#that he has to be there and do more instead of avoiding

[dreamscapeee222]

hihii i hope ur doing well and that ur day is okay! I want to request and sorry for disturbing you..😔

Can i ask for like a arcane characters x reader whos lazy and sleeps literally all day it ain't healthy and lowki refuse to do any type of physical labor? Yet at the same time they strong af and can handle their opponents just fine they js rather not too? Lol like they have sm potential and they know it yet they dont wanna utilize it

It's ok u dont wanna do it heheh

A/n: Don't worry lol soo I hope you like it !!

You sleep all the time

Vi, Jinx, Caitlyn, Ekko, Jayce, Viktor, Mel

Masterlist

Vi

Vi storms into the room, frustration etched across her face. “Seriously? You’re just gonna sit there while I’m breaking my back out here?” Her voice rises slightly, but you don’t flinch. Instead, you lift your head from your spot on the couch and grin.

“If you’ve got it handled, why would I bother?” you reply, stretching like a cat.

She growls under her breath, throwing her hands in the air. “You’re impossible!”

But the moment chaos breaks out in the Lanes, you’re the first to move. Vi watches in awe as you take down an entire group of enforcers like it’s a casual workout. By the time she catches up, you’re already dusting your hands off and heading back to your nap spot.

“Next time, warn me before you go Hulk-mode,” she mutters, but there’s admiration in her smirk.

Jinx

Jinx is sprawled across the workshop table, tossing random tools in the air. “You know, you’re like a sloth. A really ripped sloth. Like, how does that even happen?”

“Natural talent,” you reply lazily, barely opening your eyes from your nap.

She doesn’t let up, poking you with a wrench. “C’mon, do something cool! Throw me across the room or something.”

It’s not until you hear the unmistakable sound of danger—an intruder sneaking into her lair—that you move. In a flash, you’ve subdued the threat, pinning them down effortlessly. Jinx whistles low.

“Well, I’ll be damned. I take it back. You’re more of a lion pretending to be a house cat.”

Caitlyn

Caitlyn has tried every method to get you off your metaphorical couch—reasoning, bribing, even a structured plan—but nothing sticks. You always shrug her off with a lazy smile.

“Why should I lift a finger when I can just avoid it altogether?” you tease.

Her patience wears thin when a high-stakes chase leads to her being cornered by an armed gang. She’s mentally preparing herself for a fight when you appear out of nowhere, effortlessly disarming every single one of them.

“I thought you didn’t want to do physical labor,” she says, breathless.

“Only when it’s boring,” you reply, cracking a rare grin.

Ekko

Ekko can’t understand why you refuse to help out with the Firelights. “You’ve got so much potential! We need you!”

You wave him off, yawning. “You’ve got this under control, don’t you?”

It’s not until you both get ambushed during a supply run that he sees your strength firsthand. One moment you’re lounging against a wall, the next you’re tossing attackers left and right, your movements precise and calculated.

Ekko is stunned into silence as the dust settles.

“Guess I should help more often, huh?” you say with a smirk. He shakes his head, grinning. “Yeah, maybe. Just don’t get used to slacking again.”

Jayce

Jayce sees your laziness as both a mystery and a challenge. “You could be a hero, you know. Why don’t you want to make a difference?”

“Because saving the world is exhausting,” you reply, sprawled out across his lab bench.

He’s about to launch into another lecture when a loud crash interrupts him. Someone’s trying to steal Hextech. Before Jayce can react, you’re already there, lifting the thief like they weigh nothing and tossing them out the door.

Jayce stares at you, wide-eyed. “Why don’t you do that all the time?”

“Because you’re here to handle it,” you say with a wink.

Viktor

Viktor watches you curiously, his analytical mind trying to piece together your contradictions. “You possess remarkable strength, yet you avoid its application. Why?”

“Because life’s too short to sweat the small stuff,” you reply, lounging against the wall.

He doesn’t fully understand your logic until one of Silco’s men shows up, trying to intimidate him. You intervene without hesitation, dismantling the threat with clinical precision.

Viktor blinks in surprise. “You are an enigma.”

You grin lazily. “And you’re welcome.”

Mel

Mel’s sharp gaze follows you as you avoid yet another council meeting. “You could achieve so much if you applied yourself,” she says, her voice dripping with intrigue.

“Or I could enjoy my life without unnecessary effort,” you counter, reclining in her lavish chair.

When the council chambers are attacked, she doesn’t expect you to act—but you do. With a flick of your wrist, you disarm the attackers, your movements a perfect blend of power and elegance.

Mel’s lips curve into a small smile. “Perhaps I underestimated you.”

“And perhaps I prefer it that way,” you reply, settling back down as if nothing happened.

See pinned.

[telafel]

Forever thinking about Spite trying and wanting to help Lucanis (even if its with selfish intentions), but Spite being a spirit/demon wanting things to just change on command. Spite gets the up front view of Lucanis' pain and trauma, exists in that same headapace where Lucanis is still in the Ossuary, burdened by what the people close to him think, projecting his own insecurities onto them.

Any attempt from Spite to help is stamped down by Lucanis immediately. I interpret those sleepwalking moments as Spite trying to get help in his own way. He never threw Lucanis off the edge of the Lighthouse. I think the eluvian scene, Spite might have been trying to go to Treviso since besides Rook those are the ones closest to Lucanis.

But Lucanis resents Spite, fears Spite and everything he embodies. The symbol of his trauma, a part of him forever changed. Of course Lucanis will do anything to avoid Spite and not entertain him. Which in turn frustrates Spite making their situation worse and worse.

But Spite knows that Lucanis, no matter what Rook does, opens up to them and listens. Something that Lucanis does for precious few because his trust is hard-earned. Of course Spite always wants to talk to Rook, catch their attention to help. Inside, Lucanis is pleading for help and answers but he feels he has no one to turn to.

I like to think that in Inner Demons when Spite takes control of Lucanis, that Lucanis is full on spiraling in anxiety. He's facing the reality that essentially his brother sold him out and the person who raised him is actually alive but he is *different* and *wrong* and anything he does could ruin everything. So he completely shuts down and closes off and Spite has free reign to do as he wishes... but Spite helps instead and pulls Rook in. Because Lucanis listens to Rook.

What i love about Spite is that even with the totally selfish read of his actions he still cares and realizes his host is important. He doesn't ever seem to genuinely want full control over Lucanis, he just wants more involvement and to not be shut out.

[cheqorb]

Sotto Voce.

Gaslighting everyone into believing you’re a really shit footballer because seeing people be impressed by your sheer lack of skill is more fun than being a genius.

FEAT. Bastard München ensemble

NOTES. uhhaua cross posted on ao3 (same user) but ajyway, thought this idea was funny and because of this lingering feeling of sadness i haha managed to Complete this?? Gosh im beside myself with worry!!

WORD COUNT. 2.2k

Isagi thinks he might be seeing things. Maybe all the relentless training in Blue Lock has finally caught up to him, leading him into a football-induced delirium, because he can’t quite comprehend what he’s looking at right now.

You’re moving across the field with a fluidity he’s only seen in pro-level players, doing tricks and turns he’s pretty sure aren’t even in his playbook. You glide past the defence, controlling the ball with a finesse that’s nearly supernatural — hell, he thinks even someone of Rin’s calibre would be breaking a sweat to try and keep up.

And you look bored while doing it. Eyes half-lidded, posture almost lazy, as if this is just another walk in the park and not you showing off world-class football technique.

Isagi’s mind races to make sense of this. You’d always been, well, normal to him.

Sometimes you’d play in a match, most other times you’d sit out on the sidelines. And he’s usually pretty sharp about these things, so it must’ve been because you just… didn’t stand out.

Yet here you are, pulling off flawless plays with little more than a mild yawn, as if winning against the top players here would barely register on your radar. Maybe it’s just luck, some freakish one-off, right?

… Nope. You just drilled another perfect goal into the top corner of the net.

He snaps out of his thoughts only when you suddenly stop mid-play, and his eyes meet yours. For a second, there’s a flicker of panic in your gaze and he opens his mouth, not even sure what he’s about to say.

“Y/N-”

You’re stomping towards him before he can even process the whole thing, your pace quicker and more full of menace than he’s used to seeing on you. You stop just short of him, tilt your head slightly, and in the calmest voice, say, “You saw nothing.”

He tries to stammer out something, but you leave soon afterwards.

────

Tripping over the ball is harder than it looks, but after enough practice, you’ve perfected the art of falling in a normal fashion. To most people, it’s convincing. Prior to a few days ago, you’d say all people but there’s a certain someone who entertains himself by boring holes into the back of your skull with an intense, unblinking stare.

You can feel it. Isagi waiting for you to slip up.

Actually slip up, instead of the falls you’ve gotten so good at imitating. It’s detestable, honestly. You’re trying to keep things as they’ve always been, and he just wants to come in and mess with the status quo!

Luckily for you, Igaguri’s too much of an idiot to harbour the same suspicions. Right now he’s too busy practically doubling over with laughter on the floor. The guy is probably thrilled to finally see someone playing the fool even more than he does. And as much as he’s a pain, he’s also the kind of person who makes perfect cover — play the role of an idiot, laugh it off with him, and everyone’s none the wiser.

So, in spite of your (what most would call) vindictive description of him, you do believe that some sort of strange pleasure is to be gained from surrounding yourself with people like him. Though perhaps that also makes you a terrible person.

The feeling is nothing like the rationale that Noa preaches about so often. It’s an undeniable truth in your heart.

Which is why you avoid the people who actually know what they’re doing on the field like the plague.

Yukimiya, on the other hand, is way too polite to laugh outright. He at least has the common sense to stifle it, reaching out a hand to help you off the ground with a quiet charm that makes people swoon. No wonder he’s a model.

Now, the imaginary audience in your mind might be wondering why you’re talking with a guy like him? Your answer: he’s not as notable ever since he patched things up with Isagi. He’s now the kind of person you can talk to without raising any brows. Again, it sounds harsh but you see it in a positive light. He’s becoming just the kind of person you adore most!

“Try and keep a close eye for stuff on the ground, alright?”

You flash him a grin, nodding. “You know me, just a total klutz all the time,” you reply as your usual happy-go-lucky self, making sure to project just loud enough for Isagi to hear.

And out of the corner of your eye, you catch that familiar look of suspicion deepening.

────

The silence that follows is brutal. Hiori and Kurona exchange a look that’s way too long for Isagi’s comfort. After finishing whatever telepathic debate they have with each other, they both stare back at him like he’s just pitched the most psychotic theory imaginable (which isn’t entirely untrue).

“You don’t believe me, do you?” he mutters, deflating a bit.

Hiori’s quick to reply, but Isagi is aware of the faintest flicker of amusement in his eyes. “It’s not that we don’t believe you. But, ya have to admit, it’s strange to hear Y/N… of all people, doing something like that.”

That’s code for what the fuck are you talking about, Isagi concludes with a grimace, his eyes shifting to Kurona hopefully.

“Crazy. Crazy.”

Kurona’s tone is deadpan, his gaze distant as if he’s trying not to laugh. Great.

Isagi sighs heavily, scrubbing a hand over his face. Maybe he is the one who’s going crazy here. It shouldn’t even bother him this much. It’s not like you’re particularly close! If anything, he can barely remember a conversation between the two of you that went beyond asking if you’d seen so and so.

And, judging by the responses he’s getting from both of his teammates, neither of them can figure out why he’s fixated on this either.

────

Noa is going on and on about practice drills, how to follow his instructions precisely, something about rationality and technique, blah, blah, blah. You stifle a yawn. If this is what being in one of the top clubs means, you should’ve begged Ego to be in Barcha instead. At least Lavinho would’ve been fun.

You hear his coaching style isn’t by any means phenomenal if you’re trying to improve your skills, but good thing you’re not planning on doing anything of the sort!

And just when you think you might actually pass out from boredom, you see Isagi walking over. Again. He’s approaching with that same cautious look, but it’s not enough to make him think twice about bothering you apparently. That’s also something that bugs you, he’s never a quitter.

You flash him an oblivious smile. “Oh, Isagi! Whatcha up to? Need anything from little ol’ me?”

You lay it on thick, voice dripping with cheerful innocence. His jaw tightens, and for a second, you swear you can see a flicker of annoyance on his face. That’s new. Your words have the opposite effect than what you had originally intended.

“Listen, I know what I saw, alright? You’re not fooling anyone.”

He launches into a whole spiel about how he’s seen you pull off moves that only high-level players can pull off, how he doesn’t care if it’s part of some large game you’re playing, how you should be using your skill to distinguish yourself.

…You really don’t give a shit, and in regards to his comments, you personally disagree! What’s the fun in doing all of that?

You tilt your head, pretending to think it over with wide, guileless eyes. Sure, you’re a little flattered he’s this invested in uncovering your “secret,” but the other 99% of you is totally unhappy.

When he finally wraps up his little speech, you just give him a half-hearted shrug with a smugness that he doesn’t miss.

“And who’s going to believe you?”

────

Kaiser likes to think of Isagi as predictable, average — someone who might fancy himself a hero but is ultimately just another small-time player waiting to be crushed. It’s almost laughable how seriously he takes himself. In fact, the only thing remotely worth mentioning about him recently is this bizarre fixation he seems to have developed on you.

He’s overheard your exchanges, and in short, they’re pathetic.

Isagi rambles on about how you’re hiding something, clinging to that delusion like it’s going to benefit him somehow. The psychology-lover inside him finds it almost fascinating in how utterly absurd it sounds.

So, when Kaiser spots you chatting with the ever despairing Grim (laughing so hard you have to hold back tears), he figures it wouldn’t be wrong to call you at least a little insane. Part of him wonders what humour could be found in the man’s deplorable monologues.

He figures he might as well join in on the entertainment. You’re far from his usual company, but you’ll do. For now. Moseying on over, his signature smirk is already in place.

He’s rewarded by the way your eyes immediately narrow in irritation, a look he’s all too familiar with and thoroughly enjoys on anyone really. Grim, blissfully unaware of what he’s leaving you to, heads off, and now it’s just you and Kaiser.

Leaning in closer, he asks, “What little secret of yours has got under Yoichi’s skin so badly?”

Kaiser waits, watching for the faintest flicker of reaction but you stay silent. How boring.

But! Not one to give up easily, he continues with a more direct jab, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone. The one where he acts like he knows everything there is to know about everyone. “That you’re really skilled, and this whole clueless act of yours is just a cheap facade?”

He raises a brow, as if daring you to admit it. To his delight, you lift your head, finally meeting his gaze albeit with an uncomfortably polite smile.

“I was just surprised you’re interested in something like that. But, Isagi’s a total liar. Isn’t he just so annoying? I can’t stand people who just don’t know when to give up, and I’m sure you agree.”

It’s not often someone catches him off-guard, and though he recovers quickly, the flicker of surprise is still there. Kaiser also sees opportunity however. He could work with this.

“Well, if you’re not a fan of Yoichi then feel free to join my side then,” he drawls, offering the position like it’s a dream come true. In his world, he’s already the star; what better way to elevate himself than to recruit someone.

“Ah, no. You’re both terrible.”

He can’t tell what’s worse; you lumping him together with Isagi, or the fact that you immediately walk off without giving him a chance to get the last word in.

────

“It’s like asking me if I prefer cat shit or dog shit. It’s still shit, and there’s no point in picking one over the other.”

You toss the comparison out to Kiyora, of all people — a bit of a waste since he just stares blankly at you, not saying a word. Pretty cute, actually, in a clueless sort of way.

The reality is that, at the moment, if you want a shot at the regulars, you’re supposed to cosy up to either Isagi or Kaiser. And as for everyone else? They’re can either fuck off or pray for a miracle.

Of course, you couldn’t care less about making the regulars. But every now and then, you forget there are people around you who do care, people with actual ambitions. Which is why you pause when you catch sight of Hiori and Kurona.

“Oh, Hiori and Kurona,” you point out the obvious.

They both glance your way, casual and relaxed, which gives you the impression that Isagi hasn’t roped them into his latest paranoid theories. Yet.

“Are ya heading back to training already?” Hiori asks, his soft voice and accent making it sound more like an invitation than a question. There’s a kindness to it that’s almost unsettling here in Blue Lock, but you return his smile with one of your own nevertheless.

Kiyora gives a small nod. “Yeah,” he says, brief and to the point.

You’re half-considering some excuse to slip away and do your own thing, but there’s something about the way Hiori is looking at you that draws your attention. Unlike Isagi, he’s way better at hiding it, but you can still feel his curiosity prickle under your skin.

You give him a lazy smile, leaning into the idea. “I’m already so tired from this morning’s training,” you lie, exaggerating just enough. “Honestly, going to bed early sounds great right about now.”

Morning training was barely enough to get you sweating, just a couple of warm-up drills for the afternoon matches. You doubt they have any clue what you’re talking about, which is exactly how you want it.

There’s a quiet pause, and then Hiori breaks it with a gentle but firm nudge. “Well, if yer looking to get on the regulars consistently, training more could be worth a shot.”

You force a smile that probably looks more akin to a grimace. This is exactly why you don’t like smart people. They poke and prod until your story frays at the edges. He definitely asked that on purpose! With a heavy sigh, you end up walking with them toward the pitch, despite every nerve in you screaming to veer off.

You can’t help but wonder if this is a test.

[yandereforme]

Yandere Batfam x Single Mother! Martha Lookalike! Singer! Reader

Part 6: Familiar strangers and odd behavior

So, normally, you and your kids don’t spend most of the day together during the weekend, since that was when you worked most. However, since your boss, Mr. Cobblepot, was apparently hosting a family friendly function at the Iceberg Lounge, and had even told you specifically you could bring your kids, you were now wearing a pretty black dress and heels, nervously fiddling with your kid’s little suits.

Thankfully, Jason was also invited and attending.(He had insisted on helping finance your dress, while Damian, who apparently was invited but couldn’t attend due to a ‘prior engagement’ dressed the twins. Celeste was now wearing a pretty light blue dress while Perseus was wearing a bite sized navy tux.) Jason had even chosen to match Perseus’s outfit, joking that since he was Perseus’s uncle, he should match.

(This comment was due to how sometimes when you’re in public and people noticed how good he was with the kids, they assumed he was at your brother or your husband fuck you and Jason bit disgusted at the husband remarks, but pretending to siblings was easier)(Jason always seemed so happy when that happened.)

After arriving, Mr. Cobblepot welcomes you with open arms, and you smile. While he can occasionally be grumpy or cold, he’s always been a kind boss, and appreciates your music. He trusts you to choose appropriate music, a rarity as you have seen with your other singing colleagues.

(You don’t know, but Cobblepot is extremely fond of you, seeing you as almost a daughter to him. He has already nicknamed you Nightingale, and adores every one of your shifts. He pays you much more, claiming it’s due to your music bringing customers in, but everyone knows you are his favorite employee, except for you, of course)

You spend most of the night dancing with your kids and Jason. You even see Tim and chat with him for a bit before Cobblepot calls you over to introduce you to some of his colleagues.(You try to ignore the tension between your boss and your friend. As long as they don’t start brawling, you refuse to let this ruin your night.)

Then, after Jason and Cobblepot take aside a man who was harassing you, you take a small break, and Celeste starts fussing. Now, you were just trying to calm her down before she set Percy off, but then a stranger managed to distract and entertain your children by doing a somersault as he approached.

You talk for a while with him. His name was Dick, though it takes a long five minute conversation before you understand that he was actually called that. You were a bit suspicious about him approaching you, especially since he seemed captivated by your kids, but after hearing him gush about his siblings and chat amicably with you for almost twenty minutes, you were pretty sure he was just a decent guy before Jason came over.

Jason and Dick seemed to almost have an aggressive joke going on during the introductions. You notice the odd behavior, and the blood on Jason’s knuckles that he was trying to hide, but it was a long night, and you were tired.

Then, the power went out and you only have a minute of confusion before everyone starts freaking out. You quickly hand Jason Celeste and Perseus, knowing he is the least likely to get bowled over in the chaos. You get swept up in the crowd almost immediately, swept away. You barely manage to get out of the Iceberg Lounge when the gunshots start.

You were just standing in the Alley, catching your breath, when Batman arrived to take care of the matter, Robin at his side. You just stay in the alley away from the crowd, trying to avoid being swept away while you look through the crowd, hoping to find Jason with your kids. Instead, you lock eyes with Batman, who almost seemed to pale when he looked at you.

The staring is so intense yet…. The eyes seem almost familiar in some way. You unconsciously take a step forward, almost feeling a pull towards him, but the crowd sweeps you up quickly.

It takes five more minutes for you to find Dick, who thankfully has his phone on him. It only takes him five minutes to get Jason to answer and come over with your, thankfully fine, kids. By the time Jason is at your side, worryingly checking you for injuries you don’t have, you have made a new friend and exchanged phone numbers.

The night ends with Jason staying the night and you falling asleep with your kids in your arms. Unbeknownst to you, the night also ends with another man obsessed with you, Jason swearing he will protect you better(he can’t stop thinking about those twenty five minutes where he didn’t know where you were as shots rang out and he had to pray to a god he hadn’t believed in since he was fourteen that you were okay) and a man who spends the night recovering from “hallucinating” his mother in the mouth of an alley during a fight. Meanwhile, a man you hoped never to hear from again crosses into Gotham to find the children he never wanted and the girlfriend he never cared about.

Edit: I think I should clarify the timeline

We start with you moving to Gotham, and the babies are only a month old.

1 month in: You sing to Red Hood

1 month, 1 week in: You meet Jason

2 months, 2 weeks in: You save Robin/Jason becomes full on yandere

4 months 1 week in: You meet Damian

6 months 2 weeks in: You meet Alfred

7 months: You sing to Tim/he becomes yandere

8 months 1 week: The Icerberg Lounge is attacked

Yan Batfam x Singer! Single mom! Martha lookalike! Reader

( I know it’s a lot but they are all important to the plot)

Part 1:Beginnings and first encounters

You are Bruce’s bio daughter. Your mom, who didn’t know who the father of her kid was, gave you up to your aunt to be raised by them, but you didn’t know until your adoptive parent’s funeral that you weren’t their biological daughter. You had twins recently with a shitty ex of yours who you broke up with not long before the funeral after he tried to hurt your daughter for crying.

After the funeral, where you learn that your bio mom wasn’t sure who your bio dad was, but that she knew he lived in Gotham, you decide to move to Gotham. In part due to your biological father, in part due to avoiding your ex(who had refused to be listed on the birth certificate since you gave birth during a break in your relationship), and in part due to the basically free house your bio mom had owned in Gotham. So, you moved with the twins to an abandoned, slightly dilapidated house just outside of Crime Alley, and got yourself to work.

You got a job at the Ice berg Lounge, in part due to there being an opening, and in part due to you helping two women who worked there who apparently worked right under Mr. Cobblepot?

You quickly got a reputation as a singer with a knack for knowing just what song fit a customer. It was a bit of a game between you and the other workers, where they would point out a person and you would sing a song based on their vibes. You always managed your hit home with your songs, leading to you becoming one of the most popular performers at the Iceberg Lounge.

That’s what leads to Red Hood coming in one night. He had heard about you from a few of his men, and wanted to know what all the hype was about.(This take place during the Red Hood arc, where he has already been established as a crime boss but the Batfamily doesn’t know his identity)

Cobblepot asked you to sing a song for Red, and pointed him out to you. You knew who he was, you were just outside his area, and honestly you kind of liked what he was doing for the community, so you were willing to preform, even offering to sing two songs about him(something you had only done a few times with regulars who you really liked.

Jason accepted. You started off with You’re Gonna Go Far, Kid by The Offspring. You didn’t usually do a lot of rock songs, but that song resonated with you when you looked at him.(Jason loved the song. It was angry but fighting music, and your voice was really good. He understood why so many of his men praised your music(he just couldn’t understand why you looked so familiar))

The next song was different. You didn’t usually sing two songs, and the few times you did, people tended to vary reactions, from shock to anger to accidentally setting off a break down. But you had promised. You just hoped Red Hood wouldn’t hate you for the next song(you didn’t understand why it felt so right to sing the next song, when it didn’t seem like a Red Hood song, but you didn’t want to question it now.)

Then, you sang Good for you by Olivia Rodrigo, and everyone froze. (Jason didn’t know how you knew this anger of his. How did you know how he felt about Bruce replacing him? How did you know?) No one understood the song, especially when the recipient was a murderous crime boss, but they didn’t interrupt.

After you finished the song, you looked at Red Hood. He was sitting ramrod straight. You couldn’t see his face, but his posture was very tense. Slowly, he stood up, and walked to the stage. You didn’t know what you expected, but it wasn’t for him to drop $200 in your tip jar, and leave without a word.(Jason’s head was spinning. The green wasn’t invading, but it surrounded the edges of his vision. He needed to leave. He had to come back again, probably as a civilian, but for now, he needed to leave.)

After that, you got even more visitors, and a raise in your salary. You even made a new friend, Jason, and you were even starting to consider sending your kids to daycare instead of a baby sitter(you wouldn’t do that. You liked your arrangement with the street kids, where you would pay them in food and cash to watch your kids during the day. You liked taking care of them, but they needed to feel like they were doing stuff for you, so you didn’t make a fuss.)

Then, the Joker got out of Arkham.

Edit: I hope you guys enjoy this. This will probably be a series. I’ve had this idea for ages but never got around to it before now. This isn’t related to my Bruce or Jason series, which I will do, but I just wanted to finally put the on here. Please comment any suggestions for the kids names, or what you want to see next!

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | part twenty-two preview

Five days. They're still here. You realize what's taking them so long; they're collecting food, drying meat into jerky and simmering wild strawberries into jams that Nereida cans. They have quite a lot of supplies with them. One of Kyle's backpack's is filled with ammo and another is stuffed with medicine. 

Kyle is easy to talk to. Nereida, too. Price—however—seems like he doesn't know what to think of you. Or maybe you're too insignificant to have crossed his mind much. 

That's fair. You don't need to all be friends.

Blue seems to like Ari. He's thirteen, two years older than her, which is evident in the way her head reaches his shoulders. She doesn't even say hi to you in the morning. Instead she shows him all her magazines and even the rabbits. He decides to name one Rocky, a friend for Grim. You can't be bothered; she needs another friend. Ghost isn't keen about them alone together, though. You heard him mutter to Kyle—keep an eye on him, Gaz.

The threat of summer starts to invite more and more sweat down your neck. Your hair has gotten so long. After tossing and turning on Ghost's bedroom floor, it became a nest of tangles. When Nereida, Ari, and Blue go for a dip in the pond, you go with them and soak it, then let the water settle so you can stare at your reflection. Blade sharpened, you saw a few inches off. Better. More practical. 

"I thought you were going to cut more," Blue comments.

"I don't want it that short, or else it's harder to braid."

As the two kids keep swimming, Nereida finds bunches of rosemary and seems more excited than you'd be about it. 

"It helps fight off odors," she explains when you ask. "Like when I have my period, so the Greys can't smell it as much."

When she puts it that way, you grab some, too. Then you start wondering about her and John. Do they have sex? They must. You've seen the way they are. Kisses to their shoulder and neck, arms around each other's waist. You've stared a few times only to catch yourself and quickly look away. How do they avoid pregnancy? You highly doubt either of them want to bring a new child into the world. You wouldn't.

Ari and Blue lay in the sun together. You scoot away to give them space, but overhear some of their conversation, anyway.

"Your dad is so cool."

Blue plays with a piece of her hair. "Oh? You think so?"

"Have you seen him? He's a beast. My uncle told me he got his name because no one could see him coming before he killed them."

"He can be a pain in my ass sometimes," Blue mutters. Her nose scrunches. "But he's taught me a lot of things. I'm pretty good with knives."

"Damn, I gotta see that."

She is beaming. "I'll show you when we get back."

Then, she leans over and whispers something in his ear. Whatever it is, he smiles and shakes his head in response.

She pulls away, sighing. "I wish you guys could just stay here."

Or maybe your dad will make us go with them, you think to yourself. In a way, it's comforting, that he is secretive with her, too. He still hasn't brought up the topic again. Either he hasn't decided, or he doesn't actually plan on keeping you updated. You try your best not to ruminate, but it's hard not to, especially when you have a hard time falling asleep on floorboards and are left with your thoughts in the dark. 

Which is why you're not feeling thrilled by the time you go into his room. He's already lying in bed, one hand bent behind his head while the other props open a book. He looks comfortable. Almost normal, even.

"How do you sleep with the mask on?" you remark, kicking off your shoes. 

His eyes lift from the page briefly. "Like a baby."

"How come Kyle has seen you without it and not me?"

His jaw flexes. "Jealousy doesn't suit you, Twix."

"And mental sanity doesn't suit you."

A light huff. Then, "Nice haircut."

When the room is dark, Ghost must get tired of hearing you toss and turn. He flicks on the small lamp, and you squint from the sudden light, stuffing the pillow over your head. There's shuffling before a hand rips the pillow from your face and tosses it onto the bed.

"Just get in the fucking bed. I won't bite." The sight of him standing above you, sweatpants low on his hips, consumes your vision. His voice is low but demanding.

"What, together?"

"I want good sleep. M'not going to get it on the floor, or listening to you up all night, so get in." His eyes peer down at you, half-lidded, before he lowly adds, "I'll be a gentleman, if you're worried."

You lift up and ignore the offer of his hand. "I'm not worried."

To protest would be embarrassingly juvenile when both him and you know you want to sleep there. Yet—your heart thickens. He watches as you crawl into the bed where the ceiling slants, tucking yourself under the quilt and curling against the very edge so that your knees float over it. The springs groan to your left and then heady warmth spills over you. Ghost keeps to his side, flat on his back, with his hands lying on his chest. His elbow pokes into your back no matter how carefully you try to inch away, and his thigh just barely brushes against your backside. 

The bastard doesn't say a word, nor does he make an effort to give you more space so you screw your eyes shut and fall asleep to the sound of his breathing. 

[darlingdaisyfarm]

₊˚ʚ Rain in the woods (Ford Pines x fem!reader) ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

part 3

author note: wow. oh. I can’t believe i finished this :')

this ridiculous, tender unhinged love letter to Ford (and to all of you) has been such a wild ride. tbh i started writing this fic as a half-joke, half-desperate need to get the scenario out of my head and now it’s grown into something so much more intimate than i ever imagined

to everyone who liked, reblogged, who wrote to me such wonderful sweet comments - i read every one and I love you more than Ford loves overthinking. seriously :) your support means everything, and I hope you'll like this final chapter. I’m so grateful for you all <3

ALSO sorry if there are a lot of kisses here….... ummm well I mean, you can't really blame me bc if Ford had let me, I would have just eaten him whole

nsfw, minors DNI

You don’t notice, but his hands are trembling when he reaches for the first aid kit he’d somehow already brought with him. Had he been planning this? Or maybe. . . he just couldn’t stay away, couldn’t bear the thought of you trying to deal with it on your own. 

Ford tries to maintain his usual level of calm composure, but the sight of your exposed thigh makes it so much harder than he anticipated. He feels so conflicted, his thoughts are somewhere between concern, desire and disgusting guilt. He’s a scientist, an explorer, a goddamned professional, not some pathetic old man fantasising about—

“This is going to sting,” Ford warns, trying to not look at your underwear along with your exposed body parts. He can’t be the one to make you uncomfortable now, not when you’re already in pain. “I’ll try to be quick, but it will hurt. I won’t push it, but. . . you need to stay still.”

He avoids meeting your wide, doe-like, scared, no, more like nervous eyes. Those eyes had undone him countless times before, always so trusting, so impossibly soft, curious, full of life. He dies every time when you look at him like that.

“Yes, okay,” you answer, though you’re not sure if it’s for him or for you. He pours the disinfectant into a cotton pad and just as he prepares to press it to your skin, you tense. “Ford, please. . . be gentle, okay?”

“I will, if it’s too much just tell me.” Ford still doesn’t dare meet your eyes, not when he knows his own will betray him. Instead, he focuses on the wound, on the crimson smear of blood that trickles down your skin. But it’s not that damn injury he wants to fix, it’s you, all of you. He wants to be needed by you, to be the one who makes you whole again. 

Ford prepares himself and trying his best, he gently presses the cotton pad to your skin what makes you gasp, oh, sweet mercy, that voice of yours. It’s all he can do to stop himself from leaning in and capturing your lips in tender kiss, getting between your legs and taking you right there. He keeps going, though, his big hands too careful, like you’re made of porcelain. He doesn’t want to hurt you, never, but he just wishes he could be inside you right now, show you how much he’s desperate for you.

“Ahh! Ford, h-hurts!” your fingers are gripping his wrist so tight, nails digging in, and fuck, he shouldn’t be thinking this. You are hurt, in pain, for god’s sake, but all he can see is you beneath him, making those same sounds for an entirely different reason as he makes love to you.

“Shh, I know, I know it does. I know, but you have to let me do this. If I don’t, the wound could get infected. Tetanus, sepsis are not things to take lightly.”

Goddamn, why he’s so close to places he shouldn’t even be thinking about. You’re laying there so beautiful, helpless, voice pleading with him to stop, it’s driving Ford crazy. His cock twitches in his pants and he hates himself for it, hates how his mind creates an image of you crying out his name like that, begging him to keep going instead of to stop. 

He feels the throb in his chest, but in his groin too.

“N-no more, fuck, ugh!” obviously it’s a plea for mercy, but to his traitorous brain, it sounds like—

Ford frowns, looking way too serious than usual as he tries to make his dirty thoughts go away, tries to focus on the wound and not the way your skin feels, but goddamn why are you so soft and warm and why he’s so damn close to you. And then his gaze betrays him, lowering down to the curve of your inner thigh, so close to where the hem of your panties teases him mercilessly.

“That’s enough, please!” you begin, biting down on your lip as the pain grows.

“Don’t move too much, it’ll hurt more,” Ford’s tone sounds rougher than he meant to. “I’m almost done.” 

She’s in pain, you disgusting old idiot. She’s fucking suffering and you’re—

“Please, stop!” 

Ford freezes, stiffening. That’s enough, you’d said, but it’s not, it’s fucking not. It’s never enough. Not your skin, not your voice, not the way you cling to him, not the way you beg, not the way you look at him.

The cotton pad is soaked now in your blood too, pressing too hard against your skin before Ford even realises it. You wince, gasping again and Ford can't help it anymore. His eyes drop to your panties, how they hug your body and his cock twitches in his pants.

He’s a grown man. He should be able to handle this. But all he can see is you, laid out before him like this, looking at him with those needy eyes, begging him to take you, to fuck you.

“Just sit sti—” before he finishes his sentence, he unintentionally presses the cotton harder into your wound, too lost in his own fantasies and the sharp burst of pain makes you hiss so you move involuntarily, your leg jerking straight into his crotch and—

You feel it.

Your foot accidentally brushes against something unmistakably hard. You didn’t mean to move that way, absolutely. But the second your limb drags against him, you feel it. The hardness beneath his pants. His body reacting to you. To this.

And neither of you move.

Ford is first to speak.

“I— I’m sorry,” he blurts. “It’s a natural physiological response. Adrenaline, heightened states of focus, they can trigger. . . well, unintended reactions. Nothing to do with— nothing to do with you.”

The sharp pain in your thigh momentarily forgotten. “Physiological response?” you repeat. “Ford, are you seriously trying to explain away your. . . uh, situation with biology?”

“It’s not what you think. It’s involuntary. Biological. A man’s body doesn’t always obey his mind. It doesn’t mean anything.”

He sounds so awkward, so flustered and you don’t know what to think. He’s not usually like this. . . well, not around you. Around you, he’s always so collected, always the smart, serious, intellectual Stanford Pines who wouldn’t bat an eye at anything that didn’t involve research.

You try to click pieces together, processing. He feels something for you. That’s the only explanation. He wouldn’t be this flustered, this desperate to excuse himself, if he didn’t.

And now you know. Ford’s just as human as the rest of us. And he wants you, too.

You move again, brushing your leg against him again and Ford wants to die because he makes the loudest surprised gasp in the room. “Doesn’t mean anything, huh?” you ask innocently. “so if I just move like this—” you press just a little firmer, feeling him growing harder. “it’s still just biology. Nothing to do with me at all?”

He’s silent.

“Ford, Is that. . . is that really how you feel?”

He sighs and darts his hand out to grip your leg to stop your teasing. “Don’t,” he warns, saying your name. His eyes meet yours for the first time all evening. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

His eyes stay locked on yours. You’re silent now too.

“Don’t— don’t look at me like that. You don’t understand. I. . . shouldn’t have let it go this far.”

But you do understand, more than he could ever realise.

“But why?” your foot slides all over his hard clothed length and Ford’s body responds with his needy cock twitching at your touch.

“This isn’t funny,” he bites out. “this isn’t a game. I’m not a young man, im not— I’m not what you need.”

“You don’t get to decide what I need, Ford.”

“But you’re too young—”

“Stop treating me like I’m some kid who doesn’t know what she wants. I’m an adult, Ford, an adult!”

“An adult?” he repeats, while your foot is still rubbing over his very obvious bulge. “an adult who can't even get dressed normally for the weather?”

You grin, leaning closer to his face. “uh-huh. And here you are, all worked up over me, right?” you press on his cock harder and Ford nearly finishes in his pants. 

He grabs your ankle, even though he doesn’t push you away.

“This. . . now this is inappropriate.”

You rolls your foot over his bulge what makes hips buck just slightly. You bite your lip, grinning at how badly he’s losing control.

“You’re a fucking hypocrite, you know that?” you lean closer and murmur into his mouth. “you’re so worried about what I can handle, but look at you. You’re the one who’s hard as rock right now, who can’t control himself.”

“Enough, I’m serious, stop.”

“Make me.”

That’s all it takes. It’s your smirk that gets him, your teasing voice, your dirty remarks, even as you’re sprawled out on the bed with that horrible wound on your thigh.

Ford is on you in a second. His mouth crashes against yours and you don’t even realise what’s happening yet. His kiss is messy and needy, like he’s trying to consume you whole. And you give yourself to him completely, your body melting into his. Every surprised gasp of yours is swallowed by him, his big hands gripping your face as he deepens the kiss. It’s so messy, the way Ford literally fucks your mouth with his tongue.

And you can’t help but tug at his clothes, dragging him closer until he’s on top of you. Ford’s weight presses into you and your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling at it as your body presses against his, your heart pounding so hard you swear he can hear it too. Ford is barely restraining himself from ripping off the rest of your clothes, that oversized T-shirt and panties, and fucking you right here, making all his fantasies come true, which he wrote down in his journal.

His mouth devours yours like he’s starved for you, his hands yanking you closer like he’s holding on for dear life. You let him claim you, let his kiss swallow every thought in your head until there’s nothing left but him, just him, him, him, him. You’re drunk on the way he feels. His hands are everywhere, pulling and tugging at you like he’s losing control. And oh god, you feel it.

You can’t get enough of it. You want more.

Ford is too lost so he lets six-fingered hand slip lower, brushing the side of your thigh and then it lands right where it shouldn’t.

Your fresh wound.

You gasp in pain, breaking the kiss.

“Damn,” Ford instantly pulls away, and his hand is next to your wound, concern and fear are visible on his face. “i’m sorry, i didn’t—”

“Fuck it,” you interrupt, pulling him closer. “worry about that later. I need you now. Please, Ford, just kiss me again.”

But looks like Ford is interested in your wound more than in kiss now.

He’s already inspecting the bandage, ignoring your begging, his brows furrowed with guilt. “i wasn’t thinking, im sorry, does it hurt? did i—”

Why men are so stupid, you think and grab his chin, forcing him to look at you, but he talks first.

“Let me—” he clears his throat, blinking before continuing. “no, let me bandage your leg. We need to, uh, stop the bleeding.”

“Ford,” you groan. “It’s fine. It’s not even that bad now.”

“Not that bad?” he looks you with a glare that’s somehow equal parts concern and anger. “that’s not how infections work, young lady. You could lose a limb if this festers.”

You groan in frustration, rolling your eyes, but he’s already kneeling in front of you. “This is really what you’re worried about right now?” you drawl, raising your brow.

“Yes, this is what I’m worried about.”

And here he is again, between your legs, his hands are still careful as they work, bandaging your inner thigh. Ford is trying so hard not to look at the very place he’s so devastatingly close to. He pulls the knot of the bandage just too tight what makes you let out the softest, unintentional moan.

“You— you cannot make noises like that right now. Stop making this harder than it already is.”

The corners of your lips curl and you lean back on your palms, unbothered. “Says the man who’s between my legs right now.”

“You got a point,” Ford lifts his brows as he clicks his tongue, shaking his head with a rueful grin. “clever girl.”

When he finally finishes tying off the bandage, he proudly looks at the work he done and pulls away, wait, pulls away? However, you don’t let him get far. Your hands drag him back down with a force that surprises him and maybe yourself.

The kiss you pull him into is anything but delicate. It’s urgent and hungry. Ford groans against you as if you’ve stolen the last bit of air he had left. Your fingers fist the fabric at his shoulders and when he tilts his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue sweeps over your bottom lip. 

“Been waiting for this,” you confess between gasps. “Ford, I need you.” 

His forehead presses against yours. “You think I don’t? I’ve needed you. God, you have no idea. You drive me insane.”  

“Need you,” you breathe, arching up into him. “Ford, please. . . need you so bad.” he swallows your words with another passionate kiss, this one deeper, slower. His teeth catch your bottom lip, pulling a whimper from you that goes straight to his cock.

His lips trail lower, pressing kisses along the curve of your jaw, the slope of your neck. His teeth graze against your skin making you shiver because you feel like on damn fire, so sensitive for him.

“Ford, ah,” you breathe, tilting your head to give him more room as his kisses grow bolder, hungrier. He’s so desperate he can’t seem to stop himself, mouthing at your collarbone, your throat, anywhere he can reach while he mutters how beautiful you are.

Your hand trembles as it finds his, wrapping around his wrist and guiding him down. “Ford, please, touch me there,” you whimper against his lips now, spreading your thighs apart to make space. “need you. . . need your fingers, your hand, please.”

Ford hesitates at first, as if he doesn't fully believe what he sees in front of him, the object of his fantasies, his clever girl, which he wrote about in his journal, right beneath him, begging for his touch, for his love. It seems like his genius brain cannot comprehend what is happening yet.

Finally his hand moves, two fingers, one extra, rubbing you through the fabric of your panties and the sound that leaves your mouth sounds like a desperate needy sob. His forehead drops against yours as his fingers press against the dampness pooling there.

“You’re so wet,” Ford drags his thumb slowly over your clit. “is this all for me?”

“Yes, yes, all for you,” you gasp, writhing under his touch, bucking your hips up into his hand. “only you, Ford— fuck, just keep touching me, please, need more— need you. . .”

“I know,” he mutters, kissing you hard enough to steal the words from your tongue. “i know, sweetheart, i know.”

Ford’s fingers tugs your panties to the side and you both groan when he finally touches you bare. You squirm, swaying your hips to grind against his hand and he curses again, moving his lips to your neck, kissing and nipping as if he can’t stand being apart from you for even a second.

“Y-you’re driving me insane,” he breathes. “been dreaming about this, you have no idea, been wanting you for so long.”  

“Good,” you manage a weak smile, whimpering when he circles your clit with his thumb. You curl your nails into his shoulders. “then fucking do something about it.”

Stanford groans at your words, his cock twitches, begging to be taken care of, but his pleasure doesn’t matter now. You’re so hungry for his touch and Ford needs to touch you badly, so he slips his fingers through your folds, caressing you while still rubbing your clit in torturous circles. “like this? does this, does this feel good?”  

“Yes, yes, oh my god! more, more, give me more,” you cry when he sinks one finger into you, curling it just right.

“God, I wanna—” but he cuts himself off when his eyes notices that damn bandage on your leg.

“What?” you question and press a light kiss to his cheek, your eyes searching his face. “what do you want?” 

“You,” he admits. “I want to be inside you, want to feel you around me, want to, b-but you’re hurt, and I— fuck, I can’t, I can’t risk it.” 

You whine, your head falling back as his fingers keep moving, sliding in and out of your pussy, brushing against that spot that makes you see stars. “don’t care,” your thighs clenching around his hand. “i don’t care, just need you, need your cock— fuck, please!”

“Please, don’t say that, don’t say that when I can’t give it to you.”  

“Ford, please, I need it! I’ll be fine, I swear—”  

“No, you’re hurt, this is all i can give you right now. . . but i swear, I swear i’ll make it up to you, honey, when you’re better, when you’re not hurt, i’ll—” his fingers thrust deeper into your wetness with his thumb circling your clit in time and you interrupt him with loud cry.

“Ford! please, just don’t stop, please don’t stop—”

Ford nods and watches you. Letting his fingers curl inside you, penetrating deeper into your pussy. His movements growing more confident as your body reacts to him, your beautiful moans spurring him on. His lips find yours again and you both get lost in the kiss, in the way your breaths mix, in the way your bodies press together like you’re trying to fuse into one.

Your moan breaks into a cry as you arch your back, eyes closed tight when Ford’s fingers pumping into you faster, your spongy walls tightening around his digits. Oh fucking heaven, that extra finger feels too good. “Ford, please! oh, god— fuck, you’re gonna make me—”  

“That’s it,” Ford’s lips trail up to your ear, kissing and biting it as he presses his thumb on your sensitive bundle. “let me take care of you, sweetheart, cum for me.”  

His tone and praise is what sends you on edge as you clench around his fingers, moaning his name and cumming while his fingers, slower, but still thrusting into you. You feel so weak and tired, but your Ford is right there to catch you, whispering soft praises into your hair as you shake in his arms.

Ford’s fingers still buried deep inside you as he watches you come down from your high. And it’s so obvious that he putted your needs before his own because his cock, hard as a rock now, strains against the fabric of his pants, creating the most painful bulge you ever seen. He shifts awkwardly, hoping maybe you won’t notice but you do. Oh, you do.

“Ford,” your voice sounds honeyed as you regain your strength. Your gaze drops pointedly to the tent in his pants. “you’re. . . so hard.”

His face flushes and he tries to pull away, to create some distance between you, but you grab his wrist, stopping him.

“Don’t,” you whisper softly. “don’t hide from me. you’ve been so good to me, let me. . . let me do something for you.”

“No,” he says quickly. “you’re hurt. I can’t, you need to rest.”

“Just look at you, you’re aching. You don’t have to do anything to me, just let me help.”

“Oh my god,” he says your name as if ready to scold you. “you’re impossible, you know,” but his shaky hands move to his belt anyway, unsure, like he’s warring with himself even as he undoes it.

“Yeah?” you lean back. “you’re about to jerk off in front of me, Ford, what does that make you?”

Ford cant find any smart or logical response to that because you’re absolutely right, he’s the mess here, the impossible one, the desperate old man. He takes a breath, finally pulling his cock free and fuck, he’s so hard as if he’s going to explode, the head flushed and leaking.

Ford’s cock is already in his hand, the first strokes making him whimper under his breath. His other hand rests on your thigh, fingers nervously flex like he’s desperate to touch more of you, to hold you, to worship you properly like his clever girl deserves, but he’s so lost in this intimate moment, in you, that he can barely think straight.

You’re watching him, trying to control yourself because if you won’t, you might just jump on him and you can't vouch for yourself. 

You’re sprawled out in front of him like a dream come to life: t-shirt rucked up, legs spread, panties pushed to the side, leaving your pretty glistening pussy on full display for his starved gaze. Fuck, you look so hot like that, from everything he’s already done to you. He’s trying not to stare and you think he’s so silly when it’s specially show made only for him, so you shift your hips just enough to catch his attention, drawing his eyes like a magnet.

“Touch yourself for me. Show me how much you want me.” your eyes locked on him, drinking in the sight of his hand moving over his length.

Ford’s chest heaves, his hand grips his cock, which is twitching and flushed an angry red at the tip. But looks like poor old man can’t even jerk himself off properly, so you reach your hand out to brush against his wrist.

“Here,” you purr, guiding his hand with your smaller one, wrapping your fingers around his, forcing him to stroke himself teasingly. At that, Ford’s hips jerk up into your shared grip, and you hum approvingly, watching as his lips part in a groan. “yes, like this, honey. Let me help you.” 

“S-sweetheart. . . you don’t— ah— you don’t have to—”

“But I want to,” you lean back against the bed, shifting your hips, making sure he has the perfect view of your soaked, glistening slit. “Don’t hold back, i want you to feel good.”

Ford lets himself get a bit more vocal as he groans, his hips buck into your joined hands and his cock twitches against your palm. He’s so fucking hard, leaking against your skin, and the sounds he makes as he strokes himself are too good to be true, yet here he is, in front of you, jerking himself off, moaning your name. 

“You. . . o-oh god, sweetheart, you’re incredible,” he whines as you guide his hand again, showing him exactly how to squeeze, how to work himself the way you know he needs it. Meanwhile his other hand braces against the mattress near your head, his knuckles white as he struggles to keep himself together.  

“You’re so big, Ford,” your eyes glued to his dick, watching every move with hungry fascination. “you’re so handsome, so beautiful. I could look at you all night.”

He groans at your praise, more pathetic this time, his forehead dropping forward as he stares at where your bodies almost meet. “Christ, you’re gonna ruin me, love.” that’s when his strokes falter for and you take over completely, your warm hand wrapping around his length and pumping him up and down.

“Keep going,” you urge, feeling yourself getting wetter too. “i can’t stop thinking about how good you’d feel inside me. id take all of you, id make you feel so good, Ford. I need you, all of you.” soft whisper into his lips while all Ford can do is fuck your hand pathetically, your thumb sweeping over his tip, smearing the slick there.

Ford digs his fingers into your thigh, trembling. “Don’t— oh god, don’t say that,” he gasps. His eyes are locked on your opening, on the way your arousal glistens, your folds so wet and swollen and inviting.

“Don’t you want to touch me? Don’t you want to feel how wet i am for you?”

“God, I do,” he breathes as his hand joins again, moving together with yours, faster, jerking himself off faster. “I want you so much it hurts. I’d do anything. . . anything for you.”

“Then come for me,” you whisper, reaching out to thread your fingers into his hair when you kiss the corners of his parted trembling lips.

“I can’t— oh god, sweetheart, I can’t hold on much longer.” thick ropes of his cum spills across your thighs and even stomach, marking your skin as he makes a mess of himself. His hot seed drips down over your hand where you keep stroking and caressing him, milking every last drop forcing whines and mewls from him.

He collapses forward after and buries his face against your shoulder. 

“I need you so badly,” he murmurs into your skin. “you don’t know how much I want you. You don’t know what you do to me.”

You hum softly, threading your fingers through his damp hair as you press a tender kiss on his forehead.

***

It’s morning and sweet scent of batter and syrup fills the air. The noise and conversations are coming from the kitchen and there’s only one explanation for the chaos: Stanley is cooking “stancakes.”  

You’re by his side, propped against the counter, balancing on your good leg, watching Stan cook. Spatula in one hand, the other parked on his hip and he radiates confidence, as if he is ready to host his own cooking show.

“Now listen up, kid,” he says in a voice full of pride. “these are world-famous stancakes. they’ve been called ‘edible’ by at least two people, well, three, if you don’t count the pig.”  

“Oh.”  

“Oh” he repeats, incredulous, spinning to face you with mock offense. “don’t tell me you’ve never had stancakes before?!”  

You grin, shaking your head. “not once. I think Ford’s been keeping them all to himself.”  

Stan looks like you’ve just offended him.  

“That’s practically a felony in this house! what, Ford never mentioned ‘em? selfish bastard.”  

You laugh softly.

“but i gotta ask,” Stan continues. “any allergies to elbow grease? or, uh, whatever was at the bottom of the flour jar. pretty sure it was flour. maybe. . .” he winks and you roll your eyes, however the conversation continues good and friendly between you. 

Your hand rests on the counter for balance and you look down, at the faint tug of the bandage around your leg, which works as reminder of the night before. Memories of Ford’s hands, his mouth, the way he moaned your name, how he touched you, heat your cheeks until you force yourself to focus on Stan.  

His spatula waves in your direction again. “so, what’s the story with yer leg? take a tumble down the stairs, or was it somethin’ spooky out there in the woods?”  

You give him a wide smile. “let’s just say it’s a story. remind me to tell you later.”

Stan raises a brow curiously, but he doesn’t push. Instead, he turns back to his stancakes with a grunt. “hmph, fair enough. just glad you didn’t end up worse. Y’know, if ya ever need lessons on landing on yer feet—”  

Before he can finish, his brother steps into the room and you immediately turn your gaze to him. Honestly, he looks like he’s spent the entire night replaying everything. 

“Ah, there you are,” Ford murmurs when his gaze finds you, then he clears his throat and nods to his twin. “good morning, Stanley.”  

Stan doesn’t miss a beat, gesturing with his spatula. “yeah, mornin’, sixer. Yer just in time for the best damn pancakes this side of the multiverse.”  

At that, Ford’s lips curve into a polite smile as he glances at his brother. “that’s good to hear.” then his focus changes, locking entirely on you. His intonation changes into something warmer as he speaks your name. “would you mind if i borrowed you for a moment? just for a quick talk.”  

You nod a little too eagerly. “sure, of course.”  

Stanley lets out a dramatic sigh, waving his spatula at Ford. “don’t keep her too long, poindexter. She’s gotta try these pancakes before they go cold!” 

Ford leads you to his study and you follow, heart thundering in your chest. You’re grinning like an idiot, barely containing your excitement. He’s finally going to say something, but you’re so fucking ready to hear, to discuss, to scream the loudest “YES” when he’ll ask you to be his girlfriend.

When the door clicks shut behind you, he turns and you finally see his face. He’s always so serious, just like right now. But what did you wait? It’s Ford Pines, it’s his normal state. However, you’re so excited you sure he can see the way you’re literally glowing.

You really try to act casual, but inside, you’re absolutely going insane, nervous, happy, excited at the same time. Last night still feels like a fever dream, you can feel the ghost of his touch on your skin, the heat of his body against yours, the way his fingers slid so perfectly into you. . . 

And now he’s here, just the two of you, and you’re hoping he’ll finally acknowledge the thing that happened between you.

But then he opens his mouth.

“So, about the anomaly. . .” he begins and the words hit you like a slap.  

No, no. No no no. Are you hearing this right?That’s what he’s leading with?! After everything that happened last night, he’s just. . . no, he’s talking about the damn anomaly like he didn’t just leave you trembling with the memory of his fingers inside you. 

Your smile falters fucking immediately, your shoulders stiffening as he goes on, completely oblivious to the storm of disappointment brewing inside you.  

“I’ve been reviewing the notes I took last week. If my calculations are correct, the creature’s molecular structure—”

What the actual fuck.

Your jaw clenches. You stare at him, thinking it’s some kind of joke. He’s talking about science. Fucking science. After everything that happened, this is what he wants to talk about? He’s here, rambling about molecules and rain like none of it ever happened.  

You can’t stand it. The frustration takes over you.

“Ford,” you hiss as you shove him back against the wall.

His eyes widen in surprise, but you don’t let him speak. You press your palms flat against his chest, pinning him there, your voice shaking with anger. All you can think about is how he’s standing there like some fucking genius, talking about molecules and data when last night, you’d literally devoured each other.  

“Are you kidding me? This is what you wanted to talk about? You’re seriously standing here, talking about anomalies and notes like last night didn’t fucking happen?”

For a second, he just looks at you, his face calm and that makes you practically vibrate with rage, the intensity of your emotions making your head spin.  

And then. . . he smirks.  

The bastard smirks.

“I wasn’t aware we had plans to debrief, sweetheart,” your fingers tighten against his chest and he raises a brow, clearly amused by your reaction. “Though I must admit, you’re surprisingly strong for someone with an injured leg. Should I be worried?”

Your face burns as you glare up at him. “Ford, don’t you dare—”

“Well?” his gaze piercing through you. “What is it you want me to say, sweetheart?”

His fucking teasing is driving you crazy.  

“Are you seriously just gonna pretend like it didn’t happen? That you didn’t— god, Ford—"

“Pretend? Oh, but don’t get ahead of yourself.

I think you’ve got a lot more to say about what happened than you’re letting on, huh?”

Your cheeks burn hotter than they ever have before. You didn’t expect that. You really didn’t.

“Are you seriously gonna tease me about last night? You’re unbelievable,” you mutter, but you’re so worked up now that you don’t even care. You push yourself closer, getting right up in his space, your chest touching his, and now you’re just fuming.

“I’m the one who teases you? Interesting. . .” he leans to your face, brushing his lips against your ear. “What else did I do to you that made you so worked up last night? I didn’t think I was that good with my hands.”

“You bastard.” you hiss as you pin him against the wall harder.

He tilts his head at your words. “Careful, love, I wouldn’t want you to strain that leg of yours again. Especially not after I spent so much time taking care of you last night.”

Your breath catches in your throat. The nerve of this man! You want to slap him, to push him away, but instead, you pull him closer

“You better watch yourself, Ford.” You give him a dangerous smile. “You think you can just pay with me like this? You’re not as clever as you think.”

Ford’s smirk widens. “Oh? You think you’ve got the upper hand? I’ve got you pinned right where I want you, sweetheart.”

And then his hand trails down your arm to your waist. 

“And if you’re still mad, I can think of a few ways to work out that frustration.”

Your body goes cold and hot all at once, and it takes everything in you not to melt into him. 

Ford is still against the wall where you pushed him, calm as ever, obviously enjoying every second of this, he thinks he’s the one in control.  

Your pulse hammers in your ears, your hands trembling against the chest of his sweater. He’s so warm, and god, you hate that even now, even while you’re mad at him, you can’t stop remembering the way he looked last night. The way he sounded when he let himself fall apart under your touch. 

“You’re insufferable. Worse than Stan.”

“Am I? Because from where I’m standing, you’re the one pinning me to a wall. Quite forcefully, might I add. It’s a little ironic, don’t you think? Considering how you were. . . what’s the term? Begging for me last night?”

Your jaw drops.  

“Begging? You think I was begging for you?”

Ford looks entirely too pleased with himself. “Well, I seem to recall a certain. . . eagerness on your part. Particularly when—”

“You don’t get to talk about my eagerness.” you cut him off, your cheeks flaming. “Not when you were the one moaning my name like your life depended on it.”

That shuts him up.

His smirk falters slightly, and you see the faintest hint of red creeping up his neck. Oh. Oh. Fucking finally. You’ve got him now.  

“That’s right. Stanford Pines, world-renowned genius, reduced to a trembling mess because I—” and to kill him for sure, you lean in to whisper into his lips. “jerked you off.”

Ford goes completely still.  

There’s nothing but silence. His genius mind working, his lips parting slightly like he wants to say something, but no words come out. His face is a mess of conflicting emotions, embarrassment, frustration and something you can’t quite place but looks suspiciously like agreement.

“Got nothing to say now, huh?” you tease, grinning like an absolute maniac. “What happened to all that confidence, Professor?”

“Well played.”

***

Life at the mystery shack doesn’t feel much different, not outwardly. Stan still grumbles about the bills, the tourists still gawk at the exhibits, and Ford. . . Ford is still Ford, except now he’s yours.  

Yours.  

The nights are quieter between you both, more intimate, full of moans and groans, petting and foreplay. Like last night, when his clever hands had slipped beneath the waistband of your pajama pants, his soft and needy voice told you he wanted to make you feel good.  

God, he did. You’d come on his fingers so good, trembling as he whispered your name and called you his good girl, while kissing your cheeks, wiping your tears of pleasure away. And he’d let you touch him too while your hand worked up and down on his pulsing cock and then he spilled against your skin, while you silenced him with a kiss.

No, it actually feels good, really. It’s better than nothing, than not touching him at all, but. . . you crave, you need something else. Something that is not just his fingers, mouth, or hands.

Ford is so careful, so cautious about your stupid leg, his gentle excuses about your injury making you want to scream into a pillow. Like, yeah, it still hurts sometimes, but you can walk, run, pin him against a wall, fuck him six ways to sunday if he’d just let you.  

Ford has his own fears, even if he won’t admit them outright.

But you’re not afraid. 

The woods, your anomaly huntings, are different now too. More dangerous, you’d say. 

You’re pressed against a tree as Ford’s mouth claims yours. His hands are everywhere, gripping your waist, sliding up under your clothes, pulling you closer, closer, like he can’t get enough.  

“Ford, aah, please,” you whimper, pulling him down to kiss you deeper. His knee nudges between your thighs, pressing against you and you swear you’re about to melt into a puddle right there in the dirt.  

“Quiet, sweetheart, don’t want the whole forest knowing how desperate you are for me.”  

But it’s him. . . it’s fucking him who’s desperate, dropping to his knees to pull your pants down just enough, fingers slipping into your panties to find you already soaking.  

“So wet already, holy multiverse,” and then his fingers are inside your pussy as he presses kisses to your thighs and stomach.

But you need to touch him too. Your hands are on him again, tugging at his belt, fumbling with the button of his pants. His cock is hard when you pull him free and you stroke him until he’s shaking, gasping against your neck.  

“My love, i’m gonna—” his hips jerks into your hand as he cums, splashing his hot and thick seed all over your fingers. But he doesn’t stop,  his own six fingered hand working you until you finish with a strangled cry, pussy clenching around him as you nearly fall, when he catches you, whispering how beautiful you are.

You both collapse against each other, sticky and hot, despite coldness of autumn, grinning like idiots. And then Ford leans in to kiss you again, like he’s already planning the next round.  

At dinner, it’s you who starts it.  

Your leg brushes his teasingly under the table that has him choking on his water. Stanley doesn’t notice, too busy ranting about some tourist who tried to haggle over a snow globe, but Ford shoots you a warning look.

You just smile sweetly while also agreeing with Stan about his tourist speech as you press your foot higher until you’re brushing against the hard line of his length beneath the table.  

The lab is worse.

He’s sitting at his desk, scribbling in his journal with you perched on his lap, your arms around his shoulders, your hips rocking against his as you kiss the side of his neck.  

“You’re distracting me,” says fucking Ford with his hands on your hips, guiding your movements as his already hard cock strains against his pants.  

“Good,” you kiss his cheek, grinding down harder, feeling him twitching beneath you.

But every time you try to push it further, every time you reach for him, ask for more, he stops you.  

“Your leg,” but it sounds like he’s trying to convince himself as much as you.  

“But i’m fine—”  

“No,” he interrupts, shaking his head. “i’m not risking it, not yet.”  

***

The November crisp air bites at your skin. The faint smoky warmth of the fire crackling in the yard. Well. . . It was Stanley's idea to do this, he said something about rekindling childhood memories, family bonding and roasting marshmallows like it was summer camp, but he's not here. Something about a "quick run to the diner for pie" turned into him being away for whole evening, leaving you and Ford alone under a shining starry sky.

“You know, for a guy with six fingers, you’re surprisingly bad at this,” you tease, leaning back on your hands as you watch Stanford squint at the marshmallow impaled on his skewer. It's already starting to charred, the edges curling into blackened flakes as the fire devours it. “do they not teach you how to roast marshmallows in the multiverse, professor?”

Ford chuckles softly at your words. “Oh, excuse me, but i’ll have you know i’ve mastered much more complex techniques than this primitive. . .” the marshmallow slides clean off the stick and lands with a soft plop into the embers. Ford stares at it, annoyed. “cooking method.”

You can’t help how cute he looks so you laugh. “You’re hopeless,” you brush your shoulder against his, smiling. “here, let me show you.” Ford nods, handing you the stick. “first rule,” you skewer a new marshmallow. “don’t hold it so close to the flame. you want it golden, not a cremation. You’ve gotta keep it turning. Patiently, like this.” you rotate the stick slowly and Ford actually watches, his gaze is not on the fire, but on you. 

“i see,” he says thoughtfully. “golden, not charred.”

“Exactly,” you let marshmallow toast evenly. “you just have to—” you glance up to check on him and Ford’s still watching you. It steals the breath from your lungs and you gulp awkwardly. “. . . focus,” you finish a little quieter. “why you’re looking at me like that?” you smile.

Ford laughs. “maybe in some universe, you do dress appropriately for the weather?” 

You blink at him, thrown off for a second, before realising. Oh. . . oh, right. Your teeth chatter slightly, fingers cold and you’re shaking slightly, it’s so obvious. “i guess no?”

Ford doesn’t even dignify that with a response. Instead, he’s already shrugging out of his coat and draping it over your shoulders before you can protest, but it’s not like you wanted to anyways. His trench coat is heavy and smells just like him and your smile couldn't get any wider.

“Thanks, again. . . heh,” you try to sound nonchalant, but the coat is still warm from him and you clutch it around you tighter.

“So, you were saying?” Stanford prompts, tilting his head toward the marshmallow in your hand.

You clear your throat. “Right, uh, where was i? oh, yeah. so, you’ll know it’s ready when it’s this perfect golden brown all over, not a single—”  

“Give me a kiss,” Ford says suddenly, interrupting you like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You’re not sure who leans in first. You, probably, but he meets you halfway. Ford’s lips are warm, so soft against yours. Your heart stutters in your chest as blood rushes in your ears, one of his hands comes up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing feather-light against your cheek. Your hands find his chest, fingertips pressing into his sweater as you you sigh into him.

The kiss deepens, not hurried, but like you’ve both waited far too long for this moment. Ford leans into your touch like he’s been craving it just as much as you. 

When you finally pull back, he rests his forehead against yours and none of you speak, both quiet and only fire is crackling softly beside you.  

“I think i might be terrible at marshmallows.” Ford smiles shyly.

You blink at him, you lips still tingling from the kiss, your head feeling too light to even process his words at first. Oh god the whole moment so tender, so beautiful, so intimate it almost makes you want to cry. 

“Ford,” and he hums softly in response.

“Hmm?”

“Give me another.”

Ford doesn’t need to be told twice.  

This time, it’s you who closes the distance, but his lips crash into yours like he’s been waiting, holding himself back and now he simply can’t. His hand slides to the back of your neck as the kiss deepens, hotter, hungrier. You sigh into his mouth, your knees going weak beneath you, but Ford steadies you, holds you.

His coat slips off one of your shoulders as your arms wind around his neck, pulling him closer, closer, closer until there’s no space left, and even then, it doesn’t feel close enough.  

“Ford—” you manage to groan against his lips and he pulls back just slightly.

“What is it?” the way he’s looking at you, fuck, like he’s already undressing you in his mind, makes you feel dizzy.  

You pause, staring at him, at the mess of his hair, the faint flush dusting his cheeks, the way his lips are already red from kissing you. This man. This ridiculous, brilliant, beautiful man.  

“My leg,” you feel nervous out of sudden, afraid he might reject you again. “it’s— it’s healed now, you know. . . i can— i can handle more.”  

Ford freezes, thinking. And then. . . Oh.

He kisses you again, but this time it’s different, this time, there’s no holding back, no careful hesitation.

"Inside," your voice is trembling with anticipation. "please, Ford, let’s go inside."  

And god help you both, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to say no. 

***

Ford’s whole body is pressing you into the mattress as though he’s trying to meld you both into one. His hands grip the sheets beside your head and he’s so warm against you. He kisses you messily and desperately, too eager.

“Ford, please,” you whimper, lifting your hips and grinding up against his hard, pulsing length.

“Yes, Ive got you, I’ve got you,” his own voice trembling as one hand dives down, gripping your hip, trying to keep you still but failing miserably because he can’t stop himself from rutting into you. “im right here, my love, i’m gonna take care of you.” the bed creaks beneath the weight of both of you, but neither of you can hear it over the needy moans you two share.

You can’t stop the high pitched whine that escapes you as his knee slots between your thighs, pressing against you just right and you swear you’re losing your fucking mind. “Nngh, Ford, Ford, please,” your voice so fucking needy it feels embarrassing. 

Ford stops, just for a second, pulling back to take a good look at you. His eyes are blown wide, pupils black as they devour every little expression you make. “tell me, tell me what you need.”  

You nearly cry. “touch me,” you plead.

“Oh sweetheart, my good girl,” his trembling fingers brush the hem of your clothes, slipping underneath to glide against your skin, being so careful like you’re too delicate, too fragile for him, he’s afraid you’ll shatter if he’s not gentle. “i’m not going anywhere,” he promises, dragging his lips down your jaw, going lower to the sensitive skin of your neck. “i love you so much.” and before you can even think to respond, his mouth is on yours again, swallowing your moans because he’s desperate to consume every single piece of you. 

Oh, sweet fucking hell, you think when Ford lowers himself between your thighs looking like a man on his knees at an altar and you’re the goddess he’s about to worship. He spreads your legs wide, his six-fingered hands curling into the plush of your thighs and he just stares for a moment like he’s seeing heaven itself. His lips part, and his tongue darts out to wet them, the hunger in his gaze as if he can’t believe this is real.  

"My love," he groans. "so pretty, you’re so pretty. . . this is all mine, isn’t it? tell me, sweetheart, say it, say it’s all for me."  

“It’s yours, Ford,” you melt under his gaze, feeling so exposed and he hums in approval. 

“Good girl,” and then he dips his head down, brushing his lips against your inner thigh, kissing your healed wound. 

You grow impatient with every second, and fucking finally, he’s right here, his face hovering over your throbbing pussy which needs his attention so bad, and he takes a deep breath. 

Ford presses a kiss just above where you’re all wet and your hips jolt, seeking more.

“F-Ford! fuuck. . . fuck fuck fuck!” 

“Shh, just like that, i’ll take care of you,” he presses one hand firmly on your pelvis to keep you still. “just relax, darling, let me have you.”

You’re too far gone to even respond coherently, only letting out pathetic whimper as he drags his lips lower and lower until his warm mouth hovers right over your soaked folds.

His tongue presses flat against your pussy, slowly and oh fuck, you taste so damn sweet, Ford growls and that vibrates straight through you. “oh, god," he pants, pulling back before diving in again, "you taste. . . you taste so good, so sweet, like you were made for me." Ford’s voice muffled against you as his tongue flattens, dragging through your slick, tasting you. 

His hands grip your thighs tighter to hold your squirming body in place as he tilts his head to get a better angle. His lips seal around your puffy clit, sucking gently at first, then harder when your hips jerk up into his face. He holds you open because he’s not letting you go anywhere, his tongue flicks over that sensitive bundle of nerves until you’re sobbing his name.  

“Ford. . . oh god! Ford, too much—!” 

You’re trembling and panting as his tongue circles your little clit in soft lazy strokes that have your back arching off the mattress. You fist your fingers into the sheets as his lips seal around your sensitive clit, sucking gently before releasing you with a soft, wet pop.

“Taste so good,” Ford says more than all to himself. He licks into you now, dragging his wet tongue through your soft folds, lapping up everything you’re giving him like a man possessed. “g-give me more, darling, please. . . i need more of you.”

“Ford, Ford! Ford, i—” you buck your hips against his face as the wet sounds of his mouth on you fill the room.

“Mmhm, that’s it, sweetheart,” his voice muffled against your cunt as his lips brushes your clit, letting his fingers slide lower to tease your dripping entrance. “just let me make you feel good.”

Ford pulls back just enough to gasp for air, his lips and chin shiny with your slick and you swear he looks drunk, eyes glassy and pupils blown wide. “you taste so good,” he groans, diving back in immediately, never having enough, moving his mouth against you like he’s kissing you there, sloppily, noisily and so damn messy.

You’re not damn ready for what comes next. When his fingers finally slip inside, you nearly scream, two of them, then three with his extra middle one sliding into your soaked pussy, while another circles your clit, working in perfect tandem with his tongue. "so tight, so wet for me," his voice muffled as he sucks your clit into his mouth again. "give it to me, sweetheart. . . let me have it, be a good girl for me, yeah?"  

His pace quickens as your walls flutter around his fingers. But he doesn’t stop, not even when you’re writhing and tears streaming down your cheeks from the pleasure. He licks, sucks and slurps at you, addicted to the way you taste, the way you feel. “Ford, I’m gonna cum—”  

You cry out and jerk your hips against his face as you do. He growls, gripping you tighter, holding you still as his mouth moves faster, hungrier. Your walls spasming around his long fingers, your clit pulsing between his lips.

But Ford’s mouth doesn’t lift and doesn’t slow, even when your thighs tremble and your fingers push weakly at his hair to tug him away.

“No, Ford, please,” you gasp as he sucks your clit into his mouth, rolling his tongue against it in slow circles. “i-i can’t— too much. . . im sensitive, Ford—”  

But he doesn’t give a fuck, his grip tightens on your thighs to keep them spread wide. “Just one more, sweetheart,” his words slurred, drunk off the taste of you. “please-please, i need. . . one more, just one more for me.”  

You can’t hold back the loud cry that escapes you as his tongue dives back in, licking and lapping. Your legs jerk, trying to close, but his strong hands keep them locked open. “don’t fight me, let me, let me have you.”

“Ford, oh god—” your voice is broken as his tongue works all over your pussy, it’s overwhelming and unbearable, your entire body feels like a live wire as he devours you, never giving you a moment to recover.  

“that’s it, love, cum for me, please. . . be a good girl and cum on my face.”  

And you do again, god, you do, because there’s no stopping it. Your orgasm crashes over you again, ripping a scream from your throat as your back arches off the bed. Your vision whites out, your mind blank as your release floods through you.  

Ford moans into you as you come, his mouth latched onto your clit, his tongue lapping up every drop. When you start caressing his hair as if thanking him, he presses wet sloppy kisses to your trembling thighs. 

You’re still shaking and gasping for air, when he finally lifts his head, his chin glistening as he stares down at you and smiles. But you still can’t have enough, not satisfied, not when he haven’t been inside you and fucked you properly, you’ve been craving this for months and you totally go for it now. “Please, need you, Ford, please, i need you inside me.”  

He doesn’t even make any excuses this time when he kneels between your legs, his cock flushed and throbbing, the head slick with pearls of precum. “you sure?” is all he asks as his hands come up to cradle your hips.

“Yes, god, yes,” you plead, spreading your legs wider, your eyes glazed with need. “please, i can’t wait anymore! i need you.”  

He knows you do because he’s in absolutely same state as you, needy and desperate to fuck you, that’s why he’s pressing into you, the thick head of his cock stretching you open and you both moan loudly when he slides deeper, his girth filling you.

Ford is trembling above you, sweat slicking his brow as he inches himself inside carefully, terrified he might hurt you or worse, lose control. But you’re ready, so ready, your nails digging into his shoulders, “more, please, i can take it.”

Ford’s hips stutter as he bottoms out, his cock buried to the hilt. “Y-you’re so tight, sweetheart, so damn tight. i don’t— don’t know if i can move. . . feels too good. . . god, you’re perfect.”  

You’re no better because your walls clench around him and your voice so high and breathless as you cry, “so full, Ford— oh my god, you’re so big.”

“I know, love, i know,” he soothes, finding your parted lips with his as he starts to move slowly, making shallow thrusts that have you both gasping. “you’re doing so good, taking me so well, feels like heaven, baby.”  

You feel every inch of him, every twitching vein as he sinks deeper, the stretch delicious, making your head spin. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, urging him on. Your wet pussy squeezes his dick so good he nearly loses it right there.

And it’s too much, too good to be true, both of you letting out incoherent sounds and slurred praises as he thrusts into you, moving faster, his thick cock dragging against every sensitive spot inside you. You try to move together with him, creating a perfect sync.

“You feel so good, sweetheart, too good. i don’t— I don’t think i’m gonna last.”

“It’s okay,” you reply, cupping his cheek when you look right into his dazed eyes. “fuck me harder, Ford, please. . . need you so bad.”

He hears you, snapping his hips against yours, his pace quickening as he loses himself in you. Your moans about how good it feels fill the air while your hands are clawing at his back, nails biting into his skin as you try to pull him closer where it seems impossible. His scars feel rough under your touch as your fingers trace them blindly, making Ford moan at the sensation. His hips jerk forward, driving deeper and you cry out.

“So tight,” he groans into your ear. “you’re squeezing me, love, c-can’t think. . . you feel— oh, sweetheart, pussy so good.”

Your nails dig deeper, leaving crescents in his skin as he fucks into you with deep thrusts that have you gasping. “more, please, more,” you beg and he obeys without question, burying himself deeper, harder into your cunt.

“That’s it, love,” his hand slips between your hot bodies to find your aching clit, circling his fingers over the swollen nub with featherlight touches. “look at you. . . so beautiful, so good for me, you’re perfect, love. . . my perfect girl.”

Your vision blurs when he thrusts into you, at the same time his thumb presses down on your clit and a sharp cry spilling from your lips as the pleasure builds.

“Ford!” you whimper while your hands clutch at him. “oh god, i—”

“I know, love, i know, i feel it, let go for me, sweetheart, cum for me.

His beautiful voice and words are enough to pull you through another powerful orgasm, your body tense as you finish, breathless, boneless, drunk on his cock.

Ford’s dick throbs as your release slicks his length, dripping down to pool at the base of him. “you’re so wet, sweetheart, good girl.”

You cant think, not really, too fucked out and tired, your body trembles and you can barely take a breath, but Ford doesn’t stop, determined to fuck your brains out. His thumb circles your clit again and your hips jerk away, the overstimulation making you whimper. “n-no, wait— I’m sensitive—”

“Just one more, love,” he pleads. “please, baby, just one more for me. you can do it, I know you can.”

You try to close your legs and your body twitches with every touch, too much to handle, but Ford holds you open firmly, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses to your neck, your shoulder, anywhere he can reach. “you’re so good to me, so good, can’t get enough of you.”

He continues thrusting into you, filling your pussy to the brim and pulling out, slamming back again, you feel good, you do, especially with right amount of pressure being applied to your clit, but pleasure borders with sensitivity and little pain from overstimulation as he drags against that tender spot inside you. “Fuck, please! i can’t—”

“You can. You’re my good girl, you can give me one more, please, baby, cum on my cock again.” his words light a fire in your veins because the coil of pleasure tightening and building again despite the ache, despite all these overwhelming sensations. He fucks you so deliciously, grinding his hips into you in deep, slow rolls that make your toes curl and eyes roll, your nails scraping across his shoulders and back, all over his old scars. Ford groans at the sting.

“That’s it, love, just like that, let me have all of you.” he wets his fingers with saliva before bringing them on your sensitive nub again. “you like that? y-you like it when i touch you here, sweetheart? tell me, tell me how good it feels.”

“So gooood. . . feels so good, ford, don’t stop, please don’t stop, fuck me, fuck me!” and then you break again, another orgasm crashing over you, but this time you literally scream from how good it feels, your body convulses, your nails dig into his back with such force that blood comes out. Ford watches you come undone as he fucks you through it, his cock coated in your juices once again.

Ford cant hold himself anymore because you notice how his thrusts grow more deeper, harder, more erratic. His sweaty forehead is pressed against yours, his groans changing into desperate pants and you feel how close he is because his cock twitches inside you, his body trembles as he fights to hold on. “don’t w-worry, don’t worry, I’ll pull out— I’ll—”  

“No!” the word bursts out of you in a panic and immediately, you lock your legs around his waist to prevent that. “no, no, Ford, please, don’t, you can’t, don’t leave me, please—” your words tumble out in a frantic, incoherent mess, more sob than speech honestly as you cling to him like your life depends on it. “please,” you babble, your nails scraping against his skin, pulling him impossibly closer. “need it, need you, don’t pull out, please, please, please—”  

His surprised eyes fly open as he processes your words. “but—”

All you do is nod frantically in response, hot tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, your legs squeezing around his waist to keep him in place. “yes, inside, cum inside me, I need it, I need you to cum inside me”  

Ford groans as he gives in, his hips snapping forward with a force that makes you cry out. He holds your thighs, spreading you wider for himself as he buries himself to the hilt, as deep as he can go. He growls as his head falls back, he squeezes his eyes shut and just loses himself. “gonna— g-gonna cum inside you. . .”  

It happens, finally, his hips slam into you one last time and he finishes, his cock pulses as his cum paints your walls white. He hides his face into your neck while loud sound tears from his throat, halfway between a groan and whine. He rolls his hips, continuing to sloppily and lazily thrust into your pussy, grinding against you, unable to stop because he needs to give you every last drop of himself. “you’re— my love, so good, I feel so good. . .”

You lay under him and take it all, milking him for everything he has. Your fingers tracing his beautiful scars, ones you gave him now and his own ones, smearing a little blood over his skin, your legs tightening around him as you whimper, feeling every pulse of him, every twitch of his cock inside as he fills you. Oh god, such intimacy leaves you dizzy, your heart pounding so hard it feels like it might burst.  

“Thank you, Ford,” your body arches into him, asking, no, seeking more, always more. “feels so good. . .”

Ford finally comes back to his senses upon hearing your voice, he wraps his arms around you, holding you close as he shudders through the last waves of his orgasm. He presses kisses to your face, your neck, your shoulders. “I love you, i never want to let you go.”  

He pulls out with a shaky groan as he tries to catch his breath, his cock still glistening and twitching. But the loss of him leaves you feeling achingly empty, your walls clenching around nothing as a soft whimper escapes your lips.  

Ford is frozen above you, though, his chest heaving, his wide eyes fixed between your legs. The sight of his warm thick seed slowly trickling out of you renders him completely silent.

You let out a deep sigh, dazed, a dumb little smile curling at your lips as you look up at him, completely blissed out and so beautifully ruined. You trail your fingers down slowly, maybe to tease him once more, until finally dipping between your thighs to catch the mess he’s made.  

You circle your clit gently, then lowering your fingers to your hole, collecting his cum, covering your fingers with this sticky mess and Ford tracks every movement. And then, oh, you push it back inside, curling your fingers deep, your head falling back with a quiet moan as you savour every drop.  

Ford fucking whimpers at the sight as he watches you pump his sperm back into yourself.

“Don’t. . . don’t want to lose it,” you smile, looking at your scientist through half-lidded eyes, gaze unfocused. “don’t want it to go to waste, want to feel you.”  

Before you can say another word, he’s on you again. His hands spread your thighs wides when he positions himself at your entrance. Without word, he pushes back in, groaning as he stretches you open again. “you’re beautiful,” he gives you a kiss, while slowly fucking his cum back into you again, making sure to not miss a drop, letting it stay where it belongs.  

You hold him close, caressing his face and looking into his beautiful eyes. “I love you so much,” but you get interrupted by a little sudden thrust he makes. “oh, ah, Ford!” 

“Shh, i’ve got you, love,” Ford gives you a warm loving smile, rocking his hips gently. “you were so good for me, sweetheart.” he looks at you like you’re the only thing that’s ever mattered, like he’d give you the whole world if you asked and he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. Your crazy heart thunders in your ears as you hug and cuddle him, lost in the way he fills you so completely, so perfectly, like you were made for this.

The two of you don’t even bother moving because there’s simply no energy left to clean up. Ford stays buried inside you with his heavy body on top of yours like a blanket. For the first time in life, you feel that safe, good and loved, warm and. . . full in every sense of the word.

Sometime later. . . hours? you’re not sure, but the soft gray light of dawn creeping through the curtains. You feel Ford’s broad chest pressed against your back and suddenly his hand skims up your thigh.

“Ford,” you murmur, half-asleep as his lips brush the curve of your shoulder. His hand finds your leg, gently lifting it as he settles himself against you. “yes, please. . .” you smile, closing your eyes as you feel his cock rubbing against your folds.

He kisses the side of your neck. “just need you again, can’t help it. . . need to feel your pussy around me.”

You moan softly as he slides into you from behind. The angle is perfect as he fills you, sending shivers through your sleepy body. His hand lays on your thigh, holding you steady as he starts rocking into you, slowly, still sleepy, but fucking deep, each thrust making you sigh and whimper.

“I’ll never get enough of you,” his free hand skims over your waist, cupping your breast and playing with your nipple.

Meanwhile your hand reaches back to clutch at his hip and your head falls back onto his shoulder, Ford drives deeper into your pussy. “Ford. . . oh, Ford, yesss. . . just like that.” you mewl sleepily when you feel his fingers on your clit. 

You dont know what time is it, probably very very early morning, but you let him take you. There’s no rush, no urgency, just sleepy, languid thrusts and quiet soft moans you two share in the early morning while being half awake.

The sun is higher now, casting autumn golden streaks across the room, when you wake again. You’re alone in the bed and your body deliciously sore, marked with the evidence of last night. . . and this morning. Faint marks of kisses and hickeys bloom along your skin, the ache in your thighs reminds you of how thoroughly he’d claimed you.

The blanket is all over you, keeping you warm despite your nudity. You stretch out, yawning and blink away the last traces of sleep, but you notice him at the edge of the bed. Ford sits with his scarred back to you, hair messy, but his posture is perfectly straight as he leans over his. . . ah, yeah, now you see it, journal.

He’s scribbling something down there, intense focused, face serious and you just lay there, enjoying comfortable silence and watching him, taking in the way he looks so handsome even in his rumpled state.

“Morning, genius,” you murmur finally.

Ford glances over his shoulder. “Oh, good morning, love,” he says warmly, setting the journal aside and moving to your side of the bed. He leans down to kiss you, brushing his hand over your hair. “how are you feeling?”

“Sore,” you admit with a smile as you stretch beneath the blanket.

Ford studies you. “i’d say that’s to be expected. Rest a bit longer, okay? I’ll make us something to eat soon.”

“You better hurry because i’m so starved,” you yawn, covering your mouth with your hand.

“Starved, are you? well, you’re taking a shower first,” he says seriously, though his tone remains gentle. “you’re not wandering around covered in. . .” he stops himself as his cheeks flush a little, trying to find right words to use.

“Hm? Covered in what, ford?” you tease, propping yourself up on one elbow.  

“You know what, honey, don’t make me say that.”

Your eyes flick to his journal. “what are you even writing in there, anyway? can’t believe you’re making notes after the night we had. Is it, like, some x-rated research?”  

Because of your question, Ford straightens up, his face expression changes, the earlier embarrassment melting away as excitement takes its place. He looks like he’s just cracked the secret of the universe. “actually,” he begins, adjusting his glasses, “i think i’ve finally solved the equation for that anomaly we’ve been tracking! The one that disappeared because of the rainstorm, remember? I had a theory about the dimensional distortion rate and this morning, it all just clicked!” Ford launches into an explanation now. 

You, however, just blink at him and knowing grin spreads across your face. “so, what you’re saying is. . . my pussy literally makes you smarter?”  

Ford stops mid-sentence as he stares at you, flustered. “i— I wouldn’t put it like that,” he says, scratching the back of his neck, looking everywhere except at you. “but. . . perhaps there’s a correlation. . .”

You just laugh, dropping back onto the pillows as you watch his awkward attempts to compose himself. “yeah, yeah, Ford, I got you.”

He grumbles something about inappropriate comments, but the corners of his mouth betray him, curving into a shy smile.  

“So, my pussy is the key to unlocking the mysteries of the universe? Who knew i was a genius all along.”  

Ford groans, hiding his face in his hands, “Oh my god,” he says your name. “you’re impossible.”  

[softspokendove]

It was me

pairings: bsf!matt sturniolo x female!reader

summary: after your one night stand with ghost face, you can’t seem to forget that night. you confide in your best friend about your experience and how it’s been driving you crazy, all for you to find out he was the mystery man.

warnings: SMUT (who would’ve thought), knife play, slapping, p in v unprotected, degrading, rough kinda, pet names (sweetheart, baby, etc), name calling (slut, whore, etc), biting, multiple orgasms, crazy matt kinda, fingering, little blowjob f!receiving.

Important note: this is a part two, part one is posted before this one it’s called “ghostface matt”. I do recommend reading that one before this one since it has important “plot”. I’m sorry I don’t know how to link it :(

“Are you listening to me?”

you try to rack your brain for anything that Matt has said to you in the past 10 minutes but nothing comes to mind. You’ve been too busy inside your own head replaying previous events of the party last weekend. The more you think about it, the more you can feel his hands back on you again making you subconsciously squeeze your thighs together on Matt’s bed.

You look at Matt and he has an agitated look on his face. He’s been ranting to you for the past 20 minutes trying to get your opinion on the new video idea his brothers have, he doesn’t think they should do it and he wants you to back him up on it.

You quickly nod your head trying to be convincing, “yes I’m listening.”

Matt raises his eyebrows challenging you while he crosses his arms, “okay then what did I just say?”

You don’t even think before answering, “you asked if I was listening.” A sarcastic smile written all over your face.

“Very funny.” Matt blows air out of his mouth and walks over to sit beside you. His back now rested against the headboard, you sitting criss cross while facing him. “So what’s got you in a pickle?”

You snicker a bit at his choice of words, “a pickle?” He just shrugs, not a hint of humor shown on his face. You can tell by the look he’s giving you that he expects you to answer him truthfully. You feel your face grow a tad bit warmer as you think back to what you were previously day dreaming about.

You’ve told Matt before about your past sexual experiences and he’s told you his, it was a normal thing that was brought up time to time. But this time it was different. It felt different. You truly felt like that was your best sexual experience of your life and saying it out loud to your best friend didn’t sound appealing.

“I was just thinking about the party last weekend.” It’s not a lie, more like a half truth. You could be okay with that.

“Oh? What about it?” You feel your stomach twist and try to think of something to say other than the truth. You see a small glint appear in his eyes as he adjusts himself, getting more comfy.

“Nothing. It was just fun.” You copy Matt’s movements and adjust yourself a bit too, trying to look unsuspicious. But Matt can see right through you.

He squints his eyes and tilts his head, “c’mon it’s me, you can tell me anything.” You appreciate his words but it doesn’t help with the racing of your heart or the small patch of heat beginning to pool lower and lower. You don’t trust yourself to answer him, to concerned that your voice might wobble, instead you just lower your head and stare at your lap.

Matt knows this move all too well. When you’re too embarrassed or shy to answer someone you avoid any and all eye contact. “What did something happen?” You feel bad ignoring him so you shrug your shoulders as a response. A few more seconds go by, “Did you sleep with somebody?” Matt sees you visibly stiffen and he lets a small smile slip.

He finds it adorable how open you usually are about your sex life, but you can’t stop getting flustered everytime he’s asked you about the party. He’s been prying at you all week to get your side on what happened. To his luck all he got was you either avoiding his questions or changing the topic. He’s not letting you slip away this time.

“What is that it?” You slowly pull your head up your eyes finally meeting Matt’s deep blue ones. A small ‘yeah’ escapes your mouth. “Was it that bad?”

You shake your head, “no it was good.”

Matt’s small smile grows, “How good?”

Your eyes widen in surprise at his constant pestering questions. He’s not usually this interested in sex. “Really good. Like the best I’ve ever had.” You mumble the last bit but Matt heard you perfectly. Matt feels his heart swell up in pride. He made you feel so good, more than any other man has. He knew you were made for him and this is just more proof.

“Soo do you know who the guy is?”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion at Matt’s question. How’d he know there was a mystery guy. For all he should know is that you just had a one night stand. He couldn’t know that even you didn’t know who it was.

Unless.

Unless he was there. Or someone told him. Like the mystery man himself. No, if you knew who was under the ghost face mask you would’ve known right? I mean you must have felt that you knew the person. But then again you carelessly let that man use you practically, it’d be worse if you didn’t know him and let a stranger do that. Right?

Matt can almost see the wheels turning in your head. Your eyes are rapidly looking all around his face as your poor little brain tries to figure out how he knew. To be honest he wasn’t going to tell you. He wanted to see if he could run into you again as ghost face and see how’d you react.

He loved it. He loved seeing your pretty face all flustered and in bliss as his cock worked your wet pussy. He came home and jerked himself off before bed, replaying the whole scene again so it was fresh in his mind. He’s had so many boners this week alone. Every time he’d cum it’d be to you, your name effortlessly rolling off his tongue. He’s had to stay in his room for most the week so his brothers can’t see the state that he’s in.

He’s addicted and it’s bad.

All he wants is you. All he can think about is you. When you walked into his room earlier for your usual movie night all he wanted to do was practically pounce on you. To kiss you, feel you, hear your beautiful moans again. He can’t stop himself.

So is he upset that the mystery man won’t be much of a mystery to you anymore? A little. Is his cock straining so hard against his pajama pants that it feels like he might explode? Yes. And that is all he needs for him to lose track of his other plan and just let you figure it out.

“How’d you know I didn’t know who it was?” Matt’s whole demeanor has changed now. His legs are spread more apart. His pupils are dark and blown. His hair is sitting messily on his head. One hand is rested on his thigh while the other one fiddles with his pajama pants string. He just gives you a one shoulder shrug, trying to let you do all the work.

“Matt how did you know?” This time you sit up on your knees and give Matt the most serious face you can manage while you’re freaking out on the inside.

He doesn’t answer. Of course not. He knew he had to give you something to lead you to the right idea. But what would be the fun in saying it? No he’d show you. See that pretty shocked face again.

Matt ignores you and instead gets up walking over to his closet. He bends down to pick something up and then walks to the bathroom, careful not to show you what he has in his hands.

What is wrong with him? He’s been acting strange all week and this is just the cherry on top. You get up and stomp over to the bathroom door. “Matt!” You go to raise your hand up and knock on the door, right then Matt whips open the door.

Matt smirks as he sees your face, your eyes wide and mouth open ajar as your eyes take him in. He’s wearing the same pj pants as before but his sweater is now gone leaving him shirtless, his arm covered in tattoos on full display. As your eyes go up you feel your oxygen get knocked out of your lungs and your legs feel wobbly.

He’s wearing the mask. The same one from the party.

It couldn’t have been him. No it can’t. He was at home that day, he didn’t want to go. Besides he’s your best friend he wouldn’t want to sleep with you.

You want to believe that you truly do, until your eyes land on an object in Matt’s hand. A knife. The exact same knife from the party. That can’t be a coincidence. Oh my god you fucked your best friend.

“Wh-Matt? It was you at the party?”

“Surprise.” His voice isn’t his anymore. It’s the same voice from all the movies and the same voice you let turn you on while having sex with him. His hands are now those same hands that you can’t stop thinking about. His cock is now the same one you’ve been needing back inside of you.

This is wrong. You slept with your best friend and you loved every second of it. You’ve been day dreaming about getting another chance with that guy and now you finally have it.

As you begin to put two and two together you clench your thighs together, you can already feel your slick sticking to your folds. Matt notices this and starts stalking towards you. This makes you back up, not yet sure if you should be doing this. This all stops when the back of your knees hit his bed, leaving you pinned between them two.

“Don’t you want it? I know I do.” Your stomach churns at Matt saying the same thing you said to him last time, giving one last confirmation that this is the man. He doesn’t let you answer, instead he pushes you backwards, letting you softly hit his bed. His fingers slip past your waistband and pull your shorts down. A dark spot on your panties giving him all the confirmation he needs to continue.

He backs away from you, walking towards the door, shutting and locking it. Now it’s just you and him, and he’s never letting you go. You’re his. He’ll show you that.

“Did you miss me?” Matt tilts his head to the side and slowly walks back over to you, admiring how puzzled and adorable your face still looks. He runs a hand down your cheek before giving it a light slap, not enough to hurt you but enough to regain your attention. “I said did you miss me?”

You feel another wave of wetness at the familiar dominance from the man above you. You want nothing but to feel his hands back on you. To cum on his cock again. To be able to scream his name now that you know he’s your best friend. You give in and nod your head, “yes Matt.”

Matt groans at the sound of your whiny voice saying his name. God he’s waited so long to hear that. He quickly lifts up his mask and doesn’t waste anytime before connecting his lips to yours. Your lips are so soft and taste so good. His hand is still rested against your cheek as his other hand runs the knife down your body. Goosebumps erupt from all across your skin as you feel a shiver run down your back.

Matt is relentless with attacking your mouth. You start needing oxygen and go to open your mouth. He feels you open your mouth slightly and he takes it as an opportunity to slide in his tongue. His grip tightens on your face and he forces you to tilt your head to give him better access. You both moan at the new feeling of your tongues sliding against one another. The sensation was short lived as you both pull away gasping for air.

Matt starts attacking your neck, kissing all over your soft skin. He then starts sucking and biting, leaving marks all over. As he gets lower he gets cut off by your shirt, grunting he pulls away to slip it off of you and then continues. He reaches your tits and takes one of your nipples into his mouth, moving his tongue in a circular motion as he sucks.

You arch your back into his mouth and let out a moan. Matt can’t help but smile against your nipple at the noise, something he’s been longing to hear again. He lets go of the nipple with a pop and moves on to the other one, giving the same attention to it.

You begin to grow needier and the lust filled pit in your stomach isn’t doing much to help. You start squirming under the man and let out a pathetic whine, “Matt.”

He lets go of your tits and moves lower, his kisses getting lower and lower to where you desperately need him. He moves two of his fingers against your drenched panties, the slight pressure on your pussy causing you to gasp.

“Always so wet for me.” He moves your panties to the side and lets his fingers finally come in contact with your cunt. He gathers up some of your slick before inserting a finger into you. You moan at the sudden intrusion and let your head fall back against the bed, enjoying your best friend playing with you.

Matt feels his cock twitch at how tight you are. You’re perfectly sprawled out for him, your legs open wide to give him all the room he needs. He can see how beautiful you are when you’re so open like this. Can see your cunt clinging to his finger and sucking him back in as he motions his finger in and out. He leans down and applies a light kiss to your clit. This makes your head start to spin.

Matt wants nothing more than to insert his tongue inside of you and suck on that pretty little clit, but with seeing you subconsciously start rocking your hips to his movement he knows your not gonna last very long. That’s okay he’ll make you ride him later as a midnight snack.

He can feel your pussy start to relax a bit more against him so he inserts another figure. This time he curls them, hitting that spot deep inside you that makes you let out a high pitched moan.

“Shh baby, I wanna hear you, but you have to be quiet. Don’t want anyone hearing how much of a slut you are do you?”

Without thinking you let out a no and continue to rock your hips. Your movements are on key to his, letting him hit deep inside you with the tip of his digits. You bite your lip to hold in your moans at the intense feeling.

Matt kisses your inner left thigh, opening his mouth and biting down on your flesh. You squeal at the surprising pain. The pain of the bite and the pleasure of his fingers leads you to reach closer and closer to your peak.

Matt kisses the bite mark, soothing the pain. He feels your juices drip down his hand and onto the floor. He knows you’re close when he feels your walls start pulsating against him. He licks strips up and down your clit pulling you closer and closer to the brink.

“Look at me.” You’re too much in a mind fog to listen to him. All you can think about is how good he’s making you feel and how you really wanna cum. A gasp soon escapes past your lips at the feeling of a slap coming down onto your right thigh.

“I said look at me. I wanna see my pretty girls face when she cums.” You reluctantly lift your head up and meet his masked face. His mask is still covering his top face as he works on your cunt. You notice his knife is nowhere to be seen as his empty hand soothes your skin.

The pressure gets more intense as his motions continue. You let out small moans as your come close to your brink. All that keeps repeating in your head is Matt. His fingers inside of you. His tongue working hard on your clit. Your best friend making you feel the best you’ve ever felt.

Your hand reaches down towards his empty one and intertwines itself with his. You grip his hand tightly trying to ground yourself as you finally snap. The pressure soon turned into absolute bliss. Your cum soaking his hand. Loud moans leaving your mouth.

Matt can’t even be mad at you disobeying him. You looked so good while cumming. Your walls wrapped tightly around his digits as your juices seek out around them. He slowly slides his fingers out of you causing you to whimper in protest, he takes them into his mouth, swirling his tongue around his digits and groaning at the taste of you. “God you always taste so good.”

You feel yourself getting wet again at the view of Matt sucking his fingers moaning in delight at how good you taste. You buck your hips up towards Matt's hand wanting more, "please Matt."

"Always so needy baby." He avoids meeting your hips and instead stands up, sliding down his pajama pants and his boxers follow suite. His cock springs free making him sigh in relief. The veins of his cock are throbbing as his cock twitches staring at you. The reality finally hits him that he's about to have sex with you, his best friend. He can't believe it, but he also loves it.

"Turn around for me." You obey him and turn around now on your hands and knees. You feel the bed dip behind you and Matt puts his body against yours. He puts his hand on your lower back and pushes, forcing your upper body to lay flat against the bed, leaving your ass sticking up in the air ready for his cock.

Matt takes his cock and plays with your pussy teasing you. He slides himself repeatedly through your folds hitting your sensitive clit causing you to jump. He pulls you back towards him and slaps your ass, "stay still." He adjusts his cock to your entrance and slowly pushes himself in making you whine, "ah fuck."

He shoves in his full length making you feel so full again. Your walls spasm around his cock getting used to his size. Matt lets out a few groans, "You're so tight sweetheart." He starts to slowly slide out, almost removing his whole cock from your sobbing tight cunt, then he roughly slams himself back in. The tip of his dick hitting your cervix causing you to accidentally let out a loud moan, this earns you another harsh smack to your ass cheek. "Be quiet."

Matt starts pulling his hips back then roughly slamming them back in continuously, his pace slow but hard. The slow drag of dick having a big effect on you. You feel so good, all you can think about is Matt's cock. You grab a fistful of the bed sheets and tighten your hold on it as Matt keeps thrusting into you.

His bed starts to move and hit the wall along with his thrusts, causing him to groan in frustration. His hands grip your hips tightly, almost leaving marks as he pushes and pulls your body to match his pace. Basically using you as if you were a toy. You get caught up in the bliss of his cock that you let out a few small moan, still holding back the big ones.

Your cunt starts to leak out more liquid, it mixes with Matt's movements causing the room to get filled with the wet noises of you. This pushes Matt further, the fact that you get so turned on for him and only him. Only he can make you feel this good. He is the only one that can see and touch you like this, he'll make sure of it.

He increases his pace making you have a harder time of concealing your loud noises. Matt grabs both of your wrists and pulls them behind your back, holding them with one hand. He then pulls on those which forces you backwards, your back against his chest.

"I thought I told you to be quiet? Guess I'll just have to do it myself." His other hand that's on your hip moves and cups around your mouth. Your moans now getting muffled. Knowing that noise isn't much of a problem anymore, Matt increases the pace even more. The pressure in your lower stomach now returns as you practically scream into his hand.

Matt's hips constantly rutting into yours, his cock smoothly sliding in and out of you thanks to how wet you are for him. He feels your walls start to slowly clamp down around him, signaling that your getting close. "You gonna cum?" You moan back as an answer and nod your head. Matt feels himself getting closer as well, his cock gives a small twitch here and there while inside of you. He tilts his hips at a certain angle to hit just the right spot, making you scream into his palm.

"Cum around my cock. Show me how much of a whore you are for me and maybe I'll cum inside of you." Your eyes roll back inside your head at his words. You move your hips on your own accord and meet with his. You hear Matt's moans and grunts as his mouth is beside your ear. You roll your head backwards against Matt's shoulder, which he takes advantage of and bites down on your exposed neck trying to muffle his noises as he reaches his peak.

You let out a squeal at the bliss of the pain mixing with the pleasure of your best friend's dick forcing you over the edge. The pressure once again snapping and your cunt pulsating as you squirt all over Matt and his bed.

Matt realizing that he just made you squirt sends him over the brink, he lets go of your neck and groans out your name, his cum shooting out of his tip and inside of you. You whimper at finally feeling his cum fill and warm you up.

Matt lets you go to which you collapse onto the bed and sigh out in exhaustion. He watches as his cum and your cum slowly seep of your cunt. His cock twitching again at the sight, wanting more of you. He pushes it down and goes to put his boxers back on. He unlocks the door disappearing into the hallway and returns without the mask but with a wash rag to clean up the mess.

You hiss at the sensitivity which Matt apologizes for. He puts the rag on the floor to soak up that liquid, making a mental note to change his bed sheets later. He climbs into bed beside you and reaches over, pulling your body onto his. You feel yourself start to fall asleep as he plays with your hair. Before you fall into the darkness of sleep you hear Matt one last time, "You are mine."

a/n: sorry this took so long for me to post, I've been busy with work and I've been HORRIBLY sick. Hopefully I'll start posting more now and I hope you enjoyed!

tags: @hesvoid34 @sturnl0ve @princesspeachthefroggy @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut

[eskumii]

yandere!genin!sasuke uchiha + darling who's secretly half uchiha hcs

TITLE: " LIKE WATER, LIKE BLOOD " — navi. — general yandere!sasuke hcs.

NOTES: i've been randomly feinin over naruto again and this idea just won't leave me alone :'D don't press me on lore specific stuff i just yap and pretend it's true ok. also i accidently posted this b4 it was finished ... if you read that, no u didn't.

☆ you're no stranger to the fact that your mother had an affair with an uchiha man a few years before the entire clan was slaughtered like cows. your father had been a high-ranking official in fugaku's inner circle, but you had never learned his name, even when he secretly visited you and your mother on weekends between his missions and clan dealings.

☆ this is not to say, of course, that he was a bad man. he often tried to instill core uchiha values into you (never dishonor the uchiha clan name, always seek to carry on its legacy and strength, etc..) but nothing ever seemed to stick. you were more interested in the little trinkets he would bring you: necklaces, bracelets, hair ribbons, hand fans, and various other accessories that were often branded with the uchiha symbol. none of it was ever worn out in public, though, so you just hung them on your walls instead.

☆ after your father's death, you eventually distanced yourself from the uchiha side of your identity as it had always been steeped in secrecy and the fear of scrutiny from the third hokage/konoha elders/villagers who felt strongly about the nine tails attack. after all, you aren't supposed to exist. you're not sure what your mother was thinking when she got knocked up at such a politically fragile time, when the uchiha clan were still under fire for conspiracy and treason.

☆ at the academy, you intentionally avoid sasuke. you've probably spoken to him a handful of times—many of which were him telling you to get out of his way, or to shut up if you were talking too loud with your friends (your assigned seat was directly behind his, unfortunately).

☆ it isn't until much later after you graduate from the academy and are placed into teams that sasuke somehow finds out you're also an uchiha. whether someone told him or he just... knew, you do not know. at this point, you haven't seen him in months (you're on different teams), so him appearing on the landing outside of your open window is a very startling jumpscare.

☆ he takes one look around your room, which has uchiha merch strung up all over the place, and is immediately pissed at you. all this time there was another surviving member of his clan and he had no clue? and it was you, of all people?

☆ sasuke always thought you were weird and suspicious during your days at the academy. whenever he interacted with you, you would cower from him, almost looking ashamed. you were adept at everything he was and, as much as he used to hate admitting it, you were often his competition when it came to scoring at the top of various skill tests. looking back, it all makes sense: the blood in your veins is special, as uchiha children often are. as he is. and now, instead of callousness, he feels a kindling of pride at your excellence.

☆ it takes no time at all for everything to change between you and sasuke. after he barges his way into your room (you don't how he found out where you live in the first place?!), he forces you to explain why you lied about being an uchiha. you have no choice but to comply after his threatening glares pin you into submission and he refuses to let you past him until you talk.

☆ sasuke really doesn't care that you're a "half uchiha." you descended directly from a member of the uchiha clan so as far as he's concerned, you're his kin through and through. this discovery immediately sparks something primal in sasuke, like a desprate clinging to preserve what has been, and to protect what can be.

☆ you're often dragged away to secluded places by sasuke—the training grounds, usually. you try to fight but sasuke is just stronger than you and you are easily wrestled into defeat; a reoccuring pattern that makes you feel unsafe around him. but despite your growing feelings of contempt towards sasuke, he is brutally relentless in his pursuit of you or, rather, his pursuit of molding you into a proud uchiha who is willing to restore the legacy of his clan with him.

☆ the uchiha boy is a little worried that you lack so many of the values that he himself has been taught by his parents and itachi. you don't know much about the sharingan nor the clan's signature great fireball technique. so he starts there.

☆ let's be honest though: you're not interested in being lectured on the history of the clan by sasuke, but you're not entirely opposed to learning a new jutsu so you allow him to train you for now. whenever you mess up or ask too many questions, he'll sigh in very clear annoyance but bites back any insult as a mercy to you.

☆ you notice how much more patient he is towards you. how he quietly praises you when your little flame grows, how he immediately checks on you when you're winded from using too much chakra. there's a general closeness that never existed before (sitting shoulder-to-shoulder, physically guiding your hands into signs, or poking your forehead when you say or do something he thinks is dumb). it's all strangely... intimate.

☆ the frequency of his visits begin to increase as the days go by, and there were a few times where you would wake up in the middle of the night to see him standing over you. obviously, this scares you, and you have to keep sasuke's sudden intrusions into your bedroom a secret from your mother, so you begrudgingly agree to his strict schedule of meeting at his apartment at least four times a week instead of him breaking into yours.

☆ in the following months, you see a side of sasuke that you're sure no one else has seen. one that isn't carefree, but deeply emotional and reactive, especially when it comes to you. soon enough, he reveals his plan of revenge against itachi to you. you're shocked that he would go to such a length, and the sentiment is not shared by you at all.

☆ before sasuke leaves the village, he of course tries to convince you to come with him. you aren't a fool, though. despite settling into your uchiha heritage at this point, you're no destined avenger. you followed along with sasuke's strange intrusion into your life thus far, but this is where you draw the line. you refuse.

☆ "no? what the hell, [name]? you're an uchiha." he'll spit heatedly, arresting you by the hand when you turn to walk away from him. "your duty now is to kill itachi and restore our clan. don't think for a second that you can just run away from this. from me."

☆ and... he's right. one way or another, you find yourself a traitor to konoha for the sake of the blood that binds you to sasuke. what happened to his family, he won't let happen to you. this time, he's the one who'll kill to protect the one he loves, even if you hate him for doing it against your will.

[victoriangold]

Loustat Fic Rec MASTERPOST

This is my Masterpost for all the Loustat fics I've read and enjoyed the most. There are about 150 fics ranked by word count. You can mostly find the tags #AU, #PostS2, #S1, plus a few rarer ones.

Updates will be collected and added in the reblogs.

THANK YOU to all the authors putting so much effort into creating these beautiful works that i've spent hours reading!! I owe you the world.

1k - 4k

through all the days out wandering by concertoforgashedneck (1,3k, Rated E, #PostS2 ) A (not-so) brief moment in a certain vampire rockstar's dressing room before the show.

j’veux pas mourir toute seule by WeeBeastie (1,4k, Rated M, #PostS2) alone in New Orleans, Lestat waits - and waits - for Louis to come back to him The Music Man by Gigi_Sinclair (1,5k, Rated E, #PostS2) Louis can't kick down the door to the luxury suite at the Royal Lancaster hotel. Well, he could, but getting arrested by the London police is not going to improve his mood at all. Instead, he knocks with a fist clenched so tightly, he draws blood from his own hand.

mosaic.  by pocketsun (1,6k, Rated E, #PostS2) Months after their intense and stormy reunion, Louis and Lestat finally find themselves coming together once more in the place where they feel most connected to each other– in the intimacy of the bedroom.

That Sound Is Loud Inside Us by thetickingsclock (2,1k, Rated M, #DMCentric) Daniel's turning and the immediate aftermath The End Of All Things by lesfleursrouges (2,1k, Rated E, #S1 ) Louis tries to accept the fact that Lestat will be dead tomorrow and that this is the end of all things.

pour by baberainbow (2,3k, Rated E, #S1 ) Too caught up in the turmoil of not getting his way in this hypothetical scenario, Lestat huffs all put-upon.Because he can't take a hint. Because he's a fucking idiot. Louis wants him carnally. say that you'll hold me forever  by femininomena (2,5k, Rated Teen, #PostS2 ) You got me a room?” Lestat asks as soon as they enter the elevator. “Presumptuous.” Louis chuckles, smiling widely at the half-hearted retort. “Hopeful.” show me the only way (you know how to love) by peacefrog (2,5k, Rated E, #S2E3) After the incident in the park, Lestat comes to Louis again. All I Have to Do is Dream by Anonymous (3,2k, Rated M, #S2) DreamLouis has thoughts. A lot of them. do wrong right by sightetsound (3,4k, Rated E, #S1 ) during episode four, Lestat and Louis experience a dry spell as a result of Claudia sleeping in their room, and then they don't. got it bad for you by ad_castra (3,4k, Rated E, #S1/2) Lestat runs hot when he kills, cheeks flushed red and fresh blood staining his teeth, all amped up and wild with the bloodlust. Louis’s favourite time to kiss him is then, licking it all up and savouring the aftermath.  ain't no mountain by wordsphoenix (3,5k, Rated -, #PostS2 ) Louis is on his way to visit a friend when he hears a familiar voice on the radio. fruit basket by peacefrog (3,5k, Rated E, #PostS2 ) Lestat’s whole body swayed as he walked. Pants sitting low on his hips. Hips like weapons, swell of his ass like a homing beacon. And Louis almost forced himself to look away when Lestat stopped, and turned back.

Into the Woods by Gigi_Sinclair (3,6k, Rated Teen, #PostS2 ) Lestat always had a lot of friends; he’s got more now he’s famous. Louis is okay with that. It would be insane not to be. He’s okay when, under the instruction of the director, the man touches Lestat, putting his big hands on Lestat’s waist and yanking their bodies together. It’s all part of the show, he reminds himself. Then, Lestat and the man kiss. And kiss, and kiss, take after take after take. True that love in withdrawal was the weeping of me by pocketsun (3,6k, Rated E, #S1 ) Louis, avoiding Lestat after their night together, finds peace in a bookshop, but that peace is fleeting when it comes to a certain vampire stalking about. A Point of View by Gigi_Sinclair (3,6k, Rated M, #PostS2) An interview with another vampire. Which he sees as more like the game "Two Truths and a Lie." Threads by lesfleursrouges (3,6k, Rated E, #PostS2) Louis and Lestat find their way back to each other. Slowly. With care. you send me by vulcanscully (3,7k, Rated M, #PostS2 ) Close to a century after their Mardi Gras duet, Louis asks Lestat for a dance.

The Things We Did and Didn’t Do by marbleflan (3,7k, Rated M, #PostS2) You are thinking of him, maybe.” Louis looks up. “What?” Then it clicks. “Armand. You are touching me. In bed,” Lestat says, casual. Maybe too casual. “But you are thinking of him.” Louis doesn’t say anything. There’s not really anything he can say. It’s true, in a way. Not that he’s literally thinking about Armand. Not consciously. But he’s assuming Armand: Armand’s desires, Armand’s preferences, Armand’s reactions. He’s holding Lestat, he’s thinking of Lestat, he’s hard for Lestat. But he’s treating him like Armand. You don't know how to love me good by carmillas_wife_aurora (3,9k, Rated Gen, #PostS2) A song from Lestat causes a fight, a confession, a make out session in a dirty bar bathroom and a reunion. In that exact order.

4k - 5k

all I wanna, ain't no other by femininomena (4k, Rated E, #PostS2 ) GL tonight and ty for the tickets. Daniel said his daughters loved em. It takes every single inch of the self control that Lestat painstakingly curated for over seventy years of isolation for him not to chuck the phone at the wall.

The New Age by Gigi_Sinclair (4k, Rated M, #PostS2) "There was so rarely any restraint between the two of them. Everything was zero to a hundred faster than the cars Armand sometimes liked to show off to his snacks, and fuck whoever got in the way. Louis was fine with that. He got off on it. Now he's in his 140s, he thinks maybe it's time to grow up a little." all i want is to be home by deadratz (4,2k, Rated Teen, #PostS2) It’s strange to see Lestat around such modernity. To see the ways he has moved forward with the passing years, to embrace a new era — growing, even if he hasn’t grown old. The passing of time is still documented in the new way Lestat carries himself, in the way he fits into the present. No longer does Lestat only exist in memories and dreams. He’s no longer as he was the last night Louis saw him, no longer a twentieth century ghost out of place amongst modern walls and furniture. He's here, and he's different, but so much is still the same. Different, but still Lestat. Still beautiful.

in full transparency by ColorMeParanoid (4,3k, Rated T, #PostS2 ) the one in which Lestat can (allegedly) turn into a bat and Bram Stoker is (allegedly) a big fat petty liar Nearer, My Heart, To Thee by JustCallMeWinchester (4,3k, Rated E, #S2E4) Louis knew about his initials in Lestat's coat, after all, the Lestat of his hallucinations could only know what he knew, right? He'd found out the secret one very ordinary night, and now he carried his own secret, from NOLA to Europe, Dubai and back.

longing by baberainbow (4,3k, Rated E, #PostS2) The last night Louis spends with Lestat in the twentieth century; the first night Louis shares with Lestat in the twenty-first. forever's gonna start tonight by trinityofone (4,4k, Rated E, #DMCentric) Is It Vampire Pon Farr or Are We Fucking Soulmates?: The Daniel and Armand Story. If there were scarlet flags, they washed out in the mind of me. by pocketsun (4,5k, Rated E, #PreS2) Louis, as a human and as a vampire, working through his desire for Lestat. Or, four times Louis pleasures himself and the one time Lestat walks in and joins him.

on your side by fakehaunting (4,5k, Rated E, #PostS2 ) “My love,” Lestat murmurs. “I lay flowers for you at your grave and then you come to me. Is that what it really takes?”  Anchor up to me, love. by pocketsun (4,6k, Rated E, #PostS2) In the present day, Lestat finds out about the way in which Louis grieved for him. "You missed me so terribly," Lestat answers, finally appearing in the empty doorway as if Louis had summoned him right from his subconscious. "So terribly, you created a dream version of me. Is this true, mon cher? That you did this?"

Happy 160th! by Angstosaur (4,6k, Rated M, #S1 ) After Claudia's 17th birthday party, Louis senses something is troubling Lestat and eventually finds out that he has never celebrated his birthday. Louis decides to give him something good to remember when he thinks of November 7th in the future.

a singular soul by mllelerockstar (Deluxing) (4,7k, Rated E, #PostS2 ) “Tell me what you need baby.” Lestat shuddered and clutched him closer again. His lips were pressed to Louis’ ear, and he said in a devastated tone, “Say you love me mon cher. Just once, I promise I won’t ask again.” let's just blame it on london by cherhorowitz8 (4,9k, Rated M, #AU) Louis and Lestat try desperately to find a place where they can have sex. Also, Daniel’s wedding is a disaster.An AU one-shot inspired by an episode of Friends.

Bury Me Deep Inside Your Heart by prouvaireafterdark (5,1k, Rated E, #S1 ) AKA the very explicit coffin sex AMC never gave us in 1x04 stereoscopic by chinxe (5,2k, Rated M, #PostS2 ) Daniel just wants to get through The Vampire Lestat's documentary in one piece. The Vampires Lestat, Louis and Armand aren't making it any easier for him. don't have to guess by lestatslouis (ad_castra) (5,3k, Rated E, #PostS2) When Louis realises one of his biggest grievances with vampirism is the inability to communicate telepathically with Lestat, he keeps quiet for the sole reason that his sudden inclination to kill should definitely trump weird, psychic sex with his boyfriend. It’s kind of concerning that he considers them both an even playing field. love you loudly by vulcanscully (5,3k, Rated M, #PostS2) three times Lestat reels over Louis touching him in public, and one time they talk about it you cast the dust into nothing by skvadern (5,4k, Rated E, #S1 ) "When you're moving in me, I feel whole, Louis, as I haven't in so long. Entirely whole and adored." Lestat draws Louis over another line in the sand.

shadows in parallel planes by mllelerockstar (Deluxing) (5,4k, Rated Teen, #PostS2 ) it's been three years, one real estate empire and one platinum record since louis and lestat have last seen each other in person

i was on fire for you (but you brought in the cold) by cryptidink (5,4k, Rated E, #S1 ) It’s July in New Orleans and Lestat and Louis are feeling the heat. scarcely can speak for my thinking by cloudings (5,6k, Rated E, #PostS2) It’s been a good while now since they reunited in the rush of the hurricane, the discovery of the truth and treachery hot on their minds. On a warm Summer’s night, Louis and Lestat re-establish what they mean to each other, and re-visit the heat of the nights they used to share. held by vulcanscully (5,7k, Rated M, #PostS2) Louis learns to hold memory in his arms, and to let himself be held.

Tell Me One Thing Right by pomelos (5,7k, Rated E, #PostS2 ) Louis rediscovers his eye for photography, and somewhere along the way, finds a way to express his love to Lestat. no one else will have me like you do by peacefrog (5,8k, Rated E, #PostS2 ) The groupies line up by the dozen to get on their knees for Lestat. Lestat only gets on his knees for Louis. Sum of Our Worst Moments by moderndaylestat (5,8k, Rated E, #S1 ) Expansion of the scene from episode 1x06 where Louis swims the Mississippi to kick Lestat’s ass.

The French Quarter Phantoms by cococris, pocketsun, StarskyGirl  (5,9k, Rated Teen, #S1 ) Lestat flies Louis to New Orleans for a romantic date night that he definitely has planned and isn't at all a spur of the moment thing once they arrive. Definitely not. Only, while on this date, ghosts of their previous life begin to haunt them. The question is, how accurate are these ghost stories? And who knows them better than the two vampires who have lived to tell the tales?

autocorrelation by chinxe (5,9k, Rated E, #PostS2) Lestat wears a ring. Louis doesn't. Daniel pries, and gets a bit more than he bargained for.

6k - 7k

Reach For It by Alethia (6,1k, Rated E, #PostS2 ) "Louis, what is a 'Swiftie?'" "Oh, no," Louis said into the phone, dread gathering. "Did you say something smug and superior?" "I am Lestat. By definition I am superior, so smugness would naturally follow."

you and I both know by lamphouse (6,1k, Rated M, #PostS2) But even when one is dead and gone / It still takes two to make a house a home. Five minutes actually standing in the house with Lestat is all it takes. He thought he knew. He knew, but he wasn't ready for this. We only become more fully what we are by deadpooled (6,2k, Rated Gen, #PostS2) Louis is too shocked to respond immediately. The voice is faint, but it’s not hard to extrapolate when he’d been listening to it dissect his entire undeath for the more tumultuous part of the past month. All he can blurt, both out loud and through the connection, is, “Daniel?”.

personne d'autre by laundry (lovesjar) (6,2k, Rated E, #PostS2) Fuck the handcuffs, Louis thinks, screw the trinkets.

Of Mercy, With Choice by shavir_light (6,2k, Rated E, #PostS2) “I always thought that your victims were truly fortunate, to be gifted with such an exhilarating death,” Lestat says, tangled in the messy sheets. “What bliss it must have been, to be killed by one so beautiful.” Louis and Lestat play at a fantasy. It gets a bit out of hand. not for anything but warmth by wordsphoenix (6,3k, Rated - , #PostS2 ) There's no world in which Louis just leaves him there.

birds of a feather by andrealyn (6,6k, Rated M, #AU) Every few months, Louis dives passionately into a new hobby and drags Daniel along for the ride. Somehow, Louis didn't expect that birding would end up being so fascinating, but both he and Daniel manage to find something worth returning for in the woods. Except maybe Louis is the only one there for birding and not something else. Imperfect for you by Kaylin_KC (6,6k, Rated E, #PostS2) Louis and Lestat talk drag, an unexpected realisation, a love confession and then they fuck about it. And the Knowing Is Sweet, Too by shavir_light (6,6k, Rated E, #PostS2) For his own peace of mind, Louis had to get Lestat out of that miserable shack. He rented him a fully furnished apartment not too far from Rue Royale, then purchased a new, elegant coffin for him to sleep in. Next, a modern wardrobe to help him blend in with the mortals. And finally, he bought him a piano—a nice one, too. He assured Lestat that it was all a loan, just until he got his finances in order. The piano, though, was a gift. And now it was time for Louis to go home. Dry Spell by TorturedTadpoles (6,6k, Rated E, #WrittenPreS2 ) Louis and Lestat have reunited again in 2022 and everything is going well for the couple. Everything except for the fact that they haven't had sex yet. Louis sets out to change that - little did he realise it would bring up some unresolved issues from the past. the landscape after cruelty by kurtstiel (6,7k, Rated E, #PostS2) In the aftermath of the reunion, Louis takes Lestat back to his hotel.

shot at the night by verlec (7,2k, Rated E, #PostS2 ) Louis takes up photography again. Lestat offers to model for him. And what I thought was gone by Nalyra (7,4k, Rated E, #WrittenPreS2) Lestat smiles at him, seductively, blood sweat dripping into his eyes, the blond hair matted by sweat and falling into his face, blue eyes twinkling. Golden skin, shifting under the lights. Displayed. And then he turns to sing into the microphone, silently, fangs bared. The image on the screen flickers, changes, shows the guitarist. Back on Lestat, dancing along a stage, wearing… next to nothing. Or so Louis’ bodily reaction suggests. Memories rise, suddenly and impossible to process. drink up one more time (and i'll make you mine) by peacefrog (7,5k, Rated E, #S1 ) Desire thumped in Lestat like pure, unfiltered animal instinct. Like the want of the kill, the thrill of the hunt. Something up on its hind legs howling for the moon. “The night is young, my sweet. Give me just an hour? S'il te plaît, Louis. If I must, I will beg you.”

I try to be the chill girl, but honestly, I'm not. by pocketsun (7,6k, Rated E, #WrittenPreS2 ) “Let’s keep it casual.” Lestat is unsure if he hears it correctly. He is quite unsure about it as he lies there, panting from the comedown. Don't Poke the Hornet's Nest by TardisRos (7,7k, Rated M, #PostS2 ) Two interviews and three vampires later, Daniel still hasn't learned that prying is not always the wise thing to do.

8 - 9k

there's a religion in our love by ad_castra (8,5k, Rated E, #S1 ) Five times they sleep in Louis' coffin, one time they don't before i gaze at you again by tazatouille (8,6k, Rated Teen, #PostS2 ) Louis tries to figure out what to hold onto and what to let go. With Open Arms by magicbubblepipe (8,6k, Rated E, #PostS2) After reuniting with Lestat in New Orleans, Louis takes him back to his hotel to wait out the hurricane. Filled with a strong sense of protectiveness and a need to express a love too long denied, he also takes the opportunity to give his maker the tender care and affection he deserves. Whip In My Valise by magicbubblepipe (9k, Rated E, #PostS2 ) OR: Lestat sees the kink gear in Louis's Dubai bedroom and reaches some conclusions that may or not be true

hire a gardener for my grave by elke (weidli) (9k, Rated E, #PostS2 ) The first surprise (besides seeing a fledgling vampire gathering rats on Rue Royale, besides feeling Lestat’s presence like an electric-shock hum beneath his skin as he followed that same fledgling into grimier, rundown corners of the city that was his, once, besides seeing Lestat miserable and quiet and clutching at his wooden mockery of a piano) is that it’s Lestat who pulls away first. The second surprise is the reason why. gimme some face, a souvenir by atthebarricade (9k, Rated E, #PostS2) The Vampire Lestat is spiraling out of control. Daniel Molloy calls in backup.

Get him back  by Tumbledrylow (9,1k, Rated E, #WrittenPreS2 #RockstarLestat) Louis knew he had no right to be jealous, he had said he wanted just to be friends for a while, he’d just gotten out of a relationship, a long one, and Daniel had made a good point to him; Louis had no idea who he was outside of his companions.(Aka, Loustat friends to lovers again, feat. Jealous Louis suddenly understanding Lestat's crisis over Jonah, Pretty much 5+1 Louis observing Lestat and partners and then they finally talk.

And I can’t sleep, ‘cause thoughts devour, thoughts of you consume. by pocketsun (9,1k, Rated E, #S1 ) Louis’ very loud and very clear desires are broadcast to Lestat during their entire courtship. It’s impressive that Louis can keep a straight face while daydreaming about Lestat so passionately. inertia by chinxe (9,2k, Rated E, #PostS2) Lestat plays hard to get. Louis plays along. hyperspectral by chinxe (9,2k, Rated E, #Posts2) Lestat discovers the wonders of the internet. Louis discovers that, eighty years later, he's still just as normal about Lestat as he has ever been. Lilac Wine is Sweet and Heady by Craftnarok (9,2k, Rated E, #PostS2) With the hurricane about to cave Lestat's shack in on top of them, Louis invites him back to his hotel to keep talking. It's an impulse, not a plan, led by damage and desire, and Louis is more than willing to let it play out and figure out the consequences when the storm's blown over.

Anecdotes by magicbubblepipe (9,3k, Rated E, #S1 ) Set in the first episode, early in their courtship. Louis comes home horny from helping his friend Lestat update his wardrobe and has to take matters into his own hands. Lestat hears his beloved Louis calling his name and sneaks a peek.

i will give you all of me by peacefrog (9,5k, Rated E, #S1 ) Lestat buys Louis the Fairplay Saloon. After, he wants to give him so much more.

[onlinedolly]

hiii 🧟‍♂️ anon once more, being a perv in ur inbox whoopsie </33

i’m thinkinggggg scummy dad leon with innocent!reader who is just so so so shy and has been mostly cut off from the world from a young age (leon’s doing ofc). except now you're older and starting to get curious about certain things, especially your own body. and one night leon spies peeks in through your door and catches you hesitantly riding your pillow 😖 he knows how disgusting he is but he can’t help getting excited!! bc now he can help teach you about your own body!! and introduce you to the gross porn he watches every night ^.^

HIIII 🧟‍♂️ BB!!!! <3333 you can always be a perv in my inbox tehehehehehhee

cw: incest, leon watching w/o consent, masturbation, talks of sex

oh leon definitely cut you off from the world at a young age, oh so protective, he was a single father and it was easier to avoid the situations all together then talk to you about it.

and it’s just natural for you to be curious, yeah? the older you get the more you have feelings that can’t be explained away by leon, a particular one that you felt between your legs and blossoming in your stomach. you’d been to scared to touch down there, leon calling it an area meant for no one. but that doesn’t mean you couldn’t rut against something, right?

so like a bitch in heat, you often found yourself rutting against things in private, the side of your bed, a stuffed animal, and right now in this moment a pillow. your clothed cunt soaking the pillow as you let out little gasps, riding it at a fast pace.

leon had come home a few minutes prior, heading upstairs to change when he heard your small little gasps from your room. and curiosity normally kills the cat, but leon couldn’t help himself as he cracks your door opens. and the sight makes him practically moan as he watches you: small little thing, sobbing as you hump your fuzzy pillow.

leon can feel his cock hardening as he curses to himself, he shouldn’t be watching this — no. but he can’t seem to look away. not when you looked so pretty. what your father didn’t expect was the way you whimpered “papa” under your breath and you gasped. it made him stand still, did he hear you right? did you call for him while you fuck yourself? god his cock was hard as a rock now.

leon knew better to intervene, that would scare you too badly, so instead he still watches as you chant his name like a mantra, your pace picking up as you struggle to get yourself to your high. he could help with that, he thinks. all he’d need to do is walk through the door, pull your pretty panties down and shove his cock so deep inside of you— no. he shouldn’t be thinking that, god he shouldn’t be thinking that.

he watches for what feels like an eternity before you come, biting your pretty little hand as you convulse around your pillow whimpering softly. and he decides that next time he’ll intervene, next time he’ll teach you all about sex, hell fuck you and eat your pretty cunt out until your begging him to stop. he was a sick scummy man but at least he knows his daughter is just as fucked up as him.

[just-aake]

Everlasting Devotion - Part IX

Pairing: princess!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Sequel of Boundless Devotion Series. MedievalAU. With her coronation over, Natasha is now the queen of the Romanov Kingdom. However, the position comes with challenges from both old and new enemies as Natasha tries to maintain the peace while also navigating her relationship with you.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

Warnings: light fluff, light angst, slight violence

Words: 4817

The narrow, dimly lit alley was eerily quiet, save for the soft shuffle of boots on cobblestone. Two figures move with purposeful grace, their sharp gaze scanning the path ahead.

“Queens don’t usually involve themselves in investigations and missions like this,” Steve remarks pointedly, casting a sidelong glance at the concealed figure beside him. 

“That’s not true,” Natasha counters smoothly, not breaking stride. “My parents didn’t stand on the sidelines when they were king and queen. They were always involved. Besides, she’s my sister,” she adds firmly. “It’s my responsibility to know what she’s up to.”

Steve raises an eyebrow, unconvinced. 

“And I’m sure this has nothing to do with avoiding your mother’s request for some of your time today.”

Natasha’s lips press into a thin line, choosing to say nothing as her response, but that silence is answer enough.

Steve sighs knowingly. 

“If you don’t want a big celebration for your birthday, you can just tell her.”

Natasha’s mouth twists slightly, though her hood hides the expression from him. 

It wasn’t the celebration itself that she had a problem with. 

The real issue was that no matter how extravagant or intimate the event, it wouldn’t change the fact that she couldn’t spend the day with the one person she wanted to celebrate it with the most. 

Her thoughts flicker back to last year. 

Of how the supposedly joyous occasion had instead become a day marred by chaos and trauma. 

She had hoped this year could be different—a chance to create a new memory of happiness to replace the past. 

But with circumstances as they are, that hope seems far-fetched.

Natasha lets out a quiet sigh, pushing the thought aside. 

There was no use dwelling on it now. She’ll just accept whatever idea her mother comes up with when she returns.

Refocusing, she turns her attention to their current mission: finding Yelena and figuring out exactly what she’d gotten herself into this time.

The investigation had led them to this part of town, notorious for its shady dealings and less-than-reputable characters. 

Natasha’s sharp eyes dart to the buildings they pass, noting the darkened windows and wary faces that peeked out from behind curtains.

As they go deeper into the streets, more signs of life emerge, yet it’s still strangely hushed, the air thick with unspoken tension.

Natasha notices something else, too. The way the crowd parted as they walked, people giving them a wide berth. 

Suspicious glances were thrown their way, not at her—her cloak did well to obscure her identity—but at Steve. 

The towering blond man was receiving a mix of wary and curious looks, and it didn’t take much to figure out why. 

Natasha sighs again, this time with a hint of exasperation. 

“No offense, Steve,” she begins, her voice carrying a dry edge, “but you’re terrible at blending in.”

Steve glances down at himself, confused. His attire was casual, certainly nothing out of the ordinary—simple trousers, a loose shirt, and a cloak. 

“What do you mean?” he asks, genuinely puzzled. 

She gestures toward him. 

“Your posture, your stance. The way you carry yourself. It screams ‘knight.’” 

Steve straightens reflexively at her comment, clearly unsure whether to take it as a compliment or a criticism. 

“I’m just walking.”

“You’re marching,” Natasha corrects, her tone flat. “Head high, shoulders back, always scanning like you’re guarding someone.”

“That’s cause I am,” Steve points out, only half-defensively.

Natasha rolls her eyes and continues down the path with her leading the way as Steve falls a step behind, attempting—unsuccessfully—to appear less imposing. 

As they round a corner, the faint sound of barking reaches Natasha’s ears. Her eyes scan the area, and she spots two dogs just outside a tavern. 

At first glance, their coats muddied and darkened with soot nearly fool her, but when Natasha observes them closer, she recognizes the familiarity. 

Narrowing her eyes, Natasha whistles softly, a distinct sound she knew only a select few would recognize. 

One of the dogs immediately perks up, its ears twitching. It turns toward her, tail wagging enthusiastically, before trotting over with a familiar bounce. 

“Hey, Fanny,” Natasha greets, crouching slightly to pat the dog’s head. Her voice carries a mix of affection and exasperation. “Where’s Yelena?” 

The dog barks once in response before turning toward the tavern door, her nose pointing unmistakably in its direction.

Natasha straightens with a sigh.

“I’m guessing Kate’s with her too,” Steve remarks, his eyes drifting to the other dog in the distance. He sighs heavily, rubbing the back of his neck. “As a knight in training, she should know better than to let Yelena be in places like this.” 

“Trust me,” Natasha says knowingly. “I’m sure she tried her best to stop her. This is Yelena we’re talking about.” 

Her focus shifts to Kate's dog, Lucky, who is still barking excitedly at something high in the air. 

Frowning, Natasha tilts her head, trying to glimpse whatever had captured the dog’s attention. 

Her heart stops when she notices the faint outline of a bird circling above—and the unmistakable flash of red feathers on one of the wings.

“Steve,” Natasha says sharply, grabbing his arm and pointing toward the falcon. “Tell me that’s just some random bird.”

Steve follows her line of sight, his jaw tightening as he hesitates. Finally, he lets out a low, noncommittal sound, which only confirm her suspicions.

Natasha exhales a long, frustrated sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose, wondering why in the world you are in such a dangerous part of town.

Steve must’ve mistaken her reaction for nervousness to meet with you again after witnessing the small confrontation between you and her during the council meeting. 

“You want to stay out here while I go in?” Steve offers, already stepping forward. 

Natasha stops him with a wave of her hand. 

“No. You’ll draw too much attention in there,” she says. “Stay here and secure the perimeter.” 

Steve nods reluctantly, stepping back as Natasha moves to step inside. 

The moment she enters, a wave of noise and activity hits her. Natasha’s eyes quickly scan the space, taking note of exits, potential threats, and the clusters of people gathered in conversation. 

Her attention is soon drawn to a commotion at the far end of the room. 

Rowdy onlookers surround a table, their cheers and jeers rising above the din. As she moves closer, fragments of conversation reach her ears, punctuated by a familiar voice.

“Aww, is the big man scared?” a teasing tone rings out, followed by a roar of laughter from the crowd.

Natasha sighs exasperatedly, muttering under her breath, “Yelena…” 

The crowd shifts, giving her a clearer view of the table. 

There was her sister, masked and oddly sporting black hair but unmistakable as she leaned back in her chair with an infuriatingly confident grin. 

Across from her sat a burly man, his face red with anger as he glared at his cards. 

Behind Yelena, another figure stands nervously—a masked woman fidgeting with the bow strapped on her back. 

“Kate,” Natasha murmurs, shaking her head.

Her gaze sweeps the crowd once more until it finally lands on you. 

You were blending in among the other patrons, partially obscured by the hood of your cloak, but to Natasha, you always stand out above everyone else in her eyes.

Natasha immediately moves toward you, weaving her way through the crowd. 

As she approaches, she notices your body tense as your gaze locks onto something at the table. 

Natasha follows your line of sight, her expression frowning when she sees what had caused your reaction. 

Yelena was casually twirling a dagger in her hand, the blade catching the light. 

Natasha’s frown deepens when she realizes it wasn’t just any dagger—it was the one she had lent Yelena, the one you had gifted her. 

And Yelena appears to be contemplating using it as part of her wager.

At the possibility, Natasha could see the tension increase in your frame, the way you clench your fists and begin to step forward. 

Not wanting you to be in the middle of a confrontation, Natasha reacts instinctively, reaching out to grab your arm and pulling you back into the cover of the crowd. 

What she didn’t expect was for you to jab your elbow sharply into her side. 

The sudden impact made her loosen her grip slightly, though she didn’t entirely let go. 

Instead, she tilts her head to meet your gaze, her hood revealing just enough for you to recognize her. 

“Natasha?” you hiss, your tone both surprised and accusatory. 

Natasha rubs the spot where you’d elbowed her, a smirk tugging at her lips despite the situation. 

“Not bad,” she remarks, a note of pride in her voice. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” you whisper, flustered. 

Moving closer, you instinctively rub soothing circles on the spot you had hit before your eyes widen in realization. 

“Wait a second!” you continue, giving her a softer but reprimanding smack on the arm. “You’re not even supposed to be here! What are you doing here?” 

Natasha raises an eyebrow, throwing the question right back at you. 

“What are you doing here?” 

Your eyes widen as if remembering the reason for your presence here, and you hesitate, your eyes darting away. 

Natasha recognizes the look immediately—it was the one you always wore when you were about to dodge a subject. 

Before she could press further, you shake your head and deflect the conversation. 

“Why does Yelena have the gift I gave you?” you ask, your tone sharp.

“I let her borrow it,” Natasha replies simply, though her voice carries an edge of regret now.

“Well, she’s about to bet it in a game of cards,” you snap back, frustration clear.

Natasha’s brows furrow, her lips pressing into a thin line. 

“I’m sure Yelena is just messing around. She wouldn’t—”

“All right, all in!” Yelena’s voice rings out, triumphant and smug.

Natasha’s jaw drops, her eyes snapping up. 

“I’m going to kill her,” she growls, about to push through the crowd, but you hold her arms, stopping her in her tracks and blocking her way. 

“You can’t risk revealing yourself here, Natasha,” you whisper in warning, your voice low but firm. “Think about it—one wrong move, and everyone in this room will know who you are.” 

Natasha pauses, her gaze flickering between you and the other shady characters around her, weighing her options. More than half of them probably wouldn’t hesitate to attack or try to capture and use who she is for their own gain.

Knowing you’re right, she exhales sharply and gives you a curt nod in agreement to stay put.

The two of you turn to watch as the game proceeds.

Despite the precarious situation, Natasha can’t help but feel her focus shift momentarily when your hand finds hers, gently pulling it around your midsection.

The inviting gesture is instinctive–natural–as though you belong there in her arms. 

Natasha’s hold tightens slightly, drawing you closer until your back rests entirely against her. Her chin dips subtly, brushing against the edge of your hood, and she allows herself a moment to simply exist in the comfort of your warmth. 

The chaotic noise of the tavern fades just a little, replaced by the steady rhythm of your breathing.

Like always, you fit perfectly against her, a seamless connection that feels as familiar as it is grounding. 

Natasha’s fingers spread against your midsection, her touch firm yet protective, as if anchoring you to her in this swirling world of chaos.

A small smile tugs at the corner of her lips, one that she doesn’t even try to suppress. 

If she could stay like this—holding you close, feeling your warmth and presence—she wouldn’t ask for anything more. 

To stay in this moment, that would be her perfect wish for her birthday: no grand celebrations, no feasts, just you in her arms, safe and near.

But the moment is fleeting.

Natasha’s attention is pulled away when the crowd erupts with cheers and groans. She stiffens slightly, her gaze snapping back to the table. 

Yelena is standing now, triumphant as she gathers her winnings, your gift safely returned to her side.

You release a sigh of relief, relaxing back against Natasha as the possible conflict appears to subside. 

Her arms remain around you for a moment longer, her protective instincts keeping you close, but her eyes also focus on her sister to ensure her safety too. 

As Yelena turns to leave, the burly man across from her slams his fists onto the surface. The noise reverberates through the room, silencing the crowd and drawing every gaze to him.

“You think you can just make a fool out of me, take my money, and walk away?” he growls, his face flushed with anger and humiliation. His chair scrapes loudly against the floor as he stands, towering over Yelena. 

“Sit back down. We’re playing another round.”

Yelena’s masked face tilts slightly, her body language relaxed, almost amused. 

“Sorry, big guy,” she says airily. “A deal’s a deal. You lost. Better luck next time.”

The man’s hand darts out, grabbing her arm in a bruising grip. 

“I said sit down,” he snarls, his voice dropping to a dangerous level.

Standing just behind Yelena, Kate freezes, her hand twitching toward her bow, but she hesitates, clearly unsure how to proceed. 

Natasha tenses, her protective instincts flaring as she starts to move forward.

“No,” you whisper sharply, stopping her with a firm grip on her arm. “You can’t.”

Her head snaps to you, disbelief flashing in her eyes. 

“He’s threatening my sister,” she hisses, her voice low but deadly.

“And if you step in, they might recognize you, and we’ll have an even bigger problem,” you remind her, your voice calm but insistent. “Let me handle this.”

“Handle it?” Natasha repeats incredulously, her gaze flicking between you and the escalating situation at the table. “How?”

“Just trust me,” you say, already stepping forward before she can stop you.

Natasha clenches her fists, her jaw tightening as she watches you approach the table. 

Her every instinct screams to intervene, but she forces herself to stay put, trusting you despite the growing knot of worry in her chest. 

You slip through the crowd, your movements calm and deliberate, raising your hands in a placating gesture as you approach the table. 

“Now, let’s not let a friendly game turn into something regrettable,” you say, your voice carrying just enough authority to catch everyone’s attention. 

The burly man turns his glare to you, his grip on Yelena’s arm tightening. His eyes raked over you suspiciously. 

“Who the hell are you?” he demands, his tone dripping with hostility. 

Without a word, you reach up and lower your hood, revealing your face.

“I’m Lady Y/n Dreykov.”

Kate audibly sucked in a breath. “Oh…”

“…shit,” Yelena finishes for her, her voice tinged with surprise and apprehension. 

Your house title is usually effective in any scenario, though with recent events, the response is slightly different than the previous caution and fear. Around the room, murmured whispers began to ripple through the crowd.

“Hold on…Dreykov? As in the traitors?”

“Never imagined their house would fall this low…” 

Natasha’s hands curled into fists, her anger bubbling to the surface at the words directed at you. 

Nearby, a particularly unpleasant man pushes forward through the crowd, his smirk leering. 

“Well, if the lady wants a friend to play with, I can show her how friendly we are down here,” he slurs with a disgusting grin. 

As he passes Natasha, his shoulder pushing hers, she acts in a swift, calculated motion. 

With a discreet move, she stomps down hard on his foot. The man yelps, doubling over in pain, and Natasha smoothly delivers a sharp punch to his stomach. He collapses to the ground with a strangled heave, clutching his midsection as he remains in his prone position.

Natasha casually resumes her stance, her expression neutral as she glances around the room. The other patrons barely notice, dismissing the man’s collapse as the effects of too much alcohol. 

Meanwhile, you remain composed and unflinching despite the murmurs around you, your attention focused solely on the man still holding Yelena’s arm. 

“How about another game?” you offer, your tone calm but laced with subtle authority.

The man’s eyes narrow, suspicion and pride warring on his face. “With you?” 

Without answering, you reach into your cloak and pull out a hefty pouch of coins, setting it on the table with a deliberate thud. The clinking of the coins is unmistakable, drawing the attention of the entire room. 

The man’s gaze flicks to the pouch, his expression shifting slightly. The allure of more money is clear in his eyes, but so is his wariness. 

After a long pause, he releases Yelena, who is quickly pulled away to a safe distance by Kate, and sits back down, gesturing to the seat across from him.

“All right,” he said, his voice low and gruff. “Let’s see if you’re as lucky as that brat is.”

You smile faintly, taking your seat.  

Among the crowd, Natasha watches closely, her eyes never leaving you. 

Despite the situation, a light smirk tugs at the corner of her lips as she watches you pick up the deck of cards and begin shuffling. She knows better than anyone that luck has little to do with your skill. 

Games, puzzles, strategy—these have always been your strong suit. Natasha learned long ago never to challenge you to anything like that without careful planning or calculated risks.

“Let’s all just have a good time,” you say, your voice smooth and pleasant, as you deal the cards. 

That same enchanting smile Natasha knows so well graces your lips, the kind of smile that always manages to lower defenses and captivate attention.

The game begins, and as Natasha predicted, you quickly prove yourself. 

Each move you make is calculated and deliberate, a balance of strategy and subtlety. Unlike Yelena’s bold, audacious style, your approach is graceful and humble, drawing in the crowd with your calm confidence. 

The tension that previously dominated the room dissipates, replaced by a calmer atmosphere of camaraderie. The cutthroat gambling match now feels more like a friendly game among peers. 

Even your opponent, whose gruff exterior seemed impenetrable, starts to show hints of amusement. 

Laughter and cheers ripple through the room with every round, and the growing excitement draws an even larger crowd. The press of bodies around the table pushes Natasha forward slightly, giving her a better view of the unfolding scene. 

Impressed murmurs rise from the onlookers until one in particular catches her attention.

“Can you believe this, Happy?” a voice nearby cuts through the noise. “You give her some money for a drink, and she spends it on a game instead.” 

Natasha’s brows furrow at the words, her gaze discreetly scanning the crowd for the source, but with so many people packed tightly around her, it’s difficult to pinpoint. 

Then, out of the corner of her eye, she notices something that makes her stomach tighten with unease—a faint yellow glow emanating from beneath a cloaked figure’s arm before it’s quickly concealed. 

Natasha’s instincts flare. Her eyes lock onto the figure, who she realizes is weaving steadily through the crowd toward the table—toward you. 

Immediately, Natasha moves to follow, her focus trained on the cloaked individual as she slips through the crowd. She edges closer toward the center, her eyes never leaving the figure, until she reaches Yelena and Kate’s position at the edge of the gathering.  

Reaching their side, Natasha places a hand on Yelena’s shoulder, startling her younger sister slightly. Yelena looks up abruptly, her mouth falling open in recognition. Before Yelena can say a word, Natasha’s expression hardens, and she gives her a stern warning glare. 

The message is clear: Stay quiet and stay back.

Natasha ushers Yelena and Kate behind her, positioning herself as a barrier between them and whatever threat there might be. 

Her focus snaps back to the figure just as they reach the front of the crowd, their attention fixed solely on you. 

At that moment, the game reaches its climax with another of your perfectly executed moves. Cheers erupt from the crowd as you lay your cards on the table. 

The burly man opposite you grumbles, his frustration masked by the impressed grin he offers. Coins clink as they are added to your growing pile of winnings, and the lively energy in the room swelled.

Then it happened. 

Taking advantage of the eruption of cheers and laughter, the cloaked figure lunges forward, their gloved hand outstretched with a glowing stone aimed directly at you.

Natasha reacts immediately, her body moving faster than her thoughts as she rushes toward the attacker. Just as she is about to reach them, another blur of motion also intercepts the figure’s strike at the same time.

A stranger appears between you and the attacker. 

Natasha pauses for a split second, her mind registering that this new figure was also equipped with a glove strikingly similar to the attacker’s, except without the glowing hue.

The stranger’s gloved hand shoots out, meeting the attacker’s mid-lunge, the impact emitting a sharp, resonant hum. A sudden force erupts between the gloves, repelling the attacker’s hand backward, away from you.

With the attack directed at you momentarily thwarted, Natasha seizes the opportunity. 

Her hand darts out, grabbing the attacker’s wrist with a steely grip. But as her fingers brushed against the glowing stone embedded in the glove, her mind was yanked somewhere else entirely.

For a split second, she wasn’t in the tavern. Instead, she was back in that hauntingly vivid moment—that moment. 

Blood spilled across her hands as you lay crumpled in her arms, your face pale and your breathing faint. The weight of helplessness and fear pressed down on her chest as she screamed your name, her voice raw and desperate.

Natasha gasps sharply, shaking herself free of the memory with a force of will. She focuses on the present, channeling her rattled emotions into action. 

With a fluid, precise maneuver, she twists the attacker’s wrist and uses their momentum against them. In one seamless motion, she flips them onto the table. The wood splinters beneath the force, shattering on impact, and a bright light explodes and fills the room. 

Coins scattered everywhere, clinking against the floor in a chaotic cacophony. 

Immediately, the tavern erupts into chaos. Some people surge forward, scrambling for the spilled coins, while others take advantage of the confusion to pick fights. Shouts and crashes fill the air. 

Natasha stands amidst the chaos, her chest heaving as her breathing turns shallow and erratic. Her gaze remains locked on the now dimming stone at the downed figure’s side, suspicion and unease growing in her chest. 

The vision—the memory—lingers in her mind, vivid and suffocating. She couldn’t shake the image of your blood on her hands.

But then a warm, familiar touch cups her face gently, breaking through her spiraling thoughts. 

Her wide, unfocused eyes meet yours, and though your lips are moving, she couldn’t hear the words. It felt distant, muffled by the storm raging in her mind.

Slowly, the sounds of the room begin to return—the shouting, the clamor of fists and chairs—but your voice is what brings her back. 

“Natasha,” you repeat, your tone firm yet soothing. “Look at me. Are you okay?” 

Her gaze locks on your searching ones, the chaotic storm in her mind settling slightly as she absently nods, grounding herself in your presence. Then her eyes dart around, taking in the havoc unfolding around you. 

“We need to go,” she says abruptly, her voice regaining its strength. She grabs your hand firmly, pulling you through the crowd. With practiced efficiency, she navigates the chaos, quickly locating Kate and Yelena near the back of the room. 

“Move!” Natasha commands, ushering the two younger women ahead of her as she keeps you close at her side. Together, the four of you slip out into the night, the muffled sounds of chaos fading behind you. 

Outside, Natasha leads you to a quiet alley, her breathing still uneven. She leans against the wall, her hand gripping your arm as though grounding herself further. 

The glowing stone haunts her thoughts, and the memory it brought up lingers in the back of her mind. But when she looks at you, alive and whole in front of her, she feels the faintest flicker of relief.

“Are you okay?” you ask softly, brushing your hand over hers.

Giving your hand a gentle squeeze, Natasha nods quick but stiffly, her lips pressing into a tight line. 

“I’m fine,” she says, though the slight tremble in her voice betrayed her. “We’re fine.”

Before you could press further, Steve’s voice emerges from the shadows, his gaze scanning over the four of you with concern. “Everyone okay? What happened in there?”

“Nat started a bar fight by throwing a guy,” Yelena answers plainly, her tone far too nonchalant for the situation. 

Natasha releases a deep breath, scoffing in disbelief as she straightens and turns to glare at her sister. 

“You mean, saving your ass from getting killed. What were you thinking, Yelena, going into a place like that and provoking them?”

Before the argument can escalate, you step in front of Natasha, placing a calming hand on her arm. Across from you, Kate mirrors your actions, gently restraining Yelena. Together, the two of you create a barrier between the sisters, preventing the brewing storm from erupting. 

A low whistle interrupts the tension, drawing everyone’s attention to the side of the group. 

Natasha turns her head sharply, her eyes locking onto the same stranger who had intervened during the tavern fight. He was approaching them with another man following close behind. 

“Like I said,” the stranger says with a smirk, his words Natasha realizes directed at you, “you really know how to attract trouble, huh?” 

Natasha’s gaze flicks to you, finding your expression twisted into an annoyed scowl. A deep sigh escapes your lips, and your hand instinctively pushes Natasha slightly behind you, as if shielding her from view. 

“You didn’t need to step in,” you say, your tone sharp and clipped.

“Clearly,” the stranger replies smoothly, his eyes flickering across the group before settling on Natasha. His gaze drops briefly to your hand on her arm, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Looks like you’ve got more people protecting you than just those little twins.”

He nudges the man beside him. “Look, Happy, she even has a knight playing dress-up.”

Natasha shoots a pointed look at Steve, her expression screaming I told you so. 

Steve sighs, clearly catching her unspoken message, and shifts his attention to the stranger, his posture tightening as his eyes narrowed slightly. 

“We should probably go, sir,” the man named Happy suggests quietly, eyeing the group warily.

“Yes, please do,” you snap, your irritation palpable.

Natasha’s brows furrow as she watches you. She’d never seen you this short-tempered with someone before. 

The stranger’s smirk only widens at your tone.

“Fair enough,” he says, turning to leave with a wave of his hand. “Oh, and a small warning,” he adds, glancing over his shoulder, “you’d better bring her home safely. There’s a little redhead who’ll throw a tantrum if you don’t.”

Natasha catches your irritated sigh as you turn back toward her. Tilting her head slightly, she asks, “Who was that?”

You exhale deeply, running a hand over your face. 

“Just ignore him,” you mutter. “He’s someone I hired to help fix the gate at my manor.” 

Natasha opens her mouth to press further, but her sharp instincts catch movement out of the corner of her eye. She turns swiftly, her gaze zeroing in on the two figures attempting to slip away unnoticed.

“Don’t even think about it,” Natasha calls out, her voice sharp as a whip.

Yelena freezes mid-step, groaning loudly before turning back around to face her sister. 

“What?” she asks, her tone feigning innocence as her arms crossed over her chest.

Natasha crosses her own arms, leveling an unimpressed glare at Yelena before shifting her focus to Kate, who stands awkwardly beside her. Under Natasha’s intense scrutiny, Kate caves quickly.

“Yelena made me promise not to tell you!” Kate blurts out, pointing at Yelena as if to absolve herself of guilt. 

“Really, Kate Bishop?” Yelena gasps, swatting Kate’s hand down. “Where is the loyalty?”

The two begin bickering, their voices overlapping as they try to blame each other for the current situation. Natasha closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose, exhaling slowly in exhaustion.

Steve interrupts the argument with a firm clap of his hands. 

“Can we continue this somewhere safer?”

You glance around the dark alley, your expression skeptical. 

“Is there even such a place around here?”

Yelena raises her hand with a slight, proud smirk.

“I know one.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

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[bring-forth-his-sac]

negan x reader mirror on the ceiling👀😏🙏

thank you so much for the request!! <3

tags: !NSFW!, mirror sex, swearing, no foreplay straight to sex, pet names, dirty talk, mentions of potential cucking? mentions of sex tapes,

word count: 1.7k

Pairing: Saviors Era Negan x f!reader

You’re laughing when Negan walks in.

You can’t help it, especially when there’s a gigantic mirror that’s been hoisted up and basically strapped to the ceiling. 

By now, you know the drill whenever you get ordered up to Negan’s room. After months of teasing each other, the dam broke a few weeks back and ever since then, you’ve been going at it like animals, unable to keep your hands off each other. 

Officially speaking, you’re not one of the wives. There’s no title or open declaration to whatever is going on between you both. No one should know about you two, though with Negan’s big mouth, it’s hard to tell if your secrecy is holding up or if everyone is too scared to say they know what’s going on.

As far as you're concerned, Negan has kept things under wraps, coming up with excuses to justify why he needs to talk to you in private. He does this all while avoiding the real reason— he’s finally fed up with you giving him bedroom eyes all day.

Turning to look at him, you see Negan’s eyes flicker up from your ass to meet your gaze. You smirk, pointing up at your reflection “Really? How did you even get that up there?”.

Negan chuckles, strolling over to place Lucille on his armchair “I didn’t put it up there, darlin”. 

Your lips press together into a thin line as you watch him. He’s only been here for about twenty seconds and you can already tell he’s more teasing than usual. Whether that’ll make things more fun or annoying, you’re unsure.

“No shit, Sherlock” you scoff, planting your hands on your hips “but what’s the point of it?”.

He doesn’t answer straight away. Instead, he lowers his head, watching you through his lashes with a steady, knowing gaze. Negan knows the answer and he’s well aware that you know too. You just want to hear him say it.

“Negan,” you say as a warning when he remains silent “y’know if you just ordered me up here to be a dick, I’ll leave again”.

Rolling his eyes dramatically, he comes closer. “C’mon, you know I got it so I can watch your ass bounce when you’re riding me” Negan grins, unzipping his leather jacket.

”Oh so the view isn’t good enough when I’m doing all the work on your dick?” You reply, crossing your arms defensively.

This is how you and Negan communicate best, playfully bickering back and forth like an old married couple… which is ironic when you’re the only one he’s fucking that he’s not married to.

“It’s a terrific view, baby, but what can I say? I miss that fine ass of yours” pulling you flush against his chest, Negan’s hands glide down to squeeze your backside possessively. 

You narrow your eyes at him, trying to maintain a glare but it's clear your faux annoyance is starting to wane.

“But that’s not all I miss,” Negan continues “it’s been a whole damn week without my dick being in your sweet…” 

His lips find your neck, a lingering kiss making its home there. 

“Tight…” another kiss, edging up by your jawline this time. His hands still firmly grip your ass, pressing his growing erection against you.

“Warm…” Negan gives you a peck on your cheek, right by your mouth “pussy”. 

Then, with a confident grin, he closes the distance, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. As soon as your lips meet, any semblance of resistance crumbles. Clothes become inconvenient obstacles, hindering the reunion of your bare skin.

Hands fumble with belts and zippers, shirts are yanked over heads and before you know it, you’re naked and sliding onto his lap.

Negan sits at the top of his bed, pillows pushed up by the headboard as his hands trail down your naked form. He traces the curves of your waist and the slope of your hips before dipping between your thighs to lightly tease your core.

You look up at the ceiling to take in the large mirror that now dominates the space above you. Your own skeptical expression meets your gaze. It’s not an angle you’re used to but you can definitely see a lot.

Negan joins you, letting his head fall back on the pillows. Bringing his hands up, you both watch as Negan’s hands go around the curve of your ass and up your back, losing sight as your hair covers them.

“Just how I imagined” he muses, his grip coming back down to lightly hold your hips. You look down at him and Negan meets your gaze with a smirk.

Taking a deep breath, you lift yourself up. “You haven’t tried this out with one of the wives yet?” you refer to the mirror while teasingly lowering yourself just enough for Negan to feel your pussy.

The look he gives you is almost quizzical as he tries to simultaneously suppress a moan. “Nah, wanted to break it in with someone who’d actually appreciate the effort” he grunts as he feels you.

Slowly, you begin to sink down onto him, your slick folds parting around his thick shaft. You gasp softly at the stretch, your inner walls clenching and fluttering around his length.

Inch by inch, you envelop him. Negan’s head falls back with a low groan but luckily, he can still see. When your ass meets his thighs, with his manhood fully inside of you, Negan can’t help but let out a string of praise and admiration. 

"Fuck, doll, you drive me wild,” he praises “a fuckin’ natural if I’ve ever seen one, damn it’s a talent how much your pretty face turns me on” 

Slowly, you move. There’s no need to rush, especially if the reasoning behind this is to truly savor the mirror’s view. Lifting your hips, you rise until only the tip of Negan remains inside of you before sinking back down. 

You follow that rhythm, gradually increasing your pace but never bouncing up and down on him. You want him to relish in each movement as you ride him. 

In the mirror, Negan watches as the curve of your ass cheeks rise and fall in a mesmerizing rhythm. The reflection gives a different light to your body, highlighting the smooth expanse of skin and the hypnotizing plush of your ass.

Just when Negan thought he’d seen all of you, this blows him away all over again.

As if Negan doesn’t feel cocky enough, the mere sight of you riding him makes him even more emboldened. Bringing eyes veiled with lust back to you, he reaches around to grasp your ass, guiding your movements.

“That’s it, baby,” he mutters, his fingers digging into the soft flesh, kneading and squeezing “you’ll be the death of me but hell, at least I’ll enjoy every fuckin’ second”.

With quick and sudden movements, Negan flips you onto your back. You land with an “oof!” as Negan slips out of you. He quickly settles between your legs, his hands gripping your thighs as he lifts them up and out to the sides.

Your eyes go up to the mirror and you see yourself. The flush on your cheeks, the parted lips and the way your back arches towards yourself as Negan fills you makes you wonder if Negan actually had a good idea including this mirror. 

Negan leans in close, his voice dropping to a low, sultry tone. "You like looking, doll? You're soaking my sheets, y’know that?" he punctuates his words with a deep thrust “Must really like this mirror idea now, huh?”.

Your reflection stares back at you, eyes wide and slightly unfocused as you near your climax.

His dirty talk borders on taunting as he fucks into you, each word dripping with a certain arrogance only Negan can make sexy. “It’s like a slip and slide down here!” he chuckles “Aw baby, loving every second of seeing yourself get fucked, is that it?”.

Negan’s filthy words push you over the edge and you watch as your body tenses. Negan fucks you through it, not wanting to slow down even though he can feel his own release so close. 

“Damn, you’re easy,” he teases but he has no time to be smug. Hurriedly pulling out from your warmth, Negan only gives himself a few strokes before erupting onto your stomach. Your body twitches from your high as his cum splatters on to your skin, streaks of Negan coating you.

Negan flops down beside you when he finishes, both of you trying to catch your breath. The mirror shows two dishevelled people – sweat glistening on their skin, hair mussed, and your stomach marked with Negan’s release. 

“You look real pretty when you’re fucked senseless” his voice is a low gravelly tone that almost makes you sleepy. And the softness of his bed practically begs you to stay and take a nap with him by your side.

Yet Negan always has a way of keeping you on your feet, not giving you any time to let the sleepiness fester. “I think next time, we should make a sex tape,” he announces.

You wait for him to laugh but when he doesn’t, you grumble “Do it with one of your wives”.

“Noooooo” he whines, moving on to his side so he can face you properly “I wanna do it with you, so I can have that pretty face on tape and watch it over and over again”.

Negan smirks at the mere thought of it “Hell, I might even show it to the wives, might help them figure out how to get the job done if you know what I–”.

Grabbing a pillow from behind your head, you hit him with it.

“You talk too much,” you snark, biting your lip to stop a giggle from escaping “and no, I’m not making an educational sex tape for you to show your wives”.

Negan narrows his eyes when the pillow falls from his face, scooching closer before planting a kiss on your shoulder. “Think about it?” he coaxes “If you don’t want to record it, that’s fine, baby… the wives can just watch the next time you’re here”.

In response, you hit him with the pillow. Again.

gif made from scenepack provided by harleys.scenes on insta <3

[fall-inq]

Blackberry Jam 

I got tired of seeing no platonic Nikto or Krueger so I thought I’d try writing some. Feedback is welcome!

Pairing: Krueger x Nikto x Platonic Reader

Warnings: Nikto and Krueger being Nikto and Krueger, Violence, Car wrecks?, Reader nearly dies, No comfort, Possible innacurate geography

Read my rules

“Remind me to never trust you two with driving.” You grumble, holding back the urge to shove Nikto. With Chimera and KorTac’s recent team-up, you find yourself often paired up with the most unstable men from both sides. Nikto you were more familiar with. 

Krueger…not so much. You could tell that they knew each other well- way better than you would ever know. Which was fair- seeing as you were a “new addition to the team” in one of the most terrifying PMC’s in the world. Unsurprisingly, no one was eager to meet you or be put on a mission with you, Nikto especially. “This one is a runt,” he had said. “We should just kill it now.” Heartwarming, how kindly KorTac welcomed their newest operators. How wise they were to immediately pair you with him on missions. Usually, you were chosen like the last one picked in dodgeball and the one who took most of the hits. Now you were just the one who took the hits.

Both of you hated each other at first. His most common complaints were that you “talked to much.” That turned into “They don’t listen to me” because you’d be silent on missions with him. Then it was “they put us into danger,” and “get themself landed in the infirmary too often.” Over time, the complaints died down and Nikto grew tolerant of you, and you figured out when he wanted you to be quiet and when to talk. Instead of you two avoiding each other when not on active duty, he partly does it now, sometimes sitting down at the table to watch your Black Jack games with Horangi. Both of you ended up teaching him the game despite his uninterest.

It’s silly, growing jealous over someone who has known him longer. Why are you even jealous? Your relationship with Nikto is more so “forced into a get-along T-Shirt” than willing acquaintances. He and Krueger have known each other for years. There’s also the significant difference in mental stability. …Maybe that’s why he avoids you- he doesn’t want to hurt you. Or maybe it’s the usual: you’re annoying to him.

What’s worse is that Krueger noticed, and the smug bastard enjoys it. And yes, he does tease you about it. The taunts are the only thing he says to you.

Bitter feelings aside, the mission was running as smoothly as a mission with the two idiots could go. The task was simple: Investigate some small buildings on the coast of the recently captured Southern area of Verdansk, search them for intel, weapons free on any hostiles. At least, you thought it was simple from the back of the stolen ZIL-4334 the three of you entered. Mistake #1: You failed to notice Nikto entering the driver’s seat. Mistake #2: You failed to see Krueger do a sign of the cross despite not being religious. Krueger’s mistake was not squeezing you between him and Nikto. Or maybe that was purposeful.

Nikto floored it the second he decided he was ready to go. Poor, unwise little you slammed against the back of the truck’s cabin as the vehicle lurched forward. You hadn’t even realized you hit your head. Or that you were screaming as Nikto drove through a fence and sharply turned onto the road. Was that laughter? Was Nikto laughing? It was an odd, muffled sound. Rough, deep, and barking, like you had imagined. Despite your terror, you mentally celebrated. Horangi owes you his rations. Andre Nikto was capable of laughing.

That was also the moment the truck swerved again and tipped over. Due to the severe lack of tarp, you were launched out of the cargo bed easily, landing roughly on the asphalt and tumbling in the opposite direction. That would’ve been fine-ish, had you not kept rolling and had the terrain not started sloping down. The smell of burning rubber, road, salt and dirt filled your nose as your hands frantically tried to find purchase on the ground. A flock of birds startle and fly away at the sound.

“Nikto!”

You're falling backwards. The wind rushes past your head.

“NIKTO!”

You can hear the waves. You try to scream again-

A hand roughly grabs onto your arm and yanks you forward, giving you whiplash as you fall onto the road face-first yet again. You lie there while one of your teammates walks over to your front and squats down, his hand grabbing you by your cheeks and pulling your head up. “Krueger,” the Austrian answers. You know the fucker is smiling behind his dumb hood. “Come on. Up, up.” He drawls, using his other hand to pat your cheek. Smacking his hand away, you rise and dust yourself off, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in your head. Which brings you back to the present- walking down the highway next to the Verdansk coast.

“You’ve never seen me drive,” Krueger points out after your complaint, his monotone voice going light as he calls back. “And I never want to, thank you.” You retort, rubbing your scraped-up cheek. The taller of the group falls back from Nikto’s side to join yours as you walk. “…You are alright?” He huffed a laugh as you side-eyed him. “What? I care.” Krueger mocks, causing Nikto to snort. “He lies.” You know he does. Both of them do. “You’re young,” the Austrian remarks- like he’s secretly saying that you’re inferior and don’t belong. Like you’re a beetle he wants to crush under his boot simply for fun. Your frown deepens. “So?” He shrugs. “Shouldn’t you be making friendship bracelets with the 141? They’d be happier to have canon fodder like you.” You know it’s on purpose. You know Krueger- an asshole who tries to get a rise out of anyone. You should be the bigger person and you fail. “You motherfucker-” You want to punch him. You want to throw him off the side of the cliff. Want to break something of his even though you know he’ll rock your shit and gloat about it. “Stop.” Nikto barks, shooting the two of you a harsh glare that doesn’t affect the taller one of the group. The mood dies like a paper tossed into flame. It shrivels and blackens and falls apart into ash. The Austrian rejoins the Russian, leaving you in your usual spot.

It’s silent again. The birds are long gone. A tiny part of you wants to flee, too. The tiny part that wants to run away to a world where everything is okay and your childhood bedroom was never changed. “I’m hungry,” Krueger whines from up ahead. “Not our issue,” Nikto replies curtly. “I’ll make it your issue.” Krueger shoots back. “You do that I’ll remove your stomach with my hands.”

“I’d like that,” Krueger hums. You wrinkle your nose. “Ew. Gross.” What was more gross was the blood leaving your mouth when you spat on the side of the road. “You shut up, this is an adult conversation.” Krueger replies curtly. “Can the “adult conversations” wait for some cheap motel room-” “Both of you shut up!” Nikto suddenly snaps. You comply, though Krueger simply huffs a laugh. The last thing you want is an over-paranoid Nikto. Krueger seems to want exactly that.

The wind rustles past you again. The waves get harsher for a moment before settling down a little. A gray expanse stretches over the three of you and you suddenly feel like you’re in some sort of apocalypse. Is it going to rain? Krueger pauses, his attention focused on some bushes on the roadside.

“[C/N], come.” Krueger demands, walking over to the bushes. “Why?” He merely gestures with his hand. You can feel Nikto’s irritation rising like a steaming tea kettle’s squeal as you rush over to him. “We don’t have time for this,” the older snaps. “I’m getting a snack!” Krueger shushes, crouching next to the bushes. He grabs one of his small storage bags and opens it. “Look,” he urges, pulling you down. Blackberry bushes. It’s odd how such things can grow in the middle of a war zone. “Help me.” He says, grabbing one of the black-purple berries and plucking it. You follow the action, grabbing one, two, three.

“Sebastian,” Nikto demands hotly. For a moment you forgot he existed. You wonder how many times he’s done the same. Krueger stands, ignoring the dirt on his knees as he walks back over to the Russian and offers him a blackberry. The small berry is smacked out of his hand. You wonder if Krueger pouted as he zipped up the bag and clipped it onto his belt. “Don’t ask me for any when you’re hungry later.” He teases. Nikto forces a deep breath. “We don’t get hungry.”

Before any of you can move on, Hell breaks loose. Someone tackles Krueger- an enemy- and there’s a burst of deep dark liquid when the two hit the ground and a flash of metal. The hostile raises the blade again, aiming for Krueger’s face while Krueger pushes at the man’s chest- and then there’s Nikto, snatching the man’s arm and pulling it back farther than it should go. There’s a gross crunch and pop sound that’s partly drowned out by the hostile’s pained shout.

You fumble with your gun as Nikto tears the man to shreds. Bones continue pop out of place and break at his assault all while Krueger simply lays there as if he were cloud watching. Finally getting a goddamn grip, you raise the weapon at the man’s head while Nikto chokes him in a headlock. His arm presses further and further into the man’s neck, making the enemy sputter and gasp for air that won’t come through.. You imagine a blade, sawing at the man’s skin in an enraged effort to cut it off. You could imagine the red spilling. Imagine the garbled, bubbly cries as the man coughs up his own blood. You hear the crunch of a throat and finally fire a bullet into the fool’s head.  Nikto drops him with a jolt before storming over to you. The body falls like a plushie falls off a child’s bed. Meaningless and anti-climactic.

Nikto cuffing the back of your head knocks you out of your thoughts. “What have we told you about staying on task?!” He shouts, cuffing you again before shoving you to the ground. You don’t bother trying to argue. Stupid Krueger- it’s his fault for dragging you into his dumb distraction. You know that it’s your fault for listening to him and you don’t want to admit it. 

Sebastian stands, feeling his side curiously. The Russian abandons you and sets his sights on the Austrian. “Nikto, it’s fine.” He, too, is shoved to the ground. Krueger tuts. “Andre,” he calls, tone dropping. There’s no answer as Nikto crawls on top of him, pulling out his blade and moving to cut away the fabric hiding Krueger’s wound.

Only there’s no wound. Just dark purple…juice? Krueger pushes the Russian away and detaches the pouch the blackberries were in from his belt. It’s wet- covered in dark stains of what both you and Nikto thought was blood. Krueger opens the bag. “…It’s jam,” He explains with an irritating smirk, scooping some out on his finger and bringing it to his mouth. He tastes it and wrinkles his nose. “Hm, could be better.” Nikto’s fist connects with his face. Unsure whether to help the Austrian or to go looking for the intel, you watch the scuffle for a few moments before deciding it was best to go with the latter.

“Can one of you explain to me why Nikto and Krueger are covered in crushed blackberries and bruises?” Nikolai sighs, trying to keep his composure. Both of the masked men look at you accusingly. “[C/N],” Nikolai sighs. “What the fuck did I do?!

[all4minnie]

thinking about a friends to lovers scernaio with denki kaminari… 👅 just a one shot but implied a long-term friendship beforehand btw

Sparks Between Us

PAIRING : gn!bestfriend!reader x denki kaminari

WARNINGS : slow-burn friends-to-lovers dynamic, fluff so sweet it might give you cavities, awkward but adorable confession lolz, excessive banter and playful teasing, brief moments of mutual pining frustration, denki being a lovable dork

THEME : fluff, one-shot friends-to-lovers, mutual pining, light humor, feel-good romance, warmth and comfort.

The movie on the TV had long since become background noise, its action sequences and dramatic dialogue ignored in favor of the playful back-and-forth happening between you and Denki Kaminari on the couch. The bowl of popcorn sat forgotten on the coffee table as he made a dramatic attempt to swipe the last handful you’d claimed for yourself.

“C’mon, I deserve it!” Denki whined, leaning closer to you, his golden eyes sparkling with mock determination. “I’ve been carrying this friendship for years—feeding me is the least you can do!”

You held the popcorn hostage, popping a piece into your mouth with exaggerated slowness. “Oh, you’ve been carrying this friendship? Last time I checked, I’m the one who drives your butt to late-night fast-food runs.”

“Emotional support!” he countered, grinning as he pointed at you. “You wouldn’t do it if you didn’t love me.”

The word “love” hung in the air for a moment too long, and you felt a flush creep up your neck. It wasn’t the first time he’d teased you like that, but it was getting harder to brush off—especially when you were already catching feelings for him.

“Well, someone has to make sure you don’t burn the city down with that brain of yours,” you retorted, hoping he didn’t notice the slight wobble in your voice.

Denki laughed, a sound that always managed to make your heart skip. He leaned back against the couch, his arm resting casually behind you. “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were deflecting. Got something to confess?”

You rolled your eyes, though your cheeks were still warm. “Please. If anyone has something to confess, it’s you, Mr. ‘I’m So Smooth But My Hands Shake When We High-Five.’”

His grin faltered for just a second, and you caught the faintest pink creeping onto his cheeks. He quickly covered it up with a dramatic gasp. “How dare you accuse me of such slander!”

But you saw it—something in his expression shifted, just slightly. He glanced at the TV, suddenly avoiding your eyes.

“Alright,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter, almost uncertain. “What if I do have something to confess?”

Your heart skipped again, this time painfully loud in your chest. You tried to keep your voice steady. “Like what? Finally admitting you’re the reason the microwave broke?”

He let out a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay, that wasn’t my best moment, but… that’s not what I meant.”

You turned to face him fully, suddenly realizing how close you were. “Then what is it?”

Denki’s usual playful demeanor was gone, replaced by something softer, more vulnerable. He took a deep breath, his golden eyes meeting yours.

“I, uh… I think I’ve been kind of…” He paused, the pit-pattering in his chest almost morse code of, ‘boy, if you don’t stfu.’ But that was the last thing he felt he could do in the moment, meeting your gaze again and something in his stomach churned at the way your pretty eyes sparkled, your eyelashes fluttering ever so beautifully. “F-Falling for you— Like, a lot,” he admitted, the words tumbling out in a rush. “And I know we’re friends— and I don’t wanna mess that up— but I had to say it because keeping it in was driving me crazy.”

You blinked, stunned for a moment. He winced, clearly bracing himself for rejection.

But instead of pulling away, you leaned in closer, your voice soft. “You’re an idiot, you know that?”

His eyes widened. “Wait—what?”

You smiled, your own nerves melting away. “I’ve been falling for you too, Denki. For a while now.”

For a second, he just stared at you, processing your words. Then his face broke into the brightest grin you’d ever seen, his laughter bubbling out uncontrollably. “Are you serious? Oh my god, finally! I was starting to think I imagined all those moments between us!”

You couldn’t help but laugh too, the tension dissipating as he threw his arms around you, pulling you into the warmest, most electric hug.

“Well,” you said, your voice muffled against his shoulder, “guess you can finally stop pretending to steal my popcorn to get my attention.”

“Never,” he replied, holding you tighter. “But now, I’m stealing it as your boyfriend.”

do we like? heh… this is rushed and pretty crap but 🤷‍♀️ well i love it so

[the-cartoon-connoisseur]

Some thoughts on Ford and nightmares:

I imagine Ford has PTSD from his time with Bill and having to survive life in the portal (because how do you not after going through something like that), and as a result it’s not uncommon for him to have really vivid nightmares. If he gets a particularly nasty one that wakes him, no matter the hour he’ll throw himself into whatever his current project is and try to forget about it. It can also be disorienting to wake from a traumatic, high-intensity dream, so busying himself can be a way to get his head on straight. 

When these nightmares happen, I think he would keep them to himself. I don’t think he’d want to concern anyone, but also dreams related to trauma can be so personal and scary, it would just make him feel too vulnerable to tell anyone else about it. OR maybe he’s just so accustomed to having to go through things by himself that locking up the thoughts are just second nature for him. So instead, he just tries pushing it to the back of his mind where it eats away at him. 

The day after, Ford would be hard to reach. I think he’d have that look in his eye that says he’s in his head and not so much in the present moment. He may be shorter with people and more reactive to his environment. 

Maybe as a way to banish these unwanted thoughts, he paces around the perimeter of the shack, performing his own unofficial security sweep. Maybe he adds new measures of protection, even though they may be unnecessary.  I think it would aid as a distraction but also give him a little sense of control over how he’s feeling. 

Though an unhealthy reaction I could also see from Ford is staying up late to avoid going back to his dreams. I don’t think this is necessarily something he does consciously, but old habits die hard. Plus the less sleep you get, the less likely you’ll dream at all since REM sleep happens (typically) after an hour and a half.

He tends to suffer in silence, but I wonder at what point is the cross too big to bear? Maybe a week or two of experiencing back-to-back nightmares and sleepless nights begins to push him to his limits? Then what?

This is all just my personal headcanon, but I would love to hear what others have to say!

[venuswarmlight]

I was hoping to request a jealous Mizu x reader, like maybe she sees reader joking around with Tenzin and she gets really jealous. Idk maybe something along those lines ig. Tbh you can do whatever really, I just want some jealous Mizu x reader stuff. Sorry if this sounds too vague😓, Anyway thank you 🩷🖤

I hope I didn’t read this too late! A lot of things happened but what matters now is that I can keep writing. Hope you enjoyed it, i did it femreader bc I assumed you wanted it that way(I ALSO DIDNT FIND A GIF FOR THIS IM SO SORRY itS BEEN MONTHS I DONT USE TUMBLR)

Warnings: nsfw at the end. Not very proofread. Taigen acting like a man in the 1600’s. BAD ENGLISH.

Notes: Reader is an archer. Idk I’ll be adding more

Jealous!Mizu x Fem!Reader.

Having a mercenary girlfriend was the best thing that happened to you, from the first time you two met until now your only work was following her like a puppy through the villages and kicking asses to the ground like the badass you were, and of course the cozy nights were you both trained your fighting skills next to a lake just to end it by making out until her hands were already in your chest, desperate for blowing off some steam. Your life next to Mizu was great, yeah, but thanks to an unfortunate serious of events you weren’t the only ones in a campfire nearby that forest lake. At least for now.

“I’ll see if there’s another rabbit out there.” Mizu got up from the snowy ground, and looked at you. “Scream if Taigen gets too nosy.” She said as she dead-stared at the man sitting next to you.

“I’ll be fine, but thank you.” You smiled at her and went back to polishing your arrows, while Taigen was doing literally anything but looking at you with curiosity.

After a few minutes you finally broke the ice between you and him, your voice as soft as a feather while you spoke “You’re staring, you know that?”

He immediately realized and turned his head to the campfire smoke, loosing himself in the front view. “I’m sorry, I’m just.. Surprised.” He answered later, hesitant.

“Of what?” Your eyebrows furrowed, and you lifted your gaze to look at him, concerned.

“Well, women like you are not usually seen in these conditions.. Much less with a man like him.” His words intrigued you, what did he meant by this? You inhaled deeply as you kept doing your work, finally storing the arrows in their respective case.

“I find myself very comfortable where I am right now, I don’t know what you m-”You were interrupted by Taigen, he turned himself getting in front of you.

“You’re too pretty to be an archer instead of living in an estate with a rich man.”

Oh. So this is what he meant. Your eyes widened and you started laughing, covering your mouth of embarrassment, honestly it was uncomfortable and out of place but you decided to take it as a compliment AND as a dare. Purposely changed the subject to avoid personal questions and scolded him, pushing him playfully. “Hey! My appearance has nothing to do with my abilities.”

Taigen chuckled, not pushing you back but being more confident with his approaching attitude. “I’m just saying the truth, you should-”

“Oh, yeah, that’s enough!” You jumped onto him, making him fall into the snow and taking him by surprise, his head bounced a bit on the ground, disoriented.

“What is wrong with you!?”

“Can’t fight a woman back? You must be shitting your pants right now, what a shame.” You spilled, sarcastically, but that dominance fell when he grabbed your hands placed in his chest and used it as a support to push you to the right, shifting positions, now his body was topping you, his hands immobilizing yours by pressing hard on your upper torso.

“Not bad.. But still not as good as me.” He proudly said, suddenly you kicked his butt with your knee from the back, making him loose his strength in your wrists, you repeated his last movement, ending again in how you started that silly fight, your giggles and laughters filled the forest’s natural sounds, and suddenly you totally forgot that Mizu could come back anytime and find you two in this compromising position.

You and Taigen struggled there for a few minutes, what he thought that would be a stupid kid’s fight turned into a challenge, even if it didn’t look like it, he started recognizing how.. Incredible you were, your smooth but hard blows, the little screams you made when you felt like you were gonna loose, now he understood.

How lucky Mizu was for having a girl like you.

You finished the fight by enlazing your fingers with an iron grip around his neck, and your other hand threatening his face with your fist, but you forgot that Taigen’s hands were still free. He grabbed your waist and managed to make you fall on your back as he stood up from the ground and made you loose your grip on his neck, his legs immobilizing yours and his hands putting your wrists above your head, his uncontrolled breathing crashing against your nose as he laughed. “Defeated.”

Before you could answer, you saw a third person kick Taigen’s body from the side, just in the ribs, making him fall to the ground, almost burning his whole body next to the campfire, you sat up quick and looked at him first, then looked up at your side, a tall figure with a dead bunny grabbed by the ears in front of you, those blue unsettling eyes staring at you with the coldest countenance. You knew right there and then she was mad as hell.

“Training without me?” Mizu got on her knees to the campfire to roast the rabbit, not caring about Taigen’s prolly broken rib (not really). You stood up to clean your clothes and sit next to her, nervous. You weren’t doing anything wrong, but still.

“We were just playing.” You excused yourself, trying to make her look at you, but no. She was ignoring you.

Instead of answering, her gaze turned out to Taigen, who was struggling to recover from that fucking kick that hurt as hell. “You’re getting too comfortable here, aren’t you?” Her tone was noticeably passive-aggressive, her grip on the roasting stick was tightening.

“That wasn’t fucking necessary! Fuck, it hurts..” He yelled, finally sitting a bit far from you two, you could feel the tension building heavier and thicker in the ambiance.

It was so uncomfortable you felt like you had to go. “I’m gonna wash my hands before eating, I won’t be long.” You got up to escape the funeral situation you were just in, but a hand grabbed yours, making you stop, you looked back with concern, Mizu was behind you with that angry gaze, sending shivers down your spine.

“It’s too dark to go alone.” She said, then looked at Taigen “Take care of the dinner, don’t screw it up.” He was about to talk but instantly shut his mouth like he knew if he talked he could end up dead.

You tried to forget her toxic behavior as you two disappeared yourselves into the woods, the moonlight making the path for both, the silence feeding your ‘I’m fucked’ thoughts and increasing more when you felt her grip on your hand tightening, she ended up dragging you to a not so far place, finally letting out your hand. The only thing you could look was her back and her little black bun.

“What was that?” She spat, aggressively turning herself and hoovering over you.

“I told you we were just playing.“You stepped back, but unconventionally bumped with a tree behind you, before you could realize, Mizu had you cornered, your chest rising and falling against hers as she looked down at you.

“It didn’t look like it.” And the jigsaw puzzles connected in your head. She was jealous.

“Are you doing this because you’re-”

”Maybe. Seeing my dove pinned down by a bald monkey it’s not funny.” Her words were sharp, you didn’t even know how to answer.

Your hand gently caressed her cheek, making her gaze softened as she looked at you. “You’re the only one in my heart.” You whispered, dragging her closer to your face, her hands traveling down your curves and grabbing your hips tightly, your heat already increasing its temperature as it mets her knee, rubbing your core tentatively.

“I still want to fuck that pretty smile outta’ you.” Her lips attacked you like an animal, making you whimper and moan against her watery mouth, her knee making you hump on it desperately and your inner thoughts begging for mercy cause’ this night was going to hit you hard and long.