#red really has to put up with so much....

[pixelplushies]

So I was recently tasked with a very well loved soft toy Flip the Frog from the 1930s to restore.

He was bought new for my great aunt-in-law when she was 10, and was gifted to her sister's children when they were young. My mother in law has memories of feeding him cornflakes and putting her hands in his mouth, which felt very soft and velvety.

He had been in the attic for a number of years, and had moths get to him. He had lost his eyes. Luckily there are some examples online which show what he was meant to be like!

I approached this project wanting to retain as much of the original plush as I could. I thought about doing a total restoration, but I would end up replacing so much I might as well be making a replica! I wanted to make sure I used fabrics that were sympathetic to the time period, so 100% wool felt and cotton velvet seemed appropriate. The only liberty I took was polyester thread, because that's what I had already.

I researched a lot of plush restorations and best practices. A lot of places recommended only surface washing, but poor Flip was so full of dust and the remains of moths, but his fabric body seemed rather sturdy still, I thought I would take the risk of un-stuffing him to give him a thorough bath. I very gently took him apart and unstuffed him. His stuffing material looked to be kapok. There was lots of moth poop.

I gave Flip a gentle bath with carpet cleaning solution, which is what is recommended for vintage plushies. It's designed to be used on lots of fabrics including natural ones like wool and doesn't leave a residue once it's done cleaning so won't degrade the fabric over time. Loads of grime came out of Flip, as well as some yellow dye from his feet.

Flip then had a good air-dry in the sun. He seemed to enjoy soaking up the sun, he was already looking a lot cleaner.

Flip's eyes (which once upon a time caused my cousin-in-laws nightmares) were particularly gross and moth-eaten underneath. I decided to re-cover the card disks that made up his eyes with velvet cotton instead rather than reuse the old eyes. His original velvet was really bright yellow but had faded over time. I decided to use a fabric that matched his more faded look, I felt the bright yellow would look out of place. I also got some wooden beads and cut them in half and painted them for his pupils, which I glued on.

When it came to restoring his feet, I tried to retain as much of the original material as possible. I enjoyed patching and repairing the felt, I chose a 100% wool yellow felt that was close to his old colour here. Highlights the age of the old parts, I feel like it draws attention to his history and age.

Time to put him back together! I bought some new kapok stuffing because I couldn't reuse the old dusty moth stuff. Luckily you can still get it. I wrapped his metal skeleton in felt so that if it got rusty it wouldn't stain him (he's already a little stained from it rusting). Then I slipped his limbs over the skeleton and sewed them back on!

Ta-daa!! Here's flip looking a lot better, even if I say so myself.

One of the things we noticed when looking at photos of these soft toys is that they seem to have pinkish or white bow-ties and this Flip was missing his! Looking at the character art, I believe they were originally red.

The orientation of the eyes also seems to vary because I think they were prone to falling off and being sewn back on. I chose to orient Flip's eyes close to how they were when I received him, but slightly more vertical to make him appear more friendly.

Flip was a very fun challenge and got me thinking a lot about restoration vs conservation of historical artifacts, he may not be super duper old or rare but I feel like I better understand the dilemmas and judgements that have to be made when working on objects like this!

[wonderjanga]

Free Me From These Shackles

The first time the JL met Marvel was during an alien invasion in Metropolis. The hero was new, and quite cheery whenever they interacted with him. He was like Superman 2.0., but more red and somehow more of a Boy Scout. In fact, speaking of Superman, the meshed together like peanut butter and jelly. Anyways, back to the point, when they first met him he was new and seemingly, emphasis on seemingly, naïve and inexperienced.

So, they tried to help him, much to Billy’s hidden annoyance. And he was annoyed! He won’t deny that. They were treating him like a newbie!

Like, the time Superman came to Fawcett and started critiquing every single thing he did in a fight against Captain Nazi.

Marvel and Captain Nazi(CN): *fighting*

Supes: *just hovering to the side*

CN: *throws a car*

Marvel: *catches it and puts it down*

Supes: “You know, you could’ve thrown that back at him?”

Marvel: “What?” *gets distracted and last minute dodges a punch, proceeds to fly far away from Captain Nazi*

Supes: *follows after him* “I’m saying you could’ve thrown the car back at him. Or the lamppost he threw you earlier. Or the hotdog stand.”

Marvel: “Why would I do that?”

CN: *flying after him*

Marvel: “What if he breaks it? That’s someone’s stuff. Or what if he deflects it? Property damage can kick your behind. How do you not know that?”

Supes: “Does your city not pay for it? Then again…”

…he was new, Clark thought. It would make sense for the city not to cover him yet.

Marvel: “What? Why would they? Wouldn’t that mess up taxes?”

Supes: “Now that I think about it, it really should.”

Clark was amazed as to how his taxes or rent never went up, no matter how much destruction happened in Metropolis.

Or the time Batman tried helping him diffuse a bomb even though Billy has had plenty experience already. They were at an alien site and trying to diffuse an alien bomb though so he supposed he could give him the benefit of the doubt.

Even if it was annoying.

Marvel: *squats down and rips off bomb lid*

Batman: “Careful.”

Marvel: “Careful what?” *looking at a bunch of wires*

Batman: *peers over his shoulder* “We don’t have enough informa—”

Marvel: “Uh huh uh huh.” *barely listening and snaps a blue wire with his fingers*

Solomon: *blabbling instructions*

Batman: *startles and jumps back*

Marvel: *gives him a look before snapping another two wires*

Batman: *baffled at how they aren’t literally dead, and wondering if Billy’s run into this tech before*

Marvel: *snaps one more wire and bomb powers off* “Alright.” *stands back up* “Man, I am starving. Your city has his joint called Bat-Burger, right? Is it good?”

Batman: “…Yes.” *somehow had a blank face but still conveying that he thinks Marvel is crazy*

Billy honestly didn’t know why he thought so. Sivana’s had more complicated stuff fit for random Tuesdays instead of long, dastardly plots or invasions.

Free Billy from these shackles of people thinking he’s a newbie as if he hasn’t done this longer than them.

[thalwri]

COLLARS 'N LEASH

STARRING: caleb x reader

synopsis: you're injured and supposed to be resting but you just can't stop going out. so caleb finds a way to convince you to stay inside to let your injuries heal (it gets freaky).

warnings: porn with plot, use of collars, fingering, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, pussy slapping, obscene use of hands, cum eating, sloppy wet marathon sex, multiple creampies, manhandling, squirting, spitting, pussydrunk!caleb, cockdrunk!reader, you two are just nasty freaks.

wc: 3,4k

a/n: i'm literally about to cumbust. caleb's got me feral these days. and he will never be beating the panty sniffer allegations!!

MINORS DON'T INTERACT!

You believed it was a joke. Or some one of the many weirdly ominous things Caleb had a habit of saying to get a kick out of you. It must have been.

“What?” You blink, staring at his hands. 

“Remember what I told you?” He asked, free hand slowly reaching up your thigh. “About that stray cat.”

You were fresh out the shower, skin still steaming from the heat of the water pelting your back. You have nothing on but a gown, and not one of the fluffy ones either. His eyes had been on you since you left the shower and he hasn’t bothered hiding his blushing.

“The one you put a collar on?” Your brows raise at the memory. He really was worried about that poor kitty. It was all injured and kept trying to run, so Caleb eventually put a collar with a bell on the cat so he’d know if it tried to go and be adventurous again.

Then it clicked. You had a minor injury on your leg from your last mission. A solo mission that was supposed to be an investigation had ended with you fighting at least six Wanderers throughout the night. Caleb made sure your superiors put you on break for at least two weeks (with Zayne’s medical support) to give you time to rest. 

But being the stubborn person you are, you always found a way to leave your apartment to Caleb’s agitation. It got so bad that even he had to take leave from the Fleet to keep an eye on you— as if his usual methods didn’t already work.

It all makes sense. The fact that he’s in Linkon, the fact that you’ve been put on sick leave for two weeks, and the fact that he’s been watching you like a hawk especially since you try to go out. 

The damn collars in his hands are to make you the cat in this situation. 

“Are you serious?” You blink, trying to ignore the growing heat in your core. You couldn’t lie, it was hot. 

One of the collars, you presume is yours, has a pretty red bow tied around its bell. The other has a leather leash attached to it. Almost like a leash for a dog.

“I don’t want you running off when you’re still recoverin’.” Caleb’s hand disappear into your silk robe, inching higher and higher up your thighs, just so damn close to your pussy. “And I don’t want you to get worried. So I shouldn’t leave you.”

His lips inch closer to your neck, hot breath ghost over your damn skin. This fucker—

“How about I test a little theory of mine?” The metallic jingles of the collars ring in your ears. His sunset eyes raise to your gaze with that stupidly handsome puppy look he gives you when he gets needy and desperate. “Can I put this collar on you?”

“You’re such a freak.” You hiss, watching his eyes flutter in plain as the fucking sky obviousness. You learned he had a thing for you being a little bit mean. Just a little. And he does everything he can to get on your nerves.

“So are you.” His hand finally reaches your soaking pussy and circles your entrance with a single finger. You deeply inhale feeling your walls clench on air. “Look at you, so wet. I think you want me to collar you up. So I always know where you are.”

Bold of him to talk. You can literally see the growing tent in his pants. He likes it just as much as you do. 

His finger slowly dips into your pussy, pumping in and out with deliberate precision. He knows exactly what to do to set you off, turn you on, make you beg. And he is making things extra slow to get to you.

“Caleb.” You attempt to warn but he curls his finger right into that spongy pleasure spot that he knows drives you insane.

“Why would you wanna go out and about when you’re injured, pips?” He asks with concern in his eyes as if he isn’t torturing you with his finger. It’d be better if he put in another or two. Wet squelches travel right up to your ears to add to the injury. What a tease.

Your eyes gloss over with intense need. What a fucking— 

“It’s almost like you want me to keep you close,” Another finger finally slips in, stretching you out deliciously. A heavenly moan escapes your lips, not that you were trying to hide it to begin with. “Keep a close eye on you and remind you that you’re better off restin’ here at home.”

His words quickly become white noise just from how his fingers turn you into horny mush. If there’s one thing your boyfriend has mastered, it’s driving you insane with his fingers alone. Now imagine what his cock does.

“Fuck.” You sigh, feeling your back arch to feel his fingers deeper inside you. And like the good boyfriend he is, he gives you exactly what you need— pushing his fingers deeper and deeper until his knuckles nudge your entrance. “And– oh, Caleb- what- what about you?”

“Hm?” His tongue darts out his mouth, deeply concentrated on how your pussy clenches around his fingers as fast as your pulse. The tent on his sweatpants start to darken from his leaking precum.

“There’s two… collars.” You say slowly or else his ministrations would bring you to a stutter. “If the bell one’s for me, what about the one with the leash?”

Caleb’s lips form an ‘o’ shape, eyes following your gaze to the collars in his hand. “That one’s for me. You want me to stay close to take care of you, right? What better way to do that than to make sure I never leave your side?”

Your hand slowly travels down to grip his hardened cock, gently stroking it through the soaked fabric. Your finger danced around his tip just the way he liked it— slow and light, just to rile him up even more. You watch his eyes squeeze shut in a sore attempt to hold back his own lewd noises. 

“So if I wear the collar you will too?” Your hand expertly works his cock, squeezing his clothed shaft as you stroked him. Unable to verbally respond, Caleb slowly nods while huffing out soft groans.

That’s how you end up on your back in the bed, legs spread with your boyfriend ruthlessly eating your pussy.

Your room is silent apart from the obnoxiously slick noise of your wet, cum soaked skin being slurped and devoured. Caleb made you cum three times already and it looked like he wasn’t stopping. 

“C-Caleb—” Your eyes roll back for the nth time as his lips close around your clit for his tongue to flick back and forth in that delicious pattern. He expertly works your clit, slowly and carefully spelling out his name into your arousal all while curling his fingers deep inside your soaking pussy.

“Caleb— god— please—“ Your pleas fall to deaf ears, mostly because he’s trapped his head between your trembling thighs to suffocate in your grip. You can tell he’s getting off on it based on how he fucks your slick back into with his fingers, how he moans loudly with every slurp, kiss and bite on your skin. 

He is so gone and he fucking loves it. 

Your collar jingles every time you squirm and twitch, and sings a melody whenever your back arches for him. It’s like a little instrument that accompanies the symphony of moans and whimpers that leave your pretty lips.

He’s so animalistic with it, slobbering and drooling all over you while he slurps you up like one of his protein shakes. The bed’s shaking from how he’s grinding on the mattress to get a kick from all that self induced edging— his main priority, however, is you and that cute pussy that has him on a leash (literally and figuratively).

“Keep drippin’, pips.” He groans into your pussy, pressing hot smooches on your lower lips. “Keep cummin’ on my face. Tug on my damn leash. Fuckin’ love tasting you.”

Your clothes had been long abandoned after the first orgasm he ate you through. You made such a mess that your panties (which he will keep for later) were thrown across your room along with the rest of his clothes.

The way his tongue just effortlessly slides right past your entrance and caresses your walls brings a hoarse cry right out of your kiss-swollen lips. And of course your boyfriend dutifully responds with the sluttiest whine you’ve heard. You tug harder at his leash, overwhelmed by the continuous stimulation from his nose bumping your clit.

It all rushes straight down to his cock, jutting against he mattress. He shakes his head to spread your juices all over his face, wanting to be covered and blessed by your essence. Wanting to lick it right off his face once he was done. To have your scent on his form without having to scramble for it by rubbing your used panties on his face.

Eating your pussy alone was more than enough to make him cum untouched. What makes it even better is your relentless tugging of his leash, continuously pulling his face closer to your weeping cunt. If your moans weren’t enough then your trembling thighs were more than sufficient to keep him going. And he’d be damned to waste the meal you’re serving him on a diamond platter. 

“Caleb!” Your cry summons another harsh, intense climax bringing your legs to a violent shake. His grip on your thighs tighten and the slurps and muffled groans get so much louder that you can’t even hear your own moans.

He tilts his head back, finally releasing your legs from his iron grip. Eyes closed, Caleb chuckles as he gulps as much air as his lungs can allow.

“Should’ve had you sit on my face.” He rasps and wipes your juices off of his chin. Almost intuitively, you open your lips awaiting a taste of your juices.

“Fucking freak.” You whimper as he stuffs his fingers in your mouth for you to wipe him clean. Your tongue laps up your yummy essence, ensuring all that remains on his hand is just your saliva.

“Your fucking freak, baby.” He slowly move in and out of your mouth until the tips of his fingers tap the back of your throat making you gag around him. “Your freak that loves eating you good, loves making you feel good, loves making you cum.”

His free hand cups your pussy, feeling your wetness soak his hand like a waterfall. “Look at you. Making such a mess.” He raises his hand and lands a soft smack on your pussy making you jump from the overstimulation. Your bell jingles from the impact. He finally retracts his fingers to lick your spit off his hand, relishing in your taste with a low moan.

“Speak… for yourself.” You huff, eyes darting down to his reddened twitching length. Globs of precum dripped down his thick shaft surrounded with throbbing veins— three to be specific. “Got you all hard from eating me like a good boy.”

Caleb’s eyes flutter shut from the dirty comment. His cock jumped, dripping precum right onto your hot skin. “It’s like you want me to stuff you to remind you what gets your eyes rolling back.”

“All bark, no bite.” You grin, watching his eyes rapidly dilate. “You gonna bark again, baby?”

“Woof.” Damn, that’s fucking hot. You say nothing apart from spreading your legs wider for him. An invitation for him to act on his word. “Humble me then, Colonel. Or maybe I’ll be doing that—“

Your words get swallowed by his lips and tongue engulfing you in a lascivious kiss. Rough and demanding, breaths heavy and endless, Caleb wastes no time aligning his dripping tip with your entrance. He circles around you, slowly stroking up and down, bumping his cockhead with your swollen bud. Your juices spill all over his shaft, making it so much smoother, wetter, lewder. Fuck.

“Stop teasing,” You tug his leash as you moan against his hungry lips. “Put it in, ‘leb.”

“Mm, command me.” He grins. “You want me to fuck you good, yeah? You want this cock all up in you? Want me to stuff you full?”

The stimulation is too good for you to respond, all that can be mustered is a nod. “Use your words, pips.”

Of course.

His finger taps the bell on your collar, ringing out a cute dingle! Teasingly tapping on it, his cock slides up and down your folds, tip occasionally teasing itself right into you before pulling out. You can tell it’s driving him insane too, from how his breath is laboured, how his eyes are slowly but surely rolling back, and most definitely those soft whimpers he’s struggling to hide.

“Please, baby,” You whine, grinding your hips hard against his cock and tugging harsh on his leash. You’re practically drunk on him without even having his girth inside you. “Put in in f’me. Want you to fuck me full. Be good ’n stuff me.”

“Heh,” Caleb huffs, almost choking from how hard you pulled him. He presses his cockhead into your pussy, groaning at how tight you squeeze around him, sucking him in like a vacuum. “Yes ma’am.”

And he slips in smooth like a hand into a glove. Maybe because you’re slick from all the times he made you cum with his mouth. You both tilt your heads back, close to cumming right on the spot. He pauses to catch his breath, the dog tag on his necklace and the leather strap of his leash dangling right over your face.

“Oh, she’s squeezin’ so hard.” He grins, practically drooling from how your pussy sucks him riiiight in.

He rocks in and out of you fast, absorbing the sound of your slick and cum squelching, drenching his cock in your essence. Each thrust takes him deeper and deeper into you until his tip pokes your sensitive gummy spot.

Your little bell jumps with your titties, jingling and ringing with each relentless pounding of his length in you while his heavy sacks smack your skin. It feels so gooood and so fucking lewd that your words are reduced to incoherent mumbles.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Caleb chuckles, dragging his length in and out of your pussy with relentless speed. Even he can’t hold back his deliciously slutty moans from how good you squeeze and tighten around him. His eyes are locked on your collar, glossing over the jingling metal accompanying your moans.

“You like how I’m stuffing you?”

Your eyes cross right over, tongue tempted to loll right out. The overstimulation becomes too much even for you, forcing out so many fresh cruel orgasms from you that a ring of your cum paints the base of his cock.

“You— ah— must love how tight I clench on you,” You manage to bite back, deliberately clenching your walls to tease him. “While you fuck me deep ’n rough.”

“Fuck—“ The bed is practically screaming from the pressure of you being hammered clean. “You’re gonna make me cum.”

“Then do it, baby.” You must have trained him subconsciously. His cock spills heavy, hot globs of his cum right into your soaked pussy, stuffing you right up real good. His whines travel right down to your core, turning you on even more than you could possibly imagine. Something about him being so relentlessly horny for you drives you insane.

“You’re evil, baby.” Caleb groans, pressing hot kisses all over your skin, from your neck right to your jaw all while still thrusting his cum into you. You can just feel some of it escaping your plugged pussy, leaking onto the bed with the rest of your lewd juices. “Making’ me cum like this. Driving me crazy with that pussy of yours.”

Plap! Plap! Plap! sounds around the room alongside your joint cries, sweat-slick skin smacking, and your bell jingling like crazy. Your grip on his leash tightens, tugging him down right to your lips.

The kiss is so deliciously sloppy and wet with your tongues overlapping and teeth clashing. Your core tightens and burns with that familiar heat, screaming for release. “Caleb— ‘m gonna cum again.”

“Good.” He pulls right out of you, leaving your poor pussy clenching on air and practically pulsing his name in morse code. “Cum f’me like a good girl.”

He raises your legs from the bed, hooking them on his shoulders and pounding his cock right back into you. In a much deeper angle hitting your sensitive core all while pinching and rubbing your clit with a calloused finger.

You choke out a cry, vision going completely white as the overstimulation burns through your skin right up your spine. The tightness in your core completely snaps, releasing juices all over you, all over him, all over the damn bed until everything in the eye can see is soaked.

“Thaaaat’s it, baby.” He grins, watching your juices drip down his abs flexing with every thrust. He leans down, pushing you into the meanest mating press to date. His cock practically bullies your cervix with his inhumanely mean thrusts, spurting globs of cum from his last orgasm right into you. 

“Squirt on me.” Your toes curl as your eyes roll back into your head. “Make a mess all over me.” He’s babbling at this rate, praising everything you do while he rails you to the stars. “Pussy’s so good f’me. You’re so good f’me. Wanna stuff you to the brim. Wanna make you feel so good ’n comfy that you won’t need to lift a finger.”

You can only whimper in response to his praises. Your nails claw at his back while fruitlessly tugging at his leash. But a flimsy thing like that won’t hold either of you. If anything, it drives you even crazier for each other.

You could go on for hours, days, till the fucking room smells like you. Till the windows and mirrors fog. Till you milk him dry to the fuckin’ bone. Till you’re both so cockdrunk and pussydrunk that your names are the only things you can utter.

Not even a few seconds after Caleb loudly whines as another huge stuffing of hot cum fills you up good. His eyes cross as his tongue sticks right out, dripping saliva right into your mouth. Feeling so nasty yet so damn good, you take it all in, relishing in his taste.

“Fuck, wanna taste you—“ Using the remnants of his strength that didn’t go with his cum right into you, Caleb lifts you up into his arms with his cock still lodged inside. You swear it must have swollen up inside you. 

He drives his hips up into you, pushing his cock nice and hard and deep. “Spit into my mouth, baby.” He sticks his tongue out, almost wagging it for you like the tease he is. “Drip into my mouth.”

And who are you to refuse him of his desires? Not to mention, you’ve always had the desire to do it too. The only concern is how he expects you to do it while he fucks you both beyond the point of overstimulation.

But Caleb being Caleb always finds a way. He nips your squished titties, dragging a loud sultry moan out of your lips, bringing drool right out of your tongue and right into his waiting mouth. And that alone just makes him cum against, his cock strongly spurts his cum right into you as if he hasn’t done it twice already. 

You’re fucked through and through, almost limp in his embrace and yet still hungry for me. As his cock pumps his seed deep into you, he kisses you with praises of reverence and love.

“So good.” He babbles, tonguing the bell on your collar, whimpering with the soft jingles. “So fuckin’ good. ‘M not gonna stop. ‘M gonna fuck you good all night. Stuff you full of my cum. You want that, baby?”

You quickly nod, mumbling your yeses with hiccups and moans. There was no way you were going to stop at the rate you were going. Perhaps when the sun rises. Or when your injuries heal. You’re not complaining though. It’s not every day you get to have your boyfriend like this, and you plan to make the most of it.

caleb's making me too feral for my own good.

[moesthoughts]

gonna sound a littleeee crazy but i can't stop thinking about s3 nat coming back to your shared hut after a frustrating day and just wanting to use you to let off some steam, but she uses her knife handle because she doesn't have a strap 🙈

Nat using a knife as a strap on

pairing ⛧ natalie scatorccio x fem! reader

warnings ⛧ knife as a strap on, degradation into praise, spanking but not that much

summary . . Nat has a hard day of being the antler queen, and she can’t wait to take her anger out on you.

➛ Thinking about how Nat bottling up her anger for the whole day, everyone was so aggravating. People yelling at her, grudges still held against her. She’s tired of taking shit from people, yelling at them.

➛ It would be the end of the day, her hands balled into fists, fingers gripping at the fabric of her clothes. She had an important job of leading, her role weighing heavy on her mind. She’s been busy all day, stressed, frustrated, she needs something to take her anger out on.

➛ She’s all riled up, all that’s on her mind is you. It’s you moaning her name, fucking you till your legs are weak. She shook her head, dragging her hand down her face as it turns a soft red at her persistent thoughts.

➛ You would be in your shared hut already, sharpening her knife like she requested you to do earlier. The leather you use to cover the blade of the knife lays next to you, trying your best to sharpen her weapon with a rock.

➛ The second she entered the hut you knew something was up, her eyebrows are knitted and her breath was heavy. She quickly grabbed the blade from your hands, putting the cover back on it.

“What’s the matter?” Of course you were confused, that only fueled her desire.

➛ Before you could react she was on top of you, her lips crashing onto yours with hunger. You could practically feel the anger through your lips, and you liked it.

➛ Her hands worked off your clothes, while swatting away yours when you tried to touch her. You whined, gripping at the dirt under you, not having her hips to grip like you always do. This was new, this was hot.

➛ Nat’s lips kissed your neck roughly, biting down on your sensitive spots, definitely leaving marks. All you could do was tilt your head to give her more access, just wishing you were able to tangle your fingers in her brunette roots.

➛ Once she was able to unbutton your shorts, she flipped you over. A gasp left your lips, your eyes focus on the dirt underneath you, while you desperately try to catch your breath.

➛ You bit your lip as she slid down your panties, Nat scoffed at how soaked you were already.

“So fucking wet for me already, is this really turning you on?” She sounded mean, using the tone she uses when directing the group.

➛ Your breath hitched once you felt something teasing your entrance, though it wasn’t her fingers. You glanced over your shoulder curiously, she was using her knife handle as a strap on. You quickly averted your gaze, excitement filling you.

“C’mon.. beg” You could hear the smirk on Nat’s face, you whimpered while she teased your slit. Were you really about to get fucked with a knife?

“Please, Nat.” You start, arching your back into the knife. A groan came from Nat, her eyes staring at your bare body.

“Please, what?” Nat smacked your ass, causing you to gasp. You were feeling so many emotions, this was all so new to you. Usually she was so gentle. Though, here she was, tapping your clit trying to force the answer out of you. But you can’t deny how much this turned you on.

“Fuck me with your knife, Nat. Please. Oh my god.” You didn’t mean to sound so needy, but it worked in your favor. You moan a little too loudly as the knife handle entered you, you quickly slapped your hand over your mouth. Nat whined behind you, watching you take it so well.

➛ Her pace would be extremely slow at first, wanting to pull any sound out of you, to hear you plea for her to go faster. Her free hand caresses your thigh, whispering degradation which you swear made you more wet.

“You’re so dirty, wanting to be fucked by a knife. Do you know how insane that is?” You could tell she was bluffing, after all it was her idea in the first place. Your fingers dug deep in the dirt, your eyes welling up with tears of pleasure.

➛ Once she was satisfied with being mean, she’d focus on actually giving you the pleasure you seek. Her thumb rubbing your bundle of nerves, her knife pumping in and out of you with a pace you couldn’t keep up with.

➛ Once that knot in your stomach unraveled, she rode out your high. Nat pulled out the knife, watching you roll over to look her in the eye. Her fingers smoothed across your stomach, before she leaned down and gave you a sweet kiss.

“You did so well for me, pretty girl.” All she could muster were praises, that same old Nat you’re used to finally coming back. She helped you clean yourself up and get dressed.

➛ From that night on, you purposefully tried ticking her off during the day. Or you watched the others do it for you.

➛ You would tease her by fidgeting with her knife while she was speaking, noticing how her sentences would break up ever so slightly, a stutter interrupting her words.

➛ You would do anything to see that side of her again.

Natalie scatorccio save me… save me.. I’ve been seeing this with so many other characters, with Nat it hits different

req me!

masterlist

[eddieisashifter]

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐆? — MY MARAUDERS REALITY

this is a brief tour of my bag in my maruaders era hogwarts dr! this bag has been with me though literally everything and she's only holding on due to mending enchantments I put on her when I first started to notice her descent. some of the stuff in her is...probably less than legal. but hey! snitches get stiches, alright? inspired by this post by @chaaistained and this one by @hrrtshape!!

my trusty messenger bag that i carry literally everywhere with me. you wouldn't catch me dead using just my pockets to carry all my shit. she's basically a staple of my appearance. anyway, let's open her up!

BUT FIRST——THE DECOR!

✦ my pinback buttons! the "kind hearted degenerate" was stolen from Sirius' patch jacket (I think he let me take it), the "cult leader" was a gift from barty because of course it fucking was, and the other two my sister, eden, and I found just outside of diagon alley (we fought over who got to keep them. I won, obviously. so, i display them proudly, she hates it).

✦ i also have my prefect pin stuck onto the strap of my bag because it's so much better to have on there than my robes. no one's gotten mad at me so whatever.

✦ the dice keychain was stolen from eden's room. I thought it was pretty and she hasn't missed it so

✦ the froggy keychain I found in a muggle shop and needed immediately. I may have a secret obsession with froggos, my friends may or may not be very aware of this fact. he also might be cursed, I swear I hear him ribbit when it gets quiet.

✦ the other keychain I found half-buried in a public park. no idea where it came from or how it got there.

ONTO THE POCKETS! my bag has four pockets on the outside, two that close and two that are just slots on the side. they're all full of shit.

LEFT FRONT POCKET

this pocket is entirely full of trash. literal trash. some of it is cute notes from my friends and such, but the other half is actual trash. I say I'm going to use it to junk journal, I don't. It just sits there in the pocket, unused. I refuse to clean it out.

but the notes!

✦ three fortunes from three fortune cookies that I got on three separate occasions at three different restaurants. — the first "you have the ability to see the bright side in things, do not lose that ability" I got on an outing with my family. it was a rough time all around and the whole dinner was tense, but getting that fortune just reaffirmed my belief in aiming for the best, even when it's unrealistic, so I kept it. — the "your love of music will be an important part of your life" I got on one of my first real dates with sirius. I already knew he dreamed of being a musician, so I took it as a sign we were going to work out. and well, it was correct. — finally, the "whatever you want to do, do it. there are only so many tomorrows" fortune found me when I was wrestling with my feelings. I hadn't intended to fall for remus, but I had. I didn't know what to do. but, I took this as a sign to just go for it and be true to my feelings. It worked out. so I kept it as a reminder, like I did with sirius' one.

✦ "I'll let you drag me to hell if it means you'll hold my hand" note that sirius passed me one day in the middle of class. like that wouldn't make me insane in public. stupid dog.

✦ "kind of a pretty boy, isn't he?" note that I found dropped on the ground in divination. when I picked it up, some girl turned beet red. amusing, really.

✦ "we are all haunted houses" note that I wrote on the corner of a notepad and tore out. I found it at the bottom of my bag weeks later. I cant for the life of me remember what I was talking about, though I think I was onto something.

✦ "not everything has to make sense. let it go. choose peace." note that was written at the top of one of my papers for divination class. professor was far too done with my constant questioning of why things worked the way they did.

✦ "just make it exist first, you can make it good later" sticky note that I wrote to stick onto my writing desk to try and help ward off my perfectionism. It remained there for years until I accidently knocked it down and it refused to stick up again. so, i shoved it into my bag with the others.

✦ "the memory is unclear but the feelings remain" written on a blank polaroid photo. barty accidently took a picture as he dropped my camera. evan wrote the words on the picture that came out. I think he thought he was being poetic. I kept it regardless.

✦ "I think you're afraid because we get along so well. I think it scares you." one of the notes sirius taunted me with in our rivals phase of our rivals to lovers arc. torn in two and carefully taped back together.

✦ "dear me, don't fall back into old patterns just because they're familiar. love, me." letter written for an assignment. that 'write a letter to your younger self' writing prompt nonsense? I didn't want to do it, so I wrote the first thing that came to my head. still got an O though.

✦ an unopened letter. the front says "open when fate decrees it". that trelawney girl got a cheshire smile when I picked it up. I've had it for five years.

✦ also a train ticket from my very first year of hogwarts

✦ other trash in this pocket includes: a to-do list that says "1. ace your o.w.ls, 2. take over the world", at least four salazar slytherin trading cards, a receipt from the record shop in hogsmede, a punch card from the three broomsticks with ten punches in it (I probably should use it at some point), a scrawled list of hexes that barty copied from the restricted section of the library, and a note I passed to reggie that says "do me a favor, kill your brother" that he threw back at me with a scrawled "NO." underneath.

RIGHT FRONT POCKET

the snack pouch, basically. if I'm hungry, this is where I'm reaching.

✦ a chocolate frog that's probably melted slightly with how long it's been in there. I think barty gave it to me on the train ride. it's probably still good, right?

✦ raven chocolates that are literally better than any wizarding candy, trust.

✦ jelly slugs because gummies are the superior form of candy

✦ also chai teabags because you never know when you might need it (also because I'm picky about my chai)

SIDE POCKETS

LEFT SIDE POCKET

✦ my round sunglasses that are basically my staple.

✦ the swiss army knife that eden has a matching one of. i enchanted it so that the blade doesn't grow dull. honestly, much better than a wand half the time, but don't tell anyone I said that.

✦ vampire pill box that has enchanted ibuprofen. thank you dorcas my love. one of these does 10x the effect as a regular without the damage to your internal organs or risk of an overdose.

RIGHT SIDE POCKET

✦ a crocheted chanel rose made for me by evan's sister, pandora. it's hella impressive actually.

✦ my trusty vivienne westwood lighter. used to be my mom's, I took it from her purse as a well rebellious thirteen year old. it also has a matching cigarette case that I also stole. i was having my kleptomaniac era. there is also skull bandages tucked inside the case.

INTERIOR POCKET

where i keep all the loose things that would get lost in the bottom of my bag otherwise.

✦ tiny bottles of banned potions that dorcas made for me. I make sure to keep the corks on very tightly.

✦ a jar of human teeth. no, I will not explain where I got them.

✦ jars of bones. not human (yet).

✦ intricate jar, full of enchanted, basically holy, water. for all your banishing needs. never summon anything you don't know how to get rid of.

✦ a jar of salt. for the same reason. also salt.

✦ tin of tiny candles for on-the-go spellwork because you never know when you might need it.

✦ tiny clay charms of tarot cards also made by pandora. she passed them to me in divination. she never did tell me why. they are pretty cute though.

MAIN POCKET

✦ a leatherbound journal full of all my secrets. jinxed, obviously. possibly with some that I would get in trouble for casting. their fault really for trying to snoop. includes detailed plans of world domination, lists of hexes and curses ordered by their usefulness, recounts of possibly prophetic dreams, and lists of very good numbers

✦ poetry journal for my midnight poetic ramblings. not jinxed, not yet. also includes my casebook recounts of strange romantic feelings, complete with red string.

✦ my trusty wand. black walnut and dragon heartstring, 12"

✦ a lace fan for when it gets far too hot to be legal. because I can't be sweating not in style

✦ a very illegal time-turner hidden inside a matchbox. I probably shouldn't have told you that I have that.

✦ a vintage comb that I call my tactical comb.

✦ my leather bat-wing wallet. one of the most important things in this bag

✦ my black makeup pouch that mary poppins would envy.

✦ my heavily annotated copy of "scottish fairy tales" that I've had with me since my first year of hogwarts. I think there's more notes and highlights than actual text. and the notes are more journal entries than actual annotations.

✦ tiny bird scissors I stole from madame pomfrey. they're for sewing. I don't do much sewing. but I can chase sirius around with them, threatening to cut the stitches on his patches. it's very amusing.

✦ an extra lighter, clipped onto the inside of my bag, just in case my trusty one ever breaks. so far, it hasn't.

✦ a special edition of the strange case of dr. jekyll and mr. hyde, my favorite book of all time. this edition was a gift from reggie, who knows my love of it.

✦ a fountain pen for my sudden bursts of inspirational musing. enchanted to never dry of ink and never need to dip it. I stole it from my older brother, alastair. I can't help it, he makes such good enchantments.

✦ a fancy flask. yes, of course there's alcohol in it. what did you take me for, a lightweight?

✦ vivienne westwood gloves for the colder months, an enchanted lining to keep your hands at the perfect temperature, not too hot and not too cold.

✦ the box of my trusty tarot cards. they always seem to call me out. they also have a bit of an attitude. typical.

✦ a coin that's engraved with "one more chapter" on one side and "go to bed" on the other. for very important dilemmas regarding my sleep schedule. do I ever listen to it when it lands on "go to bed"? no, of course not. don't tell me what to do.

WALLET

✦ my galleons. the wallet is linked to my vault at gringotts so I don't run out of money, because that would be embarrassing.

✦ photos of my friends and I. i know, I know, very sentimental of me. — photo of dorcas and eden from one of the slytherin common room parties — a photo of me, barty, and dorcas with a mall santa. he looks like he's being held hostage. — photo of me playing chess with dorcas (off camera) while barty lounges across the bed, pouting because he lost to me minutes ago. — photo of evan, me and reggie at one of our families' stupid summer galas. having friends makes them more bearable. — photo of evan and me from one of the royals' summer outings — photo of me and barty on a late-night hogsmede outing — photo i took of dorcas at one of the slytherin common room parties as we dared her to chug her drink

✦ an id, so people know who I am. as if they didn't already, pfft. it is also fake.

✦ spare condoms. enough said.

MAKEUP POUCH

✦ my signature black lipstick. can't go anywhere without that beauty. enchanted for long-lasting wear. the touch-ups are hardly necessary, but it does make people look at my lips~ also enchanted with love magic so when he kisses me he thinks I'm god. (I think that might make it illegal, but who's gonna snitch anyway?)

✦ tinted chapstick for dry lips.

✦ a spare eyeliner pen, because none of my looks would be complete without eyeliner.

✦ a knife inside a lipstick tube. just incase one knife wasn't enough. also great to scare the shit out of your friends with

✦ extra mascara, also for touchups.

✦ a black nail polish. also for touch ups. though, usually not my own. barty can never seem to keep his nail polish from chipping for longer than a day.

✦ cannabis and rose roller perfume. in case my aura isn't addicting enough. enchanted by dorcas with glamour magic, obviously. she's literally a goddess.

✦ my chanel compact mirror that also answers most of my questions. "mirror mirror in my hand, what's the answer to question #6?"

✦ a vivienne westwood claw clip that I stole from my older sister, morgaine. she's so damn uptight all the time and she's still freaking about about losing this clip. it's all I can do not to laugh aloud.

✦ a shit ton of hair ties and bobby pins just strewn throughout the pouch. I'll lose all of them eventually.

[iamthatonefangirl]

Please please please make NSFW alphabet or headcanons with the winter soldier it's for my mental health ofc

anon you are literally a genius. how have I never thought about this before. this is a brilliant idea

here you can find my backstory/context for my version of the winter soldier. I wrote the nsfw alphabet based directly off this.

~~~

aftercare: this man sucks at aftercare, but he will always eat you out afterwards, no matter what.

more importantly, he stays. he doesn’t get up and walk away and leave you to feel abandoned. he’s not actively aware of it, but he's got his own abandonment issues, and he won't put you through that.

body part: total ass man, probably because he’s always fucking you from behind. he loves the view, loves grabbing your plush skin, giving you it a little smack to see it jiggle. 

on him, he's not picky. but whenever you try to touch his metal arm, or the scarring around it, he flinches away. he just doesn’t like it.

there was one time, though, when you were both laying in bed trying to fall asleep. you lightly traced your fingers over the outline of the red star on his bicep, and he just... let you. now that’s about the extent to which he’ll let you touch it (excluding when you’re having sex. he could give a fuck then.) 

cum: oh god it’s everywhere. he’s a fucking super soldier, he makes a mess all over the place. he’ll be jacking himself between your legs, coming all over your cunt, and somehow it’ll get in your hair. how? just,,, how??? you’ll never know.

in terms of making you cum, he’s still working on getting you to squirt. it’s like a challenge for him. and of course you’re not allowed to come without his permission. he loves knowing he controls your orgasms cuz he's a little shit.

dirty secret: he’ll never tell.

(he wants to get you pregnant just for the satisfaction of knowing he did. not to actually have a child. that’s his worst nightmare, so kind of a double-edged sword. (thank god for your birth control.))

experience: he’s not crazy experienced but he knows what he’s doing. he’s insanely observant, so in the beginning, he would watch you super intently for every single moan and reaction you’d give to his actions. he's pretty much got it down to a science now to make your body do exactly what he wants.

favorite position: he loves taking you from behind. it fills some deep primal urge within him that’s just about taking what he wants and making you take it. especially when he gets you on your hands and knees, and he gets to push your head into the pillow, making your arms give out… he could come on the spot. 

goofy: have you seen this man. not a goofy bone in his body. sad.

hair: he’s a hairy motherfucker. entirely unkempt. does not give a flying fuck about hair on you, either (he throws away your razor every time you buy a new one.) and of course he’s got the prettiest happy trail you ever did see. 

intimacy: he’s not really intimate by nature, more focused on getting you both off when he's fucking you, but every once in a while he'll give it to you soft and take his time to savor it.

there's little things, though, that he'll do, just the small actions like burying his face in your hair; brushing his nose with yours; running his hands over your scars, stretch marks, etc., that give you some semblance of closeness/intimacy even when he's fucking you within an inch of your life.

jack-off: he has an insanely high libido, which you can keep up with most of the time. when he’s gone on a job, he does what he has to do, but normally, there’s no time for that. so if he does jack off, it’s pretty rare. he’ll do it over your tits, though. 

kink: bondage, obviously. he loves to feel like he's in control, so most of the time, he's just tying your wrists together and pushing your hands out of his way so he can do his thing.

again with the control thing, he loves to choke you. the look of his hand around your pretty little throat does things to him. he's trying to decide if a collar would look as good as his hand.

location: anywhere in the house is fair game. and he means anywhere. there’s not a surface in the place that hasn’t been christened. 

motivation: his big thing is fucking you when he gets back from a job. he’s pent up, and tired, and needs to feel you the second he steps inside. there’s something about killing that makes his dick hard.

no: he’s all for being rough and giving you a few slaps when you ask for it, but he won’t ever do anything to legitimately hurt you. you’re still his and he doesn't damage his things. 

oral: doesn’t really care about receiving. if he wants to get his dick wet, it’s gonna be between your legs. he TOTALLY gets off on eating you out, though. when he's gone, alone, and missing you (he'll never admit to missing you) he thinks about the next time he gets to make out with your pussy.

pace: rough. fast. hard. he loves shoving himself into you and just letting loose without a care in the world. it's over in a heartbeat. but of course, that means you've got a few more rounds upcoming.

quickie: he’s gone about 85% of the time, meaning when he gets home and he fucks you, he’s going to do it rough and hard. you could argue that you mostly only have quickies, if you think about it hard enough.

risk: in terms of fucking anywhere else outside the house, it won’t happen. he honestly just can’t risk being seen in daylight. he also doesn't really see much as risky, given that he's a human weapon, but he's not really into doing anything risky anyways.

stamina: this goes without saying. he’s a super soldier. this man can and will fuck for HOURS at a time. at that point, you’re so tired and worn out, he slows his pace to softly fuck you to sleep. he’ll just keep going for hours and hours while you're knocked out. you’re more than happy to let him. 

toys: he sees toys as a threat, not a friend. he knows you have them and use them when he’s gone, but it pisses him off. he’s constantly trying to one-up himself from the last time he fucked you to prove to you that the real thing is better. 

unfair: have you seen him. every single thing he does is unfair, constantly teasing you to make you beg for him to fuck you. he loves bringing you to climax and then telling you no when you ask permission. if it was anyone else, you'd tell them to fuck off, but he makes it worth your while.

volume: he’s very quiet. he’s uber-focused on the feeling of you and would rather pay attention to the way you sound than himself, some part of him always trying to learn new things that make you moan.

he can’t help but hiss whenever he pushes past the stretch of how tight you are, and eventually lets out a few rough groans when he comes. 

he does let himself go when he’s using his mouth on you; it’s his fucking favorite thing, and he can’t help but whine and moan when he tastes you. one time you commented on it and he just grunted and kissed you to shut you up. 

wild card: the talking stage you had before him? yeah he killed that guy. (he doesn’t know you know.) 

oh, and the guy you said catcalled you on the block near your place. 

oh, and…

x-ray: for a man with that much aura, it’s a given that he’s highkey packing. dresses left and lovessss coming up behind you just to grind against your ass when he feels like it. you try to unbutton your pants to let him fuck you and he grunts no so you have to just let him do his thing until he's coming on your lower back.

yearning: you’re both horny motherfuckers who can’t keep it in your pants for a second. he’s on you all the goddamn time when he’s not off working. 

zzz: he doesn’t sleep much anyways, so it takes him a while to decompress and finally get to sleep afterwards. sometimes he’ll just lay there and watch you sleep, making sure your heart is still beating and your lungs are still breathing. he's so used to seeing people's bodies just... stop. and go cold. you’re the one person he actually cares to protect and make sure that never happens to. he'd probably burn down all of new york if that happened.

~~~

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[namelessgakusei]

EP. 2.1 Lead us not into temptation

Devil May Cry x Reader Insert

Warnings: It's DMC. Based on the New Netflix Series. Spoiler warnings for the actual show. Not proofread. It's hard to find gifs so have a pic instead.

EP. 1.2 COMBUSTION (prev.)

EP. 2.2 And deliver us from evil (cont.)

Synopsis: Mercenaries are hired, and a bounty was put over your heads. Enzo still insists on being your Dad despite it being untrue.

"My God. It's worse that I imagined."

Inside a certain conference room in DARKCOM HQ gathered various kinds of mercenaries, from rugged and scarred to spotless newbies, all waiting for orders about their target. On the other side of the room stood the five members of the DARKCOM Elite Ops, watching guard as they practically sneered at the group of people in front of them.

"An entire horde of—"

"Monsters." A fight broke out between the mercenaries, making one of the Ops members sigh, commenting if this is really the species they are trying to save. Thankfully, the appearance of the Vice President shut the commotion down, leaving the mercs gaping as to why an important person in power is standing in front of them. But as the room dimmed, Baines disregarded their shock, opting to go straight to the point and reveal the primary objective.

A red shard serving as a pendant.

"It is an item of critical importance to our national security." All the mercenaries fell back to their chairs, focused on the briefing of their mission. "However, seeing as this item officially does not exist, we need it retrieved off the books." Baines' expression hardened. After providing the amulet's location, he too revealed the current owner, showing the estimation of his abilities. "He's a man the US government considers a top-level threat."

"He is extremely volatile and prodigiously gifted in combat. Engage him only with the full brunt of your firepower."

Baines' eyeglasses reflected the light from the dim room, and after a pause, raised his head up, showing his grim expression. "His name is Dante."

The sight of Dante's grin all over the screen made the mercenaries guffaw at his ridiculous portraits, clearly underestimating him, saying that this much number of hired men is an overkill. However, a burly man that sat at the farthest corner of the room spoke up, his body littered with metal prosthetics as he looked at his comrades in pity. "Laugh while you can... You won't be much longer."

"I met Dante once. Worked with him on a protection job." This mercenary recounted the events of his previous jobs, confirming that Dante indeed is on a whole another level from the usual men for hire, and that if it wasn't for Dante, he would've been long dead. "And you'll all be dead soon enough if you go after him. No... You won't even be able to take a step within a hundred foot radius if you have the intent to harm him, not when he has that monster with him at all times."

The Vice President's eyes narrowed, and another set of pictures appeared on the screen behind him, showing another hunter that's comparatively calmer in their photos.

You.

"You meant (Y/N)." The sound of your name made the mercenary wince, the memory of your meeting still fresh in his mind. That uncanny smile of yours that did nothing but unsettle seasoned men like him, those that are all too familiar about the underworld, whenever you look their way. You fight well, like you've mapped out every single possibility that could happen, and it creeps him out. You're too prepared.

He still remembers how your eyes bore to him, scrutinizing his worth in mere seconds, like he's nothing but an item for you to appraise. It's like you know too much but chose to keep quiet, waiting for the right time to use your cards, a bona fide information broker within the world of Devil Hunters. "I'm not risking my life by hunting the two crazy bastards." He grunts as he stands up, a look of resignation on his face as he meet eyes with Baines. "Ain't no amount of money you could offer that'd be worth—"

"Five hundred thousand." That much made the mercenary stop himself from opening the door. "The bounty is 500,000 for whoever brings in Dante with the amulet." Baines' expression is unreadable, the light from the screen casting shadows on his face. "An additional 250,000 you also bring in (Y/N)." He fixes his glasses as he continues to negotiate, already knowing how to piqued in their interests. "And a bonus if they're both alive for questioning."

That enough made everyone grin and behave, even the mercenary from earlier became enthusiastic at the amount.

"We will be deploying a civilian asset to keep them distracted as you move in." The screen changes from your face to Enzo's. But the elephant in the room wasn't about the bounty on your heads, it's about the presence of DARKCOM's operatives at the side of the room, barely moving nor reacting to anything. One of the hired men even questioned their use if they'll be doing the all work anyways, having the gall to ridicule them as the rest laughed. The lone hooded soldier narrows her eyes at one of the mercenaries, before breaking into a knowing smile.

"These soldiers will be in the field, overseeing the operation. You'll deliver the package to them." Baines explained while running his eyes around the room, giving one last look at the number of cannon fodder for this mission. "The contract opens as of midnight tonight."

"That's all." The light returned to the room and one by one, the mercenaries stood up to leave. There was shuffling just outside the door, leaving many irritated grunts and huffs from the passing men, the source is the overly eager soldier wearing a DARKCOM Special Ops uniform. It's Anders, having fully recovered from his previous injuries and is now the newest member of the unit despite their Lieutenant's skepticism. He brought along with him the asset that shall be used to aid the extraction mission, a noisy Enzo, who complains about not getting a decent food during his stay.

The broker immediately shut up when he saw the people inside the room he was ushered in, laughing nervously while asking for a clarification about what he should be doing later tonight.

The air was tense around the building that night. Inside your shared apartment was the unnerving stillness, devoid of the sound of the TV or Dante's arrogant claims that has something to do with pizza and arcade while you lounge on the couch, unimpressed. It was too dark and quiet, a sight that only happened whenever the two of you are away on long term missions, usually in another city or so. But Enzo knows that he didn't give you anything after the set-up job, so it's a surprise for him when he opens the door, only to be met with nothing.

"(Y/N)? Dante? You here?" Nothing. The weight of the briefcase felt foreign to him, even if it just houses the usual monetary reward for the job. "(Y/N)...! It's your Pa! I've go—" A gun was shoved to his temple, with an annoyed voice breaking the otherwise stillness. "You are not my Dad."

You sneered at him with faux-disgust as he stumbled backwards in surprise, chuckling nervously while trying to keep you calm, only for another barrel to hit the back of his head as Dante smirks at Enzo's predicament. "Y-you are here! Thank God!" Your "Pa" sputters while raising his hands in surrender, saying that it's a relief since he thought he missed you. But your obvious suspicion remains on your face, before lowering your gun and sighing, Dante didn't, however.

"Hey, Enzo. How've you been?" His sing-song tone betrays his own doubts about the broker's sudden appearance, one that didn't got missed by the latter as he spun towards the young man and tried to get him to lower his weapon with humor.

Dante didn't.

"Wish I could help you out there." Your calm stance greatly contrasts the uneasy atmosphere. Seated on the couch with your legs crossed and an arm lazily draped over the back, you smiled brightly at your mentor. "But see, I've heard something funny from the walls. About his last job."

"Our last job." Dante corrects you without looking, leaning closer to Enzo as he keeps the gun on the man.

"Of course." You chuckled lightly, instead of the usual smugness known to only by close confidants, before returning your gaze to Enzo. "It turned out to be a setup so a shapeshifting demon baby could try to steal my necklace." Dante finished your words, closing in and jamming the barrel of his gun to the older man's neck. The broker turned to you for help but all he saw was your knowing, closed-eyed, smile. "It's the most curious thing, isn't it? You know how possessive he gets with that pendant."

Enzo laughs nervously, finally confessing that he might have set Dante up. But that it wasn't really his fault, no! He's just a middleman, a nobody, he swears! "It was the guy who gave me the job! The White Rabbit!"

The White what? Your face scrunched in confusion as you cocked your head to the side. "Like Alice's?" There are demons with animal-like creatures, but most of them opted to learn to try to pass off as human, so for Enzo to use the word the, it means that this isn't some common demon. Your question made him nod furiously. "He's the one who set the whole thing up!"

"See, he comes into my office, talking all smooth, a-and I'm mesmerized!" Of course, you sighed in exasperation. With how sweating your adoptive father is, you're fairly certain that he's telling the truth. "So you're saying you only sent me into a trap because a demon that looks like a giant rabbit tricked you into doing it?" Dante emphasizes by pushing the gun to Enzo's mouth, despite the broker practically begging the two of you to believe him.

"Dante." You sighed and stood from your seat, going over to them with a disappointed look for Enzo. In response to your words, Dante's previously furrowed brows relaxed as he pulled his gun away and stands up. "All right, that checks out."

"What are you doing here?"

The older man nearly sagged to the floor in relief, before pushing the briefcase to the table, saying that it's the second half of the fee for the setup job. "Just 'cause the job was fake don't mean you don't get paid, right?" Enzo shrugged and beamed at the sight of the wads or cash inside the briefcase after he opened it, caressing the money with such gentleness. "Pure, uncut, American green. And all you have to do was fight a baby for it." He beams at the scowling Dante.

"And my brother." Dante's jaw squared as he frowned. "The shapeshifter showed up again later disguised as him." Meanwhile, you inspected the money the moment Enzo got distracted, closing the lid upon confirming the legitimacy before noticing something off. "Nothing like how he'd actually look now, but still, it was a good effort." There was a blinking device at the bottom of the suitcase. A transmitter or a tracker, you don't know, but you went over to the window to throw it away, catching glimpses of people moving around the rooftops. Typical. And as expected.

Enzo tried comforting Dante by reaching out for his arm but the younger man pulled away. "I keep telling you. What's my only rule?" He looked at the broker with annoyance as he rummaged behind his desk. You walked back to the couch while stretching, donning your coat and grabbing your own briefcase, equipped with weapons you made on your own. "I'll take any job that pays, especially if it involves killing demons. Just long as I can do it with (Y/N), and not care about anything else." Enzo heard it too many times that he parroted it back. "I know, I know. But I have you the job, not them." Dante lifted his head from the table with a deadpan, making the other shrug and drop the argument. "So you and me, we're all good now, yeah?"

"You know I look at you two as my own children." Enzo turned around to beam at you, faltering upon seeing you drawing the curtains close. "Not my dad." You replied with a flat tone, making him slump his shoulders. "I would take a bullet for you two! ...Maybe not a bullet but a blade, like a little jab." He nods and turns back to Dante with such... conviction. "Point is, I would never set you up like that on purpose."

"So there aren't multiple teams of mercenaries outside, closing in around us right now?" You cocked your gun and raised a brow to your adoptive father.

Dante grinned.

taglist!: @mischiefmanaged71 @tamashithe2nd @im-just-a-simp-le-whore @96jnie

[ihni]

(On AO3 here)

~~~

Billy absolutely refuses to accept gifts.

This is annoying for several reasons, the main one being that giving little gifts to his boyfriend is one of Steve’s greatest joys in life. Or rather it would be, if said boyfriend would only shut up and take them. But oh no.

“What’s this shit, Harrington?”

Strange how Steve is always ‘Harrington’ when Billy is pissed.

Taking a deep breath, Steve prepares himself for the upcoming battle.

“It’s a shirt,” he says, simply, as if it’s obvious. Which it is.

“I can see that,” Billy says with disdain and holds the offending item out in front of him. “Why did I find it on my car seat?”

Here we go, Steve thinks. “Because I bought it for you,” he says, keeping his voice light. Before Billy can speak he adds, to make his intentions perfectly clear; “It’s a gift.”

Billy’s face twists into a grimace and the red fabric crinkles as he grips it in his fist. “I don’t need your charity, Harrington.”

“It’s not –“

“I can buy my own shirts.”

“I know, but –“

Billy pushes the shirt into Steve’s chest. “And anyway, I don’t want it.”

That is a blatant lie, and they both know it. Steve was with Billy at the mall and saw the way he looked at that shirt. Watched as he ran his fingers over the fabric, took the hanger off the rack, and then finally put it back, wincing, once he’d glanced at the price tag. Steve knows with one hundred percent certainty that this particular shirt is right up Billy’s alley and he knows that his boyfriend would love it, and wear it, and would have bought it himself if it had been cheaper.

But of course now, since Steve was the one who bought it, suddenly Billy doesn’t want it anymore. Because god forbid he accepts a goddamn gift from his boyfriend. Who can very well afford it by the way, thank you very much.

But while Steve thinks all of this, he doesn’t say any of it out loud. Because he knows that he’s not going to win this one. “Fine,” he says instead with a sigh, giving in. “I’ll return it.”

(He won’t. He’ll keep it, and then after long enough time has passed he’ll try to sneak it in among Billy’s belongings like it was always there, and hope it goes unnoticed. He’s succeeded before, twice, and that accomplishment may or may not have gone to his head. The back of his closet is now full of things meant for Billy.)

Anyway, this whole refusing-gifts thing. It’s annoying, is what it is, and it’s getting to be a problem. Spoiling the people closest to him has always been Steve’s way of showing that they’re important to him. And Billy is important – perhaps the most important.

Robin says that it’s a pride thing, and that Billy wants to prove that he’s independent – which is crazy, because he doesn’t have anything to prove to Steve. The guy moved out the same day he graduated, for fuck’s sake, into the shittiest little apartment Hawkins had to offer that he had somehow arranged to rent beforehand without telling anyone, and he’s currently working two jobs to be able to provide for himself and to save up for the future. He cleans his apartment when it’s needed, unashamedly goes to the laundromat once a week, and pays his own bills. No one with working eyes or ears can ever say that Billy Hargrove is not independent.

(Meanwhile, Steve is still living at home – but he’ll argue that his parents are so rarely there, so it’s almost like he’s living on his own – and is lucky enough that he doesn’t have to pay his own way. Which is just as well, really, because Family Video doesn’t actually pay that much. But that’s neither here nor there.)

Independence is, objectively, a good trait, but of course Billy doesn’t do anything in moderation. His stance on gifts has forced Steve to get … creative.

Once, when Steve had found the perfect present – a silver dagger earring with a tiny blue stone the exact color of Billy’s eyes – he didn’t even try to give it to him. He simply poked it through the hole in his pocket so that it fell to the asphalt when he walked ahead of Billy across the parking lot outside the dinner, and let Billy “find” it. Pretended to be disgusted as Billy excitedly picked it up from the ground and everything, even though on the inside, he was preening at Billy’s delight over his “find”.

See? Steve can be sneaky, when he wants to or when the situation demands it. And when it comes to showering his boyfriend with gifts, the situation definitely demands it.

Luckily, there is one thing that Billy will grudgingly accept even if he hasn’t bought it himself – one thing in the world that Steve can give him, that Billy won’t reject outright or start a fight about – and that thing is chocolate.

Expensive, luxury chocolate, to be specific. The kind that comes in golden paper boxes, or wrapped in cellophane, or packed in high-end tin containers with etched pictures of cities on the lid.

Billy won’t say no to a cheap chocolate bar bought at the gas station either, but that isn’t quite enough for Steve, who by now has a burning need to spoil Billy somehow. So, luxury chocolate it is.

It was an accident, when Steve first discovered this exception. Billy was spending the night – like he so often does when Steve’s parents aren’t home, because while he has his own place now, Steve’s bed is both more comfortable and big enough for the two of them – and they’d been bickering about what to make for dinner. Billy was cooking, because of course he was, and he’d been rifling through the cupboards looking for the fancy pasta when he’d emerged with a crinkled plastic bag that he’d apparently unearthed from the very back.

“What’s this?” he’d asked, frowning at the little brown lumps inside the bag.

Steve had taken one look at it and made a face. “Oh, chocolate biscotti. Mom bought them from Italy last year. Give me that, I’ll throw it out.”

Billy had looked positively offended at that, and cradled the bag to his chest. “Throw them out? Why?”

“Uh, because she bought them last year?”

That hadn’t seemed to deter Billy though, as he’d snuck one out of the bag and bit into it. Steve grimaced at the dry crunch of it, and took the opportunity to yank the bag out of his boyfriend’s hand while Billy was busy chewing and looking thoughtful.

“Disgusting,” Steve said as he threw the bag of stale old cookies into the trash can. “You’re gonna get sick.”

Billy had just grinned at him and thrown the last piece of biscotti into his mouth, eating that one too. Had even licked his lips, after, and eyed the trash can like he maybe wanted to try raiding it for more of the stale cookies. Steve was a good boyfriend though and hadn’t let him – had, in fact, distracted him quite competently – but he’d already seen the way Billy’s eyes lit up at the taste, and the next time he spoke with his mother, he asked if she would bring another bag home with her.

(She had been in France at the time, but she’d been happy to call the hotel she’d stayed at in Venice the last time she was there and arrange for a couple of bags of biscotti from the ‘cute little bakery down the street’ to be delivered halfway across the world, as well as bring back a veritable smorgasbord of baked treats from Paris.)

It was a game of trial and error for some time, while Steve tested his theory. Baked goods worked, although Billy seemed to favor cookies over buns and flaky things like croissants. Sweet flavors went over better than savory in general, which were hit and miss. But the real winner was the chocolate. All kinds, all flavors.

The first time Steve had brought out a box of chocolates (Swiss chocolate, purchased in France), he’d put it on the table during a Party movie night, for everyone to enjoy. (Billy rarely refused food when it was obviously meant to be shared, although he never ate anything until someone else had done so first.) It worked like a charm – under the cover of the dark and in the low light from the TV, Steve saw Billy reach for no less than five pieces of chocolate.

Unbeknownst to everyone, Steve had gotten two identical boxes of chocolate. Over the next couple of days, he sneakily filled up the first box with pieces from the second box, and made sure to leave it out on the table whenever Billy was over. And as it had been established to be a communal box of chocolates, Billy didn’t have any qualms about eating from it, which meant that Steve was repeatedly treated to the sight of Billy closing his eyes and smiling around a piece of chocolate, visibly enjoying each bite. It was a win-win; Billy got his sweets, and Steve got to provide for his impossible boyfriend.

Since then, Steve has made a point to ask his mother to bring home chocolate from all the places she visits, as well as ordered from several specialty shops outside Indiana. His mother is happy to provide, as she has always enjoyed shopping for the finer things in life. She no doubt thinks that Steve is using it to woo some girl.

Well, she is half right.

Steve thanks her every time she brings something home, and then he puts it away until his parents leave again, at which point he will come up with increasingly convoluted ways of making sure Billy gets to enjoy it.

“Oh, that? Yeah, mom brought it back from New York. I don’t really care for it, to be honest. It’s too sweet for me” and “My aunt gave this to me – her boss gave it to her for her birthday but like, she’s diabetic so she can’t eat it. You want it?” and “I don’t know why mom insists on buying sweets, she should know by now that I’m not big on them … But I don’t want to hurt her feelings, you know? So I just smile and accept them” and “I think I’m allergic. It’d be a shame to throw it out, though. You’d honestly be doing me a favor if you just took it with you.”

Billy, who is ordinarily too smart to fall for schemes like this, miraculously hasn’t caught on yet. (Or maybe he has, but plays along because deep down, he wants what Steve gives him. Steve prefers that theory.)

Of course, Steve has to continue his attempts of gifting his boyfriend with non-chocolate items as well, even though it’s mostly for show, because a) he doesn’t want Billy to catch on his strategy and also b) one of these days, he’ll get Billy to say yes.

He’ll wear him down soon, Steve is sure.

Until then, he’ll just feed Billy fancy treats and fill up the back of his wardrobe – maybe Billy will get a pretty red shirt for Christmas. It’d be rude, even for Billy, to refuse gifts on Christmas.

[mqdilen]

⭒ .๋ ࣭ ⊹ ˖ 「𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞—𝐯𝐞𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐲.」

fandom.: bungou stray dogs

synopsis.: bungou stray dogs characters reacting to seeing you in lingerie

ft.: dazai, chuuya, yosano, ranpo, atsushi & fyodor x afab!reader

cw.: !nsfw!, established relationship, vaginal sex, fingering, light bondage, oral sex, pet names, vulgar language

word count.: 2.6k (approximate reading time; nine minutes)

note.: wrote this instead of learning for my a-levels and i really just wanted to practice my character deception and smut writing (?) anyway, hope you enjoy!

☪︎

dazai.:

dazai doesn’t particularly care whether you’re wearing lingerie or not. don’t get him wrong—he appreciates the fine black lace and the way it frames your tits so nicely, making you look absolutely delectable. and the fact that you’ve taken the time, wondering if he would like it, makes his heart swell. but you could just as well be wearing knee-high socks and one of his shirts, and he’d still consider it lingerie.

that said, it is dazai we’re talking about, so expect a lot of teasing—either direct or laced with much innuendo. he absolutely notices the small things too—like the ribbon detailing, or if the lace has any patterns on it—really just letting the sight sink in. something about the sheerness of it all, about seeing you but not seeing everything, just arouses him. it feels scandalous. enticing.

---

dazai smirks the moment you start to undress, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he looks you over. “my, my, belladonna. Look at you, all dressed up so prettily for me,” he coos, slowly tracing the lace with his fingers, admiring the delicate fabric. he’s careful not to tear it. “you know, since you go to the trouble of wearing these, you might as well put on a show for me,” he says, and it doesn’t take long before you’re rubbing your clit through your panties, a noticeable stain already soaking the fabric.

desperate little moans escape your lips while he watches you, condescending but oh-so-sweet words falling from his mouth. “come on, bella. you can do better than that. right now, you’re not really deserving of my cock.” he says, seemingly having no regard for the current state you’re in and how much you want to feel him inside of you.

he fists his own cock right in front of you for a little extra motivation, the tip already leaking pre-cum and practically begging for your warm, slick cunt, almost making you drool at how ethereal he looks. every lazy stroke of his hand makes you whimper, the need between your legs growing unbearable. only when you’re soaking wet, your movements slower and more urgent, does he finally let you ride his aching cock—his eyes leaving your bouncing tits only to drink in your fucked-out expression. “tired already, love? aah, just a bit longer… your expression looks so beautiful right now.”

chuuya.:

chuuya likes you going out of your way to surprise him, especially with such a nice setting—your bedroom dim, jazz playing low, wine already poured. however, he never would have thought you’d surprise him with lingerie. not that he’s complaining, though. in fact, he loves seeing you like this, seeing the thigh stockings squeezing your plump flesh just right. he loves that you chose a bolder color too! although it wouldn’t really matter since anything looks gorgeous on you, but the red really has his focus. it’s striking, fiery, and impossible to ignore—just like you. and it’s such a nice contrast against your skin.

if he had known you were going to buy lingerie for him, he definitely would have kept you company, maybe made you try different sets on too, and perhaps have you suck him off in the dressing room.

---

as you slowly undress in front of chuuya, revealing your red lingerie, he’s momentarily stunned before letting out an amused huff. “appreciate the sight, doll,” he says, taking his sweet time admiring the stitching, drawn to the way the lace hugs your curves.

he orders you to take a spin, slowly, stopping once your ass is in view. he runs a gloved hand along the curve, snapping the fabric of the lace against your skin teasingly before spanking you once. you let out a whine at the slightly painful sensation before he traces soothing circles around the pink mark. his hand then slides between your thighs, one finger gliding along your clothed slit. he admires the way your body reacts to his touch before his hand reaches the curve of your ass again. this time, he delivers another slap—harder than the last, but still bearable.

despite his earlier reverence and the restraint he was showing, his patience eventually snaps, and he pushes you face-first against the window, tearing the fabric with ease. in his mind, you could always buy a new one, and he’ll gladly lend you the money for it if it means he gets to see you like this more often. he rubs his dick against your ass leisurely, drawing out little moans from you before he thrusts it into your already drenched cunt. “damn, you’re so fucking hot, darling. gonna fill you up good tonight. god—you have no idea how pretty you look right now.”

yosano.:

yosano had never seen you in any form of special lingerie besides the usual matching bra and panties you wear daily, perhaps sometimes decorated with a bit of lace. so it comes as a surprise when she sees you walking out of the bathroom in a delicate ivory lace set instead of a towel, especially when you said you’d only take a shower.

she’s confused for a second but definitely appreciates the sight, particularly since the set you chose looks somewhat vintage—much to her delight and in line with her sense of style. yet, there’s a subtle hint of disappointment in her, that you chose to reveal yourself in such a tempting outfit only now. then again, she could have taken the lead as well, considering how much she likes to tease you, especially when it involves such sensuality.

---

yosano hums in approval, arms crossed, a faint smirk playing on her lips. “well, look at you. i didn’t know you had such refined taste.” she steps closer, fingers grazing the hem of the lace, inspecting its quality. the floral details catch her attention, and she traces the pattern with a velvety touch before slowly beginning to strip the top off of you. as much as she enjoys seeing the creamy lace on you, she’d much rather see you without it, caressing your smooth skin with her bare hands.

“don’t worry. i think these might come in handy later,” she says in a suggestive manner, clearly hinting at something. and that something isn’t far off as she continues to strip you, planting feathery kisses along your soft skin. you enjoy the attention she’s giving you, feeling your cheeks grow warmer as her kisses become more demanding. eventually, she uses the lingerie to lightly tie your hands to the bed frame, your expression earning an amused chuckle from her.

she continues to plant kisses down your neck to your breasts, sucking on one of your nipples while teasing your clit with a deft touch. a soft moan escapes your lips as your body tenses up at the sensation, and you rub yourself against her, wanting her to touch you more. your gaze grows pleading as you look up at her, and she teases your entrance before pushing two fingers inside of you. you arch your back ever so slightly, craving her to push deeper. “tsk, tsk, tsk, what an impatient little thing you are,” she says before removing her hand, enjoying seeing you struggle, unable to feel her touch no matter how much you want to or how much you beg. “aw, don’t give me that look, dear. if you’re being good, then i’ll continue.”

ranpo.:

ranpo loves attention—your attention especially. he’s shameless about it too, always acting like he deserves to be pampered, spoiled, adored. even when he’s not trying to be sexy, somehow he still is—lying around lazily, smirking at you like he knows exactly what he does to you. he’s a brat sometimes, but that only makes it even better when you finally get to catch him off guard. though, that’s hard, considering he’s able to deduce what you’re planning from a mile away.

still, you try anyway, hoping he’ll miss just this one small detail that makes everything click into place. however, it seems you failed today’s attempt at surprising him. when you enter the bedroom in a sheer, soft pink lingerie set—the color reminding him of one of his favorite candies, which was probably intentional—he looks nowhere near surprised. or is he?

---

ranpo blinks up at you from where he’s sprawled out on the bed, having already suspected you were up to something since you took too long to change and he heard the shuffle of clothes. however, he didn’t expect this—so he’s definitely surprised, if only for a second. he’s blushing slightly before clearing his throat, trying to mask his flustered state. “oh? what’s this? a gift? for me?” he purrs, stretching like a cat as he sits up straight.

you roll your eyes playfully, noticing the faint blush on his cheeks and teasing him about it. upon hearing all your embarrassing words, he grows pouty, crossing his arms and looking away—though only slightly. a tinge of guilt gnaws at you as you crawl onto the bed with him, earning a chuckle when you try to comfort him, but he only acted out so you’d come closer without him needing to get up. you played right into his hands. “look at you... all sweet and concerned just for me,” he hums, brushing a finger along the curve of your breast as he admires the neat stitching of your top. “hope you don’t mind if I skip unwrapping you—i’m a little impatient tonight.”

before you can even tease him back, ranpo mouths hungrily along your throat, his fingers already slipping beneath the lace, shameless and greedy. your breath hitches as he suddenly clings to you, and you return the favor, kissing him with just as much desire. however, ranpo doesn’t hold out long, so he’s out of breath pretty soon, which means he makes you do all the work. of course, that includes you sucking him off with your tits out, too lazy to do anything himself despite the effort you put into wearing this just for him. but you oblige his wishes, knowing that what comes after will be even sweeter. “don’t worry, i’ll reward you after you finish, sweetheart.”

atsushi.:

atsushi isn’t used to being the center of attention, especially not the kind you give him. it doesn’t matter how many times you compliment him, how many lingering looks you throw his way—he’s still easily flustered. but deep down, he craves it, craves being wanted. he just can’t get over the fact that someone as beautiful as you actually likes him, wants him. it’s deeply rooted inside his mind from years of abuse at the orphanage that he’s not worthy of such love. though you slowly get him accustomed to it, step by step.

today is another step, where you want to show just how much you appreciate him with a little gift. he looks confused and nervous when he shows up, probably wondering if he missed your anniversary or something after you texted him to come over, saying you have a surprise for him. and when he sees you waiting for him in a white lace set, his heart races and his cheeks turn red. turns out, atsushi is utterly weak for white lingerie. the color feels so delicate, pure, and almost bridal, and the symbolism absolutely scrambles his brain—even if you didn’t intend it to be.

---

“you… what are you–!” he stammers, his eyes darting everywhere but you. it’s only when you tell him to look at you that he slowly drags his gaze back, seemingly a bit embarrassed. you take a few steps closer, allowing him to better notice the gorgeous yet simple set. it’s not too much, but not too little, and he appreciates that.

he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you closer, his breath hitching slightly. “you’re absolutely breathtaking. of course, y-you’re always breathtaking, but you know… this really suits you. i mean, everything you wear suits you but–” you shut him up with a kiss, asking if he likes what he sees with a teasing smile on your lips. he looks at you, a bit flustered, before sighing to regain his composure, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “shut up,” he says sarcastically, nipping at your neck before picking you up and laying you down on the bed. you giggle at the sudden movement, and he climbs on top of you, seeming a tad more confident than before.

“just so you know, it’s totally your fault if these get ruined,” he teases lightly before kissing down your chest, trailing lower until he reaches your pussy. he pushes the fabric aside and drags a slow, teasing stripe through your folds with his tongue. his hands grip your thighs, holding you firmly in place as his tongue circles and flicks, drawing desperate moans from you. when you’re gasping for air, he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his voice low and sincere. “you’re so beautiful, just like this,” he murmurs before diving back in, making your world spin with every lap of his tongue.

fyodor.:

fyodor and you don’t have sex very often, but when you do, it’s always a pleasure in itself. however, lately, you start feeling bored with the same old routine, craving something new. the timing just wasn’t right until now, and my god, do you look absolutely stunning in that white lingerie set. so pure, so innocent, and so angelic. he just loves seeing you in that color. it stirs something inside of him, like he’s defiling something sacred.

he just can't stop thinking about how beautiful you look... and how satisfying it will be to ruin you, to corrupt you. and the fact you did all of this out of your own will, just to please him, gives him such a power trip. it shows your devotion and submission to him, all the while feeding into his superiority complex, making him think you offer yourself to him—which, essentially, you do.

---

fyodor freezes in the doorway the moment he sees you—bathed in soft, warm light, delicate white lace hugging your body like a second skin. for a moment, he doesn’t move, doesn’t even breathe, his eyes drinking you in with a kind of reverence. a small smile tugs at his lips, deceptively gentle, as he steps closer. “how sweet of you,” he murmurs, voice velvety, a finger coming up to trace the curve of your bare shoulder. “dressing yourself up just for me… like a lamb to the slaughter.” before you can even respond, his hand tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze—the soft white lace suddenly feeling far too fragile for the things he has in mind.

you chuckle faintly, enjoying the way he undresses you with his eyes alone. fyodor toys with the lace, sliding the delicate fabric up your thighs while dragging his fingertips along your skin so lightly it makes you shiver. he hums thoughtfully, pretending to admire you as if he has all the time in the world, even as he feels you growing impatient. his hands peel away the layers of fabric, piece by piece, with agonizing slowness, making you desperate for him to finally touch you. “you dressed so prettily, myshka,” he says, his voice dripping with false sweetness, “and you expect me to ruin you so quickly?” his lips brush over your ear, sending goosebumps down your spine. he loves having this much control over you…

when you’re finally bare for him, he doesn’t waste a second, pressing you down against the bed and slipping between your thighs almost ferally. his fingers dig into your hips as he pushes into you, slow but deep, dragging a broken moan from your lips. the stretch burns just right, and he savors the way you clutch at him, needy and trembling beneath his weight. “so perfect,” he breathes against your throat, rolling his hips harder, deeper, like he’s trying to carve the feeling of him into you.

↪thanks for reading! reblogs are appreciated! MLIST

copyright © mqdilen 2025 all rights reserved.

[jollyhunter]

This feedback of you @lamentationsofalonelypotato, still makes me so happy 🥰😭 And my senile (you'll see once you crack the 30s) brain made me think I had reacted to this weeks ago.

Apparently it was all in my head.

OH LOOK OVER THERE *throws red herring*

Okay, okay, enough with the peep show - eyes on me now - back to business. 🤨

First I just want to say the "It's Ok. Writers Should Be Strange" is the best thing that I've seen this week and it is SO true.

ME TOO. I was looking for fitting quotes for the writer's block but when I stumbled across this one, it just spoke to me on a deeper level and I just had to add it.

Secondly… Thank you so much for tagging me in this, because it is LOVELY! I definitely needed Dean to help talk me through my writer's block and cheer me up 😭🥰 Thank you for your service- for literally writing this for all the writer girlies with imposter syndrome and writer's block who needed this today 🫡

In my head this quote fitted better lmao. I am happy it managed to cheer you up!! 🥰 It sure helped me writing it haha. Guess all those 'write what's on your mind' advices aren't too bad.

This is just a little thing, but whenever someone includes the word "audacity" in a fic I fall in love with them so congratulations 💐

LMAO I love the word as well. Funny thing is, I used to think it has something to do with sound because I only knew the word from the sound program 'Audacity' (like 10 years ago). Also the reason why I'd pronounce it as 'Auda-city' , 'cuz audio, right? 🤣😭

Yep. This is it. The travesty of writer's block- having it all in your head and not being able to actually put any of it to paper. And the writer's block (for me) only worsens when the frustration builds and builds being unable to write anything down. It's just (throws chair through window) just (starts aggressively peeling potatoes) just (eye twitching) just (slams on the keys) so annoying lol 😒

NOW YOU'RE KILLING ME 🤣 love how we're going from 'throwing a chair through the window' to something passive aggressive as 'slamming on the keys' 🤣 SO TRUE THO!

Also the "constipation" jokes are beautiful lol- I'm pretty sure that's the first time anyone has ever said that about constipation in general, but I am without shame 🤣 LMAO

Glad the joke worked, because I was hesitant about using the word in this context. LOL

I'm also not sure if i've told you this before, but I really like the way you write dialogue. In this it was a perfect combination of flirting and banter and it was just chef's kiss. It all seemed really realistic and I absolutely loved it!

No one has ever told me this before 🥺 - you're making cry over here 😭😭😭 Thank you so much!!! Writing dialogue's always been a bit daunting to me, mainly because I'm afraid I won't get the character's speaking style / accents correct, so hearing this means so much to me! 🧡

BUT OH MY WORD! I loved this one! The idea of writer's block being a "curse" was so imaginative and honestly just what I needed to make me feel better about my current writer's block curse 🤣😭 And also made me want Dean to waltz in to relieve some of that frustration 👀

You're very welcome 🧡 and oh yes, Dean would need to take his time in order to rid us of all that frustration 🤭

⋆ ˚｡⋆ PAIRING Dean Winchester x Writer!Reader [Early seasons vibe]

WARNINGS None! No use of Y/N. English isn't my native language.

⋆ ˚｡⋆ SUMMARY You're in your favourite diner; Got your coffee, breakfast, laptop in front of you. It's the perfect time to write. If it wasn't for the writer's block that's holding you in a chokehold. Oh, and the guy who has decided to join you.

⋆ ˚｡⋆ WORDS ~2k

⋆ ˚｡⋆ J/NOTES This silly little thing's dedicated to all my moots who’ve fallen victim to the writer’s curse just like me. I feel you. We can do this!! We can break the curse!!! 🫂

"Doesn’t suit you." A playful voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

"..Huh?" You look up just in time to see a well-worn leather jacket brush past your shoulder.

The booth seat across from you is being filled as a stranger slides in. A plate in one hand and a spoon in the other. Your eyebrows rise, and for a moment you debate whether to tell him the seat is taken.

But the guy doesn’t seem to notice your thoughts. He’s busy ogling his food, humming a curious ‘hm’, and then shoving a spoonful of cereal into his mouth. All the while he continues to mutter, his words now half muffled, "That thing you’re doing to your face."

You blink at him.

He puffs his cheeks, and green eyes travel up to meet yours for the first time, "Makes you look like the Grinch." His lips quirk into a smirk.

What? The audacity.

You stare at him with a deadpan. "Thanks for the compliment." He continues to chew, the flakes crunching. Accompanied by a content hum. Well, at least someone’s enjoying their breakfast.

"Just sayin’." He purses his lips before he eats another spoon, his cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk’s and an eyebrow arched. "What’s up with the face, sweetheart?"

"Uh," - is all you can manage at the moment. Too distracted by the way he's guzzling his yoghurt like a starved caveman. All eyes fluttered closed and nodding to himself like he's thinking ‘Finally, some good fucking food’.

He swallows. Tongue darts out to swipe a white dribble off his upper lip. When his eyes suddenly snap open, you avert yours in record time.

Your gaze's now fixed to the edge of the table, as if it’s the most interesting thing in the room. Left and right of it an elbow each. Of course you had to drop your gaze right between his arms. Well, this is awkward.

"You working on somethin'?" He suddenly asks, and you startle like a deer.

Your lips part - ready to form an answer - when you watch him splotching your notebook in slow-motion.

Your eyebrows twitch in irritation. You dart out a hand, just managing to pull your papers back before another dribble of his slobber taints your notes.

"Dude, please, you’re eating like a barn animal," you comment under your breath, face scrunched up as you wipe the stain off your paperback. Way to lose ones charm.

"But a handsome one," he quickly retorts. And stuffs another spoon into his wide grin, swallows and jerks his chin at your laptop. "So?"

Okay, fine. Maybe he still does have charm.

Your eyes follow his gaze down to the screen facing your way.

"I’m writing," you reply flatly, trying to hold his curious gaze as you tuck your papers safely under your forearms.

His expression flashes into a surprised one. Probably more at your tone than the answer itself.

Granted, the words 'I'm writing' should have come out enthusiastic. They at least used to. But that was before you’d been staring at a white screen for what felt like weeks.

"Uh-huh," he mumbles, the sound muffled as he keeps shovelling the muesli down his hatch. "Can I see?"

"W-what?"

How- how dare he? Only an uncultivated potato would ask that. This is like the biggest No-No. One does not simply ask a writer to look at their unfinished work. You don't stare at a painter when he's still painting. That's like asking someone to strip naked. And then have them bend over.

Let’s ignore the fact that there’s not a single written word to be ashamed of. Because there’s literally not a single written word in your doc.

"No." The answer probably came faster and more obvious of your inner panic than it should have, because to him it clearly translated to; 'Oh? Then I‘ll see it all the more.'

"Aw, c‘mon." His teasing grin spreads, the spoon tipped against his lower lip, "I won‘t judge." Damn it, why does he look kinda adorable?

Before you can react, the guy clamps the spoon between his lips, reaches over the table with his free hand and tilts your laptops screen back down.

"Hey!" you smack his hand away but it‘s too late - his grin just grows and he chuckles.

"Writing, huh? You mean you’ve been staring at a white wall. Here I thought you were writing some spicy stuff about me. What’s all the fuzz about?"

"I- I'm just... I'm still thinking..." you mutter and avoid his gaze behind a hand, trying to cover up the slight tint of embarrassment that’s crept onto your face. "I've got it all in my head, though." You try to back up your answer. He tilts his head back with a chuckle.

"All in your head, huh? For how long this been going?" he quips, lips twitching amused.

"Well, uh-" you begin, then clear your throat with an awkward rub of your neck, "A few days... or... weeks... maybe..." Your voice lowers more with every word until it's reduced to a sheepish whisper.

"Damn, that sucks." he huffs.

"Yeah," you admit with a heavy sigh, "It does."

For a moment you just share a look. His green eyes watch you closely. Calm and curious. But without ever being obtrusive. More like he's trying to get a read on you, like he's patiently waiting, allowing you to open up and reveal more.

And for some reason you find yourself to do just that.

"It's so frustrating, you know?" You begin and slump back in your seat. But he holds your gaze, the entire time and nods subtly, silently telling you to go on. "Like I've got all the ideas in my mind. I can see the scenes play out, can hear the characters talk. But the same moment I try to write it down, it all just-" you break off with a huff, gesturing a 'poof' with your hand.

After a moment, you add another frustrated sigh. "Honestly? Feels like the damn pipeline between my brain and hand's constipated." His eyebrows shoot up at that description.

"You’re an odd one," he laughs and sets the emptied plate down, "I like it."

"Pfff - look who’s talking. Mister 'handsome barn animal'." You jab and can’t help the chuckle. He smirks satisfied at your reaction, tugs at his leather jacket and winks at you.

You roll your eyes with a wide smile.

"What's your name?" You ask curiously.

"Dean," he answers simply. Then leans forward to rest on his forearms, "And you, sweetheart?" Your ears flush when he comes closer and you suddenly become very much aware of the effect his intense gaze has on you.

"I- uh, I'm -" you introduce yourself with your name and he repeats it with a smile, like he's committing it to his memory.

There's a moment of silence again and you don't quite know what to do or say - luckily he seems to have picked up on your inner distress.

"So," he begins, his face suddenly taking an air of - what was it? Business-like? Professional? You couldn't quite tell. "Back to your constipation."

"Yeah? What about it? You interested in my constipation?" You return the question, trying to imitate his new tone.

"Y-yeah," He tries to stay serious, but you both have to bite back a chuckle. "I am, actually."

"What about it?"

"This may sound stupid, but..." He mutters and rubs his forehead like he knows the question that'll follow isn't formulated very well, "Can’t you just, write? You know, like will it through?"

"No- That’s not how it works... it’s - it’s not that damn easy- it's - you don’t understand… It's not that I don't want to. I - I just - ugh-" You groan, face dropped to your hands.

You take a deep breath. The frustration of the past weeks threatening to break down on you again. Your eyes begin to sting and you screw them up in an effort to keep yourself from having a full on breakdown in front of a stranger. In a full diner no less.

"Hey, it’s okay, I believe you." he says with a lower voice now, the flirty attitude gone. The sudden change in his tone and his last words catches you off guard.

Your eyebrows pull together and you lift your head just enough to meet his gaze over the edge of your screen.

The air gets caught in your throat when you notice how close he is. He’s leaned across the table, emerald glinting pools searching your face for a trace of an escaped tear. His hand twitches but he puts it back down before it brushes yours.

"Don’t beat yourself up over it. It’s not your fault, ‘kay?" He murmurs. Almost like he’s sharing a secret with you.

"What? What are you talking about..?" And your voice drops to an equally low level to match his.

"You’re doing great, sweetheart. Trust me." He reassures you but avoids your question with another cheeky smile.

Although this one seems different. Genuine. And soft at the corners.

Unfortunately you don't even get to fully take it in when he's suddenly up on his feet. His eyes dart around the diner before they return to you, a hand raised to ruffle through his dark blond hair.

"I gotta go," he mutters, his attention suddenly drawn down to his empty plate, "Ah - Could you pay for that? You're a real sweetheart."

"..What?"

He doesn't wait for your answer as he slides out of the booth and rounds the table. When he's next to you, he stops for a moment and leans in.

"Oh and - Don't do anything stupid, okay?" He whispers. Then straightens his back again, throws you a flirty wink and a wave of his hand while he bounces off with a casual, "See ya~"

"Uh-" your gaze follows him, perplexed, before you echo his words under your breath, "Yeah... see ya."

You kinda hoped you would.

Wait- why would you do something stupid?

The diner door jingles when Dean steps outside. After a glance left and right, he walks towards a taller guy. He looks not much younger than him, but longer brown hair frames his face, his focus on the papers in his hands.

When their eyes meet, Dean jerks his chin at him and he follows him round the corner and out of sight of the diner.

"And? You got a lead?" He asks hopefully.

"Yep." - He pops the ‘p’ - "Looks like it's our lucky day, Sammy. I think we've got our patient zero." Dean takes charge and heads over to a black Chevy, his hands fidgeting in his pants pockets for the car key.

His bow legs bounce off the concrete floor while Sam follows him with long strides.

"You think it's a deal gone wrong? Or maybe some sort of black magic that backfired?" Sam thinks out loud as he flips through the journal in his hand.

"I don't know man. She seemed pretty clueless to me. Maybe Bobby was right, and it is a curse." The car lock clicks and the trunk flings open.

He pulls out a shotgun and props it up against the lid before he starts rifling through the various contents. "I don't even know what I'm looking for." He sighs.

Sam rubs his temple with equal frustration, "Great. How the hell do we get rid of a writer’s curse?"

"Beats me." Dean huffs, then tosses a set of wooden stakes aside and leans back to run a hand through his hair, "Maybe we should call Bobby again…" - he turns to flash a boyish grin at his brother - "...and then check her out some more?"

Sam groans, "Dude, can you not think with your dick, for two seconds please?"

"What? She’s cute. Plus, she’s got that whole ‘tormented soul’ vibe."

"Seriously? Chances are, that she’s the cause for all of this crazy crap that’s going on this city."

Dean’s smirk doesn’t falter. Instead he shrugs his shoulders unperturbed, "Let’s pay her a visit tonight. If she turns out to be a witch, we just gank ‘er."

"Dean," Sam scoffs and drags a hand down his face, "I know that look." Dean wiggles his eyebrows.

Sam shakes his head, followed by an incredulous chuckle, "Come on, man, you know you can’t charm your way into her pants. She's clearly not the type for a quick fling. And you’re not exactly Shakespeare."

Dean gets the shotgun out from under the lid and throws it back into the boot. "Oh Sammy, you've still got to learn a lot about women," he says, slamming it shut.

Sam rolls his eyes when his older brother turns to pat him on the shoulder, before he takes off to round the Impala. He pulls the driver's door open while Sam does the same on the opposite side.

"Mark my words, Sammy." He laughs and points a finger gun at him across the roof. "Every girl likes it dirty. Some just don’t show it."

If you reblog, I demand at least one gif of Dean that fits the last line. Cuz I couldn't find the one I was looking for and I want to wake up to many many flirty Dean gifs 😂

Dean Tag List

@aylacavebear @jc-winchester @ambiguous-avery @bettystonewell @lyarr24

@ladysparkles78 @v1v1-3 @maddie0101 @champagnepoets @livya99

@salemslostwitch @supernotnatural2005 @lamentationsofalonelypotato (I'm tagging you for this because our talk partially motivated me to write this ♡ and to post it even though I hate it lmao 😂)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Pent Up 6

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

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

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

Summary: you seek validation through online correspondence with incarcerated men, only for one to lock you down in turn.

Characters: convict/excon!Thor (silverfox)

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

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

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You peer around awkwardly, unsure of the fine silvery cutlery and which of the forks to use. You can’t help but feel out of place as you’re the youngest at the table; by decades. It’s surreal, like when your mom left you with your great grandparents as a child. She said it would be a few days but it turned out to be a month. They never had you back. 

You fidget and play with the frill along your left shoulder. The asymmetrical cut isn’t your favourite. You’re not sure what high school you was thinking, even if it was only a few years ago. 

“That colour is gorgeous on you,” Frigga preens, forcing you out of your anxious trance. 

You smile sheepishly. “Thanks. I... love your hair pin.” 

She touches the pearl barrette in her hair. “Oh, thank you, dear.” 

He uses the smaller fork, you think, to poke at her salad. You’re not into kale, you find it dense, but you know better to complain or decline. Just like with her son. You gulp and grab your fork. It’s like when your great grandmother made you that olive and cottage cheese delicacy you vomited into her garden. The salad is more palatable. 

You taste it, hoping the task of chewing can save you from talking. They all are exceedingly skilled at that and you don’t have much to offer. If you try, that screaming inside your head might escape to the outside. 

You wince as Thor rests his large hand on the back of your chair. 

“She’s a very clever woman. She works with electronics. Oh, and is she attending classes.” 

You swallow and nearly choke. He’s bragging about the lamest things in your life. Your job is boring and you don’t really do anything with the computers yourself. And classes... you’re just trying to pad your resume. 

“It’s very important to get an education,” Odin intones. “What’s more important is what you do with it. I spent a fortune on two engineering degrees for this one...” he shakes his head. “And look where he ended up.” 

You’re even more confounded by that revelation. Thor? An engineer? What on earth got him put in prison? You try not to delve too far into that riddle. It’s probably best to ignore that. How many red flags did you already ignore? What’s another. 

“It’s nothing special. Just... business admin. Basic stuff,” you shrug.  

Frigga’s eyes narrow and Odin tilts his head. They aren’t impressed and they shouldn’t be. That might be something. If they don’t approve of you... 

“And... I’m stuck with my parents still so... you know...” You add. 

“She is saving money. For us,” Thor assures. “You know things are difficult these days and father always said there is value in hard work.” 

“Mm, so I said,” Odin drawls. “Certainly, I hear your brother took that to heart. I hear he’s hired help.” 

“Oh?” Thor sniffs. “And still he could not come see me?” 

“He has not come to see all of us. Your mother only chanced upon him herself. Hasn’t even the time to pick up the phone for her--” 

“He is busy,” Frigga assures Odin as she pets his hand. “He will be here for your father’s birthday. That is what matters. And his assistant, she was darling. Though he was in a state. You know how he can be. Perhaps you might ask his advice, Thor. He could help you find some work.” 

“Hm, I suppose I could try asking,” Thor shifts, retracting his hand from the back of your chair. “I am not helpless. I have plans...” 

“Yes, son, you have told us the same many times. I believe the day before your sentencing,” Odin scoffs. “A bit old now to be falling back into bad habits.” 

“Father. I’ve turned myself around and she,” he reaches over to take your hand, your fork scraping your plate, “will keep me straight.” 

“Right,” Odin crosses his arms and leans back. “Don’t tell me so, show me.” 

“Father, I--” Thor clears his throat.  

Silence rises with a rippling tension. You look between his parents. You piece together the few clues you have. You can’t really begrudge them their doubt. You have your own. 

“Well, I have one in particular,” Thor pushes his chair back and keeps hold of your hand.  

He slides your fork free and puts it on the table. You peek up at him, confused. He kicks his chair back and he turns, lowering himself to one knee with a grunt. He digs in his pocket with his other hand and pulls out a band with a large diamond sparkling in the light. 

Frigga gasps and you gurgle. Odin sighs. 

“My queen, how I’ve waited so long for us to be together and now I can’t hardly wait for it to be. Please, will you make me your king?” He holds up the ring. You could fold over and evaporate into the floor. Sweat glazes over your face and your scalp itches. What do you say? 

“Um,” you sniff and blink. Your options are many. You really don’t have any. You’re too afraid of even saying no to him. Even with witnesses. “Yes?” 

He squeezes your hand and you let out a fluttery noise. Your heart is thumping, deafening you as the world pinpoints to his grip on you. He opens his hand and slides the ring onto your finger. You stare at the large rectangle diamond framed in smaller diamonds on a gold band. It must be expensive. 

A chair scrapes and you wince. You look over as Odin clucks and turns on his heel. He swipes up his can from against the table and marches out. Not a word, not a look. You look at Frigga as she gives a gentle smile. 

“He’s in shock, I think,” she says. 

You glance at Thor as he stares after his father. His face falls. He lets go of you and gets up, another groan as he does. He sits in his chair and frowns. 

“I thought he’d be happy,” Thor mutters. 

“Oh, of course he’s happy for you, son,” she affirms and reaches across to her son. He takes her hand. “I am. Don’t you worry.” 

“He didn’t say anything,” Thor sneers. 

“Thor, it’s been a lot. You’ve been away from us for so long and now this... it’s all very sudden. We’ve just met this lovely woman.” She looks at you kindly. “What are your plans? For the wedding?” 

“I have my trust,” Thor recoils and crosses his arms, almost petulant. At his size, the bratty demeanour is almost laughable. “I was not entirely unproductive in prison. I only ever did what needs to be done. Mother, you know I am not a cruel person. I’ve made mistakes, I admitted them. And you all hold it against me.” 

“No, we don’t, darling--” 

“You do! But only my diamond forgive me. She is so kind and--” he huffs. “He couldn’t even stay and face me. Congratulate me. Worse, he’s disrespected my future wife.” 

Wife? You could faint. You brace the sides of the chair to keep from doing just that. 

“Dear,” Frigga’s eyes meet yours. “Are you unwell?” 

You shake your head. You lean forward and catch yourself against the table. You reach for the tall glass by your plate. 

“I only need water,” you assure her. 

“Mm, yes, we shouldn’t let all this go to waste,” she tuts. “You know, your father just needs time. He is like you and your brother. You only need simmer in your thoughts then you come to sense. Eventually.” 

🩷

Leaving brings both relief and dread. You are glad to be free of the repressive exuberance of Thor’s family estate but uneasy at the prospect of being alone with him. Again. 

You sit in the passenger seat and stare at your hand. The large stone is as heavy as a boulder. You are not Sisyphus. You’re not sure how much further you can get it up the hill. 

“I am so happy. Are you?” He asks. 

You sit up and suck in a thick breath. You are many things. Afraid, lost, almost mourning. You regret being so stupid. Those idiotic emails were only meant to be... well, an ego boost. You are so pathetic, you wanted desperate men to tell you lies. And you told your own. 

“Thor,” you utter cautiously. “It’s a very nice ring and a very nice gesture but... I’m still very young and I don’t have much. I think maybe--” You pause and weigh your words; does the boulder roll back to the bottom of the hill? “Maybe that’s why your dad wasn’t happy. Because I’m not—not the right person for you right now--” 

He slams on the brakes. You squeal as the seat belt keeps you from hitting the dash. A car honks and serves around him. He ignores them. 

“Not right for me? You are the only one for me,” he insists. “My queen, you said yes to me.” 

“I did. I—I didn’t want to have this conversation there. It’s not that... It’s... I’m... I have to finish school and right now isn’t good for me--” 

“You don’t need school. I will take care of you--” 

“Thor, I can take care of myself--” 

“It is my job to take of you,” he snarls. 

You lean away from him, startled by his deeper tone. In the cabin of the truck, he is even bigger. You wipe your sweaty hand on your skirt. 

“It’s very sweet of you but--” 

“You said yes,” he growls. 

You blink, eyes tinging with moisture. You wet your lips. Your throat is scratchy. 

“Yes,” you nod. “Thor... My parents... you know, I think maybe before we decide anything I need to talk to them.” 

“Oh, I will be speaking with this man, this stepfather of yours. I will not be asking anything of him either. I will be telling him,” he says. 

You gulp. While the idea of him intimidating Andy is on the surface amusing, it’s deeply troubling too. You don’t want your family to know anything about Thor. 

“Well, let me talk to them first.”  

Another car honks and you look out the back window. Thor is unbothered by the roadblock he’s caused. You are about to melt into a puddle. 

“Can I be honest?” You ask. 

He stares and nods. The lines in his face trace his displeasure. Your eyes wander to his rounded muscular silhouette and his thick hands. The intrusive thought of them around your neck make you squirm. What if he killed someone? 

“I didn’t tell them yet,” you blurt out. It’s true but still a lie because it isn’t the truth you kept from him. “My family. I never mentioned you. I... never told them about anyone so I think they might be surprised and, so, er, can’t you let me... tell them first?” 

He looks at you. His forehead wrinkles. He exhales through his nose. Another car lays on their horn. He shakes his head and sits straight. 

“I suppose...” he mutters as he hangs his head. The horn continues to blare. 

He grips the wheel and he face twists in agitation. He peels his fingers off and balls his hands to fists. He hits the steering wheel and snarls. 

Before you can react, he taps the button on his seat belt and it retracts. He swings open the door, mindless to oncoming traffic, and gets out of the car. He lands heavy on his feet and marches along the side of the truck. 

You panic and scramble to untangle yourself from your seat belt. You fall out of the truck as you hear him hollering. 

“You honking at me?” Thor barks as he approaches the other car. “You’re messing with the wrong man.” You sprint around the truck bed as he gets to the driver’s window. He bends to snarl through, “why don’t you open up and face me, eh? Coward!” 

“Thor, please, get back in the car,” you scurry over. “Please, we’re in the way--” 

“No, he has no patience!” He hits the top of the car and leaves a dent. You gasp. It looks as if it took him no effort at all. 

The man in the car is frightened. He curls over his wheel and revs in a futile effort to scare away the raging giant. You grab Thor’s hand and pet his forearm. 

“Thor...” you peek once more at the scared driver. It’s your fault. All of this is your fault. “My king.” You coo at him shakily. “Please get back in the truck and take me home.” 

“He is disturbing us! He could go around--” 

“Thor!” You nearly shriek. “How can I marry you if you are so angry? If you do not listen to me?” 

His eyes round and he twitches as if he’s been struck. He looks at you and his face turns grim. “Marry me?” 

“I didn’t-- I wasn’t saying no. I was just saying—asking for some time,” you look him in the eye, caressing him, calming him like a riled dog. “But I can’t marry someone who does these things.” 

He lowers his head. He actually looks guilty. He nods and turns. He bends and taps gently on the window. He waves his hand. 

“Sorry about that. Bad day,” he gives a sheepish grin. “Here.” He lets you go and takes out his wallet. He takes out a couple of bills; each at least a hundred dollars. “For the roof.” 

He tucks the money under the wiper and stands straight. He latches onto you again and drags you away. He sighs out the tension. 

“You are right, my queen.” He says. “This is why I need you. To keep me in my right mind.” 

[misteria247]

Frank could admit to his supposed flaws. Out of all the neighbors, he was the one who was the most prickly, so to speak. He went with logic rather than feelings and was the polar opposite of his best friend Julie. He could admit that his snippy personality could make him difficult to be around. That it could make him unapproachable to some. Yet he wasn't an unreasonable man or puppet. But at the moment.....

'I'm gonna start killing people.'

The grey puppet thought briefly as he grounded his teeth to not get into an argument. Praying to any deity out there to give him some patience. To spare his last nerve that was on its last leg. Across from him was Barnaby, the large blue dog puppet looking just as annoyed despite his easy-going grin.

"I just don't think it's a good idea exposing us."

The larger male said his tone lazy but firm. Frank took a deep breath, reminding himself that Barnaby was only thinking about the others. Just like himself.

"We can't keep this hidden forever. Sooner or later (Y/N) is gonna find out about us. And I think it'd be wise if we eased them into this rather than spring it on them."

Frank explained, trying to get Barnaby to see what he was saying. Just as he'd been trying to in vain to get him to see for the past two days.

"And what makes you think that we can trust (Y/N)?"

Howdy piped up, ever the question asker as much as a salesman. His eyes were narrowed a bit, staring Frank down. The smaller puppet wasn't phased, but he didn't respond. He didn't know how to convey that just from watching you for these past few weeks, he'd just got this gut feeling that you were trustworthy. Not in a way that was the logical manner that he was known for.

"Because they've been fixing us up! Despite all the bumps and road blocks, (Y/N) has done nothing but put us first! If they're willing to fix us old puppets, then I'm sure they're trustworthy!"

Julie chimed in, speaking Frank's thoughts exactly.

"I mean, look at my dress! My hair! Eddie's mailbag and Poppy's feathers! For goodness sake, they'd cleaned you up Howdy! And they just finished Frank's vest!"

The chipper puppet explained, holding the end of her red dress to show your handy work. The tears and holes that once littered the skirt were now patched up with adorable flower styled patches that were sewed on and ironed on. Some of them looked a bit bad, but they were stable enough to stay in place until you could figure out how to make them look better. Yet it was clear that they were done with care. And you'd gotten quite a few burns and pricks from trying to fix it. Poppy, who'd been quiet, jumped a bit, her feathers looking much better since their arrival to your home.

'Countless hours spent preening and fixing those feathers.'

Frank noted remembering how long it'd taken you to get the worst ones out.

"Julie darling....just because they fixed us doesn't mean that they're trustworthy with this."

Sally replied, sounding like she was exhausted and uninterested. The actor was next to Poppy, looking rather unimpressed with Julie's arguments.

"Now, now, let's not fight, please. This is a discussion, not an argument."

Poppy said, ever, the motherly one, as she sensed the possibility of an argument brewing. Julie, who had opened her mouth to reply, closed it, and Sally just sighed, not commenting.

"Well.....I don't know about you and Ms. Starlet, but I agree with Mr. Frankly and Ms. Joyful. (L/N) has been nothing but thoughtful. I think if we just explained, they'd understand."

Eddie, who hadn't really given his stance, put in. Frank looked at the larger mailman, who was nervous but steady in his words. Not wanting to stare too long, he quickly looked away.

"This could end badly if we tell them, you three realize this, right??"

Howdy asked his tone, judging.

"Howdy is onto something, pal. I'm not saying that (Y/N) is a bad person, but they're not him. Humans aren't always nice."

Barnaby threw in, looking a bit regretful at Julie and Eddie's expressions falling. Poppy and Sally didn't say anything else, but by their expressions, they were taking Barnaby and Howdy's words into consideration. Frank wanted to tear his hair out because he understood where they were coming from. He knew humans sometimes were not kind, especially to people or things who were different. But he couldn't give up. Something within him just couldn't let himself completely agree.

Not after watching you fix and clean them. Not after having you talk to him, always friendly save for when you were tired from work and other things. Not after watching you burn, cut, and prick your fingers and hands so much just to make them look better. Everything you did, it just screamed kindness. He wanted to give you a chance to be eased into this, not be taken by surprise.

You deserved that much, at least.

Frank steeled himself to again argue his, Julie, and Eddie's case on trusting you when a voice spoke up.

"No, they're not him. (Y/N) won't ever be him, but........they have his kindness. They've spoken to us and treated us like living beings. I think.....that they can be trusted."

Wally, who had been silent the entire time, had caused them all to quiet down and look at him. The smaller yellow puppet was calmly sitting on your armchair, a thoughtful expression on his face. Frank could see the others' expressions becoming resigned despite their displeasure. While Julie and Eddie perked up immediately at another one of their group agreeing.

"Wally buddy...."

Barnaby started to say, but Wally looking at him with a head tilt, quietly listening to his best friend, made him stop. The dog puppet just gave a sigh, knowing that Wally wasn't one to put his opinion in unless he was sure. And trying to change his mind was futile.

"I don't like this. You better think of a plan on how to do this, Frank..."

Barnaby said, gaze boring into him. Frank just thinned his mouth, meeting it head on.

"I always have a plan, Barnaby. I'm a bit offended you'd think otherwise."

[queen-of-the-avengers]

I Kissed A Girl

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1k (including lyrics)

Warnings: high sexual tension

Summary: You go to the club and unwind from a stressful week, not knowing you’re going to try something you end up liking more than your boyfriend.

Square Filled: a round a firsts for @womenofmarvelbingo (previously @blackwidowbingo)

Author’s Note: this is based on the song I Kissed A Girl By Katy Perry

x

This was never the way I planned Not my intention I got so brave, drink in hand Lost my discretion It's not what I'm used to Just wanna try you on I'm curious for you Caught my attention

You grab your fourth drink from the tray and enjoy the burn as you toss the shot back. It’s the end of the week, and what better way to unwind than to be out with your girls at the club? It’s not even work that has you stressed, it’s your boyfriend. He’s treating you more like his mom rather than his girlfriend. It’s exhausting and takes a real toll on your body.

“So, what’s the latest Theodore drama?” your best friend, Harper, asks.

“Well, I was supposed to hang with him tonight, but he decided to blow me off for his ‘boys’. I don’t know, I haven’t seen him in a month. We text, but it’s bland. It’s like all the effort with him has disappeared.”

“Dump his ass!” Violet, your other friend, yells over the loud music.

“Seriously, he’s such a loser,” Luna agrees.

“Maybe I should. There’s no spark anymore. He’s a good boyfriend if you don’t count the way he doesn’t put me first.”

“That’s not a good boyfriend,” Harper says. She grabs another drink from the fifth round and hands one to you. “Here, have a shot. You need to loosen up more.”

‘You’re just trying to get me drunk,” you laugh but take the drink anyway.

“That’s true.”

“Well, I need to go to the bathroom. Be right back!”

You down the shot before pushign your way through the crowd. You’re already buzzed, so it seems like there are more people in the crowd than there actually are. On your way back, you notice a woman dancing by herself in the middle of the dance floor. Men try to get her to dance with them, but she ignores them and continues to feel herself up. She looks so beautiful, you can’t pass her and not dance with her.

“Care for a partner?” you ask.

“Sure,” she grins.

“You here by yourself?”

“Well, not anymore,” she flirts.

You’ve never flirted with a woman before. You’ve only ever had boyfriends. This is something completely new to you, and you’re not upset about it. You step out of your comfort zone and start to dance with her to the beat of the music.

Her lips are cherry red, and you find yourself thinking what it would be like to kiss them.

No, I don't even know your name It doesn't matter You're my experimental game Just human nature It's not what good girls do Not how they should behave My head gets so confused Hard to obey

You don’t know her name, and you honestly don’t want to know it. You just want to be in the moment and enjoy the feelings she’s pulling out of you. Like how it feels really good to dance with her, to have her attention on you. You pull her closer to you so you can speak closer to her ear.

“Can I buy you another drink?”

“Sure,” she smiles.

“Don’t go anywhere.”

You make your way back to the bar where your friend sare at. They have a direct line of sight to you on the dance floor, and they’re no less than shocked.

“What are you doing?” Luna asks.

“I honestly have no idea. I have no clue what her name is, and if I’m being completely honest, I kind of want to kiss her.”

“Go for it,” Harper encourages. “Fuck Theodore. He’s not here.”

“You know what? Hell yeah. I’m going to go for it.”

You grab two drinks once they’re ready and head back over to the stranger. Natasha came here to unwind from a grueling work week. She never expected to meet someone, much less meet a woman. She’s always used her body to seduce men for intel and other things she’s needed. She’s never once envisioned herself with a woman until you showed up.

“Here you go,” you say when you reach her.

“Thank you.”

Natasha downs the drink in one go, but some of the liquid drips out of her mouth. You watch the drop of alcohol slide down her jaw, down her neck, and disappear into her cleavage. Fuck. You shouldn’t be thinking such dirty thoughts about anyone, especially since you have a boyfriend. 

Still, that’s not enough to stop you.

Us girls, we are so magical Soft skin, red lips, so kissable Hard to resist, so touchable Too good to deny it Ain't no big deal, it's innocent

The beat of the music rushes through your veins, and you pull Natasha closer to you. She grabs your hips and moves them along yours in tune with the beat. Your eyes are hooded, with your gaze on her lush red lips. So kissable. She’s hard to resist, so you wrap your arms around her neck and press yourself closer to her.

Her eyes meet yours, and you can see the want, the need, inside of them. It looks like she wants this as much as you do, so you throw all fucks out the window and go for it.

I kissed a girl and I liked it The taste of her cherry chapstick I kissed a girl just to try it I hope my boyfriend don't mind it It felt so wrong, it felt so right Don't mean I'm in love tonight I kissed a girl and I liked it I liked it

You lean in and press your lips to hers delicately just in case you got this whole thing wrong. However, she doesn’t pull away from you. She deepens the kiss when she tilts her head to the right, and she swipes her tongue over your lower lip. The second your tongue touches her, it’s like a spark goes off.

The spark you’re missing with Theodore. Maybe it’s not him. Maybe it’s because he’s a him and not a her. Fuck Theodore. You’re giving this night to yourself. Falling in love isn’t on the cards for tonight, but you’re going to go home later and know what it’s like to kiss a woman, this woman.

Natasha pulls away from you and whispers something in your ear, but you’re too drunk to understand what she’s saying. You watch her walk toward the bathroom, and you grin at the taste of her cherry chapstick.

Fuck, you kind of liked it.

x

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[crescenthistory]

I'm so excited to see you're having a celebration, congratulations on the followers lovely!!

could I get you to argue for the red strings of fate au with bartylus x fem!reader. Maybe Regulus can see the strings (not everyone can) and has at this point told Barty about the two of them (though i see him having been extremely reluctant to at first and getting all angsty about it). But there was always another string and they never figured out who it was while at school. Maybe they start new jobs as adults and Regulus realizes the third is getting pulled more often so they must be nearby, but they are constantly MISSING HER. Culminates in them meeting, yada yada yada

Okay, kind of a lot of details, I had thoughts lol. Feel free to trim or edit wherever you please ~

thank you so much my love, you are an angel<3 this one was the hardest to write for some reason, but wound up becoming one of my absolute favourites! so thank you for challenging me xx art by vidhic0re

✶・•・✦・•・✶・✶・•・✦・•・✶

i will ARGUE for prompt 65 "red string of fate AU" with poly!bartylus

carina's 2k celebration

✶・•・✦・•・✶・✶・•・✦・•・✶

cw: fem!reader, reg pov, established bartylus, suggestive scene, barty has abandonment issues (and thus is worried about a third soulmate), referenced mental hardship for them both, very fluffy, first-meeting

wc: 2.2k

Regulus had grown used to his life with an unknown string; comfortable, even.

When he met Barty at age 11 and could for the first time in his life see the end of one of his two strings, he had been too young to feel truly excited over it. Rather, it just became a fact of life for the two of them, something put aside for the time being and scheduled to be brought up again at a later point.

Barty couldn’t see the string, so he didn’t really get what Regulus meant all those years back when he mumbled “oh, we’re connected”. The scene he caused when someone explained it to him at a Yule Ball, and he barged up to Regulus, drunk out of his mind and confused, heartbroken and in love all at the same time, is one that still haunts them both. Just like untangling a knot, they talked it out in the hallway and then in the common room and then in the dorms and then in every other room they were in for the rest of their lives.

Because it was officially for life – and despite his jokes, Regulus would never have it any other way. 

The only thing that was left itching on his curiosity was this still-strange string. The one he had told Barty about, only to have him blow it off, calling it unimportant because “all I need is you, baby”. 

Regulus couldn’t disagree with that sentiment, but the curiosity still lingered. 

It lingered over months and years as they broke away from their families and bought their own – rather cramped, now without their money – flat in the boroughs of London. It lingered as they settled down in their separate lines of work and tried to make a life worth living. It lingered as the string would be taut or slack, almost as if their third was out there, swirling close and then away, just outside their periphery. He never pulled on it, even when his mind swam with possibilities.

Regulus climbed the ranks and became the manager of a new quill and parchment shop to rival Scrivenshaft's and Scribbulus, while Barty jumped from job to job, having a suspicious amount of commitment issues for someone quite literally tied for life to his boyfriend and some stranger. He had dabbled in everything from freelance bountyhunter that took too much enjoyment in hauling in extremist bloodpurists, to stand-up comedian that made himself laugh more than anyone else. It made Regulus roll his eyes, but Barty’s adventures truly were his greatest source of entertainment. 

Said entertainment was what brought them to a hotel room in Paris, lazily making out on the pristine white bed on the top floor. Barty had the wild idea of auditioning for a muggle circus there the day after – “just a momentary thing, Reg, c’mon, don’t you always call me a clown?” – and Regulus decided to make it into a faux couple's business trip to ensure his partner didn’t accidentally break the Statute of Secrecy. He told the higher-ups at his job that he was visiting their Paris branch for a few days to learn how to improve. Quite frankly, Regulus made them too much money for them to argue. 

“Be honest, you only came along because you wanted me all to yourself before I become a world star,” Barty teased against his lips, body sprawled out over Regulus’, tattooed hand resting idly around his neck.

Regulus let out a breath in between kisses, fighting an indulgent smile. “I want to make sure I get to keep you without your arse getting thrown in Azkaban.”

“What about my arse, hm?” Barty murmured, lips divulging on a path down Regulus’ jaw that was bound to turn his brain off.

There was but one thing that could break through the delicious haze of Barty.

His string pulled.

Regulus’ hands suddenly shot up to Barty’s face, gently but firmly pulling him away as his lips parted in shock.

Barty’s brows furrowed, concern beginning to seep in already. “Reg, wha–”

Regulus hushed him. His gaze was fixed, almost hypnotically so, on the shimmery red string that stretched out from his wrist, the one that only ever he could see or touch. The one that was currently drawn taut and shaking as if someone…  “I don’t believe it,” he whispered.

“Spit it out, Regulus.” Barty’s face was still filled with concern, taking on the tone of no-bullshit that was reserved for when he was worried his boyfriend wasn’t communicating with him. 

Remembering himself, Regulus let his thumbs brush gently over Barty’s cheeks, soothing. “I’m sorry amour, it’s just… the string. They’re pulling on it.”

A wave of relief and slight frustration washed over his face. “Merlin, Reg, that’s it? You had me thinking it was something important.”

This brought Regulus’ gaze back to Barty’s again, and this time, it was his turn to furrow his brows. “It is important, B. They've never pulled before, never been this close.”

His boyfriend dragged his hands up and down Regulus’ sides, soothing in their own right, as if trying to reassure any emotive reaction out of him. “Well yeah, sure, it’s intriguing, but it’s not gasp-mid-snog-and-make-your-boyfriend-piss-himself important.”

Regulus couldn’t help but snort. He began to sit up, pushing a willing Barty back with him so that they were sitting facing each other on the bed. Tentatively, Regulus intertwined his fingers with Barty’s on the hand the strings were attached to, his free hand coming up to trace the strange string in the air.

It was hypnotising – even Barty, who couldn’t see the string, watched Regulus’ fingers tracing the air reverently with rapt attention. “They’re here, Barty,” Regulus whispered, looking up at him through his lashes. “I’m sure of it. That is important.”

For a beat, Barty didn’t say anything, eyes flickering back and forth between Regulus’ as he breathed out slowly. Then, he drew the air back in sharply between his teeth, as if pulling a decision in with it, and squeezed Regulus’ hand.

“Alright then – let’s go find the poor sucker.”

This time it was Regulus’ turn to be bewildered, trying to hold onto Barty who was already moving away from the bed, free hand reaching out towards the hotel door.

“I– wha– Barty!” Regulus all but hissed, trying to hold him back. “We can’t just– barge in, we have to think this through.”

His boyfriend scoffed and rolled his eyes, all while wearing his signature grin. He turned on his heel, dragging Regulus closer to him by their intertwined fingers so that he could caress his side all the way up to his face. The green in Barty’s eyes seemed to shine brighter as he gently cupped Regulus’ face, bringing their foreheads together.

“C’mon Reg. This is pretty straightforward. If we have another soulmate, that soulmate is close by and important to you. So I say we go find them. Yeah? No need to overthink or overprepare. Isn’t the point of a soulmate that they’ll like us for who we are? If not, then fuck them, yeah?”

Barty’s pep talks were always difficult to argue against, no matter how much fault Regulus found in his logic. Tonight he didn’t have it in him. Instead, he gripped the back of Barty’s neck and brought him down into a searing, deep kiss – one that Barty had no problem returning in an instant. 

When they parted, both were smiling and panting. Barty looked endearingly at Regulus’ closed eyelids before they fluttered open to meet his gaze. 

“Yeah, okay,” Regulus whispered. “Alright. Just– just let me grab my jumper.”

Barty released his fingers in favour of Regulus throwing on a jumper, feeling, despite his insistence, that he needed some layer of protection against whatever might face him outside this hotel door. An eternal love, a stinging rejection, or – perhaps worse – no end in sight.

Regulus’ fingers traced the taut string in fascination while his free hand grasped Barty’s once more before they spilled into the hallway, a many-limbed mythical creature of jittering nerves. 

“You lead the way, babe,” Barty teased, squeezing Regulus’ hand reassuringly.

With bated breath, Regulus began following the string. It was still just as tight, but it hadn’t shook or shown any signs of being pulled for a few minutes. He was beginning to worry he had imagined it.

Until he rounded a corner and there – there the string ended. The string led straight to the door labelled with 117, disappearing in behind it. 

Regulus stopped in his steps, making Barty almost run into him.

“What?” Barty whispered, sensing the change in tension.

“It’s that one there.” Regulus’ eyes hadn’t left where the string disappeared in between the cracks. “Room 117.”

Barty’s breath hitched and Regulus swore he could hear him whisper sick, but chose to ignore it.

With tentative steps, Regulus moved closer towards the door until he stood in front of it. There was a faint sound of rustling and some form of indecipherable melody seeping out through the door, and though it might have been placebo, he felt oddly at peace in front of it. Choosing to follow Barty’s sentiments – don’t overthink – he lifted his knuckles to rap on the door once, twice, thrice. 

Any sound behind the door ceased. 

Regulus remained staring at the silver numbers on the dark brown wood, holding his breath. The complete lack of sound from Barty told him that he was doing the same, but he couldn’t bring himself to check, too wrapped up in the consequences of this singular moment.

No sounds from the door – but the string pulled once, twice, thrice.

Regulus looked down at the fickle thing, heart pounding in his chest. For the first time in his life, he wrapped his hand around the buzzing string and pulled too. An agent of his own fate, he pulled three times himself. Unsure if that was what he was meant to do, wholly unaware of what else there was to do.

To his utter amazement and deepest fear, the string went slightly slack, almost as if the other person had let it go. Instead, the doorknob twisted.

With rusted screeching hinges, creaking wood and the screaming of Regulus’ heart, the door swung open to reveal – you.

You stood before them, in an outfit they would come to know as quintessential you, staring at them with slightly parted lips and wide eyes. When his gaze trailed down your every feature, they finally landed on what he never thought he would see; his final string reaching out from his hand and circling neatly around your wrist. Regulus’ eyes remained trained on that sight, digesting it.

“She’s beautiful,” Barty breathed out. Not one for silences, not even now. Your eyes moved from looking at Regulus’ own wrist to Barty’s and then up to his face, still equally rattled. Barty cleared his throat a little and Regulus looked up to see a spark in his green eyes that he had seen many a time but never aimed at someone else. “You’re beautiful,” he clarified, daring to smile a little at you. 

To Regulus’ joy, you let out a laugh. It was an airy, almost teary laugh, one that summarised every intensity of this very moment. 

“Well, thank you… erm, and, hi.” Your voice was melodic, creeping up over Regulus’ skin and into his ears. 

“Hi, amour,” he whispered back, squeezing Barty’s hand reassuringly at the usage of his pet name. He tried to open his mouth to say more, but the words got stuck. 

“I… I can’t believe…” You seemed utterly bewildered as a smile grew on your face, taking them both in rapidly. 

Regulus had never considered what it would mean for their third partner that he and Barty found each other so long ago, that she had been without them both for so long, waiting, hoping. It made him a little choked up. 

“This is the strangest fucking thing I’ve ever experienced.” Barty’s declaration and accompanying laugh zapped Regulus of some of his remaining nerves. 

“Strange as in horrifying or… exciting?” Your voice was a bit small, but your expression was so encaptivating that Regulus saw Barty melting.

“Most excited I have felt in years. Certainly more than I will feel at the circus.”

A surprised bark of laughter escaped you. “At the what?”

Barty grinned – Regulus couldn’t help but do the same. “We have a lot to catch up on, love, but it… it would be an honour to do so. Mind if we come in?”

Your eyes shone with a glossy sense of endearment and mischief that Regulus knew would mould perfectly into their relationship. You took a step back and gestured inside. “Please do. Just don’t kill me.”

“Oh, he would never,” Barty said, already beginning to enter, suddenly more than eager to meet his last soulmate. He shot you a wink. “I might though.”

Regulus met your eyes as Barty’s hand dragged him in, milking the moment of eye contact for all its worth. “He won’t,” he whispered in passing.

“Oh, I figured,” you stage-whispered after him with a beaming smile.

You shut the door behind them, and a new chapter began.

[whitechocolate355]

full court press

part - 1

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 3.3k

warnings - language

synopsis: this is a throwback to their aau days, where paige and azzi's friendship begins with an intense interaction... however, both girls seem to have different expectations on how their relationship will grow... so what will it be? friends? lovers? or rivals?

(repost since my other acc has been shadowbanned 😖)

hey guys ... this is my first post on tumblr and i'm so excited to share this pazzi aau storyline!! i don't know exactly what direction this fanfic might go so i'd love all feedback and suggestions on what to write next! honestly not my best work but i'm planning for some competitiveness/rivalry romance in the following chapters - what do y'all think? hope u guys have fun reading xx (and hope u guys enjoy the #ihatemybf moments as much as i do 🤭)

p.s. i'm nearing the end of my holidays so i might not be posting as much but i'll try my very best💋

chapter 1: ten minutes to turbulence

The breeze met Azzi with a soft embrace as she stepped off her plane, sweeping her brunette hair right into Buecker's face, who seemed to be standing a little too close to her for her to be a stranger…

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

Paige -

“Her hair smells so good” Paige thought, taking in Azzi's scent just inches behind her. Her curls captured the scent of lavender with a hint of vanilla that made Paige weak every time she neared her.

"WHATTT?" Azzi shouted over the noise, unable to hear the blonde's mumbling over the plane's engine

Fuck. she did not just say that out loud.

Thanking the lord that Azzi hadn't heard her, she composed herself, leaning in so her mouth brushed the tip of Azzi's ear. "I said,” she smirked. “I didn't ask for a mouthful of your hair, princess"

Azzi jolted, feeling weirdly electrified by her touch, which was strange since she had only met the girl 5 hours ago.

"Are you really blaming me when you're the one who chose to stand so close to me? Obsessed much?" she lashed back, rolling her eyes.

Caught off guard, Paige didn't realise Azzi had such an attitude, pinning her as the shy, pushover, girl-next-door (not that it wasn't Paige's type) and it certainly didn't help that the flight had left Paige in a trance, making her question whether God had put the brunette next to her as her soulmate, or a test to her self-control.

During the plane ride, Azzi's adidas shorts had ridden up her legs, putting her tanned skin on display. And her arms— the same toned arms that lingered on Paige's shoulder for too long— kept verging near Paige's, sending a thrill down her spine each time their skin touched. She had to fight the urge to look next to her, because she knew she'd never be able to look away.

So when the flight attendant came around with snacks (Paige's favourite: Lays chips with ketchup packets), she groaned and pulled her hood back towards the window, knowing she would have no control over how her body reacted if she looked remotely in Azzi's direction.

Yet, why was she so... turned on by Azzi's comeback? Intrigue began to flicker as she smirked at the sight of the cute, brown-eyed girl. Maybe basketball won't be the only activity amusing her for the next few weeks...

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

Azzi -

Shuffling through the aisle of the plane, Azzi groaned as the single file line seemed to move at a rate of an inch per hour. She had already been exhausted from the load of homework assigned to her over the summer, despite being the youngest in her class by a year.

As she made her way into her row, she was too tired to look over to where she was sitting, not realising she had fully sat on a girl's lap instead of her seat until she heard an awkward "um... excuse me"

Azzi's eyes widened, immediately springing off the girl's lap. "Oh god I'm so sorry" She apologised, redness only intensifying as a passenger pushed past her, causing her arm to reach over the blonde's shoulder to stabilise herself. Shit.

An instinctive hand grasps onto Azzi's side, steadying her at her waist.

Azzi looks down in surprise, almost yelping at the touch of the blonde's hand.

Of course this is happening to me. Azzi thought, cursing the world for her already bad start to her trip.

"You alright there?" The blonde asks, reluctant to remove her hand from Azzi's waist.

Azzi nods in silence, unable to muster words with the girl's hand still resting on her waist, slowly inching towards her hips as if it belonged there.

Breaking the silence, the girl replies, "Listen, I'll just move over. It seems like this window seat isn't doing you any favours right now" Whilst shuffling over one.

Azzi inhaled sharply at the absence of the blonde's hand, secretly wishing it had lingered a little longer.

"Thanks" she sighed. But she knew this wouldn't be the only string of bad luck, considering the past week...

.

.

.

Paige -

Paige had just been mindlessly staring at her phone when the chaos started.

After recovering from the initial shock of a girl (who was exactly her type) falling helplessly like an angel into Paige's lap, some dude in the aisle— with his oversized bag swinging like a wrecking ball —shoved past her. The force knocked her sideways, and before Paige could even register what was happening, the girl's arm shot out, grasping onto Paige for balance.

The brunette's hand landed on Paige’s shoulder. Fingers splayed. The touch was a quick, instinctual.

But Holy hell, did it do something to Paige, as if the involuntary lap dance wasn't enough of a turn on.

It wasn’t a dramatic moment — not really. but Paige’s heart did a very dramatic thing anyway, stuttering like it had missed a beat. Her pulse hiccupped in her throat, and for a second, she froze. Azzi’s fingers were warm, firm — they wrapped for a split second around her shoulder before she immediately pulled away, looking flustered.

“Shit, i’m sorry!” Azzi’s voice was quiet but hurried.

Get yourself together, Bueckers.

The contact was brief, less than a second, but it left behind a static hum.

Getting flustered over a hand on her shoulder? now that was a first— which happened to be quite rare these days, considering Paige's extensive dating pool.

The girl pulled back quickly, her eyes wide with the sudden embarrassment. But all Paige could focus on was the electric buzz where the girl's hand had been.

“Sorry,” she said, half-wincing. “Didn’t mean—”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Paige said too fast. her voice jumped an octave. “Totally cool. Normal. People grab shoulders on planes all the time.”

She tried to sound unaffected, but her voice cracked at the end, betraying her. She could feel her pulse thudding in her neck, and her brain was still half a second behind.

She reached for her water in a desperate bid to look normal.

In the same motion, Paige leant over, trying to act casual and avoid meeting azzi’s gaze for too long.

Bad move.

The plastic cup wobbled before Paige even processed what was happening. Fingers fumbling, she hit the rim instead of the cup, and time slowed in that cruel, mocking way it does when you're about to embarrass yourself.

“Oh sh—” paige’s hands shot forward,

The cup tipped, arced through the air like a doomed free throw, and the entire contents of her water splashing across her lap.

Paige hissed under her breath. “Fucking hell”

Azzi blinked, surprised. “Are you okay?”

“I’m great,” Paige said, dripping. “Incredible reflexes. You saw that save, right?”

Azzi’s mouth twitched, trying to suppress a quiet giggle. “If you were going for a waterfall, you nailed it.”

Paige laughed— mostly to cover up the fact that her cheeks were burning. “I swear, i’m not usually this much of a disaster.”

Azzi gave her a half-smile, her voice softened. “Blame it on the plane turbulence?”

"More like Paige turbulence" she sighed, muttering under her breath.

Azzi offered her a napkin from her stash, her eyes softer than they’d been before. “You can have mine. I don’t spill things.”

And damn it, Paige smiled. Not the cocky, easy kind either— the real one, the kind that tugged at her lips like it hadn’t been used in a while.

“Guess I’ll just have to keep you around then.”

Azzi didn’t answer right away.

But her eyes remained on Paige. lingering.

.

.

.

Azzi -

As she finally settled into her new seat, her phone buzzed. Then again. Then—BUZZZZ!

"You sure you don't want to get that?" the blonde asked, and the hotness rushed over Azzi's cheek all over again.

"Sorry" she muttered for the millionth time, reaching for her phone to check what could've possibly made her phone this mad.

* Matt sent 4 texts*

Matt: "hey baby, i know you're mad about prom but i swear the girl threw herself onto me"

Azzi: "oh so is that why her selfies ended up on your snap story that night?"

Matt: "i don't even know how she took my phone in the first place i swear"

Azzi rolled her eyes. She was clearly not in the mood to do this right now.

Matt: "baby? i know your flight doesn't leave until 11"

Matt: "please, i have something to tell you"

Matt: "i've been thinking, and i think—

i might be in love with you"

Matt: "just think things over, will you?"

Matt: "hope this will cheer you up ;)"

*Matt🔥 sent you a snap*

Surprisingly, finding out her boyfriend had cheated on her with 2 girls at her first prom was not the worst thing on her mind. Actually, part of her was kind of relieved. Relieved to the point that she hadn't even bothered to tell him she knew about the other girl he got with later that night.

What was the worst thing though, was the thought that matt had sent her yet another shirtless pic, flexing his non-existent abs.

God, is this man trying to make my day worse?

Unless there was someone on God's green earth that had a thing for toneless stomachs and flabs for arms, (which was certainly not her), she assumed matt's snap was an attempt to violate her peace. And it certainly worked.

When Matt first started showing attention to Azzi during trig class, the overbearing snickering from his friends and the constant "Yo, Mrs Henderson" to get her attention was tolerable, maybe even sweet. But after a few days, the novelty began to wear off.

"You haveeeeee to date him, he's so cute" Nailyssa giggled with excitement. "And plus, think of all the senior parties we could go to" her best friend pleaded, beady eyes looking to her with desperation.

Azzi sighed. "When do you ever stop thinking about parties?", knowing she was the one having to save Nailyssa's drunk ass from random parties at 3am.

"When you stop thinking of basketball" she shot back teasingly, sticking out her tongue before going back to her innocent, doe-eyed plea of desperation.

So, when the third week of his pathetic courting came around, Azzi felt cornered into going out with him, especially with hundreds of phones shoved into her face when Matt held a torn out notebook page to his chest that read, "Will u be my gf?" with handwriting that almost convinced her she had become dyslexic.

She later found out that the note had been written last period.

10 minutes before he asked her out.

Catching herself mid zone-out, she felt a set of eyes peering from the side of her vision. "Sorry, did i do something?" Azzi asked, wondering what the hell she had done this time.

"No, uh— that guy sounds like a dick. You deserve better" Azzi looked at the girl in confusion, quickly glancing away when met with her intoxicating blue eyes.

Before she could think, she sputtered "Well, he's not all bad..." in defence, gazing down. Why would she say that?

Part of her felt bad for Matt, because while his actions were inexcusable, she clearly never gave him much attention, let alone affection. Guilt began to fill her mind.

"Oh yeah?" the blonde challenged, a hint of fire in here eyes. "From what I've seen he looks like a Class-A prick" Paige laughed. "I bet you can't say one thing you like about him"

"Who even told you that you could look at my phone?" Azzi scoffed, pretending to look offended when she really was trying to avoid the lingering question.

"Uh, i think my actions can be justified given you've given me an involuntary lap dance, then touched my shoulder, then made me knock my water bottle over all in the span of 10 minutes. You should be glad i'm not asking the flight attendant to switch you to a middle seat right now" she laughed.

Azzi felt the heat rising to her face again— a feeling that was beginning to feel all too familiar. "Hey— don't blame me for the last part, my hand went nowhere near your water bottle" Azzi protested, struggling to argue her point.

"Still avoiding the question, i see" she smirked, her eyes darkening.

"Who even are you?" Azzi asked flustered, deflecting her response for as long as humanly possible.

"Paige." she answered mindlessly. Her gaze refocused, leering at Azzi. "Now hurry up and stop avoiding the question" she beckoned, waiting for her answer with a smug look on her face.

After a few too many moments of silence, Azzi finally begins, "I guess— his zest for life?" Azzi responded, surprising even herself that she was able to come up with at least an answer.

Paige stared at the girl for a few moments, analysing her response with an inexplicable expression on her face.

Is she checking me out right now? what the—

Paige burst into laughter, covering her face with her hand.

As Azzi looked quizzically at Paige, she couldn't help but note the absence of Paige's soaked jacket, leaving only a plain white tee, fitted around her toned body. The outline of her black Nike bra was so apparent, she was sure she could trace it from memory.

Azzi gulped. Just from Paige's palm in her face, her arm tensed, creating a subtle outline of her biceps. Her rock hard biceps.

God, what training does this girl do?

This is definitely what matt thinks he looks like when he stares in the mirror...

Wait, what was she doing?

No. Clearly she just had a thing for biceps. Everyone has them, Right? She thought as she attempted to reassured herself.

And plus, being attracted to someone as cocky as her? That's laughable. She chuckles.

Torn out of her reverie, a smug grin meets her eyes. "Staring at something?" Paige asked with a little too much amusement.

Caught.

"Paige, in order for me to stare at something, there'd have to actually be something there" Azzi retorted.

For a moment— silence.

Shit. She thought.

Had she pushed the wrong buttons?

Welp, this was going to be an awkward plane flight, but at least her ego—

"Ouch—" paige slowly began. "Y'know, that would hurt a lot more if i thought you actually meant it" The blonde snickered, clearly entertained through Azzi's cute defensiveness rather than the selection of movies in front of her.

Yup, laughable. Azzi sighed, thinking to herself.

"Don't worry, you can feel them if you want, I don't mind" Paige offered, her grin turning devilish.

"You're too much" Azzi scoffed, relaxing into her neck pillow to avoid Paige's brutally honest conversation.

When Azzi finally stirred awake from her much needed nap, she felt a familiar gaze coming from a certain blonde next to her.

Paige had been staring intently at her face, as if examining her.

"Why are you staring again? do i have something on my face?" Azzi asked, quickly opening her phone camera as self-consciousness overcame her.

"Just wanted to" she shrugs, maintains eye contact, clearly not caring about being caught. Her mouth opened with a slight part, breathing deeply as she diverted her gaze to Azzi's lips, before quickly revisiting her eyes.

What. The. Fuck. Was. That.

Before Azzi could react, Paige sighs, "Listen, um. on a serious note, no man should treat you like that. I mean, you're gorge—"

The plane began to rattle as it prepared for takeoff, bumping the passengers on and off their seats.

Azzi turned back and began to ask Paige to finish her sentence before a sudden hand enveloped hers.

As Azzi looked toward Paige with surprise, she was met with a complete different person. Paige looked straight ahead, terrified. The blonde was shaking, her heart beating so loud that Azzi could feel it through Paige's grip.

At the sight of this, Azzi's hand immediately softened around Paige's, brushing lightly against Paige's hand with her thumb in reassurance. "Listen, just take deep breathes. turbulence will be over in less than a minute" she reassured her.

Paige nodded, blinking her eyes shut. Her hands squeezed Azzi's in comfort and gratitude, sending butterflies in her stomach.

What is this girl doing to her?

.

.

.

Paige -

Paige should’ve pulled her hand back. She really should’ve. But there was something calming about the way Azzi’s thumb twitched slightly in her sleep, her grip loosening and tightening with each breath.

She was supposed to be focusing on her form, her footwork, her free throws —hell, maybe NBA 2k stats— not the girl snoring lightly beside her, with one arm draped into Paige’s seat and the other still interlocked with hers like they were... something.

Paige shifted her face toward the window, but kept her eyes open. In reality, she was just watching Azzi from the reflection in the dark plane window, hoping to finally go unnoticed.

The sky outside was just navy and cloud now, but her thoughts were louder than any storm.

She pulled her hoodie tighter around her head, letting the hum of the plane lull her into stillness. But the space between them felt warmer now. Just, aware.

From the corner of her eye, she could tell Azzi wasn’t sleeping either.

“You’re not one of those people who actually sleeps on planes, are you?” Paige murmured.

Azzi didn’t move. “Why?”

“Just asking. You’re really committed to the whole mysterious silence thing.”

Azzi smirked faintly into the hoodie. “I like quiet.”

“Bet you don’t talk to matt either then” Paige said teasingly, voice drifting between tired and curious.

Did azzi really love a man like that? The thought made her heart ache.

Why should she care? She had only met the tanned girl 3 hours ago. except... why did she care?

A few beats passed. Paige looked over for her response, only to see the girl had nuzzled into her pillow, her breaths slowing.

Instead of getting her answer, she let herself turn to fully watch Azzi. Her strong jawline softened in sleep. The way her lashes fluttered. Her shirt had ridden up slightly, revealing a set of defined abs on the tan skin, hinting at a shimmering diamond: at the base of Azzi's core.

God damn. Paige huffed, biting her fist to suppress the inexplicable things that diamond stud was doing to her body.

Nope. No thoughts. Just focus. Focus on— basketball. The trials. Beating out 164 of the best girls in the country. Not... whatever this was.

Still, she didn’t pull her hand away.

.

.

.

Azzi -

As Paige drifted into a seemingly deep slumber, hands still firmly attached to Azzi's, Azzi was relieved when she remembered that she wouldn't encounter Paige after this flight, because Lord knows what this girl could do to her if she had the time.

Azzi sighed, might as well rest up too then.

She closed her eyes, but her mind didn’t. It couldn't. not with Paige's earlier words still floating around in her head, infiltrating her every thought.

That line — "you’re gorg-" was stuck in a loop in Azzi's brain, playing and replaying in Paige's husky voice.

What was she going to say? Was she about to call Azzi gorgeous?

Azzi groaned into her neck pillow, wracking her mind with frustration. The turbulence could not come at a worse time.

Did she mean to say that? Why did she have to stop there? Did she stop herself on purpose?

Paige had said it so casually. Like it meant nothing.

But, maybe it did.

Azzi turned away slightly, pretending to adjust her pillow. Trying to piece together this girl who flirted like it was her first language yet froze during takeoff like a terrified puppy. The contrast was… weirdly endearing.

Before she could spiral too deep, Paige nudged her thigh.

"Hey," she said, a soft whisper. "What are you going to Nevada for, anyway?"

Azzi paused. "Family trip" she smiled, pursing her lips. She had automatically given into her first instinct to lie. Why did she lie?

She sank further into her guilt as Paige was looking at her with that same open face she had when the turbulence hit— no teasing, no bravado. Her fingers tracing Azzi's hand.

Azzi sighed, at least she wouldn't have to see her again to explain.

Or so she thought...

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

When the plane touched down, Azzi shifted slightly, careful not to alert Paige, whose head had tilted forward now, chin tucked to chest. Paige's nerves had dissipated with a single, oddly familiar touch upon departure. And now, her arm had slipped away in the descent. The comforting weight no longer in her hands.

Azzi flexed her fingers, unsure why they felt colder.

She shook herself out of it. It was just a flight. A conversation. A coincidence.

Tomorrow, the real game began. And Paige? Well, she wasn't even on the starting five.

It was time to set her priorities straight.

Still, as she watched her stand and stretch, laugh with the flight attendant, glancing back reassuringly— Azzi couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if this moment wasn't the last time they met...

But as she began to stir out of her seat, Paige's backpack laid just inches away from Azzi. Inside, contained the same AAU practice jersey Azzi had in hers.

As if fate decided for her, this wouldn't be the last she'd see of Paige Bueckers.

Except... she should've known what's coming, because a bad luck trail really does follow Azzi Fudd. All. The. Damn. Time.

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

[casuallytalkingtothevoid]

I need me a Tim who, when confronted by Jason at the titans tower, is, though still having his attitude™️, so completely willing to give back robin.

I need me a Tim that is like “oh, it’s Jason, he’s the red hood… kinda sucks I don’t get to be robin anymore but everyone will be so happy.”

I need a Tim who loves being Robin, who loves being in the manor, even though he knows he isn’t really family.

Give me a Tim who remembers how Batman was before and how much he loves his children, and that’s all it takes to remind himself that he was never included in that category; that he was just a temporary fix, a tool to keep Batman away from the edge.

Give me a Tim that used to watch Bruce, both as a Wayne, and as Batman, so he when he became Robin, he had hoped, just for a minute, that this meant he could have a family, a parent who paid attention to him. But it was only for a minute, and he knew better anyway.

Give me a Tim who has known, has been so intrinsically aware, that he was a replacement.

A Tim that was ok with that because it meant he was useful.

So much so that when Jason first revealed himself, he was a little relieved. And then guilty because he shouldn’t feel like that, he loved being Robin… he was just kind of sick of being “Tim”

Tim- a soldier, a babysitter to a grown man, someone put in charge of making sure that grown man didn’t kill himself or others.

Tim- a tool to fight with and to use before sending back, back to an empty house and cold rooms.

Tim- who was so desperate to help the family that he had been previously living vicariously through, that even while being beat up, was happy that Jason was back.

Because that meant they could be happy again, sure, Jason was the red hood, he broke Batman’s number one rule, but it’s Jason, and Bruce missed him so much, had grieved him so hard, surely he would be forgiven?

Well probably, hopefully. Batman still hadn’t forgiven Tim for almost killing captain boomerang. But this was Jason, his actual son, this was the boy who’s named he whispered on especially bad days.

Tim was happy about this, he really was.