#opening this question to the floor. @ everyone

[lechrts]

Could’ve Fooled Me. ✷ Ollie Bearman

Pairing: Ollie Bearman x Schoolmate!reader

Summary: When Ollie does something “probably stupid.”

Word Count: 2.1k

Vera's Voice! this was so stupid not gonna lie. Jusr. Just read idk. Lmk. Bye. have fun.

Your dynamic with Ollie had always been a strange one. A mix of heated arguments and undeniable chemistry that made everyone around you raise an eyebrow.

He was infuriatingly confident, with that perpetual smirk like he already knew the answer to a question you hadn’t even asked yet.

You weren’t sure when your mutual distaste turned into something resembling... whatever this was. It wasn’t quite hatred anymore, but it wasn’t exactly a friendship either. It was more like a magnetic pull—one you both resisted fiercely.

Until, of course, you were paired for a history presentation.

So cliche.

“Fate’s a cruel thing,” You muttered under your breath the day your teacher announced the pairings.

Ollie shot you a grin as you plopped into the vacant seat beside him. “You know, if you wanted to spend more time with me, you could’ve just asked.”

You rolled your eyes, but the sharp pang in your chest at his teasing felt alarmingly like excitement.

It was supposed to be simple. You’d meet at his house, finish your slides, rehearse your presentation, and be done with it.

In and out, no distractions.

You stood outside his door, the chill December air biting at your fingertips as you hesitated. The nerves in your stomach were new, unsettling. It wasn’t like you hadn’t argued with Ollie a hundred times before. It wasn’t like you hadn’t sat next to him in class, stolen pens from his desk, or rolled your eyes at his sarcastic comments.

This just felt... different.

When he opened the door, wearing a plain sweatshirt and grey joggers, hair messy like he hadn’t bothered to tame it, you almost forgot how to speak.

“Are you gonna keep standing there, or are you coming in?” He asked, leaning casually against the doorframe.

“Just soaking in the joy of this moment,” You replied sarcastically, stepping inside with mock dramatics.

When he led the way to his room, you were shocked to see how neat it was. It smelled faintly like him—some mix of cedarwood and mint that you hated how much you noticed. The space was tidy, a little more put together than you’d expected, with a sleek desk by the window and shelves lined with racing memorabilia.

“Wow,” You said, gesturing to the small shrine of karting trophies, back from when he still raced. “How modest of you.”

He smirked, sitting on his bed. “What can I say? I’m amazing.”

“And humble.”

“And humble,” He echoed, grinning.

You rolled your eyes, plopping down on the carpeted floor next to his bed and pulling your laptop out of your bag.

“Alright,” You said briskly, needing to focus. “Let’s get this over with.”

But working with Ollie was, as expected, impossible.

You closed your eyes, counting to three.

Do not murder him in his own home.

Do not murder him in his own home.

Do NOT. murder him in his own home.

“Fine. You pick the font,” You said, shoving the laptop toward him since he had been pestering you about the title screen for the past ten minutes.

“Gladly.”

He leaned over, now sat beside you ever since he joined you on the floor many moments ago. You hated the way your heart jumped when his arm brushed against yours. It wasn’t even a full touch, just the faintest contact, but it sent a ripple of awareness through you.

“So!,” He said after a moment, his voice annoyingly casual, “Why do you hate me so much?”

“I don’t hate you,” You said automatically, though it came out a little sharper than intended.

He glanced at you, one brow raised. “Yeah, right.”

You sighed, focusing on the textbook in front of you to avoid looking at him. “You’re just...distracting.”

“Distracting?” He repeated, his tone shifting. He leaned back slightly, but you could still feel the weight of his gaze. “How am I distracting?”

“Because you never take anything seriously,” You said quickly, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “You joke about everything. It’s like nothing gets to you, and it’s—”

“It’s what?” He pressed, his voice softer now.

“Annoying.”

He didn’t respond right away, and the silence stretched, thick and heavy. When you finally glanced up, he was watching you with an intensity that made your stomach flip.

“What?” You asked defensively, suddenly self-conscious.

“Nothing,” He said, leaning back against his bed. His smirk was gone, replaced by something unreadable. “You’re just....”

He shook his head, looking almost embarrassed. “Never mind.”

Your chest felt tight, like the air between you had shifted into something you couldn’t name. You tried to shake it off, focusing back on the slides, but it was no use.

When you reached for your pen, he reached for it at the same time. Your fingers brushed, and you both froze.

Neither of you moved, the air suddenly crackling with tension. His hand was warm, his touch hesitant but lingering.

“Um.. ” He said quietly, his voice lower than usual, clearing his throat as if he had something to say.

Your heart was pounding, so loud you were sure he could hear it. “Hm?”

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Do you really think I don’t take anything seriously?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What are you talking about?”

“I mean it,” He said, his voice steady now. “Do you actually think I don’t care about anything?”

The vulnerability in his tone took you by surprise. You hesitated, then shook your head. “No. I just think... you hide it. Behind all the cockiness and idiocy.”

He didn’t deny it. Instead, his eyes searched yours, like he was trying to figure something out.

And then, suddenly, his hand was on yours again—not hesitant this time, but deliberate.

“Um.” You cleared your throat. “What are you doing?” You whispered, your voice shaky.

“Probably something stupid,” He murmured, and before you could respond, his lips were on yours.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t soft. It was everything you’d been holding back since the day you met him—frustration, anger, and all the butterflies you refused to admit you felt. His hand cupped your cheek, pulling you closer, and your brain short-circuited as the world tilted on its axis.

You kissed him back, your fingers tangling in his hair before you could think better of it. It was messy, intense, infuriatingly perfect.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, the rosiness on both of your cheeks clearly evident.

“That,” You managed, voice shaky, “Was definitely stupid.”

“Yeah?” He said, grinning despite the pink tint to his features. “Then why’d you kiss me back?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came.

Because he was right. And, worse, he knew it.

You sat there, blinking at him, your brain still catching up to what had just happened. Ollie was looking at you like he’d won something—smirking, flushed, and utterly insufferable.

“Well?” He asked, his voice annoyingly smug. “No witty comeback? No insult? Should I be concerned?”

You narrowed your eyes, shaking off the daze. “I’m just... processing the fact that you have the audacity to act like you weren’t the one who kissed me.”

“Oh, I absolutely kissed you,” He said, confidently admitting it as he straightened his posture, “But you kissed me back…”

“With enthusiasm, might I add.”

You scoffed, though your cheeks were burning. “You’re delusional.”

“Am I?” He leaned closer, his smirk widening. “Because I’m pretty sure you had your hands in my hair. Very passionately..”

“That doesn’t mean I wanted to kiss you!” You argued, pointing at him.

He tilted his head, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Right. You were just being polite. Kissing me back to avoid hurting my feelings?”

“Exactly,” You said, chin tilting up. “It was a momentary lapse in judgment. A... reflex.”

“Hmm,” He mused, clearly not buying it. He tapped a finger on his lips, pretending to think. “So, if I kissed you again, purely as an experiment, you wouldn’t kiss me back?”

Your stomach flipped at the way he said again, but you refused to let him see it. “Exactly. No hesitation. I’d push you away immediately.”

He raised an eyebrow, leaning closer still. “Immediately?”

You hated how his voice dropped, soft and teasing, like he knew exactly what kind of effect he had on you.

“Yeah,” You said firmly, though the word came out weaker than you intended.

His eyes flicked to your lips, then back up to meet your gaze. “Prove it.”

“What?”

“Prove it,” He repeated, his voice low and challenging. “If you’re so sure you wouldn’t kiss me back, let’s test your little theory.”

Your breath hitched as the space between you seemed to shrink. “Your ego is insane.”

“Maybe,” He said, grinning, “But, you still haven’t moved.”

And damn it, he was right.

You hadn’t moved.

In fact, you were leaning in ever so slightly, your resolve crumbling under the weight of his presence.

“Ollie,” You said, your voice more a warning than anything else.

“Hm?,” He hummed back, and then he kissed you again.

This time, you had no excuse. No reflex, no momentary lapse in judgment. You kissed him back because you wanted to—because, for once, you didn’t want to fight it.

But you weren’t about to let him have the last word.

When you broke apart, his hands still framing your face, you couldn’t help but smirk at him. “Happy now?”

He let out a breathless laugh, resting his forehead against yours. “Very.”

“Well, don’t get used to it,” You said, pulling back slightly.

He cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m definitely getting used to it.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re a terrible liar,” He shot back, brushing a thumb along your jawline.

You swatted his hand away, though your heart was still racing. “This doesn’t mean anything, you idiot.”

“Sure,” he said, his tone so casual it made you want to throttle him. “It’s just two people who hate each other making out in my bedroom. Totally meaningless.”

“It was meaningless.”

“Right.” His grin was maddening. “That’s why you’re still blushing.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “I hate you so much.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

“You just kissed me,” He reminded you.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t hate you!”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

You glared at him, but it was no use. The butterflies in your stomach betrayed you, fluttering wildly every time he smiled at you like that.

“Well,” You said finally, attempting to stand up and closing your laptop, “This has been a colossal waste of time. I’m leaving.”

“Oh, no, you’re not,” Ollie said, grabbing your wrist and pulling you back down. “You’re not running away from this.”

“I’m not running away!”

“Then stay.”

You hesitated, your pulse quickening. “Why should I?”

“Because,” he said, his voice softening in a way that made your heart ache, “I like you. Even when you drive me absolutely insane.”

You stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in.

You wanted to argue, to deflect with some sarcastic remark, but the sincerity in his eyes stopped you.

“Fine,” You said after a long moment, your voice barely above a whisper. “But only because we still have work to do.”

His grin returned, but it was softer this time, more genuine. “Sure. Work.”

You straightened back up, opening your laptop and pretending to focus on the screen, but you could feel Ollie’s gaze burning into you. He leaned against the edge of his bed, his smirk far too knowing.

Far too confident.

And then, after a few moments of tense silence, you sighed and closed your laptop with a sharp snap.

“Hm,” Ollie drawled, his voice dripping with amusement. “Giving up already?”

You shot him a look, your heart pounding so loud you were sure he could hear it. “We both know we’re not getting any work done tonight.”

His smirk faltered for a second, replaced by something softer, something that made your breath hitch. “Yeah,” he murmured, his voice low.

Before you could overthink it, his hand cupped your jaw, pulling you toward him. And then his lips were on yours again, and this time there was no hesitation, no awkward fumbling.

It was pure, unrelenting gravity.

You kissed him back again, with everything you had, your fingers finding the back of his neck, pulling him closer until there was no space left between you. He tasted like spearmint gum and something undeniably him, something you couldn’t get enough of.

Ollie’s hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer, like he couldn’t stand the distance. Your heart raced.

“You���re ridiculous,” You mumbled against his lips, barely able to catch your breath.

He grinned, his forehead resting against yours. “And you’re impossible.”

“And yet, here we are,” You shot back, your voice breathless but still laced with defiance.

“Here we are,” He echoed, his fingers brushing along your jaw before tilting your head back for another kiss. This one was slower, deeper, like he was taking his time memorizing every detail.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew this was a terrible idea. But in that moment, with Ollie’s lips on yours and his hands keeping you grounded, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

When you finally pulled away, your lips swollen and your heart pounding, you stared at him. He looked just as dazed as you felt, his hair slightly tousled, his lips red from kissing.

“Yeah,” You said, breaking the silence, “We’re definitely failing.”

Ollie laughed, his smile so wide and genuine it made your stomach flip. “Worth it.”

You groaned, dropping your head back and covering your face with your hands. “This is such a mess.”

He laughed, tugging your hands away so you had to look at him. “Maybe,” He said, his tone softer now, “But, it’s a good kind of mess.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips. “You’re such an idiot.”

“Your idiot, maybe,” He teased, leaning down to steal one last kiss before you could argue.

“Oh, hush it.” You laughed as the antics continued anyways.

And even though you would never admit it, you didn’t really mind whatever this was.

Could’ve fooled you.

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tags! @planetpedri @halfwayhearted @wdcbox @freyathehuntress

[onlyhereforthestories]

First Holiday With The In-Laws (Leah Williamson x Reader)

Day 22. A shorter one today sorry I didn’t have much time today 🫶

The snow crunched underfoot as you and Leah made your way up the stone path to the front door, the glow of golden light spilling from the windows warming the dark, frosty evening. You could hear laughter inside, a symphony of voices blending together, and it only added to the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. Leah squeezed your hand, her soft smile instantly grounding you.

“They’re going to love you,” she said, leaning in to press a kiss to your temple. “Just be yourself.”

The front door swung open before you could respond, and a petite woman with warm brown eyes and a Christmas apron stepped out onto the porch. “There you are! We were starting to think you got lost!” Leah’s mom pulled her into a tight hug, then turned to you with open arms.

“And you must be the one she can’t stop talking about!”

You laughed nervously but leaned into the hug, surprised at how instantly comforting it was. “It’s really nice to meet you,” you said, your voice softer than you intended.

Inside, the house was alive with the smells of cinnamon and roasted turkey, mingling with the sound of chatter and a playlist of Christmas classics. The living room was adorned with twinkling lights and garlands, and in the corner stood a magnificent tree, its ornaments glimmering in the firelight. Leah’s younger siblings were playing a card game on the floor while her father and an uncle debated something passionately at the dining table.

Leah guided you around the room, introducing you to everyone. Her dad gave you a hearty handshake, her sisters pulled you into a spirited debate about whether “Die Hard” was a Christmas movie, and by the time the introductions were over, your nervousness had melted into a bubbling warmth.

Dinner was a feast. The table groaned under the weight of dishes: glazed ham, mashed potatoes, roasted vegetables, and enough pies to rival a bakery. You found yourself laughing between bites as Leah’s family shared stories, their easy banter pulling you in like you’d been part of it forever. Leah’s grandmother took a particular liking to you, pinching your cheek as she teased Leah about “finally bringing someone decent home.”

After dessert, an array of cookies and cakes that left everyone loosening their belts, Leah’s mom announced it was time for games. “We always play charades on Christmas Eve,” she declared, bustling to set up the living room. “But first, let’s do the question jar!”

Leah groaned playfully. “Oh no, not the jar.”

“What’s the jar?” you asked, intrigued.

Leah’s mom grinned mischievously, holding up a festive tin decorated with reindeer. “It’s where we keep all the best and most embarrassing questions and prompts. Everyone has to answer or act out something. No exceptions.”

You found yourself nestled on the couch between Leah and her youngest sibling, a giggly preteen who immediately handed you a piece of paper. “You’re new, so you go first.”

Your question made you laugh: “What’s Leah’s most embarrassing childhood memory?”

Leah groaned louder, burying her face in her hands. “Oh, come on, don’t do this.”

Her brother immediately jumped in. “Oh, I’ve got this one! When Leah was seven, she thought she could build a sled ramp off the roof. It ended with her in the snowbank and her Barbie Dreamhouse crushed underneath her.”

Leah shot him a mock glare, but her laughter was contagious. “Okay, fine, but don’t forget who convinced me it would work,” she retorted, pointing at him.

As the night went on, the jar produced more hilarious confessions and wild dares. Leah’s dad had to attempt an Irish jig, her mom revealed she once dyed her hair green for a dare in college, and Leah herself had to mimic her grandmother’s unmistakable laugh, a performance that had the entire room in stitches, even the grandmother in question.

By the time the games wound down, your cheeks ached from smiling so much, and Leah pulled you into her side, her arm draped casually around your shoulders. Her eyes sparkled as she leaned down to whisper, “I told you they’d love you.”

And they did. It was impossible not to feel it in every warm smile, every hearty laugh, and the way her dad clapped you on the back as you said your goodbyes. As you and Leah stepped back into the snowy night, your heart felt as full as the house behind you, glowing with the love of a family that had just made room for you.

[veltana]

The winter rebound

✦ Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Fem!Reader

✦ Word count: ~3,6k

✦ Rating: Explicit

✦ Warnings/tags: Avengers!Bucky, alcohol consumption, fluff, pwp, smut, oral (fem receiving), piv sex, safe sex, dirty talk.

✦ Summary: You go with your friend to Stark's holiday party

✦ Note: This was the first thing I wrote and published when I got back into the marvel fandom, so it's a super self-indulgent piece! But I hope you like it anyway! As always, please comment and/or reblog! Asks are always welcome!

Masterlist | AO3

It was Friday. You watched yourself in the mirror and told yourself that you would have fun tonight. Forget about your ex of five years who broke off your engagement a month before the holidays, whom you had spent the last three weeks crying over.

Tonight you were accompanying your best friend to the annual Stark holiday party, and you would not think about him once during the night, while you danced and drank yourself into a stupor.

Standing outside the huge compound made you anxious. Maybe it was too soon to meet the real world without him. No! Don’t think about that asshole! You cut yourself off before your thoughts started to spiral.

“Come on!” your friend Lily laughed. Her genuine smile was contagious and you returned it, squaring your shoulders and forcing every dumb thought down before you took her arm as the two of you made your way down the gold and red carpet. At the end, two large glass doors were opened by life-sized mechanical nutcrackers.

“I sure hope those don’t spring to life and ruin this party too,” you mumbled. Lily giggled, “Don’t worry, I helped with the software, unless Mr. Stark went a completely different direction there should be no worries.” “So there is a possibility,” you joked as the doors closed behind you.

If she answered you didn’t hear because you were too busy taking in the amazing winter-themed party. The waiters were also dressed as nutcrackers and there were dancers in amazing outfits performing all over the floor. Music played in the background and some were moving to the beat while others stood around and talked.

Honestly, you had expected more people, like at least two hundred but there were only about fifty in the huge hall. Not only the regular people, like your friend, who helped with software, hardware, management, and the day-to-day running's of the compound, but it was impossible not to notice the heroes also in attendance.

Not all of them were there, no sign of Thor or Loki, or the Guardians, but this was your first time so close to any hero ever, you would take what you could get.

“Come, I’ll introduce you to everyone,” Lily said and started to pull you along while you gazed at the shifting decorations adorning the walls, obvious to the blue eyes that followed you with interest from the bar.

Too many names spun through your brain, accompanied by the alcohol your friend had been plying you with.

Everyone you had met so far had been incredibly nice and friendly and hadn’t minded when you asked all the dumb questions about working at such a place.

Finally, it came down to the big event, meeting Mr. Stark and maybe the rest of the Avengers currently there.

Lily stepped up to her boss and greeted him and Pepper Potts like they were friends rather than her superiors and then introduced you. Not a lot of people got to shake hands with Iron Man and Pepper Potts but now you had, and it was totally normal.

“Interesting hair color,” Tony Stark pointed out. “Is it meant to look like that?” It was such an old man thing to say you could only laugh as Pepper elbowed him in the ribs. “I am sorry,” Pepper apologized but you waved it off.

“He is paying for everything I drink, so if he wants to make fun of my hair, it’s fine.” Pepper gave you a relieved look and was about to say something else when a voice interrupted.

“It looks like the Aurora Borealis.”

Bucky Barnes had appeared out of nowhere, like the skilled assassin he had been trained to be. It was like he had materialized out of thin air at your side and you jumped when he spoke.

Before you knew what you were doing, you reached out, slapping your palm against his hard chest, and said “For fuck’s sake,” while your other hand rested over the heart trying to work its way out of your chest.

Then you realized what you’d done and pulled back your hand quickly, covering your mouth. Bucky stared back at you, mouth slightly open, while Lily and Tony both cackled in amusement. “That’s what you get Barnes,” your friend pointed out.

With a crooked smile, Bucky just said, “How about I buy you a drink to make up for it?” and held out his arm. “As long as it’s crazy expensive since the old man made fun of my hair,” you shot over your shoulder at Tony as you took the offered arm.

Your friend winked at you before she returned to her conversation with Natasha Romanoff, whom you would just have to say hello to some other time.

Bucky led you the short way to the bar and you eased your way on to the chair, making sure not to get tangled in your long dress, as Bucky leaned over the bar and asked for the most expensive champagne they had.

“I’m Bucky,” he said. “I know,” you smiled at him before introducing yourself too.

In no time there were two flutes in front of you, he offered you one, saying cheers before you took the first sip. The unabashed moan that left you wasn’t meant to be sexual but Bucky stopped his glass halfway to his lips to just stare at you. It cracked you up, “Sorry,” you said, “I’ve never tasted champagne this good before.” He also took a sip, his eyes widening a little, and when he’d swallowed all he said was, “Wow.” “I could get used to this,” you took another mouth and closed your eyes.

When you opened them again you found him looking at you and it made a shiver go down your spine. For the first time in a long time, you felt desire pool in your lower belly. “Will this make up for Stark’s comment?” he asked. “It will absolutely!” you promised. “I think your hair looks great and I’m like twice his age so…” he trailed off.

“My friend, Lily, has told me about these crazy old super soldiers, but you look spry for your age,” you winked at him. “You can only imagine,” he flirted back, and your cheeks heated. You had forgotten about this, about the utter intoxication of flirting with a man and having it returned to you.

After several weeks of drought, your body suddenly knew what arousal was again and flooded you with it, making your heart beat twice as fast and your skin flush. “Oh, you want me to think of everything you can do?” you asked with a raised eyebrow. “Anything you want, doll,” he leaned forward, “But I’m sure your imagination won’t hold a candle to the real thing.” “Are you going to show me?” “If you want to,” he smirked and you felt yourself grow wetter by the second.

You leaned in too, unable to resist him and not wanting to either. You wanted to get lost in him for as long as he would have you. He finished off the rest of his champagne like it was a shot of liquor.

“Come on, I have just the place,” he smiled, holding out his hand. Not even second-guessing yourself for a moment you finished your glass and let him lead you away.

Bucky took you through a side door, into a corridor that led to the heart of the compound which was now deserted, and finally into a large room with a domed ceiling.

It looked like a cinema almost, except the screen was the whole ceiling, and in the middle of the floor was an enormous sofa-like thing that easily fit several people.

After Bucky pressed something on a side panel the room lit up with the Aurora Borealis.

You let go of his hand, staring with huge eyes at the display. Maybe you had misinterpreted his intentions and they were actually pure, not at all the filthy things you had thought this would end up being.

Never had you been happier to be wrong.

This time when he appeared out of nowhere he didn’t scare you, he gripped your waist with the vibranium arm and spun you into his chest, before using his other hand to pinch your chin between his fingers.

“I’m going to kiss you, tell me if I should stop,” he breathed. Instead of answering with words you surged up and crushed your lips against his, wrapping your arms around his neck, and pulling him impossibly closer.

It was almost like he expected you to be timid or something because, for a few seconds, he didn’t move, but then he rushed into action, moving his lips and kissing you like a man starved.

Desire flooded you, making every one of his touches feel like fire even through the fabric of your dress. He moved you backward until your knees hit the oversized sofa, and you laid down.

Bucky’s face was burning with desire as he looked down on you, before he could move or say anything you grabbed your skirt and pulled it up until it bunched around your waist so that you were able to spread your legs without restraint.

The growl erupting from his chest made you smile and you crooked your finger toward him. He knelt between your legs, grabbing your thighs to spread them even more before he leaned down over you to capture your lips again.

The action made the hard cock in his jeans brush against your heated core, making you moan into his mouth.

He pulled back, eyes wild, “Your sounds make me fucking crazy.” he groaned, moving his hands down your naked legs, caressing them and gripping them, like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to be rough or gentle.

“Hope so,” you smiled and started to tug at his suit jacket, needing to see his body. He obliged by sitting back and ridding his upper body of clothing. As soon as you could your hands splayed out across the expanse of his naked torso, feeling the hard muscles under the soft skin.

Your eyes grazed over the scars on his left shoulder but didn’t pay it any mind. The man had trauma, that was no secret, but tonight you didn’t need to delve into that. Instead, you sat up, kissing the skin you could reach and licking at his nipple, making him moan most deliciously.

He reached around you to unzip your dress and you whined when you had to move away from him to let him pull it off you. Now you were almost completely naked with the super soldier, except for the thong you wore that did little to hide anything from him, and your heels.

Without another word, he stood up and unbuttoned his pants, peeling them off and kicking off his shoes in the process, before he was back over you. Now it was his turn to taste your skin and when he closed his mouth around a nipple, using his vibranium hand to pinch the other, you released a high-pitched mewl you never heard from yourself before.

That only spurred him on, alternating between sucking and licking at you, squeezing or pinching your sensitive buds. The pleasure was too much, like you would implode or maybe even come from just him playing with your tits. You fisted the fabric under you, pushing your chest even more into him as moans and words tumbled from your lips.

“Bucky, please!” you tried forming a coherent sentence but failed. “What do you need, doll?” he asked, lips shiny with his spit as he looked up at you. “Touch me, make me come, please Bucky,” you didn’t want to wait another second for the pleasure you had missed for a lot longer than the weeks since your break up. This temporary connection with a stranger was already better than what you had experienced over several years.

“Can I taste you?” his voice was husky, filled with restrained want. “Yes!” you smiled and raised yourself on your elbows.

You watched as he kissed his way down your form, pulling off your thong and throwing it away. He grabbed your thighs and spread them wide before letting the thumb of his vibranium hand slowly drag up, separating your folds, groaning, almost whispering “Fuck, your pussy is perfect,” and leaning in to carefully lick up your spread lips. You fell back, staring up at the beautiful display as Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier, one of the Avengers, ate you out with perfection.

Every move he made sent sparks through your entire body and pulled cries from you. Your hands tangled in his hair, not pulling or pushing, just needing to anchor yourself on something. Nothing would hold a candle to this for the rest of your life you suspected, because even though you had just met, Bucky Barnes took his sweet time, caressing his hands up and down your sides, down your legs, and back up again, using his tongue and lips to make your body blaze.

Your crescendo built steadily, as did your voice, the closer you got the more you pleaded and begged, even though he was doing exactly what you wanted him to. When two fingers on his right hand breached you with no problem your back bowed, the pleasure rushing through you, and when he crooked them and moved them inside you, it was everything the dam needed to break and the coil inside you snapped.

You screamed his name as the orgasm hit you like a freight train. What was even better was that he worked you through it, coaxing every last drop of pleasure out of you before you had to instead beg him to stop.

"Too much," you whimpered when the uttermost tip of his tongue gently floated across your clit. "No, darling, not enough. A man could get addicted to hearing you scream his name."

You whimpered again, your body rocking with overstimulation at every pass of his tongue. It was wonderful to hear him say those things but you needed more.

"Please tell me you have a condom so you can fuck me," you groaned and that made him stop, staring at you from between your legs before kissing up the side of your thigh to sit back on his heels before he got up. He freed himself from his underwear before he bent down to grab his pants and pulled a condom from a pocket and that gave you a chance to admire him. His cock was hard, glistening, and a lot bigger than what you were previously used to, but that only sparked more excitement in your lower stomach.

"Hands and knees, baby," he smiled and made a twirling motion with his fingers. You wasted no time rolling over, and getting into position. His flesh hand slapped your ass playfully when he knelt behind you and when you moaned he chuckled. "You like that huh?" he asked as the tip of his cock started to press into you.

He was big, you whined and whimpered with every inch he pressed into you. Maybe why he took his time eating you, because he needed you to be as aroused as possible for it to fit. You clawed at the fabric, feeling like you were having an out-of-body experience with how he filled you.

"So good, taking it all," he praised when his hips were finally flush with your ass. Trying to answer him with words was out of the question, instead, you rocked your body, feeling his cock press against everything inside you, giving you the most delicious sensation you probably ever felt.

His hand landed on your ass again and that spurred you on, starting to move a bit faster. "Look at you, fucking yourself on my cock," he sounded a little breathless and you wished you could see him. "Do you like it, darling? Do you like my cock filling you to the brim?"

Fuck, Bucky Barnes had a mouth on him you had not expected. He grabbed your hips and helped you along, starting to fuck you deep and hard, pulling almost all the way out before shoving back in again.

With every move, you cried out in sheer ecstasy. Bucky kept on telling you how good you sounded, he didn't mind at all that you were loud.

The pace was hard but not hurried, he seemed to like taking his time, not rushing through the action just to get to the finish line. But it was driving you mad, it felt like you were at the precipice constantly, ready to tip over but needing something more to do it.

Then he grabbed you around the waist and pulled you up until you were flush against his chest, his pace never stopping. "Hi, sweet thing, enjoying yourself?" he wasn't even winded and you were a panting, whimpering mess, feeling like you were about to lose it.

"Yes, Bucky, please touch me, make me come again." He kissed your shoulder, "My pleasure," was his answer and his left hand descended on your aching clit.

A shudder and a scream passed through you when he started to rub small circles over it. Suddenly you were so close to the edge you could almost taste it, and Bucky knew it too.

"That's right, come on my cock, doll. Can you do that for me? Be good and come for me?" he said between kissing up your neck, moving the arm around your waist up to grab your jaw, and turning your head to the side. The kiss was sloppy but delicious, and with the aid of his fingers and so full of his cock the orgasm took you by full force, making you shake in his grip.

He released your mouth and let the sounds you made fill up the room, pressing his mouth to the side of your head and telling you over and over again how fucking good you felt coming around him.

If he hadn’t held you up, you would have collapsed no doubt, but Bucky had no problem keeping you up as he found his own release, pressing his forehead against your neck and mumbling obscenities, his hips stuttering against your ass.

Now he was breathing heavier, holding you tight against him with both arms, letting his fingers draw random patterns on your skin.

You were in a post-orgasmic haze, only existing in that moment with no past or future, only his warm body, and a sated need. "Gonna need to let you go now, darling," he said in a low voice "Lay down." His arms loosened around you and you braced yourself with your arms and eased yourself down on your side.

Bucky got up, probably to dispose of the condom, before laying down behind you. You hadn't expected him to want to cuddle, but he draped his arm across your side, pulling you flush against him.

"You okay?" he asked in a whisper. "Fan-fucking-tastic," you answered with a small laugh and felt a million times lighter all of a sudden.

After a few minutes of laying there, you felt like you'd been gone from the party long enough, but judging by Bucky’s heavy breathing, he had fallen asleep behind you.

He didn't wake as you gathered your things. When you found the thong, you looked at it, looked over at his gorgeous form laying there, and giggled as you found his pants and stuffed the thong down his pocket.

With the help of some items in your clutch, you patched up your make-up and fixed your hair before slipping out and closing the door behind you.

It was a small miracle that you could find your way back to the party but you did and immediately went to the bar for a drink.

Lily found you minutes later and she just raised an eyebrow, you shrugged and tilted your glass towards hers, clinking them together, and then you both burst out laughing.

*

Monday rolled around and it was hard to work because you kept getting lost in the memories of Friday night.

His eyes, his scent, his voice as he said those things to you. You squeezed your legs together and stifled a low moan.

Suddenly your phone chimed and pulled you back into the real world. A text from Lily.

[So, Bucky Barnes just came by and asked for your number. I gave it, of course, just so you know!] [Okay? Did he say why he needed it?] [Apparently, you left something(????) here on Friday and he wanted to return it.] [Hmm, okay, thanks!] [What did you leave?!?!?!?] [Don't be so nosey, go back to work!]

Your stomach did a flip when the next message was from an unknown number. It had a picture attached, your thong tangled in his fingers, and the text [You left these.] For a second you imagined him using them as he got himself off. You bit your lips as you responded. [Keep them or throw them away, I have more, don't worry.] even added a little wink-emoji.

[I want to return them, personally. Are you free this afternoon?] His response was quick and very to the point.

A wonderful shudder traveled through you at the thought of seeing him again. You had meant for this to be a one-time thing, something to get you back into the world and learn to exist without your ex but there wasn't any harm in seeing where this could go, and hopefully, you would have a lot more amazing sex on top of it.

[Sure, I get off at five.]

[lost-in-fandoms]

Winter Warmers day 17: hot cocoa soup. Max & GP. About 600 words.

Max can race.

He's been telling that to everyone who questions it: his trainer, the team's doctor, Christian, Jonathan, even Helmut. It's just a little cold, and he's raced with worse. Besides, it's not even raining anymore, and his fever has gone down.

He can race.

It would be really stupid to miss a race just because he's a bit stuffy, a bit sore, a bit tired. Besides, his father would never forgive him, and he would be right not to.

So he can race, and he will race, and everyone should just shut up about it and let him focus on actually getting ready.

He's trying to work through some stretches, having to breathe heavily through his mouth because his nose is annoyingly blocked, when there's a knock on the door.

It makes him groan, not wanting to deal with someone else trying to tell him it's "unhealthy" to push his body like this, or that he doesn't "need the points" since he's not in the championship fight. As if not every single point counts!

"What is it?" he asks, hating the way his voice sounds, raspy and broken, hurting all the way through his throat.

"It's me," GP's voice answers, and he groans again, flopping back on the floor and closing his eyes.

Great, now they sent GP to try and discourage him. Awesome.

GP must take his silence for an invitation, because the door opens, and then closes, as GP's steps come closer.

"Are you alright, down there?" he asks, concern and amusement forming a weird mix in his voice.

Max opens one eye, glaring, unwilling to admit it feels a little too good to be laying down instead of preparing for the race.

He can race, and he will race, even if he has to go against the wishes of every single person in the damn garage, himself included.

The only thing is that, when he opens his eye, he finds that GP is holding something, and not his usual clipboard.

He curiously opens his other eye too, pushing himself up on an elbow to look at the tray better, trying to see what's in the bowl on top of it.

GP's smile is too fond and knowing for Max's taste as he sets it down on the small table, making him want to glare again, even as he squirms into a sitting position.

"I know this is not in your pre-race diet, but I think it should make you feel better," GP says, offering a hand to help Max up, keeping his hold until Max is solidly on his feet. "We need you in tip-top shape, after all."

GP's voice fades a bit in the background as Max takes a step forward, surprise filling him.

In the bowl there is what looks like tomato soup, steam wafting up from the surface.

He looks up at GP, not really knowing what his face is doing, emotions swirling around in his chest as the man reaches out, gently clapping a hand on his shoulder.

"Eat, drink some water, and then I'll see you out there, alright?"

Max nods automatically, not really knowing what to do.

He doesn't know what to say, doesn't know why GP is the only one who hasn't questioned him, but has brought him a bowl of comfort instead. He doesn't know how to express the gratitude and trust threatening to make him tear up. But GP doesn't ask anything from him, turning around and leaving him to it.

As he brings the first spoonful to his mouth, Max closes his eyes, trying to catch the taste of love and care with every bite.

[cosmicrelease]

steve had spent all day at work. meaning he spent all day masking using his perfectly curated customer service persona. and he was tired. all he wanted to do was go to his dark, quiet house, and curl up in bed.

except he couldn’t.

no of course he couldn’t. he had stupidly made plans weeks ago and stupidly assumed he’d be up for it when the day came. eddie had asked steve to use his place for a hellfire christmas get together and of course steve said yes. but now the day is here and he really wasn’t looking forward to it.

steve drove home from work in silence. just needing the time to recover from the day. he knew he didn’t have much time between work and when people would be at his place but he was hoping it would be enough time to take a breath.

unfortunately, it was not enough time. everyone had shown up about an hour ago and steve was starting to feel the ribbon holding his mask on start to come loose. the group was in the living room listening to christmas music while having a loud and heated debate about something from the last campaign. steve was sat next to eddie on the couch, trying to keep up with what was going on. trying to make the right facial expressions for whatever story was being told to him, trying to make sure he asked enough questions but not too many, trying to appear like everyone else. all that in combination with the music and everyone talking at once and the room was a mess of discarded wrapping paper had steve feeling like he was about to rip off his skin.

normally steve did great in social situations, he was good at mimicking people and listening to what they had to say. but on days where his system was already overwhelmed, he got very overstimulated very quickly. and all he wanted to do was be somewhere quiet and dark.

not wanting to ruin anyone’s festivities he decided to go up to his room, his safe space, to try and get it together. he hadn’t even realized he had been shaking until he reached for the knob to let himself in. after shutting the door to block out the noise steve went to the furthers corner of the room before sliding to the floor with his back against the wall. it made him feel safe and protected from all sides. he began biting at the skin on his nails on one hand while the other was in his hair pulling, trying to pull himself back to reality. he felt like his whole body was on fire. his pants were too tight, his shirt had a tag that he hadn’t noticed before, and he could still hear the rumbling of people on the floor below.

he wasn’t sure how much time had passed before he heard a small knock on the door, “stevie? I’m going to come in because I’m worried about you. okay baby?”

steve didn’t have the energy to respond but he knew eddie was going to come in either way so it didn’t really matter. eddie opened the door before quickly and quietly closing it, making his way over to where steve and quietly speaking, “hey sweetheart. what’s going on?”

steve couldn’t respond, still feeling too overwhelmed to form a coherent thought. instead he let out a small defeat whine because it’s the only sound his body would allow him to make. suddenly steve felt eddie grab his hands, entangling their fingers together. it was grounding but he still felt jittery and like he needed to get the movement out somehow so he began rocking side to side. he closed his eyes because making eye contact with eddie right now is way too much for him.

this caused eddie to softly say, “yeah baby that’s okay. i just don’t want you hurting yourself sweetheart.” eddie started to softly rock along with steve as to not hinder steve’s movements with their hand holding.

they sway for awhile longer while steve takes some deep breaths before stopping his movement, hands still intwined with eddie’s. he then opens his eyes to look at eddie before saying a whispering a quiet, “sorry.”

“oh sweetheart,” eddie cooed. “you never have to apologize for something like this, it’s not your fault. i just want to make sure you’re okay. can we get you off the floor and over to the bed?”

steve was so exhausted he could only nod in reply to eddie’s question. eddie stands first, and with their hands still connected, steve allows himself to be pulled up off the floor. once steve is sitting in bed eddie grabs him some comfy pants to slide on instead of jeans, and tells steve to take his shirt off since eddie knows it will make steve feel like he can breathe better.

once he was changed and comfy steve spoke up again, “eds? will you—will you hold me?”

“yeah sweetheart of course i will.” eddie gently replies as he arranges himself. he sits with his back against the pillows and allowed steve to wrap himself around eddie’s torso, with his head on eddie’s chest.

after letting out a sigh of comfort as he felt eddie’s fingers in his hair steve felt the need to say something, “thank you eds. i really appreciate you taking care of me and not judging. you make me feel safe.”

“you know you’ll always be safe with me baby. i will always take care of you just like you always take care of me. i wish you had told me you were having a bad day stevie, i could’ve helped you sooner.”

“i didn’t want you to worry. plus i didn’t want to ruin your party. oh my god the party! is everyone still downstairs? did i ruin everything?” steve began to panic.

“no need to stress sweetheart i already took care of it.”

“does that mean you kicked everyone out and i ruined your party?”

“no of course not! i just told dustin i was coming to check on you and if i wasn’t back in an hour to get clear everyone out. we had already done all the stuff we had planned lovey, we were just down there shooting the shit. i promise you didn’t ruin anything. now go ahead and rest I’m sure you’re exhausted right now. we can talk more about it later.” eddie sealed his statement with a kiss to the top of steve’s head.

“okay. love you eds.”

“love you too baby. now get some rest i’ll be here when you wake up.”

[fanficbrewery]

How veil guard characters react to you sleeping on Assan headcanons

i've had this idea in my head for awhile now so i decided to go ahead and do it instead of waiting for requests lol

the intro takes place after the siege of weisshaupt where yall haven't confessed yet but the tension is there its kinda long you don't have to read all of it but i was excided to write it.

GN reader

Intro:

your head aches with an unbearable pain that comes and goes, maybe you were hit in the head by one to many darkspawn but you shouldn't be surprised, weisshaupt was hard one everyone not just for you. ....Weisshaupt... the screams of all the wardens dying replays in your head. Those people signed up to fight the blight and dark spawn not a god let alone 2.

Seeing Davrins defeated face at every new warden body you stumbled across makes you feel guilty. guilty for disturbing Solas's ritual and causing the gods to break free. Guilty for Davrin and Lucanis going at each others throats for messing up. You should have payed more attention to your team, made sure they were ready for this fight. But both Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain walked away alive. You replay the entire battle in your head over and over again trying to figure out what you did wrong with little success.

The blinding pain in your skull returns once more, You roll to your other side in your bed hoping to find a more comfortable position to sleep in. The pain shoots from one side to the other making you sigh. "Well this isn't working" you say, getting up from your bed with difficulty. you stumble into the hallway to the railing of the second floor of the lighthouse. Quiet.. everyones asleep.

you push open the doors to the light house and step into the light of the fade. Right.. time doesn't move here.. its always light outside, your never gonna get used to that. As you suspected no ones awake its quiet almost to quiet. your starting to wonder why you came out side before

*squawk* you look around and see the young griffon standing a little away from you, right outside Davrins room as always. The little griffon tilts his head at you like asking what your doing up. "Hey Assan" you walk over to him, sticking out your hand to pet him, scratching behind his ear just how he likes. You realize just how soft his feathers are, your starting to get sleepy just petting him.

before you can get up to try to go to sleep again Assan gently bites on of your fingers before laying down almost trying to get you lay down with him. Does he know your having difficulty sleeping? is he smart enough to realize that?. He looks at you with these puppy eyes purring and gently gnawing on your finger. Aw what the hell he might just help you sleep. laying down on the hard ground and using Assan as a pillow is the last thing you remember before slipping into sleep

Bellara

Working on the Nadas Dirthalen was tiring. she had been working for HOURS trying to ask the right question and getting the spirit to cooperate with her but she's had no luck

maybe getting something to eat will help? yeah getting a snack sounds good. and then maybe a nap.

she leaves her room, walking to the kitchen when..

was rook curled up with Assan? or was she seeing something else in her peripheral?.

Turning around to see you sleeping with Assan is the cutest thing she's seen in awhile

after Weisshaupt she was honestly worried about you. She thought you might be taking what happened hard and blaming yourself for Ghilan'nain getting away but if it wasnt for you, you guys wouldn't have even killed her archdemon

she's happy your getting rest you deserved. you've helped her and the team so much she knows you deserve the rest and she doesnt dare trying to wake you up

she quickly goes to her room and grabs a blanket she wasn't using and carefully drapes it over your sleeping body, giving Assan a pet while he's asleep to

she gush's about how cute you are once more before you going back to her room to sleep herself, forgetting all about her snack

Davrin

when he wakes up the first thing he noticed was that Assan wasn't at the foot of his bed like usual. Where has his feathery companion gone?

getting up and seeing his door open was the first sign of trouble, when the hell did Assan learn to open doors??

he gets outside and immediately starts scanning for Assan

when he finds him he definitely didn't expect to see you as well

he comes over to inspect what's going on he finds you fast asleep face first in Assans feathers

he'd be lying if he said his heart didn't skip a beat or two

Davrin likes you, he hasn't tried to be subtle about it either. One of the things that draws him to you is how good you are with Assan even if he thinks you spoil him to much

seeing you like this with Assan might just solidify that fact for him

he decides he cant just leave you sleeping on the ground like this. Assan might be comfy but the ground beneath you sure isn't

he picks up your sleeping form despite Assans complaining squawk and takes you up to his room, Assan following close behind.

he lays you down on his bed. Assan jumps up and lays down right by your feet. "cute" Davrin thinks to himself

you didn't even stir when he picked you up, you must have been really tired

....maybe its because of weisshaupt or what happened after it.

he should go apologize to Lucanis, take something off your plate. he stands up walking to the kitchen leaving you to rest.

emmrich

he had been up late looking for any information he could find about the hand of glory you all had recovered from the Necropolis

it was old magic now a days forbidden from being preformed so his knowledge on it was limited

he had sent Manfred to recover a book he lent to Bellara awhile ago now. What is taking him so long?. Did he get lost around the light house perhaps?

he walked outside the light house to see Manfred hovering over something. His skeletal form blocking Emmrich's view but he could see somebody laying on the ground

was somebody hurt?!. he ran over to assist but it was just you sleeping on Assan

while he was happy you weren't hurt he thought that surely there were more comfortable places to sleep then on a messy griffon

*hiss* Manfred let out a concerned hiss while pointing at your sleeping forms

"yes i see them Manfred, what shall i do? i don't think sleeping on Assan is very sanitary but i don't wish to disturb their rest"

he asked Manfred Not expecting much of a reply. He already knew what he was going to do

he reached down gently shaking your shoulder. "rook, dear, wake up"

you wake up already missing the little sleep you were able to catch. "oh uh hi Emmrich" sleeping on Assan probably wasn't the best idea, your back was already hurting.

"rook are you alright? why are you sleeping on the ground?" his face was full of concern "i uh couldn't sleep I guess Assan looked to comfy"

Emmrich sighed at your response "rook do you remember me offering to teach Bellara some breathing techniques to help her relax?"

"yeah i do why?" you responded still a little disoriented

"why don't i teach you some as well to help you sleep of course. Manfred could make us some calming tea as well" he offered his hand to help you up

"actually... that be really nice Emmrich..thanks" Emmrichs face got hot at your sincerity but covered it with a smile

"of course rook its nothing, now lets get you inside"

you both walk into the light house Manfred trailing behind leaving a grumpy Assan outside

Harding

"Mmmm..Ahh" Harding stretched, standing up from her bedroll

she was finally starting to get used to having dreams now. Even starting to feel well rested after waking up

she was planning on going to Rivain and training with the lords of fortune to keep practicing her new magic. Weisshaupt was hard and she wanted- no needed to be better for the next fight with the gods

she wonders if maybe you would like to come with her. She knows you took Weisshaupt hard, it was hard for everyone but she cant even imagine what your feeling right now

it would be fun to get you out of the light house and doing something that wasnt trying to save the world

she leaves her bedroom, walks into the light house, up to your room and.. your not here? huh weird maybe your in the kitchen

she leaves and walks up the steps past the workshop and that's when she sees you and Assan

"... oh my gosh rook are you sleeping on Assan?" she chuckled walking up to you and Assan seeing you completely knocked out

... you looked so peaceful sleeping and pretty too..... ok she's just being creepy now isn't she

when she was in the inquisition she worked as a scout, she's slept on grass, rocks, pavement, and sometimes even trees. She knows that no matter what it ends in a hurting back and neck. It'd be best to wake you up now

"hey..hey rook" she gently shook your shoulder waking you up

"huh- oh uh hi Harding"

"morning sleepy head, what'cha doing sleeping on Assan?" she asked smiling down at you

"i uh couldn't sleep but Assan is just really soft" Harding giggled "well if you keep doing that your back is gonna hurt like hell, come on ill try making you some coffee, and ill make you my ham and jam slam"

"thanks Harding id love that" you stand up. Yup Harding was right your back is starting to hurt already

"I was also going to go to the lords of fortune to train again you should come with me yeah?" she asked walking to the kitchen

"yeah id like to spend some time with you Harding" ".....me to!" Harding replies smiling at you as you both walk into the kitchen.

Lucanis

he hasn't slept. All he can see in his head is Ghiln'nain. He was so close. There was no reason for why he missed. He was sure he could do this. "A crow never fails a contract." Those words from his grandmother replaying in is head from before she..

He's survived this night using coffee, he's on his fourth cup now. He needed to stay awake to make sure spite cant take control. Everyone should be awake by now, time to get ready for the day.

he leaves the pantry into the kitchen and starts to make a large pot of coffee for everyone. What should he make for breakfast?. His mind wonders to you. Maybe he should make your favorite breakfast but... oh he cant remember what it is.

cant kill, now he cant remember what else cant he do.

maybe he should just find you and ask what you'd like for breakfast

he walks outside and spots you and Assan immediately. strange.. what were you doing.

walking over he's able to tell your asleep. Your even breaths and eyes closed peacefully gives it away but why were you out here sleeping on the floor and not in your bed?

*sniffs* "smells like...guilt, regret, and the sting of failure" ah great he's awake. "What are you talking about?" he asks as the demon of spite materializes beside him looming over your sleeping form

"rook! obviously!. The old stench of failure is intense" ..."failure of what?" "WEISSHAUPT. they think they failed usss" "it wasn't them that failed it was me i had her so close.. and i missed"

"not to them no.. to them they should have fought harder, saved more, helped more!"

you shouldn't feel like this. it was him that failed. You were the only reason he even got close to Ghilan'nain.

He bent down reaching out to you. "NO DONT WAKE THEM" "why?" he pulls back surprised by the demons insistence "they just fell asleep despite the pain.. let them sleep" "why do you care spite?" "I like them... much more than i like you" He sighed looking back at you

he reach forward and brushed a piece of you hair away form your face. he stood up. "Where are you going?" "to make breakfast"

he'll wake you once breakfast is ready. And he'll work harder to make sure you don't have to feel guilty ever again.

Neve

notes, notes, and more notes. They were littered all over her desk, floor, and on her bed. As cute as they were the wisps had been no help, she even caught one trying to take her notes out the window into the fade.

She had slept very little with the idea of Aelia being back in Dock Town plaguing her mind. She needed to catch her before she caused more chaos but she had ran out of leads awhile ago.

Sitting here isn't going to help. But Coffee might. Then she can go into Dock Town and talk with some contacts.

Walking out of her room she spotted you and Assan immediately. She chuckled to herself, walking over to the two of you. "Well isn't this sweet" no response, "Rook?" still nothing

it was then that she noticed your closed eyes and even breaths. Why were you sleeping out here?. Just then Assan opened his eyes cooing softly at Neve

"hey Assan what are you and rook doing sleeping out here?" he squawked quietly in response. "Really?" she was talking to the griffon like she understood him, a Habit she picked up recently

"well come on Assan ill give you a treat or two before Davrin wakes up". When the griffon didn't follow her she was surprised, he's usually very food motivated.

she sighed crouching down to his level, scratching his chin.

She glanced over to you, noticing the heavy circles under your eyes. It was about Weisshaupt wasn't it?. You were much easier to read then you think.

as time passed you awoke groaning, sitting up and feeling pain shoot up your back. "Ow..." "morning sleepy head". Startled you look beside you to see Neve sitting on the ground Assan's head in her lap, drinking a cup of coffee

"oh uh hi Neve how long have you been there?" "long enough to notice you snore in your sleep. Had trouble sleeping?" she asked Taking a sip of her coffee " yeah I guess i just fell asleep on Assan but- did you stay here with me while i slept?" she turns her head away dodging the question completely and stood up.

"come on i made a pot of coffee for everyone. You should come down to Minrathous with me, ill treat you to some of Hal's fish fry" she said, walking to the kitchen. If you had been able, you would have seen the dark blush she was hiding with a smirk as she walked away.

Taash

they were sitting on the floor of their room, wraping the last rope of the Dar-saam ritual around their arm. They stood up and took a deep breath before walking out of their room.

They had another thing to do for their mother. "Taash, shokra toh ebra" the words from their mother was always in their head. They would probably be hearing more of it from her through out the day.

Walking out of the light house they weren't even able to take a step before noticing you on the ground. Taash walked over to you sleeping body. "you good?" they didn't get an answer. "...Are you asleep?".... That was a dumb question obviously you were asleep, but on the ground? seriously? that's gonna kill your back when you wake up.

Looking around they thought, should they take you to bed? the grounds pretty uncomfortable no matter how peaceful and cute you looked sleeping on Assan.

Before Taash could process their thoughts they were already picking you up from the ground, trying their best not to wake you.

They pushed the light house doors open with their back and quietly climbed up the stairs. Until one of them creaked to loudly and you immediately began to stir form your sleep.

"what- uh Taash?" "....sup" "what are you doing..?" Taash looked away from your face and instead faced off to the side "taking you to bed.. duh" "but why?" "sleeping on the ground is gonna kill your back. So im taking you to your room." they said very matter of factly, continuing up the stairs.

"... you could have just woken me up you know" you said heat rushing up on your checks. They were holding you like you were nothing more than a few grapes. "Yeah but then that defeats the purpose of you sleeping in the first place"

now you were at you room. Taash slid the door open with their foot, walked in, and laid you down on the couch that had been acting like your bed.

"hey im.. sorry that i woke you" They refused to meet your gaze "no its ok! i probably shouldn't have been sleeping on the ground anyway" "yeah.. next time you can't sleep just come to me, i can make you some tea... do you prefer lavender or ginger?" Taash finally looked at you, a small tinge of pink on their checks. You smiled "surprise me yeah?.. Thanks Taash"

the pink on their checks grew deeper "no problem" they smiled back at you before leaving your room. Leaving you to rest.

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

HOLY SHIT I FINALLY FINISHED THIS. It genuinely took me 3 days to write this. Because this is my first fanfic i wanted to put like maximum effort into this and i really hope you like it.

just a reminder my ask box is open so feel free to send in a request and i will write it for you

other than that i hope you enjoyed and see ya next time

[silkenwinger]

lightning crashes

yellowjackets lite, post plane crash (and post getting shot) johnny soap mactavish x reader.

tw for nothing I think. just touch prone johnny and fishing i guess

part two. read on ao3

It follows.

But you follow, too. In the silence of the forest, you trace the marks on the trees with your eyes. Most of them have to be redone, but they serve their purpose well for now. In the darkness, you can hear a feeble sound, a song perhaps. It’s not appeased anymore, but you have just the solution for it. Some night bird sings, a deadly silent owl. Vermin hunt. 

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

The morning light snakes its way into the old cabin as your eyes open. Next to you, Martha rolls over, unbothered. No need to clock in, after all. You rise from the floor to sit up, and wriggle your little pouch around to fetch a small piece of dry meat. The one ratty bed the cabin holds is always given to whoever is sickest, a proposal you brought up as soon as it was discovered. Everyone had agreed, even though you still felt there was some dissatisfaction with the sleeping arrangements. Hushed whispers and mumbled replies are, all considered, quite nice responses in such a high stress environment, you reason.

You yawn, still half in Hypnos’ trenches, and put the meat piece in your mouth. As you chew the hard meat, a tickling sensation starts to form on your nape. Maybe it’s the neck pain that is natural to have while sleeping on the floor returning, but then it heightens, becomes tangible pressure and heat. You turn sharply and snappy, and the corner of your eye sees what’s touching you.

A tattooed arm, covered by a ton of thin dark hair. Connected to it are wide shoulders, which in turn sustain the sheepish face of Johnny. How did he make it this close to you without you hearing him? He sleeps near the door while you’re next to the opposite side. You swallow your bite.

Raising your eyebrow, you wordlessly question why he’s touching you. Even though it’s a little unexpected, it’s far from unwelcome. You just want to know what ails him. He shakes his head, eyes closed, then twirls his hand around with his index horizontal, then rethinks on it for a second and points to the door instead. You nod, but hold your hand up a second, and make the twirling motion yourself. Toilet first before any decisional meeting. Standing on the tip of your toes, you grab your blanket and carefully avoid the bodies on the floor to exit the cabin. Johnny follows, eerily silent. You expect him to wait for you near the entrance, but instead he doesn’t seem to catch the hint. Sending him a glance, you make for the usual patch of trees you usually use in the morning, but still, he follows.

“Um, Johnny?”

“Yeah?”

“I, uh, have to go to the toilet.”

“I figured.” He only says, like that’s an explanation on why he’s trailing after you.

“So… we can talk later. Give me just a minute.”

“Can’t we talk while you do it?” The question actually floors you. Your mouth gapes while you try to find an appropriate answer to what he just asked of you.

“No, I don’t think that’s right,” your face heats as you even consider it, “really, I’ll be with you in a second.”

“Hmm. What if there’s something out there, and it catches you off guard? Awful way to go.” He sounds pretty jolly for someone insinuating there’s something out there that can just kill you while you have your pants around your ankles, but nevertheless. 

“I’ll stay close. Don’t worry,” and again, be more assertive!, “I won’t repeat it. Stay there.” The voice coming out of you almost doesn’t sound like yours, but you like that. Enough being walked over by everyone. Johnny looks as if you just kicked him to the curb, or like a dog that got hit because he dared to ask for scraps at the table. While his expression moves you, big baby blues, he’ll be fine and you both know it. Some limits have to be established.

As you return from doing your business, you find him leaning against the cabin’s wall, whistling. As soon as he sees you, he peels away from it and gets closer.

“Everything alright?” He has the gall to ask. 

“Splendid. What did you want to talk about?” You snuggle in your blanket.

“Let’s go by the river.”

The cold bites your cheeks as you walk together. The same way as always, the closer from the general crash site and cabin. It must be around five, five and a half, for everyone but you two to be still asleep. 

“Did you dream tonight?” Johnny breaks the silence first, not uncommonly.

“I think so, yes. I remember walking, and walking, and walking again. It felt like I was going in circles, and my feet and back hurt.”

“That’s because you don’t exercise enough.” 

You roll your eyes. He can get preachy fast, and not everyone is a gym buff anyway.

“Anyway, my back hurt so much, and since I wasn’t going anywhere I decided to stop a bit.”

“If I was there I could have given you a massage.”

“Sure. Well, as I was sitting there, a wolf came out of the blue. It was huge, and black, and I thought he was going to eat me whole like in Little Red Riding Hood. But he came close to me and smelled me instead.”

“Nice wolf.”

“Then it kinda became a person and gave me a hamburger. The dream got foggy before that though, I think I was just hungry.” You flatten your arms back to your sides.

“Hmm. What do you think it means?” You shrug your shoulders. You’ve had weird dreams for as long as you lived, and you could be dreaming much worse stuff than some allegorical fable.

“Did you? Dream.”

He hums a bit and tightens his eyes, like it hurts to remember.

“I dreamt about something I did back at my old job,” he says, still looking towards the river, which is much closer now. He brought a net with him, with the intention to fish breakfast, and he drops a bucket on the ground. It's really just luck based. You might go back to the cabin with nothing to account for.

He continues talking. “But it wasn’t a memory. It was like I was there and living it again, but things kept going differently than they really did. You know what I mean?” You nod. Who hasn’t dreamt their life was out of their control? Like a rope that slips out of your hands no matter how hard you try to hold it, the other end held too strong.

You arrive at the bank and start removing your shoes.

“Nay, bonnie, I’ll do it myself.”

“Don’t be silly, let me help.”

Henry, the oldest man in the group, had come up with a way to fish, so to speak. Using the nets from the luggages and stitching them together, then tying it to two big sticks. Hard to catch any real big fish, but considering hunting doesn’t always bring something to eat back, at least some freshwater crabs are better than nothing. You bend down to fold over your pants at least a bit, but then realize they’re too tight to really fold more than mid calf. Putting your hands on your hip, you steal a glance at Johnny. His pants are off.

“Oh,” you whisper. He raises his head hearing your voice, tilting it to the right after. His thighs are still so ridiculously big, and hairy, that you avert your eyes out of pure shame. You’d think he’d lose muscular mass with the scarcity of food, but it barely made a dent so far. You turn your back to him and look vaguely in the direction of the cabin. Breathe in, breathe out. You can do this. You slide your pants off, shivering a bit. God, you hope the panties you’ve got on aren’t the stained ones. Goose bumps all over, you jump a little on the spot, noticing the splashing sounds of Johnny entering the water have stopped. Worried something might be wrong, you turn back with your hands splayed on your front.

Johnny is deadly still in front of you, net halfway through the dark river water. He keeps looking up, and then down at your legs, and then at your middle. Embarrassed by his gawking, you clear your throat and hold out an arm for him to pass one stick. He does so wordlessly after blinking once.

“Soon, it will be too cold to do this daily,” you bemoan to Johnny as you start dragging the net near the bed of the river. He sighs.

“Aye. We need to kill something big, and then store it like Henry said. We’ll make a pelt out of it too.”

“Yeah. We are going to need it.”

On Johnny’s one two three count, you quickly bring the net out of the river. You two get closer to inspect the catch. On the mismatched patchwork of nets, there lies an assembly of creatures. Two shads, one little bigger than a nail. Two big, unidentified fish, hopefully not too sick. Three crawfish of different sizes. You hold a wide hand up with a smile, and Johnny high fives it so hard you almost take a step back. Instead of retracting, he holds your hand in his big paw, and takes his other arm to push you flush against him by the waist. He hugs you with a tight grip, the drops of water falling from his legs onto yours, and you reciprocate the embrace, running your hands on the expanse of his back. His arms feel… like nothing else before, you think.

“You still haven’t told me what you wanted to talk about,” you tell him as you wait for your body to dry, sitting on the grass and jiggling your feet. Johnny has progressively gotten closer to you as the seconds passed. At least he emits constant heat. His thigh brushes against yours.

“It’s about those three fuckers,” he says stretching his neck left and right. His beard has grown a bit: he’ll probably cut it with that one shiv that always makes you nervous.

“They’re not going to have a nice time.” You sit with that for a few seconds, waiting for an explanation that doesn’t come.

“You say that because…?”

He scratches the side of his head. “Remember when we left you guys and went around? And we found the cabin?” You nod. They were gone for just a day, but it had felt like years, hidden under the metal piece and hoping it wouldn’t be too cold during the night.

“They mostly just followed my input, y’know? I mean, I have a little more experience in places like these. I tell ‘em to make signs on the trees so they can figure out where they’re going. Child’s play, right? And they do it. Except maybe they’re doing it wrong, because at some point I realise on my own that we are going nowhere, but the trees have nothing on them, and they look a bit different too.”

“I turn around to tell them what’s up and there’s no one there. Now, it’s not exactly full of explorers and bravehearts here, so I doubt George would ever willingly go off on his own. I start hearing weird stuff, too,” he brushes his forehead, eyes down, “but I push through it and start yelling for them. I managed to find them at the end, and they tell me I was there one second and then I wasn’t.”

The story has you wrinkling your eyebrows. “So you got lost?” 

He scoffs. “I don’t get lost.”

“Okay. Most of them were probably still shaken from the crash. Not all of us jump from helicopters and are fine after,” you joke to lighten the mood. Seeing Johnny pensive is actually a bit upsetting. He smiles, and everything is back to normal, you think.

“I do agree with you that they’re not going to have a good time, though. Not that I want them to get hurt,” you rush to explain yourself, “but it feels like they don’t have a clear idea of what to do. And they’re very upset you’re not going with them. But if they get us help I’m all for it.”

Johnny squints at that. “Someone give you a hard time?” He asks, tone cold. You don’t know how he has come to that conclusion, maybe Martha told him after, but you shrug. You’re in a compassionate mood, and Oliver is going away in any case, left to this forest that makes even a cold blooded soldier hear things. Plus, he probably insults people in his sleep.

You rub your legs to warm them up as you get up to put your pants back on. As you slide them on, you feel Johnny’s gaze on you. Without looking back, you simply say, “Let’s go cook breakfast.”

When you return to camp, you see that Martha and Henry have started the outside fireplace.

“Good morning,” you tell them, and then open your arms and point to show off Johnny behind you, who’s still holding the net and the bucket (he wouldn’t let you hold one). 

“Oh, nice,” says Martha, and she sneaks a look into the bucket. The poor creatures are still moving around, crawfish trying to climb up the walls to no avail. 

“Good job, you two,” says Henry, and you preen under the older man’s praise. He used to be quite the outdoors man himself, but then he got into a bad hike and hurt his leg. He still limps and needs a cane. And now he’s stranded in some unknown region… Some people just have misfortune after misfortune.

You leave the killing of the creatures to other people. You can and have done it before, but you’re still a bit squeamish, and your part was done in catching them. Sitting down, you warm your hands at the fire.

Later, you split one of the two fish in three between you, Johnny and Aurora, who’s still recovering inside. It tastes like mud, all you’ve caught so far do, but if you close your eyes and distract yourself enough it’s like eating a fish stick, or very vaguely smoked salmon (thanks to the fire). 

The three wise men exit the cabin. They’re wearing jackets and holding backpacks on their shoulders, and you turn to wave them over. Oliver holds a rifle in his hand: it’s the oldest one. Maybe Johnny had to do some gaslighting to convince him to take that. You’ve saved the other big fish for them, some much needed proteins for the journey.

“Thank you,” say Chris and George when you pass them a piece. Oliver only nods when you do the same to him, which prompts a glare from Johnny. Whatever.

“We are going to try and go the opposite way. From the plane, I mean,” explains Chris, and Johnny hums under his breath.

“The forest is pretty thick in that part,” says Johnny, “it’s why we decided to go the other way the first time.”

“Yes,” interrupts Oliver, “but here it’s more sparse and there’s still nothing.”

“We are also going to leave a new message on the airplane,” twitters George.

There’s already a huge SURVIVORS IN CABIN NORTH engraved in the biggest intact part of the plane, the one where most of you were sitting. What possibly more could rescuers need to know?

“We are going to write that we are starving, and there’s people who need medical help,” continues George. Martha mutters a “no shit” between breaths and Oliver actually snarls at her. This causes a chain of events: Martha calls him some name, Johnny gets up, Henry busies himself cleaning the crawfish, and you just observe.

“Enough,” says Johnny, resolute and authoritative. It’s no use telling Oliver that if he wants to eat he needs to actually search for food: he can’t even be thankful for other people’s care. What his ass needs is to fight some animal in the wild instead of taking it on you guys, and see what comes out of it.

With peace of mind knowing you’ll have the rage prone dude out of your feet from some days, you wish the three of them good luck.

[boothillssugarmomma]

Just some thoughts about Husband!Childe

18+ MDNI

Mostly gender neutral, reader never has pronouns mentioned but has female anatomy!

Sfw!

Husband!Childe who can't believe you're his. He didn't waste any time to propose, making the decision as soon as you met Teucer in Liyue. You'd acted so kind and you hadn't fussed about the millions of questions Teucer had. And that's all he needed to make sure you were the perfect one. (Not that you weren't already)

Husband!Childe who takes any chance he can get to help you relax. Running baths for you, massaging your shoulders, taking care of errands. You name it, he does it. Even if he's busy with Fatui business he takes time to carefully take care of what's his. You feel a little bad but then he always assures you: He wants to.

Husband!Childe who really wants kids with you. He can't stop thinking about it. But it's not his fault! He just can't help it! Really he's tried! But seeing you laugh and giggle with Teucer and make him feel at home when he visits? Fills his head with all sorts of fantasies of you pregnant, swollen with his baby. The same baby that you'll laugh with when he comes home, squealing as he opens the door. And he can't get it out of his head. He desperately wants kids with you.

Husband!Childe who spoils you with pretty gifts. Anything from jewelry to trinkets you enjoy, clothes to specialty foods, anything you want his pretty little thing gets. After he comes home from work he always slides something on the kitchen table as he watches you making dinner. Seeing his love work hard for him makes everything worth it..

Husband!Childe who shows you off to EVERYONE. And he means everyone. His subordinates, his fellow Harbingers, Zhongli, The Traveler, hell even when he was in prison in Fontaine he kept talking about you his lovely lover.

Nsfw!

Husband!Childe who begs you one night to let him fuck a baby into you while he's massaging your stomach. You hadn't asked why until he blurted it out. His eyes are filled with lust and love as he waits for your answer. The second you say yes he pounces and rips your clothes off, throwing them to the floor with haste.

Husband!Childe who pumps unrelenting into you, listening to you babble and moan as you take him so fucking nicely. Your ankles resting on his hips as he drills into you. He can't stop thinking about filling you up with his cum, getting you undoubtedly pregnant.

Husband!Childe who teases you until you can't think. His words messing with your thinking. "That's it sweet thing..a-ah yes..gonna make you a m-mommy.." He hisses as he slowly pushes into your slick again. "S-So tight honey..relax a bit.." He breathes as he leans down to nibble on your ear as he humps forward in and out of you.

Husband!Childe who speeds up a bit as your breath hitches. You're close, and so is he, so why not finish together? "So g-good sweetheart..just a f-few more minutes baby cmon you can do it!" He whines softly in your ear. As the soft plap plap plaps hit his ears he lets out a low moan, thrusting in one more time as you both let out high pitched whines and moans.

Husband!Childe who notices some of his cum leaking out as he pulls out, clicking his tongue. "Now, now darling..that-" He scoops some of it onto his fingers, sliding them into your cunt. "Needs to stay inside.."

--

Husband!Childe who genuinely loves you and cares for you. And he always will. When your baby finally is born he takes the baby out of the delivery room to let you rest. "Hmm..you look just like them.." He whispers to the baby. The baby in question can barely even open his eyes. But Childe knows, those eyes are yours. "Now.. I'm going to tell you ALLLL about how great your mommy is~" He teases and starts his stories.

Yeah..life will be just fine. He has you, and this cute little baby. He couldn't ask for more.

[luvbug724]

kevin and renee don’t have many big moments in the books i don’t think but there are some painfully domestic or sweet parts like during andrew’s stay in easthaven when kevin and renee (and nicky) slept together on the floor (which i’ve deluded myself into thinking is kevrenee content). also when she meets jean for the first time she has her arm locked with kevin’s :) and she’s the only fox kevin allows to hug him (or at least the first who tries) :) and her begging for his help when she was going to take jean… this is just off the top of my head but i believe they would be good because renee is very reliable and strong and i think when she lets more edge shine through kevin would be really enamored by her :)!

i know you have a catholic jean streak but i also love for kevin and renee a bonding moment because i believe kayleigh was catholic 🤏 my reasoning for this is that during the kathy interview neil notes kevin audibly praying under his breath (adorable to me). so i think she could also get him to reconnect with faith and the idea of a religious community as a whole…. renee is like if andrew was a better influence and a lot more charming

also hiii its dayurno 🖐️🖐️ SORRY ABOUT THE PREVIOUS ANON i was just like what if they think kevjeanee sucks actually and i should explode and die. but it wasnt the case yay! hello :D

ay dios mio... im slipping i should've remembered those i blame the jean brainrot he's pushing out the og trilogy. UR SO RIGHT. renee and jean meeting for the first time while renee and kevin have their arms linked is literally all the reasoning i need. i'm on board. kevjeanee is a FULL TRIANGLE

i am all for catholic Everyone. ESPECIALLY in the nest theres something delicious to me about them maintaining a belief system that simultaneously tells them that they deserve everything they're going through and it is all for the light at the end of the tunnel. if god is truly benevolent then why must i go through this for my happy ending. Whatever. kevin i think picked up catholicism actually kind of similar to renee vs jean "sunday mass his entire childhood" moreau bc kevin was much much much younger when he went to the nest like he was 6 at that point he wouldn't really remember kayleigh much less catholicism. which now i am thinking about kevin going to mass at psu and meeting renee there by accident. HELLOOOOOO

i've also got to thinking about kevjeanee housekeeping now & i know logically it would make the most sense for the moriyamas to give them a scary mafia accountant to a) make their taxes line up for the IRS and b) make sure jean and kevin aren't skimping the moriyamas any payments but this answers the age old jeanee question: if I'M dyslexic and YOU'RE dyslexic then WHO is doing the taxes!!!

[unproduciblesmackdown]

already was musing on how like, here's an intro that's Establishing Things, and it's like, does it matter that we were given a quants interaction of winston being like "hey you were nice to me there, actually. it reminds me of how" only for rian to pull the nice maneuvers of not wanting to listen to him share anything, being willing to just issue an order to someone about what he gets to do (talk for ten seconds) and doing so, then some underwhelming flair used to insult him surely, i guess that he's so stupid(tm) or whatever. like, wondering does that mean anything really that that was just about rian being an asshole, as has been sprinkled in before, just little moments that deadend with winston just feeling Disheartened b/c rian was shitty for no reason. does it mean anything that she did anything for the quant duo before that in refusing a chance to not sit next to him. theoretically just a [we're still tmc] kind of choice to stick together, and sure didn't move her to even treat him like a person she dislikes, just a nonperson she also dislikes

and relatedly it's going to be just as hilarious as rian, what, implying winston hasn't heard / of the french language, that the theory that rian and dollar bill become some kind of duo based on being Hilarious(tm) but also just terrible to any & everyone and bullying people has only more plausible, And that this episode of billions' introduction / establishment of dollar bill is decidedly centered around "yeah nobody likes this guy or can stand to deal with him. not even the people paid to be there, not even the self-declared Too Nice guy who kept choosing hanging out with dollar bill & his bullying over working & hanging out with his friend taylor" so it sure doesn't seem like that's leaving much room for [oh that was an oversight] if dollar bills going to fuck off into mpc hq on the regular and rian's immediately going to be like of course i can roll with this fuckin asshole

and truly a distillation of "rian's supposedly gets the 'good' treatment of More Material & being taken more seriously by other characters, but this only meant that instead of any sense of character &/or her own actual subplots ever, she's whatever a different more prominent character needs for their plot at any given time; winston's peripheral funny little guy unimportance & insulting treatment is still so much better re: being a character" if winston gets the worst treatment of being shoved out of mpc by episode three and rian is graced with hanging around most or all season only to be judged & condemned to now have that loss of [quant duo] replaced with being insufferable bullying horrible person dollar bill's New Friend and like, right away, with ease. and like i was saying like i would not argue with that, if rian had the consistent principle of treating anyone with basic respect she wouldn't be treating winston as a nonperson, and of course she has a broader capacity for being an asshole to anyone at any point that's just drier and less [outbursts of physical aggression] than dollar bill's style.

no idea what rian's overall arcs could be when yknow, why is she here, why has she stayed here, her most relevance right now gets to be "has the dialogue capacity to talk about getting prince with a sex scandal. also has zero thoughts on how power factors into one rather than that you just need to be polite about it?" which only feels truly character specific when held up against "rian was supposedly bullied but also Above even hating the people who did it. but she is also a bully and not even especially emotionally detached about it, even though how she treats winston is more important than how she feels about it" like basically "also a bully" is her most coherent deal. and it's just Interesting that simply being mean to winston is again basically pointed out, and her future bestie or [put in the same shots duo status] dollar bill is Impending but the episode was like "yeah of course everyone hates this guy, for being awful" and the joke nonjoke the whole time that unfortunately rian might get along just fine with bill as workplace (and probably also life in general, it's not a honed strategy they limit to the office) bullies

so that That's what rian gets for getting to stick around, while winston Might get to be shoved out of the fund hq with any character flair from him and, i do unfortunately have to wonder harder now, maybe any relevance afforded to the way people have treated him, indeed maybe rian especially, his personal bully and abusive friend. and because other people also see rian as better than him & maybe also winston as [not a person], if winston does anything that's indeed deliberately petty, mean, Angry, etc, towards rian, That will be seen as unacceptable vs the yknow checks notes years of cruel interpersonal treatment from rian to winston, but nothing hangs in the balance on that front, people won't suddenly be like "nice. winston's a person to me now, which, why am i even in a position to Decide that" if he's shoved out & goes quietly & politely and creates no problems in return. and, very much like dollar bill, i don't think rian will change, but for winston's own sake it would be Heartening if he voices his experience such that we know he knows it was bullshit, even though of course rian, and probably anyone else, isn't going to choose to listen past 5 seconds, least of all when he's clearly indicating a general state of irritation. rooting for flair and idiosyncrasy for him and indeed that the best sources for that could be with taylor, please, the person he's always been here for, rian, the person for years now bullying him more than she does anyone else or more than anyone else does to winston, and even fun if there's anything with tuk his apparent genuine friend tuk, and by "fun" i mean "such a delight i daren't really think much abt it From Canon"

anyways the tl;dr i suppose is that winston getting apparently thrown away in the first third of the season is insulting treatment but rian getting to stay and be dollar bill's wretched bestie is truly the worse fate and basically that distillation of like. oh winston's bringing it on himself he's so annoying nobody likes him, while in actuality all the ways he's never fit in or done things "right" and how he would never have been hired if taylor hadn't done it are all compliments and endorsements. while rian's been viewed as a capable valuable person by all from the start and treated as Better Than even others who are still also seen people, but her "success" and the shit she gets to continue to do in how she treats people b/c nothing about being at work stops that and some things facilitate & reward it, see: also dollar bill being around the whole time & now also back, definitely include treating a friendly coworker any which way, which she usually chooses to be: badly. and of course shoutout to the thread of taylor being like "if you stay btw you'll probably get all fucked up" but like also rian just Brought the [i'm a bully but it's fine when i do it. it's bad when it happens to Me] stance from the start, but like, obviously always the opportunity to get worse and just be left off with that implication of Never Trying To Learn, just like your new good friend dollar bill

real tl;dr As Fates Go winston being shitted on & fired / driven to quit >>>>>>>> rian sticking around, befriending dollar bill. and like not in the way i'm arguing that the fate is worse like In Conceptual Quality. it's just a hell of a potential condemnation / indirect illustration of like, here's this person it's horrible to be around, here's a reminder rian is cruel to this coworker on a dime anytime, here's rian deciding the horrible person is Alright anyways. maybe they'll be busy with a bullying power struggle the whole time. and maybe winston will get to appear outside the fund actually. just really something to be going like "oh my god lmao rian and dollar bill might actually be specifically getting along well as fellow [be horrible to coworkers] bullies and assholes who feel Above It, it being many other people, this being a kind of requirement there" and to be wondering if billions will make this fact that rian's job is being an asshole more relevant at all, if even to be like yeah leaving off with a lost cause here, including that i really doubt winston can Get Through To her even with his ability & willingness to air his grievances, and like, as though oh actually winston brought it upon himself b/c rian just didn't knowww, that's on him and his visible pain & verbal expressions of that pain & requests that she stop which Weren't Enough, and as though maintaining that onesided dynamic for bullying and demeaning and shutting down and abusing was like an unconscious accidental coincidence every time and not its own Active Process, regardless of what the other person does or doesn't do, and with the agenda of maintaining that [i'm the person who chooses how things go; they're the object that reacts accordingly like it's laws of physics level of demands of reality] one-sided relationship, so they'd only just be looking to react to what that other person does or doesn't do in ways that serve those purposes anyway. sometimes rian's "nicer" but she's still the one deciding how everything goes, winston can only roll with it like a ball at the top of a ramp like, of course, unquestionable. cue space winston, zero gravity

haha another tl;dr. winston being disposed of is a warmer Fate to assign a character than rian's potential "of course she's friends with dollar bill now" like lmfao Ouch. but yeah of course.

[mommypieck]

⌗︙・being sukuna's favorite ⸜⸜・

being sukunas favorite in his harem is the biggest honor you could get. as much as you are aware that he fucks someone different every day, you know that at the end of the day, he's gonna come back to you.

"did you stretch that pussy for me?" he asks you, circling your kneeling body on the floor. you're not like the other sluts, he likes you so you can be a little rude.

"yeah, fucked with lots." you reply, smiling cheekily at him. his eyes turn red and he pushes one of his feet in between your legs.

"is that so?" you nod at his question. your hips start to move on his foot, trying to get some relief. if zou were someone else, you would have your head blown off.

"get off my foot." sukuna grits his teeth. he's sure you are joking but he can't help to feel jealousy boiling in his stomach. you lay on the ground in front of him, opening your legs to show him your wet entrance. he's starting to get angry with you know, what made you act this way?

he doesn't waste any time sinking into your tight heat and you suddently feel like you should've stretched yourself for him. he's too big, filling you up to the brim. he's not gentle with your pussy, he's never been and now you made him mad.

"you're still so tight even after so many people fucking you." he jokes, making you giggle. you have to tease him so he doesn't know how easy he can break you.

"i get tighter just for you,king." the nickname makes him moan. he makes everyone call him king but it just sounds sweeter from your lips. he stops his moments to look you deep in the eyes.

"i fuck you good, i breed you every day and i make sure your mouth is fucked. are you really sleeping with other people?"

you smirk at his question. it's funny to see him frustrated because of a stupid joke you made. so many girls claim to be sukuna's favorite but it's certain who's the chosen girl.

"you're my one and only master. now please cum inside me to see how much of your cum i can take."

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Healing Factor

Danny Fenton is a little shit, everyone knows that. Now, consider he is medically inaccurate, but on purpose, and it makes everyone question their life.

Because he has an accelerated healing factor. He is also a ghost and his bones are nonexistent half the time. He may look like a human, he may act like a human, but he is not really one, and he forgets about it sometimes. Or maybe he's just fucking with everyone.

So imagine he got caught up in a fight in Gotham, Crime Alley to be exact, and he fist fought some robbers or muggers or whoever. Then Red Hood comes to save the day, and when he asks this teenage scrawny boy who looks like he doesn't even know what taxes are, is he okay, Danny just

Spits a bloody clot on the floor, looks at it for a moment, and goes, "Oh. That's a tooth," with little to no emotion to it. Jason is now concerned because it kind of looks like the boy is concussed. But that's definitely a tooth on the floor, yes.

"Shouldn't you be more worried about it?"

Danny shrugs nonchalantly, "Why should I? It's gonna grow back."

"What?"

"You know how when you are a baby, your teeth fall out, and then you get new teeth? So since I lost one, a new one's gonna grow out," Danny explains, and Jason is not even sure what to say because, first, no, that's not how it works, and second, who the fuck doesn't know that at fifteen? Has this boy ever been to dentist?

"Kid, no, you only get two sets of teeth," he carefully tells him, "Baby teeth and adult teeth. That's it, no more teeth, you're not a shark."

Danny blinks at him slowly. Then, he reaches inside his mouth with his fingers, touches his teeth, and shrugs, "How come it's back already then?"

Before Jason can ask anything, the boy opens his mouth to reveal a perfect set of teeth. Nothing is missing. He looks back to the floor, and, yup, that's a tooth there.

But no teeth are missing.

What the fuck.

"Wanna keep it to offer to the tooth fairy? No one said she only takes your teeth," the boy asks him.

Later, Danny calls Jazz with a single purpose of telling her he is now a shark and hanging up on her.

[imaginedisish]

Dare (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Hey guys. Just wanted to say thank you for all the support I got this morning. All of your comments really warmed my heart. Thank you so, so, so much. I ended up getting this done pretty fast. Went with "Dare" by Gorillaz for the title. Made me feel better to write. I like this one. Hope you do, too. Enjoy!

Summary: Logan finds out you've never been eaten out while playing a game of "Truth or Dare," and he's more than willing to change that.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!! SMUT!!! Oral (f!receiving), Fingering, softdom!Logan, pussydrunk!Logan (he does not let up, he is starving for you), older!Logan, implied aged gap (reader is in her 20s/old enough to teach at the institute), cocky!Logan, he is an absolute service dom in this, friends to lovers, mentions of mental health/self worth, fluff, some hurt to comfort, some angst, afab/fem!reader, cursing, def some grammatical errors, I think that's it.

Word Count: 4,235 wowza didn't expect that and oh my god this gif

You’re lying on your floor—the door to your room wide open. Everyone is out anyway. It’s Friday night at the mansion—no one will see you like this. Students’ papers are scattered around you. You stare up at the ceiling, feeling choked up. It had been a bad day—a bad week. Maybe even a bad year. You feel like you’re slipping, losing yourself. 

Teaching the older students had become beyond challenging—possibly because you aren’t much older than them in the first place. Most days, it felt like everyone expected greatness from you, given the strength of your powers, which naturally comes with responsibility, and that can be incredibly overwhelming. It had all been—if you were being brutally honest—an absolutely terrible time. 

So, you’re lying on your floor, feeling numb. You stopped grading papers at least an hour ago, and simply decided to stare at the ceiling, your head spinning. You wanted to calm the noise, to take a breather. Luckily, you’re alone—everyone is on a mission or out given that it’s Friday night. 

Or so you thought. 

“What on Earth are you doing?” A familiar voice cuts through the silence like a knife, jarring you, and forcing you to look up. And there he is, in a white t-shirt and denim jeans, arms crossed tightly against his chest, leaning in the doorway. Logan. You want to roll your eyes at how good he looks. You want to slap yourself for thinking it in the first place.

He smirks at you, his brows furrowed playfully. You let your head fall back to the floor. “Grading papers,” you mutter. You can hear his footsteps as he walks into the room, drawing closer to you. 

“Doesn’t look like you’re grading papers to me,” he teases. You can hear the smile in his voice. “Why aren’t you out with Jean or Rogue?” 

He stands next to you, and you look up at him. “Didn’t feel like it,” you mumble, forcing yourself to sit up. You draw your knees into your chest. You decide to turn the question around on him. “Why aren’t you out?”

He sits down next to you, stretching his long legs in front of him, his shoulder bumping against yours as he settles in. He shrugs. “Somebody’s gotta keep an eye on you, right?” He jokes, nudging his elbow into your arm. You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. It’s impossible to fight it when he’s next to you. Your eyes meet his, and his smile quickly turns into something else—concern. “You’ve been off lately.”

You swallow harshly. “Did Jean or Rogue say something?” You ask. They’d notice, maybe they told Logan. “Did they ask you to stay with me or something?”

But Logan shakes his head. “No. I could just tell,” he says, worry clear in his voice. “Thought I’d hang back with you. All my idea.” He tilts his head, his jaw working, his brows furrowing again. “Is something going on?” 

You take a deep breath, turning away from him. You’re suddenly overwhelmed by his presence, by his kindness and his care. He stayed home for you. “I’m okay,” you mutter, avoiding the truth. 

“Hey,” Logan whispers, tentatively reaching his hand to your knee, waiting for you to shove him away. His palm is warm against your skin, calming and stabilizing. You turn back to look at him, his brows raised incredulously. “I know that’s not true,” he says. He has always been able to read you like a book. “What’s going on?”

You swallow harshly. “I’ve just been having a tough time lately,” you say, distracted by the way his thumb brushes across your knee. “I…” You trail off, letting your eyes fall closed. “Things are hard.”

“You can talk about it if you want,” he says, his voice deep and steady. “I’m here.” 

You sniffle, struggling to keep yourself in check. “I just…” you pause, looking off to the side. “Everything sucks.” You take another deep breath. “And the students are so hard.” You point to the piles of papers scattered around your floor. “And then there’s me, and all my shit. My powers. The responsibilities we have. I’m young, and I’m still learning. And fuck, Logan, this all just feels so impossible sometimes. It…it…” You trail off, finally running out of words, out of steam.

“It hurts.” He finishes your sentence, taking the words right out of your mouth. You turn back towards him, your eyes instantly meeting his. “It hurts a lot.”

You nod. “Yeah, exactly.” He squeezes your knee comfortingly. “You get it,” you murmur. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” he soothes, his hand lifting off your knee, his arm wrapping around your shoulder instead. “I’ve got you.” You let yourself lean into his touch, resting your head in the crook of his neck. “Let’s take your mind off things, yeah?”

You nod against him, not wanting to move away, not wanting to separate from him. He feels so nice, so solid. “What did you have in mind?” You ask, hoping it doesn’t involve getting up.

“Wanna play a game?” He offers, turning his head to look down at you. You smile widely, almost mockingly. “What?” He chides. “You think I don’t know how to have fun?”

You laugh softly. “I just don’t see you as a game guy, Lo,” you confess. He chuckles, and you can feel his laughter reverberating through his chest. “Can you even think of one to play?”

Logan’s still laughing, shaking his head. “What about truth or dare?” He ever so slightly pulls you in closer, his lips pressed against the side of your head. 

You giggle, feeling light for the first time in a long time. “Are we in seventh grade?” You ask teasingly. You felt like a teenager, honestly—being next to Logan always made you feel like a love-sick schoolgirl. But you know you and him could never be. You were younger than Logan—everyone was—but you, being in your 20s, assume that Logan doesn’t see you the way you see him. 

He just shakes his head and laughs, pulling you back to reality. “Truth or dare?” He asks, ignoring your middle school comment and officially starting the game. 

You don’t want to get up, don’t want to move an inch, so you answer: “Truth,” hoping it isn’t anything too crazy. 

Logan thinks for a second, his head resting on yours. “Why’d you pick truth instead of dare?” He finally asks. 

You roll your eyes. “Boring!” You tease. “I only picked it because I don’t feel like moving.” And then you realize…perhaps your answer is more revealing than you previously considered. Your heart thunders in your chest. 

Logan hums. “And why don’t you want to move, exactly?” He’s onto you. 

“You asked your question, you got an answer,” you protest, trying to shut him down. “No follow-up questions.” It’s your turn now. “Truth or dare?” You ask. 

“Truth,” he says. “Because maybe I don’t feel like moving either.”

You smile, and you can feel him looking down at you. You’re too nervous to meet his gaze. You think for a moment, racking your brain for a question. “Did you really stay home for me, and was it all your own idea?” You finally ask. You regret the question almost immediately, fearful of the honest answer. 

“Yes,” he responds without a beat. “Jean said you were staying in, and said she didn’t know why, so I stayed too.” He pauses, and you can hear his steady breathing amidst the silence. “I was worried, princess.” The pet name burns a hole through your heart. “Needed to know that you were okay.”

You can feel tears building behind your sinuses. “Thank you, Lo,” you whisper. “That means a lot.”

He presses the ghost of a kiss to the crown of your head—almost not quite there. But you can feel it, hesitant and tentative. “It’s nothing, no need to thank me.” You finally find the courage to look up at him and find him smiling down at you. His lips part. “Truth or dare?” He asks again. 

You can feel some sort of tension brewing, building, thick and heavy. You try to ignore it, try to brush it off. Your heart hammers in your chest. “Truth,” you pick again. “But get a little more creative this time.”

He pauses, the gears in his head turning. And then finally: “Why’s your heart beating so fast? It’s loud, too.” 

Your eyes widen, suddenly remembering Logan’s heightened senses. He can hear everything. “Uh…” You trail off, not sure how to get out of this. “I-It’s not…”

He laughs. “You’re a terrible liar. You know that?” His voice is deep and honeyed, smooth. “You gotta answer the question, or I get to ask another.”

“Those are not the rules!” You protest, lifting your head to look at him. He’s got that shit-eating grin on his face, the one that makes your stomach drop. 

He tugs you into his chest again, his lips at the shell of your ear. “Then answer the question,” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin, sending a chill down your spine. He’s so close. Too close. Your heart is only beating faster, louder now. 

“I don’t know,” you whisper. But of course, you know. It’s all because of him. “Just anxious, I guess.” It’s a half-truth—you’re certainly nervous, but you can’t bring yourself to tell him why. 

“No need to be nervous, sweetheart,” Logan coos, his thumb brushing circles into your shoulder. “It’s just me.”

Yes, exactly, you want to say. It’s you. But you don’t. You try to steady your breathing, try to calm down. “My turn,” you force yourself to say. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” he says darkly. “And make it good.” You can hear the cockiness in his voice—a sudden shift in his tone. 

“We should just call this truth or truth,” you say, mulling over a question in your mind. It’s hard to think with him this close—hard to breathe. You want to rile him up, to find out what makes him tick—to make him itch the way he makes you. And then it hits you: the perfect question. “When was the last time you…” You stop yourself, suddenly too nervous to ask. 

“When was the last time I what, darlin’?” He asks, cocking his head to the side, raising his eyebrows. 

You huff. You’ve fallen into your own trap. There’s no backing out now. “When was the last time…” You pause again, biting your lip. You close your eyes. “…somebody got you off?” 

“Been a while,” he says simply. Your eyes flutter open, and Logan is completely relaxed, his eyes trained on you. He isn’t annoyed. He’s unbothered, unprovoked, as if you had asked him what the weather was going to be like tomorrow. “But it depends on how you mean. So, what do you mean?” He finishes. 

You’re slightly frustrated by how easy it was for him to answer. “I don’t know,” you mutter, shrugging your shoulders. “Whatever the last time was.”

“Few years back, not particularly proud of it,” he huffs. “Girl took care of me in a bar. That was it.” 

You nod. “Must’ve been nice,” you whisper, suddenly feeling a bit disheartened. You catch his drift; you know it didn’t mean anything. You likely didn’t know Logan at that time, having only arrived at the Institute two years ago. You know you shouldn’t feel jealous, shouldn’t care that he was ever with someone else, even for a fleeting moment. You’ve had boyfriends. You’ve been with other people. 

“It was fine. Just a blowjob.” He says it nonchalantly. “Didn’t mean a thing.” You look straight ahead, waiting for him to elaborate. But he doesn’t. “Truth or dare?” He finally asks. 

“Truth.” Your fake, plastered-on smile becomes real when his eyes meet yours. It’s just what happens when you look at him. “And make it interesting.”

The corner of his mouth turns up slyly, and you know he has something up his sleeve. “When was the last time somebody did that to you?” He asks. 

You cock your head to the side. “What do you mean?” But you already know exactly what he’s asking. And you desperately do not want to give him the answer.

“Got you off, like that,” he husks. “With their mouth.”

Fuck. “Uh…” You trail off. You can feel heat spreading across your chest and up your neck, your skin prickling. “Never,” you say honestly. 

“What?” Logan’s voice cuts through the tension like a knife. “Never?”

You’re suddenly embarrassed. Your skin feels tight—so do your shorts and tank top. “Never,” you repeat, looking down at your knees, still pulled in tightly to your chest. Your heart beats rapidly. “Just hasn’t happened yet,” you choke out. “I’ve been with people, but…”

“Hey,” he whispers, suddenly grabbing your chin and angling you up to face him. “It’s okay,” he soothes. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, princess.”

You smile shyly, reveling in his touch. “You didn’t,” you insist honestly. “Just a little embarrassed.”

Logan shakes his head, his eyes softening. “Nothing to be embarrassed about,” he assures. “You deserve to be taken care of.” His hand slides across your jaw and cups the back of your neck. “Deserve to feel good.”

Your eyes flutter closed at his touch. “Lo,” you whisper, struggling to keep your composure. Heat pools between your thighs. “Tr-truth or dare.”

His forehead presses to yours. “I think we’re done with the game, pretty girl,” he rasps, the arm around your shoulder slipping down to your waist. “Unless I get to give you a dare this time.”

“What’s the dare?” You ask, your eyes fluttering back open. His lips are so close. Your noses touch softly.

He works his jaw, licking his lips. “Let me eat you out, pretty girl,” he pants, his chest heaving against yours. “Let me take care of you like you should’ve been already.” He hates the idea that you’ve never been touched properly, the idea that those younger guys didn’t know how to treat you right. But he can fix that. He can make you feel good.

“Fuck,” you curse, his breath fanning across your lips. “A-are you sure?” You ask. “I don’t want you to do it just because you feel bad for me or—” “You think that’s what this is about?” He cuts you off, pulling you closer so that your body faces his, your thighs slotting together like puzzle pieces. “You think I want this just because I feel bad for you?”

“Well…” You search his eyes. “Yes,” you say. 

Logan’s face falls, and he shakes his head. “I want you, pretty girl,” he pants, his knee rubbing against your aching core. “Wanted you this whole time.” His palm presses firmly against your back, his other hand gripping your neck tighter. He wants, no, needs you closer. “You ruined me the second I saw you. Haven’t been with anyone since then.”

“Logan,” you whisper, bringing your hands up to his neck. “I want you too. Always have,” you confess.

He smiles, his lips pressing a chaste kiss to yours. “Then let me do this for you,” he rasps, almost begging, like he needs this more than you do. “Need to make you feel good, beautiful.” “Please,” you breathe. “Want you so bad, Lo.”

He curses under his breath, his lips capturing yours, harder this time. This kiss is starving, all-consuming. His tongue swipes across your lower lip, and you open your mouth, inviting him inside. He lowers you down carefully, sure not to break the kiss, guiding your back to the wood floor below. 

His thighs rest on either side of your hips as he hovers over you, bracing himself with his forearm. His free hand trails up your body, exploring your curves, hiking your shirt above your breasts. He smirks against your lips at the realization that you have no bra on. 

“Look at you,” he mumbles, rolling a nipple under his thumb, palming your breast. “Fucking perfect.” His fingertips drag to the other side, massaging you gently, taking your nipple between his thumb and forefinger and pinching softly. “Can smell you, you know,” he grunts. “Know you’re soaking for me, darlin’.”

His hand slides between the valley of your breasts, trailing down your stomach, until his fingertips bump into the waistband of your panties. He hesitates, looking down at you, waiting for you to change your mind, to tell him to stop. “Please,” you beg. “Need you, Lo.”

Logan smirks, his hand slipping under the hem of your shorts and inside your panties. “Love it when you call me that, sweetheart,” he groans. His fingertips flick your clit gently before finding your folds, feeling your arousal. “Barely even touched you,” he tuts. “And she’s already crying for me.”

He prods your entrance, spreading your slick, teasing you. He bites your lips, sucking so hard he might bruise—might draw blood—and you hope he does. You want proof that he was here, proof that he wants you—needs you this badly. You moan as his fingers find your clit again, drawing a few soft circles before pulling away, his hand slipping out of your shorts. 

You grab his biceps needily, impatiently, your nails digging into his skin. “Don’t stop,” you cry out. “Please, Logan.” 

He swallows your moans with another kiss, his lips trailing down to your jaw, then your neck—that sensitive spot just under your ear. “Don’t worry, pretty girl,” he soothes, biting down on your pulse point, licking the hollow of your throat. “Don’t think I could stop if I tried.” He nips at your collarbone, shoving your tank top further up your chest as his lips drag down the valley of your breasts. 

He kisses his way to your stomach, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down your legs. His palms spread across your inner thighs, yanking them apart. He settles between them, his face just inches from your heat. He presses a chaste kiss to your clit, still all too clothed, hidden behind your panties. 

“Lo,” you whine. He breathes you in, pressing another kiss to your clit. He digs his fingers into the hem of your panties, slowly pulling them down your legs. 

“Wanna take my time with you, sweetheart,” he grunts, finally throwing your panties to the side. He spreads your legs wider, his face settling back between your thighs. You can feel his breath against your cunt, warm and teasing. “Wanna take care of you.” His lips finally find your clit again, and he licks at you. 

His tongue is soft, warm, wet. He laps at you again, harder this time, and you moan his name. “Fuck,” you curse as he licks a long stripe through your folds and back up to your clit, flicking the bud. Your legs twitch, your hips backing away involuntarily at the newfound pleasure. Logan’s hands slide under your ass, yanking you back to his face. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” He mumbles teasingly against you, the vibration of his deep, bassy voice rocking your core. “Not letting you go until I’m done with you, darlin’.”

You curse under your breath as he licks another long, slow stripe through your folds before settling on your clit. His tongue draws gentle circles around the bud, and you can’t hold back the loud moan that falls from your lips. 

“Yeah?” Logan husks between laps. “Feels good, pretty girl?”

“Y-yes,” you stammer, looking down at Logan, his face buried against your cunt. His eyes are trained on yours, watching your every move, taking in the way you’re squirming for him. “D-didn’t know it would feel this good, Lo.”

“Gonna try something, okay?” He says, his eyes searching yours. You nod emphatically, bracing yourself. His lips wrap around your clit, his teeth lightly grazing the bud as he pulls it into his mouth. And then he sucks, hard. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, your back arching off the floor.

He releases the bud, and does it again, sucking harder this time. Tears brim at the corners of your eyes, pleasure coursing through your veins. “Logan!” You cry out, your nails digging into the floor below, searching for purchase. “Fuck!” He laps at you soothingly, drawing tighter, faster circles around your clit. 

“You okay?” He coos between laps, his tongue swirling rapidly. 

You swallow, meeting his gaze again. The sight of him between your legs, working your clit, his hair a disheveled mess—it’s overwhelming. “Yeah,” you heave. “More than okay.”

He smirks against you and wraps his lips around your clit again, sucking on the bud like hard candy. His right hand slides out from under your ass, trailing up your inner thigh. Your heart thunders in your chest as his fingertips find your folds, spreading your slick, your walls clenching down around nothing. 

“Know you need ‘em, pretty girl,” Logan croons, two fingers nudging your entrance. “Beg for it.”

But he’s sucking on your clit again, making it impossible to say a word. You whimper, your legs trembling. “P-please,” you stutter, choking on air. “Need…” You trail off, your eyes fluttering closed. You swallow harshly. “Need your fingers, Lo,” you finally manage. 

“That’s a good girl,” he praises, shoving two fingers deep inside you, down to his knuckles. 

“Fuck, thank you,” you whine, moaning his name as his fingers stretch you out. You suddenly feel so full, so warm, so close. He pulls out, only to plunge back in, deeper this time. He’s lapping at you with reckless abandon—a man starved, like you’re the air he needs to breathe. Your walls flutter around him, the liquid heat in your lower belly threatening to burst. 

“Tastes so good,” Logan mumbles against you, his long, thick fingers thrusting in and out. He hits that sweet spot deep inside you with every pump. “Such a sweet little pussy. Tastes better than I imagined.” You’re crumbling underneath him. His words alone might push you over the edge. “Nothing compares to you, you know that?”

Your walls flutter again, his fingers sinking deeper inside you. “You like that?” Logan husks. “Like knowing how much I want you? How much I need you?”

“Yes,” you groan, his fingers fucking into you, faster now. His teeth graze your clit as he pulls the bud back into his mouth and sucks roughly. “N-need you, too. Always.” 

“I know, pretty girl,” he soothes, scissoring inside you, dragging along your walls. He laps at you, his tongue stroking your clit. “Not going anywhere. I’ve got you.”

You curse under your breath. You can feel yourself melting, your walls contracting and releasing. “Lo,” you call. “I’m so close. Wanna…” You trail off, unable to finish. 

“Can feel you squeezing me, sweetheart,” he breathes. “Don’t hold back. Let it happen,” he coaches, rocking into you. “Wanna taste you, wanna feel you come on my fingers.” He laps at you between sentences. “Come for me. Know you can do it.” And then everything is white-hot and blazing.

It’s earth-shattering—better than anything has ever felt before. The tension snaps, heat boiling under your skin. Everything is blurry, hazy, dizzied as you let go, and let go hard. You cry out Logan’s name, your thighs shaking as waves of pleasure drag you under. Your bones are burning, scorching. Everything is on fire—overwhelming and greedily all-consuming. 

Logan’s pumps slow, and he carefully pulls out of you. He laves at you, his tongue pushing through your folds, milking you dry, savoring every last drop. 

“Logan,” you whisper, your hands reaching down to his head, digging your fingers into his scalp. 

He hums against you, unwavering as his tongue laps at your folds, tasting your release. 

You’re still shaking, still coming down from your high. “Logan,” you call again, and he looks up this time, lifting his face from your cunt. Your release glistens on his chin, and he licks his lips clean of you. His eyes are dark, his palms squeezing your thighs possessively. 

“I’m not done yet, sweetheart,” he says, demand clear in his voice. 

Your heart flutters in your chest as he climbs up your body, hovering over you again. His lips find yours. “You taste that?” He mumbles, kissing you again, harder this time. “You taste how sweet you are?”

“Y-yes,” you answer, his hand sliding down your body, slipping between your legs, finding your overstimulated clit. 

He pinches the bud lightly, your back arching off the ground, your breasts pressing to his all-too-clothed chest. “Need more of you,” he husks, his hand dragging back up your body. He sits up and pulls you into his chest, taking all your weight as he hoists you up and stands. You instinctually wrap your legs around his waist. 

He places you in the center of your bed before striding across the room, closing and locking your bedroom door. “They’ll all be home soon,” Logan says, walking back towards you, spreading your legs and settling between your thighs. “Might have to be quiet for me, darlin’.”

“W-what do you—”

And then his face is buried deep inside your cunt, his tongue lapping desperately at your clit. “I told you,” he rasps. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

tags: @wittyjasontodd @wolverinesslut @galacticglitterglue @silversprings-mp3 @zxaera @spiderset @figsnpassionfruits @alastorssimp @alsoprettyinpink @prettyseaveins @ilysmdovie12 @evasmlp @derbygracie @rammakela @honeyfewr @ricefordays-blog1 @manipulatour

[furylad]

I fucking hate living with people man

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ FINDERS KEEPERS, LOSERS WEEPERS! ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ streamer!au: the user "gojoslittleslut" tries to make a move on your boyfriend, but she doesn't stand a chance

contents: fem!reader. it's not too serious, nobody gets angry/jealous (except the comments lol). if u haven't already read the other streamer!gojo works u probably should so u understand the dynamic between satoru and his commenters !

author's note: reader is actually a mature person who doesn't pick fights with random ppl on the internet and i think we should all be more like her ꨄ︎

satoru leans back in his chair, idly chatting with people who pop up in his comments after he finishes his last round of the co-op game. his viewers are eager to chat, and some even shoot money satoru's way to draw his attention. whenever someone donates money, he gives them a quick shoutout and has a small back-and-forth with them, and he does that for everyone.

that is, until a user with a questionable username donates to his stream.

gojoslittleslut has donated $100.00!

gojoslittleslut: notice me pls

"shit, a hundred dollars?" satoru says, raising his eyebrows in mild surprise. "thanks, gojoslittl— oh, fuck, what is that?"

you look up from your laptop and see the way your boyfriend's cheeks have gone bright red. satoru laughs a bit nervously, so you get up and walk over, making sure to stay out of sight of the camera. you sit on satoru's desk beside his computer and peer at his screen curiously.

gojoslittleslut: im ur number one fan~

satoru's eyes flicker to yours for a second before he looks back at his monitor. "ah, well, thanks for the donation!" he replies, completely ignoring the user's advances.

suguru-geto: he has a gf ...

gojoslittleslut: yeah

gojoslittleslut: me

you cover your mouth to suppress a giggle, scrunching up your nose at satoru to let him know that you really weren't taking it too seriously. after all, it's just some random person on the internet—they don't stand a chance with your boyfriend. 

satoru reaches over and takes your hand, twining his fingers with yours off-camera. he ignores the sudden burst of comments that litter the corner of his screen, instead watching you intently. in response, you roll your eyes playfully and blow him a kiss, snickering when satoru pretends to faint.

eventually, he turns back to his screen, cerulean eyes doing a quick once-over of his new comments.

toji-fushiguro: ill take his gf any day

inumaki: we know gtfo

gojoslittleslut: toji i get gojo and u take his girl. deal?

toji-fushiguro: bet

"alright guys, settle down," satoru huffs, rolling his eyes. "for the record, i still have a girlfriend and i don't plan on changing that anytime soon," he clarifies, addressing the current feud going on in his comments. 

satoru's a good streamer—he does his best to keep things cordial and lighthearted with his audience, but he also knows his limits. one of his limits involves people trying to separate you and him, his one true pairing (of course satoru's otp is his own relationship).

your boyfriend leans closer to the screen and scowls good-naturedly, holding up the hand still wrapped around yours. "this isn't gonna change, so don't even think about it!"

satoru says his goodbyes and then ends the stream, turning to you with a sigh. "how down bad do you have to be to name yourself 'gojo's little slut?'" he grumbles, clicking through his stream analytics and finding the user. he opens gojoslittleslut's profile and studies it for a moment before hovering his mouse over the block button.

he leans back in his chair and tilting his chin up at you. "she just gave me a hundred dollars, so i kinda feel bad about blocking her," satoru muses, tapping his foot on the floor. he looks up at where you still sit on his desk, twirling a strand of hair around your finger. "c'mere," he mumbles, slipping his hands around your waist and hoisting you into his lap with a soft grunt.

satoru rests his chin on your shoulder and nudges his face into your neck, breath tickling your skin. "you know that i'm all yours, right?"

"of course i do," you murmur, settling into his arms. he's warm and comfortable, like always. satoru smiles warmly and kisses the side of your face, letting his lips linger.

"good. 'cause no fan account's ever gonna change that."

[criminalamnesia]

Traitor part 8

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

here it is everyone :)) took me forever but it’s finally here! now I can disappear in peace lol. I’ll proofread everything later, but I hope this lives up to everyone’s expectations. thank you all for the love you’ve given this series. I hope this gives you some closure.

let me know if you want any drabbles from the series <3

thank you again!

after kyle finally leaves you alone, you slink back against the door, shutting your eyes so tightly stars dot your vision.

it never ends, does it?

apologies. worry. sympathy. pity.

it was in each of their eyes— the one-four-one. each of them trying to mask their pity for you behind sickening sympathy. you were exhausted of that look— not just from them, but from everyone you had walked past or looked at since everything had happened.

you open your eyes, scanning the room. what once had been a haven had become a hell. shattered glass sprinkled the floor near the mirror. clothes were still strewn about. you hadn’t bothered picking up what had been disturbed.

you’d be gone too soon for it to matter.

your phone rings then, the screen lighting up in the dimly lit room. you let the ring tone play for a second longer before you’re moving, reaching for the device on your nightstand.

it’s kate, and you breathe a sigh of relief.

“hello?” you say as you answer the call.

“it’s kate,” comes the woman’s familiar voice through the speaker. “im on my way to base. should be there by tomorrow.”

you startle, eyebrows raising in confusion. “you’re coming here? why?”

you hear her sigh. “we can talk about it tomorrow. I need to meet with john, anyways. two birds, one stone and all that.” she tells you.

“can you at least tell me if the paper work is all set for my transfer?” you ask.

she doesn’t answer for a moment, and then:

“we’ll talk about it tomorrow, sergeant. get some rest. you sound like you need it.”

you hear a click, and then the line goes dead. you furrow your brows as you look down at the phone in your hand.

why on earth would she come all the way here just to talk?

your mind is moving a mile a minute, and suddenly, it clicks.

laswell is coming here to do damage control.

you huff a mirthless laugh, dropping your phone as your hands come up to run through your hair.

you weren’t being reassigned. you were being discharged.

but was it at her insistence, or someone else’s?

you whip around, wrenching open the door and storming down the hall to price’s office. those you pass in the hallway give you bewildered stares, and suddenly you’re aware that you’re still in that damned robe, but you’re on a mission.

and when you start something, you see it through.

you don’t bother knocking as you reach price’s door. instead, you barge into the office, effectively interrupting an argument between price and simon. their voices die off, heads turning to appraise who had barged in.

price’s eyes widen at the sight of you, but simon’s face is as unreadable as always. the door clicks shut behind you, and you stalk towards the two men, your fists clenched as you seethe.

“you motherfuckers,” you hurl the words at them, “you fucking knew. you knew.”

“love, what are you talkin’ about?” price questions, his brows furrowed as he turns to you.

“laswell,” you say, and price’s eyes widen. he knows. and now he knows you know.

“whatever she told you—”

“she didn’t tell me shit,” you huff. “I figured it out. why the fuck else would she come here just to talk? she’s playing fucking babysitter, isn’t she?”

price doesn’t speak. your gaze flits to simon’s.

“I’m sure you were rooting for this outcome, weren’t you? couldn’t finish me off in that fucking room, but hey, this is just as good, isn’t it? sending me back to fucking nothing.”

“this job is my life,” you turn your attention back to the captain. “and you fuckers just can’t stop ruining it, can you?” your voice is raising, and tears prick the corners of your eyes. you’re becoming hysteric.

“all because of a fucking lie!” you’re yelling now, jabbing a finger into the chest of your former captain.

“calm down,” the sound of simon’s rough baritone leads your head to snap toward him. your eyes are wide, fury and terror blazing in them.

and he expects you to let loose. scream and hit and scream some more. but you don’t.

you stand there and you stare at him with those wide eyes. the rest of the room— hell, the world falls away— and it’s just him and you.

like it was on patrol during countless nights, your bare fingers dancing over his gloved hands as you prattled on about a show you liked.

on countless nights curled up in his bed, your back to him, pressed so close he could feel the beat of your heart in his own chest. his arms wrapped around you, one of your fingers lazily tracing the ink on his forearm. no words spoken, yet so much said.

in the field, when you and johnny bicker over comms and he takes your side. when you take a bullet to the shoulder and he holds pressure on it until evac arrives.

when he makes eye contact with you as you pin kyle to the training mat, finally able to overcome his strength. when price tells him you’re the rat and he doesn’t want to believe it.

it’s just him and you. a lieutenant and his sergeant. but it’s more than that.

it’s a deep understanding of this job being your life. of losing everything and everyone you hold dear. of finding family again in this team, and doing whatever it takes to keep that family safe.

and he fully realizes, then, what you have been condemned to.

what they condemned you to.

what he condemned you to.

he breaks from his thoughts as you slam your fist into his jaw.

price’s eyes widen, his feet carrying him forward to intervene, but simon waves him off as he cradles a hand to his jaw.

“let ‘em,” he grunts out, and price looks bewildered, but he nods. he takes a step back, his hands falling to his sides, and he lets you strike again.

“fuck you,” you seethe, and despite your best efforts, your voice cracks. emotion seeps in, and your eyes are wet as you swipe a leg out from under him, forcing him to his knees.

he falls with no grace, knees hitting the concrete floor with a dull thud. you’d cringe if this were any other circumstance.

instead, you deliver another blow, cracking his nose with the force of it. blood sprays out and wets your robe.

“ghost—” price begins from somewhere off to the side, but simon just shakes his head.

“fuck you, simon! fuck you!” you scream at him, and your fists are flying blindly as tears cloud your eyes.

and he just takes the hits. you subconsciously register the sound of the office door squeaking as it opens and quickly closes. price didn’t want to be a bystander any longer, it seems.

but he still didn’t jump in. was it because of ghost’s insistence? or because your captain didn’t want to watch one of his soldiers finally snap?

you finally stop yourself when blood drips from your knuckles. unsurprisingly, they’ve split again. there’s no doubt in your mind that there will be little scars between each of them once they’ve healed.

more to add to the reminder of everything. god, at this point you knew you’d never forget it even if you wanted to. even if you tried to. even if you did for a brief moment, those little white lines— discolored and jagged skin in the place of what should be smooth and unmarred, would be your reminder.

blood pools on the floor, a mix of yours and simon’s. you pay it no mind as you wipe the backs of your hands on your completely ruined robe. good— now you had a great excuse to throw the damned thing away.

you would’ve thrown it away anyways.

you bring your hands to your eyes, wiping away tears that had freed themselves their cage. you see simon clearly then, his face bloodied and yet still beautiful in that way of his. his nose is obviously broken. lacerations above his eye and on his cheekbones.

his eyes are staring back you, the icy blue of them never more intense than now.

you heave in your breaths as you look at him. his split lip cracks further as he opens his mouth.

“done?”

and you don’t have anything left to give, so you nod. then you slump to your knees, down onto his level, and you don’t look away from what you’ve done.

it’s no different than what you did to the doctor, or to countless enemies in the field. but, at the same time, it is different.

because it’s him, and he let you do this. he could have easily stopped you. he’d shown his strength against you numerous times on the sparring mat, picking you up and tossing you around with ease.

and yet he didn’t stop you.

“why?” you ask him, and it’s a loaded question. your voice is a watery tremble, and the word comes out as a whisper, but he doesn’t shy away.

he shrugs. “you needed it.”

he’s focusing on one aspect of the question— on why he let you hit him. you open your mouth to respond, but he surprises you by speaking again.

“least I could do,” he says.

you close your mouth, your chapped lips pressed into a thin line. why is he doing this now? saying this now? what changed?

“is it your fault, then? that I’m being discharged?” you find yourself asking, and you’re not sure if you want to know the answer.

maybe you just want a reason to hate him more.

“no,” he says, and you know he means it.

he never lied to you, regardless of any pain it may have saved. it was one of the things you had loved about him.

he sighs. “I didn’t want you to go.”

that surprises you. simon was never one to freely speak on his feelings. he had opened up to you during your relationship, but it was as if there was always an invisible line he could never cross. never did he utter the complete truth to his thoughts or feelings. and you had accepted that— because that is who he was.

and you would take him with all his walls if it just meant that you could have him.

“I don’t want you to.” he corrects himself.

the room falls silent around you. the part of you that still holds love for him yearns for his embrace at this moment. but you push that side of you down. you will not go crawling back, not after what happened.

“you’ve been an asshole,” you say, and he gives a curt nod.

“probably.” he concedes. “but I wouldn’ take anythin’ back. I told you, I meant what I said.”

“is that supposed to make me feel better?” you ask. god, he has a horrible way with words.

“no,” he tells you. “nothin’ I can say can do that.”

you snort. you fall back on you haunches, your hands in your lap as you look at him.

“I am never going to forgive you,” you tell him, words full of so much hurt.

he nods again. “I know. I don’ blame you. don’ expect you to, neither.”

“but I’m…” he starts, and his lips crease in a frown. “im sorry.”

you just look at him. perhaps you had wanted an apology at one moment in time, but now? now none of it mattered.

“I hope so,” you tell him. you move to stand, and he remains still. he hasn’t moved an inch since you’d finished your assault.

“I hope you feel this way for the rest of your lonely life. I hope that you never forget what you did to me, and I hope that it keeps you up at night. because I can tell you with certainty that I will never forget. and I hope the others remember, too. I hope it tears you all apart from the inside. that it follows you around for the rest of your career.”

you breathe in, then out. “and I hope no one ever gives you the chances I did,” your voice is soft. “because I would never wish what you did to me on the next person you think you love.”

his face conveys no emotion other than the small frown still on his lips. his eyes, so cold, have softened the tiniest bit. you used to love when you could bring out that softness inside of him. when it was just the two of you, your hand in his, his eyes on you.

those memories would suffocate you if you let them. what could’ve been will suffocate you. you refuse to let it.

you turn and stalk towards the door, not bothering to spare him another glance. you open it, stepping out into the hallway, coming face-to-face with the rest of the one-four-one.

their eyes are all wide as they take you in. your bloodied hands and robe. the dried tear streaks on your cheeks. you pull the door shut behind you before you speak.

“i don’t care to speak to kate,” you say to price, your eyes meeting his. “fuck her for not giving me a chance. and fuck you for laying down like a damn dog and not fighting for your fucking team.”

you turn to johnny next. “you shove your sorries up your ass, mactavish. I don’t want your sympathy, and I don’t want your pity. I hope your regret eats you alive.”

finally, kyle. “and you,” you glare at him. “if anyone other than simon should’ve defended me, it should’ve been you. I met you first, kyle. you were my closest friend, my brother. and you turned out to be just another fucking lap dog.”

you shake your head, blinking away hot tears. “I want you to get me temporary housing and a car because that’s the least you owe me, after ruining my life. and I don’t want to hear from any of you ever again. if I do, I guarantee you I will not show you the mercy you think you showed me when you had me tied up in that chair.”

none of them spoke, and you didn’t give them a chance to as you pushed past them, heading back toward your room to change.

a yellow cab retrieves you from base the next morning before kate arrives. it’s still dark outside when you leave the shelter that had once been home. rain pours down around you, a raging storm hanging overhead as it had all night prior. perhaps it was a reflection of your mood. you liked to think that it was.

you toss your duffle bag into the trunk, shutting it before climbing into the back seat. you hadn’t bothered to pack anything other than a few pairs of clothes you’d recovered from the floor of your room. everything else could be trashed, especially anything the boys had given you.

the driver doesn’t speak— price had given him all the information he needed— and paid him— before he’d fetched you. it seems your final outburst— and beating simon to a pulp— had finally put some urgency in his movements.

none of them had seen you off, per your request. you thought it was the least they could do for you after continuously disrespecting your boundaries.

(unbeknownst to you, simon had watched you leave through a window.)

the driver turned up the music— some pop song you didn’t know the name of— and you slumped in your seat, your head turned toward the window as you watched the rain race down it.

you found yourself drifting off quickly, and you didn’t try to fight it. you’re finally free of that place and the men you thought were your family. free of the anxiety of seeing them around every corner. free of the hate that sparked in your heart every time you heard their voices.

you sleep, and for the first time since before everything, it’s peaceful.

you wake to the taxi driver talking to you.

“we’re here,” he says, knocking on the glass separating the front and back seats. “can you get out now? I gotta get home. it’s my wife’s birthday.”

you blink the sleep from your eyes, nodding before you even register what he’s saying. “sorry,” you mumble as you fumble with the seat belt.

you slip from the car, your boots splashing in a muddy puddle. you grimace as the murky water seeps in, wetting your socks.

you trudge around to the back of the car, opening the trunk and retrieving your bag. you’ve just shut the trunk and stepped back when the car is driving off, kicking up mud that further dirties your boots and jeans.

you pay it little mind as you look at the small cottage before you.

nestled between some trees, it’s beautiful. a shingled roof. light blue paneled siding. a small front porch with a rocking chair and a bench swing. a beautiful dark blue door.

your favorite flowers live in the flower beds surrounding what you can see of the house. it makes you wonder if its a simple coincidence or if simon or price planned it.

how long have they known that you would have to come here? that you would have no where else to go except for where they put you?

you vowed that this house would just be temporary. you would get away from it as soon as possible, putting the rest of the one-four-one behind you. you didn’t want any of them knowing where to find you.

the rain slows to a sad drizzle. drops prick your skin as you make no effort to avoid puddles, splashing carelessly to the front door. you can hear birds beginning to chirp, slipping out of their hiding places as the sun’s rays begin to illuminate the earth once more.

a new beginning, you think.

you reach a hand toward the door knob, twisting it open and pushing inside. it’s a cozy little place with wood floors and a brick fireplace. it’s furnished, but there’s no personality to it. it clearly hasn’t been somebody’s home.

the door clicks shut behind you as you toe off your boots and drop your duffle by the door. as you nudge your boots out of the way with a foot, you notice an envelope on the floor.

eyebrows scrunched in confusion, you lean down and scoop it up. your name is written on the front in a scrawl you don’t recognize.

who else knows you’re here?

perhaps you’ll need to leave sooner than you thought.

you push your thumb under the seam, ripping it open with little finesse. inside is a typed letter. it’s an offer, you realize. a job offer.

its got an american stamp on it, and its signed by a phillip graves.

a new beginning indeed.