#run up and put his hands over the mouth of someone who was trying to give an interview

[mywritersmind]

DO NOT DISTURB - LN4

summary : In which an early morning surprise comes in the form of Max Verstappen staring at his little sister in his rivals jacket.

listen up : swearing! maxverstappenssister!reader

words : 982

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The constant banging on the door woke me up with a groan. I didn’t think before slipping out of bed, rubbing my eyes and slumping my way to the door to see dare bother me so early. I put the do not disturb on last night!

I twisted the handle, running a hand through my hair and peak my head out. Now, you know that feeling when your stomach drops on a rollarcoater? When you’re driving a little too fast and slam your foot on the break because you are not going to make that light? That feeling that you get when you get caught.

I immediately regret it.

I immediately regret it because my brother is staring at me, his mouth open and his eyes wide. I try to slam the door shut because in my groggy haze, I forgot that i’m not in my room.

The feeling of Lando’s jacket on me suddenly takes over as I scream and push my back against the door. Max fights back instantly, not letting it close as I struggle to hold him off.

“What the fuck!?” He bangs on the door, “Y/n!?”

My eyes go to the bed where a lazy figure sits up, clearly confused until Max pushes the door open, my heels dragging on the floor in a last ditch attempt to stop him.

“Shit.” Is all Lando says, practically falling out of bed and standing up. He’s in pajama pants only and normally I would grin stupidly at his naked chest but i’m pretty sure i’m about to be murdered.

“Yeah, Shit!” Max slams the door behind him as I back away quickly, “Someone better start talking!”

See, I didn’t mean to start hooking up with my brother's rival/friend! But Lando Norris had his eyes set on me and even though at the time I thought it was just for bragging rights or a one night stand, he kept coming back.

“Um…” Lando’s voice is still scratchy from sleep as he looks at me, panicked.

“We’re dating!” I say quickly as Lando’s eyes get wide and he takes a step back. Max steps forward, something new that i’ve never seen on his face. He seems to try to find words, opening and closing his mouth a hundred times with hand gestures to match.

He stops, slapping his hand against his mouth, “I told you to stay away you little-” He screams at Lando and I suddenly wonder if he’s woken up the whole floor.

“I tried but your sisters hot, mate…” This gets Lando slammed up against the wall with a bloody grin on his face.

“Lando!” I scream, not because I'm scared for him, but because he’s being a little shit about it.

He’s wanted to tell Max for months and at times, I did too! Most of our friends our suspicious or completely know but Max is my brother. And a very protective one at that.

Hence, my boyfriend slammed against a wall.

“I will fucking destroy you, Norris.”

“Go ahead, Max. But when you do I want you to imagine me coming home to a Verstappen who really likes and pittys me.” Fucking hell he’s a complete cunt and I have to pretend it’s not hot as hell.

“Will you two stop!?” Is all I say when I see Max genuinely raise a fist! He backs away from Lando and starts pacing. I look at my curly haired who has a cheeky grin on his face. “Shut it.” I mumble and come closer to my brother.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!” He looks at me and it’s the first time I realize he might be genuinely hurt.

“I knew you’d react like this.” I cross my arms, getting embarrassed that my big brother is disappointed in me.

“No, I reacted like this because I came to my friend's hotel room only to find my baby sister in his clothes!” Okay so maybe I should have told him earlier…

“It’s my fault, I didn’t want to tell.” Lando cuts in.

“No, don’t.” I groan, hating taking responsibility for my own actions, “Lando wanted to tell you. He did, actually! You both may have been piss drunk but still, he really wanted to.”

“Like me more now?” I can hear the smile in Lando’s voice as my brother blinks.

“No.”

“Anyway!” I eye Lando, “We’re dating. And I know I should have told you and you’re probably pissed-”

“Definitely pissed!” Max cuts in.

“But, I really like him.” I'm actually in love with him but I think that would make Max have a heart attack.

“You.” Max points to Lando who’s eyes widen, “You ever hurt her, Please remember that we have the same job, with the same danger, except i’ve been doing this a lot longer than you. I can play anything off as a track accident.”

Lando’s face drops as he looks to me, “Did he just threaten to kill me?” I smile and nod, “You Verstappens…”

“You threaten him before?”

I nod, “All the time.”

“Good.” Max lets out a dry laugh, walking towards the door. “I’m still pissed so don’t get any ideas about PDA around me, ever!” He pointedly says to Lando. “Ugh ew, I hate you both.”

“Love you too, Maxie.” I say with a smile and a sigh of relief.

“Hey, Max.” Lando walks up behind me and I'm already worried. My brother turns, his hand on the door, “While we’re here… we have another surprise.” Lando slips his hands over his jacket, holding my stomach. I slam my foot on his as he laughs and my brother looks at us with murder in his eyes.

I can’t help but laugh, leaning back into Lando as he holds me tighter. “Go back to your room, he’s a dick, I know!”

Then, Max does something I completely didn’t expect. He smiles.

[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

A Hero And A Villain Walk Into A Bar

this is pretty long, so I've put it under the cut!

“Come on,” Villain said as they dragged Hero into the bar, “it’ll be fun!”

After their latest successful team-up with each other, Villain had insisted on taking Hero to their favorite club to celebrate. The only issue was it was chock full of criminals.

“Not to worry,” Villain had said, “you can come as a civilian!”

So Hero had, but as they sat down at the counter with their masked counterpart, they couldn’t help but feel like all eyes were on them anyway.

“Villain!” the bartender greeted, “who’s your friend?”

“This is Civilian,” Villain said warmly.

“Your hostage?”

“No, my date.”

Hero blushed profusely. Villain hadn’t said anything about- well they certainly hadn’t made it clear that- oh boy…

Villain chuckled at the sight of their flustered hero.

“Well, what can I get started for you two?” the bartender smiled.

“Civilian?” Villain asked.

“Maybe just a ginger ale?”

Villain and the bartender laughed.

“Come on, it’s my treat, don’t worry about the price.” Villain put an arm around Hero’s shoulder.

Hero blushed a little, then looked at the bartender.

“Well, um, can you make a strawberry daiquiri?”

“Sure can! And you, Villain?”

“My usual, please.”

…

A little later, Villain went to freshen up, leaving Hero alone at the counter. The bartender finished their shift, and a new one showed up. They eyed Hero suspiciously.

“Hi?” Hero said awkwardly.

“Hey,” the new bartender said.

Their nametag said Henchman on it. Hero stiffened nervously. They had fought this particular bartender a few times before.

“Haven’t seen you here before? You someone’s new sidekick?”

“Uh, no, I came here with Villain.”

“Hm.”

Henchman started making a drink.

“Well, since it’s your first time, let me make you the house special. No charge.”

“Oh I couldn’t-”

“It’s a courtesy we give all our customers,” Henchman went on, “’course, only the first one is free. We have a business to run after all.”

“Of course,” Hero said, trying to keep their voice light and even.

Henchman slid the drink over to Hero. Hero took it and, not wanting to raise more suspicion, drank it. It burned their throat as it went down, but the aftertaste was sweet for some reason.

“Wow, uh, that packs a punch,” Hero wheezed.

“You have no idea.”

Villain came back.

“Sorry, Civilian, there was a line,” they said, “not to mention some poor fool who had way too much to drink.”

“It’s okay,” Hero smiled.

They frowned, then put a hand to their head as it started spinning.

“Civilian?”

“It’s nothing,” Hero gagged, “just a dizzy spell…”

Villain didn’t look convinced.

“I think we should get you home,” they said.

“M-maybe,” Hero agreed.

Hero stood up and immediately lurched forward. Villain caught them, wide-eyed, with their brows knitted together in worry.

“Hey, you didn’t have that much to drink…” they pondered aloud.

“M-maybe I’m easily inebriated?”

Villain helped Hero out of the bar and to their vehicle. They deposited Hero in the passenger seat and buckled their seat belt for them.

“I don’ feel so good…”

Hero felt hot, and a thin sheen of sweat coated their forehead. At the same time, they started shivering. They were faintly aware of Villain racing down the road well past the speed limit. Red lights became suggestions and so did stop signs.

…

Hero didn’t know when they had passed out, but when they came to, Villain was dabbing a cloth across their forehead. They had been hooked up to an IV and they were currently laying in a bed in Villain’s med bay.

“You scared me to death,” Villain said softly, “this is all my fault.”

“Wha… wha d’you…?”

“You were poisoned,” Villain explained, “and when I find the sick monster responsible I swear I’m going to- mm. What’s the last thing you remember?”

“I, I don’t know,” Hero rasped.

Their mouth felt dry.

“I had some weird drink from the bar, and then… there was your car, and… did you run a red light?”

Villain chuckled ruefully.

“Doesn’t matter,” they said, “you can turn me over to the cops for it later.”

Villain brought a glass of water to Hero’s lips. They drank it gratefully.

“You rest,” Villain said, “I have some business to attend to.”

“Business?”

“Mhm, I’ll tell you all about when I get back.”

“But-”

“Shh,” Villain adjusted the blankets for them, “go to sleep, yeah? Your body needs to heal.”

Hero blinked slowly, as though Villain’s words alone were lulling them under.

…

Villain stormed into the bar, marching up to the counter.

“Where is Henchman?” they demanded.

Bartender gave them a puzzled look.

“They’re in the back, their shift just started… what’s wrong, Villain?”

“I know we’re all scumbags here,” Villain said, “but I thought even we had a code.”

Henchman came out from behind the counter.

“Something wrong, Villain?”

Villain decked them on the spot.

“What’s wrong is you poisoned my date,” Villain spat, “they almost didn’t make it because of you!”

“Well,” Henchman spat out a glob of blood, “maybe you should think twice before bringing a hero in here.”

Villain scoffed with an angry smile, then grabbed Henchman by the collar.

“They’re my hero,” Villain seethed, “let me show you, show everyone, what happens when you touch what’s mine.”

…

Hero blinked slowly awake, and Villain smiled down at them.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” Villain asked.

“You- you’re hurt!” Hero exclaimed weakly.

“Hm?”

Villain put a hand to their face, and their fingers came away stained with blood.

“Oh, it isn’t mine,” Villain said, “don’t worry. I wanted to check on you before I got cleaned up.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Hero asked, brows furrowed.

Villain took Hero’s hand.

“Now that I know you’re all right, yes.”

Hero smiled, then yawned a little. Villain kissed them on the crown of their head, running their thumb across Hero’s knuckles.

…

The bar was in shambles. Villain hadn’t needed their power to completely pulverize the goon, but they had used it anyway. At least now, people would think twice before messing with their Hero.

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Tags: @mythixmagic @infinityshadows @fishtale88 @thelazywitchphotographer @the-beasts-have-arrived @princessofonwardsworld @surplus-of-sarcasm@memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog @electrons2006 @just-a-space-rabbit @telltaletoad @bacillusinfection @noseyowes @whump-till-ya-jump @writinglittlepains

[celestisdivinitusinsaniavero]

That one time you followed Butchers orders.

Billy Butcher x f!Reader TW: Oral (f!receiving), Unprotected (don't be Billy, wrap your willy), (soft) choking.

The safe house was a dingy, cramped room scattered with empty beer cans and overturned chairs. 

“I saved your life today,” you said while crossing your arms. 

Billy stood in the corner, his face contorted with anger as he yelled back: "And nearly getting yerself killed, eh? Clever move, that."

“Oh, as if you hadn’t done the same.”

“My clock is already ticking, luv,”

“You smug asshole!” 

Your voices echoed off the walls, each word sharper than the last as arguments turned to insults. Adrenaline pulsed through your veins, making your fists clench.

His jaw tightens, and he steps closer, towering over you, his gaze boring into yours. His eyes seem to pierce through your soul, exposing you. "You don’t get to control me, Butcher," you snap, your chest heaving. “And if I want to save you, that is my choice.”

He retorts, his voice low and dangerous: “Someone’s got to keep you alive, luv.” A hint of softness in his voice catches you off guard. 

You shove his chest—not hard, but enough to challenge him. He grabs your wrist, his grip firm but not painful, pulling you closer. For a moment, neither of you speaks. You're so close you can feel the heat radiating off him, his rough hands against your skin.

His eyes flicker to your lips, and you see the conflict in his face: anger and … heat. It's like a current passing between you two, electric and undeniable. Suddenly, his mouth is on yours, fierce and desperate.

The kiss is rough, teeth clashing, as though neither of you is willing to back down even in this. His hands slide to your waist, tugging you closer, and the fight melts into something raw and consuming. You can taste the intensity of his emotions on his lips; it’s a heady mix of anger, desperation, and something far more dangerous.

Your fingers twist in his unkempt beard, pulling him toward you as you stumble back against a table. He immediately lifts you on top of it. The rough stubble grazes your skin as he ravages your mouth with fervor. "You drive me bloody insane," he murmurs against your lips, his voice low and hoarse. It’s a confession that leaves you shuddering against him.

His hands trail over your body, rough and deliberate, as he watches your every reaction with an intensity that makes your breath hitch. You can feel the desire pulsing through him like a living thing; it’s intoxicating. He hesitates for a moment as he reaches your waistband with shaky hands before tugging it down at your nod of consent.

As he rips the pants from your trembling body, he exposes your bare, quivering legs. With hunger in his eyes, he buries his face between your legs and inhales deeply. "Bloody hell, woman," he mutters, his voice thick with desire.

He teases you mercilessly at first, running his tongue just along your inner thighs, sending shivers down your spine. With one skillful motion, he guides your underwear from your hips along your legs, and the moment the piece of fabric is free, he puts it in the pocket of his coat.

“Really?” you ask as he grins mischievously. 

“Oi, I’ll need something to wank to when you get yourself croaked.”

You roll your eyes and try to pull him upwards, but he firmly holds your hips in place. He's teaching you who's in control now, and it's not you. 

His tongue grazes your most sensitive spot, and you gasp, arching into him. Billy growls against you, the vibrations intensifying every sensation. Your fingers tangle in his hair as he works you expertly, alternating between teasing licks and firm pressure. 

The tension builds rapidly, your breath coming in sharp pants. Just as you're teetering on the edge, Billy pulls back, leaving you aching and frustrated. He smirks up at you, eyes dark with lust. "Not yet, luv," he says gruffly. 

You whimper in frustration, your body trembling with need. Billy stands, his hands sliding up your thighs as he positions himself between your legs. He leans in, his breath hot against your ear. "I wanna 'ear ya beg for it, luv," he growls.

Pride wars with desire inside you. You want him—God, do you want him—but you're not one to beg. You meet his gaze defiantly, your chest heaving. "Make me," you challenge.

A wicked grin spreads across his face. "Oh, I intend to."

His fingers ghost along your inner thighs, teasing but never quite touching where you need him most. You squirm, trying to increase the contact, but he holds you firmly in place. 

"Patience, luv," he murmurs, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your neck.

His lips trail down your neck, alternating between gentle kisses and sharp nips that make you gasp. Your hands roam over his broad shoulders, feeling the taut muscles beneath his coat. You tug at the fabric impatiently.

"Off," you demand, voice husky with desire.

Billy chuckles darkly. "Givin’ up so easy, luv?"

You glare at him. "That wasn't begging. That was an order."

"Is that so?" He raises an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Well, too bad I’ve never been good at following orders."

One hand grips your throat; the other pushes two fingers roughly inside your soaking-wet pussy. 

Your breath catches as his fingers curl inside you, stroking that perfect spot. The pressure on your throat intensifies slightly, just enough to make your head swim. Billy's eyes are locked on yours, watching every flicker of pleasure cross your face.

"Fuck," you gasp, your hips bucking against his hand. 

He grins wickedly. "That's the idea, luv. But not until you beg for it."

His thumb circles your clit as his fingers continue their relentless assault. You're trembling, so close to the edge but not quite there. Billy leans in, his beard scratching deliciously against your neck as he whispers in your ear.

"Come on. Let me hear those pretty words."

You bite your lip, still fighting against the urge. But you can't hold back as he curls his fingers just right.

"Please," you gasp out, your resolve finally crumbling under the onslaught of pleasure. "Please, Billy. I need you."

A triumphant grin spreads across his face. "There's a good girl," he purrs, his fingers still working you mercilessly. "Tell me what ya need."

"You," you moan, past caring about pride or dignity. "I need you inside me. Now."

Billy growls, a sound of pure, animalistic hunger. In one swift motion, he withdraws his fingers and opens his zipper. While positioning himself directly in front of your aching core with one hand, he brings the one covered in your juices to his face. You cry out as he enters you, the stretch delicious and overwhelming, as he licks your taste from his fingers. He slides inch by torturous inch inside of you, stretching you to your limits. Your nails dig into the table as he fills you, every cell in your body screaming for more.

He pauses for a moment, letting you adjust. "Fuck, luv," he groans.

Then, he starts to move, and coherent thought becomes impossible. 

His thrusts are deep and forceful, each one sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him even closer, desperate for more friction. Billy's hands grip your hips hard enough to bruise, using the leverage to drive into you even deeper.

"Bloody hell," he grunts, his face contorted with pleasure. "You feel so good, luv."

You can only moan in response, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through you. The table creaks beneath you with each powerful thrust, the sound mixing with your gasps and Billy's low groans.

His lips crash against yours again, the kiss hungry and desperate. You tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging sharply. He growls into your mouth, the vibrations adding to the onslaught of emotions.

"That's it," he pants against your lips. "Take it all.”

You're lost in a haze of sensation, every thrust driving you closer to the edge. Billy's lips trail down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. You know you'll be covered in marks tomorrow, but you can't bring yourself to care.

"Look at me," he growls, his voice rough with desire. You force your eyes open, meeting his intense gaze.

"What a good girl," he murmurs, never breaking eye contact. “Now come for me, Luv."

His hand snakes between your bodies, finding your clit and circling it roughly. The added stimulation is too much, and you shatter, crying out his name as waves of pleasure crash over you. Your walls clench around him, and Billy curses, his rhythm faltering as he chases his release. With a final, powerful thrust, he buries himself deep inside you, groaning your name as he comes.

You both stay frozen for a moment, panting heavily as the aftershocks ripple through your bodies. Billy's forehead rests against yours, his breath warm on your face. Slowly, the world comes back into focus - the dingy safehouse, the overturned chairs, the lingering tension in the air.

Billy pulls away first, his expression unreadable as he tucks himself back into his pants. You slide off the table on shaky legs, wincing slightly at the soreness. An awkward silence descends as you straighten your clothes, neither quite sure what to say.

"So," Billy finally breaks the silence, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "… you can actually follow orders, eh?”

You roll your eyes but can't suppress a small smile. "Don't get used to it, Butcher. This was a one-time thing."

His eyebrow quirks up. "That so?" He steps closer, his hand coming to rest on your hip. "Cause I reckon we've got some unfinished business, you and me."

Your breath catches as he leans in, his lips barely brushing your ear. "Next time," he murmurs, his voice low and husky, "I won't go so easy on ya."

[vanishingmoments]

ive reached the point in battlebots where riptide debuts lord fucking help me

[classyrbf]

prisoner!geto who gets sent to the infirmary after getting into a fist fight with another prisoner. His knuckles and lip are bruised and busted and he’s doing the walk of shame down the jail hall. But he doesn’t expect a pretty young woman to be running the infirmary, nearly drooling at the sight because it’s been almost 3 whole years since he last laid his eyes upon one. He’s eyeing you up and down look a piece of meat while you tend to his wounds, completely ignoring his advances because it’s unprofessional. Though, you do find him quite handsome with tattoos all over his arms, a muscular build and his long silky black hair, his smile adding the cherry on top.

“You new here? I’ve never seen you around before.” He watches you put some gloves on, grabbing a roll of small bandages. “Pretty brave of you to be working in all male prison, don’t you think?”

“You must end up in here quite a lot if you know everyone who works here,” you sigh, grabbing his hand and wiping down the dried blood from his knuckles. “I transferred from another prison. It’s nothing I’m not used to.”

He smirks, narrowing his eyes at you. “Oh, yeah? Must be used to all the flirting then.”

“Wow! How could you tell?” You say sarcastically and toss the dirty wipe into the trash beside you. You wrap his hand up with the bandage and toss your gloves into the trash. “You’re all set.”

“Did I mention my head is killing me?” He winced.

“If you’re trying to get pain killers prescribed to you, it’s a whole different process. So I suggest you stop lying and wasting both of our time.” You place your hands on your hips, staring at him.

“Fine.” He stands to his feet, tall stature shadowing over you. You step back a little the more he steps closer to you. “I’ll cut to the chase. I haven’t properly fucked someone in nearly three years, and I’m dying…dying to get a feel of your sweet, sweet pussy.” He backs you into a corner, neck craning down as he whispers in your ear. “Think you can help me with that, doctor?”

You blink at him, your throat feels dry and your heart is pounding against your ribcage. “That is very, very unprofessional.” No matter what words come out your mouth, your body is feeling the complete opposite. “I’ll call the guards right now—”

“C’mon, pretty please?” The corner of his lips tweak slightly. “I know you want to. I seen it on your pretty face since the moment I walked in.” He raises his bandaged hand and runs his thumb over your plump bottom lip.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you sternly say. Oh, but he does. He’s reading you like a book right now and that smug look on his face knows it all.

“Okay,” he chuckles, stepping away from you. “Just know I’ll see you around.” He turns to walk out the infirmary and let the guard know he’s all set, but he suddenly turns back around. His eyes look at the name tag pinned to your shirt. “Such a beautiful name.” He teases. “Bye, doctor.”

[arminsumi]

Ahhh, student!Satoru, who's leaning into the palm of his hand, mouth concealed behind his pale hand, eyes stuck on you. And they've been stuck on you ever since he saw you first walk up the steps into Jujutsu Tech. Bright blue. Heart quivering. Fixed gaze.

He takes any excuse to be near you, even though he knows that you're annoyed by him — he's so cocky and full of himself. But don't you see that he's also just a lovesick boy? Look at the way he follows after you down the halls, long striding legs effortlessly meeting your quick pace.

You're just trying to get a cold soda from the vending machine after a long two hours of practicing martial arts with Satoru, Suguru and Shoko. And since Shoko promptly left with Suguru for a cigarette break, that left an overjoyed Satoru alone with you.

"Which flavor do you usually get?" he asks, grasping at any conversation starter he can think of. He just wants to talk to you, even if it's about something so dumb... even if it's while stood next to a vending machine.

"Uh, strawberry... it's my favorite."

He takes a mental note of that.

He's always trying to get your attention, even if he has to become a fool in order to earn a glance from you. Walking away, looking dumb, even his best friend shakes his head at him and tells him that he's way too downbad for a girl that doesn't even like him back.

But Satoru doesn't listen to anyone when they say that you don't like him back. He knows the chemistry is there, as awkward as it may be sometimes. He knows there's something connecting him and you, like an invisible thread.

He still brings you gifts on V-day. He still pesters you in class. He still shares one earbud with you on train rides. He still gets that accelerated heart beat when you so much as graze your hand over his while walking side-by-side.

So eagerly looking at your lips, Satoru pulls out lip balm and makes eye contact with you while applying it. He's always got chapped lips, he knows because someone made exactly 1 comment about it and now he's never forgotten to put a lip balm in his pocket.

"Whatchya starin' at my lips for? You wanna have a taste of strawberry?" he winks, puckering his kissable lips at you.

"Ough..." you cringe at him, "Satoru, it's no wonder you're single."

Okay, he has zero flirting skills. But he earns a smile out of you right then, so even if he's cringe, he's surely doing something right. Are the cogs turning in your head? Do you think he's cute? Do you want to kiss him should he lean into a kiss oh he's leaning into a kiss now aaand he nearly falls flat on his face, because you didn't notice that he was leaning in for a kiss and now he just has to play it off and look like a dumbass once again.

His feelings grow exponentially as the years pass.

You're always catching him staring and he doesn't even feel ashamed.

Though it's been on his mind all the time, it's not until after three years of knowing you that Satoru kisses you.

It happens one day during heavy rainfall. He runs to you with a grin, no umbrella, totally soaked, and like a bright-eyed bunny he bounces at your side.

He's unzipping his uniform jacket, hanging it over the two of you. The proximity has his heart thumping. Before he knows it, he's leaning down to kiss you, right there as the two of you are concealed from the world in your own little bubble — in reality, everyone knows that you two are liplocking under Satoru's jacket. Duh. His shoes click on the ground as he repositions himself, bending his knees and arching down to meet your lips, 'till his spine gets angry at him for falling for a short girl.

[aangelinakii]

BATBOYS + SITTING ON THEIR BACK DURING PUSH-UPS.

note : personally i would love someone to push up w me on their back ,,, and also no damian just becquse i couldn't rhink of a scenario soz aloz

BRUCE WAYNE.

the kids had forced offered bruce a night off, after performing his nightly duties too many months in a row. now, sitting in bed with a book, you found it difficult to concentrate on the printed words as your partner lingered on the floor by his side of the bed, his quick breaths huffing through your shared bedroom. what on earth could he be doing? flipping the corner of your page down to save your place, you folded the book shut and put it down, rolling over the bed to peer over the side... only to find your wonderous bruce wayne... doing push ups?

"what are you doing?" you'd chuckled with a soft shake of your head.

muscles rippling beneath the flesh of his back, bruce brought his body down, and then pushed himself back up again, his triceps straining against skin. with a grunt he glanced back at you, never ceasing movement. "i need to get energy out before i go to bed. mind you, i'm not usually relaxing by this time."

another laugh brushed past your lips. "then that's not tiring you out." but bruce only sent you another glance, more sheepish this time; you couldn't blame him, not being accustomed to how one normally retires for the evening.

before he could reply again, you were slinging a leg over the side of the mattress and landing on the plush carpeting. bruce's exercise ceased in curiosity, his head turning to run his gaze over your legs. "oh, no, don't stop on my behalf," you grinned, carefully tucking one of your shins along his back and lowing the rest of your weight onto him.

but bruce wayne didn't falter a bit.

instead, he took it in his stride, tucking his arms and moving down, and then pushing up even faster than he'd been doing before. but he couldn't hide the crescent of his eyes and lines at the corners of his mouth as they turned up — he could do this all night.

DICK GRAYSON.

bullets of sweat shot to the floor with each punch, his flesh grunting against the boxing bag hanging from the ceiling. it never had the chance to swing too far, for he was already hitting it from the other side. although you weren't going as hard at it as your boyfriend, your own limbs were straining from exercise.

with a loud exhale, dick stepped away from the swinging sand bag, holding out a shaking hand to steady it. before it could stop, he was already moving to one of the ready-laid mats.

without a second too long of a break, he was down on his palms, moving up and down, his triceps tensing and bulging in his flesh. the way he kept glancing at you every few moments was making it very difficult to focus on your own workout.

ceasing your movements, you looked over at him with crossed arms. "anything i can help you with?" it was half a joke, expecting him to just grunt a chuckle and shake his head, getting caught red-handed checking you out. instead, he allowed a few seconds' silence, and then hummed.

"yes, actually." his voice was strained against his action, but he'd be damned if he stopped now just to speak. "come here, will you?"

it's not like you're busy or anything. but who were you to deny one dashingly handsome dick grayson your time and energy; especially when that's what you were dating him for.

unable to bite back a smile, you made your way over. "okay... what now?"

"sit on my back."

despite the tension in his throat as he spoke, dick didn't pause his push-ups — and you were supposed to sit on him like this? right...

however strange it may have been to try sit down on a moving man's back, the sheer fact dick could push-up your body weight made it worth it (no matter how many times you fell off before finally sticking it).

JASON TODD.

relaxing days — no work, no appointments, nothing to do — had to be the best days. especially here, as you and jason lay belly-down on the floor, using your glorious free time to complete a puzzle book you'd found at the grocery store the other day.

well... jason was belly-down on the floor; you were belly-down on his back, peering over his shoulder and pointing at the page, giving your contributions.

it got to the point where you were both on the last page, pen marks etched into the paper from where you'd scribbled answers and numbers and words, but you were stumped. with a huff, jason flicked the pen from his fingers, landing with a thump a metre away. "how are they gonna make puzzles you can't even solve? stupid..."

"hey, hey," you chuckled, bringing your fingers to scratch lovingly at his jaw. "i can get us a new one. want to go now?" as the words left your mouth, you moved one leg from where it lay entwined with his, preparing to get ready for an outing.

but jason was too quick, and too stubborn. before you could react, he'd pulled one arm from beneath him and lightly pressed down on your back, keeping you in place. "no, i'm joking," he mumbled. "please, let's just stay."

anything for him.

and so you fell limp against him once more, arms folding beneath your chin so you could rest your head, eyes fluttering closed. silence ran through the apartment, aside from the soft workings of jason's breathing beneath your ear; outside the city buzzed, but, by now, it was more background noise. perhaps a little nap wouldn't hurt—

something was moving beneath you, and your eyes shot open in alarm, arms shooting out from beneath you and clinging to the nearest thing – which happened to be around jason's waist. although you weren't moving, the coffee table beside you was bobbing up and down, and you couldn't possiblt fathom what was happning, until you realised...

"don't want to miss a workout," jason grunted from below, as if reading your mind. no lazy day was truly lazy when you had a jason peter todd to mind.

TIM DRAKE.

"i bet i could do that," tim spoke from the other end of the couch, where his socked feet were prodding your legs, probably in a surreptitious attempt to get them massaged. "no sweat."

you glanced between the tv and him, your lovely boyfriend tim, who would come up in the dictionary if you searched for the word overzealous. on the screen, playing the scene of a bizarre film you'd flipped to, the main love interest was working out when the main character stumbled into the room; there was some fleeting dialogue, and then, before you could find an explanation for it, she was sitting on his back as he continued his workout.

"what, you—" now when you looked over at tim, he had that wide grin on his face, and you knew you were in for something. "you want to try it now?"

without much of an answer, tim was rising to his feet, adjusting the waistband of the linen pyjama pants he wore, and fell to his hands and knees. "i mean, if you insist," he scoffed playfully. "try not to fall in love with me even more."

something about this didn't feel right... tim was certainly muscular, certainly strong — you'd seen him in action — but you didn't have much trust in him this time. regardless of your worries, you shimmied from your seat on the couch and carefully arranged yourself, legs crossed, on tim's back.

he only shook a bit at first, his legs now outstretched behind him, arms firm as logs. but he wasn't moving, just frozen in the plank position.

peering over his shoulder at him, you asked, "what's with the hold-up?"

pink in the cheeks, jaw clenched, tim's voice barely came out through his teeth. "yeah, just... wait—"

carefully – and very slowly – tim lowered himself, and in addition you, down, until his toned chest was millimetres away from the floor, and then, just as slowly, he pushed back against the ground.

once he was back in his starting position, he shifted beneath you, almost toppling you overboard. "okay, okay, i'm done!" he gasped. "my abs are gonna kill me!"

DUKE THOMAS.

being sick for the past week, you'd found it difficult to encourage yourself out of the house to go visit the gym — so, instead, you'd resorted to working out at home.

duke returned home the moment the sun began to dip below darkening clouds, his warmth radiating through the house as he closed the door behind him. he called something into the living room, but it went unheard beneath the instructions playing on the telly.

"oh, you working out?" he hummed as he entered, raking his eyes over your form and the synchronised movements on the tv screen.

mid-movement, you grunted a yeah, and duke edged around you to sit on the couch.

finally, when your break came, you collapsed to your mat and turned to him, grabbing your water bottle on the coffee table. "how was patrol?" you breathed.

the corners of duke's mouth turned up in a grin, clearly bemused by the sheen of sweat along your brow. "yeah, great." his eyes glanced over to the screen — two more minutes of your break, and it looked like you'd be attempting a five-minute plank. "mind if i work in with you?"

you glanced back, sipping at your water, and gave a half-chuckle. "i would've thought you'd be too tired for more exercise."

duke's bottom lip jutted out with a casual shrug. "i've missed you, we can do it together."

unfortunately, you couldn't ignore that little smile, that charm he held like a secret. and so you put your water bottle back on the table and duke joined you, beside your mat.

when the timer was up, you braced yourself for your plank, but duke, also on his knees, caught your attention — some stupid smile lingered on his lips, like he had a cheeky plan. "i don't know if a plank will be difficult enough for me."

"well done," you scoffed playfully. "just because it's easy for you, doesn't mean it's easy for me."

he held out a hand to diffuse any wrong ideas. "no, i just meant i think i know a way to break a sweat."

at this, you eyed him suspiciously, albeit curiously. before you could question him any further, he was on his palms and tip of his toes, gesturing you to sit on his back.

after a few "are you crazy?"s, you found yourself sitting on his back, trying not to touch him too much with your overly-warm limbs, lowering and raising with ease, your youtube workout by now forgotten.

[nerdygirlramblings]

baby trapping(?) the 141

inspired by this post from @beloveds-embrace

It was an open secret on base that the 141 were together together. You'd occasionally see one of them - usually Gaz, sometimes Price, often Soap, never Ghost - taking someone to their barracks after a night out. You'd watch them pick up men and women, soldiers and civvies, fit and plush, but never the same person twice.

Whoever was lucky enough to join one of the 141 for a night always looked well-fucked the next day. And every one of them was tight-lipped about what happened. They'd never even confirm if sex was had, despite how obvious it was.

You're out at the pub when the 141 come crashing through the door. You heard they'd gotten in this afternoon, back from a semi-succesful mission: no one injured, intel collected, bad guys still at large. You didn't expect them to be out tonight, had figured they'd be tired or stuck in debriefs for a while.

It's clear right away they're on the hunt. Soap sidles up to two women at the bar sipping something pink in a martini glass, arms draping quickly over their shoulders. Gaz laughs as he joins a few guys playing darts, smile a little too calculated.

You're surprised when Price and Ghost are sat on either side of you.

Price nods to the bartender, who puts down a pint of something dark in front of him and Ghost, gestures to you, and says, "Amaretto sour for her." You have no idea how he knows your favorite drink. You didn't think he even knew who you were. He glances at you from the corner of his eye and asks, "'avin a good time, doll?"

You really have no idea how to respond to that. You try, and fail, to make small talk without making a fool of yourself, but it's hard when Ghost keeps chuckling - at you, not with you. He's slipped his mask up only enough to sip his stout and you try not to stare at the small glimpses you get of his face.

A few drinks later, Price puts his large hand on your knee, and you feel the warmth penetrate your slacks. "Seen you on base, doll. Glad to find you here tonight." To say you're shocked is an understatement. "What say we head out, yeah?" He drops a few notes on the bar and gently steers you up and off your barstool. You feel Ghost stand up on your other side.

As Price herds you to the door, you notice Soap and Gaz have abandoned the people they were with and have fallen into step with your little group. They get you into their vehicle, snug in the backseat between Soap and Kyle while Price drives.

Soap leans his shoulder against yours and puts his mouth to your ear. "Lass, 'm sure glad we saw you. Been hopin' fur it fur weeks." You feel the blood rush to your cheeks. Gaz drapes his arm across the seatback, heat radiating across your neck, but he doesn't touch you. Instead, you see him run his fingers through Soap's mohawk, and you squeeze your thighs together a little. You never thought something like, well, whatever this looks like, would be something you would be part of.

You're back at their barracks faster than you thought possible. Getting past the door and through the common areas is a blur. Instead your brain stutters on the feel of Price's mouth on yours, his beard scraping against your cheek and neck as he kisses down your throat.

There are hands at your waist, unbuttoning your trousers and sliding them and your underwear down your legs. Another set of hands is tugging your shirt up over your head. Once you're naked you feel multiple sets of lips kiss and nip: teeth tug on your ear, a tongue laves against a nipple, stubble rubs along your inner thigh. Big hands, fingers rough with callouses and bluntly bitten nails, roam your body. And through it all the praises whispered "good girl" and "so sweet" and "made fer us" carry you into oblivion.

It never occurred to you the 141 were the Three Musketeers: anyone they brought back was one for all and all for one. You understand why those before you believed in "don't kiss and tell." You leave their barracks feeling shell-shocked. It carries you home and into work the next day, where you fully expect things to go back to normal.

And they do. Mostly. Until a vase shows up on your desk two days later with nothing but a bar of soap on the card. The blooms are your birth month flower. Two more days pass before you hear Price's voice in the hallway. You peek your head out as he turns your way, and his smile beams. "There you are, doll. Brought your favorite," he says, holding take away. And not only is it your favorite dish from your favorite cuisine, its from the little shop you like best in town.

You really know something's different when Friday rolls around. Gaz corners you as you leave medical, and before you realize what you've agreed to, you're following him into the 141's barracks.

This is unheard of. They never bring the same person back twice. You don't plan to question it, though, just ride it out as long as they're interested. Six weeks of wooing - you couldn't think of another word for the presents and flowers and meals and conversations and the sex, god the sex - fly past before Price breaks the news of their impending deployment.

They ask you to wait for them, to be part of them, when they get back. It's on the tip of your tongue to say yes. You want this, you want them, but you hesitate. They've always been the 141, and you're an outsider. You leave your response vague and hope they hear the desire in your tone.

A month into their deployment and you're struggling to sleep. You can't keep food down. You regret how open you left things. But it's more than that. An itch in the back of your brain drives you to ask a nurse friend on base to discretely check your hCG levels. The response is what you hoped feared.

You don't know how you'll face them if they ever return. You were worried about getting between them before, but this is ten times worse. You can't imagine how this will change how they are with each other. You're carrying someone's baby. It never occurs to you to do anything other than raise it yourself.

You make it on base another two months, and there's no word about the 141. But as you begin to show, rumors start dogging your steps. People knew you'd been involved with various members of the 141 before they'd deployed. Now they're whispering about whether you even know who the father is.

As a civilian employee, you're a contractor on base, so you simply ask your employer to find you a job in town. You want to leave entirely, but your heart won't let you take their baby far, at least not until you can determine whose it is and at least let them know.

You don't expect them to be part of the baby's life, but it isn't fair to disappear when you know word will make it around base and they have the means to find you anyway. You figure this will allow for a clean break before any fallout.

Months go by, and you hear from friends still on base that the 141 came back but haunted. They'd had a few close calls on this last mission: injuries that could have been prevented, stealth ops where they were the ones being ambushed. Things that shouldn't have happened. Things that made them think long and hard about what the future held for them.

Now that they're back, you expect someone to track you down, find your location in town, but no one comes. You vaguely notice the large home on the edge of town, the run-down one with a massive garden, slowly starts looking better.

Two weeks after your little girl is born, the knock you never thought would come finally does. You carry your bundle to the door and clutch her tighter when you see the 141 through the peep hole. You open the door and wordlessly let them in.

The expressions on their faces range from awe to fear. You're sure your face displays the same. Finally, it's Price who speaks. "We should-a been 'ere, doll. Can ya forgive us?"

You know you're gaping and can barely bring yourself to nod.

"We meant it," Ghost tells you. "We want you. And now we want you both." It's more words than you've heard him speak at once, and without prompting.

Soap looks at you with such unbridled longing, reaching out his hands not for you but for your - their - baby that you don't even think before passing her over. As he cradles her carefully, Price chimes back in. "We bought a place, big, on the edge 'o town. We're not retiring, but we want to do more than look one day ahead. And in all those days, there's you, you and this miracle."

Finally, Gaz pins you with a look. "Come be ours, dove. You've been what we were missin' before we even knew we were missin' anything."

This time your answer is anything but vague.

[disgustingtwitches]

MDNI

Working at a restaurant with 141 (pt. 4)

You thought it was a mistake when someone called in reserving a party of 14 for a birthday. The voice on the other line assures you it is not, and that they'll be arriving at 7pm. You inform everyone.

"Who wid want a birthday in this shithole?"

Johnny gaffaued, spraying down some dishes.

"Probably just a prank call."

Kyle replied, arms wrapped around your waist and head resting on your shoulders. But it wasn't a prank call. The first half of the party arrive and you and Gaz have to scramble to push tables together. It's overwhelming, everyone is talking all at once, demanding things left and right. Gaz swoops in to help deal with one half the table while you the other. The food comes out, leaving you to be able to sit in the back for a few minutes, talking to the guys about nothing. Walking back out, some older man was snapping his fingers at you, waving his arms as if they weren't the only fucking people in the joint.

"Steaks burnt to hell, remake it."

He slides the plate to you, making you catch it before it falls off the side of the table. You apologize profusely and send it back to the kitchen. Price raises an eyebrow,

"Looks fine to me."

He stares at the piece of charcoal on the plate.

"Fucks sake, lemme do it."

Simon grabs his shoulder and cooks another steak. You set it down infront of the old man, watching him take a bite. He throws his fork down,

"Still burnt. How hard is it to cook a fucking steak?"

You look at the plate, meats still pink in the middle. Apologize again and offer to remake it.

"No, don't bother. Jesus."

He stares daggers into you. You wring your hands nervously.

"Actually, everyone's food was shit. None of us should have to pay for this."

Your mouth goes dry. You look over your shoulder to meet eyes with Kyle at the bar. He immediately walks over.

"Everything alright?"

He puts on his nicest customer service voice and that charming smile that can melt anyone. Except this asshole apparently.

"No everything is not alright, this was the worst dining experience I've ever had! Everything came out wrong, and it all tastes like shit!"

Spit flies out from the mans mouth. Kyle stands between you and the customer, trying to diffuse the situation. And much to your horror, one by one, the table starts to leave. You try to say something but they ignore you.

"Go get Johnny."

You run back, trying to act casual in front of Simon and John while tugging Johnny by the sleeve. He looks down, concerned.

He's on the floor before you can finish telling him what happened,

"Ye'r gonnae have tae pay sir."

His tone is more firm than Gaz, arms crossed and looking down at the old man. You're almost in tears as you watch more of the table file out the door, you turn back to look at Gaz. He frowns, furious. There's a heated argument at the table, the old man is yelling now. Not at Kyle or Johnny, but the only person he wasn't afraid of; you. The commotion makes John and Simon step out. This idiot is gonna get himself killed. You can see the moment when the customer loses the fight in his eyes. Shuts right up as soon as Simon says,

"Problem?"

Like a fish out of water, all the old man does is open and close his mouth wordlessly.

"Grab the cheque."

You don't know who Simon said that to but you and Soap crash into each other turning around and walking to the POS system. Ghost gently grabs the bill from your shaky hands and shoves it into the customers chest,

"Cash only."

"I don't have cash."

"There's an ATM around the corner."

The old man nearly jumps out of his seat,

"Right. Be right back."

He rushes to the door, Kyle and John follow.

"Oh there's no need-"

"Making sure you don't get lost."

Kyle smiles, eyes dangerous. It's about five minutes when they're back, the old man placing some 20s down before complaining under his breath. Then he gets kicked out,

"I need my change!"

He looks over Johnny's shoulder, looking to you for help. You shrug, arms crossed. When the door closes you sigh, running fingers through your hair

"You alright, darling?"

Gaz asks, voice as sweet as ever, gentle hand on your face. You nod.

~

That evening was pleasant. More than that really. They pampered you, cooed and soothed you as you huffed and sniffled. Ran you a hot bath,

"Poor thing, dinnae deserve tha."

Johnny massaged shampoo into your hair.

"Won't let you stay around next time we deal with something like that again."

Kyle kneaded the tension out your shoulders. John sat you in his lap, brushing hair out of your face while saying sweet nothings. You really do enjoy milking this for all it's worth, sad eyes looking up and huffing like you didn't get over that bullshit as soon as that old man walked out the door.

"Pampered little princess, you know that?"

Simon's lips are pressed up to your neck, just under your ear. You just nod, his words rattling around your brain while you got fucked senseless. You're tired, but the boys promised to coax an orgasm out of you. From each one of them. Then another. Well, you're a trooper, so what's one more round? Showered with soft kisses and praise, a foolish smile is painted across your face in a pleasurable state of stupor; Gosh, aren't you just spoiled rotten?

**sorry if it's short! I am on holiday ( ╥ω╥ )**

[ivyues]

Studio Interruptions - Bang Chan

Changbin didn't expect to walk in on an passionate encounter.

Changbin pushed open the studio door, his head full of lyrics and chords. “Hyung, I think I figured out—”

“AHHHH!”

A deep, startled shout tore through the room like a thunderclap, and you and Chris practically jumped apart like someone had set off an alarm. Chris almost fell out of his chair, and you fumbled back into the desk, your face turning bright red as you tried to get your bearings.

You had been completely lost in the moment – Chris sitting in his chair with you leaning over him, his hands on your waist as the two of you shared what could only be described as a very involved make-out session. The sudden noise broke the spell so violently that it left both of you scrambling for some semblance of composure.

“CHANGBIN?!” Chris practically yelled, his voice cracking as he gripped the armrests to steady himself. “WHAT THE – WHY DID YOU SCREAM?!”

“I COULD ASK YOU THE SAME QUESTION!” Changbin shot back, his face a mix of disbelief and amusement as he stared at the two of you, wide-eyed. “I wasn’t expecting to walk into – that!” He gestured vaguely toward you and Chris, his voice low but incredulous.

You covered your face with your hands, utterly mortified. Chris groaned loudly, dragging a hand down his face as his ears turned bright red. “Could you have knocked?” he mumbled, clearly trying to gather whatever was left of his dignity.

“I don’t need to knock when I come into the studio!” Changbin argued, his voice still carrying an edge of disbelief. “I thought you were, I don’t know, actually working on music – not on each other.”

You couldn’t help but burst into laughter, covering your face to hide your embarrassment. Chris, on the other hand, groaned, clearly mortified. “You didn’t have to scream, man! You scared us more than we scared you!”

Changbin finally straightened up, still breathing heavily, though a sly smile tugged at his lips. “To be fair, it was pure instinct. You’re lucky it was me who walked in and not Han. If it were him, he’d have screamed, run into the doorframe, and then passed out.”

You groaned, finally letting your hands drop from your face. “Okay, okay, we get it.”

Changbin’s grin only grew wider as he started toward the door. “All I’m saying is, next time, put a sock on the door or something! Give a man some warning before you start sticking your tongues in each other’s throats.”

He shot you both a wink before slipping out of the room, leaving the door slightly ajar behind him.

The studio fell into silence. For a moment, you and Chris just sat there, trying to shake off the awkwardness. Chris exhaled heavily, his eyes still wide as he leaned back in his chair. 

You let out a small laugh, still feeling the heat in your cheeks. “They are never going to live this down, are they?”

Chris tilted his head back, groaning dramatically. “Nope. Knowing Changbin, he’s probably already telling the others right now.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his misery. “We’ll have to be more careful next time.”

Chris gave you a look, his lips quirking into a small smirk. “You’re assuming there’s going to be a next time in the studio?”

You raised an eyebrow, grinning back at him. “Oh, please. You were the one who couldn’t keep his hands off of me today.”

Chris sat up straight, his ears turning red all over again. “Me?!” he sputtered, pointing at himself in disbelief. “You were the one practically crawling into my lap!”

You raised an eyebrow, fighting back a laugh. “Oh, so now it’s my fault?”

Chris opened his mouth to argue but ended up shaking his head with a chuckle, slumping back into his chair. “Fine, maybe it’s both of our faults. But next time, we’re locking the door.”

As you sat down on the sofa, you touched your ears. “Man, he really did scream loud, though. I’m still recovering.” you said, laughing.

Chris sighed, trying to hide his smile as he spun back towards the computer, muttering something about needing to actually get work done – though you were both fully aware that this wasn’t the last time you’d risk being caught.

masterlist

[tojirights]

bro i’m going absolutely INSANE over alastor 😻😻

so, how about when lucifer comes by the hotel, he subtly flirts w alastors girl. alastor is on the verge of going apeshit and almost leaves charlie fatherless.

instead of murdering anyone, he decides to take his frustrations out on his darling, leaving bite marks and hickies on spots just visible enough for lucifer to notice next time he comes by..

a/n: im OBSESSED 😍😍

alastor immediately recognized lucifer as competition on multiple fronts. obviously, the king of hell was a threat in terms of power level, and alastor hated that. but alastor also quickly hated how charming the devil was.

upon meeting you, lucifer takes your hand and bows, placing a kiss on your hand as well. alastor's eye twitches, watching someone else put their dirty little hands and mouth on what is his. "my, what a pleasure. you're helping charlie? that's lovely! means i'll get to be seeing you around more, huh? she didn't mention such a pretty little thing was her hotel manager." lucifer speaks to you, a cool smirk on his face. he's clearly interested in you, and while alastor can't blame the man, he's seething with rage. clearing his throat, alastor takes a step towards you and reaches a hand out to lucifer in an attempt to shift his attention.

"alastor." he speaks, barely containing the anger in his voice. "it truly is an honor to be meeting you, sir." you raise a brow at the tense interaction going on in front of you but pay it no mind. lucifer gives alastor a tight lipped smile and shakes his hand. "ah, you as well. charlie has talked about you." you notice the way alastor glares at lucifer, yet keeps a smile on his face the entire time. lucifer turns back to you, putting a gloved hand on the small of your back. "now how's about a tour, hm?" he leans into your ear to whisper, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin.

behind you, alastor's horns grow and eyes redden, ready to risk it all in a fight with the devil and take out this whole god damned hotel if it meant lucifer never touched you again. "o-oh um, that's typically done by-" you start, but suddenly, charlie is running down the stairs with a panicked look on her face.

"heeyy dad! let's go this way, towards your room! it's late, you should rest." her smile is clearly fake, and you see her eyes dart from you to alastor and back to you. luckily, alastor reeled in his rage when the princess showed up and was back to his normal self on the surface. you can feel the energy coming from your partner, malicious intent painted all over his aura and you gulp. "al, c'mon... charlie's right."

alastor doesn't speak, but he follows you to your room for the night. the door is barely shut before alastor is lifting your legs and tossing you onto the bed. "care to explain why the fuck that little slimy king of hell was all over you?" he doesn't give you another moment to process before he's tugging your shirt over your head. "it's just harmless, al. you know i don't want anyone but you." you assure him, but alastor's teeth find your neck.

"i may trust you, darling, but i do not trust lucifer." his voice has a low growl to it that ignites your core. "but-" you gasp when alastor's mouth closes on the skin behind your ear, nipping it with sharp teeth. "no, because he and everyone in this place will know who you belong to." you shudder underneath of him, slight tinges of pain shooting down your spine at every nip and pull of your skin. alastor moves down your neck, leaving a trail of angry red and purple spots in his wake.

his tongue circles every bruise in an attempt to soothe your inflamed skin, but the marks just darken by the second. you hands dive into his hair, holding onto the silky strands. you feel alastor's body shudder as you circle the tufts of hair by his ears, making him press his hips to yours. "everyone in hell, my dear, is going to know that you're mine. not a single soul will ever try to touch you again." his breathing hitches, grinding his quickly hardening cock against your leg. you whimper when his teeth latch onto your collarbone, sucking hard and adding another welt to your skin.

"i want him to hear you." he hisses as he tugs your pants down over your ankles. its hasty, the way alastor frees his cock and pushes into your pussy, but you were more than ready for the intrusion. you cry out, suddenly being so, so full and alastor groans. "yes darling, just like that." your legs wrap around his waist, forcing every thrust just a little further until he's pounding at your cervix.

"d-don't stop sir." you gasp, eyes rolling into the back of your head while alastor's mouth latches onto the other side of your neck this time. "who do you being to?" he asks, hot breath fanning your skin. "y-you, alastor!" you whine, flexing your hips up to his in an attempt to build friction. "please, make me cum. only you feel so good." alastor peppers you in soft kisses now, ever grateful that you're willing to entertain the idea of letting lucifer know just who makes you feel like this.

alastor sneaks a hand between your bodies to rub skillful circles around your clit until your legs start shaking. "good, good girl. scream for me." he smirks when your tone shifts and he can tell by how tight you squeeze around his cock. "a-alastor fuck!" your body spasms, waves of pleasure rolling over you as you cum. alastor's orgasm follows shortly after, his teeth finding your skin once more as he spills deep inside of your pussy.

you have a brief moment of embarrassment when you think about just how loud you just were, your hand flying up to your mouth. alastor just laughs, placing a kiss on your forehead. "don't panic, my sweet. i think this little display will prove quite effective in keeping lucifers grubby little hands off of you." alastor pulls out slowly and carries you to a nice warm shower before tucking you in for the night.

---

"jesus christ, did you get into a fuckin' fight with a bear?" angel laughs when you walk into the kitchen the next morning. you were covered in hickeys all the way down your neck, and you were barely walking straight. lucifer refuses to make eye contact with you, especially after alastor walks into the room shortly after. "good morning everyone!" alastor chirps, smirking at lucifer who rolls his eyes and sips his coffee.

"well, there's the bear..." husk mutters, earning a cackle from angel.

[mywritersmind]

THE MOST GORGEOUS - LN4

summary : Lando is convinced he’s found the love of his life during media day, embarrasses himself, and can’t stop flirting!!

listen up : flirty lando! pretend it rained in zandvoort🫨

word count : 616

“Carlos!” I hear the voice before I see him, and he definitely doesn’t see me because as he slides into the room he looks directly at his friend, “Carlos! Did you see that reporter!? Fucking hell, She’s the most gorgeous woman i’ve ever seen! And I saw her completely rage at-”

He spots me then.

I’m sitting in a corner, watching him talk about me. I have to say, My ego is extraordinarily boosted. His hands slap down to the side of his body, his eyes going wide.

I can’t help but laugh, “Hi.” I say, glancing at Carlos who’s already cracking up.

Lando puts his hand on the bridge of his bandaged nose, clearing his throat, he hesitantly looks back up at me, “Hello.”

“You know, I prayed for something comical to happen today! Thank you so much, mate!” Carlos slaps his friend on the back before making his way out, shaking his head at me, “See you!”

“Um…” Lando swallows, “Would you believe me if I said I wasn’t talking about you?” I’m normally not so self centered but I really believe he is talking about me.

“I saw you get escorted into the ‘no press’ area…” He nods, his lips in a thin line, “I was also the only woman in the media pen.”

“Right! Of course.” He leans his arm against a chair, using the other one to motion at me, “Well… Nice job yelling at Vowles.”

I smile and stand, pulling my skirt down a bit, “He deserved it.” I shrug and grab my purse and paddock pads.

“No doubt.” He watches me walk past, “Wait!” I turn and tilt my head, “Would you want to- get coffee?” he looks nervous.

“No… sorry.”

At this, he looks shocked at my blatant refusal, “Uh… That’s alright. Hey! I never got your name.”

I nod, “True.” I walk out and I hear him call after me.

“I’m Lando! By the way!”

⋆｡‧˚⋆

“Great race today, Lando.” I say into the microphone as the man stands in front of me. He’s sweaty and holding onto his water for dear life.

I’ve never seen his eyes so blue. Not that I’ve seen much of him in person… I’m new to the interviewer game, made my way up slowly, “Easy to do well when I know you’re watching.”

He just won Max’s home race and apparently winner Lando is a very flirty being. I raise a brow, “How will you be celebrating tonight? Big party?”

He runs his hand over his mouth, “Nah… looking to hang out with someone special.” Is he… asking me out? Now!?

I clear my throat, trying to stay professional, “Sounds Lovely.”

“Hopefully it will be! If she says yes.” He’s looking directly into my eyes, my cheeks feeling hot.

“Mmm who would say no to Lando Norris?”

He licks his lips, “I know one person.” I shake myself out of it, remembering the camera facing him and the mic in my hand.

“So! I’m assuming you're pleased with tyre management today? Pretty wet track, Is that harder or more fun?”

His mouth pulls into a slow smirk and I know i’m doomed, “Prefer it wet after a few boring races.” He shrugs and I roll my eyes because I know what he’ll say next, “Quite slick today but nothing i’m not used to.”

His media manager taps his shoulder, letting us know time is up, “Have a good day celebrating, Norris.”

“Appreciate it, Y/n.” He winks and turns around. I sigh and turn the other way, praying my cheeks will cool down.

He knows my name.

[ghostedsilk]

sukuna x gn!reader; fluff; established relationship; no-curses!au

“Why are you so pretty?”  

Sukuna turns his head to your figure that is sprawled lazily on your couch, your own head hanging upside down on the headrest, blinking at him owlishly. His gaze, which had just been focused on the cutting board in front of him - where he was preparing the late-night snack you requested - is now focused on you, interrupted by your unexpected words.

“Are you mad?”

“Yes.” A dopey smile stretches across your face, high on whatever feelings are rushing through your body at that moment. “Madly in love with you.”

Sukuna glances at you, a deadpan look, though your eyes catch the flush that colors his cheeks, barely noticeable, soft and oh so pretty. Betraying his nonchalant exterior.

“Go to sleep.”

“Aww, c’mon, I can see you blushing!”

“Tch, don’t be weird,” he grumbles, face turned to the side, before abandoning his task and making his way to the couch, putting you in a headlock, ignoring your shoves and squeals.

Sukuna finally releases you after you try to bite his arm, your teeth almost leaving a mark (not that he'd actually mind). As you sit up, disheveled and catching your breath, his large hand wanders to the back of your head, a careful grip, and he stares down at you with half-lidded eyes.

To an outsider, your boyfriend would probably appear unaffected, perhaps even threatening. But as his partner, someone who knows him too well, you can quickly recognize the softened edges around his eyes, the glint in the maroon of his irises. It never fails to spread warmth throughout your entire body, and you have to stop yourself from burying your face in his broad chest.

“You’ve been trying to tease me a lot lately, you brat,” he drawls, scratching his nails along your nape.

You hum, tipping your head back into his pleasant touch and giving him a short, firm nod. "I am. It's because of your reactions, they're really cute."

Sukuna immediately grimaces at your words and stops scratching, his eyebrows drawn together as his lips fall into something awfully resembling a pout. Like an angry cat, you think to yourself.

“Don’t use that word with me.” 

You roll your eyes and bring a finger up to his face to smooth the wrinkled space between his furrowed brows.

“Oh, get over it. What do you want me to say? Hardcore?”

He pretends to bite your finger, sharp canines lightly scraping the skin while another unhinged giggle escapes your lips at the playful gesture.

“I’d prefer if you didn’t say anything at all.”

A snort leaves you as you wave a hand dismissively at him.

“Yeah, yeah, if that were the case then you wouldn’t be with me in the first place.”  

Suddenly, his other hand reaches up and squeezes your cheeks, causing your lips to form an 'o'. He shakes your head from side to side, gently, eyes never leaving your face.

"You run your mouth way too much."

"M'only matching your energy," you manage to mumble and he lets go of your face.

A click of his tongue, “You wanna die?”

“Uhh, I’m so scared,” you taunt him, the corners of your mouth lifting up, knowing that his threats are just empty words. His own way of showing love, one could say.

His hand, the same one that just squeezed your cheeks, then travels down to wrap around your waist and your lips part immediately at the sensation. But instead of giving it a light squeeze like he usually does, he pinches your side, making you yelp and slap his hand away.  

“Stop!”

"You asked for it," he shrugs, and you can see him trying to fight off a smile that threatens to spread across his face. You're tempted to tease and coo at him again, but you're afraid of what he might do to you, unsure if you'd survive.  

You let out a loud sigh, "All this just because I called you pretty. How sensitive of you."

His brows rise and this time he doesn't hold back a smile, threatening and promising nothing good.

“Oh, I’ll show you sensitive."

a/n: wrote this bc i'm lowkey procrastinating my toji fic whoopsie hehe

[wonderjanga]

Marvel Being Destructive

Marvel’s destructive. It’s not even on purpose too. It just happens. He can’t control it. For the most part, that is. Like, he’ll get startled and pull a Castiel from that one episode of Supernatural.

Marvel: *trying to steal some food for Billy*

Flash: “Cap, buddy!”

Marvel: *startles and the lightbulb above them just bursts*

*loud silence*

Flash: “Cap, whose leftovers are those?”

Marvel: *slowly turns around to look at Flash, sure enough, Marvel’s holding a container or Tupperware, with a sticky note that said GL* “Uh… mine?”

Flash: “I can see that they’re Hal’s.”

Marvel: *takes off the sticky note and crumples it in his hand. Then proceeds to fry it with lightning* “What’re you talking about?”

Flash: *a little speechless*

Marvel: “Right… So I’m gonna go. See you, Flash.” *little wave as he walks off*

Billy felt really bad about it, but the kid needed it more than Hal at the moment. Probably. Look, he was running low on money at the moment and hadn’t eaten in a couple days. The hunger pangs were getting to him. He did end up making a bunch of food for Hal in an attempt to apologize.

GL: “Woah, what’s all this?”

Marvel: *in full lightning bolt apron* “Uh… Remember how you were complaining last week about how someone stole your food?”

GL: “Yeah?”

Marvel: “Right, well that was me.”

GL: *dramatic gasp* “I vented to you about that! And you just took it like you were innocent?!”

Marvel: “I know, I know, and I’m sorry. Just eat all the food I made for you. Please?”

GL: *looks to the freaking feast Marvel made for him* “Yeah, okay. I forgive you.” *starts chowing down* “By the way, why’d you steal my foot anyways? I thought you didn’t need to eat.”

Marvel: “I just really needed it at the time.”

GL: “Why?”

Marvel: “Just eat the food, Hal.”

Then, there’s the fact that Billy sometimes forgets he isn’t as small as he usually is. Like, he’s gotten used to it. After all, he’s been Cap for almost four years now. He now unconsciously bends down when entering and exiting through doors due to the fact he’s cracked his head on more doorframes than he can count. This even bled over to Billy who’s only about 5’4 and definitely doesn’t need to do it. But, every now and then as Cap, he’ll slip up and forget he isn’t that little scrawny short kiddo.

JL: *all having a meeting* Marvel: *drops something under the table and leans down the pick it it up*

GA: *immediately grabs his mug of coffee and scoots back from the table*

Other JL members: *watch in confusion as GA scoots back but then watch in slow motion at Marvel tries to get back to his chair and stands up to early. The table slowly starts tilting up and all of their stuff slides to the floor. Marvel then gets out from under the table and the table falls back to the floor with a loud bang*

Marvel: *confused by the loud bang and looks back* “Where’d all your guys’ stuff go?”

GA: *scoots back to table and puts his mug back down* “No idea, bud.”

The reason Green Arrow knew to take his stuff and scoot back is that one time when he got lunch with Cap, he watched in real time as his burger and soda slid off the table when the big man went down to grab a fork he dropped.

Then, there’s the super duper ultra rare times he forgets his own strength. Like, once a year, he’ll break something or someone and then end up having to apologize a lot.

Batman: *shows Marvel an explosive batarang* “These are extremely delicate. If they’re chipped or thrown at someone, they’ll explo-”

Marvel: *reaches over to touch it and accidentally snaps a piece of it off*

*silence*

*beeping noise starts*

Marvel: *panics and breaks the rest of it and shoves it in his mouth, basically eating the explosion, Superman style*

Batman: *stares for a solid minute* “I could’ve turned it off, Captain.”

Marvel: *coughs up smoke looking embarrassed* “Sorry, Mister Batman Sir.”

Batman: *stares for another solid minute* “Can we talk about how your first instinct was to eat it?”

Marvel: “I’d rather not.”

Batman: “I really think we should.”

[shadow4-1]

I'm just imagining having spent the night with a lover who isn't in the 141, only to wake up the next morning and there's in intervention waiting for you in the rec room.

Like, at first you're just confused. But when Price opens his mouth to ask you about how you slept...you have a bit of a meltdown. Why does it matter? Why is everyone staring at you? What's going on?

Soap grabs the collar of your t-shirt and pulls it down so everyone can get a look at the dark hickies dotting your neck. You slap his hand away, tears in your eyes.

"So all of you can do whatever you want? Sneak bitches on base and fuck around at all the bars we pass through! But I'm not allowed to do anything with someone I actually like?!"

It hurts. It feels like you're being stripped bare in front of them.

Price sighs, his gaze softens. It's obvious he doesn't want to have this conversation but something you've done has given him no choice. Soap just stands a few feet away, chest puffed out, eyeing you with a strange annoyance. You know if you try to leave he'll stop you.

"You are...not in the same position as us." Price tries and winces. He's obviously not putting his thoughts into soft enough words, but he continues. "You are...it is our responsibility to keep you safe."

"Safe? You're trying to keep me safe?" Your voice is raised higher than you've ever raised it at Price. "Safe by what? Fighting off all the guys at the bars? Safe by spreading lies about me to all of the PMCs and the other Task Forces?"

Price just closed his eyes and set his jaw. He had to know about the subterfuge you'd been experiencing for well over a couple years now. Everyone in the room was guilty as charged.

"You're and asset. And you're also a liability." Ghost speaks up, eyes narrowed, stance way too relaxed against the metal folding chair he sits in. "Do you remember what happened to the 7th Division?"

Saliva pools in your mouth, a sudden queasiness filling your stomach. Yeah, of course you remembered. Their beloved medic had been kidnapped by a group of angry drug lords using a mercenary group as their muscle. The 7th Division had gone in guns blazing to get their member back and well...they'd been wiped out. And their star medic they'd sacrificed everything for? She'd been brainwashed and inducted into the very agency that stole her away.

KORTAC

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" You mutter. "Please tell me you're not."

"We can't have you fraternizing with anyone." Price states smoothly. "As our medic, you have a responsibility to us, your team. We can't have you getting caught up in something bigger."

"I understand what you're saying, but can't you see how ridiculous this is?" You try to reason. "I'm human, I have- god this is embarrassing. I h-have wants and...needs, just like you guys."

The silence is loud. You can't meet anyone's gaze. Price steps closer to you, swallowing hard. His next few words are spoken softly, conspiratorially.

"All of your needs will be taken care of. We will never let you suffer by yourself."

Price cocks his head to the men before you both. All of them straighten beneath his gaze. Price places a hand on the small of your back.

"Whatever it takes." He commands them. "I better not hear or see anything. Do I make myself clear?"

A trio of "yessirs" bounce off the white walls. Price just smiles and nods. He pats your back.

"There we go. You'll be fine." He sighs. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to talk to your guest."

Your eyes widen, your throat drops into your stomach.

"Wait!"

"We've got ye, Bonnie. You n' all yer needs."

Six hands are on you from several different angles. Their massive frames block out the fluorescent lights.

"Ah, where are you goin'?" Gaz chuckles, his arm wraps around your belly.

You try to run after Price but the rec room door is slammed shut and locked. You try to push the closest man away, but he just grins down at you.

[rafey-baby]

hidden

outlaw!rafe holding pogue!reader hostage in her own house after banging his fist on her door in the middle of a stormy night, demanding to be let in with a gun in hand and wild waves in the sea of his eyes…

c/w: rafe being mean & manipulative, mentions of murder & violence, he’s also weirdly soft in the end? 18+ mdni!

wc: 2k

he’s been stuck in my head for a while so hope u enjoy xx

part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5

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

There’s still sleep dust lingering in her lashes when she hesitantly cracks open the door at 3 am—revealing a tall, scary man with scarlet stains on his hands, white button up saturated in maroon and a scowl painted over his unsettling countenance.  

She stands there like a deer in headlights, unmoving while he looks down at her with arctic eyes as chilling as the frigid waters surrounding an iceberg. And at first, she thinks she’s still asleep, tired brain conjuring up some creepy murderer scenario where she’s the idiot who does everything the audience in the movie theater is screaming at her not to.

But as she properly blinks her sleepy eyes open, she comes to the realization that this is not a horror film and this intimidating stranger (with oddly appealing features) who’s definitely just killed someone is very much real.  

She’s about to open her mouth— unsure whether to scream for help or simply stare with her mouth hung open in shock, but she doesn’t get the chance to find out before he’s pasting his massive palm over her lips.  

“Don’t make a sound,” his low mutter makes a shiver run down her spine. And she doesn’t, instead she just blinks, too out of it to move a muscle— the reek of the dried blood on his hand hitting her nose and making her face scrunch up.

She doesn’t know why she’s not putting up any sort of a fight, blames it on the fact that half her brain is still swimming in the lake of her dreamland— soaking up the glittering sunbeams that never dull and dipping its toes in the grass that consists of misty nebula and twinkling stars. 

And he’s just so mean, manhandling her to his liking and ordering her around with a gun to her head; grumbling about needing a hiding place from the cops after dumping a body somewhere in the ocean and getting caught since apparently, his temper really just got the best of him at times.  

“Didn’t mean to kill the guy, alright? He jus’ kept bein’ a bitch ‘n pissin’ me off— I mean, I was, uh, I was provoked, what was I supposed to do?”

However, his explanation seems to do very little to soothe her overstrung heart that’s thudding in her ribcage; loud enough for him to hear and earning her an exasperated roll of his eyes.

“M’takin’ a shower now ‘n you’re not gonna move an inch, you understand? Cause if you do…m’gonna have to— m’gonna hurt you ‘n I don’t wanna do that, okay?” 

She merely nods her head, unable to string together a coherent sentence, and he takes note of the way her inhale gets caught in her throat when he takes a step closer. “You, uh, you live alone?”

She offers another nod of her head.  

“Dumb girl”, he tuts, shaking his head in disapproval. “When someone’s knockin’ on your door in the middle of the night you don’t— you don’t fuckin’ open, alright?”  

She’s making it entirely too easy for him.  

However, the second he’s in the bathroom, she forces her exhausted brain to think— hurriedly coming up with a rickety plan while she listens to the water streaming behind the door. She waits for only a a few seconds to make sure the coast is clear before she’s bolting towards her bedroom; trembling fingers grabbing her phone from her nightstand and trying to dial 911.  

Unfortunately, her shaky hands aren’t of any help when they clumsily drop the phone— the clattering sound of it hitting the floor echoing in the quietness of the room. And suddenly she can’t breathe.

Her brain short-circuits as she bends down in an attempt to reach for the wretched device that has somehow tumbled under her bed. However, when she finally catches it in an unsteady grip, she hears the shower turn off— an eerie stillness following. In her state of panic, she attempts to turn the phone back on and call for help, but it’s proving to be rather difficult since her lungs aren’t working and her heartbeat is ringing in her ears.  

“Boo,” a low whisper right behind her makes her flinch; a faint gasp leaving her while a shiver travels down her spine.

“Why’d you jus’ do that, huh? Told you I didn’t wanna— didn’t wanna fuckin’ hurt you ‘n then you go ‘n pull this shit,” a strong hand grips her by her throat when he turns her around to face him.  

“M’sorry, I— I don’t—” she’s paralyzed, respiration shallow while her blood runs cold.

“You don’t what, hm?” he stares into her horror-stricken eyes with an almost bored look, seeming to be entirely indifferent to her torment. 

“Can’t…can’t breathe,” her voice is nearly inaudible.

A grim chuckle bubbles from his chest in response. “Can’t breathe? Maybe you should’ve thought about that before, yeah?” he scoffs, cruel words mocking her.  

“You’re so fuckin’ stupid— want me to kill you? That what you want?” he grits out, squeezing her neck harder; making her feel dizzy.

“No! No, please. M’sorry…m’sorry, won’t— won’t do it again, promise, I’ll do anything—” she manages out, desperately gasping for air because he’s nearly crushing her windpipe in his unrelenting grip.  

“Anythin’ huh? That’s, uh, tha’s real temptin’ ‘n all but what I need you to do is not pull stupid shit like this, you get that?”  

“I won’t, I promise. You can, um, stay here for as long as you want and I’ll help, okay?” she thinks she’s going to pass out soon— little stars already peppering behind her fluttering lids and her weakened limbs beginning to feel heavy.

His coarse panting fills the room while he seems to contemplate her offer. “If you even think about runnin’ to the cops tonight, m’gonna fuckin’ find you, you understand?” 

She frantically nods and at last, his hold begins to loosen around her trachea, allowing for her greedy lungs to finally suck in air as she takes a step back in an attempt to even out her respiration.  

He doesn’t say anything for a moment— silently observing her while she clears her throat and swallows a few times, trying to pacify her racing heart and the thoughts running around her brain.

Then, she blinks up at him, noticing how he smells like her honey-scented body wash and orange blossom shampoo— nothing but a towel hanging low on his hips, leaving very little to her imagination as the room grows quiet.  

Once she feels the flat floorboards under her wobbly feet again, she tries a different approach; a nervous hesitation overlaying her creaky question. “What’s, um…what’s your name?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he dismisses her. However, when a small pout begins to mold her mouth the longer she stares at him, he lets out a discontented huff.  

“Rafe,” he finally responds, not bothering to ask for hers, seemingly not caring enough for it. She tells him, nonetheless, and he can’t help but laugh at her priorities— a literal criminal has broken into her home and she cares about fucking introductions.  

“So…have you— have you killed anyone else?”

She doesn’t know why she’s trying to make small talk with him but she figures that if she gets him to talk about something else, choking her to death won’t be at the forefront of his mind anymore.  

“You seriously wanna know?” he raises his brows. 

She thinks about it for a moment and then settles on a shake of her head, followed by a harsh chuckle rumbling from his chest.  

“So, uh— what do you do? Like besides…killing people and stuff?” she tries once more.  

“Listen, the less you know, the better, alright?” he states, causing her to let out a soft sigh in defeat when all of a sudden, thunder crackles behind her windows, an ablaze lightning illuminating her dimly lit bedroom soon after.  

She flinches at the sound and the nearly sinister way it momentarily lights up his face.  

“You scared of a little storm?” he feigns concern as he peers down at her. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe, yeah?” the mocking grin plastered on his face causes a shudder to travel through her as she swallows—wishing this was all just a really bad nightmare.  

- - - - - - - - - - - - 

After the little incident, Rafe thinks she’s just as sweet as sugar, offering to make him tea and asking if he wants a blanket or an extra pillow so he’d be more comfortable sleeping on the couch. 

And he can tell that she’s merely doing it because she’s terrified of him, which she should be. Nonetheless, he thinks it feels nice to be pampered and doted on— to have a pretty girl following his orders like a trained puppy. It makes him figure he’s gonna enjoy his stay just fine.  

The following morning though, he’s woken up by her shaky figure standing next to him— pointing his gun at him. 

He lets out a sigh, softened bones mellow from sleep while he rubs at his eyes and shifts to a seated position on the couch— teasingly lifting his hands up in surrender. “Puppy’s got a gun, huh? Tryin’ to be all tough now, are we?”

“I— I want you to leave,” she says, voice rickety and words unsure.  

And he’s trying to take her seriously, he really is, but it’s proving to be rather difficult when she resembles a scared little kitten more than someone who knows what they’re doing.  

“You want me to leave? Maybe you should, uh, work on your pitch a little more? M’not very convinced,” the lazy smile tugging at his mouth makes her brows crease.  

“Rafe, this is not a joke,” a scowl shades her face.

He thinks she looks rather adorable. “Come on, pup, you’re not gonna shoot me. You don’t even know how to use that thing, do you?” his voice is even, and it makes her hesitate.

“Well…it can’t be that complicated?” it’s more of a question than a statement and he lets out a humored chuckle in response. Her frown deepens.  

“Why don’t you give that to me, yeah? You don’t want death on your conscience, would break ya, you’re too soft for that shit.”  

“You don’t know me.” 

“Know you enough,” he says, finally standing on his feet, taking a slow step towards her, making her squeeze the weapon tighter in her trembling fingers.  

“If— if I give it to you…you’re gonna— you’re gonna kill me and I don’t wanna die,” her words are rushed, hysterical. 

His brows furrow. “Who said anythin’ about killin’ you? Listen, if you give me the gun right now, m’not gonna do anythin’. You have my word, okay?” he towers over her, solid chest grazing the barrel.  

“I don’t trust you,” her voice is a whisper.  

“I know, pup…but I also know that you’re not gonna use that,” his steady hands are a stark contrast to her own when he grabs for the firearm, slipping it from her weak fingers with ease.  

“There we go, no need to be so, uh, so fuckin’ theatrical, yeah?” he lowers his face in order to lock eyes with her. “See? Not hurtin’ you, am I?”  

She manages out a hum of agreement, and then her waterline is brimming with salty droplets as she chokes out a sob. “M’sorry. I don’t—”  

“Hey, hey s’all good. Mistakes happen, yeah?” he says before his strong arms are wrapping around her trembling form because he’s not a complete monster, and for some reason it only makes her weep harder. 

Her crocodile tears wet his shirt while his big paws rub against her back, but he doesn’t seem to mind. And she thinks it’s almost…comforting when he starts to sway her from side to side, like he’s trying to calm down a crying child. 

“There you go, just, uh, let it all out ‘n maybe you can chill out a bit, yeah? You pogues can be so fuckin’ dramatic sometimes,” he pats at her back, rolling his eyes as she takes in shaky inhale after shaky inhale until she’s feeling slightly more placid.  

“Shit, if I’d known you were such a fuckin’ crybaby I would’ve picked another house,” he grumbles, pulling away from her weakened form before pushing her back to stumble on her feet— setting the gun back onto the coffee table with a clank.