#tentatively-positive-3
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Stop bringing your own couch just so you can crash here (Patreon)
#Doodles#Wander Over Yonder#Commander Peepers#Emperor Awesome#Invited himself over and is making a nuisance of himself lol#I guess in a timeline where he and Peepers are at least tentative friends - specific-context friends only-once-work-is-done friends lol#I guess it could also be considered Eyesome lol very lightly#He's not done with his work Awesome! Leave him be!#No he's bored for real and he wants attention lol#Peepers is soldering something - I do love how he refuses to take off his helmet for anything work-related lol#Awesome only intended to bother him enough to get attention but Peepers is Not in the mood try again later#He got him talking and thought that was enough! Nope!#It's really that kind of thing of their mismatch that gets me about their dynamic ah ♪#Awesome's ''Any attention is good attention'' and Peepers' need for things to be done a certain way without compromise#Even if he overall would have positive feelings towards Awesome by this point getting in his way to his ends is unforgivable!#He's not gentle with Anyone not even Hater on that front :D Awesome gets to learn that up close and personal!#He doesn't get his way just 'cause anymore! He can't sway Peeps just by flaunting and he doesn't want to (? :3c) intimidate him into play#Peepers on the other hand not at all shy about voicing his displeasure and it's surprising because?? Awesome not getting what he wants??#He is still only as effectual as he is impressive haha - I love him but he's not exactly a formidable form#Tippy toes <3#Get this man some heels stat
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different is not ugly
#special thanks to thomisus spectabilis & tent caterpillars <3#chrysalising#txt#irl bugs#irl spiders#arachnophobia#spiders#caterpillar#spirituality#positivity#pink#spider lily
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hey rock!! it's para!! :D
I know jiu is a bit complicated and hard to know, but I was actually hoping for him to have at least a few slightly positive relationships with the other kids even if he doesn't allow himself to open up fully. I think jiu and yumi could be really good acquaintances? they're similar in a lot of ways (especially the repression and just playing along to whatever other people want for you, being their perfect pet/dress-up doll) and are both quite reserved, so I think their interactions would be rather harmonious even if not very substantial. jiu could also be quite amiable with yumi's girlfriend asahi! I think he'd view them in a very coworker-like manner, always at an arm's length distance but holds respect to them and trusts their capabilities more than some other people.
I'd like to know what yumi thinks of jiu, if that's okay? I love thinking about the best buddies ever kio and asuka, but I also thought it'd be nice if jiu had another person in the garden he could associate with from time to time (for the rare and brief moments he allows himself to be in someone's company).
HIHIHIHIHIHI PARA!! i hope you are doing well! make sure to get lots of rest and take care of yourself okay >:0 i love you
I actually really love the idea of Jiu and Yumi having a cordial, amiable relationship, even if they're not exactly friends. They are quite similar, as you said with the reserved personalities and the dress-up doll, people pleaser personalities (even if they might not want to act this way) but also I do think they have another thing in common, that they compare themselves to other people a lot, to their own detriments. Jiu seems like he compares himself to others, especially Kio, and it usually has a negative impact on him, tbh. Anyways, basically, yes that would be so awesome!! Jiu definitely deserves to have people he can hang around at the garden who don't actively bother him or somehow irritate him in another way haha
YUMI -> JIU
Yumi finds Jiu to be a refreshing presence at the garden, if only because she doesn't have to put on her saccharine, perfect persona around him. He's quiet and he doesn't expect her to perform a certain way, as long as she's not being obnoxious (which is a very rare occurrence), she can sit with him and just be in the presence of another person without it needing to be confusing or overwhelming. She doesn't feel the need to prove herself around him, for some reason, but she's not exactly about to look that gift horse in the mouth and question it. He's a quiet retreat when her other friends get too loud or too boisterous, and besides, no one ever thinks to look for her with him.
Jiu never treats her like a child or assumes that she is one, despite her appearance and her size. He never demands a performance from her or even asks her to talk. Jiu is the only person Yumi is physically able to cry around.
#yumi probably views jiu as a tentative friend but she would never say that for fear of offending him or fucking up what they have#gosh this was such a fun ask thank you so much Para i love an excuse to talk/expand upon Yumi and especially when Jiu is involved??#sign me up!!#alnst oc: yumi#alnst oc: jiu#i would draw something for this but im too comfy right now and my drawing ipad is not. accessible to me in the position im in#alnst ocs#alnst season 40#para <3
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Truly we can do both, we can acknowledge that this kid made a selfless choice while also condemning the same system that even allowed him to make it. if hearing that a child decided to help others when they should have been given the grace to be selfish makes you uncomfortable, great! it should! whats more, you should be upset that this young man is still working this table, and has a gofundme to assist with the costs, with updates as recent as last september and the homeless population where he is continues to rise.
if you want real actionable steps, contact your local politicians, not federal, im talking city officials, county officials, your school board. if you have the moxie, get in there and run, and if you dont- loudly support someone who can. donations and mutual aid can only work as a temporary measure, dont toss a dollar the same way you toss a ballot in and wipe your hands clean.
#sorry person i reblogged from. nothing against you i swear. im just tired of the positivity only thing.#thats not helping. thats how we got HERE.#shit needs to change and im dead tired of the pray it all works out mentality. im tired of centrists and liberals and leftists just#refusing to do any tangible work outside of what they need to feel morally superior. im dead tired of it all. im tired of seeing kids#leading the charge when they should be focused on school work and crushes. im tired of forcing these kids to grow up so damn fast.#thats what adults are for. thats what were here for. what good are we if we cant provide these kids with better lives.#get involved. mentor a kid. make flyers. fuck i know this is the mentally ill site but we can do shit about this#even if its tiny and all you can do is design prints for t shirts thats fucking something.#better than passing the same fucking 2 dollars around only to need to ask for it back in a week.#again sorry person im reblogging from i have fucking feelings about this and they leaked out. keep being positive. we do need that.#but we also need angry motherfuckers who will stand outside of city hall for 3 hours to talk to some guy to get cops to stop stealing#shit from homeless tents while the person living in it is at work TRYING to stop being homeless.
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♡ The Bad Timeline Brothers
Send ♡ to see what my muse thinks of yours (status — accepting!)
●●●●● | AESTHETIC ●●○○○ | AFFECTION ●●●●○ | INTEREST ●●●●● | LOYALTY ●●○○○ | TRUST
LOW | ●●●●● | HIGH
#( LETTERS TO US; ASK. )#scumbag-the-hedgehog#i'm changing attraction to aesthetic on all of these bc it would be weird otherwise#well... this is a very interesting look into chronos' psyche.#he doesn't trust easy but if you're a variant/duplicate of sonic he's loyal basically by default#he's also not very affectionate off the bat; especially wouldn't be towards scourge at first glance because he's unsure that his new boss-#-would be particularly Appreciative Of That. but if chronos ever became more like an actual brother to him he'd be more inclined-#to be sweet with him :3#already said this but scourge is his gender envy. hence the full aesthetic score. and interest...#it would be the full five ticks but he's not positive if he's gonna be dumped early on so there's a level of tentative hesitation towards-#-getting fully invested right now.#you got my discord boo feel free to hmu if u ever wanna talk about these 2 because /gen/srs i have so many brainworms for them.
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seeing you like the post of me complaiig at the idea of this...... thing being a permanet or longtime fixture in my mind while being pressured to change my pfp to this was rlly rlly funny
;;;; imma be so real it was a "hang in there, buddy!" like but glad you found some enjoyment from it???
#This is a tentative positive response#Like yes I'm happy you found enjoyment from my weird ass like but also. Man hope I didn't insult you by accident <3#Also it's a good PFP. jumpscared the hell out of me tho when I checked dash
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christmas with simon riley (happy holidays <3)
simon had never spent christmas with anyone before. his home situation growing up was never the best, and he never had a good enough relationship to stick around to during the holidays.
despite this, simon is the best gift giver, and you're honestly surprised this is his first time celebrating the holiday.
he's extremely attentive, some things he got you were things you had completely forgotten about, but he didn't forget. he's the type to note down everything that had interested you throughout the year, and if not given for your birthday, it was going under the tree (the one he insisted he'd chop down himself).
and he didn't expect anything in return, actually he insisted that you didn't get him a gift because "already got wot'i want," he'd shrug, telling you that you're all he needed, and it was true. he was perfectly content with all that he had.
but come christmas morning, after breakfast was in the oven and wrapping paper scattering the floors, there was only one gift left, and it didn't have your name on it.
simon's brows furrowed as he eyed the little wrapped box behind your back, pink wrapping paper and a white frilly bow with a skull sticker stuck to the box. undoubtedly for him.
your hands were clammy, handing over the small box that dwarfed in his tentative hands. he took it, but not without a small murmur, "told'ya not t'get me anythin', love."
you only shushed him as he gently tore the wrapping, eyes boring into the plain, grey box before he slid the top off. you were anxiously bouncing on your feet for his reaction, watching the way he froze as his eyes locked on the contents of the little box.
you fiddled with your hands, you couldn't see his reaction because of the way his head was tilted down, and it wasn't until you sat next to him did you see stray tears streaming from your eyes.
"si...?" you asked quietly. you weren't sure how he would react, you had discussed it before, but the conversation would always drop.
he turned to you, eyes glossed over with the corners of his lips upturned, wrapping his arms tightly around you. clenched fists against your back, and in one of them, the positive pregnancy test you gifted him.
#ghost call of duty#ghost cod#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley fanfiction#ghost x reader#ghost x y/n#ghost x you#simon ghost fluff#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost x reader#simom riley x reader#simon riley imagine#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley cod#simon x reader#simon riley x reader#ghost simon riley#simon riley#simon riley x you#simon ghost x you#ghost headcanons#ghost mw2#simon riley x female reader#simon riley fluff#simon riley x y/n#cod ghost x reader#ghost cod x reader#cod x reader#cod mwii#cod x y/n
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✧.* what happens after mattheo finds his sweet bsf moping after a bad date..?
bsf!mattheo x angel!reader (fem pov)
word count: approx 2.2k
cw: MDNI!!, smut, bsf!mattheo, piv, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, finger sucking(?), lots of praise, mattheo is maybe kind of a perv idk lol, p link in the middle
a/n: sorry it took me a bajillion years to do this... sleep schedule is in the works :( + requests are open :3
Mattheo quickly flipped over the muggle Playboy magazine he had gotten his hands on the previous summer and fumbled with his zipper as he heard his dorm door swing open. Needn't to turn around as he recognized the familiar sound of your heels clicking across his floor as you kicked them off and slumped onto his bed, he clumsily shoved his small collection of magazines into his drawer.
Clearing his throat, he asked, "How was your date, he ugly?" He did not bother to turn around and face you, adamant about not showing you his flushed face.
Truth be told, your "date" was terrible. You had waited at the Three Broomsticks for hours, garnering pitying looks from Madam Rosmerta while you awkwardly stirred an on-the-house butterbeer, waiting for your blind date to arrive.
"Bad..." you managed to mutter, your voice trembling slightly. You had begun suffocating as your face was planted on one of his pillows, raising your head up for air and seeing the tear stains you left on the pillowcase.
Slightly surprised, he furrowed his brows, turning around his chair to get a full view of you, sulking, face-first on his bed. "Why? What happened?" he questioned.
"Didn't even show," you sniffled out, not looking up.
Concern washed over his face as he got up, readjusting his pants for the second time, before sitting gently beside you. He placed a palm on your shoulder, pushing slightly to get a view of you. You didn't resist, turning your body around, and giving him a clear look at you.
His heart ached at the sight of you; your dried-up tears, the red hue in your eyes, and the remnants of tears clinging onto your bottom lashes.
Mattheo brought his thumb to your face, swiping away at your cheek. "He didn't?" he asked softly. He meant to sound comforting and understanding, but his voice had a subtle tone of hope that you didn't catch over your small hiccup.
You shut your eyes, feeling new tears form as he pulled you up off your back, allowing you to sit against his headboard. Kicking off his slippers, he brought his feet onto the bed and sat beside you, placing your head on his shoulder with his arm slung over yours.
You both stayed in that position, silent, for a while. It wasn't uncomfortable, it was something familiar to make you feel better. Mattheo fidgeted with his sheets with his free arm and you felt most of the tears come to a stop. Lifting your head off his shoulder, you turned towards him.
"You're a guy right?" you asked.
"I'm pretty sure."
You stifled a small giggle before resuming your more solemn mood. "Do y'know why he wouldn't come?" you asked tentatively. Met with silence and his gaze set straight ahead, you prodded, "Like... think he saw me and left?"
"No. No way."
Mattheo had answered you quickly, even surprising you. You had expected a teasing yeah or a reluctant no from him, but he seemed dead serious. It wasn't like Mattheo was rude to you, merlin, you were probably the one person he was the nicest to, but he'd usually never pass up on an easy opportunity to make a joke.
Moving closer beside him, you peered curiously at his face, looking for any sign of sarcasm, but there wasn't any. "Really?"
The sight of your doubting eyes, the slight quiver in your lips, and the feel of your body pressed against his arm as you sat on his bed was all too much for Mattheo to handle. He wanted to scoop you up and mumble reassurances into your ears, but a part of him that he so desperately wanted to push away, wanted to fuck you senseless and show you how serious he really was.
Fuck. He knew it was wrong to feel this way when you sought comfort from him and nothing more, but he could hardly suppress his thoughts. Not when you stumbled into his room as he was about to relieve himself-- especially not in the strapless dress you wore for your date.
"Mm, yeah," he barely got out. "You're... beautiful."
You hummed appreciatively, feeling an unfamiliar blush creep up your face. Mattheo was your friend, and he had complimented you a few times before, but this was strangely... intimate. Grateful for him, you let your head sink past his shoulder and onto his chest and allowed one of your hands to play around with the material of his shirt, the soft cotton rubbing against your fingertips.
Tracing patterns on his shirt, his toned torso underneath; so close to your touch, you allowed yourself to be mesmerized while drawing swirls and stars on his shirt until you felt his body go taut and he cleared his throat.
"Oh-- sorry," you said sheepishly, retracting your hand. You sat back up, having your head properly rested against the headboard.
"No, don't be," Mattheo said. "I'm just, just a bit out of it right now," he told you, turning to face you.
"Yeah..." you noted. "You look a bit flush." You examined his face, his cheeks lightly dusted with a rosy hue and a very tiny bead of sweat on his forehead. You pushed yourself off the headboard, sitting straight up on the bed and your eyes wandered over him. "Are you," you began to ask in concern before your heart leaped into your throat from the sight of his very obvious boner. "...okay?" you finished, swallowing thickly.
"Don't even worry 'bout me," Mattheo shrugged off, oblivious to your wandering eyes. "Feeling better now?" he asked you, your tears from earlier no longer apparent.
Your brain still short circuiting from the sight of his boner, you paused before snapping back into reality.
"I-- uh, I don't know..." you said biting your lip. "I was really excited to go, but I guess he wasn't."
Mattheo searched for the words to say before you spoke again.
"Maybe I got the date wrong. Oo, oh! Maybe the place wrong?" you tried to convince yourself. "Merlin, who am I kidding? He saw me and decided not to show," you groaned. "I knew I shouldn't have worn this dress, I was kind of doubting buying it when I was at the store and-" you rambled before being cut off by a cool hand on your chin turning your head around.
"Hey- what are you doing?" you smiled sheepishly, caught off guard.
"Stop talking about yourself like that. You know it's not true."
You chortled, confusion etched onto your features, but nothing on his face resembled a joke.
"Stop joking, I'm actually sad," you finally drawled.
"M'not joking," he said. Before you could retort, he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss.
Your mind clouded for a brief moment before you began to kiss him back.
For such a seemingly rough guy, his lips were soft and welcoming. You could go days without pulling away, your hands running up his back as he cupped your face. Kissing him felt natural, something that you didn't have to work very hard to do.
You let your body take over and kiss him without worry and he seemed to do the same as he slipped his tongue in, taking you by surprise.
Knowing he already crossed a line by kissing his best friend, Mattheo couldn't hold back the amount of arousal coursing through him at the moment. Without thinking, he allowed a hand to trail down from your face, feeling the lines of your waist until it found your thigh. Pushing the blue silk dress upwards, his hand rested on your ass.
Not protesting at all, you leaned closer, with his hands beginning to guide you onto his lap. You both sunk on the bed, having you straddle him. The cool air hit your bare skin as he brought your dress even upper, the dress folding inside out on your waist. His hands ran up and down your ass, stroking the lace of your underwear.
He slipped his hand underneath the material, feeling the skin of his palms on your unclothed ass, groping and grabbing blindly. You continued to kiss him, resting on top of him warmly until you felt his hand ghost over your bare folds causing you to pull away from the kiss and elicit a moan.
You looked at him curiously, parting your lips before he asked, "Can I?"
Before you could contemplate, your body was already deciding as you immediately nodded up and down. His fingers trailed lightly on the outside of your slick cunt and you could hear him murmur to himself but the sound was blocked out of your ears as your mind was clouded with thrill.
Burying your head beside his head and into his pillows, you let out a shrill whimper as you felt him insert one finger. Slowly, he pumped it in and out of your cunt, slowly increasing in speed.
Entering another finger, your whimpers grew into moans and he turned to look at your heated face.
"Fuck, you're cute."
Unable to respond, you attempted to give him a sheepish smile that sent him over the edge.
His fingers pumped in and out of you with uncontrollable fervor, your fluids coating his fingers as you leaked out. You writhed around on top of him, small squeals escaping your lips as you felt your orgasm near.
"M-Matt..." you mewled. "I'm gonna-"
"Shh, shh," he said, bringing his free hand to caress your head. "You can come. Come on my fingers for me." He buried his fingers deep inside, curling them slightly as he found your g-spot.
No longer able to contain yourself, you let your orgasm happen, your cunt tightening over his fingers. Panting, your body went limp which gave him time to flip you over so you were below him.
Watching the look you sported as your orgasm washed over you, the way you were beneath him, and how your lips were swollen from your previous make out, Mattheo could've sworn he was going to come right in his pants.
Wasting no time, he pulled down his pants, boxers following, allowing his cock to spring out, the tip already leaky with precum.
Pulling down your soaked underwear, he positioned himself between your legs. He pushed in slowly, each agonizing second torturing you as you desperately wanted him.
He rocked his hips and you had expected him to go slowly like he did with his fingers, but he quickly set a pace, hardly waiting for you to adjust.
The world felt unreal to you, having your best friend's cock inside of you when just moments before you were moping about some mystery guy...
Mattheo tugged down the top of your dress, the lack of straps allowing your tits to pool out. Fondling greedily, he couldn't even contain himself.
"Can't believe he lost this before even getting it," he groaned under his breath. "Fucking clown."
Unable to get a word out through your whimpers and mewls, all you could do was blush bashfully at his words.
He brought his hand to cup your jaw, slipping his thumb into your mouth. Teasing, he pulled his thumb to the edge of your mouth, contorting your lips as he laughed to himself. "You look adorable."
He continued to tease, finding the faces you made amusing as he continued to use his cock to kiss your cervix. You were about to unravel again, your cunt gripping onto his cock as your cries grew louder, your hands scratching his arms. "Gonna come?" he asked. You nodded quickly, a sign for him to slow down.
"Are you?" you asked tentatively.
"Not yet. Wanna savor my time with my favorite girl," he cooed, leaning into your ear.
Your surprise couldn't last long as you came for a second time, your face scrunching up. You breathed heavily, still allowing your body to process while Mattheo took the time to pull out and turn you around, your knees sinking on the bed.
Mattheo wanted to frame that moment right there and then. Capturing the sight of you; back arched down, ass up in the air practically inviting him inside your glossy cunt, face buried into the sheets.
"I hope you're forgetting about that guy. I would throw myself off the Astronomy Tower if I skimped out on a date only to find out it was with you."
Entering once more, he threw his head back before letting out moans of his own. Unlike during missionary, he went in patiently, admiring the view of his cock sliding in and out of your folds.
"I'm going to come just looking at you like this, I swear. Want me to? Want me to come inside?"
"Y-yes!" you managed to sputter out. "Please..."
"The day I say no to you; just know I'm under the imperius curse." And with that, he came, spurting thick ropes of cum inside to coat your walls. "Shit..."
He pulled out, leaning down to watch the remnants of his arousal seep out of you. He pulled you upwards to sit on your knees on his bed before hugging you by the head, caressing you with his hands roving your body.
"Bet you're glad he didn't show now, huh?" he joked gloatingly.
"Yeah."
―――――――――ʚ♡ɞ―――――――――
#⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ works#⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ angel!reader#mattheo riddle#slytherin boys#mattheo riddle smut#x reader#fanfic#harry potter smut#drabble#imagine#mattheo riddle x you#p links#harry potter#slytherin#mattheo riddle x reader#matt riddle#benjamin wadsworth#x you smut#mattheo riddle imagine#harry potter fandom#slytherin boys smut#slytherin boys imagine#slytherin boys x reader#mattheo x y/n#mattheo smut#mattheo x you
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“parenting class” with kei tsukishima
this is part six of my kinktober event :3
word count: 1.5k
warnings: nsfw, timeskip tsukishima, breeding, talks about pregnancy, tsukki is maybe a little bit bad!, finishing inside, unprotected p in v. 18+ mdni!
notes: who tf was gonna tell me pregnancy scares are real
kinktober masterlist | masterlist
kei tsukishima didn’t know what had come over him.
personally, he blamed that stupid parenting class that was required, for some reason. kei thought it was idiotic, but he needed it to graduate. and they absolutely doomed him when they put both of you in class together.
there was something about you, his sweet, beautiful and kind girlfriend that had already won his heart a million times over, doing things that a mom would do. of course, they provided those dumb dolls that cried and stuff—but you seemed to be able to calm the robot baby down instantly. the smallest appearance of a smile came over his face when you’d bounce the doll in your arms, or feed it the fake food.
god forbid when they made you wear that horrible pregnancy vest, because it gave your boyfriend terribly amazing imagery of what you’d actually look like carrying his child. maybe he was weird for it, but after the few weeks of that class was over, kei couldn’t stop himself from only thinking about one thing;
getting you pregnant.
he hadn’t ever been the dad type, until now.
“do you want kids?” tsukishima had asked you, all the while focused on a homework assignment. the question was one you hadn’t talked about before. it took you by surprise, obviously, and you wondered if it was something your tsukki wanted, too.
“if you want them, yeah.”
and that reply is what led kei to his current position, deciding between two ways the both of your lives could go. but as you laid there in his dorm room, trapped under his arms, all the excuses he could make for what he was about to do ran through his head. both of you were adults, set to graduate college in a few months, along with jobs lined up the second you got your diplomas. he already had a ring for you, he’d decided he was going to marry you a long time ago—
what did he have to lose?
“are you okay? you seem out of it, tsukki,” you say, running your fingers through your boyfriend’s blond locks. you had been waiting for a few minutes now, and all kei was doing was staring down at you, the look in his eyes gradually shifting over time.
“mhm.” is the only reply you get out of him, but he finally starts to move his eyes up and down your face, skimming over your lips and soft cheeks. kei felt like he could moan aloud when you wrap your arms behind his neck and lean up to give him a small peck.
he loved how sweet you were to him, a stark contrast in his own personality. he was never one to show affection in many ways, but you made up for it with the amount of affection you gave him. you had kei wrapped around your little finger, and boy, did he know it.
wrapping your legs around his waist, you pull kei in impossibly closer, the warmth in between your legs now was prodded at by the tent in your boyfriend’s boxers. kei harshly sucks air through his teeth at the pressure, absentmindedly rutting against you, feeling your panties and the dampness behind them, absolutely soaked. kei could tell.
“i don’t have a condom,” he remarks, subtly watching how you’d react.
“oh—um, it’s okay,” you reply almost instantaneously, “i’m on birth control, tsukki.”
damn it.
tsukishima nods his head, leaning up to allow space for the both of you to strip away the clothing that was keeping him from being inside of you. scooting back on the bed, you allow him room to join you. kei climbs up on the mattress with you, slotting himself between your already spread thighs, cock immediately pressing against the warm wetness of your cunt. you whine at the teasing, though it isn’t intentional, and kei hushes your noises with a sweet kiss.
as your lips lock and your skin becomes warmer at your lover’s contact, kei’s slender hands come to grab under your thighs, situating you in a rather unexplored position—a mating press. his head draws back again, just to take in the sight of you; in his shirt, and rather everything else completely exposed to him. the small light coming from his desk lamp illuminates you perfectly, shows off how soft you are to kei, the perfect body to carry his kids—
“kei,” you whine, “are you sure you’re okay?” your question is half concern and half desperation, wanting him to either move or tell you he isn’t horny; though, the raging erection he has would say otherwise. “if you don’t wanna do it, we don’t have to—oh!”
your rambling is cut off by a harsh thrust inside, kei wasting no time to completely insert himself into you. he was never one to be too rough, maybe a little erratic, but never completely silent and impatient. you can tell there is no patience left in your boyfriend, with how he immediately begins a grueling, fast pace, slamming his length into you with unrelenting force. your pretty little brain, usually so sweet and composed, has no time to think about what’s got him so worked up, because he has you yelping out within only a few seconds.
“kei—kei!” you chant his name, it’s falling off your lips like a routine prayer, stuck on loop like a broken record.
kei’s knees dig into the fabric of his sheets, his thighs completely straightened, and it feels like he is using every bit of strength to wind his hips up and violently slam them back into you. becoming so fond of this position, you can feel him in new depths, as the slit of his cock taps – no, angrily impales – your cervix. he’s no longer calculated, or sweet, whatever had gotten into kei had made the man completely animalistic.
syrupy, soaked walls clamp around his length ridiculously tighter with every meeting of your hips, and you mewl. the first remnants of sweat creep on your boyfriend’s hairline, his glasses are beginning to slip down his nose, he’s almost silently panting. when your eyes aren’t squeezed shut, you can see the blank, mean expression settled on tsukishima’s features; it wasn’t a softened version of his face like normal.
“feels s’good, tsukki!” you manage to stammer out, arms flailing to the pillow you rested your head on to hold.
“yeah?” followed by a grunt is the only reply, the only words tsukki has given you the entire interaction. he usually liked to tease you, or have more remarks when you babbled on about how good he felt. but no, not now. not when he could feel himself getting closer from the death grip your pussy has on him, not when he can feel himself about to knock you up. “look at me.”
your eyes shoot open, despite the signals from your body telling you to keep them closed, lose yourself in the pleasure. you wouldn’t dare to disobey your boyfriend, not like this. so, of course, you lock your eyes with his, his cock still bullying its way deeper into you. kei savors the scrunched up, dirty look on your face, that of one he hasn’t seen before.
were you enjoying this that much? even if you didn’t know his intentions, were you finding pleasure in the thought of getting pregnant now, by him?
“i’m gonna finish inside,” kei states, and it’s not a request, nor a demand. it’s a simple statement, something he is going to do. you’re able to notice the passion, the need in his voice. and you think, for just a moment, that you understand his intentions.
however, the rough pounding he’s giving you leaves no time for thought.
“mm—finish in me, tsukki,” you motivate him, trying your damnedest to maintain the eye contact with him, “m’gonna cum too!” your voice pitches higher, and kei’s sure whoever’s trying to sleep on the other side of the wall probably hates him right now. but he doesn’t really care, no. he’s determined.
“yeah? close, hmm?” tsukishima teases, finally, in between heavy pants. you nod your head pathetically, not even asking for permission as you clench around him again and cum all over his cock. he’s learned you so well, he can tell when you cum, and he only speeds up the pace of his thrusting to fuck you through it.
at the sound of your pretty noises, kei loses himself, letting the feeling inside snap. thick, white ropes of his cum fly out and stick to your insides, you can feel the extra warmth from it all—it’s hotter than your insides, somehow. even as his pace slows, the thrusts remain just as hard; fucking into you all the way, he’s overstimulating the both of you. all for his greedy, reckless desires.
something had gotten into kei tsukishima, and he knew what it was now. it was all an insatiable, needy scratch inside his brain, only to be helped when in a few weeks, you take that plastic test in the bathroom of his dorm, and those two pink lines show up. he’d only be helped then.
#haikyuu#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu smut#haikyuu x reader smut#kei tsukishima#tsukishima kei#kei tsukishima x reader#tsukishima x reader#kei tsukishima smut
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I want to see all the carnival AU bios again, but finding Zooble's is too hard, even when using the search. I hope there's a more organized way to view them.
(Trying to come up with nicknames that said characters would give my characters.)
CARNIVAL AU MASTERPOST + BOUNDARIES
Augh... I never know how to organize stuff! But here is a mini master post of the TADC Info Cards (edited):
The Main Cast (Minus Zooble :C)
Zooble ( Plus Zooble!!! :3)
Shiny Cards ✨
Lesser AI
THE GLOINKS!!!
Level layout
OFFICIAL COMIC:
The Entire Comic has also been dubbed by @volticglitch !! If you're not a reader, You can watch their dubs instead!! Here is the dub
Your best friend!
Jesterly duties
The hallway
Crying
First clue
Special event!
Foul language - a silly
Excuse me?
Leave!
A word with Bubble
Let it Settle
CONCEPT ART:
Characters Relationship Chart ( Bonus, OC relationship Chart!)
The Tent
The Funhouse
Cutscene
Pomni expressions
Character design
Meet Pomni
ALT character skins (Bonus, Maid skins because of course I did)
Pomni expressions AGAIN!!! (and a bonus)
The Jester's Circus tent (and a bonus)
References
Shape language ramble
LOREEE:
Neck pieces
Neck pieces (prt 2)
Neck pieces (prt 3)
Silly Frilly
Toxic Positivity Duo
Quick Ragatha Doodle
The Rabbit
Non-sentient Pomni
Pity Laugh
First act of violence
First and only visit
DOODLE DUMPS:
First look
Meet Jax
Meet Ragatha
Meet Kinger
Meet Able
Zooble's room
Theatre shinanigans
Thanks for listening
Jax Doodles
Ragatha doodles (Feat. Kaufmo)
Caine doodles
Queenie?
Colored doodles
Eye popping
Jax Ko-fi request!
SILLIES!!:
The "Sillies!!" Section is moved HERE becuase the mastpost couldn't take any more links!
╔══ ❀•°❀BOUNDERIES/FAQ❀°•❀ ══╗
"Can I make OCs In Carnival?" - Yess!! Multiple people already have and they make me so happy! do whatever, as long as you're happy and having fun!! " Can I make NSFW?" - Yas and slay, just be sure to warn and spoiler it, etc. etc. be responsible when posting NSFW! " Can I make Fanfics?" - Yes and please show me!! that would be lovely!! " Can I dub/voice your stuff?" - Yes but, I have only one rule... show me pleaaasseeee pls pls pls 🥺🙏 " Can I ship the characters/self ships/ OC x Canon?" - Aughh.. this is gonna suck to explain cuz its a lot to ask.. You're allowed to ship any ship! My only boundary is that it doesn't include either Pomni or Caine being with others who are not eachother! For example: Ragatha x Jax ✅ Pomni x Jax❌ Kinger x Queenie✅ Kinger x Caine❌ As long as the ship does not include Pomni or Caine individually, I'm all aboard!! I respect Jax x Pomni shippers, as well as Kinger x caine shippers, I just don't like them myself and don't want to accidentally stumble upon them in the tag! I do apologize if that's a lot, it just makes me uncomfy! Bounderies can be very tight! :')
#The amazing digital circus#the amazing digital carnival#carnival au#pomni#caine#zooble#gangle#kinger#Ragatha#Jax#tadc#tadc fanart#the amazing digital circus fanart#queenie#kaufmo#able
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Modern library science has five key tenets that would also guide a future library economy. Developed by S. R. Ranganathan in his 1931 book, “Five Laws of Library Science,” these concepts are some of the most influential in today’s library economy. Let’s discuss these laws and how they would apply to the broader library economy. 1. Books are for use While preservation of certain original works is important, the purpose of a book is to be read. More broadly, a hammer’s purpose is to hammer, a tent to shelter, a children’s toy to be played with. Americans buy a lot of stuff, much of which spends more time idle in storage than in productive use. This law guides libraries to prioritize access, equality of service, and focus on the little things that prevent people from active use of the library’s collection. 2. Every person has their book This law guides libraries to serve a wide range of patrons and to develop a broad collection to serve a wide variety of needs and wants. The librarian should not be judgmental or prejudiced regarding what specific patrons choose to borrow. This extends to aesthetics of products, ergonomics, accessibility, topics, and the types of products themselves. 3. Every book has its reader This law states that everything has its place in the library, and guides libraries to keep pieces of the collection, even if only a very small demographic might choose to read them. This prevents a tyranny of the majority in access to resources. 4. Save the time of the reader This law guides libraries to focus on making resources easy to locate quickly and efficiently. This involves employing systems of categorization that save the time of patrons and library employees. 5. The library is a growing organism This law posits that libraries should always be growing in the quantity of items in the library and in the collection’s overall quality through gradual replacement and updating as materials are worn down. Growth today can also mean adoption of digital access tools.
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okay sooo mae i have this idea for emt!marauders! you know how some people have mistaken appendicitis/ruptured appendix for bad period cramps (bc period education is so abysmal). im imagining a reader who thinks they’re having the worst period pain ever and the marauders are trying to help, but once reader describes their symptoms the boys are like ‘uhmmm no babes you literally need an organ removed rn’.
i hope you are having the best day <3 sending you all the good vibes!! <3
Sending good vibes back, thank you lovely <33
cw: stomach pains, mention of hospital/surgery
emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 974 words
“Shh, I know, baby.”
“You don’t,” you moan bitterly, pushing your face harder into Sirius’ lap and clutching your heating pad to your stomach.
“I—yeah, I guess you’re right. Sorry.” He continues to toy with your hair, fingernails scratching lightly at your scalp in an attempt to soothe you. On the other end of the couch by your feet, James watches you with a sad puppy look. Sirius’ hand brushes across your temple, and he makes a sympathetic whining sound. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re hot.”
“It hurts,” you whine in earnest.
“Do you want some brownies?” Remus peeks out of the kitchen. “I’m almost done with these, but you’re welcome to some batter if you can’t wait.”
You nibble your lip, looking at him apologetically. “I don’t think I feel well enough to eat anything.”
Remus gives you a compassionate look and disappears back into the kitchen. Another wave of sudden, sharp pain makes you suck in a breath, curling tighter in on yourself. Sirius coos.
“Fuck, what did I do to deserve this?” You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to breathe through the pain. “It’s never usually this bad.”
“Does it hurt in your back, too, angel?” James leans forward, rubbing tentatively at the base of your spine.
“No, not—not this time. It’s so weird.”
His eyebrows bunch. “Why don’t you at least have some of your tea? That usually helps, doesn’t it?”
You press your face into Sirius’ stomach. He palms the back of your head protectively, thumb rubbing the skin by your ear. “Honestly, thank you, but I really don’t think I can.
“You should, dove,” says Remus, coming in from the kitchen to crouch by your head. He takes your tea and presses it into your hands, brushing a kiss against your hairline when you take it. “Sit up and have a few sips before it gets cold.”
Reluctantly, you do as you’re told, allowing Sirius to help you into a seated position. He pulls you gently into his lap, making sure your heating pad stays situated, and you raise the cup to your lips. James rubs your ankle encouragingly while you drink.
“What’s wrong?” he asks at your pinched expression.
You mash your face into Sirius’ shoulder, ashamed. You feel horribly dramatic. You must have the lowest pain threshold in the whole world. “I can’t decide whether to go to the toilet. I feel like I could be sick, but moving makes it hurt worse.”
Remus takes your cup from you, setting it back on the table. He’s frowning. “Moving makes it worse?”
You nod miserably.
He touches his knuckles to your forehead, brows stitching together. “How long have you been feeling nauseous?”
You make a low, piteous sound. It feels impossible to think clearly with your stomach radiating hurt. “I dunno. I think it’s because of the pain.”
“Was it the same time that the cramps started?”
“I think so.”
“Alright, thanks, sweetheart.” He kisses the space between your brows. “Do you mind if we check on something really quickly?”
You feel your eyebrows furrow. You’re about to ask what he means when James takes your heating pad, pulling it off of your middle.
“Just for a second,” he promises at your distressed expression. “I’m gonna feel your stomach, okay?”
You nod, wanting whatever this is over with so you can get your heating pad back, but when James’ fingers push gently into your lower abdomen, the pain triples. You cry out.
“It’s okay,” Sirius coos, holding you tighter to his chest while James backs up to allow you to fold your knees in again. “It’s okay, baby, he’s done.”
“Jamie,” Remus asks softly, “would you get us a bag ready, please?”
You blow air out through your mouth, trying to calm yourself as the pain fades back to the way it was. Sirius pets the back of your head, his other arm wrapped firmly around your shoulders. “A bag for what?” you ask weakly.
Remus looks at you, his face conveying both apology and tenderness. “We’re going to go to the hospital,” he says slowly.
“Wha—why?” You feel immediately frantic. Tears press at your eyes. “I don’t want to go anywhere.”
“He’s telling you why, baby, listen.” Sirius kisses your head.
“You’re not having period cramps,” Remus says patiently. “The good news is, we can fix it. The pain will go away, and you’ll be completely fine. But to do that, we need to go to the hospital so you can have your appendix taken out.”
As he explains, Sirius is pressing kiss after kiss into your hair, holding you close and rubbing your back when you get upset. You make your dissent known, but Remus is calm and understanding. He answers your questions honestly, tells you about the procedure, promises they’ll be with you for as long as you’re awake. Before long, James has returned with a backpack of supplies for an overnight stay and your pillow under his arm.
He sets them both down on the coffee table. Slips one arm behind your shoulders, another beneath the crooks of your knees.
“No sense in walking when you’re poorly, right angel? Sirius, you can carry her things, yeah?”
Sirius groans as he slings the backpack over his shoulder. “Fuck, did you pack all her books?”
“Just the essentials.” James kisses the bridge of your nose. “Wouldn’t want you getting bored in there. You doing alright?”
“I don’t see how it can get worse,” you manage. You know you must look awful, eyes red from withheld tears and face creased with pain. James’ brows hook sympathetically.
“At least you’ll feel better in a few hours, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Remus answers for you. He sets a palm on top of your head as he moves past you both to get the door. “We’ll have you all fixed up soon, dove.”
#emt!marauders#emt!marauders x reader#poly!marauders#poly!marauders au#poly!marauders x reader#poly!marauders x fem!reader#poly!marauders x y/n#poly!marauders x you#poly!marauders x self insert#poly!marauders fanfiction#poly!marauders fanfic#poly!marauders fic#poly!marauders fluff#poly!marauders hurt/comfort#poly!marauders imagine#poly!marauders scenario#poly!marauders blurb#poly!marauders drabble#poly!marauders one shot#poly!marauders oneshot#james potter#james potter x reader#remus lupin#remus lupin x reader#sirius black#sirius black x reader#marauders#marauders fanfiction#marauders fandom#the marauders
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hi!! i recently discovered your blog and i'm afraid you've singlehandedly brought back my harry potter hyperfixation. i didn't even know moonwater/darksun wasn't a thing until your posts ... i've been so out of loop
i was wondering if you could write about moonwater and a reader who's too nice for her own good. regulus being in a secret relationship with reader and remus, seeing reader being bullied and trying to teach her how to be scary or fight back but she's too adorable for it. so he just says fuck it and hard launches their relationship by walking her everywhere to scare away her bullies himself
such a cute prompt - thank you for your request! I hope I did it justice <3
poly!moonwater x whimsical!reader who's too sweet for her own good [1.1k words]
CW: fem!reader, reader is from Ravenclaw, her housemates are sort of bullying her, the boys are protective, Regulus threatens pain and torture, hard launching an up-until-then private relationship, fluff
“Dovie,” Remus cooed in that way that Regulus could tell he was sort of trying to be chiding but really couldn’t bring himself to be as stern as he wanted to be, “where is your scarf?”
You paused in shucking off your robes to look down at your scarfless frame as though you’d only just realised it was missing. “Oh, well, it wasn’t on the coat rack that I normally leave it on when I was getting ready for class this morning.” You explained breezily. “So I just left without it.”
“Do you have any idea where it could be?” Regulus asked carefully as he fought against the protective ire threatening to bubble over; daring to draw closer to you in the privacy of one of the study rooms that the three of you often secluded yourselves in.
The relationship was new - not tentative, yet delicate - and Regulus wasn’t exactly ready to welcome the attention that being a Black and a Slytherin could draw to what he deemed to be quite precious.
“No, but it has the habit of showing up in the most peculiar places.” You replied, ever present smile adorning your face as Remus and Regulus shared a sympathetic and concerned gaze over your head, respectively.
“Like where, amour?” Regulus pressed.
Your lips pursed as you considered him. “One time it was hanging from the rafters in the great hall; that was very tricky to get down. Oh! And another time, it was wrapped in a bow around a pot of venomous tentacula; very cute, but the plant did nip at me when I tried to retrieve it.”
“Sweetheart,” Remus cooed again as he sat forward in his chair, clearly feeling very sorry on your behalf, “who keeps doing that?”
Your brows furrowed at Remus’ obvious displeasure. “Well, I’m sure it’s probably my housemates? They have easy enough access to my things.”
“Things?” Regulus interjected. “Plural? They do this to your other stuff too?”
“Oh, all the time.” You agreed simply.
“And you let them?” He continued, earning him a reproachful “Regulus…” from Remus.
“Well,” you offered with a shrug of your shoulders, “they seem to have fun doing it.”
“No, absolutely not.” Regulus declared as he stood. “Amour, stand up, we’re putting an end to this.”
“An end to this?” You asked curiously, though you stood as Regulus directed you to, allowing him to position you in the middle of the room.
“Pretend I’m your roommates.” He instructed, fixing his robes and standing straighter as he ignored Remus’ snort of laughter who simply watched with intrigue. “Tell me to keep my filthy fucking hands off of your godsdamned things.”
You pulled your lips in between your teeth as you looked at Remus nervously. “Erm…could, well, could you please keep your…filthy fucking hands off of my things…please?”
“Amour,” Regulus chastised, “stop saying please. Don’t say please.”
“Well, it’s just that it’s a little rude, Regulus.” You explained as though Regulus might not have known.
“I know it’s rude, amour. That’s what happens when people steal your things, yeah?”
“They’re not stealing my things.” You argued. “They…borrow them; I get them back eventually.”
“Yeah? Remus, do you often have to fight venomous tentacula’s for your things?”
“Not once.” Remus answered quickly, keeping his interested gaze on you.
“No? Why’s that?”
Remus shrugged. “I’d probably be very rude to them if anyone tried to steal my things.”
“You’re not rude, Remus.” You insisted, causing Remus’ teasing smile to soften to near painful levels. Regulus thought it was disgusting adorable.
“I’m not rude to you, dovie. But you also don’t steal my things or play mean pranks on me.”
Your face fell somewhere between bemused and crestfallen. “You think they’re being mean to me?”
A pained sound actually emanated from the back of Remus’ throat.
“Well…I don’t think they’re being very nice to you, mon cœur.” Regulus offered softly, shooting a grimace over at Remus.
“Well…why would I want to be rude like them, then?” You asked honestly, and Salazar’s saggy balls, if Regulus didn’t completely agree with you.
“You know what, amour? You’re absolutely right.” He agreed; lips threatening to turn up at the corners at your relieved smile.
“Well, hang on.” Remus started. “What are we going to do about her things?”
“Salazar help me, if you don’t tell me where the fuck you’ve put her scarf I will have you chained to the bottom of the Black Lake so godsdamned fast, Merlin himself won’t be able to help you.” Regulus hissed, one hand fisting the collar of a beady-eyed Ravenclaw and one hand shoving the tip of his wand into the bloke's jugular.
“It-it’s hanging in the Hippogriff pen!” He offered quickly, struggling in Regulus’ grip.
“Good lad.” Remus offered patronisingly from behind Regulus. “Now go get it for her.”
Regulus released his hold on the bloke's collar the second he nodded, and the Ravenclaw couldn’t have taken off towards the Beast's classroom faster if he had tried.
“Anyone else have any of Y/N’s things they’d like to cough up before we come looking for them?” Remus asked jovially, smiling at the cautious crowd that had formed when they heard Regulus Black and Remus Lupin of all people were on a warpath.
“Uhm,” a witch squeaked as she stepped towards you, keeping her nervous eyes pointed at your boyfriends, “sorry, L/N…I, erm, I seem to have come across your History of Magic textbook.”
You smiled as though she was handing you a gift. “Thank you, Clarissa; I kept getting detention for showing up to class without it.”
Regulus was sure Remus could actually hear Regulus’ teeth clench from his place beside him, but Remus simply placed a placating hand on his elbow.
“If I so much as see you even looking at her things again, Clarissa-”
“You won’t!” Clarissa yelped, interrupting the end of Regulus’ threat before taking off down the hallway.
“Do you have all of your things now, dove?” Remus asked after you, watching you look down at the book in your hands.
“Almost, but I’m sure the rest of my things will start showing up now.” You responded happily. Remus nodded in agreement, Regulus narrowed his eyes at the surrounding crowd as if threatening ‘they better’.
The relationship was new - not tentative, yet delicate - and Regulus hadn’t been quite ready to welcome the attention that being a Black and a Slytherin could draw to what he deemed to be quite precious.
But if welcoming the attention that being a Black and a Slytherin could draw is what it took to keep you happy and safe, well, he was more than willing to pull out all the stops for his sweet and too-pure-for-her-own-good girlfriend.
#marauders era#marauders au#marauders fanfiction#reader insert#self insert#remus lupin#regulus black#moonwater#moonseeker#poly!moonwater#poly!moonwater x reader#poly!moonwater x you#poly!moonseeker#poly!moonseeker x reader#poly!moonseeker x you#poly!moonwater fluff#poly!moonwater hurt/comfort#poly!moonwater imagine#poly!moonwater fic#poly!moonwater ficlet#poly!moonwater blurb#fem!reader#whimsical!reader#ellecdc fics
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23:46 — song mingi
in which your best friend is a little hard to wake up.
roommate!song mingi x fem!reader. genre. friends to lovers. fluff. timestamp. warnings. lots of kisses. wc. 1k. rating. pg-13.
lilo's notes. hiii here's a cute little mingi fic because i love him so much :3
listening to. you're mine, you!, chet baker
masterlist.
a quiet chuckle leaves your lips as you walk into the living room, finding your roommate fast asleep on the couch. mingi snored softly, sprawled out with his black playstation controler dangling from his hand for dear life.
you just wanted to grab a snack from the kitchen, but instead you made a detour to crouch beside the couch and take the controler from his hand as gently as you could. not that taking it from him forcefully would’ve made any difference; he could sleep through a category five hurricane. once you set the controller on the small coffee table, you reached for the glasses that squished against his nose.
he didn’t stir as you nudged his shoulder gently. at first you felt bad about having to wake him, but the distinct memories of him whining about his shoulder hurting after sleeping on the couch flashed through your mind.
“mingi…” you whispered softly, nudging him again, “mingi, wake up.”
after the third nudge he muttered something, though you could quite tell what. with your hand resting on his should as he pushed his face further into the pillow beneath his head, you sighed and moved to get up. but before you could register it, a hand wrapped around your write and pulled you down on the couch, legs tangling with yours and his other hand keeping you close by the small of your back.
you held your breath as he began moving you, practically trapping you beneath his large body as he drags himself halfway on top of you, one leg slotted between yours. his short, washed-out pink hair tickled your cheek as he lifted his head to look at you. you would’ve laughed at the tired expression of his face, all pouting lips and squinting eyes.
“i tried to wake you.” your voice came out a lot higher than you intended, not realising you almost felt flustered at your current position.
his eyes fluttered shut again and he dropped his head into the crook of your neck, making you tense for a moment before relaxing. his voice gravelly in his newly awake state, he spoke against the soft skin of your neck, “why”
“you always complain about your neck hurting when you sleep on the couch, i was trying to get you to move and sleep in your bed but you wouldn’t wake up.”
your answer has him humming understandingly, nuzzling his face further into your neck. your best friend was usually quite affectionate, however, this felt different from the more common cuddles during movie nights or occasional hand holding. you chalked it up to him not being fully awake, mind still hazy from his nap. at least until you felt the first of his kisses along your neck. they were so soft they were easy to miss, yet still the unmistakable brush of his lips that you sometimes found yourself wanting to feel against yours.
still, you didn’t protest, tentatively moving one of your hands up to brush through the hair at the nape of his neck. this only encouraged him, another hum vibrating against your skin. a soft sigh slipped passed your lips as his large hand moved to the small of your back to your waist, thumb carressing you through your flimsy white tanktop. with his body pressed against yours and his lips kissing anywhere he could reach comfortably, you relaxed, letting yourself lean your head back against the plush sofa.
“mingi,” you finally pulled yourself together to ask, “what are you doing?”
“just… just holding you,” he muttered against you. his kisses were tender and didn’t hold any sense of urgency, lazy presses against your pulse. “you feel nice, you smell nice, and you’re so warm. let me just hold you for a bit, please?”
it almost sounded like he was pleading when he asked you to let him do so and you found it hard to say no. in general, you found it hard to say no to anything he asked. so, you agreed, your voice barely above a whisper and making him lift his head to look down at you. moments turned into seconds which turned into minutes as your surroundings blurred and all you could think of was the tender look in his eyes as he leaned forward. he paused, waiting to see if you’d tell him to stop, but at the sight of the slightest of nods he couldn’t hold himself back from brushing his lips against yours. his hand on your waist tightened for a second as he pulled away, holding himself up with his other hand, forearm supporting him as his face hovered above yours.
he took in the sight of you beneath him, gaze flickering all over your face as he tried to memorise the sparkling look of your round eyes and your tiny puffs of air. there’s a smile tugging at his plush lips, barely noticeable but enough to make your cheeks warm even more. and when he spoke, his voice was no longer rough with sleep, but a gentle whisper only for you to hear.
“please tell me this isn’t a dream.”
you almost laughed at the endearing question but opted to smile instead, your hands cupping his cheeks. “no, this isn’t dream.”
“good,” he spoke through a sigh, sounding oh so content, “you’re just so pretty.”
a comfortable silence washed over you as he lowered himself to press another kiss against your lips. this time he let himself stay longer, he found the taste of your lips addicting, getting lost in the way they feel against his tongue as he swiped it along your bottom lip. when you parted for air, he rested his forehead against yous, breath mingling. the rest of the night was spent through lazy kisses and loving words that left you confused at the relationship you shared with him. but before you could ask about it, you had both fallen asleep, wrapped in each others arms on the couch you had tried so hard to get him off of.
networks. @cromernet @wonderlandnet
taglist. @ad0rechuu @sankatchu @mlink64 @yeosangsbb @seonghwasbbgirl @likexaxdaydream @dreamingofyeo
#cromernet#wonderlandnet#mingi x reader#mingi imagines#mingi scenarios#mingi headcanons#mingi reactions#mingi fluff#mingi angst#ateez x reader#ateez angst#ateez imagines#ateez scenarios#ateez reactions#ateez headcanons#yandere ateez#ateez fluff#ateez soft hours#ateez soft thoughts#ateez soft asks#ateez smau
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Hear me out...
Lando x Franco x Oscar x reader :3
Like reader is one of their girlfriends and he loses a bet and has to share or smth 👀
Warnings: Smut, 18+, FOURSOME 😰, oral (m receiving, and f receiving) foreplay, a lot of penetration, betting, degradation, hair-pulling, choking, praise, some spanking?
Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader x Franco Colapinto x Oscar Piastri
A/N - when you’re in a freak off and your opponent is @themultifanshipper (this is a joke)
When Franco came home and told you that he’d already made a bet with Lando and Oscar that he’d be able to get points on debut and in a Williams, you were pretty skeptical. But when he said the words after it? The words that went; ‘and if I don’t, um, they said they get to…to fuck you.
You were next to going mad.
Yes, Lando and Oscar were very good looking (and maybe you weren’t entirely against the idea), but your boyfriend had betted your dignity? Dear, dear Franco. And, to no one’s surprise, he didn’t manage to get points on debut, finishing just outside the points.
And so, you hurriedly turned off the TV, pushing the remote and your snacks into some random drawer, rushing up the stairs, and stripping your hoodie off. Like you’d ever sit there wearing sweats and a hoodie when Oscar and Lando came to fuck you.
You lit a few candles to set the mood, a bottle of wine in the side of your cabinet as you pulled an orange lingerie set on, making sure the buckles hugged your curves in the perfect places, before you pulled a black minidress on.
The papaya straps were visible on your bare shoulders, as you took a little box from the side, sliding the raspberry scent across your collarbone and behind your ears, spritzing yourself with the same scent, and making sure your hair looked presentable, untied and down.
You poured the glasses of wine on the side, watching your phone as you saw your boyfriend’s location slowly travel from the circuit to the hotel room. You had everything you needed - wine, towels for after, you were all set to go.
“Hey Y/N, it’s nice to meet you,” Lando smiled to you as Oscar gave you his classic, polite cat smile from behind his teammate. Franco’s eyes traversed up and down your body - god, you never dressed up like that when it was normal sex with just him and you but whatever. Now wasn’t the time.
“Hi,” you smiled, stepping back so the boys could remove their shoes, Lando’s gaze dropping to your own heeled feet, before he sent Oscar a smirk. Franco wasn’t awfully happy about the fact that his girlfriend was about to get railed by his two on-track rivals, but he made the bet, he should’ve prepared for consequences.
“Just this way,” you said, leading the boys up the stairs, giving Oscar a perfect view of your ass as you did so. “How long have y’all been dating?” Lando asked, ignoring the fact that there was a pack of condoms on the side of the bed, waiting for him to slide onto his cock so he could-
“A while,” you said, as Franco shot you an unamused look. “A while? Two years,” he corrected you as you rolled your eyes, handing Lando and Oscar a glass of wine each. “This is the good stuff,” Oscar said, swirling it round in his glass before he took a sip of it.
“I’m sure your boyfriend told you about our little…agreement,” Oscar said, his voice somewhat teasing as you nodded, playing along and not letting your gaze fall to Lando or Oscar’s growing members. “He sure has,” you said, a small smile playing on your glossed lips as you sipped on your wine.
“What position do you want, then?” Lando asked, his attention on the young Argentine, who, too, had a tent forming between his legs. “What position gives us the best view?” Oscar asked, his words purposefully set to rile Franco up. Not that he cared, that was the point, anyways.
“What?” Franco said, playing dumb as Oscar shook his head in amusement. “You said you’ve been dating her two years,” Lando smirked in amusement, “surely you’ve tried some positions with her? Or, were you not enough to satisfy her?”.
Franco gritted his teeth, his expression set as he narrowed his eyes at the two papaya boys, all whilst you sat there, watching your boyfriend take the slack, busying yourself with removing your watch. “Doggy,” Franco said simply, as Lando gave him a small smirk.
“Thank you,” was all Oscar said, before he had you pulled onto your feet, head yanked up to look at him, his hand on your chin as Lando watched, his eyes dropping to your ass as he lifted your dress up slightly, tracing the curve of your ass. “Ready?” the Aussie said, his jaw slack as you nodded.
Lando didn’t need more confirmation as he pulled your dress off and over your head, thrusting it to the floor. “Keep her jewellery on,” Oscar said, his voice commanding and a lot different to the polite smile he’d given you earlier, “she’ll look pretty with it,”.
You watched as Lando admired the set, running a finger below the strap on your shoulder. “All dressed up for us, hm?” Lando asked, titling your chin so he could pull you into a messy kiss, Oscar’s head dipping to kiss and nip at your neck.
“Tell me, Y/N,” Lando said your name in an almost sing-song voice as Oscar slowly removed the panties of the lingerie, keeping the bra part on as Lando let go of you. “Did you not even believe in your little boyfriend?” he asked, his eyes boring into yours.
“That’s not a very nice thing to do, Y/N,” Oscar said, a mock sigh in his voice as Franco sat in a chair, watching as his girlfriend got handled by two other men. Lando moved you onto your hands and knees, admiring the view from the back, before he gave your ass a harsh smack, before squeezing the supple flesh.
“Count f’me,” Lando said, as Oscar moved to your front, standing in front of you as he held his member, slowly pumping himself, tracing your lips with his throbbing head. “One,” you choked out as Lando gave your ass another smack, your head falling closer into Oscar’s thighs.
“T-Two,” you gasped as Lando gave your thighs a squeeze, then a thwack, your tongue poking out to lick at Oscar’s base. “Three!” you squealed as Lando’s palm came down on your skin, before once again, massaging away at your flesh. Franco had his hand below his joggers, desperately pumping himself, begging for friction.
“You look pathetic,” Oscar mused as he slowly pushed himself into your mouth, his throbbing head hitting the back of your throat. “C’mon,” Lando gesture to Franco to join them, “need someone to make her ready to take my cock,” Lando smirked, even though you were already wet enough for him.
Franco didn’t need telling twice as he knelt behind you, his hands gripping at your thighs as he licked a long line up your core, a moan on your lips as it muffled into Oscar’s member, his hips moving slowly, guiding his cock in and out of you.
Lando watched as Franco slid his tongue over your clit, circling your bundle of nerves before fucking his tongue into you, your core becoming hotter with need. You cried out at the feeling, your nosies still muffled by Oscar moving his hips in and out of you, his head hitting the back of your throat again and again.
“Enough,” Lando said, dismissing your boyfriend to move back as he gave a defiant huff, moving to sit on his chair again as Lando sunk into you. Oscar finally let you off for breath as you moaned, your core welcoming Lando graciously, enveloping his member in your warm juices.
Your velvety walls clenched round him as he groaned, watching you from behind, your body coating in a thin sheen of sweat, cheeks flushed red, as Oscar plucked the hair tie from the side, tying my hair back and out of my face. “Look at her,” Oscar smirked, pushing me back onto his cock.
“Takes us so well, doesn’t she, Franco?” he directed the question to your boyfriend. Franco said nothing, watching as Lando rocked in and out of you, your eyes rolling back before they closed, lashes fluttering against your cheek.
“I can feel her,” Oscar smirked as he moved his hand to your throat to hold your head still, adding a bit of pressure as he rocked his hips in and out of your mouth, slowly moving, tantalising and torturous. “Do we take better care of you than Franco?” Lando asked, his voice mocking as he leaned down to press a kiss to your spine.
He knew fully well you couldn’t answer, your mouth preoccupied with Oscar’s cock. “How many times do you think we can make her cum??” Lando asked the question to your boyfriend once again, his dick sliding in and out of your moist folds, his breath turning to short pants as your cunt squeezed onto him.
Lando purposefully pulled out of you as you let out an indignant whine of protest, bucking your hips back to try and get some sort of friction. “Look at you,” Lando said, his voice half degrading and half praising as he finally let himself sink back into you, his cock once again welcomed inside of you.
“Begging for my fucking cock, and not even using your words,” Lando said, giving your ass a soft thwack as you moaned, moving further toward Oscar. “Gonna cum down your throat,” Oscar groaned, holding you closer into him, his thrusts speeding up against your throat before he pulled you closer, clamping you down on his cock.
The Aussie held you there for a few seconds, your nose buried into his stomach as his cum washed down your throat, warm and hot, before he let go, his cock flinging off of your lips and against his thighs as he panted, still squeezing at your neck. “Your turn,” Lando said, as Oscar stepped back.
Franco grumbled, having much rather have control of your pussy, his own girlfriend’s cunt, but said nothing, letting you do the work of bobbing your head up and down. You were more focused on Lando, however, as Oscar watched on the sides, a smirk on his face.
Lando moved one hand under your stomach, feeling himself in your belly, the other on your hip to hold you where he wanted you as he felt himself coming closer. “Gonna fill you up,” Lando said, his voice deep as he leaned down, his voice in your ear. You pulled back for a few seconds, gasping as you choked for air, the knot in your stomach unravelling.
Your orgasm flooded through, eyes going black as you saw stars, before you closed your eyes, head spinning and throbbing, your heart beating faster than you’d ever felt. Lando groaned as his own orgasm pushed through, his cum coating your thighs and core as he slid out, admiring his head on the edge of your pussy lips.
He gave your ass a final smack and a squeeze, your clit a last brush before he stepped back, letting Franco finish in his hand as you sat back. You were exhausted, beyond even, as Oscar pulled you to sit against the pillows behind you, and you took a sip of your wine. “That was…” you trailed off.
Enthralling. Amazing. Fucking hot? “Crazy,” Lando said. “It’s mot happening again,” Franco mumbled bitterly. Oh, you’d make sure it did. You didn’t need to worry about that. “So, uh, you betting on a win in Baku?” Lando asked Franco.
“Oh you’re taking the mick,” Franco grumbled.
#lando norris#lando norris x reader#lando norris imagine#lando norris x you#lando x reader#f1#lando norris smut#Oscar piaster x reader#Oscar piastri imagine#oscar piastri x fem!reader#oscar piastri fic#franco colapinto#franco colapinto x reader#franco colapinto imagine#franco colapinto fic#franco colapinto x y/n#franco colapinto x you#oscar piastri x y/n#oscar piastri imagines#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri#lando norris x oscar piastri#landoscar x reader#landoscar#lando norris x franco colapinto x y/n#lando norris x franco colapinto#lando norris x y/n
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A Feline Connection Part 5
Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader
Summary: Natasha grapples with your betrayal and her conflicted feelings about you.
Masterlist Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9
Warnings: angst, violence, hurt/comfort, toxic relationship/emotional manipulation (not from Natasha)
Words: 5017
Natasha groans softly as a dull pain pulses behind her temples, forcing her to squeeze her eyes tighter. She shifts, trying to burrow deeper into her pillow, seeking comfort, but instead, her forehead meets the cold surface of stone.
The icy touch jolts her, and her eyes snap open.
Reality crashes back.
Sneaking in with you Deactivating Widow’s bomb implant Being betrayed
Her chest tightens, frustration bubbling under her skin as she presses her forehead harder into the ground, as if the pressure might somehow drown out the memories.
But what frustrates her most isn’t the sting of betrayal—it’s the fact that she can't bring herself to truly blame you.
Not completely.
She huffs, closing her eyes again, trying to calm the whirlpool of conflicting emotions.
Anger? Sure. Frustration? Definitely. But blame? It sticks in her throat, never fully forming.
After all, you'd warned her. Multiple times. It was almost cruel how you’d tried to warn her, yet she couldn’t bring herself to stay away.
Taking a steadying breath, Natasha forces herself to focus.
Her hands are tied behind her back—not tightly though, the knots already offering some slack. Her legs remain free, so she slowly shifts into a sitting position, bracing herself against the cold stone wall.
The room comes into sharper focus now: a dimly lit cell, the faint flicker of a light casting long, eerie shadows through the iron bars. The faint creaking of the light swinging lazily in the corridor beyond was the only sound besides her own breathing.
No signs of guards. Not yet, anyway.
Just as she starts working her hands free, a soft, familiar sound cuts through the silence—a tentative, quiet meow.
Natasha freezes, her sharp gaze scanning the dim room, her heart lurching at the sound. Seeing no signs of a presence, she calls out softly.
“Widow?”
Silence stretches on, making her doubt her senses. Maybe it was the residual effects of the tranquilizer.
But then, out of the shadows, a pair of yellow eyes blink open, locking with hers.
For a moment, they simply stare at each other in silence until eventually, Natasha feels a small, involuntary smile tug at the corners of her lips, an unexpected feeling of relief emerging at the sight of the cat.
Seeing that, Widow hesitates before moving closer, her body language almost guilty as she pads cautiously toward the bars.
When she reaches the edge of the barrier, Widow stops, meowing softly again, her eyes wide and pleading.
Natasha sighs at the sight, her frustration softening.
“I’m not mad at you.”
At her reassurance, Widow slips through the bars and scrambles onto Natasha’s lap, curling up against her with a low purr, her small body vibrating against Natasha’s chest.
Natasha chuckles lightly, finally freeing her hands and reaching up to gently scratch behind the cat’s ears.
“Your owner, though,” she mutters, her thoughts drifting back to you, “That’s another story.”
Widow tilts her head curiously in response, revealing something attached to her collar.
Natasha reaches for it, relieved when Widow doesn’t resist as much as usual, but the cat must still feel guilty about what happened.
She examines the small comms earpiece in her hand, easily guessing who it’s from.
With a resigned sigh, Natasha slips the earpiece into her ear, the slight hum of static filling the silence. She doesn’t have to wait long before your voice cuts through.
“How was your nap, Miss Black Widow?”
The casualness in your tone makes Natasha scoff in disbelief. She moves to stand, with Widow hopping off her lap, and heads toward the bars of the cell.
“That was unnecessary,” she replies flatly.
Her fingers trace the metal, looking for any weaknesses.
You hum thoughtfully, the low sound sending an involuntary shiver down her spine.
Natasha clenches her jaw, hating how even now—after everything—you still manage to get under her skin. Her frustration manifests as a soft sigh, though it’s tinged with more than just anger.
Your voice returns, gentler this time, as though you heard something in her sigh that makes you soften.
“I really am sorry for using you again. Especially after your help with Widow.”
At your apology, Natasha presses her forehead against the cool bars, her thoughts swirling, confusion mixing with hurt and a quiet, burning need for answers.
There’s so much she wants to ask you—so much she deserves to know.
But there’s one question she needs the answer to more than the rest.
“Was everything...just part of some plan?” she whispers, her voice barely audible.
The vulnerability in her question surprises her, but it hangs there, heavy. The real question remains unspoken, but it echoes loud and clear.
Was she?
The quiet buzz of static from the earpiece is the only response for a long moment. Natasha’s heart pounds, each second stretching out longer than the last.
Sensing the tension, Widow presses herself closer along Natasha’s legs, purring a small comfort in the otherwise heavy atmosphere.
Then, finally, your voice comes through, quieter, stripped of its earlier nonchalance.
“I never expected to find the Black Widow napping with my cat in the park.”
You pause, as if the memory brings a smile to your face, and Natasha feels the similar warmth curl in her chest.
A small, exasperated huff follows as you continue.
“I definitely didn’t expect her to steal my cat again.”
Despite herself, Natasha lets out a small laugh, shaking her head.
Your tone softens further at the sound.
“I never expected to work with you. To rely on you.”
A beat of silence, and then, with a sincerity that cut through every last barrier of hers, you whisper softly.
“No, Natasha, I never expected you.”
The words settle over her like a balm, soothing the ache she hadn’t realized she was carrying in her heart.
Natasha closes her eyes, leaning harder against the bars as a soft exhale escapes her lips.
Relief, in some strange, bittersweet form, washes over her.
But then your voice drops, and the rawness in it cuts deeper than anything else.
“…And you should’ve never met me.”
The sharp ache in Natasha’s chest tightens, your words sinking in like a blade.
She wasn’t supposed to hear that edge of regret, wasn’t supposed to feel the quiet admission that whatever this is between you—whatever fragile thing you share—was never meant to be.
And yet, it happened. Against every warning and every logical thought, it happened.
“Maybe not,” she whispers, her voice trembling.
The admission feels too honest, too exposed, but she can’t hold it back.
Her own words linger between you, and she’s not sure what they mean.
She’s caught between wishing she had stayed away and a terrible, exhilarating fear of how much she never wants to.
Widow’s small, warm body presses against Natasha’s leg, as if sensing her pain, her gentle purrs vibrating like a balm, soothing her frayed nerves.
Natasha bends slightly, her hand drifting absently to the cat, fingers brushing through soft fur, grounding her.
The cat’s presence is a reminder—a small, undeniable piece of you, of who you really are.
Someone who would risk herself to protect those she cared about.
Natasha takes a slow breath, her voice barely more than a murmur.
“Or maybe some people just need a second chance.”
The static hums in her ear, silence stretching on, and Natasha wonders if you heard her.
Finally, your voice returns, soft and laced with something between regret and acceptance.
“You don’t have much time before the guards return. You should take the chance to escape while you can.”
Natasha’s eyes search the cell, her gaze catching on the keyhole and a small piece of metal lying just outside the bars.
Stretching her arm as far as it’ll go, she reaches for it, her fingertips grazing the piece, but it’s just barely out of reach.
“What are you going to do?” she asks, her voice quiet but loaded with the question of whether you’ll follow her—or choose the path you seem already resigned to.
There’s a beat of silence before your reply comes, tinged with a finality that sinks into her like lead.
“Sorry, but I’ve got unfinished business to attend to.”
Closing her eyes briefly, Natasha sighs, both at your answer and her failed attempt, her hand falling as she gives up trying to reach the metal piece.
But then, Widow nudges her hand gently for her attention. She looks up as the cat drops the metal piece into her open palm, meowing softly.
Natasha’s lips curve into a faint smile, a moment of gratitude shared with the little creature. Her fingers scratch affectionately behind Widow’s ears before she begins to work the lock.
“You brought me here already. Let me help,” she says softly, hoping the offer might shift something and make you reconsider.
Silence fills the line again. The only sound is the faint clicks of the lock as she works.
Natasha’s heart pounds, wondering if the connection’s dropped or if maybe this is your way of closing yourself off completely.
But just as she begins to lose hope, a low, rueful chuckle filters through, carrying a warmth that, despite the tension, eases something within her.
“I do have one more favor to ask,” you say, and there’s a heaviness in your voice that Natasha knows all too well.
“Take care of her…”
The lock finally clicks, the door creaking open as Natasha hesitates, her eyes drifting down to the cat who’s gazing up at her, oblivious to the weight of the conversation unfolding around her.
Before she can respond, your voice cuts through again, softer this time, almost pleading.
~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~
“...please,” you murmur as you finish picking the lock of the door in front of you.
You don’t have the chance to hear Natasha’s response before a hand grabs the collar of your jacket, shoving you roughly against the doorframe.
The impact knocks the earpiece out of your ear, sending it clattering to the ground.
A low, taunting voice sends a chill through you.
“There you are.”
Your eyes widen slightly in surprise as they lock onto the woman before you.
A sleek, gold mask partially obscures her upper face, but it doesn’t hide the familiar, piercing gray eyes, staring back into yours.
Her grip tightens, holding you still as she leans in, her lips dangerously close to your neck. The cold metal of the mask brushes against your skin, and you flinch at the touch, while her warm breath contrasts sharply, making you tense.
“You know,” she murmurs, her voice almost a purr, “I would’ve opened this door for you if you’d just asked nicely.”
Suppressing a shiver, you push against her shoulder, trying to keep your voice calm and steady.
“Get off me, Whitney.”
The name feels bitter on your tongue—Whitney Frost, the powerful leader of one of the East Coast’s most notorious crime families.
Once an ally, maybe even more, but now…
A scoff escapes her, though she releases your collar, stepping back just enough to still keep her hold on you.
Her fingers trail along your collarbone, then slide up to your neck, stopping beneath your chin as she tilts your face to meet her gaze.
Her grip tightens, cutting off any response.
“You’ve really changed,” she observes with a hint of amusement. “The person I knew would never have said that to me.”
You meet her gaze defiantly, your lips pressed into a thin line, refusing to give her the satisfaction of an apology.
Her eyes narrow, her fingers digging in slightly as she studies you.
Then her expression shifts, realization dawning on her.
“Don’t tell me…” she scoff, her tone laced with disbelief, “you’re cocky because there’s an Avenger in the basement.”
With a mocking laugh, she lets go of your chin, stepping past you and into the room.
“Your favorite one, at that,” she adds without looking back, her tone dripping with bitter sarcasm.
The implication lingers, stinging as you let out a shaky breath, eyes flickering down to the earpiece on the floor, a final connection you know you can’t afford to keep.
With a resigned sigh, you crush it beneath your heel, the soft crack of the device echoing in the silence. Then, steeling yourself, you step into the room, closing the door behind you with a quiet finality.
The room is dim, shadows clinging to every corner, with just enough light from the window to make out the faint outline of your own hand in front of you.
Somewhere in the silence, you hear the quiet intake of breath, an untraceable whisper of movement that sets your pulse racing.
“I got you that cat,” her voice cuts through the quiet, echoing in the room.
It’s hard to tell where she’s standing with how the darkness hides her so well.
There’s a bitter edge to her words, her tone slipping between a calm accusation and a simmering frustration.
A slow, disapproving click of her tongue fills the silence.
“And then you go and name it after that woman. Now I hear you’re going on heists together.”
Your body tenses as her words echo around you, her voice drawing closer, each syllable laced with an unspoken threat.
“You really know how to make a girl jealous.”
Her words carry a disturbing, almost amused undertone before she lets out a thoughtful hum.
Then, a sharp snap echoes through the room, its cold finality hanging in the air.
“Maybe I should just get rid of her.”
“No,” you respond immediately, your voice steady but betraying the urgency beneath. “It’s not like that.”
Silence falls, thick and pressing, as if she’s weighing the truth of your words.
“Isn’t it?” she asks, and suddenly, she steps forward, her silhouette emerging from the darkness.
The gold mask is gone now, clearly revealing her piercing gray eyes that hold a glint of malice, though her face is still partially obscured by shadows and the loose waves of her jet-black hair.
She steps in close, her fingers finding the back of your neck in an all-too-familiar grip, pulling you toward her while pushing until your back hits the doorframe.
Your breath catches at the impact, and your body stiffens as she presses close, leaving no space between you. She moves in as if to kiss you but stops just a breath short.
“Does this feel familiar?” she murmurs in challenge, her tone low and taunting.
A chill slides down your spine at her touch, at the feeling of being trapped beneath her gaze.
The memory of Natasha’s touch flickers through your mind, her warmth and strength, the way her embrace had felt like a promise, something safe and fierce.
This touch, though familiar, feels cold—sharp.
Possessive.
“What do you want me to say?” you mutter, your voice barely above a whisper.
Whitney tilts her head, studying you with narrowed eyes, her grip tightening.
“That you don’t take me for a fool,” she hisses, her voice low but venomous. “You really think I revealed my location to you just because you brought some Avenger to me?”
Your eyes narrow, and you meet her glare with one of your own.
“Don't act like she wasn’t a threat to you. She was close to uncovering your operations, and you know it.”
Whitney scoffs, a harsh, humorless sound, her gaze sharp with anger.
“We wouldn’t have had to worry about her if that stupid cat hadn’t led her to the warehouses in the first place.”
Her tone is accusatory, a simmering rage barely held in check.
“She’s not stupid,” you defend, your jaw tightening.
A rare note of defiance slips into your tone, and you can see her eyes flash with a dangerous warning.
Whitney’s expression hardens, her fingers digging in more forcefully.
“Neither am I,” she snaps, her tone cold and cutting.
A smirk tugs at the corner of her lips, her eyes gleaming with a dark amusement as she continues, “I know you deactivated her implant.”
You swallow, trying to keep your expression neutral.
There’s no point denying it; she obviously saw what happened between you and Natasha. It makes sense she’d know why you were there in the first place.
Whitney lets out a disappointed click of her tongue, her head shaking slowly, her fingers tracing your cheek with a mocking tenderness.
“That implant was to keep you safe—so that I only have to use her instead,” she murmurs, her tone suddenly soft, almost soothing. “And yet, you chose to risk yourself to protect that cat.”
A low, humorless chuckle escapes her as she drops her forehead onto your shoulder, the sound echoing with bitter disbelief.
Her voice is softer now, but the sharp edge remains.
“Sometimes, I think you love that little vermin more than you love me.”
~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~
Widow darts forward, slipping nimbly between the guard’s legs, her small form a quick blur that grabs his attention.
“Hey!” he shouts, stumbling after the tiny intruder.
In that split-second distraction, Natasha closes the distance. She seizes his arm, twisting her body with practiced precision, her legs locking around his neck like a vice.
The guard stumbles, instinctively reaching up, but it’s already too late.
With a powerful twist of her hips, Natasha throws her entire weight into the move, flipping him backward.
He crashes onto the floor with a resounding thud, his weapon skittering out of reach as the impact drives the air from his lungs. He lies there, unconscious, sprawled across the ground.
Without missing a beat, Natasha releases him, flipping herself upright in one seamless motion, barely breaking her rhythm.
Ahead of her, down the hall, Widow pauses, looking back with an expectant meow, as if urging her to keep up.
Natasha huffs lightly, slipping the guard’s weapon into her belt before taking off after the cat, who maneuvers effortlessly through the winding maze of hallways.
Her heart pounds, thoughts racing as she recalls her last contact with you. She’d heard the faint sound of your voice, a brief exchange with someone, but after that—silence.
Worry twists in her stomach. Who was that person? And where are you now?
The moment they’d escaped from the cell floor, Widow had darted off purposefully, her small figure leading Natasha in a determined path.
Natasha follows closely, trusting that Widow is guiding her toward you.
As she rounds a corner, Natasha spots the cat waiting beside a door, her gaze determined and expectant.
Seeing Natasha approach, Widow lifts a paw, pressing it against the frame.
Natasha steps forward, keeping her movements silent, and notices that the lock on the door has already been picked open. She grips the weapon at her side, bracing herself for whatever awaits.
With a steadying breath, she swings the door open, scanning the room with quick, assessing eyes.
But instead of finding you, she’s greeted by the low hum of electronics and the faint beeping of servers.
The room is small, its walls lined with rows of humming machines and blinking lights.
Lowering her weapon, Natasha frowns, glancing around in confusion, but Widow doesn’t seem fazed.
Instead, she strides forward confidently, weaving through the narrow rows of servers as if she knows exactly where she’s going.
Natasha follows, watching as the cat stops at one specific row and licks at a treat already waiting for her on the floor nearby.
Widow finishes it, then raises her gaze upward, her tail swishing with purpose.
Natasha looks up to see what’s caught the cat’s attention.
A USB device is plugged into one of the servers, its tiny green light flashing steadily.
Before Natasha can react, Widow springs upward in one fluid movement, scaling the side of the server with feline grace. She delicately grips the USB with her teeth, pulling it from its slot.
Without a misstep, she lets go and lands gracefully on the ground, the device clutched in her mouth.
The cat pads back to Natasha, her eyes gleaming triumphantly, as if proudly presenting her accomplishment.
Widow meows, muffled around the USB, her posture exuding confidence and pride.
But Natasha can’t take the time to appreciate the adorable sight as she urgently shakes her head.
“No, this isn’t a mission, Widow. You’re supposed to lead me to her.”
Widow tilts her head, her expression shifting to confusion as she processes Natasha’s words, clearly unsure about this new request.
Natasha sighs but doesn’t let her frustration show against the cat. Still, its weight presses on her as she scans the room.
There has to be a clue here, something that will lead her to you.
Her thoughts are cut short by the sound of many approaching footsteps.
~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~
Silence fills the room, thick and tense, as you search for a response.
Eventually, you can tell her patience has already thinned when her fingers mindlessly trace your collarbone, dangerously slow, before she turns her head from where it rests on your shoulder and hovers her mouth close to your neck.
“This is the part where you tell me that what we have is more important than some silly little pet.”
Her voice is a low murmur, coaxing, as if daring you to contradict her.
“Had,” you correct sharply, moving your body back, putting a breath of space between you and her touch.
She lets out a soft, incredulous laugh.
“You’re not still upset about that, are you?”
Your gaze hardens.
“What did you expect, Whitney? You tricked me! People got hurt because of what I did.”
“Oh, baby,” she coos, mocking sympathy in her tone, “You didn’t hurt them. That’s my job.”
The words sting, laced with callousness, and her smirk sharpens, as if reveling in the power she once held over you.
Her eyes glint with amusement.
“Besides, you work for me. I found you when you were nothing more than a pickpocket on the streets. I saw your potential—saw how wonderful you could be.”
Your jaw clenches.
“I never wanted to do anything like that.”
Her expression flickers, a hint of irritation breaking through her cool exterior.
“So you decide to abandon me,” she remarks, her voice hardening. “Ran off in the middle of the night and left me to finish your job?”
She takes a step back, letting the moonlight illuminate her silhouette through the window. Slowly, she moves her hair from where it covers part of her face, showing you the scar that runs from the side of her forehead through her eye.
“Because you left, I got hurt in that last heist instead. Is that what you prefer?”
You swallow hard, a sense of guilt growing in you as you see the scar across her once-flawless skin. You personally know how much she valued her beauty.
“No,” you whisper, “I didn’t want anyone getting hurt. Not even you.”
“And yet,” she continues, “when I finally wake up, you’re gone. Disappeared with a generous cut of my funds too, I might add.”
Your jaw tightens at the painful memory of making that tough decision to betray someone you once cared so much about.
“I just took back what I stole for you. Not everything.”
Whitney laughs, low and humorless. She steps closer and leans in until she rests her forehead against yours.
“Everything you steal is mine,” she clarifies, her voice dark and possessive. “You are mine. And no one takes what belongs to me.”
Her hand caresses your cheek as she continues.
“Not you—and especially not her.”
Her words hang in the air, cold and final, before an abrupt call sounds from a phone. Her eyes don't leave yours as she answers, putting it on speaker.
A subordinate’s voice filters through, tense and urgent.
“Black Widow has escaped! The cat’s with her, too. She’s already taken down several of our men. What’s the order, boss?”
A flicker of annoyance crosses Whitney’s face as she goes to respond, but you act quickly, clutching her collar and pulling her to you.
Before she can say a word, you press your lips to hers.
As if on instinct, she responds immediately, deepening the kiss, her fingers slipping into your hair, holding you with a fierce possessiveness as her lips move against yours, just as they have so many times before.
But before she can lose herself any further, you pull back and whisper, your voice breathless.
“Don’t…don’t hurt them.”
Whitney’s gaze sharpens, eyes narrowing as she searches your face, assessing your plea.
You wait with bated breath, hoping she’ll listen this time.
Eventually, her lips curve in a slow, calculating smile, and something flickers in her expression, intrigued.
Finally, she raises the phone to her mouth, her voice steady and cold.
“No lethal shots. Just keep them away.”
She tosses the phone away dismissively, her smirk deepening as she returns her attention solely to you.
“See? Just ask nicely, and I’ll give you anything you want.”
~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~
Natasha takes cover behind the corner, firing off the last few rounds from the weapon she’d picked up earlier. Each shot buys her a precious second, but then, the gun clicks empty.
She curses under her breath, tossing the useless weapon aside as the guards return fire, bullets ricocheting off the walls around her, forcing her back.
Natasha scans her surroundings as she searches for an escape. Just as she’s about to make a break for it, she feels a sharp tug at her leg.
Startled, she looks down to find Widow clawing at the fabric of her pants, her yellow eyes wide and urgent.
Once she had her attention, the cat releases her hold and pads over to a pile of empty boxes and debris stacked against the wall, pushing at the heap insistently.
Natasha hesitates, but then she sees what Widow’s after: a narrow chute hidden behind the clutter.
Acting fast, Natasha clears the debris aside, revealing the dark opening of the chute.
Without hesitation, Widow jumps through, disappearing into the shadows below.
Natasha spares only a split second to glance back at the approaching guards before following. She dives into the chute, her body dropping swiftly, darkness surrounding her as she slides down into the unknown.
As the chute opens to a faint glow, Natasha tenses, bracing herself. She rolls as she lands, dropping into a crouch just as the two guards stationed there turn to her in shock.
They barely have time to react before Natasha springs forward, her movements precise and lethal, taking them down in seconds.
A soft meow echoes from an adjacent hallway, pulling her attention. Widow waits for her near the entrance before continuing on her way.
Natasha falls into step, following the cat through a maze of narrow hallways and hidden passages.
But with every twist and turn, a mounting frustration gnaws at her, the growing realization that they’re being funneled further and further away from her goal—away from you.
After a final sprint through a nondescript door, Natasha suddenly finds herself outside.
The cool night air hits her skin, a stark contrast to the suffocating corridors inside. She spins around, instinctively reaching for the door, ready to plunge back in and continue her search.
But the door remains locked, the handle unmoving under her grip.
She yanks at it, a surge of anger flaring within her as she’s met with resistance.
With a frustrated growl, Natasha slams her fist into the door, feeling the dull ache in her knuckles. But even the sting in her hand is nothing compared to the frustration coiling inside her chest.
A soft, concerned meow sounds beside her. Natasha glances down to find Widow watching her, the cat’s small face tilted up, her eyes full of worry.
For a moment, Natasha’s expression softens as she meets Widow’s gaze, recalling her promise to you.
“It’s going to be okay, Widow,” she murmurs, though her voice feels hollow, more of a reassurance to herself than to the cat.
Widow blinks, then leans against Natasha’s leg, her small, warm body a quiet comfort amidst the chaos. Natasha strokes her fur, grounding herself, even if only a little, in the gentle purrs vibrating under her hand.
But the weight of the situation lingers heavily, her mind racing with the bitter knowledge that she’s been forced out, away from you.
~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~
Your hand finds the edge of the desk behind you, steadying yourself as Whitney presses in closer. Your fingers slip along the surface, accidentally brushing against the hidden panel.
There’s a soft click, barely audible, and a small section of the desk slides open to reveal a concealed terminal.
But Whitney doesn’t notice, her focus entirely on you.
Her lips trail down your neck, each kiss lingering, leaving a heated trail that makes your pulse quicken despite yourself. She finds a particularly sensitive spot, her mouth lingering there, and a gasp escapes you involuntarily.
Out of the corner of your eye, the terminal screen flickers to life, displaying the active status of the device with your name highlighted under it.
The cold words remind you of the reality of your position.
You take a steadying breath, summoning the courage to make your request, hoping that your past together would be enough to change her mind.
“Take it out of me. The implant.”
Her mouth freezes against your skin.
For a moment, the only sound is your breath, quick and unsteady, mingling with her silence. Then she hums thoughtfully, her lips brushing against your skin in a deceptively gentle touch.
“Oh, I will…” Her words are soft, almost soothing, until her teeth sink harshly into your skin—a biting reprimand.
You wince, but she only holds you tighter, as if daring you to pull away.
“Once you’ve paid back every cent you stole. It’s only fair after what your little disappearing act did to me.”
Whitney lifts her gaze to meet yours, her eyes sharp and dangerous, an unmistakable warning glinting in their depths. She leans in closer, her lips brushing your ear, her voice a dark, possessive whisper that sends a chill down your spine.
“Until then,” she murmurs, pulling you firmly against her, “no more running away.”
~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9
a/n: thanks for reading! the back and forth style of the perspectives in this one was fun to do, different but still fun. Oh, and a new character too, any thoughts about her? There will be a small side story to give a snippet in the readers past coming soon before the next part releases, so look forward to that.
Side note: The next update for Everlasting Devotion is still in the process. I just wanted to reassure that I’m still working on that series. It’s just a new experience doing two series at once so I’m still trying to manage the time between the two, but we’ll see how this goes.
If you asked to be tagged and I missed it, please let me know again.
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