#something about being seen as 'other' and being kept at arms length because of that. never really being accepted only used for talent

[davinawritings]

An Alien Thank You

Pairing: Alien X Female Human Reader

Warnings: Smut, Oral (Female Receiving), Multiple Tongues, Squirting

You had never thought aliens were real until one appeared in your backyard. When it happened, you had only been in your new home for about a month. As a writer, you had moved to a small, secluded house in the countryside for some peace and quiet while working. Other than the bi-monthly trips to the food market, you were completely alone with your work and thoughts.

The day had started like any other. You had made breakfast, showered, and even got in a few hours of writing. Suddenly, there was a noise outside your office window. Upon looking, you had seen nothing and waved it off, but moments later, you heard it again. No longer able to ignore it, you had gone out back to see what it was. 

Imagine your shock when a massive creature stood in your backyard, poking around your garden. The creature stood about eleven feet tall and was a dark blue, almost black. Its chest was broad, double the length of your shoulders, and seemed packed with hard muscle. Its shoulders had sharp ridges that nearly looked like thick scales. Its thick thighs had similar ridged scales along the outside. Strong arms lead down to large hands that look terrifying with their sharp nails. The creature’s head was all sharp angles, and its eyes were solid black as they stared at you. 

The scream had been stuck in your throat, but the creature must have seen the panic on your face because it quickly held up its hands and claimed that it meant no harm. You still kept your distance as the creature explained that he was not of your planet but was currently stuck on earth while working out how to build a way home.

You had taken pity on the creature and, against what most would consider better judgment, had decided not to freak out and instead befriend the large creature. You learned his name was Oltuth, and he came from a planet you had never heard of. He was traveling and exploring when his ship malfunctioned and crashed a few miles from your secluded home. Your house was the first place he had come upon that wasn’t just open land, so he had been looking for sustenance in your garden.

You knew you probably shouldn’t invite some strange alien creature into your home, but you felt bad for him, and you couldn’t deny that it was kind of nice to have someone to talk to. You also knew that most people would probably just attack Oltuth without hesitation if they found him, so you offered him refuge in your home under the promise of him being peaceful and kind. He quickly promised, and you were very glad he did.

He became a great help around your house and an even better friend. He helped you around the house and with your now flourishing garden. You both built a routine together while you worked on your book, and he worked on a way to rebuild and repair his ship. The days passed much faster with him to talk to, and before you knew it, months had passed. You both grew closer, and you grew almost sad when you thought about him eventually leaving you to return home. 

Today had gone like any other with Oltuth, and you now sat with a nice cold glass of sweet tea, simply enjoying the late-night sky full of stars while you both talked about the different ways of your species. 

Oltuth clears his throat before he says, “I would like to thank you for the kindness and generosity you have shown me these past few months. If you are okay with it, I would like to show you how the males of my planet thank our females for caring for us the way you have for me”. Excited to learn something new about his species; you quickly agree with an enthusiastic, “Yes.” 

He grabs your smaller hand in his own and brings you inside to the couch. He gently guides you to sit, your butt on the edge of the sofa. Your breath hitches as Oltuth moves his large body between your legs, gently prying your legs open. He kneels before you, gently removing your shorts along with your panties. His long, pointed tongue starts gently lapping at your clit as soft mewls leave your mouth. His jet-black eyes stay trained on your face as you wriggle on the couch. 

His hands grip your thighs tighter as he shifts his tongue into your wet hole. The thickness makes you moan as he licks along your inner walls. You lay back against the cushions, hips thrusting against his face as you slowly feel that beautiful high building. Without warning, you feel something wet, flicking against your swollen clit. Your eyes snap open, and you look down. His large tongue is still buried deep in your cunt, but another slightly smaller tongue is now playing with your needy clit.

You whimper and moan out his name at the double stimulation, tears gathering in your eyes at the overwhelming feeling. The tip of his tongue flicks along that special spot deep inside you, and you try to close your legs on reflex. Oltuth growls and pulls your thighs further apart, speeding up both of his tongues. 

Your knuckles turn white as your grip tightens on the couch. The tongue inside you practically vibrates with how fast it’s thrusting inside your dripping cunt. Your back arches as the smaller tongue moves to match the speed and vibrations of his bigger tongue. 

You look down again to find Oltuth staring right at you, and with one more thrust, you cum hard, clenching on his tongue, your juices squirting out of you as a scream is ripped from your body. Each clench of your cunt is met with another thrust from him, making your orgasm feel like it lasts for hours. He finally slows down as your legs twitch in his hands, giving you a few final licks to clean you up.

He stands before picking you up and bringing you to your room to lay you on the bed. You give him a smile and say, “I really like how your males say thank you, Oltuth.” He gives you a grin before saying, “That was just to get you ready for the real way we say thank you.” Your eyes widen as you look down at his body. A slit at the apex between his thighs opens as three large cocks extend out, one by one, each a little bigger than the last. 

Your eyes flick back up to his face, and all you can think is that your next book is definitely going to be a smutty alien romance story.

❤️💕🖤🖤💕❤️

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

It's a Match! || poly!141 x Reader

[Chapter 27] || [Chapter 29]

Pairing: 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.2K~ cw: illness, injuries, hurt/comfort, fluff, love confessions! Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: Just a cute little moment

Chapter 28: How in the-

The trip with John was short but sweet. A full weekend together, away from everything…

Followed by 4 whole weeks alone. Not that you minded the extra piece and quiet.

You were normally kept at a distance from the boys and their line of work. Arms length, not because they don’t trust you, but because just like Simon learned to drop Ghost at the door, the rest drop work at the door too.

The closest thing you get to ‘work’ is funny anecdotes that can even make you laugh, OR soft, whispered, retelling of memories as your hands snake over their rough skins, fingers grazing the scars that those memories left behind.

Today was a first. In a lot of ways.

The boys showed up at your flat at 3 A.M. after spending a whole month out of Hereford and in God knows where.

You had opened the door very wearily to the sight of the four of them, not even having changed out of their tactical gear, looking like they had been through hell.

Kyle was walking with a limp and a groan, his back stiff and an inability to properly swivel side to side at the hips.

Johnny had gotten his shoulder shot?? Plus his knee was acting up so he was also limping.

John was, also, limping. His back was also stiff and he murmured something about having pulled a muscle.

And Simon? The man’s eyes were surrounded by circles darker than you’d ever seen them, his shoulders slumped. He moved normally, unlike the others. And that concerned you more than anything.

“Jesus, what happened?”

“Mission mishaps. They happen sometimes, da’lin’.” John told you soothingly as he attempted to press a kiss to the crown of your head, but wincing when he felt the pain shoot up his spine.

“Sounds to me like more than mishaps. There’s no way all four of you are injured and it was just a ‘mishap’.” You scolded them as you carefully helped them off their gear, multiple men groaning and grunting in pain as the heavy weights were shed from their torsos.

“Have you been checked?”

“Yes, we went to medic before coming over-” Kyle told you.

“And they let you leave on foot? You look like you all should be on bed rest!” You scolded them.

“And that’s why we’re here.” Johnny added before letting out a groan when you moved his arm, sending pain barreling down his arm.

“How in the-” You murmured as you noted the patched up bullet wound.

“Don’t ask…” Kyle muttered under his breath, a whimper of a sound that you had never quite heard from him.

They were like lost puppies… Needy for being lulled to sleep by a soft hand caressing them behind the ears after some nasty man kicked them on the street.

So that’s how you ended up with four injured soldiers in your house. Ghost took the living room couch, leaving the bed for John and Kyle and Johnny.

“Don’t get any blood on my bed, Johnny!” You warned him. “If something happens, you call me.” You had added as you made sure they were as comfortable as can be before you slipped out of the room.

Reaching the living room, it was now well past 4 A.M. Simon was lying there, one leg swung over the back of your couch, and eyes locked on the shower. “You okay, Simon?” You checked softly.

“Fine, sweetheart.”

“Don’t look fine to me.” You retorted and sat on the armchair by his head, looking down at him, your hand finding his and caressing it.

He twitched a bit against the pillows, brown eyes fluttering for a moment as he took a deep breath. “Mission went tits up. Strained ourselves trying to finish.”

“You too, then?” You asked him and he nodded. “Where?”

“Everywhere. I’m sore all over… And I think I have a fever.” He admitted.

“Do you wanna try a shower?” You suggested and he shook his head.

“I don’t wanna stand up for that long… I get dizzy.”

“And a bath?” You added.

“…” Simon didn’t answer but he groaned and forced himself to stand up. You helped guide him to the bathroom.

After lowering the stopper and allowing the water to flow into the tub, you looked at Simon. “I’ll be outside, okay? I’ll give you privacy.” You told him softly.

Leaning up, you kissed his pale cheek, and turned away…

Only for him to catch you by the wrist. “Stay.”

“What?” You asked him, unsure you heard him right.

“Stay. Please.” He requested.

“But… you said you didn’t-” You trailed off, the memory of his fear of exposing his body to you (or anyone) clear in your mind.

“I know what I said. Just… Please.” He insisted.

“Okay.” You replied and nodded, stepping forward again. He reached his arms up, painfully slowly, the same way John and Kyle and Johnny had.

You grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and slowly rolled it up, your eyes finding his scar-riddled torso for the first time. Blotchy skin due to chemical burns here and there, big gashes and smaller cuts spread throughout.

Simon was looking away the whole time as you helped him off his cargos and underwear. The injuries continued down his legs, every inch of him nasty and ugly, only due to how brutal his scars were. In reality, it all made no difference to you.

“You okay?” You checked on him. He nodded slowly, his eyes screwed shut.

“Let’s get you into the water, okay? It’ll do you good.” You said as you grabbed him by the bicep and helped get him into a seated position inside the tub.

Then, you knelt by his side just as he was grunting in relief, his muscles relaxing in the water. 

The bathtub that had felt tight with you and Johnny in it months ago, now felt even smaller with Simon Riley in it. 

Grabbing the sponge, you carefully ran it over his torso and shoulders, wetting the part of him that didn’t fit in the bath.

The blond leaned his head back on the wall and opened his eyes, finding you looking at him.

“Thank you.” Simon told you in a whisper.

“For bathing you?”

“For dating me.” He replied, causing you to smile.

“My, Simon, you might be sicker than I expected. Where’s the confidence?” You teased him good-naturely, earning a soft chuckle from him.

“Was never here. Just faking it until I made it…” He admitted and shook his head, letting it lull against the tiles.

“I see, well… It worked.” You joked as you kept wetting his body carefully.

“We’re lucky to have you.” He murmured. “You didn’t have to do this. To put up with us.”

“It’s not putting up if I like you.” You told him. “Besides… you take care of me. I take care of you. Mutually beneficial, that’s what a relationship should be.”

“I don’t take care of you because I like you.” Simon whispered, a drowsy look in his tired eyes.

“Then what for?” You asked him. “Because you want to shag me that bad?” You joked again and winked.

“No… because I love you.” Simon muttered, his lips a bit lazy in the way he said it, clearly too relaxed and tired and groggy to really think straight.

Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped open, your hands going limp and dropping the sponge. “Simon…”

“You don’t have to say it back.” He said as he rolled his head against the tile wall, side to side. “Just wanted you to know.”

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taglist (CLOSED! not adding anyone else, sorry!):

@daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling , @tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthunter , @bossva , @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe , @kariiiel , @ltbarnes , @irregulardongyoung , @spacelia , @hayleybarnesx , @cod-z , @frescoisnotinthemilitary , @leeeenistop , @lucienbarkbark , @xxshadowbabexx

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[avocado-writing]

little horny Logan x reader thing. set after the events of deadpool + wolverine. may turn this into something longer one day

tw: alcoholism, AA meetings

rating: explicit

You are two broken people attempting to piece each other back together. 

It feels like a fruitless task sometimes; a Sisyphean boulder, both of you trying to rebuild a heart which has been shattered so many times it can hardly hold love any more. 

But then there are those moments that shine through. You ask him not to smoke, he puts his cigar away. You stop off at the corner store to grab a six-pack, he reminds you that you just got your one year token. 

You met him at AA of course, he was the new guy who had his walls up, you were the old-timer of the group who kept trying not to relapse. Alchohol had taken a lot from you and you didn’t want to let it take any more. Pushing back against it felt impossible but hey, one step at a time. 

Those groups, tucked away in a church basement - buried in the ground as if to, ironically, avert the eyes of god - were your lifeline for a long while. 

After trying to strike up conversation with him, you assumed he hated you. Maybe he was just that brisk with everyone, never sharing at meetings or sticking around to talk after. But then one night he found you about to go into a bar because you were so fucking stressed and a glass of whiskey sounded so so good, and all gruffness and flannel he’d managed to talk you out of it. He’d bought you a coffee and managed to wring out of you that your landlord was pressuring you for money you didn’t have, and you’d rather spend your last twenty dollars on something which made you feel good than try and meet a rent which kept skyrocketing. 

Logan had looked at you, levelly, and told you he’d speak to the guy for you. 

You got a text the next day from your landlord to say that your rent wouldn’t be increasing and, actually, would be going down considerably instead. 

And it was the start of… something. Something strange and fragile, but it was there. You walked his roommates’s dog with him, the weirdest little fucking thing you’d ever seen but quite affectionate despite her bug-eyes and lolling tongue, and Logan was the softest you’d ever seen him when he carried her in his arms when she plopped down on the sidewalk and refused to move any more. 

He fell off the wagon a lot, but that was okay. Recovery wasn’t a straight line, that was something you knew all too well. He was a struggling man and he was trying. To attempt to keep him away from the bottle you’d invite him round practically every night to watch a movie. Action flicks, sappy romances, stupid comedies, the two of you got through them all, and every night you got closer and closer on your beaten-up old couch until he finally fucking kissed you. 

He pulled you into his lap and you felt him get hard in a way which suggested he hadn’t been this close to someone for a long time. His tongue was hot, his hands rough, and you palmed him through his jeans until he came like the two of you were teenagers messing around for the first time. 

You were worried afterwards that you’d scared him off by being too forward, but you got a text asking if you were on for a movie that night. 

It got to the start of the second act before it was forgotten about entirely, your jeans thrown over the end table where you kept the popcorn as he fucked you with his mouth. You tangled your fingers in his hair and pulled until he grunted in satisfaction. Afterwards, his lips and beard were glistening with you. You tasted your orgasm on his tongue as you kissed. 

The night after, you were on your knees between his thighs, his cock buried in your throat and his grip practically tearing your pillows to shreds. 

“You can grab onto me, you know,” you’d whispered, spit dripping down your chin, slightly concerned for your sofa’s upholstery. Logan had stared at you like you’d hung the fucking stars. 

“Yeah, fuck. Okay, baby.”

He dragged you up and down the length of him, fingers against your scalp, and he came so hard that you couldn’t swallow it all. 

Things just… progressed. 

It wasn’t perfect. The two of you were finding your feet again in a confusing and hostile world. But you had each other, and that was a hell of a lot more than most people had. When you fucked, when you felt him slide inside you in a way which made you feel more full than you ever had before, the way his whispered your name like a little prayer and you were his god, all of it… just fucking perfect. 

But the best part was always after. When you were in the hazy glow, cheek against his chest, feeling his heart beating steadily at the comfort of having you pressed up at his side. 

Well. 

You made each other’s worlds brighter.

[merbear25]

Hello! Glad to see requests are open! Seeing that may I get a small thing for Zoro, Law and Mihawk. I've been having the idea of a devil fruit user reader falling into the water and needing rescuing (I'm very aware Law is also a devil fruit user but that just gives extra angst does it not). Hurt/comfort of course

Hello! Thanks for sending this in. I decided to change it a little for Law's, but I hope you like it anyway 💜💜

Even with precautions set in place, the sea was where the unexpected could happen. Whether a storm, sea monster, or battle taking place, the threat of the water was something you could never escape. Luckily, those closest to you were always prepared to protect.

CW: SFW, gn!reader, can be read as platonic or romantic, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, headcanons/scenarios, reader is a devil fruit user

If you went overboard… (Zoro, Law, Mihawk)

Zoro: He’d always been protective over those closest to him, so you were no exception. Though never overbearing, he still kept an eye on you. During times of peril, he kept you in arm's length as often as he could. You were capable—strong in your own right. However, there were dangers that automatically made you far more vulnerable. 

That day’s waters were vicious. The waves cascading over the railings gave no sign of the storm letting up. One wrong step was all it took to send you hurtling overboard. A shriek that pierced even during the hurricane-like winds sent the other hearts onboard plummeting.

Their cries for you weren’t accompanied by Zoro’s, but his action traveled faster than their worried calls. Before your limp body had the chance to sink much lower than the surface, he was there, diving in after you.

He was never short of prepared. Even when taking one of many naps, being aware of his surroundings never faltered. 

A watchful eye on everything and everyone, his friends being the ones calling for actions guided by the heart.

He wasn’t one to hound others on things they were already aware of. The unexpected should be expected, and that meant there’d be times when you were made vulnerable and in need of help, just like all the others.

Law: The sea gave no pardons to anyone. Your devil fruit abilities came with a burden that at times felt more like a curse. The calm waters the Polar Tang was cutting through turned dark as the daytime sky transformed into night. With night came more blind spots because of the abyss inevitably closing in.

A sudden wack against the side sent some of the crew members to the floor. Books flew off the shelves and the alarm sounded through the metal rooms. Red lights that blinked in urgency left split seconds of total darkness in your room. Another slam caused you to trip and miss the door handle.

Water started spouting through the cracks, and with each attack against the submarine the cracks grew in size. Your cries for help were quickly silenced by the rising water. The cold ocean held you in a tight embrace against your bedroom floor, yet offering no comfort. An immediate drop outside your room jolted you awake.

It would come as second nature. No thought, just action. You were one of the few who he considered close to him.

Rescuing you, no matter how often, came with some lectures, though. Even if it wasn’t entirely your fault, he mostly did it as a way of expressing his fear of losing someone he cared about again.

Thorough check-ups after such shocks to the system were given, even if you protested saying you were just fine.

Mihawk: Holding the title of the greatest swordsman marked him and anyone close to him as a target. The bullseye seen by the world was drifting casually through the seas, catching the rays of that day’s sun. The rippling water from an approaching ship didn’t even cause him to open his eyes. He was still enjoying the warmth of the sun, but with the supposed enemy drawing nearer, he was left with no choice but to give them even a fraction of his attention.

The captain baited Mihawk, wanting to see the swordsman’s raw power for himself, even if that meant putting his crew’s lives in jeopardy. However, Mihawk wasn’t known for being temperamental, which many of these hecklers seemed to forget. A smooth swing of his sword and their ships sank to pits of the ocean floor.

When a shot was fired at you, the bullet was sliced in mid air. Though you hung around someone whose composure didn’t break, you flinched enough for the both of you. A motion back one step too far was all it took for you to lose your footing and slip into the shackles bound to you by the devil fruit. His challengers were swatted like the pests they were before he dove in after you.

Even his lectures were articulated like advice, which you accepted without protest.

He’d insist on giving you training to help you control these impulses, albeit natural, were life threatening in the wrong situations.

That being said, he obviously knew that once you were overboard, you required his full attention. He simply wanted to offer you assistance to prevent this from happening more frequently.

[natalievoncatte]

“What I did wasn’t personal,” Lena said.

Supergirl had already turned to face her. There were words formed on her lips, but Alex struck first, bringing her viper wit where it wasn’t needed or welcome.

“You had a stash of ‘Kills Kryptonians’. It’s personal,” said Alex.

Lena ignored her, looking directly at Supergirl.

“You know I’d never use it that way.”

“You kept secrets,” said Supergirl. “Secrets change things. I don’t like secrets.”

“Oh really,” Lena spat, knowing she’d regret what came next. “You don’t like secrets. Okay. What’s your real name?”

Alex flinched. Supergirl stared her down. Even in this miserable place, she was inhumanly beautiful, even if Lena was a little resentful that she’d been bitching about walking fifty yards a few moments ago, and making light of exercise, when she had the audacity to look like that.

The pause grew heavy. Something seemed to turn behind Supergirl’s eyes, like she was working something out. Her expression softened lightly.

“Why didn’t you come to me about Sam? I thought we trusted each other.”

“How can I trust you?” Lena said. “You still hold me at arm’s length, won’t let me in, only look for my help when it’s convenient for you. Maybe I should have sought your help, but it isn’t like I have you on speed dial, is it? What was I supposed to do, toss myself off a balcony and hope you were having coffee with Kara Danvers again?”

Supergirl flinched. Looking at Lena intently, she stepped closer, and Alex grew visibly nervous.

“Supergirl…” she said.

“You want to know my real name?”

“Yes,” Lena said, her voice suddenly unsteady, her palms breaking out in a sweat despite the cool, stale air. She stood her ground before a being that could level a mountain with a look and held her gaze.

“Kryptonian names are patronymics, sort of. A man’s name is his own and that of his family. So, for example, my cousin’s name is Kal-El. His father was Jor-El.”

“I knew that already,” said Lena. “Your cousin shared that an interview with Lois Lane.”

“He can share his because he has a name that was given to him by his adoptive family,” said Supergirl, her voice softening as she took another step closer. “I still use my Kryptonian first name.”

Something about that itched at Lena’s brain, but she wasn’t sure what.

“Supergirl,” Alex hissed. “You can’t… we can’t…”

Supergirl threw her a glance. “What? Trust her?” She looked at Lena. “My father was Joe-El’s brother, Zor-El. My mother’s name was Alura In-Ze.”

Lena licked her lips.

“They gave me the name Kara,” said Kara Zor-El. “On Earth, I accepted the surname of the family that took me in to raise me when my cousin gave me up to them. My full name is Kara Zor-El Danvers.”

Lena stumbled a step back, her mouth falling open comically. It felt like the ground was bursting open and swallowing her up, her stomach dropping through her knees.

No. No, no, no, no. It couldn’t be.

“Look at me, Lena.”

Lena looked away from her.”

“Look at me.”

Lena looked.

Lena saw.

Her hair was down, but Lena knew those honeyed curls. Supergirl carried herself differently- her shoulders were proud where Kara tended to hunch down, make herself small, as if to pass through the world without touching it.

Lena hadn’t really looked before. Not like this. She’d studied Kara, maybe even mooned over Kara a little until she seemed to confirm she was straight by dating that alien jackass. She knew every part of her face from her soft lips to her feel blue eyes to that funny little scar right over her eye.

How had she not seen?

“Fucking hell, Kara!” Alex snapped.

Lena’s lip trembled. She clenched her fists to keep her hands steady, knowing they were shaking.

“You tricked me,” Lena hissed, “so many times, so many ways, running off and changing into that suit when I thought you were both people. The super-speed, right?”

“I’m sorry,” said Kara, her voice soft. “Let’s just…”

“I wasn’t finished,” said Lena. “You… you told me you were having coffee with Kara, but you are Kara. Kara… you caught me when they threw me off the balcony. You risked being killed by a kryptonite explosion when Metallo went critical. You… you were… Jesus Christ, the plane, the chemicals, that was you?”

Kara’s eyes grew wider with every syllable and even in the gloom, Lena could swear she saw tears welling up within them.

“She’s risked her life for you over and over and over,” Alex said, quietly. “Her faith in you has only wavered the once. She’s always defended you and insisted on your innocence even when I was ready to throw you in a cell,” said Alex. “She defended you from the first. Shit, she defended you from Superman.”

Lena looked from one to the other, staring at them both in turn, trying to keep her wobbly legs from completely collapsing under her.

“I owe you an apology,” said Kara, raising her gaze to meet Lena’s.

“Can you two do this later?” said Alex. “We’re on a mission, here.”

Lena swallowed, hard.

“Yeah. Let’s go find Sam.”

They did find Sam, eventually, but the plan went sideways. After they were thrust back into their bodies, Supergirl -Kara- curtly told her to help Brainy while she and Alex rushed off.

So Lena helped brainy, until it was time for her to leave. Eventually, she made her way back to her penthouse, and to a glass of single malt, neat. She savored its subtleties as she stared out at the stars.

She knew this would happen sooner or later, so she wasn’t surprised when Kara touched down on the balcony, looking utterly stunning and brave and dashing in her fancy suit. She motioned to knock at the glass.

“It’s not locked.”

“Hi,” said Kara, stepping inside.

Lena looked up. “I can’t believe I didn’t see. You’re just… you, in a different outfit.”

That wasn’t exactly true, Lena knew. As she walked into Lena’s living room, Kara had neither the mousy, retiring way of Kara Danvers nor the brash swagger of Supergirl. It was like she was seeing a third person, one who’d been fully revealed for the first time.

“I’ve been going back and forth in my mind, trying to decide what parts of our friendship were real.”

“All of it,” Kara said.

“If my brother were here, he’d say that you befriended me to spy on me and use my resources and genius for your own ends.”

“That’s not true.”

Lena took a sip, and breathed in through her parted lips after swallowing to savor it.

“I know. He said the same thing about Jack, actually. Lex always tries to convince me that anyone else in my life is just after my name or money or body.”

Kara said nothing. Lena looked up.

“Just because he’s a madman who wants to gaslight me into being a supervillain doesn’t mean he’s always wrong. Does it?”

Kara swallowed, hard.

“You’ve been very insistent on being my friend,” said Lena. “You practically barged into my life and broke down all my barriers with your earnest kindness, but you were keeping yourself behind another one.”

“The first time I ever saw you, I knew in my heart that you were nothing like him,” said Kara. “I remember every detail.”

“In my office, with Kent.”

“No. In the helicopter. That was the first time I saw you.”

Lena swirled the dregs in her glass. “Oh. Right.”

“I just had to know you. You were compelling, and the way you treated me in your office that day was a huge part of that. You seemed so… I don’t even know how to describe it. I just knew I had to be close to you.”

A fit of pique moved her arm before she could contain herself, and Lena threw the glass. Kara snatched it from the air and placed it on the table without spilling a drop.

She was closer now, standing within arm’s reach.

“You can’t just say things like that to me,” Lena almost hissed, her voice loosened by the whiskey and the one before and the one before that.

“Why?” said Kara.

Lena looked up, swaying slightly.

“You told me your name.”

“I should have sooner. We could have worked together. We could have done a lot of things.”

“Fuck,” Lena snapped. “You’re doing it again! Knock it off?”

“Knock what off?”

“You goddamn well what,” said Lena. “Or maybe you really don’t.”

“I’m sorry,” said Kara. “I just don’t understand. Can you… do you want to tell me what you mean?”

“I… sit down.”

Kara swept her cape aside and sat primly in a side chair, folding her hands in her lap, worrying at the back of her thumb with her other thumb. God, she even had Kara’s mannerisms.”

“I’m gay,” said Lena.

Kara swallowed. “But… you were with Jack… and James… and you really seem to like the letter J,” Kara said, lamely.

“It’s called bisexuality, Kara. It’s a thing.”

“Oh, I um, I don’t really get ‘sexualities.’ On Krypton, we didn’t have sexual preferences. We didn’t choose our partners at all, everything was arranged.”

“That sounds awful,” said Lena.

Kara looked away. “It was our way and it worked. We had stable families, and most people had a kind of love. My parents loved each other.”

Lena sighed. “I wish I could say that. One of my parents didn’t love anyone but himself. Your sister is gay, Kara. How can you not understand it?”

“I understand that. I just find the whole thing confusing, and overwhelming. I keep looking for this spark that everyone talks about, and these ‘gut feelings’, but every time I think I’ve had it, it wasn’t right.”

“It seemed right with Mon-El. Oh. Oh Jesus. You banished your own boyfriend from Earth.”

Kara shook her head. “I know it did. I thought it did. I just never… it was the idea of him. I was checking a box. I was with him to have a boyfriend, not to have him. We’re really different people.”

“Why are we talking about this again?” said Lena.

Kara suddenly looked nervous, and thus even more like herself.

“I don’t know. It just seems to have happened. Kind of like our whole friendship. I never made a plan to be your friend. I never had an agenda. I just needed you in my life without knowing why. You just bring me joy.”

Lena wanted to laugh. She wanted to cry, she wanted to scream.

You big indestructible goof, that is the spark!

“I should have told you about me after Medusa. I should have trusted you then, but Alex talked me out of it. I didn’t push past when it counted. I know you doubt how much you mean to me now, and I’m so sorry I did that.”

“I’d never hurt you, ever,” said Lena. “Even if you weren’t Kara. But I could never hurt her. You.”

“I know.

“For what it’s worth,” said Lena. “I felt it too. That pull, that need to know you. That’s why I allowed you to get close to me instead of being bundled off by my security. I felt it from the first, that day you came to my office. I might have felt it a little during the helicopter crash, too.”

Kara nodded.

“I feel like there’s something we’re both not saying.”

Lena licked her lips.

“I have to stop the worldkillers. I have to save Sam. I have to fix it all. I just needed to talk to you first. See you first, see you again, just the two of us.”

Lena nodded, swallowing.

“I guess I should go.”

Lena wanted to tell her not to. To ask her to spend the night, change out of that ridiculous suit, to just be Kara and stay with her, but it dawned on her now that it could never be quite like that again. Kara was Supergirl and Supergirl had to be shared with the world.

“I want to help. I’ll come to the DEO.”

“Okay,” said Kara. “I’ll see you there.”

She stood up and walked to the balcony, pausing before she opened the door. She didn’t turn when she spoke, as if she was afraid to face Lena, to face the answer.

“Do you think, when this is over, we can try it again? Try to fix it?”

“Is that something you want?” Said Lena.

“That pull is still there.”

“I know,” said Lena. “I feel it too.”

Kara’s shoulders rose and fell, as if she’d just rolled a great burden from her back.

“Okay,” she said. “Okay. I’ll see you back at the DEO. Goodnight, Lena.”

“Goodnight, Kara.”

She slid the balcony door open and stepped out, pausing for just the briefest second before lifting off, sending a gentle gust of chilly night air rolling into Lena’s penthouse.

Lena let the breeze flow in for a while before she stood up and went to the door, meaning to close it. Instead, she stepped outside, leaning on the railing as the chill raised gooseflesh on her arms.

“I feel it, too.”

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

Day 8: Masturbation

Warnings: Smut, masturbation (m + f), fingering (f receiving), if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

Kinktober

After trying so hard with the relationship you finally gave up, ending it with him, you just couldn't take the arguing and the distance and the this and the that, it was just all too much for you and you couldn't do it anymore.

Axl still loved you, anyone he loved, he loved hard and he couldn't let it go, so he let you stay with him. He'd leave money around for you to find, hoping you'd just take it and not question him on it or something, he'd bring you gifts by just leaving them on your pillow or somewhere else in your room for you to find.

He'd never give you anything himself, both because he didn't want to come off as needy or clingy but also because he couldn't risk you rejecting it.

Axl loved you, and while he loved giving you gifts he just needed you sometimes. Bad.

It was late, you were at work and Axl was alone in bed, alone... His mind was wandering and soon so was his hand.

He reached for his nightstand, pulling out the drawer and taking the lotion and pictures of you he save out. He pumped some of the lotion onto his hand, his boxers long tossed aside, and started stroking his half hard cock.

With his other hand he looked through the pictures of you he'd kept, most weren't sexual, there was the odd one or two, most were just pictures of you he had.

He didn't want to get over you, you were so pretty, your personality was everything he could want and more and he just had to go and fuck it up.

His hand moved faster as he stared at that picture of you standing in front of the Eiffel tower. You wore a flowy dress with a slit in the leg, puffy sleeves and a sunhat, large glasses and that smile he couldn't get enough of.

You didn't want to take the picture, Paris was so over romanticized and people were staring, mostly at Axl, but he thought you looked so perfect, he needed to capture the moment and the wind added to the moment in the best way.

"Axl..?" You muttered from the door, yanking Axl from his thoughts just as he was about to cum, his body hot, chest heaving and his head rolled back.

His eyes widened as he saw you standing in the doorway of his room, eyes filled with tears as you stared at him in his hand.

You quickly made your way across the room and over his lap, not before getting out of your work pants and underwear, lips crashing down on his.

Axl's arms wrapped around you, holding you close and kissing you deeply. Despite everything in his being telling him to keep going he had to pull away, make sure you were ok. "What-what happened..?" He asked through laboured breaths.

"I-I just had... a really, really bad day... do this for me." Your hand went down to your already wet cunt, rubbing your clit in loose circles.

You tried to lean back into the kiss but Axl held you back. "I wanna watch." That sentence alone got you hotter than any of the other assholes you'd seen had managed to make you.

Axl's hand went back to himself, watching your hips twitch and buck into your hand, slim fingers working fast as your eyes flickered over him, his chest rising and falling, dark eyes staring intently. He couldn't get enough of you like this.

"Slow down." He purred, holding off on his own high. "You and I both know you don't like that." You slowed your movements, moaning out at the sensations it creating deep within you.

Why did he have to know you so well?

He kept giving you instructions, it was all laced in love but edged with degrading terms and a tone of mockery. "This is your own fucking body, why are you so shit at doing this?" He grumbled.

You huffed, tears rolling down your eyes. All you wanted was him at this point, your hand was never gonna be enough, not when he was right here with you. "Then you do it!" You whined, moving off his lap and folding your arms over your chest, sniffling softly.

Axl stared at you a moment, hand stopping on his length.

He snaked an arm around your waist and pulled you closer to his side, hand going down to rub your clit. He leaned down to you, lips caressing the shell of your ear. "Just relax, let me do it."

[ruewrote]

𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆, 𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒏𝒐𝒘.

PAIRING: ellie williams x fem!reader WARNINGS: miscommunications, no use of y/n GENRE: angst, fluff SONG INSPIRATION: come over (again) by crawlers WORD COUNT: 1.8k

navigation | ask | ellie williams masterlist

ellie had no problems loving you in private.

in your homes, in the quiet of your bedrooms, on long supply runs where there was no one to see, in the dark. 

she had no problem touching you then, tracing the inside of your wrist with her fingertips, pressing her lips to the spot behind your ear, whispering things she’d never dare say in the daylight.

she loved you then. or at least, it felt like she did.

but when it came to jackson, when it came to existing outside the bubble of secrecy she had built for the two of you. she had made it painfully clear how she felt.

no touching. no lingering looks. no acknowledgement.

you had told yourself, in the beginning, that it was fine.

you had accepted it because it mattered to her. because she was scared, and you understood why. 

even in the apocalypse, even when there were bigger things to worry about than who was loving who, she still cared what people might think. jackson was full of older folks, the kind of people who had grown up in a world before the outbreak, who might still hold onto beliefs that no longer mattered.

you thought it was bullshit.

because it didn’t matter to you.

she did.

but that didn’t change the fact that it hurt.

that it burned every time she kept her distance, every time she turned away from you, every time she made you feel like whatever you had wasn’t worth the risk of being seen.

and then, you slipped.

it had been after a supply run, nothing unusual, just another long trip outside the gates where you’d both had each other’s backs, where things had felt easy. you had gotten used to this version of ellie, the one who touched you freely when no one else was around, the one who kissed you first, the one who made you feel like she was yours.

so when you kissed her. just a quick thing, barely a press of lips before you pulled away to put the supplies where they belonged, you hadn’t even thought about it.

but she had.

you felt it the moment she froze up, the way her whole body locked, stiff and unmoving.

you had barely pulled back before she was stepping away, flustered, brushing it off like it had been nothing, like it hadn’t meant anything, like it hadn’t even happened at all. and then she walked away from you. just like that.

that was when you broke.

your patience, your restraint, your willingness to let her keep you at arm’s length just to avoid a fight.

because she cared more about what others thought than she did about how you felt.

and that, that angered you.

so you stopped.

stopped letting her in at night, stopped speaking to her, stopped going on runs together. you changed your routes, made sure you weren’t scheduled on the same shifts, avoided places where you knew she’d be. 

if she couldn’t acknowledge you in public, then why do this at all? if she didn’t care, then why should you?

you stayed angry.

for weeks. maybe months.

you weren’t sure anymore, but it didn’t matter. because every time you saw her across town, every time she made like she was going to come closer, every time she hesitated, like she wanted to say something but couldn’t bring herself to, your anger only deepened.

god, even joel had noticed.

he had met you outside of the stables one morning, arms crossed, voice even.

“she’s hurting.”

you had scoffed at that, shaking your head. “yeah? so am i.”

he hadn’t tried to argue. just gave a slow nod, watching you the way only joel could. like he already knew what you were thinking.

“but you can’t go on like this,” he said.

that, at least, you could agree with.

because you couldn’t.

and ellie knew it.

that was why she finally cornered you.

it was in the middle of town, out in the open where anyone could see, and the sight of her coming toward you, immediately set you on edge.

you tried to push past her.

she didn’t let you.

“you stand there and listen to me.”

the command in her voice made something in you snap.

you stared at her, a sharp, bitter laugh escaping your lips before you could stop it. “no,” you said, voice cutting. “you don’t get to talk to me like that. ever.”

she flinched, just barely, but you didn’t stop.

“you were the one ashamed of whatever this was,” you went on, voice steady. “so i made it simple for you.”

ellie shook her head, stepping closer, voice rough. “it’s not that simple.”

“yes, it is.” you exhaled, eyes burning, your fingers curling into fists at your sides. “you made it clear how you felt, ellie. no touching. no looking. nothing. you cared more about what people thought than you did about how i felt. so i just did what you wanted.”

“i didn’t want this.” her voice cracked, just slightly.

you let out a humourless laugh, shaking your head. “then what did you want?”

she hesitated.

that was worse than if she had just denied it outright.

because it meant she still didn’t have an answer.

and if she didn’t have an answer now, she never would.

you stepped around her, making to leave.

her fingers wrapped around your wrist.

it was the first time she had touched you in months.

“don’t,” you whispered.

her grip tightened. “please.”

you squeezed your eyes shut, jaw clenched, willing yourself not to let it affect you, not to let her get to you again. “let go, ellie.”

“not until you listen to me.”

you turned, eyes flashing. “funny how you suddenly don’t give a shit about an audience.”

ellie’s throat worked, but she didn’t let go.

her fingers were warm against your skin.

“come with me,” she whispered.

you should have said no.

you wanted to.

but you didn’t.

and that was how you found yourself here, in a quiet corner of the town, away from prying eyes, standing across from her like the months apart had never happened.

except they had.

and you weren’t the same.

“i was scared,” she admitted. “alright? that’s it. that’s the truth.”

you stared at her. “of what?”

she laughed, short and humorless, running a hand through her hair. “of losing you.”

the words sent something sharp through you.

your voice was quiet when you spoke. “you already did.”

ellie sucked in a breath.

you shook your head. “you don’t get to push me away, make me feel like i don’t matter, and then turn around and tell me it was to protect me. you don’t get to decide what’s best for me, ellie.”

silence.

“i know.” her voice was barely there, breaking on the edges.

she took a step closer.

then another.

her hand brushed yours, tentative, careful. as if she was waiting for you to pull away.

“i fucked up,” she whispered.

your throat burned.

“yeah,” you said. “you did.”

she swallowed hard.

“i don’t want to hide anymore.”

the words knocked the air from your lungs.

you closed your eyes, inhaling slowly.

then, carefully, so carefully, you laced your fingers through hers.

and, for the first time in months, you let her in.

your fingers were still laced through hers, but you didn’t let it be enough. not this time. not when she had spent so long making you feel like you weren’t worth the risk.

so you met her eyes, voice hoarse when you spoke.

“prove it.”

ellie blinked. “what?”

“prove to me that this isn’t some bullshit just to get back in my pants. to get you in my good books. because i can’t keep doing this.” your fingers curled tighter around hers, knuckles white. 

“you might be scared to show who you are, but i’m not.”

a beat of silence.

and then she moved.

she didn’t hesitate. didn’t second guess.

she grabbed your wrist, tugging you behind her, weaving through the crowded street. you barely had time to register the confused voices, the curious looks, the way people turned in her wake. she didn’t care.

and neither did you.

not when she stopped. right back in the middle of town, in the busiest part of jackson.

she turned to you, eyes burning with something fierce, something certain.

and then she was grabbing the collar of your coat, yanking you toward her, and kissing you.

deep. unapologetic.

like she was making up for every time she hadn’t.

like she wanted every single person watching to know exactly what you were to her.

when she finally pulled back, breathless, lips still barely brushing yours, she smirked just slightly, voice low enough that only you could hear.

“well,” she murmured, eyes flicking down to your mouth before meeting your eyes again. 

“that should shut you up, huh?”

comments and reblogs are appreciated ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

© ruewrote 2025.

[marino6hughes]

IF SHE WANTS A COWBOY

ׂ╰┈➤ luke hughes x reader

summary: in which luke hughes wants to be your cowboy.

note: this is really short and my first time writting! enjoy.

warnings: fluff, childhood best friends to lovers.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Ever since you were little, you and Luke have been inseparable. Moving next door to the Hughes family meant spending countless afternoons out on the lake or out playing hockey on their drive way. Your friendship was the kind that weathered through all seasons. Over the years, the bond you shared only deepened, rooted in a shared history and an unspoken understanding that, no matter how hard you tried to deny it, you loved each other.

Luke's feelings for his childhood best friend had grown into something deeper, something he kept close to his heart. His love was silent but strong. He told no one about it. Not even his brothers. His love for you could be clearly seen and everyone knew was there even when nothing was told. He'd go to any lengths to make you smile, which was exactly what he was doing now. If you wanted to go line dancing with him he would be your dam cowboy.

She wants a cowboy, so I just might

Find me some boots that fit me right

You looked at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes, enthusiasm as contagious as your smile. "Come on, it'll be a fun!" you insisted, tugging at his arm gently. He raised an eyebrow, skeptical about the whole line dancing idea. Noticing his hesitation, you playfully rolled your eyes and promised, "I'll teach you all the steps, and if you really hate it, we can leave, no questions asked." with a reluctant chuckle, he agreed. "Alright, but only because it's you asking," he said, and you beamed, wholly satisfied with your small victory. You were so in love with this boy.

I ain't never rode a horse

Or worn a cowboy hat

But I find me one that fits my head

Your boots clattered against the brick steps as you walked up to the bars entrance. The sound of music and people talking, and the sound of boots dancing could be heard as you approached the two large doors. It was a warm summer night in Michigan.

You pushed open the door, instantly being greeted with the smell of whiskey and a sight of a whole lot of cowboy hats.

“Will a drink ease your nerves?” You turned to Luke a cowboy hat perched on his head. His brown curls peaking out from underneath it.

He smiles, softly. “I think it might- it’ll at least get me on the dance floor, right?”

“That it will do” You laugh slightly claiming two chairs at the bar top.

He takes a seat beside you, his shoulders brushing against yours for a brief moment as he settles into his chair. He stares at you for a moment as the dimly lit bar makes your skin glow, long brown hair pushed away from your face with two braids. You looked fucking beautiful to him.

“Can’t get you too drunk cowboy or you really wont be able to dance.” You laugh nudging his shoulder.

A roguish smirk forms at the corner of his lips as he leans in slightly. His lips brushing against your ear "Don't worry about me. I can handle my alcohol," He reassures you with a cocky tone, his voice lowering. "It's my dancing skills that might need the extra practice," He admits half-jokingly.

Seeing him in denim jeans with brown cowboy boots that fit perfect on his long legs, a white shirt that looks almost made for him as it stretches around his biceps and a cowboy hat. It was too much for you. Any second your heart would tell you to act on your desires.

As the lively country music filled the air, Luke and you stepped onto the dance floor with a mix of excitement and nerves. You were already moving with a natural rhythm as you’ve done this before, your steps confident as your boots hit the wood floor. Luke, on the other hand, was a bit more hesitant, his movements awkward as he tried to keep up. occasionally tripping over his own feet while muttering hushed curses. His cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and amusement as he glanced at you. You flashed him a reassuring smile and reached out to guide his hands to the right positions. "Just follow my lead," you laughed, pulling him into the dance. Step by step, he began to catch on, your laughter blending with the music as you slowly found rhythm together. It was a new experience for Luke, but with you by his side, he felt like he could eventually master any dance. And he would for you.

And I learned to two step so I can spin her

Off her pretty little country feet

If she wants a cowboy then I'll be as cowboy

As the song picked up pace, Luke felt a surge of confidence. With a cheeky grin, he took your hand and spun you around gracefully. you laughed, lose strands of your hair flying out of from your braids as you twirled under his arm. For a moment, Luke felt like as if you were the only two people in the world. As you came back into his arms, your eyes sparkled with amusement, and you both couldn't help but laugh, caught up in the joy and exhilaration of the dance.

In the midst of your laughter and twirling, You could tell Luke was caught up in the moment and feeling bolder than usual, he blurted out, "I want to be your cowboy!" His words hung in the air, a playful yet sincere declaration that seemed to make the music pause for a second. You paused mid-step, surprise quickly melting into a warm smile. It was Luke's spontaneous confession that made you pause dancing, “You wanna be my cowboy?”

Find me a horse that I can cover

Find me some stars to sleep under

Find me a train, I'll hop out west

If she wants a cowboy, I'll cowboy the best

“Fuck.” He breathed. “I do, I want all of you.” He confessed looking down at you.

What the fuck. You thought.

His fingers grazed over your blush pink cheeks as he held your face, “I need you.”

You looked up at him, his 6’2 body towering over you. You searched his eyes looking for a sign, anything. His brown eyes tinted a light green seemed to carry a desire and by the way they stared back at you. You could tell he was slightly nervous.

As the song neared its end, Luke leaned in closer, his eyes locking with yours in a moment filled with anticipation. The playful energy that had surrounded you all night seemed to quiet down, replaced by a tender vulnerability. Gently, he brushed a strand of hair that had fallen from your face, his touch light but filled with intent, his fingers then grazed your cheekbone. Then, slowly, he leaned down to your level, “Can i kiss you?”. He whispered, you nodded as he connected your lips. You kissed him back. It was a soft, careful kiss, as he savored the moment with you. It held a promise of something more profound. The bar you were currently in seemed to fade away, and in the moment it was just the two of you lips connected by a kiss that spoke louder than words.

If you wanted a cowboy, he would be yours.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

@hammerhead96 I AM BITING THIS! I am so sorry it took 45 years <3

Anselm Vogelweide x gn!Reader • Rating: PG pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • buy me a coffee? • ask-travaganza masterlist •

Summary: You paint Anselm's portrait.

Warnings: Fluff, Anselm has siblings here, I'm just making stuff up, little bit of jealous!Anselm, kissing, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 2311

“Stop moving.” You glare politely at Anselm over the canvas.  

He smiles sweetly at you from his position on the chair in the middle of the room. The large floor length curtains are drawn, letting in the late morning sunshine. He’s sat at a slight three quarter angle, his scared side facing you. 

It had been his sister that had commissioned you, Adela Vogelweide, a gift for his birthday. The fact that she’d chosen you had surprised you. You knew she had enough personal wealth to hire practically anyone in the world for whatever exorbitant amount they wanted and still consider it small change. 

Adela had seen some of your pieces at a local gallery showing, the curator an old friend of yours, where she had quite loudly enquired about the price of your largest landscape. Paid three times the asking amount, and then said it was still undervalued. 

She had called you up personally after convincing your friend to let her use their phone. The first words she’d spoken to you when you picked up were, “Why are you underselling yourself?” 

Adela was brazen and kind, with a quick temper she had never directed at you. She dyed her hair black, something she delighted in telling you, except for two streaks that framed her face, those she kept in her natural grey. She had also delighted herself in telling you all about her older brother Anselm, and what a nuisance he was, a rapscallion, but a loveable one. And wouldn’t you be a dear and paint his portrait? 

This was your fourth sitting.

“You said I could move a little, my dear?” He gives you a cheeky grin. 

You poke your head around the canvas again, purposefully benign a little more dramatic than you truly need to be, because you know it amuses him. 

“Emphasis on a little.” 

His smile widens. “Am I moving too much?” He feigns innocence badly. 

You give him a look. “Yes. Stop fidgeting.” 

“My leg.” He pouts, and rubs his thigh. 

“Anselm.” 

“Yes, my dear?” 

“That leg is not the one with your brace on.” 

He chuckles and then quickly puts on a mock serious expression. “Can’t my other leg hurt? My, my, this is most uncaring of you, and here I thought you such a sweet person.” 

“Well, you thought wrong then, didn’t you?” You carry on painting, adding a little shading. Most of the sittings so far were just to get a feel for him as a subject. You’d completed several rough sketches and paintings, and taken umteenth reference photos. 

“I don’t think so, my dear, I’m a very good judge of character.” 

“Would you say that runs in the family?” You ask nonchalantly. 

“How so?” 

“Is Adela a good judge of character?” 

He pauses for a moment and then nods, “She is.” 

“She warned me about you.” You say offhandedly and Anselm cackles with glee.

“Did she?” 

“She did.” 

“How marvellous. Did she tell you I’m a wretched and depraved lust filled bloodthirsty tyrant?” 

You pause, “No.”

“What did she say?” He strokes his beard slightly.

“That you were cheeky.” 

He tuts. “Now, that is a gross misrepresentation, I will have to have words with her.” 

“Don’t get me in trouble.” You giggle. 

“Now, now, my dear. She’ll most likely tell me off for some reason, probably for my playful, but oh so charming treatment of you, wouldn’t you say?” 

You give him another look and he laughs. 

“You disagree?” 

“Stop fishing for compliments.”

“Ah, but I must. You haven’t said one kind thing to me all morning.” He folds his arms, pretending to huff. 

“First, that is untrue, second, stop moving.” 

He grins, “My apologies,” and puts his arms back down. “My dear Adela does love to scold me, despite being the younger sibling. You would think she was twelve years my senior, not junior… It is the different father I think.” He smiles fondly. 

“You have different fathers?” 

He nods, “You are enquiring about the surname yes?” 

You nod as well. 

“Well, my mother is Magdalena Vogelwiede, the only child of my grandfather who lived past infancy. She kept the family name and refused to change it when she married, not that any of her husbands would have dared to argue with her, besides all of them coveted the prestige of being part of the Vogelwiede family. All of her children were given her last name.”

“Do you have other siblings?” You ask, still holding your paintbrush but you have given up most pretences of actually working. The way he talked was almost hypnotic. Soothing. You could happily listen for hours. 

“I do, I had an older brother, Wilhelm, who died very young. When my father died, my mother remarried and had Adela and Helena. She divorced my step-father when Helena was two, shame, as I was quite fond of him. She didn’t marry the father of my youngest sister, Libeste. But that was a very good thing, he was a terrible bore.”

You smile, delighting in the fondness in his expression. “Is she still with us?” 

He nods, “She is, going very strong. She lives in Italy with her suitor, a toy boy.”

“Toy boy?” You snort. 

“He’s only sixty eight.” He chuckles. 

“Scandalous.” You grin. 

“I like him very much, his name is Alvin, like the chipmunks. Which is what he said to me the first time I met him, a very sweet man, utterly besotted with my mother, the poor fool.”

“The poor fool?”

“She bullies him so,” Anselm sighs fondly, “But he does love it. So I think they are meant to be with each other.” 

You barely manage another five minutes of painting before Anselm has to take an emergency meeting. He apologises profusely and kisses your hand when you leave. You do your best to hide your giddiness when his lips touch your skin.

The following Thursday you’re back at his house, mansion, just about to get out of your car when your phone rings. Adela. 

You press accept. “Hello, Adela.” 

“My darling, how are you? Are you well?” Her voice practically purrs on the other end of the phone.

“I’m good, you?” 

“Fine, fine, listen, I am having a small get together tomorrow night, I will send a car for you. Yes?” 

“I,” You pause, ever so slightly taken aback. “Well…”

“You are free of course?” 

“Well, I was going to work on the portrait-”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, you have plenty of time, I understand art works can take years.”

“I don’t think it’ll take me years, I mean-”

“See? You are already ahead of schedule then my darling, 8pm the car will come. It’s a small thing, barely a hundred people, casual dress. And I mean it, wear jeans and a t-shirt if you want, or nothing at all.”

You open your mouth to speak and close it again as she continues.

“I simply must introduce you to my son. Anyway, see you then, ciao!” 

She hangs up before you can even say a word. 

You’re setting up in the ground floor study when Anselm comes in. His expression is stormy, you would almost say bleak if it wasn’t for the hard look in his eyes. 

He sits on the chair without his usual exuberance, muttering a quiet “Good morning.” 

You pause, still setting up your easel. Part of you isn’t sure if you know him well enough to ask about what’s bothering him, even though he’s been nothing but forthcoming and charming with you. You swallow down your anxiety.

“Are you okay?” 

“Hmm,” he nods and doesn’t look at you.”Perfectly well.” 

You bite your thumbnail nervously, but don’t ask again. You set up the rest of your equipment in silence. 

The quiet is odd. You realise you’re so used to hearing him talk, to being swept up in his tales that now the room seems hollow and barren without them. Cold and sterile. The grandfather clock in the corner ticks loudly, echoes sickeningly. 

Nothing seems to be going quite right, your colours are wrong, the shape irregular. 

You’ve been working for around twenty minutes when Anselm finally talks. 

“Has my sister invited you yet?” He’s a little gruff, a huff in his voice.

“I’m sorry?” You look up from your work.

“Invited you… to her gathering tomorrow?” 

“Oh, erm,” You stumble over your words, the hard look he gives you is practically alien, so unlike his usual smiles. “Yes, she called me just as I got here.” 

Anselm’s expression hardens. For a moment you don’t think he’s going to speak again. “She wants you to meet David, her eldest.” 

You pause, not sure if you should reply, but you do anyway. “Yeah, erm, she mentioned it briefly… not that I really got a word in.” You laugh weakly, maybe he was annoyed at how long it was taking you to start on the painting? “Honestly, I was planning on working on your portrait, but I didn’t really get a chance to refuse the invitation.” 

He hums again, sighing and slumps down a little in his chair. “He got divorced last year, you know?” 

It takes you a full minute to realise he’s talking about David. 

“Clean break, his ex-wife was very reasonable. No children.” He sighs again, “A perfectly eligible bachelor.” He runs his hand through his hair, pushing his curls in a completely different direction. 

“Anselm,” you tut, briefly forgetting the tense atmosphere, you walk around the easel and towards him, your hand outreached to fix his hair before you catch yourself. You stop, pausing right in front of him.

He looks up at you with soft eyes. “I apologise, my love. I did not mean to disrupt your work with my bad mood.” 

“It’s alright,” you smile slightly, “We all get annoyed.” 

“I’m sure you are rapturous in anger, all dragon fire and destruction.” 

You snort. “I am not.” 

He smiles and leans forward, pressing his head towards your hand. “I am sorry I disturbed my hair.” 

“It’s fine,” you lightly run your fingers through his curls, careful not to catch or pull as you move it back into its previous style. You motion for him to sit back so that you can position the last few rogue strands. You touch his hair for a little longer than absolutely necessary, swallowing as you press your fingers deeper. 

Anselm breathes in deeply, closing his eyes for a second and presses closer to your touch. 

“Is your nephew getting engaged or something, does Adela want me to paint a portrait of him too? Is that why I’m invited?” You ask innocently as you finally adjust his hair to your liking. You drop your hand to your side, a little disappointed that you no longer have a reason to touch him.

He opens his eyes slowly, staring up at you with a small frown. “My sweet, are you being serious, or pulling my leg? Because if it is the latter, I must say it is poor form considering my injury.” He motions a little dramatically to his brace.

“What?” You shrug a little, trying to work out what the hell he’s on about.

A small smile pulls at his lips when he realises you are being sincere. “My dear Adela wants to set you up with David, tomorrow is a formal introduction of sorts.” 

You pause, a little dumbfounded and Anselm chuckles. 

“My, the look on your face, you do not seem pleased.” He, however, is the happiest you have seen him all morning. 

“Here,” Anselm stands, “I’ll get my assistant to bring you a photo of David,” the tease in his voice is undeniable. “So that you may gaze about the face of your future beloved.” 

You finally find your voice. “Anselm.” You scold.

He grins wickedly, turning to face you fully. “I do love it when you use that tone with me, my sweet. Admonishing me does suit you.” He steps a fraction closer, raising his hand to lightly brush your cheek with the tips of his fingers. “I would happily die a thousand deaths to be under your thumb.” 

You swallow. “I don’t want you to die a thousand deaths… or be under my thumb.” You say softly, trying to say that you want him safe and alive and of his own strange but endearing free will.

But Anselm’s expression falls and he lowers his hand, mistaking your words for rejection. “I apologise again-”

Panic grips your chest and you blurt out the first thing that comes into your head. “But you can be under me if you want… as in…” Heat rolls over your face and you screw up your eyes. 

He laughs happily, stepping closer again so that you are chest to chest. He lightly traces your bottom lip with his thumb. “May I kiss you, my love?” 

With a giddy rush of energy, you lean forward and press your mouth to his in a soft, sweet kiss. Anselm moans happily, wrapping one arm around you. When you break the kiss he leans his forehead against yours. 

“Please forgive my foul mood earlier, I was… distressed.” 

“Why?” You tease, a sugar rush of happiness overtaking you. 

“Because I thought you were going to spend the rest of your days riding my nephew instead of me.” 

You snort, unable to stop yourself, and quickly cover your mouth with your hand. 

“Oh no, please, let me hear you laugh.” He gently takes your wrist and litters your cheeks with kisses, until you’re giggling uncontrollably. 

“Well, I’ll have to let Adela know there’s no need for me to go tomorrow.” 

Anselm tuts and raises an eyebrow, “I don’t think so, my love, I think it will be much more exciting to turn up on my arm and then proceed to make out messily on every available surface.” 

Thank you for reading!

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[thewhumpcaretaker]

Vincent tending to Chidi’s wounds when a medical professional isn’t near (with Vincent surprisingly having good knowledge on wounds) has always been on my mind and I thought to share with you ^_^

Anyways here’s a crappy screenshot of them because aaaaaaaaaaaaaa Chidi looks so small😭

Thank you so much for this ask! This ended up being almost chapter-length and I may use snippets of it in Those Who Have Something to Live For later on, oops!!

Also, small hearts for small chidi: 💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

-⚜- I Want to Be Next to You -⚜-

TW: gunshot wound, discussion of self-sacrifice

The first thing Chidi noticed was the red pouring out of Vincent’s shoulder. The second thing he noticed was how fast he was breathing.

He didn’t say anything, just staggered back against the wall with alarmingly wide eyes almost rolling back in his head - that look of unspeakable terror that Chidi had seen only a few times in his service with Vincent.

Chidi was across the balcony and in contact with Vincent almost instantly, gripping both arms to slow his fall and guide him to the ground. Their legs folded under them in unison, almost gracefully, like two swans landing on water. And they both felt they were drifting on something like water, suddenly floating above a terrible, murky depth. Their eyes were locked together, mirroring each other’s desperation. “C'est bon [It’s okay],” he whispered, low enough to reach only Vincent.

He didn’t respond at first. Then, as if without breathing, “Non, ce n'est pas le cas, ils putain… ils… [No it’s not, they fucking…they…]”

Chidi couldn’t contradict him. They had been ambushed. A particularly crucial client had insisted on meeting Vincent on “neutral ground,” without much backup, in a remote villa. As he had feared, it was merely a ruse to make an attempt on Vincent’s life. And Chidi hadn’t stopped it…they’d laid hands on Vincent, they’d put metal in him…

“Get a medic, and arrange evacuation,” he barked over his shoulder, without breaking eye contact with Vincent. Chidi was scary like this.

The ground around them was littered with bodies. Only two other guards survived – and the enemy was demolished. One of those guards hesitated. “What should I tell them about the deal, sir? And the ambush?”

“I don’t care! I’m going to stay with my ward! GO!” My ward. Vincent was the ward of all the bodyguards, but Chidi didn’t say our. No, at moments like this, it became clearer than ever that Vincent was his responsibility in a way that none of the other Myrmadons shared.

In another moment, they were alone.

“Chidi…” It wasn’t the beginning of a question, it was an inarticulate plea. Vincent’s head was lolling from one side to the other against the wall, in danger of knocking against it from how badly he was shaking.

“Je suis là. [I’m here.]” He lowered him the rest of the way down, not against the hard marble, but into his lap, elevating the wounded shoulder above the rest of his body. Overwhelmed by the mixture of shock and human contact, he clenched his teeth and closed his eyes for half a second before staring desperately up at Chidi again. It was a magnetic look, impossible to break away from. Help me, it was saying. Chidi obeyed.

“Je vais vous attacher un garrot maintenant, monsieur. Cela signifie que je vais attacher un morceau de tissu autour de votre épaule. Cela pourrait faire mal mais je vais essayer d’être rapide. [I’m going to tie you a tourniquet now, sir. This means I’m going to tie a piece of cloth around your shoulder. It might hurt but I’ll try to be quick.]” For once, he was the one chattering away, trying to fill the silence, to keep Vincent’s mind from running away with him. He kept his breathing as steady as he could, and his face expressionless. He had to be the rock right now, something to hold onto.

He took off his suitcoat and then ripped off his shirt sleeve from underneath, tying it around Vincent’s shoulder. As it squeezed the muscles around the wound, Vincent went even paler, panting in an effort not to scream. Even at a time like this, he didn’t want to look weak. It made Chidi’s heart twist. “Vous allez bien, monsieur. [You’re doing well, sir.]” He wasn’t. He was starting to hyperventilate, and it really concerned Chidi. “Peux-tu respirer avec moi, lentement ? De la même manière que je respire. [Can you breathe with me, slowly? The same way I’m breathing.]”

The Marquis struggled for a moment, staring at Chidi’s chest. He saw another wave of fear rise up behind Vincent’s eyes as he lost control. “Je – je ne peux pas – [I – I can’t – ]”

“Ce n'est pas grave alors. Continuez simplement d’essayer et concentrez-vous sur ma voix. Je vais faire pression sur toi pour arrêter le saignement maintenant, d'accord ? Et je continuerai à faire ça jusqu’à ce que l’aide arrive. [That’s okay then. Just keep trying and focus on my voice. I’m going to press on you to stop the bleeding now, okay? And I’ll keep doing that until help comes.]” Chidi did his best not to talk too fast, not to let the panic affect his voice. He felt like breaking down – seeing Vincent like this was too much. But he had to be reassuring for him.

“…d’accord… ça prend combien de temps? […okay…how long with that take?]”

“Je ne sais pas, monsieur. Pas longtemps. [I don’t know, sir. Not long.]” He lowered his hands over the wound and pressed down as hard as he could. Vincent made an awful, strangled sound. Even through the pressure, Chidi could feel how badly he was shivering. “Attendez, faisons ça aussi. [Wait, let’s do this too.]” He took his hands off the wound long enough to throw his coat over Vincent’s chest, and then pressed down again. Vincent snuggled involuntarily into the warmth, the shivering subsiding a little. After the initial pain of Chidi’s strength against his shoulder again, he relaxed into it. Then, following a long moment of hesitance, his hand rested on top of Chidi’s.

“Merci.” He stroked along Chidi’s hand just the way he would if they were just resting in bed together after making love.

“Bien sûr. [Of course.]”

His eyes were closed again and suddenly Chidi worried he might lose consciousness.

“Hé, pouvez-vous continuer à me regarder monsieur ? Reste éveillé s'il te plait. [Hey, can you keep looking at me sir? Stay awake please.]”

Vincent wrenched his eyelids open with what seemed a very great effort. “Parlez-moi alors. [Talk to me then.]” It was an order, but spoken so quietly, so vulnerably.

“D’accord.” Chidi thought for a moment. “Tu sais, j'ai appris la médecine de campagne pour toi. J'ai pris des cours le soir, pendant mon temps libre. Parce que si jamais tu étais bloqué comme ça, je voulais être sûr de pouvoir t'aider. [You know, I learned field medicine for you. I took lessons in the evenings, during my leisure time. Because if you were ever stranded like this, I wanted to make sure I could help you.]”

Vincent swallowed. “Je ne le savais pas. Je…te remercie. [I didn’t know that. I…thank you.]” His hand was stroking idly against Chidi’s, with deep affection, soothing both himself and his lover at once. He was getting into that zoned out space that he entered sometimes, when he was hurt or very sick. A space that forced his deeply defended heart to open a little.

“Ce n'était pas un problème, monsieur. Je suis content de l’avoir fait. [It was no trouble, sir. I’m glad I did.]”

“Je suis… je suis content que tu sois là. Peut-être… peut-être que je dramatise mais… [I’m…I’m glad you’re here. Maybe…maybe I’m being dramatic but…]” He went silent for a long time, so long that Chidi almost thought he was passing out. But he wasn’t. “Si je meurs, je veux qu'il soit à côté de toi. [If I die, I want it be next to you.]”

Chidi’s throat tightened. He looked away at the sunset, waves of pink and gold crashing down over jagged mountains. But it wasn’t half as beautiful as Vincent, so he looked back. “Si je meurs, je veux que ce soit pour vous, monsieur. Mais je préfère que nous vivions tous les deux. [If I die, I want it to be for you, sir. But I’d rather we both live.]”

Vincent didn’t answer for a long time, and when he did, it was in a rush, with his voice dropping quieter and quieter until Chidi could barely hear him.  “Je préfère ça aussi, ces jours-ci. Il y a quelques instants, quand on m'a tiré dessus, j'ai réalisé que… Pour une fois, je n'avais pas peur parce que j'étais seule, mais parce que je voulais continuer à vivre. Je veux être à côté de toi. [I’d rather that too, these days. A few moments ago, when I was shot, I realized that…For once, I wasn’t scared because I was alone, but because I want to keep living. I want to be next to you.]”

You will. You always will. “Je serai toujours à vos côtés, monsieur. [I will always be by your side, sir.]” Chidi wrapped himself around Vincent’s body, giving him all of his warmth, all of his presence, all of himself. For life.

[bunnylove369]

Hii! May I request a bayverse Raphael x reader? Maybe smth with reader being mutated, but rather than physical changes, she has telekinesis or something like pyrokenesis? Tysm!!

Bayverse Raphael x Mutated Reader

Just Like Me

Here you go my love! This was rushed because I had a meeting today, and honestly it kinda sucks. I’m sorry I couldn’t do you justice. I hope you enjoyed anyways anyway!💕💕💕

Warnings: Fluff, slightly suggestive, Raphael is an asshole, size kink, lovey-dovey, etc…

Story Under Cut

———————————————————————

Raphael had always felt alone. Sure, he had his brothers, but he kept most things and problems to himself, unlike his brothers who can express their feelings freely, he just hates being vulnerable, but you changed that.

When you came along, with your cute little mutated self, he felt almost understood, like he wasn’t the only mutated being in the world anymore.

He is super insecure, he hates himself for a lot of things, but the thing he is most insecure about is his looks, and his temper. He looses his temper and had an attitude, sometimes unknowingly, and it often times pushes people away from him. And he could never forgive himself if he ended up pushing you away too.

You are literally his everything, his life, his love, his very reason for breathing. It is also no surprise that Raphael is very suicidal. He hates his life for his mutation, and he doesn’t know how to process his feelings and emotions, but you are there to help with that.

When you first found out about your powers, you were shocked to the core. You had gotten caught in an electromagnetic storm, the unrealistic energy from the powerful typhoon shocking your body with lightening, and knocking you out for days.

When you awoke you were inside of an odd place, lying on an operating table. Suddenly, a huge turtle with a purple bandanna around his eyes was in your face. “Testing, testing! Can you hear me?” A nerdy voice rang out, the appearance of the mutated turtle scaring you shitless as you shot up, knocking the turtle in the head as you tried to get away.

When you were acting on your getaway, you ran into a huge chest? Plastron? Thing? When you looked up, you were met with the most beautiful, green eyes you had ever seen. This turtle was wearing a red bandana around his eyes, as he looked down at you menacingly, you couldn’t move. You were completely mesmerized by this being, his muscles rippling as he adjusted his arms to cross over his chest.

“Where do you think you’re going?” His voice boomed. God, it was so deep and his voice sent chills down your spine as you just stared at him in pure awe. Then you snapped yourself out of your trance as you realized that you needed to get out of that place as soon as possible. You gathered up all your strength as you got into your fighting stance, your fists in front of your face, as you stood with your feet shoulder length apart and diagonal to your body. Then all of a sudden your hands started to glow, almost blinding you as you shot electricity out of your body and into the turtle as he fainted, you took your chance to escape, the other turtles yelling for you to come back, and yelling for their brother.

You made your escape through the manhole cover and ran to your apartment. “God, that was so fucking close,” you thought.

Meanwhile, down in the lair Raphael had woken up, his brother Donatello taking care of his wound as Master Splinter walked in. “What happened here?” He boomed, his New York and Japanese accents mixing as he walked over to the turtles. “She escaped, master.” Leonardo said, his worry written all over his face. “Go! Find the girl! Bring her here!” He said, his face contorted in anger and concern. “Don’t worry, no one saw us!” Michelangelo had chimed in, “No, it’s not you that I’m worried about, it’s the girl! She is in grave danger!” Master Splinter added.

And so with that they were sent to find you and bring you back safely, before the clan found you and kidnapped you.

Sorry guys, this sucked because it was rushed. I hope you enjoyed anyways! Part two upon request!💕💕💕

[hoshiputa]

Cyber

💌 woozi x female reader

📩 Request: Phone sex with Woozi.

cw: nsfw, smut, established relationship, pet names (babygirl, princess, etc), masturbation, exhibitionism

word count: 1.2k

It was past midnight when your phone started ringing. You grabbed as fast as you could, because you already knew who it was.

Lee Jihoon. Your beloved, hard working, super famous boyfriend.

He usually called at that time when he was at the studio, because that was when he had a break. The only difference today was that it was a video call instead of the usual late night voice calls.

“Hi, babe!”

“Hello.”

Jihoon immediately smiled at you through the screen, the well known blue lightning of his studio making him look as beautiful as ever. His phone was set at the perfect angle, showing off his muscled arms.

“What's with the video call?” You asked. “Not that I'm complaining.”

It was always good to see him, of course. Especially when he had been away for days like this, working day and night to produce another masterpiece for his group, unable to come back home for you.

“I wanted to see your face,” he said softly.

“Aww, I miss you!”

You rolled around in your bed, kicking your feet in the air like the main character of a teenage movie talking to their crush for the first time.

“What are you doing? Did you eat?” Jihoon asked.

“I was just watching some Netflix. And yes, I had dinner. What about you?”

He sighed, running his fingers through his hair.

“I ate instant noodles,” he confessed.

“Lee Jihoon! What did I tell you?!”

“It was just this time. Please forgive me.”

Staring at your boyfriend through your phone screen, you felt your heart ache. You hadn't seen each other in a week and it was starting to make you feel sad.

“And how was your day?” You asked him.

“It was nice… I just stayed here for the most part of it.”

Jihoon giggled, like being trapped in a music studio for the whole week wasn't a complete nightmare like most people thought

“You're the only person I know who doesn't complain about work.”

“What can I say? I like what I do.”

Jihoon leaned against his chair, pushing it back a little just so the screen could show up from his thighs to his face. It was unusual, because normally his video calls were filled with awkward close ups of his face.

“Sir, are you trying to seduce me?!”

Jihoon giggled, the kind of laugh he let out every time he did have something up his sleeve.

“Actually, I have something to show you.”

“What is it?”

Not even intense therapy through the twenty years of your life would've prepared you to watch your boyfriend pull out his cock on camera. Your jaw dropped at the sight, his length standing up hard and nice as he smirked at you through the screen.

“What— Jihoon! What?”

You had no words, so you just kept staring at the screen. Mouth watering, body heat going up, thighs clenching as you sat up on your bed.

“I've been missing you,” he said, hands wrapping around his length. “This much.”

“Oh, God.”

You rolled around on your bed, screaming into your pillow as you held tight against your phone.

“I was jerking off to one of your pictures, and then I thought… We could make it better.”

There was this thing. With Jihoon's busy schedules and all of the time you two had to spend away from each other, both of you agreed to share and save each other's nudes.

“I can't stop staring at your dick.”

You chuckled awkwardly, being washed over by the memories of Jihoon on top of you, his cock stretching you out and hitting just right. It wasn't fair you had to be away from him.

“So… Can you take your clothes off for me?”

You weren't the exhibitionist type. To be honest, you weren't any type before Jihoon — just some boring random girl. Then he came into your life and showed you his ways, and now you were addicted. So you didn't think twice before ripping your clothes off so fast it made Jihoon giggle.

Laying on bed, you lifted up your phone, showing off your naked body for him.

“Fuck, you're so hot,” Jihoon said, hand slightly stroking his dick.

It wasn't just missing him. And it wasn't just desire and lust. You actually yearned for him. Not only his body, but hearing those nice words coming straight out of his mouth and being whispered to your ears, his soft hands touching all over your body, wrapping around your neck.

“I miss you so much,” you whined.

“I miss you too, babygirl,” he sighed. “I wish I could be there to spread you out and fuck you senseless.”

“Shit, don't say that.”

“Why? Am I making you wet?”

For someone who wasn't into exhibitionism, you for sure felt the urge to touch yourself to make Jihoon know how much you missed him. And it was sinful, to say the least. To wrap your fingers around your hardened nipples and watch Jihoon touch his hardened dick, biting his lip as you showed off like you were his favorite movie star.

“Fuck, you know how much I love those tits, right?” He asked, voice hoarse.

Of course you knew it. You knew it because every time Jihoon got you naked, he sucked on your nipples like his life depended on it. And oh, how you missed his mouth on your skin.

“What about spreading your legs for me? Will you show me your cunt?”

Hearing Jihoon asking so nicely and calmly for something so dirty made you gasp softly, reminiscing all of the times it was his hands spreading your legs open for him to dive into your wet pussy and suck on your juices like it was his favorite drink. When you opened your legs and leaned against your bed frame, Jihoon let out a soft moan as he pressed his thumb against the tip of his cock.

“That's right, you're such a good girl,” he smirked through the screen.

You watched as Jihoon started stroking his cock a little faster, biting his lip as he watched your naked body. It felt good to know he needed you that much, so much only a picture wasn't enough. Your head ran over all of the times you had his fingers inside you, playing with your cunt just to tease you. All of the times he fucked deep into you as you begged for more.

“Are you touching yourself, babe? Let me see it,” he said, now slowly stroking his cock.

You hadn't noticed your free hand slipped in between your legs, because you were lost in thoughts about having Jihoon's muscled arms around you.

“I— Can't help it,” you said, slightly embarrassed.

“It's okay,” he smiled at you. “I'd love to watch you fuck yourself.”

You bit your lip at his words, fingers pressing against your clit as you moved them in circles. You thought about Jihoon and how he was perfect with his hands, his soft fingers plunging into your cunt.

“That's perfect, babe. We can do it together.”

Your head was spinning when you buried two of your fingers inside your wet cunt, the phone in your other hand showing Jihoon's eagerness as he stroked his cock faster.

“You want this cock?”

“Yes.”

You whined, gasping as your fingers fucked into your cunt. The only problem was they weren't as thick and good as Jihoon.

“I want your pussy too, babe,” he said. “You always take my cock so well.”

Jihoon gasped, biceps flexing as he moved his hand faster and faster around his leaking length.

“Yeah, I love your cock,” you moaned, fingers brushing against your own walls.

“Oh, my love, you look so good when you're desperate for my cock.”

Jihoon leaned back against his chair, hand working even faster and harder around his thick cock.

“I wish I could be coming all over you now,” he said.

Your toes curled and your legs clenched, the way Jihoon always painted you with his warm cum imprinted into your brain.

“I'd treat you just right, my princess,” he let out a gasp. “Let you ride my cock just how you like it.”

“Fuck, Jihoon!” You whined, back arching against your bed.

“Are you going to come? From watching me jerking off to you?”

“Yes!” You moaned.

It didn't take long. The mix of Jihoon's words, the sight of his beautiful cock and your fingers stretching you out, your orgasm hit so hard you rolled your eyes and let your phone fall from your hand. From the noises you heard from Jihoon, you were sure he had finally come too. Laying on your side, you grabbed the phone to watch a messed up Jihoon staring back at you. There were strands of his hair falling on his face and his breathing was just as hard as yours.

“That was so fucking hot,” he said in between sighs.

“Oh my God, I love you,” you confessed.

“I love you too, babe.”

[pamwritessometimes]

Fridays are for beer and heartbreak

Beau Arlen x Reader

Summary: Your favorite patron’s there to mend your broken heart.

A/N: It's just a little something I came up with the other day. If I'm being honest, I've never seen Big Sky, but I'm a simp for a man in cowboy boots, so... enjoy. 🤍

Warnings: none? oh, maybe that English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry for any mistakes.

It wasn’t necessarily a bad day. For what it's worth, it was a relatively nice, sunny day in Montana terms. Sure, my boyfriend declared the final break-up of our relationship, but to be frank, I was utterly unfazed by his antics; we’ve been in an on-again-off-again relationship for a year now. Not that it was serious in the first place. At least, not for him. And, if I’m honest with myself, maybe not for me either. So yeah, it was a relatively okay day.

Still, there’s something about hearing the finality in someone’s voice, even when it’s a toxic someone, that leaves you feeling a little hollow. The break-up itself wasn’t anything spectacular. Just another drawn-out argument that ended with him muttering some lame excuse before walking out. It had happened so many times before that I almost laughed when he slammed the door shut behind himself.

I was free. Really free. But that didn’t stop the ache sitting heavy in my chest.

I pushed through the rest of my day, the usual routine of prepping for the evening rush at the bar. A glance in the mirror told me I looked the part: western boots, worn-in jeans, a dark brown suede jacket I loved more than I probably should, and my hair pulled back just enough to stay out of my face but still look effortless. I should have felt like myself. I was supposed to be this confident, tough woman who didn’t need anyone to mess with her head, but tonight… I just didn’t have the energy to be that.

The bar was packed, as it usually was by this time of the night. The usual crowd was in full swing, with the sound of old country and blues tunes playing from the jukebox and the steady clink of bottles being set on tables. It was one of those oldie bars that still had that charming and rustic atmosphere, like time stilled between its four walls. That night, I stayed behind the counter more than I usually did, letting the other servers handle most of the tables. I wasn’t in the mood to make small talk or listen to the same old stories I’d heard a thousand times. I didn't have the energy for that either.

Then, Beau walked in. Right on schedule.

He had this easy confidence about him, something I noticed the first time he came in months ago. It was in the way he held himself, like he could command a room without trying, but somehow never made a big deal about it. Tall, broad shoulders, chestnut hair that always looked like he just ran a hand through it after a long shift. And those eyes, green, like the pines up in the mountains after the rain.

He always came in around this time on Fridays, right after his shift ended. Sheriff of Helena by day, patron at my bar by night. There was something comforting about the routine of it. Maybe because he was the closest thing I had to a friend here, even though we were more like two people who enjoyed each other’s company but kept everything else at arm’s length. Still, there was always something unspoken between us, something that hung in the air when he sat down at the bar.

Beau slid onto the barstool closest to me, the one he always sat at, and gave me a smile that eased the ache I’d been feeling all damn day.

“Evening” he said in that slow, easy drawl of his, laying his hat on the counter. “How’s it going, darling?”

I forced a smile, pulling a cold beer from behind the bar and sliding it across to him without asking. He always ordered the same thing, and I always had it ready for him.

“Same as always” I replied, but even I could hear the flatness in my voice.

His eyes narrowed a little as he studied me, and I could feel his gaze linger on my slight but easily visible frown. He had a way of seeing through me like he could tell when something was off even before I said anything. 

“You sure about that?” His voice was anything but pushing. It was the way he asked, like he already knew the answer but was giving me a chance to speak first.

I glanced away, grabbing a towel and pretending to wipe down the already squeaky clean countertop. “I’m fine. It’s nothing. Just… had one of those days, you know.”

Beau took a long sip of his beer, but he didn’t take his eyes off me. “Doesn’t seem like nothing.”

I let out a breath and leaned on the bar, dropping the towel and meeting his gaze.

“He broke up with me. For real this time.” I hadn’t planned on saying it, but the words came out before I could stop them.

He raised an eyebrow, but there wasn’t any hint of surprise in his face. It’s like he not only knew it was going to happen, but anticipated it too. “You mean, finally?”

I couldn’t help but laugh, a short yet sharp sound that felt good coming out. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

Beau didn’t say anything right away. He just sat there, watching me with those damn eyes that made it hard to keep things light. I couldn’t keep anything light with him. Not now, not ever.

There was something deeper there tonight, something that had always simmered between us but felt more dangerous now, like we were toeing a line neither of us had been willing to cross before. 

“You good with that?” His voice was softer now, the edges so much gentler, and it felt like a real, genuine question, not just some small talk or polite chitchat.

“Honestly?” I asked with a sigh ”I’m better off. I know that. But… it still stings, you know?”

Beau nodded, and something flickered in his expression, something almost protective. His gaze softened matching his voice. “You deserve so much better than what he was giving you, darling.”

His words hung in the air between us, heavy with underlying meanings. I knew what he meant. I knew he wasn’t just talking about my ex, and that’s when the tension snapped into something sharper, something deeper. I felt it in the way he was looking at me now, not as the bartender he chatted with every Friday, but as someone he cared about. But could that be the truth?

Maybe I wasn’t just his bartender either. Maybe we’d been dancing around this for too long. I leaned in slightly, not even realizing I was doing it until I saw his gaze drop to my lips. The bar around us seemed to fade, the noise, the people...none of it mattered in that moment. It was just me and Beau and the weight of everything unsaid between us thick and obvious in the air. 

“You gonna be alright?” he asked finally, and I couldn't help but notice how his voice became an octave lower... intimate in a way that sent a shiver down my spine.

“I think so” I whispered.

But my heart was pounding, not from the breakup, but from the way he was looking at me. Like maybe, just maybe, he’d been waiting for this moment as long as I had.

It wasn’t necessarily a bad day.

Thanks for reading! Have a nice day, loves. 🤍

[writingjourney]

I heard that you’re the best person to come to for Secondo HCs. How do you think he would react if he found out his love interest was being bullied by other Siblings?

i am thrilled that that is now my reputation haha, bless!!!

now, i think he would be incredibly upset because a) bullying goes against the very nature and principles of their church that he greatly values (mutual respect, freedom, acceptance, appreciating everyone's individuality) and b) he is incredibly protective of those who mean a lot to him, guard dog type shit.

he would secretly be hurt that you didn't confide in him (assuming you mean he finds out by witnessing one such event or perhaps finding you really upset), and yes, of course, you thought he had more important things to take care of and besides, it wasn't even that bad and– no, he'd stop you right there. if you have managed to sneak into his heart then nothing in the world would ever be more important to him (hard as it is for him to admit it) and the one thing he needs is for you to trust him, implicitely (and yes, he needs that to actually pursue you as well, something he fully plans on doing).

i imagine if it were anyone else he would be equally upset about the fact that some members of his flock are behaving in such a way but because it's you this has become a matter for papa himself, and while i personally don't think secondo is horribly impulsive or a choleric he'd definitely struggle to keep his anger in check this time. those bullies will have to thank him that he doesn't just straight up feed them to the ghouls because the talk he'll have with them as well as the expression he'll meet them with is nothing short of whithering and actually soul-destroying.

what is more important though is how you feel because exacting revenge is one thing but the damage has already been done and he knows what it can do to a person, he's got a bully for a father after all who never had a kind word to spare. he's seen it in copia, he's seen it in terzo (and he's experienced it himself, not that he'd ever consider himself a victim of any sort). now, of course, the ministry is a place where they are well-equipped to deal with the psychological side of such things, they're a place for those who don't fit anywhere else.

but outside of that, this might just be the wake up call he needed to actually act on his feelings. again, guard dog insticts, you are his now and how could he ever be so blind as to miss that something was wrong? the reason is because he's been a coward so far who kept you at arm's length instead of confronting his feelings. prepare for him to not let you out of his sight for a long time and yes, you can assure him you're fine, no worries, he won't baby you as much he'll simply spoil you with nice dinners and dates and flowers and veeery distracting touches that'll slowly make sure that you are comfortable and secure in his presence. that's how he knows he can be the man you need and make sure whatever traces the bullying left on your self-esteem will slowly be mended.

[eleonoraalbright]

I need some Peter Maximoff fluff😭🤚

Peter Maximoff x Asexual!reader that’s scared Peter will leave them over it

Pairing: Peter Maximoff x Asexual!Reader

Excerpt: Peter laid a hand on your shoulder to comfort you, but you shied away from his touch. Withdrawing his hand, he had to strain his ears to hear your next words. “Peter…” You gulped and seemed to be steeling yourself. “I’m asexual.”

A/N: I did some research and on Tumblr, one user said that asexuality is a spectrum; some asexuals are sex-repulsed and some love it. The reader in this fic is a sex-repulsed asexual.

Peter Maximoff wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer, but even he could tell something was troubling you. It started a week ago in his mom's basement on a peaceful Sunday afternoon. You were both relaxing by watching a movie that was playing on the TV. 

Technically you were watching the flick while he was racing in and out of the house and around the city, but he popped in often enough to keep up with the movie and show off his new knick-knacks to you. He had just come back from collecting an original Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots free of charge when he saw you rushing up the stairs in a hurry. 

He asked, “Hey, where’re you going?”

You froze as if you had been caught doing something wrong. “I—um—forgot I had some other plans today and I don’t wanna flake on them. Sorry, Peter, I’ll see you later.” You brushed past him without another glance and left. 

In the end, Peter shrugged it off. The excuse was pretty vague, but maybe you had a lot on your mind at the moment and just wanted a bit of time alone. Oh well, he’ll see you tomorrow anyway. He ran to his room and unboxed his game before rushing off again to find more cool loot.

Turns out Peter didn’t see you the following day, or at least he saw less of you than he would’ve liked. He showed up at your door to see if you wanted to hit the arcade and the comic shops. To his disappointment, you refused. You explained that there were extra chores that needed to be done and that they would take all day. He offered to help, but you declined. 

On Tuesday, you couldn’t go out with him because relatives were coming to visit and your family wanted you to stay. On Wednesday, Peter began to grow suspicious. When he popped over to your place, you said that you had been grounded for the next month. Peter didn’t believe you. Being grounded had never stopped you from hanging out with him before, so why should it now?

The obvious answer was that you didn’t want to see him. But why was that? Each time you had seen him since Sunday you avoided his gaze and kept him at arm's length. What had happened that could have caused this change in you? Peter mulled over the possibilities in his mind as he played ping pong with himself.

He recounted the things he talked about, but couldn’t think of an instance where he was careless with his words. Unless the playful argument about whether The Addams Family or The Munsters was the better show had not been as playful as Peter thought it had. Nah, that couldn’t be it. Peter stopped dead in his tracks. 

Had he forgotten yours and his anniversary? He checked the calendar nailed to the wall where you had written down important dates he should remember. He let out a sigh of relief when he saw it was in three months. Phew, so it couldn’t have been that. But then what was it! The mystery was driving Peter up the wall. 

All he wanted to do was see you! After a few minutes, he decided what course of action to take. He zipped to the flower shop and got a colorful bouquet. He dropped by the candy shop and procured a careful selection of all your favorite sweets and won a little stuffed orangutan from a claw machine. With this assortment of gifts, he raced over to your house and into your bedroom. 

You were sitting on your bed, thumbing through a magazine, and jumped when he made his presence known by pushing the flowers, the candies, and the stuffie onto your lap. He said, “I’m sorry for whatever I did. I can’t figure it out, but I’m really sorry. Can we talk again? What’s wrong?”

Setting his presents aside, you brought your knees up to your chest and hugged them. You replied in a quiet voice, “You shouldn’t be here, Peter.”

“C’mon, what’s the matter?” He crouched down next to the bed, a lop-sided grin on his face. “Did aliens abduct you?” He joked, hoping humor would help you open up. 

Tears gathered in the corners of your eyes and you began to rock back and forth. You covered your face with your hands and whispered, “I think we should break up.” Peter was shocked, nothing could have prepared him for that statement. You continued speaking, “I-I haven’t been entirely honest with you.” Tears streamed down your cheeks and a sob escaped your lips. “I didn't think it’d be a big deal, but things are getting serious and I can’t hold it in any longer.”

Peter laid a hand on your shoulder to comfort you, but you shied away from his touch. Withdrawing his hand, he had to strain his ears to hear your next words. “Peter…” You gulped and seemed to be steeling yourself. “I’m asexual.”

Peter’s brow furrowed. He had heard that term before. Using his powers, he ran to the library and retrieved a biology textbook. He read page after page until he finally found his answer. He returned to your bedroom and read aloud, “You have the capability to reproduce without exchanging genetic information with another organism through sex? Are you a mu–”

“No, no! Not that type of asexual!” You closed your eyes and shook your head. “It means that I don’t experience sexual attraction. My brain isn’t hardwired that way—I don’t have those sexual desires or feelings that most people have—it’s not a part of who I am. I just don’t wanna have sex.”

Still confused, Peter processed this information. “Okay, but what does this have to do with us breaking up?”

You stared slack jawed at him, dumbfounded at his question. “You mean y-you don’t care. You don’t want to break up?”

“No, of course not! Why would I?” Peter’s confusion grew when you burst into tears. You started crying and buried your face into your pillow. Peter rubbed your back and tried his best to provide support. “Babe?”

You sat up and threw your arms around him and hugged him as tightly as you were able. You gasped between sobs, “I was s-so scared you’d leave me over it! I didn’t wanna lose you. I was gonna break it off to save you the trouble.” 

Peter hugged you with equal fervor and stroked your hair. He felt terrible. It must’ve been a horrible week for you, convinced that he’d wouldn’t want to be with you anymore. He pressed a kiss to your temple and cupped your chin as he locked eyes with you. “I’d never leave you. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” 

He didn’t know how long you two remained in that embrace and didn’t care. He would sit here all night if it made you feel better. You wiped away your tears, saying, “Wanna go get some pizza to celebrate?”

“And what are we celebrating exactly?”

“Not breaking up and the fact I got that confession off my chest. I feel a million times lighter now.”

“I like the way you think, babe.” With the problem settled, he sped you and himself to the nearest pizza parlor to have a delicious dinner and revel in each other’s company.

[yallthemwitches]

The Best Fun

Super silly, short fic for @jilytoberfest Day 6: Food disasters

Because we all know Sirius would be the one to experiment with muggle drugs~ AO3 link here!

“Prongs—don’t be angry.”

Peter stood with his back against the Fat Lady who screamed at him to be unhanded. His arms were outstretched but his face was riddled with absolute fear. 

“Can’t say I love hearing that from you, Wormy.”

If Peter had been sent to ward him off, that meant that the other two marauders must be shit deep in whatever laid beyond the portrait hole. Usually, the prospect of something to spice up his evening would perk his spirits, but tonight was a rare exception. 

He had been forced to do patrols with Chloe Sparrow due to the fact that she had been favoring her fellow Slytherins during her rounds. Although it had been his idea, it didn’t help that it took away precious time patrolling with Lily. Then, as he had come to find out, it also meant the night would be filled with a strange mixture of semi racist remarks and what James could only refer to as a grotesque version of flirting, ending in Chloe being sent back to her dorms before she could smack his arse another time. 

So in short, James’ bullshit threshold was reaching max capacity. 

“So—do you just want to tell me or do I need to pretend to struggle past you…”

Peter started to look visibly sweaty and backed off of the Fat Lady who, now free from her smothering, chirped insults under her breath. 

“Uhm. So before I say anything, you should know Lily wanted to, so—”

“Peter.” 

James was losing patience fast. He had expected the lads to have done something, sure, but Lily was a development he wasn’t ready for. From his tone alone, it all came tumbling out of Peter like a single word.

”Pads made some stuff.” 

“What kind of stuff?”

Peter’s eyes shifted. “Muggle stuff—said something about how that band,The Beagles or whatever, used it to—”

James walked up to his mate who jumped out of the way before he could even attempt to push through. 

Trudging through the portrait hole, Peter kept fast on his feet, babbling excuses like a mosquito hovering to feed.

“Again! She wanted to! Even helped a bit! Moony didn’t stop them!”

A voice drawled out from the center of the common room. “Thanks for ratting me out Wormy.” 

Remus laid reclined on the length of the couch, book in one hand while a cigarette hung from his lips. 

James took stock of the room. The only thing that looked remotely out of place was a tray of what looked like a dessert which had been ravenously attacked. A knife balanced on the baking tray. 

“So where are they?” 

Without any further elaboration Lupin tilted his head towards the fireplace and James took the two steps needed to get enough clearance to see over onto the ground. Lily was curled up in a ball, eyes closed and head resting on the stomach of a giant black dog, both completely asleep.

“Explain.” He used his head boy voice, but Remus only laughed. 

“Sirius thought it would be a scream to make pot brownies—should have seen them about an hour ago—never seen two people hug and dance around so much in my life.”

Peter, who was still standing at the entrance of the portrait hole, pipped up in a quivering voice. “It was quite nice actually—Lily was so affectionate and—”

“And you didn’t call me? Didn’t think that I wanted to come try muggle drug food too?”

James looked down at his sleeping girlfriend who buried her nose into Sirius’ stomach, hands curling around the fur, blissfully unaware that the animal she was laying on could be anything other than a dog. 

“You all knew I’ve always wanted to do this, Moony! Honestly, I’m hurt!”

“Sorry mate, it just happened.”

James crouched down next to Lily’s sleeping form, brushing some of her hair from her face. At his touch, her eyes blinked open, a brilliant glassy green, slightly bloodshot, looked up at him.

“Oh Baby! You’re back!” She lifted up and threw her arms around his neck, nuzzling her nose into his collar. 

“Oh I just love you! Wow, you smell so good!” 

Every word from her mouth sounded breathy and light, like the world was one big cloud with her on it. From behind him, Peter muttered: “See? I quite like her stoned” and Lupin just snorted in response.

“Have you met this dog? I love this dog.” She turned to wrap her arms back around a still sleeping Sirius, but James caught her, pulling her back into him. 

“I have met the dog—that's ok, we can leave him alone now.” James cradled her to his chest and she melted into him, completely forgetting Sirius despite her comment seconds ago.

“I can see you had some fun tonight.” 

She didn’t respond, rather looking up into his eyes before bursting into a laugh, grabbing both sides of his face and smashing their foreheads together. 

“Brilliant fun. The best fun. But not as fun as you. I missed you.”

It was hard to feel upset about that. James scooped under her legs and carried her like a child over to the staircase which led up to the dorms. Laughter tumbled out of her mouth before becoming preoccupied with kissing his neck in quick, frantic pecks. 

“I’m going to get her to bed before she decides she loves someone else—” Lily just squealed, wrapping her hands tighter around his neck in an attempt to get him to kiss her.

“If Sirius wakes up, tell him I’ll give him a running head start in the morning before I beat the shit out of him–.”

Remus didn’t look up from his book, eyebrows raised.

“Awfully kind of you Prongs.”

James started to climb the steps, Lily alternating between laughter and proclamations of love.

“Well–It’s the least I could do to repay him.”