings were real. Then he realized or rather admitted the Talos incident was more than kidnapping, imprisonment, and mind-control. It was a violation of the deepest and most intimate kind. And that perhaps there was no way back.

ooooo

Right on schedule, Phil entered the ready room the following morning. Today he carried two thermoses and set one in front of Pike. “From my stash of real Tanzanian peaberry beans. I heard you had a late night on the bridge.” At Chris’ raised eyebrow he added, “Don’t worry, Chef brewed it. I know when to leave things in the hands of the master.” Phil took a chair on the opposite side of the desk comfortably slouching into it.

Leaning back in his chair, Chris sipped the fragrant brew, closing his eyes in appreciation. Coffee was one of his few indulgences. He tipped his thermos at the CMO in appreciation then explained, “Getting close enough to analyze the asteroid field in our path without being drawn into it was painstakingly intricate. Number One and Amin had the worst of it.”

“Any conclusions?”

“It’s dense, massive, and unusual. So far, the probes we’ve launched failed to return any data. Lucero’s science teams and Louvier’s engineers agree we should go around it. They estimate that will take three weeks at a minimum. We’ll spend a few more days gathering information in order to determine how wide a berth is needed for safety while remaining close enough to map it.”

“Wish you’d opted for the mail runs between Earth, Vulcan, and Andoria rather than deep space exploration?” Phil queried his eyes dancing with merriment.

“Not a chance,” Chris replied with a slight smile. “In addition to a plethora of asteroids, dwarf planets with orbiting moons, comets and other ice bodies, this field has a number of mysterious properties. And may be worth outfitting a specialized ship to explore it internally. Which starts with us sorting out if that is possible. Spock … well I’ve heard him utter fascinating more times in the past forty-eight hours than during the prior three months. When I checked in with the bridge this morning, he was still in the science lab.”

“It is amusing seeing Spock behaving like a child on Christmas morning whom Santa richly favored.”

“Or a kitten who has jumped into a box full of toy mice and crackly balls,” Chris added.

“What, no horse metaphor? Should I haul you to Sickbay for an exam?” Phil teased.

Chris rolled his eyes.

“So how are things with you and Aalin?”

“That was subtle,” Chris noted with a hint of sarcasm as he began sorting through reports vying for his attention.

“No reason to beat around the bush,” Phil countered. He peered at his friend. “Or is there? You know, playing with your PADDs isn’t going to disappear me in a puff of smoke.”

Chris mumbled something undecipherable.

“What was that?”

Chris mumbled again while burying his attention in a maintenance request.

“Use your big boy voice,” Phil prompted.

“We haven’t seen one another nor spoken. Other than when I was looking for Spock a couple of days ago,” Chris repeated looking and sounding sheepish.

The doctor abruptly sat up and moved to the edge of the chair. “You kissed the girl … you were close to … you know what with the girl … and, to use an antiquated idiom, you haven’t called the girl since then? Other than to find your Vulcan? Are you a moron? I hope so because otherwise I’d have to conclude you are totally lacking in any social graces.” A pause. “If you were five, I’d send you to your room to contemplate the error of your ways,” he finished in a huff.

With a sigh Chris admitted, “Age wouldn’t matter to my father, he’d do the same today. A lot is going on … has need my attention … I’ve …”

Phil leaned forward. “If you want a relationship with this woman, she can’t always be prioritized after the crew, the mission, the ship. You wanted to spare her from gossip. Don’t you think the crew will notice if you purposefully avoid her?”

“You’re right.”

“What?” Phil prompted.

“You heard me,” Chris said firmly.

“Yeah, but that phrase is so seldom uttered to me by this crew, particularly the senior officers, and even less so by one senior officer who is in this room but shall remain nameless. I decided to luxuriate in the moment.”

“All of your points are … spot on,” Chris conceded. “This is not an excuse, but I’ve been waiting for the right time, until I have more than a few minutes in the wee hours of the night or at the start of her shift. I don’t want our conversation to be rushed.”

Phil settled back in his chair. “Alright then. So you’ve abandoned your earlier plan to break it off?”

“No.”

ooooo

On this third day after that night, as Aalin had begun referring to her and Chris’ interrupted liaison, another day slowly passing without speaking with him, her earlier benign uncertainties morphed into a whispered doubt. As the day continued the doubt buzzed in her mind with increasing frequency, retreated briefly when swatted, and then resumed. Logic argued with emotion. Emotion dredged up previous hurts, experiences best left in the past. By the end of her shift she was tense and arguing with herself.

Tonight, needing to be alone, she was grateful to have her own quarters, a rare perk for a lieutenant with no seniority. Every inch on crowded deep space vessels was optimized leaving no permanent work area for the ship’s linguist. At times, the information she translated was classified demanding privacy rendering quarters her lab. Though given a choice, most days Aalin would pick the roommate over the perk, thinking it would have been a nice way build a friendship and integrate into the crew. Her roommates from college had remained best friends.

Describing her path into Starfleet as winding and unexpected would be an understatement. As a state department interpreter she accompanied a delegation of Federation Ambassadors on a tour of the Gileseian refugee camps and stayed behind as a teacher. That led to the Varian mission then a life on Enterprise. Because of the nature of that path Aalin had few personal items with her, only things she always carried when traveling – a frequently reread book, a portable music player loaded with a couple of favorites, a shell bracelet made by and gifted from a nephew – and the remembrances from the orphans on Noohra. This left her quarters standard issue and not yet feeling like home.

Stressed and edgy, she sank into the armchair and played a round of ‘what I miss most from civilian life.’ Lolling in a long hot silky bubble bath surrounded by candlelight was currently at the top of the list. Bathtubs were not standard issue in junior officers’ quarters. I wonder if that perk is available to the senior officers.

Also, freshly baked bread. A night out on the town with friends. Real pizza. Freshly fallen snow. Cupcakes from … Chris would tease me about the outsized place of food in this list …

Thinking of him cascaded her mood lower. What’s going on? Maybe he regrets … what if he’s realized he’s not attracted to me after all …

Or perhaps he thinks I am pushing him away, that I don’t want him. I’ve tried to be mindful of his responsibilities and not bother him, not ask for too much, but is my passive action sending the wrong message? Is waiting for him to come to me fair? After all, yes, he hasn’t reached out to me; but I’ve not reached out to him either. Is he staying away in order to give me an easy out? Are both of our good intentions creating a misunderstanding? She resolved to talk to Chris tonight.

Aalin glanced her watch. It read 4:00pm. No, 16:00, will I ever get used to a twenty-four-hour clock? It’s too early, he’s likely still working. Wait until the delta shift is half-way through. Tugging off her uniform boots and shedding the jacket, she placed wireless buds in her ears, called up a favorite on the portable music player, cranked up the volume, and indulged in her second favorite way to destress.

ooooo

Chris drummed his fingers on the wall next to the door of Aalin’s quarters while waiting for her to answer the chime. Having ordered all who spent the past two days focused on the unusual asteroid field to stand down until morning, he followed his own instructions. 16:50, she’s off-duty, not in the mess halls, no one has seen her in the past few hours …

Impatiently he pressed the chime button three additional times, because once is never enough.

Where is she?

What if …

Chris jabbed in his command override negating the lock and rushed inside.

Where he found Aalin standing in the middle of the room, back to the door, body swaying to what he assumed was music heard only in her head, arms gesturing. Left hand palm up, fingers curled inward then straightening, the motions repeated once, twice, three times in rapid succession as if encouraging someone. Right hand, palm facing the ground pushing downward four times, as if quieting. She nodded then her right armed moved to the center of her chest, from the movements of its elbow he discerned she was tracing a cross in midair, down, right, left, up. This continued for a several minutes. Or so Chris assumed. Mesmerized, he lost track of time; standing motionless, as if hypnotized, savoring the moment.

Closed hands raised, her fingers opened with a punch. Her arms emphatically sliced through the air; her head leaned back face turned to the ceiling. Arms thrust up. Chris expected trumpets to sound as if heralding an important announcement. He cleared his throat intending to capture her attention without startling. Aalin pulled out an earbud and turned in his direction. Her face flushed.

“Captain … Chris …”

“You didn’t answer the chime … I was concerned …”

She smiled. “It’s OK. I needed … to relax. Some beings sing in the shower, some meditate, I air conduct an orchestra.”

“At home I’d go for a long horseback ride. Here I have to settle for reciting equine facts which bores my crew,” Chris replied with a grin. He pointed to the earbuds in her hands. “Why not play something from the ship’s library? You know, so you can hear the door chime or public address system?”

“Oh. This particular performance of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony isn’t loaded into Enterprise’s computer, it’s several hundred years old. And my favorite.”

“You can tell the difference between performances of the same song?” Chris asked his tone of voice a combination of amazed, puzzled, and disbelieving.

“Symphony not song,” Aalin replied. “And yes. Can you tell the difference between how the ship feels traveling at warp six versus warp seven?”

“Of course.”

“Then I rest my case.” She smiled again and shook her head before explaining, “When you grow up in a family of lawyers and doctors most discourses at home turn into presenting a case.”

Aalin moved closer to Chris. He stepped back. She halted and asked, “Would you like to sit?” He nodded and pulled out a chair from the small table. She took the armchair now opposite of him. For several minutes there was no sound in the room, just awkward silence. Simultaneously they said, “I should have …”

“Please, me first,” Chris insisted. “I’m sorry. We ought to have talked before now and that’s my fault.”

“No. We both shied away. In the moment I though my reasons were good, were kind. And I’m sure you did as well.”

“Yes … but …”

“No buts. Let’s dispense with the unnecessary apologies and move on,” Aalin replied reaching for Chris’ hand.

He started to reciprocate then pulled back, resting the hand on a knee, fingers unconsciously flexing.

Aalin placed her hands in her lap and searched his face. Then in a soft voice she said, “You want to tell me something, something you believe will hurt.”

Damn, she reads me too well, Chris thought. He nodded.

“Go on.”

Her shoulders straightened. The movement was almost imperceptible, but Chris was learning her body language. She’s summoning her poise, her interpreter’s persona, the one she believes lets her melt into the background, the one meant to keep others from seeing she’s vulnerable.

He began haltingly, “I … us … I think we should pull back. Slow down.”

She glanced down and to the side, carefully planning her response. Looking back to him she said, “You once told me the stability of a crew flows from its commanding officer.” Aalin placed a hand on his arm; this time Chris didn’t pull away. She continued, “And that you don’t indulge in casual physical relationships on board the ship because of this responsibility. You’ve convinced yourself looking for a commitment before what is a more typical getting to know one another period is too big of an ask. But it’s not. Not with you.”

Aalin paused and smiled. “I want to give you that upfront security with my promise to try and work through our problems even when they seem insurmountable rather than simply moving on.

“But we’ve never …”

“That’s immaterial.”

Chris closed his eyes briefly. When they opened Aalin noticed their haunted look. He held her gaze and said in a sad whisper, “I’m unsure about us together. I realized that these past couple of days.”

“Oh.”

“I need time. Time to work through my doubts.” He now understood why the cliché ‘it’s not you but me’ was often uttered in these situations yet hated and never believed. It was truth, but it never comforted.

“I see.”

Chris’ inner voice insisted, Take her in your arms, make love to her; that’s real. His intellect shouted back, No! I have to be sure.

Instead he asked, “Will you grant me that?”

“Yes. Of course.”

ooooo

At 17:00, Team Christopher’s second meeting came to order.

Chapter 7 | Chapter 9 | Beginning of the Story

Story Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist

[goldemas1244]

Heyyyy I have a question :3

Do you have any headcanon/s for these character : Scraptrap, Scrap Baby, Lady Dimistrecu, the three daughter of Lady D, Heisenberg and/or Molten Freddy ? :3

You don't have to do all the proposition, you can choose what character you want to do :3

Have a good day/evening and stay safe ! :3

*Cracks knuckles* \(^v^)/

You already know I'm doing all of them! Thank you for the ask! Headcanons under the cut!

FNaF6

Scraptrap

He loves rice and would do anything to get his paws on it. Fortunately, the pizzeria is quite close to a Chinese restaurant so rice is easy to get.

He orders a rice-based menu at least three times a week, so the owners aren't at all that surprised to see a tuxedo-clad zombie-rabbit come in and ask for their signature fried rice with buttered lobster on the side.

Since he like to dine-in there, he usually asks Michael to give him a bath in exchange for pizzeria improvements. Michael usually shrugs and gives him a well-deserved bubble bath and his tuxedo.

He likes it when Michael gives him head pats and rubs. It makes him feel loved and appreciated.

He has a pet pigeon named Fernando Buschmann. It's German and likes to listen to the violin.

He likes ASMR and memes. ASMR makes him go feral with murderous intent while memes make him question the modern generation.

He has social media accounts, all named "Willton-Moldover". He usually posts cosplays and furry art on them and has 93 followers on his Reddit profile, 1.5 million followers on his Instagram, 550 followers on his Tumblr, 35 on his Snapchat, and 3.95 million on his TikTok.

He also has a YouTube channel with 10.784 million subscribers called "Willton-Gameover". He plays videogames one-handed and roasts popular YouTubers and famous people. He would never roast Keanu Reeves though, because Keanu Reeves is precious bean.

Due to his popularity he gets a lot of hate mail and private pics. He doesn't like them at all so he blackmails the people who post them. And if the media and police are involved? Well, he has a strong fanbase that's not going down as well as a good alibi so that works out well for him.

Yes, his fanbase also knows of the Fazbear Murders, and he admits to it but frankly, he's shown them the approving ghost kids (who've bonded and gamed with him) so that's no big deal. Only Cassidy hates him, but it's usually constipated anger.

He's bisexual and has an ENORMOUS crush on one of his favourite game characters, Karl Heisenberg. Something about that man reminds him of himself and Henry, although he's not sure what. Still, don't let that distract you from the fact that he owns a nude Karl Heisenberg body pillow, CAPCOM official.

Scrap Baby

Her favourite Monster High doll is Draculaura. She doesn't understand how pink goes well with black but oh boy, pink goes so well with black.

She knows how to skateboard like a pro. Despite her weight, her trusty skateboard still stands and, if she falls, she's always got her skates to spare. She likes to impress the boys at the skatepark with her ability to perform even the most difficult of moves with ease.

She's subscribed to fifteen different tabloid subscriptions. She likes to read them and criticize the stupidity of the human race, like her father. Hey, it's hereditary.

The lights in her boobies glow in the dark. They also glow whenever she gets tired.

She likes reading furniture and gardening catalogues. She's judgy of the prices though and usually becomes a full-on critic with Lefty listening.

She owns a crab named Mr. Tootie. No I will not elaborate on the name. I'll only tell you that it's taken a liking to kazoos and party favours.

She's listed as the No. 1 Best Fan of her father's social media accounts. Michael's in nineteenth place but don't worry, he's as emotionless as a mushroom.

She likes to make origami lotuses. She's such a pro at it that she's even got a mini-stall at the pizzeria: 1 lotus for 50 cents. It's a lucrative business, and it's still growing. Oh, and she switches to other origami works of art every week such as origami guns and origami nine-tailed foxes.

She's the Restaurant Rescue manager. Usually she saves kids from trouble. For this reason, yes, she's commonly seen in the pizzeria itself. Kids love her though the claw worries the more irksome parents.

She's a professional Karen dealer. Karen comes to see the manager? She's hypnotically talented in weaving her words through the toughest of craniums so don't be surprised if a Karen walks out with a new viewpoint of life.

She performs on stage on the occasion, which usually gets her a lot of fan love. She cherishes everything good they give but ignores the problematic everythings. Problematic stuff? Oh, she's good friends with the police chief.

Molten Freddy

He loves noodles. Give him a bowl of ramen and he'll shut up for the entire night. Enter him in a noodle-eating competition and his high metabolism rate means absolutely non-stop spaghetti.

He misses Bon-Bon very much. To the point where he's even tried to make a scrap version of him. Sadly, it doesn't work. He cried that day.

He dies inside whenever he finds out there's a spaghetti shortage in Utah. Poor Molten.

He's a bit wonky, but if he tries to play with you or get into your personal space, don't get mad at him! He's just lonely and wants someone to talk to and play with.

He likes to play Exploding Kittens. It's the only card game he's good at. It's also the only card game he owns.

He sees Helpy as a little brother and boops his nose on a daily basis. He also likes to reenact The Lion King with him (It's the ciiiiiircle of liiiiiife~). Hopefully Helpy doesn't mind.

He knows a lot of jokes in a lot of languages. So German-speaking Molten Freddy wouldn't be too far away from expectation. His favourite jokes are in French though; the wordplay is just immaculate.

He's good in French, English, German, Russian, and Malay. He's currently learning Japanese because he's a mega weeb.

His favourite cartoon is Charlie and Lola. He just likes to see the sibling shenanigans as it somehow reminds him of the good old days.

His favourite shows would be prankster shows. He especially loves the ones that give him new and creative ideas. He doesn't like the scary ones though. They make him feel unsafe and give him anxiety.

Surprisingly, he has a distinct taste for opera. He can modulate the remnants of his voice box to perfectly sing I Am The Very Model Of A Modern Major-General. This both pisses off and impresses Henry to an extent.

Resident Evil 8

Lady Dimitrescu

She might act like the opposite but she really loves Heisenberg as her little brother. His determination, strength, speed, dexterity, and workaholic nature impresses her, who can't even fit through a doorway. She sometimes wishes she's as short as him too.

She's an avid collector of glass, porcelain, and anything fragile. It's a good reason to always be careful where you tread in her lair. She'll make you swallow every last shard if you don't.

She's an avid romance fanatic and is very loving towards the romance novels she owns. All those books you see in the in-game library? They're her collection of lesbian romances that she's collected over the past decades.

She doesn't like hats and prefers to stick to the one she wears in-game. She DOES have a collection of hats though. Last anyone counted, there were over fifty, one or two for each decade she's lived through.

She files her nails on a constant basis and owns an ornately decorated nail-clipper. Hygeine is of the utmost importance. She doesn't want to be compared to that filthy Heisenberg.

Despite her size and carefulness she keeps losing her stuff. Over the course of a week she could misplace three wine glasses, two reading glasses, and fifteen bottles of wine.

She's an expert at dodgeball and golf and even owns a lifetime access to the most prolific Country Club in Romania. With permission from Mother Miranda she goes there every year for the yearly party. It's one of the times she gets to see modernity (and Ed Sheeran) at its finest.

She loves bands from the 1920s and 1940s. However, she gets bored of them occasionally and switches them to something more modern, like Ed Sheeran. Seriously though, what is up with mums and Ed?

She's into executions and torture methods. So it's no surprise that she's a HUGE fan of Horrible Histories; even if she can't watch the show, she'll binge-read the books over and over again. She's even had the chance to encounter (and receive an autograph from) Terry Deary. They have sworn a bond not to tell anybody about this.

She loves exotic animals like anacondas and jaguars. She may or may not have owned a 10ft long Saltwater Crocodile (which was also about 5ft wide).

She's an incredible physicist and mathematician. She's also created many original formulae but unsurprisingly, she doesn't tell anyone about them, for fear that either more people may know of her, or that she may be wrong.

Dimitrescu Babes

They can devour an entire human being in mere seconds as flies. It's sort of like the scarab beetles in The Mummy movies. However, unlike the beetles, they are able to strip the bones as well. They leave nothing behind.

They all know how to play the piano with varying levels of success. Daniela can already play professionally while Bela is still stuck on Grade 5.

They love to listen to their mother when she tells them stories. Gotta hand it to 'em, when you're a fly, you know how to enjoy life in its most simple of moments.

They all love being around the hunky Soldats of Uncle Karl. Fortunately, they don't know of the rebellious plan to conquer Miranda.

Bela is bisexual, Cassandra is asexual and pansexual, and Daniela is demisexual.

It gets hard when you're a fly during the summer. If it's not the lizards, spiders, and other predators, it's the heat. Because of this, despite the material waste, they have invented the world's first blood-powered air conditioner.

The three girls have never ever ever touched a stove or oven in their life. They HAVE touched the hot end of an iron though. A good reason to not touch a bloody oven. Alcina has though, but doesn't tell them that.

They love puppies! Uncle Karl brought them a baby labrador. For the rest of the week Alcina had lost quite a bit of favour from them. Not that they minded of course. IT'S A PUPPY.

They don't like snow one bit. Not just because it's cold, but because it's too white. Too bright. Too shiny. They just can't focus on their prey!

They like to go over to Auntie Donna to play with Angie. Well, you know what they say, crazies attract the crazies, and the crazy has attracted the crazies.

They also like to go to Uncle Moreau's because he's the only one in the village with a PS4. Usually they'd spend about three-quarters of a day playing his games and eating his cheese.

Karl Heisenberg

He owns a dark blue armchair named Junkyard. Despite the name, he loves it dearly because it was a gift from Alcina for his twenty-first birthday. It became part of his final transformation too. Right under the hat.

He's a little blind in the right eye, much to his annoyance. It was a minor accident with Sturm; another reason for him to hate the uncontrollable wretch. He'll never live that day down.

Somehow, he sees better in the dark, which is why he wears such tinted glasses. He also wears them to hide his expressions, since, more often than not, he tends to end up wearing his heart on his sleeve, and his emotions in his eyes.

He's under a lot of pressure so it's no surprise that he breaks down in his factory when he knows he's alone. And by break down I mean crumple into an exhausted heap on the floor. Not even his Soldat Jet squad can wake him up until he's had a reasonable eight hours of rest.

He bathes once a day, every evening, but only three times a week. Perfume, tobacco, and cologne keep care of the rest.

He's the only Lord with a daily contact with the outside world due to his electrical abilities. Don't tell Miranda, but he can electrically CONNECT TO GOOGLE AND THE ENTIRE INTERNET IN GENERAL. He likes to play funny YouTube cat videos in his head when Miranda's having a boring meeting. It's also how he finds out that Chris is a boulder-punching asshole.

He does stimming! He likes to tap his fingers on his desk and the metal rails in his factory. He also buys stim toys from the Duke and keeps them in a well-kept box. His favourite is a non-ripping squishable toy duck. He also sings to chill out.

He's absolutely in the Five Nights at Freddy's franchise, and may have once believed in the pizzeria's existence. Come on, he's a mutated Overlord with magical magnet powers. Children souls stuck inside animatronics isn't too far-fetched of an idea. His favourite characters are the Funtimes and the Scraps, mainly because of the blueprint complexity. He HAS tried to replicate the animatronics in his spare time, but he's usually too busy with his Soldats so the project gets scrapped. He loves The Living Tombstone's songs and remixes though.

He doesn't like William Afton at all (though he marvels at his survivability). William's nature and habits remind him of Mother Miranda. He DOES however enjoy Michael Afton and often thinks how it would be absolutely amazing to have that resilient being in his Soldat army.

He's scared of what lurks below the watery depths and fire. Ironic because his brother is a literal fish and he works in one of the most hazardous fire-conducting environments. He's also scared of heights, though he doesn't get airsick.

He once died due to a killing electric shock whilst working on Sturm. It's the only time he's felt that sort of pulsing agony and also the first time he's had the confirmation that yes, Hell is real and yes, he'll end up in quite a dark pit in it. Or it could've been an electric dream, who knows? Anyways his soul apparently ran towards the opposite direction of the flames and he woke up alive after the passing of FIVE ENTIRE WEEKS. Oh boy did Alcina get worried when she couldn't find him.

Thank you for the ask! I hope you enjoy!

[arianajbb]

FIC RECS - 2

💕 stay by @you-are-my-sanctuary

A road trip to Arizona goes wrong when you catch the attention of a familiar looking dark haired man with steely blue eyes.

.

💕 Tell Him, Not Me by @zsiopao

here y/n l/n lands a role in a new television series that will put her relationship to the test.

.

💕Stalker by @you-are-my-sanctuary

In which Bucky has a crush on the new PR manager and is being an adorable stalker.

.

💕 What Could’ve Been by @you-are-my-sanctuary

Steve stays in the past when returning the stones, leaving you behind and erasing everything you two were to each other. Decades pass and he wonders if he made the right decision. Especially since the memories of you still lingers in his mind years after.

.

💕  Let Your Spirit Fly by @starlightcrystalline

At the end of a long week, all you want is to get home. Fate has other ideas.

.

💕 painted with bruises by @harryspet

In which Bucky kidnaps you in order to get close to his enemy, Steve, but realizes that Steve isn’t the hero he used to be.

.

💕 Wolf, Partner, Gloves... by @revengingbarnes

HYDRA’s words make Bucky go into Winter Soldier mode. Then he meets you, and you make for him words that will bring him back to normal.

.

💕 Sleeping With A Friend by @wkemeup

You wake up in Bucky’s bed after a night you’re certain will only break your heart.

.

💕 An Unpredictable Reunion by @head-always-up-in-a-dreamworld

.

💕 American Boy by @quarantined-with-bucky

Request: So basically buckyxreader where she is a super successful businesswomen and awfully confident but when she’s with bucky she feels insecure as many women want him and she’s insecure of nat. Based on “American Boy” by little mix where bucky is her american boy and the other girl in the song is nat. So like angst with a happy ending (maybe smut if you’re comfortable idk idk).

.

💕 Uptown Girl by @brooklyns-boys

You’re a spoiled, shallow party girl who enjoys pushing any button you can find. When your parents put their foot down, giving you the choice between marrying a suitor of their choosing, or being cut off from your money, you’ll have to decide between luxury and the only person who’s ever given a damn about you.

.

💕 pictures of girls by @subtlebucky

you’re prepared for a fun-filled weekend with a friend you haven’t seen in a while. instead, you get a weekend with the guy who sort of rejected you and a camera. what could go wrong?

. 

💕 don’t forget to sing by @sunmoonandbucky

You meet someone new in the most unlikely of ways during the quarantine in New York City.  An alley is six feet apart, right?

.

💕 bloody by @buckycuddlebuddy

he looked feral; his eyes black, face contorted in something devilish, lips blood red and shiny and the smirk on his face was promising more than he already had given.

.

💕 Home by @softlybarnes

Bucky comes home from his second tour overseas, after a long time away from the reader.

.

💕 Kiss Me Better by @blissfullylostinarabbithole

Bucky has your heart, but he seems to despise you. Loki comes up with a plan to make him realize just what he’s missing.

.

💕 x by @blissfullylostinarabbithole

Bucky receiving his first piece of fan-mail.

.

💕 My Roommate’s Boyfriend by @angstysebfan

Your roommate’s boyfriend and you do not get along. You don’t even know why anymore. When your roommate has to move unexpectedly across the country, you both begrudgingly drive her car to her new home. Adventure, angst, and secrets come alive.

.

💕 life with tiny and beefy by @wiensrsoldier

.

💕 Safe Place To Land by @sunlightdances

You and Bucky are both standing up for Steve and Peggy’s wedding. Checking in at the hotel for the weekend, you’re horrified to realize there’s been a problem. A big problem.

.

💕 A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes by @green-eyeddragonfanfiction

Female!Reader is an Omega. Alphas and Omegas are rare, and Reader’s been able to avoid alphas through sheer force of will and luck in equal parts.

.

💕 we’re up all night to get lucky by  @nsfwsebbie

Your soldier comes home after his prevailing victory.

. 

💕 Jealousy Looks Good On You by @tinymalscoffee

You go to your favorite coffee shop after your date from the morning before never shows up.

.

💕 x by @sinner-as-saint

uni!seb having a thing for boobies.

.

💕 Everything by @mariessecretfantasies

.

💕 Stardust And Starfish by @i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend

“Hey we kissed once in kindergarten but I haven’t seen you since and I couldn’t remember why you were so familiar.”

.

💕 The Flaw Of Belief by @winterdaybreak

Y/N and Bucky fight over who can be more spiteful, who hates who more. Neither really mean it, but Bucky might just win.

.

💕 dear... whoever by @whistlingwillows

a mandated series of long and short diary entries from the new head of R&D for Stark Industries.

.

💕 starring role by @baezen

in which Hollywood’s former hottest movie star faces his biggest challenge yet – proving that he’s still worth the starring role

.

💕 Mr. and Mrs. Barnes by @cherrypickertheory

You and your husband, Bucky, live a normal life in the suburbs of Washington, D.C. Or you did, that is, until you both realize that the other is a spy.

.

💕 kitten by @buckycuddlebuddy

“you know,” bucky started, voice low and raspy. “i think i have spoiled you too much lately.”

.

💕 Summer Days by @sleepypanda27

You meet a handsome stranger at the beach.

.

💕 Power Over Me by @sinner-as-saint

CEO James Buchanan Barnes is a dominant. And he’s spent the last 5 years searching for his perfect submissive. Then one night, he finds you. He thinks everything will fall perfectly into place now; but he thought wrong. Turns out your unfortunate past which still haunts you to this day, and some of his enemies are, well, connected. Things go wrong. And your bond with your dom is tested in many ways…

.

💕 Bucky & the Beast by @thejamesoldier

.

💕 House Pride by @delusionalwriterr

After encountering Bucky during a Quidditch game, both of you grow attached to each other. But is the attraction enough to overcome the disapproval of your brother, Tony, and the messy past between your families?

.

💕 Meet Me In The Hallway by @yikeswtfmate

Y/N and Bucky have hated each other since they were children and now they’re forced to live together, whether they like it or not.

.

💕 Postcards by @sebbytrash

Takes place after Civil War. Bucky is your best friend but of course you’re in love with him. He goes off to travel the world and rediscover himself, sending you Postcards along the way, whilst you struggle with your feelings.

.

💕 x by @moteldwelling

(this isn’t a fic but it’s amazing omg)

.

💕 Helpless by @prongsies

Sirius loved you. Loved you enough to let you go. Loved you enough to selflessly step back, allowing you to love someone he knows could give you the love you deserved - even if it hurts.

.

💕 What Is, And What Should Never Be by @whoisbxcky

You wake up one morning to find yourself in an alternate reality, in which the Avengers never came to be, and your friends are living perfect civilian lives. However, things are not all they appear to be, and you find yourself facing the worst fear you never knew you had.

.

💕 Impaled by @revengingbarnes

You’ve been pining after Bucky for months. A compromising situation during a mission brings you a lot closer to him than you expected.

.

💕 Helpless For You by @sgtjbuccky

A blind date has lead you and Bucky to the fourth date. Each one proving that you’ve got it bad more than prior and it doesn’t quite matter what will happen - you will keep on falling for that handsome devil and you don’t even mind.

. 

💕 Flowers by @bucky-the-thigh-slayer

Love can take a while, but the right love is always worth time, and some old fashioned gestures.

.

💕 The (not naked) pin-up calendar by @bitsandbobsandstuff

When you ask for a favor, Bucky (very) grudgingly agrees. What can you do to thank him? Return the favor, of course.

.

💕 Rogue Angel by @harryspet

Bucky tasks himself with deprogramming you, a former hydra soldier. Will he be able to show he cares for you as his Daddy or will your training stop you from seeing the truth.

.

💕 Saving The Day by @jbbmoved

On your way back home, you are being followed by a couple of creeps. When your eyes fall on the most impressive and handsome Avengers, you don’t think twice and find yourself a fake boyfriend and savior.

.

💕 Hidden Lagoons and Seashells by @after-avenging-hours

.

💕 my heart, my angel by @paintedface

valentine’s day candy grams basically show how popular you are in the school, so you expect to get none, however, one, extremely sweet one, turns up on your desk. except you have no clue who it’s from.

.

💕 Like Silver Glass by @thejamesoldier

Out of all the things you have seen so far in your life – a colorful plethora of alien species, artificial intelligence, an imaginative array of mutants and their abilities, cyborgs, superhumans, assassins, geniuses, etc. – merpeople fell actually pretty low on your ‘Shocking Things That Exist’ list.

.

💕 Holiday Heist by @avengerofyourheart

When the art gallery you manage is robbed on Christmas Eve, you suspect the handsome stranger who flirted with you earlier in the day, but instead of involving the authorities, you take matters into your own hands with surprising consequences.

[thenextchapter22]

Mail Order... Kitten Girl

Part 1!! The Present!

Description: Satan accidentally orders a special type of 'cat' online after having a few too many drinks...

Tags: Past Abuse, Past Non/Con, Slavery, Pet Play, Cat Hybrids, Fluff, Comfort, Sexual Relations

Pairing(s): Reader/Everyone (but Luke)

Word Count: 252 words

Link to my AO3: Click Here

Authors Note: So this is my new story with a cat hybrid reader. I will have fluffy times, and sexy times, so reblog, comment, like, and please read this short little ‘teaser’ for now but I will post the next part in a few days ~ :))

+++++ MINORS DNI +++++

_+_

The present was perfectly wrapped. No ends scuffed, or paper torn. Edges sharp looking. It was a shimmering pink paper that was almost ironed on it was so straight, tied together in the direct center with a big golden bow that looked like the type one would put on a new car. The box was also very large, and oddly enough, there seemed to be several small holes poked in one corner—the only imperfection to be seen.

The pretty parcel was sitting innocently on the front steps of the House of Lamentation. The seven demon brothers were curious. They didn’t know who ordered it and no one was confessing on their purchase.

But, there was an envelope attached. Golden typed script on the outside that said ‘Congratulations!’ and folded thrice inside was the letter, also typed in cursive gold.

The eldest brother picked it up, and read it aloud:

Dear Valued Customer,

Thank you for your purchase! We pride ourselves on keeping all our Kitten’s clean, happy, and safe. You bought the Extra Love package, so we included a few of her favorite toys, as well as a special leash and collar.

Our customer’s happiness is very important to us. Please be sure to contact us with any questions or concerns. We do not accept full refunds of any of our Kitten’s, however we can exchange for a new one if she is not to your satisfaction.

Again, thank you for your purchase, and please enjoy!

Sincerely,

Mail Order Kitten Girls

[yellowocaballero]

He’s Just Not That Into You: Web!Jon and Martin ficlet

Another ficlet written in the same universe as The Convention on Chronographer Lane/The Monster at the End of This Book. As before, you don’t need to have read that to read this. These ficlets are being written as character studies so I get a good handle on the uniqueness of the characters in this AU before I actually write something longer. Which is why they’re...like this. 

Very slight content warning for internalized fatphobia and Jon being interpreted as being a creep again. Reverse content warning for Martin’s tasty pasta. 

EDIT 2/4/2021: With the release of Sucker’s Bet, which this story was a kind of pilot study for, this story is no longer canon. However, you can still consider it a 15 page summary of that entire story. I’m sad I couldn’t keep the ‘join my spider cult’ thing but we all make sacrifices. 

Martin was in the middle of making a delicious pot of pasta when Jonathan Sims crawled in through his kitchen window.

Martin stared at Jonathan Sims, too out of it to even be surprised. Jon halted halfway through his entrance, sitting on the windowsill with one leg swung over it to rest on his floor, one leg on the fire escape above. Martin was on the sixth floor of his flat complex.

“Hullo,” Jon said, as if he was not in his window, “have you reconsidered my offer of -”

Martin threw his spoon at Jon, hitting him squarely on the forehead. Jon cursed, shocked into leaning backwards, and he accidentally topped off the window and onto the fire escape. He landed on the metal grid with a loud crash and a rattle, and the muffled sounds of his cursing echoed through the flat.

After a second to grab a new spoon and turn down the heat on the pot, Martin walked over to the window and wiggled it down again. He looked Jon dead in the eyes as he locked it, before going back to his pasta.

It was good. He should add some pesto and herbs next time.

Martin was in the middle of making a delicious pot of pasta when Jonathan Sims crawled in through his kitchen window. 

Martin stared at Jonathan Sims, too out of it to even be surprised. Jon halted halfway through his entrance, sitting on the windowsill with one leg swung over it to rest on his floor, one leg on the fire escape above. Martin was on the sixth floor of his flat complex. 

“Hullo,” Jon said, as if he was not in his window, “have you reconsidered my offer of -”

Martin threw his spoon at Jon, hitting him squarely on the forehead. Jon cursed, shocked into leaning backwards, and he accidentally topped off the window and onto the fire escape. He landed on the metal grid with a loud crash and a rattle, and the muffled sounds of his cursing echoed through the flat. 

After a second to grab a new spoon and turn down the heat on the pot, Martin walked over to the window and wiggled it down again. He looked Jon dead in the eyes as he locked it, before going back to his pasta. 

It was good. He should add some pesto and herbs next time. 

***

Martin had never really bothered to learn how to cook, but now that he was unemployed he had plenty of time. 

Now that he was unemployed, he had plenty of time for lots of things. He was finally taking up knitting again. Lots of seasons of Jane the Virgin to catch up on. His severance package from the Institute had been pretty good, not to mention the check Rosie had slipped him with a wink that she had worryingly called ‘Hazard Pay’, but this was London and even Martin could only make the money stretch so far. He spent eight hours of his day looking for jobs, touting his five year experience as a librarian and six month experience as an Archival assistant. But there was only so far you could go without a degree, and the market was shit, and really wouldn’t it just be so much easier to list a master’s in library science from some huge, anonymous university…

But Martin had the feeling that line of thought was what had put him on Jon’s radar in the first place. 

***

A week later Martin was halfway through a comforting Gilmore Girls rewatch when he heard a knock on his door. He had been fastidiously avoiding answering knocks on the door ever since Jon had pulled his first Jehovah’s Witness impression, but he had ordered a replacement washing machine part and it was arriving that day. He put his knitting down and got up, peering through the eyehole - hair not nearly long enough to be Jon, great - and opened the door. 

“Hullo,” the man said in a thick Cockney accent, not looking up from his clipboard, “I got a package here for Mr. Blackwood?”

“Yes, that’s me.” Martin held out his hands to take the little screen and sign for the package. After a second of clumsy fumbling, the man passed the package and the screen over, and Martin boredly scribbled his name. “Thanks, mate -”

But the man was gone, and Martin had realized belatedly that the man had slipped past Martin to enter his flat. He easily slid the cap off, letting his tightly curled hair cascade down to his shoulders, and propped his hands on his hips as he spun in a circle, admiring Martin’s extraordinarily boring and cramped flat. 

“Really love what you’ve done with the place!” Jonathan Sims said loudly. “Your sense of interior design is really impeccable, Martin, truly. A man’s home is his castle! Oh, is that vintage chintz? So cute.”

“Get out of my house.”

“Look at this ceramic kitten!” Jon was already in front of his mantle, carefully scrutinizing his little row of ceramic figures. They were fifty pence at the charity shops and Martin found them precious and charming, okay? “Your place has so much personality. My flat has personality too, but I’m afraid that personality just screams a propensity towards arson, so it’s much less impressive. How old is that couch, from the 70s? Very grandmother. Is it inherited?”

Yes. “No,” Martin said, resisting the urge to throttle the man as he dumped his washing machine part on the end table, “and please get out of my flat. I’ve said explicitly I don’t want you where I live -”

“Really, Martin, I’m hardly a vampire,” Jon said, having the gall to look offended as he cradled a little meowing ceramic kitten in his hand. “If I needed permission to enter dwellings I’d never go anywhere.” He paused a beat, something seeming to occur to him. “But I get a lot of permission from many different people of a variety of genders to enter their homes for sex, which I am very good at.” He paused again. “I really am very thirsty. I don’t suppose I could trouble you for a spot of tea…?”

Because Martin was British, he made the tea. But he resented every second of it. 

Jon hadn’t started stalking him immediately after he and his weirdo friends had murdered Martin’s boss, but it was pretty close. He had probably thought a week was enough time to emotionally recover from the ordeal of finding out that your boss’ boss was an immortal apocalypse cultist or whatever and that your boss was actually just a plant from a different and somehow creepier apocalypse cult inserted into your workplace to assassinate his boss. He had probably thought that a week was enough time to emotionally recover from the fact that Jonathan Sims - prickly, rude, pretentious Head Archivist with a heart of gold - was an elaborate fabrication, and that the man whom Martin had been falling for had never truly existed at all. 

A week had not been enough time. 

He didn’t even know Jon’s real name. 

“So what is your real name, anyway?” They were, unfortunately, sitting at Martin’s rinky-dink kitchen table, complete with little pock-marked burn scars in the wood and a wobbly leg. Martin had a magazine rolled up and jammed under the leg, which he was uncomfortably aware of as Jon lounged in his hard little wooden chair as if it was a thousand dollar gaming chair. The fake UPS uniform helped make him look like something other than a movie star, but it was hard to disguise the sharp and haughty features and the cold grey eyes. He had kept the ceramic cat, placing it in front of him with its little plainative face turned towards Martin. 

“What makes you think it’s not Jonathan Sims?” Jon asked archly, sipping at his PG Tips out of a chipped black mug. He made a faint face. “Sorry, is there cream for this? I hate black tea.”

“You always take your tea black,” Martin said automatically. Jon stared at him until he got it. “Of course. Right.” 

By the time he got back to the table with the sugar and cream Jon was going through his mail, with absolutely no shame whatsoever. “Bill, bill, overdue bill. You’re hurting for money, aren’t you? You know, I might know someone who’s hiring -”

“If you’re about to say a giant spider that’s going to lay eggs in my stomach and then burst out of my skin and transform me into a spider person, I have to pass.”

“I wasn’t going to say that,” Jon blatantly lied. “I just don’t think you’re hearing me out. Has anybody ever told you that you’re very unwilling to listen to new ideas?”

“When the new idea is joining a spider cult, then yes. Actually, no, because nobody’s ever asked me that before I met you.”

Jon didn’t seem to pick up on Martin’s extraordinarily pained expression, or maybe he just didn’t care. He leaned in instead, easily dropping a grotesque amount of sugar cubes into his tea. “Just consider it. Let the idea percolate in your mind. There’s a lot of benefits. No more worrying about money. No more putting in all that work to manipulate people. It’d be as easy as breathing for you. Anybody you want to like you likes you, and anybody you hate has their life ruined in days.” Something glinted with light in Jon’s grey eyes, like a spotlight shining off a raincloud. “Anybody you want to fall in love with you does so instantly. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

“All for the low, low price of selling my soul to a giant spider god,” Martin said sarcastically. Jon nodded fastidiously, as if it really was a low price. “Seriously, Jon? I have no interest in any of this. I don’t even know why you’ve singled me out to stalk. I don’t - I don’t like manipulating people, it’s not some kind of hobby -”

“Liar. You love manipulating people.” Jon sipped his tea, as if bored. “Honestly, Martin, we’re all friends here. I won’t judge. You don’t need to virtue signal. We both love manipulating people, getting what we want, putting on personas. We like to control how people see us, no matter what that perception is. You believe that ends justify the means, I believe that good means result in good ends. We’ve very similar.” Something strange entered Jon’s expression, almost entirely hidden by the tea, and for the first time Martin wondered if this was an expression Jon hadn��t meant for him to see. “You’re the only person I’ve ever met who is exactly like me. We should work together. You’re so well suited for the Mother. You’d be a treasured son. Valued, celebrated, loved. Everything you always wanted, you can have.”

Silence stretched between them. Martin let Jon think that he was thinking it over, staring into his own cup of Earl Grey and letting the slowly wafting steam fog up his glasses. Jon sipped his tea again, still posed casually yet attractively. In a brief yet stupid spurt of nostalgia Martin found himself missing the man he thought Jonathan Sims had been. 

Stupid. Loving Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist, had been as real as crushing on a love interest in a dating sim. Instead, Martin leaned in, and Jon leaned in to match him. Martin locked eyes with him, as sincerely as he possibly could. No lies, no artifice. “Stop projecting your insecurity about your own bad decisions on me,” Martin enunciated clearly, and Jon’s eyes widened in shock. “and get out of my house.”

He did, eventually. Maybe that was one of a million surprising things about Jonathan Sims, or whatever his real name was: Martin could always get him to do what he wanted eventually. 

***

Martin did not spend time thinking about Jonathan Sims, mostly because he had the feeling that this was what Jonathan Sims wanted. 

Instead, he frantically piled more and more projects and work into his free time. Ever since he was seventeen, Martin had always held down at least three jobs. His life was a never-ending rotation of a six am to three pm shift at Papa John’s, then a three pm to ten pm shift at Panera, and then stumbling home to stuff a ready meal in the microwave before doing it all over again only to work his third weekend job on the weekends. It had gotten to the point where he had paid the unemployed downstairs neighbor living on disability cheques to feed and occasionally take care of Mum because he hadn’t had time to do it himself. Martin could have have just dropped a job and scraped by on two so he could take care of Mum himself, but - well, it wasn’t hurting anybody. His neighbor had needed the cheques, right?

In comparison, the Institute had been an absolute dream. Work from nine to five, every day, then come home and crash. There had been benefits, insurance. It probably said something that even after discovering that both of his bosses had been cultists to Lovecraftian horrors who wanted to end the world or whatever, it was still the best job he ever had. He even missed it, sometimes - missed listening to Sasha and Tim joke around, missed the repetitive work, missed harmlessly and shallowly crushing on his persnickety boss who sometimes flashed a smile at him that made his heart melt. 

Fucker had known exactly what he was doing. 

That was what got Martin, even now. What had been the point? Jon had been there to infiltrate Elias’ plans for a Head Archivist, or so Sasha had confusingly explained after the fact. The skeptic, pissy act was to show himself off as an ideal candidate: willfully ignorant, psychologically vulnerable, and utterly isolated from everyone. What was the point of...of...seducing Martin?

The thought made Martin want to die. Imagine living a life where you woke up in the morning and thought to yourself, ‘Today I’m going to seduce the ugly, fat, high school dropout in my extensive long con to save/destroy the world’. It was like he was a movie star in a heist film or something, only cruel and pointless. 

Was it just to make fun of him? Martin had thought it was. But as he...interacted with Jon more and more, he got the sense that his fascination with Martin was genuine. He genuinely saw something of himself in Martin. 

Unless that was a lie too, and he just needed something from Martin. Unless Jon knew that Martin knew that he was conning him, and that there was another reason -

Martin had the terrible sense that Jon lived his life like this, always guessing and second guessing and triple guessing. It sounded...very tiring. 

He didn’t know how to explain any of this to Tim. They got together every so often for drinks - actually, Tim texted him asking to hang out, playing it all cool as if he went out and got drinks with tons of buddies all the time but was doing Martin a favor. Martin had the sense that he was hiding a deep and pervasive loneliness, but these days whenever Martin went down too deep a spiral of teasing out motivations he felt like Jon, so he quickly cut it out. 

“What’s there to get?” Tim said, throwing back his pint. “He’s an asshole who pretended to be our friend for months, and he turned out to be a total creep who leads a spider cult. You know, as happens sometimes!”

Sometimes Martin got the sense that Tim was a little bitter about what happened at the Archives. He didn’t really have a good thread on why yet, but he had the sense it was because Tim had ‘adopted’ Jon as his friend very intensely and that made him react badly to the perceived betrayal - no! No psychoanalyzing! Not today! 

“It do be like that sometimes,” Martin said wisely, peeling away the label at his shitty beer. The bar was crowded, noisy, and dim, and it was hard to hear Tim over the noise. “I don’t know, though. If that was all there was to it, he wouldn’t be showing up at my house all the time…”

“Wait, what?”

Martin explained in short order, trying not to feel embarrassed about it. Tim seemed to grow increasingly furious, and Martin found himself trailing off uncertainly near the end. 

“He’s doing the same thing to Sasha,” Tim said lowly. “Fucking freak.”

“Wait, what? He’s been bothering Sasha?” Jesus, that really was creepy. Come to think of it, Martin hadn’t seen Sasha around lately - she used to come get drinks with them right after they all got fired, but the last three invites she had begged off and said that she was ‘dealing with a lot right now’ and that she was ‘really swamped’. Martin was pretty sure that she was also unemployed, so he didn’t really know what she was swamped with, but it wasn’t any of his business. Maybe she was depressed. “Like, is he also trying to recruit her into the spider cult, or…?”

Weirdly, Martin felt a weird pang of disappointment at that. He had thought that what he and Jon had was special. 

Ha ha. As if. 

“I don’t know!” Tim cried, frustrated. He was gripping his pint glass tightly, as if he wished he was wrapping his fingers around Jon’s very slim and attractive neck instead. “First he keeps bothering Sasha, and now he keeps breaking into your house and flirting with you -”

“What!” Martin squeaked. “He’s not -”

“He’s a predator,” Tim said finally, as if he was a judge delivering a verdict. “Fucking freak. Martin, next time he drops by, I want you to call me immediately. I’ll kick his ass for you.”

“I’m a grown man, I can kick his ass by myself,” Martin said lamely, fully aware that he had never kicked an ass in his life and never would. 

“Don’t let that bully intimidate you,” Tim lectured, like the overbearing big brother Martin had always kind of secretly wanted. “He’s just a grifter, spider cult or not. Seriously, Martin, next time he bothers you call me. I have more than a few things I want to say to the bastard.”

It was heartwarming, almost. “You haven’t seen him since he killed Elias, right?”

Tim looked away, scowling. “Nope. Dunno why, if he’s hassling you two. I’m the only one with some serious questions I need to ask him, and he hasn’t even - whatever.” He looked back at Martin, forcing a great big smile. “Really, if he wants a hottie, why isn’t he knocking on my door, right? Like, come on, I’m single and ready to -”

“How’s the job hunt going, Tim!”

“I’m trying to get back into publishing, what do you think! Kill me!”

Martin liked Tim. If you had asked him four months ago if they were really friends, he would have smiled and deflected, because he was pretty sure that Tim was just that friendly to everybody. Martin always felt insecure with friendly and nice people, because he never knew if they were being friendly to him because they liked him and considered him a friend, or if they were just like that with everyone. 

But they still got drinks when they didn’t have to, and the expression of tight and barely controlled rage that flashed through his face when he thought that Sasha and Martin were in danger from Jon was real. Maybe they really were friends. 

Maybe there was something deeply buried and long since repressed in Tim that was destroying him slowly from the inside. Maybe Martin and Sasha had that too, that rot: the way Sasha would carelessly invade privacy to hack inside people’s private files without even thinking about it, the way that Martin would almost instinctively balance impression management with playing down to expectations with always dissecting people in a ruthless search for a weak point without even thinking about it. 

Maybe they were all bad people, every one of them. It felt sometimes as if Martin had a corrupt and diseased heart, that infected parts of his body with a sick necrosis. He hurt people when he didn’t want to; he said things he didn’t mean. There was something rotten and evil in Martin, and sometimes it felt as if he couldn’t help but pass it along from person to person.

Man hands on misery to man, Phillip Larkin said, it deepens like a coastal shelf. Get out as early as you can, and don’t have any kids yourself. 

Well, Martin had the second part down. He was still working on the first. 

***

But Martin was right to worry, because when he woke up at seven the next morning to shamble into his living room, he flipped the light switch to see Jonathan Sims sitting on his grandma couch flipping through his meager collection of books. 

“You don’t read very much, do you?” Jon said.

“How did you get into my house.”

“Told the landlord I was the exterminator and needed to get in to spray for bugs.” Jon tossed the book on the battered coffee table - 1984 - and reclined on the sofa. “You really do have quite a bit of spiders, though. Want me to take care of that? Do you want more spiders? I can get you as many spiders as you like.”

The way he sat was purposeful, the way one of his black boots with a low heel was propped on the coffee table, the way his dark and closely cut trousers were slightly splayed, his tight black turtleneck highlighting his figure was slightly hidden by a fine white silk jacket. The small part of Martin’s mind that used to work at a dry-cleaners inanely wondered how difficult that jacket was to keep clean. Most of Martin’s mind was occupied realizing that Tim was right, and that Jon was flirting with him. 

“What do I have to say to get you to leave my house,” Martin said, instead of asking why, why, why, why. He knew why - spider cult purposes - but why -

“Lots of poetry collections, though,” Jon said, and Martin knew that he had caught him looking. He had a little half-smile: half encouraging, half shy. “You have great taste. I’m a Yeats fan too.”

Sure. “Name one Yeats poem.”

“The Stolen Child,” Jon said instantly.

Martin narrowed his eyes. “What do you like about it?”

Jon was silent. 

“Thought so.” Martin pointed at his door. “Out.”

There it was, a brief explosion, so quick that Martin might have thought he imagined it: grinding teeth, sloping eyebrows, a scowl. A flash of irritation: here one second, gone the next. “I like your poetry, though,” Jon attacked, a different angle. “Your imagery is very vivid.”

What the fuck. “You went through my diary?” Martin screeched. 

“Yes?” Jon looked slightly flummoxed. “I was doing research. People like it when you display interest in their hobbies.”

“I am making coffee,” Martin said, voice strangled, “and I am making breakfast. And if you refuse to leave, you are not saying a single word until I’ve had caffeine.”

And then Martin refused to acknowledge Jon any more. Martin quickly realized that Jon hated this very much, used to being the center of attention wherever he was, and it was an extremely effective method of making him throw himself into a kitchen chair and sulk as the coffee pot sputtered out a cup. Martin focused himself on heating up the pan and cracking a few eggs into a bowl, whisking it absentmindedly as he clenched his mobile. 

He should call Tim. He had never known Jon to get violent, but that didn’t mean anything. The guy was...he was…

He glanced back at Jon, who had his arms crossed and was frowning down at the stained wood of the kitchen table. He didn’t seem to know Martin was looking, and it occurred to Martin for the first time that this might be the authentic Jon: tired and frustrated and uncertain what he was doing wrong. 

The eggs sizzled on the frying pan, and Martin pushed them around with a spatula. “What do you like on your eggs?”

Jon looked up, surprised, before rearranging his expression into something cool and distant. “Surprise me.”

Martin served them cheesy with herbs, just for that. When Jon took a bite he looked surprised, as if he had been expecting something spiteful and received only something good in exchange. 

When he put a cup of Early Grey in front of him, with sugar congealing on the bottom and rosy brown from the cream, he looked surprised again too.

“You’re excellent at reading people,” Jon said, carefully directly after Martin had a sip of his coffee. “Mother would -”

“Do you want to make a bargain?” Martin asked. 

That caught Jon’s attention. He smiled winningly, leaning in, hair carefully arranged to fall over one shoulder in a painfully attractive way. “I could be convinced.”

“If you knock on my door at a reasonable hour, then I will let you in and we can talk or whatever. I’ll make us tea. I don’t care.”

Jon’s grin only widened, and when Martin felt a foot brush his leg he had to fight the urge to jump a foot in the air. “What’ll I do in exchange?”

“You let up on the sales pitch,” Martin said severely, and physically moved his chair further away from Jon. “And you stop lying to me. And for christ’s sake, stop pretending you’re into me.”

 Jon blinked, expression falling in shock. 

He scrambled to paste something back on, but it was as if he couldn’t decide. Martin saw him half-cycle through different expressions, different appearances: abashed, eager, flirtatious. It was as if he was frantically guessing which Jon would work best to convince Martin to do what he wanted, but he just couldn’t decide. 

Finally, he weakly asked, “What makes you think I’m not into you?”

Martin couldn’t help it: he scoffed bitterly. “Guess someone like you was never asked out as a joke in secondary. Nobody would honestly find me attractive. Everything you do is calculated, Jon, and I’m not vain enough to think the flirting is an exception. It’s obvious.”

“I’m not obvious,” Jon said, physically fighting to keep his expression from twisting into anger. It was...obvious. He eventually forced his expression into something wide-eyed and sincere, reaching out a hand to place on Martin’s arm. It was warm, but it settled oddly on Martin’s skin. Something about it didn’t feel like a human arm. “That’s just your low-self esteem talking, love. When I look at you, I see -”

“A sucker?”

Jon opened his mouth, then closed his. His hand was still on Martin’s arm. Martin didn’t know why he hadn’t shaken it off. “I see someone very kind,” Jon said, almost lamely. “I like that in a man.”

“Yeah, sure.” Martin shook his hand off - disgusted with Jon, disgusted with himself. Someone like Jon - attractive, confident, smooth - could never understand how it felt. He didn’t know why he expected him to. “I don’t know why you aren’t leaving me or Sasha alone, or why you’re trying to recruit us both into your spider cult -”

“I’m trying to recruit Sasha into my vigilante superhero team, actually.”

“Whatever. Point is, if I can’t get rid of you, I don’t want our conversations to be exhausting. These...games you’re always playing,” Martin waved his hand demonstratively as he chugged coffee with the other, “are tiring. Maybe - maybe you and I are similar, Jon. But the difference between us is that I find these games tiring. I don’t like doing it. I - what I want is a relationship where there’s no games. Where I can just be me and the other person can just be them. Don’t you want that too?”

Jon stared at him, eyes wide, almost shocked, almost hesitant, almost hopeful. 

Finally, he said, “I only trust three people.”

“I’m not asking you to trust me,” Martin, who trusted nobody, said exasperatedly. What did it say, that the leader of the spider cult trusted more people than Martin did? “I’m just asking you not to lie to me.”

“I don’t know how to do that,” Jon said, before pausing a beat. “I’d trust you if you joined my spider cult.”

“You’re shit out of luck, then. And you’re not going to convince me.” Martin took another sip of his coffee, hiding his trembling hands. “Because you can’t lie to me, Jon. Face it: I’m almost as good as you are.” He smiled wryly. “As good as someone can get without supernatural powers, anyway.”

Jon stared at him, just stared, and Martin let the moment linger in silence as he cut into his eggs. Finally, he said, “You’ll tolerate my presence if I agree to drop the act.”

“Yep.”

“I’m not sure how to drop the act,” Jon admitted, somewhat embarrassed, as if he was admitting to not knowing how to tie his shoes.

Martin rolled his eyes. “Do your best. You must have been normal at one point.”

“When I was normal,” Jon said, “nobody tolerated me at all.”

The shocking honesty made Martin almost gag on his coffee. Jon’s eyes widened again, as if he couldn’t believe what he had just said, as if he had never meant to say it. As if nobody had ever heard it at all. 

“Now that we’re actually getting somewhere,” Martin said, tactfully not touching that barrel of worms - er, spiders - with a two meter pole. “Can you please tell me your real name? Unless it was, like, wiped from your mind by your spider mom? Is this like one of those cult things were they rename you for indoctrination purposes?” Something terrible occurred to him. “Is every guy in your cult named John and every woman named Annabelle? It was just a fake name you gave to Elias, right? Right?”

Jon - whoever he was - stared at Martin, completely and utterly dumbfounded. 

Then he laughed, long and hard, hoarse and wheezing and breathy, and Martin knew that this, at least, was real. 

***

Martin: I think I’ve taken care of the Jon thing

Martin: Probably

Martin: The guy’s kinda hopeless

Tim: ya sash said that hes cool

Tim: apparently shes a vigilante now? or smth? Idk

Martin: Yeah that seems about right

Martin: At least she’s living her best life?

Tim: ya good for her honestly

Tim: ….so does Spider-Man KNOW how to use all eight of those arms ifyaknowwhatimean

Martin: WE! ARE! JUST! FRIENDS!

***

“ - so then after my father passed tragically of brain cancer, I was raised by my emotionally distant and disaffected Gran. I think she’s the one who taught me that if I ever want anything in life, I have to secure it for myself. I’ve been very independent ever since I was a child, and although my social skills have always been naturally lacking I’ve worked to compensate for that by studying the art of social interaction. I guess you could call it somewhat of a special interest of mine, I like to sit in coffeeshops with my sister Annabelle and study passerby -”

“Uh huh.”

“Did you know forty percent of Britons own pets? I think it reveals interesting things about the human psychology. The domestication of dogs has always been fascinating, of course. Did you know that all dogs are descended directly from the grey wolf? There were other wolf species at the time, but they’ve long since gone extinct.”

“Wow.”

“I know! The evolution of what we today determine as dog breeds were only created in the Victorian era. I’m sure Jonah would have had some thoughts on that, if I hadn’t fed him to my mother. Actually, few people know this, but our modern conceptualization of the wolf pack hierarchy has been thoroughly debunked. Alphas and omegas only exist in captive populations. Tell that to the werewolves, huh! Actually, I organize the weekly Avatar poker games - you can come if you’re interested, great way to make some money - and I actually did tell that to the werewolves, and they were not very happy with me -”

“Jon? I can’t hear the movie.”

“Right, right.” Jon passed Martin the popcorn. “So what’s this one about?”

Martin scooped up a handful of the popcorn without shame, feeding it in a steady stream into his mouth. “About a guy who gets turned into a fly.”

“That’s fun,” Jon said warmly. “I turned a guy into a fly once. He got stuck in a spider-web immediately and everything, it was quite entertaining.” At Martin’s horrified look, he quickly followed it up with, “Gerry had found out that he was illegally evicting tenants who were undergoing cancer treatment, asking for rent before it was due and physically intimidating the tenants and everything. He also stole one thousand dollars worth of goods from Whole Foods and everything, which is quite funny if you think about it -”

“How does someone steal a thousand dollars with of stuff from Whole Foods? It’s a grocery store.”

“I know, right!” Jon threw up his hands, accidentally sending some pieces of popcorn flying. “The rich are the true parasites, Martin! I’m speaking as an insect person!”

“Word.” 

Martin ate more popcorn, and noticed Jon carefully brush his crossed legs against Martin’s knee. 

Well, he was trying. He’d stop pretending to like Martin eventually. 

They’d get there. ;

[skarsgard-daydreams]

My Doorbell

Description: You love to push Axel's buttons just as much as he pushes yours.

Warnings: jealousy, rough sex, spanking, oral (male receiving), smut, 18+

Note: This story features a reader with tattoos. So, this was supposed to be a simple drabble about Axel getting a Hitachi Magic Wand, but these characters have minds of their own. This is part one of a two part story. Axel’s girl in this one is not the same as the soft girl in my previous story. We’ll call this one his grunge girl. I want to point out that these characters have had explicit conversations about consent and know and respect each other’s limits and safe words. Consent is sexy, y’all. The title is a reference to the song by The White Stripes.

Edit: As of May 2nd, 2021, I do not currently have plans to write the second part of this story unless inspiration suddenly strikes.

Axel had been waiting for a package for weeks. Your birthday had come and gone and it never arrived, sending him into a constant state of low-grade impatience that manifested itself in little eruptions from time to time. One minute his fingers were idly brushing the koi fish tattoo inked onto the surface of your thigh and the next he was hurling his phone across the room after checking the shipment's tracking information for the seventeenth time in a row.

"What the fuck, Axel?" you finally asked.

"It won't be delivered until Friday," he grumbled as he raked a hand through his hair, trying to calm his agitation.

"Are you ever gonna tell me what 'it' is?"

You picked at the chipping nail polish on your fingertips as you spoke, trying to seem casual about the question. You were curious, but if you let him see you get curious, it would inflate his ego. It was always more fun to be playfully aloof and force Axel into coming up with novel ways to try and impress you. His well of imagination never seemed to run dry.

"Only if you ask me real nicely," he said with a smirk, sliding his hand further up your naked thigh to grab at the waistband of your boy shorts, pulling them back and letting the elastic snap sharply against your hip.

It was your turn to smirk. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" You turned around and straddled his lap, staring at him with your best bedroom eyes and stroking his package over his jeans as you kissed the corner of his mouth. "Good night," you said in an airy voice, rising to your feet and leaving him there hard as a rock. He looked at you as though he didn't know whether to worship you or pull you back by the hair and tell you that you weren't going to bed without finishing what you started. Really, you were down for either option.

Axel grabbed your thigh before you could move away, a low growl escaping his lips. His hand dug into your flesh, holding you still as he yanked your shorts down and leaned in close, teasing your pussy with his tongue and sucking on your clit for a long, delicious moment with the expertise of a lover who knows your body even better than you do. You gasped and thought your knees might give out if he hadn't been holding your leg so firmly.

"Axel," you breathed.

He pulled away abruptly, leaving you standing there with your shorts around your knees and your head spinning. He gave your ass a quick smack.

"Get some sleep," he said. "You’re going to need it."

You found it impossible to sleep that night, laying against Axel's back with his arm wrapped around your hips, his hand pressed flat against your boy shorts just above the wet spot that was gathering in the fabric from your unabated arousal. You had heard him jerk off in the shower while you got dressed for bed and thought you'd get yourself off with a little help from your favorite vibrator, but you found the drawer empty when you went searching for it. Your silver bullet and the big pink monstrosity with the rabbit ears were both gone. When you confronted Axel, he had just grinned and slipped his fingers between your legs, clearly enjoying how wet you still were.

"You'll get them back," he said, his teasing strokes reminding you that he could turn you into putty with just one of his wicked fingers. "Tomorrow."

Normally you slept easier in his arms, knowing Axel was there to hold you and investigate any bumps in the night. Now you were just horny and agitated and his arm around your waist was like a harness keeping you from slipping out of bed to search for the place he'd hidden your stash of toys. You knew you could have set him straight earlier. It wouldn't have taken any effort—just a sharp lift of your brow as you told him to quit fucking with you. But you were curious to see what kind of filthy ride he'd take you on. That was your favorite thing about being with Axel. He never failed to surprise you.

Eventually you fell into some semblance of sleep. Neither of you had work in the morning, so Axel left you in bed to sleep in as late as you wanted. You were in a dead slumber when you heard him start shouting after the mail was delivered.

"You're fucking kidding me!" Axel bellowed from the kitchen. You furrowed your brows tightly and rolled over with a groan. What was he going on about now? You managed to haul yourself out of bed and padded down the hallway, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

"Axel, what the fuck?" you asked.

He was standing by the kitchen table in his boxer shorts, holding a strange white appliance in his hands. It looked like an immersion blender with a rounded tip instead of the blender attachment. Axel held up the plug at the end of the cord and shook it wildly.

"The listing said it was compatible with an American outlet," he ranted. "Look at this."

You examined the plug. Sure enough, it had two cylindrical prongs like a European appliance. You glanced back at the device as he flipped it upside down to see if it listed its voltage on the side. From the new angle, it reminded you of a microphone.

"What the hell is this?" you asked, rifling through the box for an instruction manual and finding nothing. "You planning a karaoke night, Axeman?"

"Oh, this thing will make you sing, kitten," Axel chuckled. He threw it down on the table and walked back into the bedroom to pull on his jeans. The tone of his voice as he threatened you made your body suddenly remember its unfinished business from last night, and you felt everything inside you tighten with anticipation. Axel was always ordering new toys to enhance your sex life from one questionable website or another. The surprise on your face whenever he introduced something new in the bedroom delighted him so much that you were content to let him do the shopping. You picked up the device and turned it over in your hands, studying its shape. It didn't look like something that would go inside you, that was for sure. You suspected it was a vibrator, but you weren't sure why anyone would make a vibrator shaped like a miniature baseball bat. It seemed like overkill.

Axel came back into the kitchen, pulling on a leather jacket over an old band tee. He had showered earlier and he smelled like warm musk and agarwood. "I have to go pick up an adapter," he said, fishing his keys from his pocket. He pulled you into his arms and kissed you hard and deep, like he wanted to keep the taste of your lips in his mouth when he left. He squeezed your ass with both hands and you could feel his erection through his pants. You sucked on his lower lip as he pulled away, knowing it would make him think of you sucking his cock.

“Don’t take too long,” you said with a slight lilt in your voice. “I have a long line of ex-boyfriends who would do anything for one more chance with this pussy.”

You weren’t entirely sure how he’d react to that one, but you loved to toe that line, pushing him just as much as he pushed you. The words had barely left your mouth before you found yourself facedown on the kitchen table, the cardboard package flying to the floor as Axel pinned you and yanked your shorts down. He drew his hand back and slapped your ass as hard as he could. You dug your fingernails into the wood tabletop and yelped in surprise. It hurt, but the force rocked your core, making your toes curl with another pang of desire. Axel massaged the place where he’d struck you, still holding you down. Your heart was pounding and your vision was obscured by your own hair as you moaned, pressing your forehead against the table.

“Fuck me,” you cried as he smacked your ass again. Axel grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled your head back. You both loved it when he was rough, but in his voice you heard the pent-up frustration of the past few weeks rising to a boiling point.

“Why should I?” he growled in your ear. “Why don’t you call one of your ex-boyfriends and ask them to do it?”

You knew you had fucked up then. Axel wasn’t the kind of guy who got jealous easily. He knew you found far more camaraderie with your male friends than you did with your female friends, and whenever you would go off to the local dive bar to hang with a nearly all-male crew and call him for a ride at three in the morning, he always trusted you. You hadn’t pushed one of his buttons this time—you’d practically shoved a fork into an electrical socket that was already primed for a surge.

“I don’t want to,” you said breathlessly. “I want you. I want you, only you.”

Axel wrapped his hand around your hair, pulling you off the table and pushing you onto your knees in front of him. “Oh yeah?” he gritted out. “Prove it.”

He didn’t have to say it twice. You quickly released the clasp of his belt and unzipped his jeans, shoving his boxers down over his hips. Axel slapped your cheek lightly, his grip on your hair keeping your head still and his cock just out of reach. You looked up at him, your lips parted and your face flushed pink.

“Tell me what you want, kitten,” Axel said. He looked less angry now, and a devious grin was growing on his lips.

“I want your cock in my mouth,” you insisted, tugging against his grip on your hair and trying to move your head closer. You wanted him to know that even though you teased him, he was the only man you wanted, the only one who could make you feel this desperate.

Axel chuckled. “You’re such a fucking slut,” he said, but he wrapped his hand around his shaft and eased his cock into your mouth. He held your head tightly by the hair, making it clear that he would be setting the pace, not you. You swirled your tongue around the tip of his cock and took him into your mouth, looking back up to make sure he saw how much you were enjoying yourself. You hummed around him, running your tongue along the underside of his shaft.

“Take it,” he grunted as he thrusted deeply, and you did. You relaxed your gag reflex, taking every inch and letting him fuck you just the way he liked. You reached around and grabbed his ass, pulling him in deeper with each thrust, as if to say harder. You almost couldn’t breathe, but it didn’t matter, because you knew you could tap out against his leg if it got too intense. He loved the little sounds you made as you tried not to gag, the feeling of your hands trailing over his hips and squeezing his balls. That pushed him to the edge, and soon he was groaning and finishing down your throat. You swallowed every drop and licked the tip of his cock clean like it was a lollipop, gazing at him in adoration.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Axel breathed, pushing your hair out of your face. You nuzzled your cheek into his hand.

“No,” you purred, savoring the taste of him on your lips. “Just me.”

@loomiz​ @scxrsgxrd​ @skrsgardspam​ @grandpa-sweaters​