#yeah he head empty but also... he knows when hes being watched..

[nerdasaurus1200]

A little fix it fic cause the Zaun family deserved a better ending. Also, I just realized, this is my first Arcane fanfic, so I hope y’all like it!

Not Over Yet

“Is that singing I hear?” Caitlyn’s voice pulled Vi away from the fire for a moment. Despite the teasing smile, she still tried to covertly look at the plate on the table beside her partner. The sandwich was half eaten this time. That was at least some progress.

“Oh, yeah. It’s just this..silly little song my mom used to sing to me and Jinx when we were little.” Vi laughed under her breath. It was still a little strange calling her sister that.

“Before she…you know.” Vi looked back at the fire and shrugged, and she could see Caitlyn nodding slightly. The fire was a welcome distraction, but it still put her on edge. It reminded her too much of Vander dy-…of the accident. She swore she could see all their faces in the flames if she looked hard enough. All those she lost…or maybe she was just starting to see things too. Was this how Jinx felt all those years? That weird sense of…of emptiness while never being alone? Like some ghost was always watching over her shoulder?

Well, it wasn’t like she could ask her now.

“How did the service go?” Caitlyn wrapped an arm around Vi and leaned her head on her shoulder.

“Alright.” Vi shrugged again, unable to pull her face away from the flames, “I don’t know how I didn’t break down by the time it was my turn to get up there and spew sappy shit.”

Caitlyn chuckled, a dry and bittersweet sound.

“I think little man’s taking it pretty hard. He couldn’t even look me in the eye.” Vi recalled.

Caitlyn’s brow furrowed for a moment as she took in Vi’s words, trying to think of anything that would provide some comfort, “…I think Ekko just needs a bit of time. We all grieve in different ways.”

“Oh yeah, cupcake, some people go crazy, and other people decide to play dictator and declare martial law.” Vi remarked with a playful glare. Caitlyn huffed affectionately and flicked a strand of Vi’s hair, which in turn made Vi chuckle.

But then as soon as the happiness came, it vanished. It was so hard to be happy these days, with all that had happened.

“Have, uh…have the reports come back yet?” Vi asked cautiously.

Caitlyn’s eyes softened in sadness as she leaned forward to kiss Vi’s cheek, “Still no signs of any remains in the Hexgates. Only the bomb shrapnels we were able to initially recover.”

Vi’s jaw clenched ever so slightly and her eyes hardened for a moment. Damn it all, three times and they still couldn’t find any sign of her family??? Weren’t Enforcers supposed to be good at sticking their nose in stuff like this?

“However, I was looking at the schematics of the Hexgates, and…” Caitlyn let herself trail off as she dropped a piece of paper into Vi’s lap.

Vi’s eyes narrowed as she looked it over, some of it made sense but some of it was just nonsense, “Cupcake, what the hell is this?”

“If you and I know anything about your sister, it’s that she’s always two steps ahead.” Caitlyn pointed out, “The Hexgates have plenty of air ducts that she could’ve used as an escape route and we’d be nonethewiser.”

Vi’s eyes widened as Caitlyn’s implication hung in the air. So Jinx and Vander could be…her family really could be…

“If she’s alive she’ll turn up sooner or later. But we have a lot of work to do until that happens. For Piltover and for Zaun.” Caitlyn spoke softly, a gentle determination in her voice. Vi was helpless to the smirk that appeared on one side of her mouth. There she was, there was the Cupcake she knew.

“…Are you still in this fight, Violet?” Caitlyn couldn’t help but ask. At her question, a fond huff escaped Vi. She turned to look at her partner with a smile as she interlaced their fingers together.

“I am the dirt under your nails, cupcake.” She declared, “Nothing’s gonna clean me out.”

Caitlyn’s eyes sparkled with love, and then she smirked playfully, “That’s Sheriff Cupcake you you, creampuff.”

The couple shared another laugh as their forehead gently pressed together. For a moment, the world fell away…it was just them.

“…could you teach me that song?” Caitlyn asked.

Vi blinked in surprise, and then nodded, “Yeah sure.”

Then she began to sing, “Dear friend, across the river…my hands…are cold and bare…”

~~~~

“Dear friend, across the river, I’ll take…what you can spare…”

Jinx alternated between humming and singing as she steered the airship, just staring out at the horizon before her. She wasn’t even sure how far away from Piltover they were now.

A familiar little shove pulled her attention away however.

“Heyy, do not distract the driver.” Jinx scolded, though her tone betrayed that she wasn’t actually that serious. Not that she ever was.

Janna above, Jinx was more grateful than ever for that mischievous that little smile now. If Ekko hadn’t saved Isha, then, well…

Jinx thought it best not to dwell on that. Or else Mylo might start up again and the last thing she needed was his smart mouth. Either way, she owed Ekko a solid for it. And of course, for helping her steal an airship.

Isha giggled and hugged Jinx, but still made a bit of a stink face as she saw Jinx’s hair.

“What, you don’t like my new haircut?” Jinx teased, and rolled her eyes fondly when Isha shook her head.

“Ah, you’re just mad cause you can’t play jumprope with my braids for a while.” Jinx reached out and gently pushed Isha’s helmet to cover her eyes for a moment. Isha giggled again as she pushed her helmet back up. Jinx stepped back and let Isha take the wheel.

“Sooo, what next Fishbones?” Jinx pulled her shark rocket launcher out.

“We’ll do our laundry, wash the dishes, pay some bills, and get Isha into a good school!” Fishbones ‘spoke’ sounding rather excited about such mundane activities. Isha looked excited too as she steered, while Jinx looked incredibly annoyed.

“Stupid dumb rocket launcher.” She muttered, giving Fishbones a firm smack. At the sound, a rough old growl was heard a few feet away. Neither Jinx nor Isha flinched, they were used to that sound by now.

“Hey, don’t worry, Vander.” Jinx set the rocket launched down and sat beside her adopted father, “We’ll find another way. We always do. In the meantime, Vi can relax a little playing housewife to the Hat Lady.”

Isha pulled a lever near the steering wheel of the airship and moved over to sit next to Jinx and Vander. After she was settled all snug and cozy in Vander’s fur, she signed at Jinx.

“Oh, you want me to keep singing, huh? Mmmm…well alright.” Jinx agreed.

“You still haven’t mentioned where exactly you plan on going.” Silco’s voice could be heard, his hallucination lingering in the shadows by Mylo and Claggor.

Jinx smiled and shrugged in acknowledgement. She still hadn’t quite figured that part out yet. For now, the top priorities were keeping Isha safe, and getting Vander’s mind back.

This time, Jinx chose to ignore Silco for once as she sang, “We raise…no mighty towers, our homes…are built of stone, so come…across the river, and find…the world below…”

[lovingbini]

beautiful coincidences

seok matthew x female!reader | meet cute | fluff, suggestive, slight making out a/n: i believe y'all know exactly what visual of matthew i'm talking about, right? right? *** you and matthew met at a clothing store when you reached for the same jacket. what happened was what one knows of interest at first sight. eyebrows raised, you waited for him to let go – well, he didn’t.

“alright, give me a reason why i should let you get it,” he said, a smile on his face.

“i can give you two, actually,” you dared. “first of all, i have something this weekend that demands this jacket. second, it will look better on me, respectfully.”

matthew gasped, but the smile never left his beautiful features. he took it as a green light to take a good look on your body, making your eyes slightly pop with such audacity.

“right, i admit you’re gorgeous and have a good styling. but it’s actually my birthday this saturday…” he pouted. “you wouldn’t ruin that by leaving with my favorite jacket, would you?”

you had to laugh.

“that’s funny, ‘cause the something i have this weekend is precisely my birthday party.”

“okay, no need to clown me!”

“i’m not! i’ve been planning this outfit for a while, but just got the money for it yesterday.”

matthew bites his lower lip, contemplating. you have a basket from the store with more clothes, which he acknowledges they match the jacket both of you are still holding.

“maybe we could celebrate together after our parties, what do you think? i could use an apology for making me so so sad.”

you smile once again, unable to resist the charms of the man in front of you.

“yeah, poor sad man, what’s your name again?”

“matthew, yours?”

“i’m y/n. now maybe you should give me your number and i’ll analyze your proposal ‘till saturday, is that alright?”

“perfect for me.” he grins.

***

the bar downtown had lounges on the third floor with a view of the city. you rented one of the spaces to spend the night with your loved ones with no worries. it worked so well that your friends were already planning the next events to be in that same room. the place had a glass wall that allowed you to watch the hallway to be aware of anything that was happening outside.

that’s when you saw him.

matthew was standing on the other side of the building – a cup in his hand, hair slicked back and a jacket that looked exactly like yours. he was talking to what seemed to be his funniest friend; his beautiful smile was out for the world to witness, for you to remember how you didn’t text him at all.

it wasn’t on purpose, really. you just got busy with the preparations and ended up leaving it for later – a later that didn’t come.

sensing he’s being watched, matthew looks around and finds you on the other end. tilting his head to the side, his smile changes. he cheers on you with his almost empty glass, you return the action and sign him to meet you in the hallway.

“well, look who wasn’t lying,” he teases while getting closer. “somehow, i don’t see you wearing that so very demanded jacket…”

you hold a smile.

“it was getting kinda hot in there, but i can put it back if you prefer.”

“oh, no, i wouldn’t tell you to do anything you don’t want to. but i can’t lie and say i don’t enjoy this view even more.” there he goes again, scanning you up and down.

“sorry i didn’t text you, things became pretty hectic the last couple days.”

“nah, it’s fine. guess we can seize the moment right now. keep that communication going with no rush this time.”

and you do. the hours pass while you talk about trivial stuff, making sure to be interested in every aspect of each others lives. matthew’s not only handsome and charismatic, he's also part of the production team from a company you know very well — you were invited to work with them for a promotion but the schedules didn't match after all. what did match, though, was the both of you.

the way you laughed in sync, the way you looked at each other with so much attention and curiosity, the way the slightest touches made you two waver. you wish you would've met sooner, but on the other hand, getting to know each other in a place full of people who cherished you and knew how to have fun— oh, that was perfect.

later, when matthew found a more private space to enjoy your presence, you found yourself pretty comfortable on his lap. his kisses were addicting, his hands pressed your curves in ways you could just imagine. first, he was very attentive of your reactions, second, you were the most obvious woman on earth. nevertheless, it was working, matthew’s smoking hot and eager to show his every move. through the few sane thoughts still roaming in your mind, you couldn’t stop the willingness of taking him back home with you.

“wait, i need to pee,” you say, suddenly.

“like in a kinky way, or something?”

“no, what the hell!”

you burst out laughing and hide your face in his neck. matthew pats you in the back, waiting for a real answer.

“i’m serious. i kind of grinded on you in a way that hurt a bit, so it reminded me i’m here kissing you for a long time now.”

“okay, so go relieve yourself and i’ll be right here, waiting to be grinded on for another long time.”

you kiss him again, biting his lower lip as a punishment, but of course he moaned.

“you’ll be a nightmare to handle, matthew.”

“glad to know we have plans together for the next couple days.”

[sevs-corner]

Gary “Roach” Sanderson if he was in the CoD: MW Series (2019-2023)

LOOK-- I really like Roach (i watched the remastered mw2 2020 recently) and I wish he comes back later on in the current MW series. So for now (and my coping-ness) let’s imagine his dynamic with the gang! (These are all HCs with some in between dialogue and plot, and I'll be using some major plot points from the campaign. A lil' heads up, its been awhile since i've watched the gameplay so the timeline might be a bit confusing lol) Masterlist here ! And a previous HC of Roach here !

Roach gets recruited around the same time Gaz does, after the mission in London when Gaz’s team was trying to stop a cargo right in the middle of the city.

Roach is one of the many officers that gets called in for back-up

And then finds himself working in tandem with Gaz, covering each other’s backs as they try and secure the hostages

Price shows up as per usual and saves the two from under the rubble

Afterwards, with the two surprisingly not broken, they handle the aftermath and comes in the scene where Price recruits Gaz after he admits they had a great deal of info on the bust but was unable to act on it

Roach agrees, seeing the movements and reports that Gaz makes to their boss in the SAS, and feels mutual of how restricted they are right now

Seeing their conviction, Price gives a call to Kate and adds an additional person to the team-- Roach.

Then they all go on all sorts of missions together, Roach actually being the more grounded but chaotic of the three

So, lets say he adapts the shenanigans we do as players when we play as his POV in game

Randomly, he is picking up all sorts of guns from the ground, constantly swapping and taking too long to loot enemy bodies (that sometimes Gaz does it for him so they could move on quicker)

Price on the other hand just lets him does his thing-- until he rushes forward like a maniac and go guns blazing in the Embassy

But, he also gets scolded by plugging up comms from humming-singing, and--

what the fuck- PUT THE BANJO DOWN--

He's the type of person to be like that one guy who plays jazz music on his comms in a gun fight (yeah i made a gundam thunderbolt reference mhmm)

You'd think he'd go deaf but no, he takes peace in the chaos

Reveling and thriving in it actually, like he’s too used to the scene (he is but he would rather work in the moment then act in worry and in constant stress)

Roach was almost tempted to go with Alex and Farah for their cause but thinks about how he’s a much better fit with the 141 guys, and how he could see himself working in the squad long term

He eventually meets Johnny and Simon on the mission to get Hassan

Yet that goes to high and hell when he was a part of the A squad, barely clear of any wounds- luckily, nothing fatal

But the situation he found himself made him more energized with serotonin, easily making quick work of the combatants in his vicinity— doing his best to cover for his comrades who were still recovering

He knows Soap and Ghost would be here immediately but he tries to convince to focus on the mission, to let him handle it as he hunkers down for a moment to reload

They both deny, checking out first the crash site before checking out Hassan, and coming up empty

Until Roach finds the metal shipping carrier, calling over Soap, then Ghost and showing the find of that disdained American rocket

Soap, is obviously confused, and doesn't quite piece it together until Kate discusses it with him

As the others got busy with their personal mission

Of course, we're having Roach join the Ghost-Soap duo in Las Almas

Because of needing more man power in capturing Hassan of course

He hops into the mission somewhere in the middle, in the mission in getting Hassan with the assist of Graves and his shadows

Roach definitely hissed at this man on instinct and had to be held back by the armpit by Ghost

Even though he had a bad feeling swirling in his stomach, he kept it in and somehow ended up on the same squad as Graves going into the Oil Rig mission

Anddddddddddddddd you can guess how it went with him-- horribly

Personally, I can see how Graves to be this straight-laced guy when it comes to missions in a way that, if someone diverts from the mission or does something that may jeopardize it even a little-- he is going to flip

So that's what Roach exploited, the comms in his ears blowing up every time he goes for a risky kill or -instead of going for a stealth kill- he's going in guns blazing with a very, very exhausted Graves behind him

But the thing about Roach, no matter how reckless he is, he gets the job done

Graves wanted to oh so leave him in the Oil Rig before he and Soap exploded it, but sadly Ghost had told him and Alejandro to get the hell outta there before he could (such a damn shame)

But at least he gets to capture him in the streets of Las Almas

He got quite unlucky actually, about to meet Soap and Ghost but one wrong move got him captured

Ghost and Soap obviously becomes worried, and they're (with Rudy) are more determined than ever

And yep, this is the moment where Roach just sees red

Wreacking absolute havoc in his way with rage filling his veins

If there was anything that was going to tick Roach off, it would be his own allies hurting

Loyalty, whether in the military or not, is special

And if you use him and his allies for your own bitter ends and means?

Oh, you are in a world full of hurt

So much so, that you wished he spoke the merciful words, "pick and God and pray" by your death bed

He doesn't, not for Graves and definitely not for the man he called the General- Shepherd

He swears that Shepherd counted his lucky stars that night when they couldn't locate him after "getting rid of Graves and his lackeys for good"

But it doesn't end there- their job never does

This time, he accompanies Price and Soap into infiltrating the building for Hassan, leaving Overwatch to Ghost and the other team climbing the tower led by Gaz

He is back to, not even exploding the glass and breaking it, but pushing himself off the side of the building and cannon-balling straight through (with, suprise surprise, little to no injuries sustained)

He's a miracle ball of sunshine really

Soap then follows through and Price just... he could care less at the moment with Hassan (who is once again near their grasps)

Roach wanted to stay and help Price (who didn't get shot fatally but was still hurt from the blow) but his captain said to go

Thus, he went--

Doing his best to cover Soap as they finally steal the detonator from him but eventually run out of guns, and eventually--

Get

Shot.

Soap has to decide now- whether to save his comrade and friend or to stop the fucking missile from destroying the white house

Roach knew the cogs that was turning behind Soap's eyes, so he grabs his cheek and head butts him

Telling Soap to get his priority straight as he forces himself back up to distract Hassan

Soap tries to decode and hack the missile as soon as possible when the coast was clear

Luckily, he had just a couple of seconds to spare

Unluckily so, he saw Roach's pliant body in Hassan's hands- being dragged right in front of him

Soap is enraged, wrestling and trying to get the upperhand on armed Hassan

Luckily, Ghost always has his back-- shot on point, direct, and done in one click

With a heavy breath, he gives his thanks to Ghost before calling an evac- checking Roach's condition

Hands are cold to the touch but his artery pulse--

Faint!

By the time MW3 rolls around, Roach is up and at 'em!

Refreshed and recovered with the proper treatment and therapy

Some grazes to the nerves on his shoulder but its still all good and working--

"Ow!"

Yeah, he can't overexert it like before

Which makes the Tf 141 relieved...for now

A/N: Cont for the MW3 part soon! I just wanna freshen up with the plot on Makarov 'cause it was a bit confusing to follow so yeah lol

[3416]

willy admitting he wanted to get 40 goals so bad that it threw him off his game the last 10-15 games of the season is so.... interesting

[secondpersonpoetry]

you’ve probably already read it before, but the poem Party by Kim Addonizio really got me tonight. first thought was “oh man. yeah” and then my second thought was “how can i make this about my hockey guys somehow………..”anyway! have a good one! 

oh. oh.

​

[hauntingblue]

Why do they say dragon is luffy's father but doesn't look much like him... I mean it is true but why point it out... in that way he doesn't look like garp either

[slytherinslut0]

jealousy. | slytherin boy headcanons

author’s note: im completely unhinged, as always. no surprise there. love me some angry snake men🥵 please enjoy.

-your boyfriend sees another guy flirting with you in the hall.

Draco Malfoy.

Sees you from down the hall as he’s walking with his friends.

“You know what, guys, I’ll catch up with you after.”

Would literally ditch his friends to make his way over, collecting himself as saunters up to you and mystery man.

Would instantly grab your ass, no hesitation, grip firm enough to bruise. When you gasp, caught off guard, he’d shift his arm up and around your shoulder, pulling you against him.

“What’re we talking about?” He’d sneer.

His voice would be laced with feign interest, smirking down at you with blaring eyes before shooting daggers at the boy.

He’d simply chuckle at you when you tell him nothing, just school stuff, leaning down to place a possessive kiss on your cheek as he grabbed your hand.

“Wonderful. let’s head to class, yeah?”

He’d pull you away from that dude, shooting him another look meant to kill, a silent warning not to fuck with him.

Finally gets you alone in an empty corridor or bathroom; would waste literally no time at all before pushing you against the wall and grabbing your neck/jaw.

“Who the fuck was that, hm?”, “he was practically eye-fucking you…give me five good reasons why i shouldn’t have him expelled or hexed into bloody Azkaban.”

He’d be furious, but he’d also know that you’d never choose some other guy over him, so he’d soften once he hears the innocence in your tone.

“You’re mine, princess,” he’d loosen his grip, kissing you softly. “Say it.”

Blaise Zabini.

Was listening to music while walking down the hall, instantly rips out his headphones the second he sees you laughing a little too hard with some dude he doesn’t know.

He doesn’t necessarily stop walking, but he’d definitely slow his pace, kind of just watching, not wanting to interfere but also not wanting to look creepy stalking you from a distance.

When the guy doesn’t leave, he’d tired of waiting, saying “fuck it”, before marching over naturally.

This man is so fucking cool calm and collected he’d just saunter right up and join in, making himself at home.

He’d practically take over the conversation because he’s literally just that chill in every situation, seamlessly fitting right in, so fucking charming and loved by everyone.

You’d kind of just end up staring at him, smiling in silent awe, knowing that this was his way of asserting his place, letting the guy know what the fuck was up.

After the dude leaves he’d just causally look at you, smirking that charming smirk, wetting his lips as he hooked an arm around your shoulder and pulled you close, leaning down for a kiss.

“Ain’t no one getting you without getting me too, babygirl.” He’d murmur against your lips. “let that be known, right now, forever, always.”

Lorenzo Berkshire.

Would literally stop everything. The second he’d see you laughing and smiling he’d be completely unable to focus on anything else and would completely zone out of any conversations with his friends.

Would get like super anxious and flustered pretty much immediately.

Wouldn’t want to intrude so he’d just kind of hang back, wait for you against the wall and try not to stare too much.

His adorable little cheeks would flush, and he’d know he seemed utterly ridiculous so he’d try to busy himself with his shoelace or something while he waits.

You’d quickly cut off the conversation and move over to him, instantly being able to tell that he’s overthinking.

He’d smile at you, though you could still see the concern on his features.

“Who was that guy, darling?”

You’d tell him he was just a friend from class, no one special at all, pulling him in for a hug and giving him a quick smoochie on the cheek.

“Don’t worry enz, no one could ever take your place.”

He’d blush, trying to play it off. “Sorry love, I know you’re my girl.”

You’d take his hand, squeezing him hard, never wanting him to doubt that for a second. “Only yours baby, forever.”

Mattheo Riddle.

“Who the fuck-“

Would literally whip his bag at Theo, hastily shoving through the crowded hallway with blazing eyes, tunnel visioned as he tried to figure out where the fuck this dude found the audacity.

You wouldn’t even have to turn around to know he’s there, you’d be able to literally feel the anger radiating off of him.

You’d already know exactly where this was heading, but you’d also know there was no attempting to stop him because it’s pointless. Everyone in the school knows that.

Matty does what Matty wants, and right now, he wants to fuck up this guys face for even thinking about flirting with you.

You’d simply look up at him, noting his tensed jaw and his dark eyes as he glances between you and the dude, before fixing back on you, wetting his lips before he says,

“Is this fucker bothering you?”

Unable to help it, you’d smirk, shaking your head as you calmly attempted to talk him down.

“No Matty, he just asked if he could borrow my study notes-“

He’d heard more than enough.

“Study notes? Yeah, I don’t fucking think so,”

Without giving the guy a chance to react, he’d reach for his collar, shoving his back against the wall, teeth barred and face contorted in a snarl as he’d hiss:

“Bother my fucking girlfriend again and the only study notes you’ll need are the ones on how to drink out of a fucking straw, understand?”

Not interested in the response, he’d shove the guy away, eyes softening instantly as he moved back over to you, thrusting a hand through your hair as he kissed you like it’d been a hundred years, right in the middle of the hall for everyone to see.

And judging by the intensity in his grip, you’d already know, later that night, he’d be extra fucking sure to ask you who the fuck you belong to while he’s fucking you.

When he finally pulled back, he’d smirk at you. “Some bloody nerve on that guy, huh?”

You’d just shake your head and laugh, taking his hand as the two of you headed for class.

Theodore Nott.

He’d spot you from down the hall, his eyes instantly narrowing, gaze darting around as though he was missing something, as though this was some sort of sick joke.

Surely, this dude is mentally unwell, right? There’s no fucking way that he’s-

Doesn’t bother to think about it for even another fucking second, instantly shoving through the crowd to make his way over.

Proceeds to wrap his arm around your waist, other hand finding your jaw and pulling your lips to his before you could even process it.

Would proceed to full-on make out with you in front of the dude, and I mean tongue and all, his grip on your jaw so tight you’d know exactly what he was trying to do.

His hand around your waist might even slip lower, grazing over your ass, and then that’s when you’d attempt to gather yourself and push him back, completely embarrassed.

He’d just shrug, smirking down at you before he’d finally acknowledge the guys’ presence with literally nothing more than a glare meant to kill.

“Move along,” he’d say to the guy while pulling you away, grip tighter than ever. “This one’s fucking taken.”

As soon as he got you alone he’d be damn sure to remind you that you’re his, and only his, making you beg and whine his name before he fucked you like you deserved the pain.

Tom Riddle.

“AVADA KEDA-“

Lowkey kidding but not really.

No one would even dare because that man would make it clear as fucking day what would happen if they tried.

[lxnarphase]

want me to give you another one? ๋࣭ ⭑⚝

☾₊‧⁺...ft : gojo satoru + geto suguru + fushiguro toji + ryomen sukuna

☾₊‧⁺...cw : breeding kink, praise kink, spit kink, reader gets called 'mommy', dirty talk, teasing, overstimulation, satoru goes insane from pussy, suguru wants a girl this time, toji being in love with his wife, sukuna doesn't like when people insult his soon-to-be-wife, sukuna is dating single mom!reader

☾₊‧⁺...a/n : i really wanted to do the 'our baby is so cute, i want another one' 'yeah? you want me to give you another baby?' trope so here we are ❤︎ i couldn't think if i wanted to do others but if you'd like more please let me know ! ❤︎ also, the toji one ? is actually a sneak peek of a longer fic i'm working on ehehe

✧ g. satoru : it starts off with you nuzzling in satoru's arms as he watches tv. satoru notices that you began to get clingier after you put your baby girl to bed. every night, you would press against him as if you wanted to merge with him and he couldn't help but tease you about it. so when he feels you nipping his neck and your hand running under his shirt? when he hears you oh-so sweetly whisper, "don't you want to give me another baby, satoru?" into his ear? he's eagerly nodding, ready to do whatever the mother of his first baby wants. but instead of letting him on top...you climb over him and that look in your eye tells him everything he needs to know : he's fucked.

"baby, baby, baby, please," satoru whines, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. he feels like he has no control of his hips, he's so sensitive, but he can't stop fucking up into you. not when you're like this, practically buzzing with need and crazed energy. "c'mon, s'toruuuu," you purr, hands splayed out on his chest. "cum f' me again? please, honey, you only came once, 's not enough." the room is hot, both of you covered in a sheen of sweat. how long have you both been going? he didn't remember, he lost count of how many times his hips desperately pressed up, shooting his hot load into your wet, needy pussy. but you just wouldn't stop. not that he minded, but fuck, you were making him so brainless. he can feel his thick cum gushing out of you each time you lift your hips, dripping down his cock and balls, onto the mattress. "h-hah, it's so fucking messy," he groans, unable to stop himself from cumming again. "f-fuck me, baby, t-there's so much cum, y'r pussy is so fuckin' sloppy." you just won't stop milking him, your soft and wet walls massaging him as you moan just from the feeling of being filled up again. god, you were making him insane, what got into you— his eyes snapped up to you when he felt the wet drop of one of your tears on his chest. those pretty lashes of yours were getting wet with tears as he felt your thighs starting to shake, a weak moan leaving you. "c-can't," comes a pathetic sob, your hips desperately grinding down on his cock, moaning when you feel it throb. "c-can't stop, 'toru, 's not enough, i need it, n-need it so bad!" when you finally look at him and make eye contact, he feels like he's been shocked because you look a mess... "give me another baby, 'toru, i want another one, gimme another one, please—!" with no hesitation, his feet are planted into the mattress and his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest as he pounds into your dripping cunt, feeling himself cum just from the wail you let out into his ear. but he doesn't stop, he can't stop, not when his wife, his honey, his baby needs him to knock her up again so badly. "'m gonna give you whatever you want," he pants, his skin feeling like he was touching a live wire. "give it t'you 'til 'm empty, baby, gonna fuck you good, make sure it sticks, just like you, f-fuck, like y'want, yeah?" he feels you nod frantically against him, unable to speak from the way his cock drilled up into your pussy, tip kissing your cervix with each thrust. "y-yeah, you want that, you fuckin' want that, s-s'just take it, baby, let me give you another fuckin' baby."

✧ g. suguru : your son had just turned one so you and suguru let his nieces, nanako and mimiko, come over to have a little celebration. seeing the way you cared for the twins and your baby boy the entire day made him think. his son was still a baby and had a lot of growing, but he knew the kid would look just like him with a few of your features. he's always wanted a girl, and helping his sister take care of the twins as they grew up only made the desire stronger. the two of you mentioned having another baby at some point, but the rest of the week, all he could think about was trying to get you pregnant again, maybe give you a girl this time...who knows, maybe he could fuck you so good you'd have twins.

"aww...i know, i know," suguru coos, his hand pressing into your tummy. that condescending smile on his face just makes you melt under him. he's slow and methodical with how he fucks you, like he wants you to remember every vein of his cock, how it curves up just perfectly that it nudges that spot where his hand is pressing down and makes you keen. his smile morphs into a knowing smirk, his free hand rubbing your thigh. "you're such a pretty mommy, princess. do you know that?" suguru's so sweet, he's so soft, he's treating you like your the most fragile thing on the planet. he sooo slowly grinds himself into you, his hand giving another little push down on your tummy. he's so sweet to you, such a loving husband... but you know. you can see it in his eyes, the hunger and deviance swirling around in those purple irises. he's getting you soft and pliant, melting into the bed as he praises you where he knows your weak. "taking such good care of my baby, aren't you? ," he praises. his hand is so warm as he starts to rub up and down your stomach. "such a shame the geto genes are so strong in the men. however." your breath hitches when he pulls all the way out before shoving his cock all the way in down to the base. you can't help the soft moan of his name, watching him lean down closer so that he's right over you. "the girls in my family always look like their mommy. what do you think, pretty girl? d'you wanna try? want to see if i can give you a girl?" as soon as you nod, suguru fully leans over you, using his arms to hold himself over you and he really starts to fuck you. he's merciless, managing to keep that stupid fucking smile on his face as his balls slap against your ass. "she'll be so pretty, just like her mommy, so so so fucking pretty," he coos as if he isn't making tears drip down your face. he loves seeing his baby like this, so sweet and pretty for him. "okay, angel. 'm gonna give you another one, gonna flood this cunt alllll dayyy longgg."

✧ f. toji : toji never thought he’d get off on the idea of having another kid with you. yet here he is, dick hard in his sweatpants as he thinks about you carrying his baby again...how you'd start to fill out all over again, that cute chubbiness coming back, how he'd have an excuse to dote on you whenever you complained about the simplest of things. but god, did he find it attractive just seeing you be a mom to the kid he gave you. so when megumi tells you both what he wants for his birthday...“i want a baby sister,” he states bluntly. “but, i don’t want her to look like daddy. he’s ugly, i want her to look like mommy.” little brat. toji doesn't hesitate to let megumi have a sleepover with yuuji the next day, dragging you into the bedroom as soon as he gets back home.

“you want to give the kid a sibling, hm," he hums against your mouth, teeth tugging on your lower lip. you feel how hot the tip of his cock is as he rubs circles into your clit with it, smearing his precum all over you. "wanna have another kid with big, bad toji? tsk, poor cunt missed gettin' stuffed full of cum?"  you just hummed, a little breathless. your hand came up to cup his cheek, looking from his lips back up to his eyes. “mm, honey, you've gotta stop asking questions you know the answer to,” you cooed, guiding him down closer so you could press a kiss against the scar on his lip. “don’t you want me to make you a daddy again, toji? c'mon, knock me up, big guy.” after those words left your pretty little mouth, toji let out a laugh of disbelief, his mind instantly realizing that you, being a little minx, were 100% going to give him the worst breeding kink ever. he was going to give you what you wanted, what you both wanted. he was going to fuck you, fill you up with all his cum, and whatever leaked out? he’d make sure to push it back in, whether with his fingers, mouth, or tip of his dick.  toji easily flips you over onto all fours and lines himself up with your slit. when he finally pushes into you, he just lets out the most wrecked groan you’ve heard from him yet. god, just the thought of fucking you not just to feel good, but to fill you up, get you to take his seed deep inside to give him another kid? it messed with his head. you were almost too good to be true. each thrust he gave had you seeing stars, the thickness of his cock hitting every deep part of you. it was almost too much, but you didn’t want him to stop, especially not when toji started running his mouth. “shit, look at you, baby…takin’ it like a champ. c'mon, throw that ass back on me, mama, thaaaat’s it, good girl.” the sweet moans and adorable words of “gimme more,” “baby, please,” or “s’ too good, toj,’” only pushed him to get even deeper, to get you to cum so he could stuff you full. he coos when he sees you beginning to jolt up further on the bed, away from his relentless fucking. that's he knows that he found that sweet spot that would have you creaming in minutes. "tsk, you just never fuckin' learn, huh? 's always gonna be too much for you, isn't it," he huffs as his hand finds its way into your hair, tugging your head back to keep you from moving more. “hey. hey, nonono, don’t run away from it, lemme have it. you wanted this, you wanted your precious husband to fuck another baby into you, t'give 'gumi a little sister, s’ i’m gonna give it to you.”

✧ r. sukuna : it honestly is his fault this happened, he's being snappy with one of the parents at the birthday party of your son's friend. sukuna knew better, he should've just ignored the bitch, but the comments she's making gets under his skin. "she hasn't given you kids of your own yet? that's too bad, i would've let you do that as soon as you proposed," she tries to flirt, batting her lashes at him. it just makes him sick. did this fucker not see the way sukuna looks at you? "oh, you probably don't know if she's the one you want to mother your kids, right," the woman next to him says, putting her fucking hand on his arm and he shoots her the meanest glare. "not everyone is mother material, but i-" "hey, we're leaving," he interrupts when you walk up to him, slapping the woman's hand off him as he gently wraps his arm around your waist. "i texted yuuji, that's why he's watching our kid for the rest of the day. c'mon."

sukuna is devouring you, his mouth unforgiving as he runs his tongue up and down your pussy. he's pissed, the way his tongue laps angrily at your folds as if your pussy is the reason he's upset. "fuckin' bitch," he snarls, spitting onto your clit before sucking on it. "thinks she can talk to my wife like that." you shakily gasp when he finally, finally looks at you, the sharp anger in his eyes making you shiver. you can tell he's not upset at you, but seeing him so riled up and knowing that he's using you to get it out of his system does something to you. "you know your mine right? that you're stuck with me 'til the day we die," he asks you, his thumb replacing his mouth as he rubs firm circles into your clit. "i'm your husband. you're my wife. you are fucking mine." he's about to say something else, but he stops, letting out a heavy sigh, subtly shaking his head. you catch it though, you always do. "suku, what's wrong," you shakily ask. "y-you can...can tell me, baby, what's wrong? did something ha-" "let me get you pregnant," he says, his voice low but desperate. he's moved from between your legs to over you, and you can see he's so hard, the tip of his cock an angry reddish-purple. "don't you want to give our son a sibling?" your eyes widen, not expecting him to ask that. having a kid with him...honestly didn't sound that bad. and the way he called your son 'our'...it makes your heart flutter, and you can't help but give him a sweet smile and nod. "okay, 'kuna, we can start trying if you are sure. i'm still on birth control, but—sukunaaa!" he doesn't give it another thought, sliding all the way into you until his hips are flush against yours. he feels the way your arms wrap around him and scratch at his back, and as good as it feels, sukuna needs you to give him complete control. pulling your arms off him, he laces his fingers with yours and presses your hands into the mattress before rutting into you, the slap of hips against yours almost angry. "don' care about the birth control," you hear him growl, his eyes burning into yours. "'m gonna fuck you so fuckin' full of my cum that it bypasses it. it's got no fuckin' chance with how many times i'm gonna breed this cunt." the way he's talking to you, it makes your head spin and you know he feels how you clench down on him with the way he groans. "gonna fuckin' show everyone how good of a mom you are, gonna get you all swollen 'n' round with my kids," sukuna groans, feeling his tip kiss your cervix with each snap of his hips. you can't help but look at him with those big eyes, disbelief and infatuation swirling in them. he likes this look on you, you just look so fucking in love with him, and it's all for him, just for him, no one else, just fucking him. "yeah? y'like that? that i'm gonna have a lil' family with my wife? give you as many kids as you want, 'n' all y'gotta do is take my fat cock as i breed you 'til it takes."

all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

[mostly-imagines]

The Alchemy vol. II

jason todd x fem!reader

aka the progression of your relationship with the red hood

part one

warnings: depictions of blood and injury, standard gotham violence, jason doesn't know how to have feelings, reader is angry, threats against readers life, implied concern of sexual assault

It might be a matter of deficiency in self-preservation skills, how the sound of your window sliding open does nothing to phase you. You don’t know if that’s your fault or his.

“How’s it goin’ down there?” You mumble, not sitting up from your position on the couch.

He pushes the window shut in his wake, huffing. “I am up here for a reason,” he says factually.

You crane your head back just in time to see him tug the red helmet off his head, setting it down on your side table. He has on his under-mask that covers the lower half of his face. You don’t like that one.

He glances around your apartment as he approaches with slow steps. “Why are all the lights off?”

“Forgot to turn ‘em on,” you tell him simply.

He frowns at you, confusion evident.

You pay him no mind though, taking an exaggerated breath and pushing yourself up off the couch before trotting over to the kitchen. You open the fridge and scrummage for a water bottle. Jason thinks it’s odd how long it takes you to find one in your own fridge. 

Once it's (eventually) in your hands, you chug down several gulps and toss the half empty bottle towards the counter where it lands with a sloppy thump and rolls.

When you return, he’s leant against the armrest of your chair, watching you. You stop in the middle of the room, a contemplating stare on the floor. He tilts his head at you, wondering what you could possibly be thinking so hard about.

You take a deep breath before plopping down to lay on the carpet all in one go. 

He peers down at you, barely trying to hide his amusement. “You’re drunk.”

You shake your head, “I’m not sober.”

“That’s—yeah.” He stands all the way, coming to lay down on the floor next to you, using significantly more coordination than you had.

He lays in between you and the couch, though it doesn’t seem you’d left him much room. If he minds, it doesn’t show. “What’d you do?”

“I jus’ went out with my friend,” you tell him, closing your eyes. “She moves pretty fast..”

It occurs to him that you might be laying on the ground because you got nauseous. He turns to look at you, scanning you over. “You good?”

“I feel great,” you keen. “I feel…swooshy.”

He gives you a bemused look. “Dizzy?”

You shake your head with a great deal of consideration on your face, “No, not even dizzy, just…swoosh.” You throw out a hand with a theatrical flick.

“Mhm.”

You pucker your lips to the side. “You come here a lot,” you comment, clearly working up to some greater observation.

“You’re in my neighborhood,” he shrugs. 

Your head tilts, “You live here?”

He pauses before correcting himself, “My territory.”

You hum, “Still. There has to be other people around here you know. ‘Specially if you’re passing out on balconies on the reg.”

He frowns, “I try not to make a habit out of it.”

You continue on, “Why do you always go to my apartment? There’s—”

“I don’t always come to your apartment—”

You deadpan, “You’re here like three nights a week. And I don’t even help you that much anymore, you’ve used up my whole first aid kit.”

You can literally feel the eyeroll like you have a sixth sense for it. “That thing wasn’t exactly impressive to start with..”

“Did enough for you, didn’t it? Anyways, my point is: I think you like me,” you say with a nod.

That has him going absolutely rigid, “What?”

“I’ve heard you’re an asshole.”

“What?”

You nod, “Like, people that run into you. They say you’re kind of a dick. You help ‘em ‘n everything, but also while being a dick. Sometimes.”

“Okay...”

“But you’re nice to me. Sort of,” you squint. “I think you like me.”

He hasn’t felt this straggled in a conversation in a while. “I—well I’m not here because you’re a world-class medic.”

You scoff, “There’s no world-class medics..” But then your tone switches up, into something lighter. “We’re friends aren’t we? I think we’re friends.” 

He shakes his head, staring up blankly. “Sure, we’re friends.”

“We’re friends and you like me,” you reiterate.

He really wishes you’d stop saying that. “Okay.”

“I like you too. Even though you’re kinda sketchy.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that.

You hum into the silence, looking up at the ceiling. “J…James, Jack, John…”

He smiles, gaze dancing across the egg-whitened popcorn texture of the ceiling. “I’m not going to tell you.”

You ignore him, “Jake, Jaden, Jason, Josh, Joe, Jesse…”

You’re about three shots too drunk to notice the way he briefly stiffens. 

“Juuhhh…” you lull your head to the side, the letter fading out slowly as you look into his eyes. If you focus, you think you can make out a few of those little specks of green again.

He seems to already be running his own study on your irises, his eyes now softer than you can remember seeing them before. 

His next words are whispered, the sounds barely escaping. “You’re pretty.”

What?

“What?”

“What?” He seems taken aback by his own words, like he also wasn’t expecting them to climb out of his mouth.

You can literally feel sobriety seeping back into your blood. “I’m…pretty?”

He blinks a few times, apparently trying hard to decide on what position he’s going to take here. “I—well…yeah.”

You blink once, relaxing. “I think…I think you’re pretty too.”

“What?”

“We can’t do this again.”

He breaks eye contact, looking almost dejected.

You turn your head down to where his hand thrums against the carpet. “I mean, I know I haven’t seen your whole face in one go, but I see the top half now and the bottom before, so I…maybe I shouldn’t be saying this.” You reset with a shallow breath, “I don’t know what your whole face looks like.”

“That was,” he blinks, eyebrows raised. “Fascinating.”

“Thanks,” you say flatly. You close your eyes again, though this time you remain facing him.

He feels a slight pang of guilt for the way he continues to ogle at you, eyes tracing over every detail of your face. But that ounce of guilt does nothing to outweigh the reward of gazing upon you. He didn’t mean to say it but he definitely meant it: you’re really fucking pretty.

Your eyelashes flutter for a moment before stilling, a display of peace washing over your features. It’s when your breathing steadies over and your face relaxes completely is when he starts to feel like a creep. It takes a lot of strength for him to force his eyes shut, depriving himself of the view.

And he doesn’t do it on purpose, but after a few moments his inhales and exhales take to the same rhythm of yours. The thin layer of the rug isn’t doing much to protect his back from the hardwood below and he’s pretty confident later he’ll curse himself for lying like this for so long. 

But as he lays, he doesn’t find himself focused on the dark red-gray of his eyelids like usual, so much as the warmth from the proximity of your bodies. He’s usually so concentrated on whatever the hell is going on in his head and it prevents him from really truly resting, but now, the only thing taking up his attention is physical sensations.

He feels this warmth in his heart that if he didn’t know any better, he’d call burning. His hands feel numb and he can distinctly feel the beat of his own heart in his chest, thrumming away.

He presses his lips to your forehead with a feather light touch, slow to pull away. He doesn’t make it all the way back to his original position before his movement lulls and his body relaxes again, joining you gladly in unconsciousness.

Gotham City has a particular gift for inconveniencing you at the worst possible moment and doing it multiple times a week.

Tonight's round of problems resulted in an entire city district getting shut down, the district which is regrettably right between your job and your apartment.

So on top of having to hole up into your work for two hours longer than you were supposed to, it took you an extra 45 minutes getting home while trying to maneuver around every other person in the same situation. And just to cement the quality of this night, the door to your apartment building slams nice and hard against your side and the light in the hallway is out.

You groan when you fail to get your key the lock the right way for the third time, lodging it in a final time and shoving the door open. You flick on the kitchen light and dump your bag onto the counter, kicking the door shut behind you.

You take a deep breath, eyes closed, as you lean your head back against the wall. The second you crack your eyes open again, a pile of red mass on the floor behind your couch catches your attention and startles some energy right back into your chest.

“Oh, shit,” you scurry over towards the window, crumbling down onto your knees in front of him. Your eyes dart across the red helmet, trying to makeout any signs of consciousness. “Hood?” 

There’s no response from him, no movement. You tug his helmet off, finding him eyes-closed with blood running down the side of his head. You push a hand down on his chest armor, shaking him. “J? J!”

His eyes flutter open slowly under his domino mask, adjusting to the light. With the disorientation on his face he looks younger, more his age. His hair is tousled up and you can make out some distinct curls in it when it's undone like this. 

He grimaces, gloved hand coming up to his head. He looks wearily at the blood on his fingers, before plopping his hand back down and blinking up at you. “Hey..”

You sit back on your heels with a sigh, “What the fuck?”

He makes a strained effort to sit up on his own so you try to heave him up by his forearm. As he comes up all the way you glance behind his back at a bag crumpled discarded on the floor. You can barely see some sort of fabric poking out the top. “What is that?”

“Huh?” He throws back a tired glance, “Oh. They're..curtains.”

“Explain.”

He looks at you blankly, “You don’t have any curtains.”

You blink. “Explain.”

“It’s dangerous for people to just be able to look in and see you. So. Curtains.” For a guy who reads Dostoevsky, he’s not much of a wordsmith. Though that could be the concussion. 

You reach around him and pull some of the fabric out of the bag, inspecting the linen. They match the theme of your living room.

You set it back down, blinking. “Thanks.”

He only gives a half-hearted shrug.

You look back at him, “How bad is the…?” You gesture to the side of your head.

He feels at the blood again, “It’s mostly just a cut. Shoulda stopped bleeding by now.”

You nod, “I’ll, uh—I’ll clean it up.”

He looks at you, shaking his head. “You don’t need to. Your kit’s almost empty anyways.”

“I restocked it,” you tell him, rising to stand. He lets you go retrieve your aid box without protest, listening blankly to the faucet run in the bathroom while you’re gone.

You return momentarily, damp rag in one hand, kit in the other. “Here, sit on the couch,” you tell him, nodding him up. 

He lugs himself up off the hardwood and onto the cushion with a groan. You position yourself on the cushion next to him, leaning over to inspect the cut. You brush through his hair as gently as you can, though you have to suspect he wouldn’t have minded either way—if only based on the pain threshold you know him to have.

As much as you are completely in his space, you’re having trouble getting all the access you need to fix him up right. You turn and adjust your angle this way and that but none of it works. 

You huff, sitting back. “I can’t..”

He nods his permission at you without delay, and you shift yourself over to sit fully on his lap, straddling him on the sofa. You put your focus into cleaning his wound, but you have to notice how deep he’s breathing and how he’s seemingly trying very hard to avoid eye contact. You’re sure your own breath is uneven and telling, and frankly you’re kind of hoping he has a concussion just so he might not notice it.

An unexpected sting has him flinching and grabbing your hips on instinct, a certain heaviness lingering in the air after contact. His hand tenses and he’s about to remove them from you completely when you manage to catch his gaze, and the few moments of silent eye contact are enough to convince him to stay. He forces his hands to relax against your waist, his fix on your face wavering before fizzling away completely.

You go back to dabbing at the blood and it’s clear that his thoughts get the better of him quickly. “You should move.”

“But then where would you go?”

He makes a rumbling noise from the back of his throat at that, saying nothing more.

You continue to wipe away at the blood until you can’t see it anymore, beyond the slice of the cut. You misjudge your own spatial awareness as you pull back from him, and the tips of your noses graze. Though the contact surprises you, you don’t move away from it. You become very acutely aware of his touch on your waist, how warm it feels atop your shirt. 

His head leans forward just barely before stopping. He retreats slightly and his body ultimately decides to come closer. He doesn’t stop until his lips, slightly parted, skim across yours.

Your breath catches as he looms nearer, lips touching against yours softly. He tests that pressure out for a moment, before moving to kissing you with more intent. You kiss him back, and though there’s an increasing resolve on both of your parts, the connection itself remains gentle, reposeful.

The last slight movement of his lips gradually slips away as he rests his forehead against yours.

A long beat passes before he’s tightening his grip on your waist and pulling you up to stand. You aren’t given the time to process the shift as he’s moving straight past you, head down. He pauses only when he gets to the window, back turned to you.

“Sorry—I’m…” his shoulders drop, “Sorry.” 

He climbs out and scales the fire escape in total silence until he’s gone completely.

You stand frozen in position, staring at the window with incredulity burning across your face.

What the fuck?

Two weeks pass of voided midnight visits. 

You’re not sure what to make of that. He kissed you, not the other way around. You couldn’t possibly have done something to upset him or throw him off since he’s the only one who did anything. All in all, it’s a little disappointing.

There had been tension there and it wasn’t shocking for you to learn that he wanted to kiss you. It was a bit of a surprise for him to actually do it, though not a bad one. But you were thrown for a grand fucking loop when he immediately bailed out.

Maybe you can’t read him as well as you think because you’d expected him to at least say something about it. It was a borderline given that he would come back and there would be a bonus surplus of tension but then there would be a resolution. Because he wouldn’t kiss you and then never come back. Nobody would do that, it doesn’t make sense.

It’s a little more than embarrassing to admit that you’ve been purposefully staying home in the hope that he’ll drop in. After fifteen nights of disappointment, you decided to put your focus elsewhere.

You’d asked a friend of yours to go out with you tonight, and never one to decline a night out, she agreed happily. 

The bell above the door jingles as you crack it open, peaking your head in. You find Chloe quickly, stood behind the bar with bottles in hand.

“Hey gorgeous,” she smiles at you, waving you in.

You step in, air conditioning hitting you hard. The sparkles on her cocktail dress catch your eye as she turns this way and that, trying to find the right spot for the whiskey. 

Chloe hums to herself as she searches, honestly taking a bit longer than she should. “You been cool?”

You nod, “Yeah, just—you know…” She doesn’t. Your affiliation with the Red Hood is something you’ve kept to yourself, though you don’t know why. It would be safer, more responsible to let someone else know about these drop-ins, but something about it feels personal. A strange feeling to tack onto it, you think. A regrettable one, at least. 

You take a deep breath, “You’ve been busy. Jessie call out again?”

She laughs dryly, “Oh yeah, of course. But it's fine, I love staying over an hour after close.” She sighs, “I’m almost done anyway.”

You circle around the bar, looking over the several yet-to-be-sorted bottles. “You need help?”

“No, there’s—” she cuts herself off as she looks over at the front door, face dropping. “Oh, shit. Duck.”

“Wha—” she yanks you down to the floor to crouch awkwardly behind the counter.

You hear the bell ring as the door swings open, followed by several pairs of footsteps and low voices.

“—Christ, if she forgets to lock the door one more fucking time I’m gonna kill her.”

You look at Chloe through furrowed eyebrows, her grip on you still tight. She shakes her head and puts a finger to her lips.

A second man mutters something you can’t make out.

The first voice continues, “Go around back and lug the crates in, we gotta start packing that shit.” 

Another voice, “The crates? They’re not here..”

There’s a heavy beat before the first voice speaks, “What the fuck do you mean they’re not here? She needs them now.”

“Well…the first shipments will be in later this week. The next batch’ll take until the end of the month, probably.”

A sigh, “Dumbass…”

The first voice huffs, “The end of the month? Are you fucking kidding me? I told you to get that shit ready weeks ago and you’ve got it coming in at the end of the month?” 

“I’ll…I’ll see what I can do to get it sooner.”

“Yeah, you do that,” he grumbles. “Motherfucker. I need a drink. Get a bottle of something.”

One of the men rounds the counter, tracks falling short at the sight of you and Chloe huddled against the counter.

“What the fuck?”

You and Chloe are wide-eyed and frozen as he sneers down at you. Still, he looks like he’s trying to be tougher than he is, compensating for size that he does not have, with an attitude that doesn’t match up with the way he sped around the counter to get the other man a drink.

Another guy comes around and you quickly recognize him as the man in charge. He frowns at Chloe, sighing, “You’re not supposed to be here still, Chloe.”

She shifts her weight, “I was just…finishing inventory…”

The bossman’s eyes move to you, laced with nothing but inconvenience. “Oh and you brought a friend. Great.” 

“Mr. Murray, we were just ab—”

He’s quick to cut her off with a hand, “Chloe. Stop talking.”

Her face falls flat and her words die off without hesitation.

“Get up.”

She’s pushing herself off the ground instantly while you’re still on the floor catching up with what the hell’s going on. As she moves out from behind the bar, you scurry to follow her. Your arm bumps against hers as you fiddle with the seams at the bottom of your outfit.

You dressed to go out with your friend on a Friday night, not to meet three mobsters in a closed bar with no witnesses. That’s to say, you’re feeling a little exposed.

You stand in the center of the bar, the three men looking various degrees of annoyed looks across their faces. Though the oldest looking of the bunch has something else in his eyes as he looks you up and down, in no rush to hide his engrossment in your bare legs.

“How old are you, honey?” Even without the blatant ogling, that’s never a good question to hear from a fifty year old man.

Your eyes avert to the floor, lips pursing. 

“Hey, don’t be rude. I asked you a question.” He nudges your chin up a bit rougher than necessary, forcing you to look him in the eyes. 

Somehow, you feel like there’s no answer here that would help you. 

The man at the bar serves as an unexpected saving grace of sorts, muttering, “We don’t have time for this.”

Your pursuer shakes his head, looking you over in a way that makes you feel very small. “I think we got plenty of time.”

“I disagree.”

All heads whip to the doorway where the Red Hood leans against the frame, checking his phone. A never invited but always welcome addition to the party. At least for you.

The man in front of you instantly steps back, putting some distance between the two of you. Hands across the room instinctively fly to holsters only to begrudgingly relax at their sides, probably figuring drawing on Red Hood isn’t in their best interest. Though your focus lies on the bell above his head that didn’t make a peep whenever he came in.

Hood shuts his phone off and puts it away with a quiet sigh before glancing up at the tension-filled room. He literally double takes when his helmet scans past you. You somehow feel more in trouble now than you did two minutes ago. 

“Hood..” the bossman says measuredly. “What are you doing here?”

He stares at you for a second longer before tearing his gaze away. “Just thought I’d check up on you, Murray. Make sure you’re not causing trouble in light of our agreement.” He makes a point of looking back at you and Chloe at that last part before looking to Murray expectantly.

He waves that off easily, “This is nothing. Just two late-shift employees.”

Hood takes a piqued breath. “You picked a bad time to lie to me,” he says flatly.

Murray shakes his head, “Look, we’re just cleaning up a mess. No harm.”

“Really?”

“This clean up benefits you too, they heard too much. The one girl—Chloe, get out. She’s fine, she’s not talking.”

Chloe wastes no time exiting hastily. Bye Chloe.

He continues, “We only need to kill one of them.” He says it like this is an ideal compromise. You’re feeling differently.

Hood huffs, pulling out a gun from his holster. “I’m thinking it’s implied that killing innocent people is a form of causing trouble. Which is in direct violation of our agreement.” He cocks the gun, pointing it at Murray’s head.

Murray steps back dramatically, throwing his hands up. “Hey, an alliance is an alliance!”

Hood wavers his head to the side, “Alliance is a strong word. Temporary tolerance maybe…”

The short man pipes up, “Okay, calm down, calm down. Nobody needs to get killed. We can cooperate.”

“That’s the spirit,” Hood quips, lowering his gun.

The older one shakes his head, “We don’t have anything on her, she’ll talk.”

The short man demurs, “We don’t know that—”

“She saw too much, we can’t have her walking around with that information,” Murray says, moving towards you. 

Hood puts his hands up like some kind of mediator, “Nobody’s killing anybody.”

Murray scoffs, “You were gonna kill me!”

Hood's hands drop as he stands in full, “And I still might!”

Boldly, Murray steps up to him.

But Hood looks down at him, easily a full head taller than him and at least twice his muscle mass. “Let's weigh out your odds here, Murray. Is that a fight you’re winning?”

The look on Murray’s face tells you it’s not and he struggles to maintain this chest to chest confrontation.

It only takes him a moment of wavering to decide to back off, though he sure as hell doesn’t look happy about it. 

Hood pushes past him, grabbing you by the arm and pulling you towards him. 

Murray splutters, watching you go. “You can’t—I-I know people.”

“I am people,” Hood grumbles, steering you towards the door.

Though you can be sure they have them, no one voices any objections aa he pulls you outside.

His stride doesn’t even falter as he marches you down the sidewalk in the direction of your apartment. Aside from the sound of the breeze wisping past your ears, it’s silent between you.

After two blocks you get the strong impression that this muted exchange of energy is just going to keep on, so you force yourself to find something to rattle off about. “That uh, that seems like something he’s gonna be mad about.”

He huffs, “Yeah, well he can get over it or die so I guess it’s a personal choice.”

You frown at his tone, “What’s your problem?”

That was, apparently, the wrong thing to say as his head snaps in your direction. “Why the hell are you out here?”

His sharp attitude has you stumbling a bit. “Why are you out here? You have a concussion.”

“I don’t have a concussion,” he grumbles. “And I just saved your life so maybe complaining about it isn’t your best move right now.”

You try to stop and face him but he doesn’t let you, keeping you moving along with him. “That’s what we’re doing? Really?” 

Are these about the social skills that you had expected from him based on your first meeting? Yeah. But that first meeting was months ago. He’s proven again and again that he has half a brain and the ability to read a room so you’re really not fucking sure what the hell his problem is. He won’t acknowledge that he kissed you and all but jumped out your living room window, but he will snap at you for asking about his concussion that there’s no way he doesn’t have. Especially if he’s acting like this. 

He ignores your comment, blatantly at that. “Did they say anything about a drug shipment?”

This is what we’re talking about? Sure. Fine. At least you’re talking. 

You open your mouth briefly before closing it again, eyes narrowed. “I don’t know.”

He tries again, “What about Nocturna? Did you hear that name?”

“I…I don’t know.” You weren’t exactly taking notes behind the bar counter. 

His head drops down heavily, “Okay, I think I’m seeing a trend for how this conversation’s gonna go...”

You gawk at him, astonished that he thinks it’s you who’s handling this discussion poorly. “You cannot be serious right now.”

He sighs, slowing as you approach the steps to your building, “Just—why’d they let Chloe go?”

You blink a few times, “I mean, she has a drug problem…” You guess that might be where she’s getting them from…

He nods solemnly, “Okay.”

You huff, turning to walk up the steps, shoulders heavy. You hope he’ll come up with you and maybe, just maybe, address the elephant in the room. 

“Are you—” you turn around to face him again, met with nothing but vacant air. 

A deep, tense, breath from you before calling out, “Really?”

One month. One month. And he decides to show up tonight like it’s no time lost. But there was some fucking time lost.

Count ‘em up, that’s one period, two paychecks, three grocery trips, four laundry days, and thirteen showers. And that stupid fucking vigilante ransacked your head during every single one.

You went through the five stages of grief for this bizarre, undefinable relationship and then discovered about six more while you were at it. 

So when you walk out from the bathroom, you’re a little pissed to see him sitting there on your living room floor, helping himself to a glass of water. 

Maybe it’s his domino mask that gives his expression the illusion of neutrality. Or maybe he really has no idea how insane it is that he would occupy your apartment like this after skipping out on you for an entire lunar cycle.

He leans against your armchair, inspecting a scratch on his lower arm. You enter silently, watching him the whole time as you make your way over to the far end of the couch.

He doesn’t look up at you though, not until after a minute or two of silence. 

“You got any bandages left?” he asks, throwing a glance over his shoulder. 

You stare at him incredulously. 

After ten seconds with no response from you, he turns around fully, frowning. “What?”

“Are you kidding me?”

“I—” he squints, eyes flickering across your face. “No?”

You continue to gawk at him, not trying for any words.

He stares back, eyes wide. “I don’t know what you want me to say...”

You tear your gaze from him, preferring to stare at the wall. “You know what, I think I know what your problem is.”

He gives a laugh with little life to it. “I only have one?”

You bite down on your lip, “You only have one I’m ready to kill you over.”

He sits with that for a minute. A long minute, before asking softly, “What is it?”

You shake your head, glaring at an unoccupied nail in the wall. “That you’re an idiot,” you mutter. You start to walk away before turning around again after a few steps. “Where the hell have you been?”

He blinks, “Uh, there’s just been a lot of—”

“Bullshit.”

He’s about to argue his point, but quickly decides to concede, “Yeah.” He takes a deep breath, sitting back. “I…wasn’t prepared for this conversation,” he says carefully.

You scoff with a nod, “Yeah, neither was I, but it’s happening. I m—what did you think was going to happen here? I—you kissed me, you kissed me!”

“No I—” he huffs, “I shouldn’t have done that, okay?”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

He sighs, throwing his hands up at his sides. “What do you want me to say?”

You shrug without genuinity, “Anything that could possibly rationalize that sequence of decisions. You kiss me, run away, ghost me for a fucking month, and then show up again like nothing happened.”

He shuts his eyes, shaking his head. “I know, I know, I’m sorry!”

“I’m not asking you to be sorry, I’m asking you to pick a fucking lane and stick to it!”

He falls silent at that, eyes on the floor. It’s quiet for long enough that you start to think he’ll accept the silence as his cue to leave. You’re not sure if you want him to or not.

You take a deep breath, eyes closed. “I need you to start being straight with me. Now.”

He doesn’t look up, taking his time to find his words. “I am sorry,” he tells you. “I…I’m not good at this. I’m not good with words so I shouldn’t have fucking done it.”

Honestly you weren’t expecting him to actually come up with a reason, so you’re not prepared to weigh out whether or not it’s a good one.

“I like you...a lot. And I didn’t know—I don’t know—what to do about it so I kissed you and I didn’t think it through, and…I guess I panicked.”

That’s more than enough for you to warrant looking back over at him. It doesn’t take long for your gaze to start shifting around awkwardly while you scratch at your neck. “I would’ve taken you for more of a fight over flight kinda guy.”

He nods to himself. “Jus’ depends..” he says quietly.

And then it seems neither of you have anything else to say. You’ve run out of angry words to spit and he’s run out of apologies and excuses. But neither of you feel like you’re done.

The quiet lingers on for a painful amount of time. Your annoyance dissipates into something else, something more uncomfortable, but you couldn’t find a name for it. It’s got your thoughts going faster though and your chest feeling more hollow. Maybe not hollow…maybe just softer. 

He cuts through your thoughts before you can, “Are you mad that I kissed you?”

You shake your head, “No. I’m mad about what happened after.” You’re just mad about what happened after. Should’ve said just.

He thinks about that for a moment. 

“I can be honest with you,” he tells you. The way he says it, it’s somewhere between a peace offering and an assurance to himself.

You look at him again. He reads oddly vulnerable for a man his size with his reputation. You believe him. 

He goes on, “I trust you, you know? I want you to trust me too, if you can.”

You blink a few times, processing. “I…I don’t know anything about you.”

He nods, an anxious aura radiating around him. He leaves you hanging for longer than a few moments, getting you convinced that the conversation is just going to end there.

It doesn’t though, and after a few minutes, he sits up and reaches up to his mask.

It has you sitting up too, like he just pulled out a gun. Your hands fly up instinctually, as though this is completely uncalled for, as if he’s crazy for doing it.

He pauses his movements for a moment, making eye contact with you. His eyes reaffirm his words. He trusts you and he wants you to trust him.

You allow your hands to relax onto your lap and he continues on, taking his mask off.

You’re not revealed to much more of his face than you’d already seen before, but entirely in view like this, he’s a sight. You try not to stare but there’s little reward to removing him from your sight whereas the alternative…

All together like this you can see how his features balance his face out so nicely and make for a warm countenance, if not rough.

He takes a deep breath, setting his mask to the side. “My name is J…” he says with assurance. “Todd,” he tacks on.

You don’t mean to, really, but you’re sure the frown on your face is evident as puzzle pieces start forming and connecting in your mind. 

J…Todd…J…Jay…Todd…Jason…Todd…

Your mouth hangs open, “You’re Jason Todd. You’re de—” Well a couple things are starting to add up. “How are you…how are you not—”

He waves that away, tiredly. “It's a long story. Not particularly happy, either.”

Autopsy scar. Fuck. 

“I mean, I’ll…” he hesitates, “I’ll tell you if you want me to.”

He says it, but discomfort is painted across his face. You’re quick to shake your head, “It’s okay.”

He nods, likely relieved.

You stand up from your seat, crossing the room to sit down next to him. You’d half-expected him to tense up, but his body relaxes when you lean back against the chair.

You close your eyes before asking, “Who’s Nocturna?”

“She’s just this woman that’s been causing trouble for us.”

You don’t say anything and he continues on, shaking his head. “She’s more annoying than anything.”

You open your eyes, looking over. “Yeah?”

He shrugs, “Just trying to take over the underworld, the usual stuff. Nothing you need to worry about.”

You give a laugh that’s barely more than an exhale, relaxing your body completely..

There’s the slightest lull in activity before he sets his hand down on the floor, right on top of yours. The sounds of your breathing are the only thing that fill the room for a few minutes, save for the occasional car horn.

He glances at the clock on the wall, nearing midnight. “I have to go...” He says reluctantly.

You try not to let the disappointment show through your body language. “Go where?”

He pauses before telling you,  “A cemetery.”

You nod vacantly, “Oh. Just for fun, or…?”

He gives a dry laugh, “Just meeting an associate. They’re a bit dramatic, so.”

“Yeah, I’d say.”

“I’ll come back—I’m going to come back,” he mutters against your hairline.

You don’t respond, but you both know he’s good for his promise.

He looks around your apartment for a second before seemingly getting an idea. He pushes himself up off the ground and heads for your kitchen. You watch as he rips a sticky note off the deck on your fridge and scribbles something down on it. 

He returns to you, kneeling down and pushing the square of paper into your hand. “Here,” he says, looking you in the eye. “If you need anything. Anything.”

You engulf the note in your palm, nodding sincerely. His eyes flicker across your face, like he’s thinking about something. He hesitates for a moment, turning towards you, away from you, then towards you again. He holds the back of your head tenderly before pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead.

You look at each other up close for a second with nothing short of starry eyes before he turns away and ducks out the window.

You open up your palm and look down at the paper, at the ten digits scrawled across it.

Huh.

Must be official. 

🧨 reblog or die (this is a threat) 🧨

[thewispsings]

elevators and fears (redbull!driver)

pairing. max verstappen x reader x charles leclerc

summary: redbull!reader gets stuck in a elevator with her teammate, max verstappen, and charles leclerc.

notes. first oneshot of my redbull!reader, hope you enjoy :)

redbull!reader masterlist

‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋

Elevators were a dangerous thing, and you found it strange how underestimated they were. They move at an unsafe speed, it could malfunction at any time, and they get stuck in between floors more often than people thought. 

Being a Formula One driver, constantly traveling around the world meant you spent more than enough time in hotels, which meant, you spent more than enough time in elevators. 

Your fear of elevators wasn't something you talked about often, it was something private, or more so embarrassing. And you didn't want anyone to tease you about it. It would probably be like the time you told Charles you might, sorta, kinda, have a fear of planes. Next thing you knew, you were jumping out of a plane with a parachute attached to your back. Your team thought it would be a good idea so you would, ‘get over your fear’ You didn't talk to Charles and his blabber mouth for two weeks after that.

So when you stayed in hotels, you always took the stairs. You killed two birds with one stone, you worked out, kept your weight down, and stayed away from the death machine. 

Normally you would leave the paddock alone, leaving Max and Cheo there, while you tucked in early.

This time it was different, it was the Mexican Grand Prix, one of your favorites, the culture, the passion, and the fun. However, that also meant that you were worn out by the time the interviews were wrapped up. Max normally wasn't, he could talk with the people at the paddock for hours, but he didn't this time.

He insisted on joining you on the way back to the hotel, you would never deny his company, so together you made your way back to the hotel. It was late at night, the streets were empty, and both you and Max talked as you walked, your managers along with some cameramen trailed behind you two. 

Halfway through the walk, you stumbled across Charles and his team, you three found a pace and walked together all the rest of the short walk.

You were exhausted by the time you arrived, and all you wanted to do was sleep. So politely you said goodbye to your managers, who decided to spend some more time down at the bar.

You were walking towards the hotel stairs, not realizing both Max and Charles were hot on your tail. 

“Where are you going?” Max questioned behind you. 

You paused, closing your eyes tightly before turning to the two men in confusion, you thought they were going down to the bar with the others, “Uh,” you glanced over the elevator, where a group of Red Bull workers, (you could tell because of their shirts) were exiting out of. “Up to my room.” 

Charles tilted his head, “But you were going to the stairs.”

You nodded slowly, taking the time to answer, “Yeah, I thought I would take a quick workout, you know.” 

Max furrowed his eyebrows, he always hated it when you overworked yourself, “You worked out this morning.” “You can never work out enough.” you shrugged. 

“Yes, you can.” Max stood firm.

You two stared at each other for a moment, you saw Charles turn to you, before turning to Max, and then turning to you, he reached over for your hand and took it, walking you over to the elevator, not noticing your horror-filled eyes. You felt Max trail behind you. 

“You guys have crazy tension,” Charles commented as you watched the elevator doors close in front of you, it was like slow motion, it was like the doors were teasing you. 

You hadn't been in an elevator in over three months at this point, you felt your heart drop, you gripped the wall handle tightly, feeling the metal dig into your skin, you took a deep breath trying to stay calm. “Like you and Max don't?" 

Shouts of disagreement came from the two men, thankfully you three were the only ones in the death machine, Max reached over and pressed the ‘9th-floor’ button, “Not romantic tension.” he grumbled. 

“We have romantic tension?” you teased, trying to distract yourself from the feeling of the elevator starting up.

Max glared at you mockingly, Charles stared down at you in concern, his eyes following to where you were gripping the handlebar in what seemed to be despair, your body pressing itself against the wall, “Are you okay?” 

You swallowed thickly, and nodded, “Yeah, yeah. I just really wanted to take the stairs, you know…for the workout.” 

“What is it with you and working out? Did someone say something about you needing to lose weight? Because if they did, I swear to–” a blood-curling scream erupted from your lips, interrupting Max’s sentence, when the elevator suddenly stopped, jolting you forward before throwing you back into the wall.

“Holy shit.” you gasped looking up at the flickering lights. “What happened?” you turned to Charles, your voice dripping with desperation. 

The other two men did not seem half as concerned as you, as Charles looked up with a small frown, “Hm.” he hummed, “I think the elevator stopped.” 

Max nodded with an eye roll, “Yeah I think so too.” 

You groaned, sliding down onto the floor with tears welding up in your eyes. This was it. You were going to die. 

Charles instantly fell to the floor with you, questions spewing out of his mouth, “What’s wrong? Are you okay? What’s wrong? Oh, please don't cry.” 

Max kneeled behind him, a deep frown on his face. “We're going to die.” you whimpered, hands desperately clinging to the floor.

Max shook his head, reaching over to hold your hand, “No we're not.” He pulled you up slowly, "It's just a stopped elevator, we'll be fine.” 

You shook your head vigorously, “No. No. We're going to die. We're going to die in this stupid elevator, and I'm never going to win a world championship, or win multiple champions, or win the most championships.” you groaned, “Oh god I'm never going to win a world championship.”

Charles hid his amused smile behind his hand, “We are going to get out,” he pulled on the emergency button multiple times,” See, they’ll come get us out soon…and you’ll win a world championship. Trust me.”

You shook your head, but didnt say any more, Charles and Max both watched you, holding in their laughs until they physically couldn’t anymore. Charles was the first to break. 

You watched in offense as Charles doubled over in laughter, “Are you laughing at me?”

Charles tried to sober up, shaking his hand, “No. No.” you scoffed rolling your eyes, Charles walked over to you, bringing you into a hug, “I’m not I swear.” he exchanged a look with Max. “It’s just… you’re scared of elevators?” he giggled once more. 

You pushed him off you lightly, “Shut up before I don’t talk to you for two months this time.” 

That certainly got him quiet. 

You looked around the elevator, avoiding eye contact with Max, your palms sweating. “Shut up Max,” you grumbled, hearing him finally break into laughter. 

“How did I not know you are scared of elevators?” he chuckled, you shot a sharp look to Charles, who avoided eye contact.  

“Because the last time I told someone what I was scared of, I was thrown out of a plane.”

Max gasped, a thoughtful look on his face, “I remember that!” 

Normally you would have laughed at the adorable look on Max’s face, but you were too busy fearing for your life. 

“Wait.” Charles butt in, “I’ve seen you ride elevators before.”

You gave him a strange look, shaking your head, “No. You haven’t.” 

Charles hummed, squinting his eyes. Max turned to you with his head titled, “Wait. So you just take the stairs, like all the time?” 

You nod, wondering why the maintenance people were taking so long. 

“Even at your apartment?” Charles gasped. You nod again, “But you live on the tenth floor?” Max’s eyes were wide, he had done that climb, you both lived at the same apartment building, on the same floor, and it was hell. He refused to work out for a week after that. 

“Why do you think my quads are so strong?” You teased, both Max and Charles took a look at your thighs simultaneously, letting out sounds of approval. 

“Wow.” Charles gazed in amazement, “Maybe I should start taking the stairs.” 

“But how come I’ve never seen you take the stairs?” Max asked. 

“Have you ever taken the stairs before Max?” You asked slowly, he shook his head, answering, “Only once.”

“That’s why.” 

The next few moments were silent, you kept your eyes shut, while Max and Charles took the opportunity to take photos of your–what they deemed–‘cute’ face. 

Your freakout was cut off by the sound of loud yells coming from above you. 

“You guys okay in there?” You heard a gruff, muffled voice.

“Yes!” Both Max and Charles coursed, while you did the opposite, “No!” you whispered, clinging onto the wall harder. 

Both Max and Charles stood by your side, rolling their eyes, “We’re okay.” Charles assured the man, “When can you get us out?” he glanced down at you, worried, yes he teased, but he nor Max wanted to see you have a panic attack, which you looked on the verge of. 

“Soon.” was all the man replied before he went silent for ten minutes. 

‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋

Stepping out of the elevator, you had never been so relieved, you had nearly kissed the floor in happiness, although your tear-stained face was more than embarrassing, especially since the firefighter who had got you out, asked for a picture. Perfectly capturing your humiliation. Charles and Max looked perfect, what’s new, but you? Hair Deshilved, eyes red, and a frown on your face. Yeah, you were not going to live this down. By this time tomorrow, everyone will be talking about the elevator incident. 

You had spent no more time than needed before you made your way to your room, taking a quick, hot shower, before slipping on your pajamas. 

You were snuggled into bed, kicking your feet under the sheets, happy to be comfortable and cozy, and not stuck in a metal box.

A knock on your door ruined it. You groaned, swatting off your bed sheets before hurrying over to the door, “What?” you snapped, swinging the door wide open. 

On the other side stood Max and Charles, in their pajamas, holding a pillow in their right hand, and a blanket in their left. You sighed. 

“Can we sleep over?” Max asked slowly, lifting his pillow slightly. 

You said nothing, you just opened the door wider and stepped to the side, the boys shared a smile before practically running into your room. 

You closed the door slowly, letting out a deep, exhausted sigh. 

Walking back into the room, you saw Max and Charles, sitting on the ends of the bed, both wrapped up in their blankets. This wasn’t an odd occurrence. You had sleepovers with them, along with others, for more times than you could count.

Max patted the middle of the bed with a giddy smile. You slipped under the covers, pulling the blanket up to your neck. 

You stayed like that for a few minutes, slowly slipping into unconsciousness. The two boys provided more than enough warmth from your sides. 

“Why didnt you tell us you were scared of elevators?” Charles broke the silence, you opened one eye, peeking up at him. 

“Because it’s embarrassing.” You murmured. 

“I mean yeah.” Max joined, “But you still could have told us,” he glanced at Charles, “Or at least you could have told me.” 

“There’s no point.” you shrugged, “It’s a fear, there’s nothing you can do.”  

“We could have tried therapy.” Charles tried. 

“God no.” you groaned, “The press would have a field day with that.”

Max rolled his eyes, “Stop worrying about the press, they don’t matter, and therapy could help.” 

“Yeah, or like hypnosis.” Charles beamed. 

“You believe in that?” You looked up at Charles with a raised brow, before shaking your head. “It’s fine, guys. I promise.” Although you couldn’t deny how special it made you feel that they were worrying this much about you. 

“How about we try taking it slow.” Charles suggested, “Like a small, one-level trip at a time.” That sounded awful, but if they were willing to help, you had to be willing to try, if you were honest, taking the stairs all the time was staring to become exhausting, even if it did make your legs looks great.

You sighed, nodded, “Okay.” before quickly adding, “But not this week. Next week?” 

Charles laughed, and nodded, “We’ll start next week, right Max?” 

Hearing no reply, you both turned to Max, who had his mouth open, eyes closed, and small huffs leaving his mouth, asleep, “That’s cute.” you whispered. 

Charles scoffed, before letting a small nod of agreement. “I’m cuter though.” 

[dxxdhood]

drains me slowly

pairing: wade wilson x gn!reader

summary: deadpool finally invites you, the coworker he has a massive crush on, over, which means the two of you end up doing more than just watching a movie.

tags: smut (18+), sub!wade wilson, dom!reader, pain kink, use of superpowers to fuel a pain kink, light masochism, teasing, gentle dom, hand job, scratching, body worship

wc: 3.3k

a/n: fic inspired by the new deadpool movie coming out!!! also, title is from love me dead by ludo.

No surprise that Wade wasn’t exactly anyone’s favorite– that goes for among the heroes he’s worked with and throughout his life in general. He’s – to put it in the kindest way anyone’s ever told him – fucking annoying. Oh, he’s more than aware that he’s a little too out-of-pocket, abrasive, impulsive– a nightmare to interact with, really. And those were just the recent comments made by the closest thing he has to coworkers! The shit he heard from people growing up was leagues worse. 

Look, having a rough start in life isn’t uncommon and he’s sure as hell not gonna get the tiny violin out for himself and throw his own little pity party, but he’s grown enough since his healing factor got beat out of him to acknowledge that he’s had it tough over the years.

He’s still going, though! Yeah, he may not always be the best at doing his laundry quick enough to get any clean clothes to wear, or at stopping his room from becoming cluttered with too many half-empty water bottles, but he’s still making it by, day by day.

But, well, it’s still really hard to constantly put himself out there, get assigned – or infinitely more likely, just shove himself into – whatever jobs or missions he feels like taking on when everyone treats him like Jar Jar Binks.

That was until you came along. So, obviously you’re crazy hot – he’s gotta get that out of the way first – but more than that, you were confident. Competent, too, and those rarely coincide in Wade’s experience. You mostly worked on call, joining the occasional mission, battle, or investigation because your mutant powers came in handy often, but you also still kept up with your day job. Honestly, Wade thinks the reason why you weren’t always present in fights was to stop the other mutants from being out of a job. Your ability to slowly deteriorate surrounding biological tissue, while horrifying and a pain in the ass to control – your words – was basically winning on easy mode.

But no, you were adamant about keeping your involvement with the X-Men infrequent– only joining when your presence was absolutely necessary. Apparently nonstop high stress situations aren't good for your mental health– who knew?

And he wants to pretend he became obsessed with you because of all those things, and of course they helped, but really, you had him at hello. Or well, you bothering to say hello and actually talk to him in the first place, to ask him questions about his life in moments of downtime where usually he’d be left with an unenthusiastic audience instead of a warm-hearted listener who actually laughed at his jokes.

So, of course, he has to go and fuck it up.

…

“So, glad that’s over, huh?” Wade says through a smile, the whites of his mask squeezing as his cheeks rise. “Speaking of over, you wanna come?”

“Over?” you shake your head a little, flashing your teeth as you try and comprehend him. “Right after we took on a whole crime ring?”

“Well, what a better time to unwind, am I right?”

“Oh?” you raise your eyebrows. “We’re unwinding?”

It’s small, but you swear Wade ups his talking speed, “Well, yeah, you know. Watch a movie, order in, show you my Pokemon cards, the works.”

You hum, pretending to consider it, “Depends, you got a holo Charizard?”

And now, for sure, he exhales his relief. “You insult me.”

The two of you enter his apartment not long after you’re dismissed from the mission, and Wade briefly excuses himself to change out of his suit. Making yourself at home, you take a seat on the couch and glance across his living room. His apartment is surprisingly nice. The kitchen and living room are one large, open space with a sleek, modern design. Also, you’d assume someone as chaotic as Wade would keep their house in a messier state, or hell, at least a little dusty, but the living room is spotless. Maybe he cleaned recently? What, was he planning on inviting someone over?

Snorting as you shake your head, a small click from across the hall catches your attention.

You’ve only seen Wade on the job, so naturally he’s always been wearing his red suit, but for some reason, you never stopped to picture him wearing civilian clothes. Actually, now that you’re seeing him in a sweatshirt and sweatpants – awfully warm for this weather – you’re struggling to reconcile the image of him you had in your head with the person right in front of you.

Well, at least until Wade brings up a fist to cover his mouth, illustrating his nervousness, and the tension fizzles out. Only Wade has body language that cartoonishly exaggerated.

“Nice sweats, green looks good on you.”

Wade pauses for a moment, registering your words before he giggles softly, arm falling to his side, “I’ve been thinking about changing the color of my suit. You know, hiding all the blood is great and all, but sometimes I gotta wonder – could this thing be more flattering?”

He walks over with a spring in his step before sitting by your side. Cutely, he wraps you up in the larger blanket first before settling the smaller, throw blanket over himself. You try your hardest not to show your confusion outwardly, but seeing Wade up close now has you questioning his outfit all the more.

He’s a bit tall, so the sweatpants don’t go all the way down to his ankles, but Wade’s wearing calf socks, as if he specifically were trying to avoid them being uncovered. Also, his hoodie’s easily a size or two larger, which makes it the perfect thing to wear to lounge around and watch a movie in, but also, the sleeves cover his entire hand sans his fingers. From the little you can see of them, they look puckered in scars.

But obviously Wade’s hands are scarred– he’s a mercenary. He’s handled all sorts of weapons and been in hundreds of fights over the years. You weren’t expecting his skin to be baby-smooth. 

What’s interesting to you is why he’d go through all the trouble to hide it.

Also, yeah, the most obvious pointers were that the hood of his sweatshirt is up even though you two are indoors in his own home and – how could you forget this one – his Deadpool mask is still on.

Was he just uncomfortable with sharing his identity in general or was he specifically trying to shove distance between the two of you? Whatever, if he doesn’t want to take his mask off with you, he doesn’t have to. You feel a distinct pang in your chest, but you try not to let it color how you respond to him. He’s more than in the right to only share what he feels most comfortable with.

Wade’s been fiddling with the remote while you’ve been – hopefully – subtly looking him over, and the screen finally changes from a streaming service page to the opening of the movie.

“We’re watching The Princess Bride? I didn’t take you for a romantic.”

He bats his eyes – at least, you think he does, given the mask– and speaks in a sweet voice “Why, me? Oh please, I know romance. I’m not going to invite a lovely, gorgeous, incredible person over and force them to watch Die Hard on the first–”

His back straightens out like he’s been electrocuted before he forcibly relaxes his posture to finish his thought.

“Hang-out.”

Okay, you want to go easy on him, especially because he seems so tense, but you can’t just let that one slide. You close the small distance remaining between the two of you, causing your entire side to press against his. Even through his sweatshirt, you can feel how warm he is.

“Mmm, just a hang out?” you mumble, sliding your head onto his shoulder. You’ve done this before, either for comedic effect or just in an attempt to push his buttons the same way he always tries to push yours – which, despite his best efforts, always ends up endearing him to you instead of bothering you – but never in a context like this.

He inhales sharply, and you count the seconds until he finally lets himself release it. Sometimes, you think he takes his healing factor for granted.

Turning his head to peer down at you, Wade considers you for a moment, keeping his face and body language deceptively neutral. You try your hardest to keep your eyes focused on the movie and your body loose and comfortable.

“You want this to be a date?” he says, flat.

“Why, thank you for asking, dear sir,” you copy his sweet voice from earlier before returning to your normal. “Yes, Wade, I like you.”

“I–” he starts, but the words get caught on their way out. His fingers bury themselves in the material of his sweatpants, and the movement draws your attention to them again. Shades of blotchy red and pink curve all across his skin.

Wade doesn’t say anything, which is concerning enough on its own, but following your confession, you feel like he’s more than out of his element. 

“That’s why you invited me over, right?” you try and help him out. “You feel the same, too.”

And then, feeling bold, you turn your head to face his still mask-covered head and kiss him lightly on the cheek. Instantly, you see fireworks go off inside him, because Wade hurriedly shuts the TV off and runs off to close the blinds. There’s barely enough light in the room now to make out shapes, but apparently Wade doesn’t take any issue because he peels his mask back and kisses you on the lips.

His lips are textured, and your intuition flashes quietly in the back of your mind, but for right now, you focus on how energetic he is. If his body is warm, his mouth feels like it’s on fire. He’s constantly moving, trying to experience all of you as fast as possible. 

It’s making your face heat up, how quickly he demands your complete attention and how relentless he is in grabbing it. Wade bites your bottom lip, causing you to gasp into him, and he uses the opportunity to explore across your own teeth and tongue. After a few more seconds, you break away, needing the space to breathe.

“Holy shit,” you whisper, voice rough.

“You’re telling me,” Wade coughs out. “We could’ve been doing that this whole time?”

“Well, all you had to do was ask.”

And although you can’t see him, which you know is the point, you understand something in him has shifted. He gets up from the couch, takes you by the hand, and leads you towards his room. His pace is so quick, you barely comprehend his actions until you’re both standing right in front of his bed.

“Is this okay?” he asks, quiet. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him stifle the amount of words he let loose before.

“Yes, of course it is. But Wade, we have to turn on at least a lamp or something in here.”

“We do?”

“Yeah,” you pause to give him a second to think. “I can’t see you at all like this.”

“What if – and you're just going to have to trust me on this one – you’d prefer it this way,” Wade’s voice is light, but it feels like it’s cracking at the edges.

“And why’s that?”

Not like you’d be able to see, but the anxiety radiating off of him makes him sound wide-eyed, “Huh? Oh, I– uh…”

“Look, if you’re worried about how I’m going to react to you having a bunch of scars– don’t. I don’t mind,” the sound of fabric rustling in front of you makes you think he just flinched. “I figured it out. You’re not sneaky.”

“You say that, but…”

“Wade, I don’t care. And I mean that kindly! Really, it doesn’t bother me.”

Wade starts pacing in front of you, nearly tripping on the leg of the bedpost, “Look, I appreciate the whole hero act you got going on here – really fits you good, you should totally quit your day job – but you don’t have to force yourself, I–”

“Wade, you either confront your insecurities head on or I’m not doing this with you. I told you what I think, the only person who’s going to worry about how you look here is you. We either have sex with a light on or not at all, okay?”

No one speaks for a few seconds once you finish saying your piece, and you cringe, realizing how forceful you must have come off. You’re about to speak up again to apologize when you hear a shudder-filled exhale from a few feet away.

“Jesus H. Christ,” he groans. “You’re so hot when you're putting people in their place.”

Your lips curl into a shaky smile, “Yeah, what else do you think is hot?”

And you can practically hear the gears turning in his head from here.

…

It’s actually happening. No fucking way he didn’t dream this up. But you were pretty adamant about him getting his head in the game in order for you guys to actually get down and dirty, so for you, he tries to keep his train of thought as focused as possible–  a big ask.

“Bossing anyone – everyone, especially me – around. You using your abilities–” you reach over and find Wade���s hand before running your fingers up his arm. “Shit, umm, using your abilities in general, but, umm, I really like when I’m there.”

“Oh?” you giggle. “When you get to watch, or?”

“When I get to feel.”

Your hand moves over to the nape of his neck, reaching under his hood and mask, to rub at his rough skin. Wade’s nerves light on fire as he waits for you to respond– for some reason, it never feels like your words come out fast enough.

“You got a thing for pain, Wilson?”

He chuckles, “You’d be surprised.”

“Okay, but are you sure? I can try, but it might not be all that good for you.”

“Don’t worry,” he thinks back to all those times he had a hard on while the two of you were fighting together. “It’ll be great for me.”

You hum, “Alright, then, but you tell me to stop the second you don’t like something, okay?”

“Aye, aye, captain,” he salutes, though you probably can’t see it. “And, same goes for you.”

“What a gentleman, letting me destroy him and giving me an out.”

He’s blushing something furious and he’s never been more grateful for the dark, “Anything for you.”

Those are the last words he whispers before he begins undressing. He knows you probably meant for him to strip with the light on, but he’s really not so sure he could stomach being looked at like a bug under a microscope. The attention, while electrifying, was already starting to get to him, so he lets himself stay in his comfort zone a little longer. As a treat. 

Once his sweats are off, he hesitantly peels off his mask before slipping into bed, keeping most of his body under the covers. After shutting his eyes, he clicks the lamplight on.

You’re not saying anything. That’s– a sign? A good one, a bad one, Wade doesn’t know. He’s trying so hard to keep his breathing steady, but he can feel his body start shaking all on its own.

You join him on the bed, kneeling next to him, before your warm breath falls across his cheeks as you kiss his forehead. Only then does he open his eyes, and you reward him by cupping his cheek in your hand.

“There,” you say. “Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Wade gets the strong urge to snort, and so he does, but your eyes narrow. There’s a soft scratching at the back of his skull as you snake your hand over, and quickly you dig your nails in slightly. Wade has to bite his tongue to keep the noise in.

“I’m sorry, is that funny to you?”

“No!” he whispers sharply as you bring your hand down to scratch along the line of his neck.

“Good, seems like you’re learning.”

You kiss him, teeth clacking together at first before Wade melts into it. Your hand is still slowly exploring his body, running along the line of his shoulder and towards his upper arm. When you reach his bicep, you very obviously squeeze the muscle there, and you let out a pleased sigh as you begin groping in earnest.

He wants to turn to hide his face in the pillow, not sure how to react to all the positive attention and appreciation, but you catch him trying to turn away, and you kiss him deeper.

While one hand begins to explore his pecs and abs, your other hand scratches down his v-line, softly caressing the skin of his inner thighs before moving around to squeeze his ass.

Wade rewards you with a small whine, and you carefully trail a finger down his dick. You move in to whisper in his ear, “You’re so hot, I’m not forgiving you for hiding for so long.”

Trying to stifle the embarrassing moan that he knows will come out, he bites down on his lip hard, but you take the hand not teasing his cock to gently pry his lip away.

“From now on, I get to hear you, okay?” you say and Wade nods rapidly.

You take the moment you wrap your hand around the base of his cock, and after giving him a second to ready himself, you ask, “I’m going to use it now. Tell me if you want to stop.”

“Okay–” he responds before he feels the sweet sensation of you jerking him off coupled with your power. It’s a humming, dull feeling of pain resting in the background– almost like the sensation of being choked except it’s affecting his entire body. Wade feels like there’s a weight pinning down each of his limbs and it’s so freeing– so relaxing.

He sighs and turns his head to the side, letting out a deep moan when you up the pace of your hand and bring the other to fondle his balls.

“How is it?” you ask, sweat dripping down your brow at trying to control your ability. Sure, it’s  powerful and at times pretty horrifying, but Wade always loved how he was essentially immune. At the same rate you could destroy the flesh around you, he could heal his own right back. Just knowing that made him feel good, somehow, like he was made perfectly for you.

“It’s good– so good, I–” he nearly shouts, forgetting about the neighbors.

“Yeah, baby? What do you need?”

At hearing the pet name, he straight up whines as he tries to bury his hands in the sheets instead of his own thighs. 

“Not sure, umm, a little more–”

And he doesn’t know which god he has to thank for putting you on this planet, but he’s willing to pay them all a visit. You read him like he’s not some mess, some walking disaster nobody bothers paying attention to, and you give him what you know he needs.

From the base of his chin, you drag your hand in a deep scratch across his neck, chest, and stomach, your eyes watching the pink lines blend in with his scarred skin. It’s a flashing pain, sharp like being scalded and it feels so good mixed with the blunt feel of being under your power.

“I’m gonna–” he says, and of course, you seem to already know. He cums with a deep grunt, rutting his hips into your fist before he thrusts his head forward to kiss you again.

As soon as he comes down, he pulls away only slightly, just so he can say what he’s been wanting to say since he met you.

“Thank–”

You cut him off with another kiss, because sometimes, he really does need to shut up. 

[deadsetobsessions]

“Tim. Timmy. Ancients, kid, what are you doing?!”

Danny Phantom smacked away the instinctual terror of seeing an eight year old dangling out of a third story window.

“I gotta go take pictures of Batman and Robin! They’re out tonight!”

Danny thought that his barely healed vivisection wound might bust open from the sheer stress.

“Setting aside how you even know the patrol schedule of honest to god vigilantes, why’d you choose the window? The house is literally empty, just walk out the front door, for Ancient’s sake.”

Tim paused, a motion Danny was overwhelmingly thankful for, and blinked sheepishly.

“Um… for the aesthetic?”

Danny allowed the silence to settle between them before dropping his head into his waiting hands. Tim panicked.

“You- you can’t stop me!”

And yeah, Danny really can’t. In the months he’s been mooching off of the Drakes (not that they’ll notice), Danny’s learned that Tim Drake is nothing but relentless in the pursuit of whatever he sets his mind on. Whether thet might be putting hot chocolate in his cereal (which Danny doesn’t actually mind) or, apparently, stalking a pair of vigilantes.

He wanted to hack into the library cameras? Danny had to hover just to make sure the kid didn’t get caught after arguing for an hour about it.

He walked out of that argument with a loss, yes, but he also let Tim know that Danny cared about him. Danny also walked out of that argument with a new hatred for Janet and Jack Drake and his mind (just as diabolical as Tim’s) whirring with plans to haunt them.

Tim is never ever introducing his new little brother to Tucker. Ever.

“Okay. I don’t want to see you take unnecessary risks, but I’m also aware that I can’t really stop you. So. I’ll go with you.”

Maybe this is like… Tim’s obsession? When he put it that way, Danny lost the fight to prevent this tiny kid from what clearly is the only joy in his poor life.

“But…!” Tim’s eyes darted to Danny’s chest, the vivisection scars still fresh in his mind.

“They’re healed.” Danny pulled his dumbass little brother off the window sill, core settling as Tim follows willingly. “I’ll make us invisible and fly with you behind Batman and Robin so you can get even better shots. You can’t make any noise, though. That camera got a shutter sound, right?”

“Yeah!” Tim’s face brightened and Danny melted. He shoved a bottle of the (incredibly stinky but helpful in a pinch) ecto contaminated tap water into a backpack, along with some snacks and a blanket for when Tim gets cold. Danny’ll be fine, he’s got a Space Core. The cold his kind of his thing.

“Cool. We’ll stay out of earshot. If things starts to get too dicey, we’re heading home, okay?”

“Okay!” The look Tim shot him is full of trust and adoration and it makes Danny’s human heart squeeze painfully. “C’mon! I don’t want to be late!”

“We need to talk about your stalking tendencies later,” Danny said fondly.

“I’m not stalking them! I’m observing them!”

“Uh-huh,” Danny drawled, picking Tim up and making them intangible and invisible. “They’re not a bird observatory and also, even the birds in the observatory knows they’re being watched. Batman and Robin clearly doesn’t.”

Danny felt more than saw Tim’s pout.

He laughs as they fly just below the Gotham-brand of toxic smog. He waves to the City’s Spirit as Tim cranes his head around to catch sight of Batman and Robin.

“There!”

Danny obliged. With Danny’s flight, Tim got much better- much closer- photos than he would have originally.

Danny hung back as the pair of vigilantes swooped down to take care of a mugging.

“Wanna mess with them?” He grinned down at his little brother, canines glinting.

Tim looked up at him, admiration and mischievousness in his gaze. “Yes.”

Gotham parted her clouds in response to their glee.

——

Dick Grayson, AKA Robin, finally understood why criminals are so creeped out by him.

Other than the whole flippy child kicking grown people’s asses and winning thing, obviously (that, and Batman loomed menacingly behind him everytime a criminal even looked at Robin wrong).

Batman had picked up on it first, but the for entirety of their patrol, they kept hearing eerie little giggles and laughter. Haunting them. Never distracting. But persistent. And so creepy. He got goosebumps.

“B, I wanna go home.”

“Hm.” That’s a resounding yes if Dick’s ever heard one.

Maybe Alfred can chase away the giggles and chuckles.

Robin shudders and follows the Bat home.

——

Danny lowered the temperature as he held Tim up near Batman’s cowl so his brother could giggle menacingly. He knew for a fact that any recording device would get completely cram led by the sheer output of ambient ectoplasm he’s emitting. Plus, it freaked Robin out and raised the hairs on the back of the vigilantes’ heads. He tones it down when he noticed Tim rubbing his hands together.

He let out a quiet laugh, enjoying the flight with his brother in his arm and the light of the stars (thanks, Gotham) at his back.

——

Danny: oh, this kid’s got an Obsession, gotta let him do it safely, he’s a liminal from all that tap water

Danny: *forgets Tim isn’t a ghost nor is he from Amity and is therefore extremely breakable*

——

Danny and Tim: doing crime is a good bonding activity

Batman and Robin, who wants to say no it isn’t but they’re literally a pair of illegal vigilantes:

——

Dick as Robin: *cackles*

Tim, learning habits from stalking them: *giggles*

Gotham Criminals: *fear*

[c0ffeejelly1]

When you don’t say I love you back.

Multiple characters headcannon

Authors note: this is not spelling checked, grammar checked, punctuation checked so don’t come at me. I’m lazy.

Warnings: NSFW Content (kinda)

“Shit..babe!” He boomed to you across from the empty kitchen cabinet, before closing it to quickly put on some slides.

“I’ve gotta head out to the shop down the road for a quick minute, we’re outta snacks to eat with the movie.”

“Oh okay, see you later then, and don’t worry I won’t start the film without you..”

“You better not. Anyways bye, I love you.”

“Yeah.”

The type to walk back in and question it

He didn’t notice that you didn’t reply to him until he had closed the door behind him. That’s when it came to him.

Immediately after the door shut, he ripped it wide open again a confused and offended look on his face, as he stared down at you on the couch. “Babe.”

You turned to face him, an innocent expression painting your features. “Yeah? You forget something?”

“I think you’re the one forgetting something..” You glance around faking a puzzled look before returning your gaze to him,

“No...I don’t think I did. What are you talking about?” He was now crossing his arms at you, a disappointed look on his face.

“Y/N.” Yikes, he’s going first name bases with you; he was not playing around. It was a little funny to watch him react like this though, because you could see the small pout on his face despite the scowl he was presenting to you.

“Yes handsome?” You say mockingly wanting to see how far you could take this.

“Why didn’t you say it back?”

“Say what back?”

“y’know what I’m talking about.“

“Do I?”

“…”

You better kiss him now that you’ve made him sad.

Characters: MIDORIMA, kagami, giyuu, jean, kageyama, TSUKISHIMA, osamu, Ushijima, NANAMI, geto, LUCIFER, diavolo, todoroki, Iida. (Anyone you like)

The type to not process it until AFTER they’ve bought the snacks

It was while he was tapping his card to the register that he himself also registered-

“Wait a damn minute.”

He’s rushing his ass back home, the distant yell that he dropped his snacks, left unheard from the poor cashier.

When he arrives home though..

“So..” he starts, falling back onto the couch with you. “You know you're the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever met right?” He tries buttering you up a bit in hopes it’ll get you in a ‘good mood’.

“You’re just so SO beautiful, that every time I look at you there are only hearts in my eyes..y’know that right? Right baby?..” you only nod your head trying to stop the smile forming on your face.

“I just.. love you so much y’know?”

“Thank you.”

“Baby, I love you.”

“Yeah, I heard.”

“I. Love. You.”

“Why do you keep repeating that?”

“You’re gonna make me cry.”

You say it back to him once he starts tickling the hell outta you.

Characters: dimple, REIGEN, KISE, rengoku, connie, armin, NISHINOYA, HINATA, OIKAWA, choso, gojo, MAMMON, DENKI. (Anyone you like)

The type to give you a dirty look and repeat it again LOUDER.

“..bitch.”

“Are you not gonna say it back?” Is what he would say to you, but instead he only resorted to giving you a not so…pretty look.

You knew damn well what you were doing. He’s no fool to you and your pranks, but that still didn’t explain the reason why he continued trying to make you say it back.

“Let’s try this again.”

“…” You give him a neutral look, a small smile dying to crack onto your lips.

“Bye, I LOVE you.” He tried emphasising the love part making sure you would get the hint of what he was waiting on.

“Mhm..yeah, now go buy the snacks I’m hungry.” Are you trying to get yourself killed? This is not the type of guy you should be fooling around with this kinda stuff.

“I’m not going anymore” he walks away from the door before striding over to you.

“What? Why? H-hey! What are you doin-” he grips onto your waist before hosting you onto his shoulder.

“Gotta find out why my girls being so stubborn, so what better way than..”

That’s how you ended up here, hands tied behind your back, and a blindfold on, all your senses focused on only him and the distant sound of the TV.

Every time he would say he loved you, If you didn’t reply back to him fast enough the restraints would stay on for an extra minute while he went ahead and watched the movie without you.

“I love you.” Jesus, you could practically feel the devious smirk he had on his face.

“I. Love. You. Too.” You reply with a small hiss through clenched teeth. He only chuckled at your tone giving you a slight pat on your head. “Bet you won’t try this again huh?”

He’s sleeping on the couch.

Characters: AOMINE, SANEMI, eren, UKAI, IWAIZUMI, tendou, ATSUMU, toji, satan, solomon, bakugou. (Anyone you like)

The type to immediately start apologising for no reason

“I’m sorry baby, I’ll never do it again.”

He doesn’t even open the door before he’s on his knees looking up at you for some hint that you weren’t angry at him. “Please say something..”

The reason you obviously couldn’t say anything at that moment was because you just didn’t expect him to go down on his knees and beg for forgiveness for who knows what-

“Look I know this must be about eating the takeout and only leaving the empty bowl behind to make it look as though I didn’t- and this obviously must also be about me stealing your shirt and accidentally using it as a washcloth- or maybe it’s the underwe-”

“OKAY!” You yell putting both your hands in front of his face rendering him confused, “I-I get it! Okay..”

he only cocks his head to the side moments before his face drops when you tell him it was a prank.

“Oh..it is?..”

“Yeah…”

“So you still love me?”

“Very much.”

…

“..wait- what did you do with my underwear?”

He’s gone silent.

He’s getting up.

He’s walking away.

He’s running now.

“Wha- Hey! Come back here!”

“Gotta buy the snacks now, bye!”

This man is NOT as innocent as he looks.

Characters: serizawa, tengen, REINER, kuroo, BOKUTO, LEVIATHAN, Asmodeus. (Anyone you like)

[sugugasm]

“NERDS DO IT BETTER.” | satoru gojo

⟡ tags : nerd! satoru + popular! yn, gojo loses his virginity at the hot cheerleader’s house party - content includes : reader uses she/her pronouns, fem! reader, riding, fingering, inexperienced! gojo, pet names, etc. also shout out 2 my fav @ramonathinks m’ so proud of this piece bae i hope you luv it jus as much as i do !!! MDNI 19+ 3.7K WC

satoru adjusted his glasses nervously as he and geto approached the sprawling mansion, music and laughter spilling out into the warm night air. “i don’t know about this, man,” he muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets. “parties aren’t really my scene.”

geto rolled his eyes. “come on, live a little! when was the last time you got out and socialized? besides, you-know-who will be here . .” he elbowed gojo with a knowing grin.

gojo flushed, ducking his head. “like [★] would even look twice at me. she’s so far out of my league it’s not even funny.”

“well yeah, not with that attitude!” geto chided. “you’re a catch, gojo. smart, funny, stupid handsome. any girl would be lucky to have you. just talk to her, be your charming self. what’s the worst that could happen?”

“she could laugh in my face?” gojo suggested glumly. “or have her quarterback boyfriend beat me up?”

geto sighed in exasperation, slinging an arm around his best friend's shoulders. “you’ll never know if you don’t try. [★] is single and i’ve seen her checking you out in class when she thinks no one’s looking. trust me, you’ve got a shot. don’t waste it being a pussy.”

gojo took a fortifying breath as they crossed the threshold into the packed house. “okay. i’ll talk to her. but if i crash and burn, you owe me a whole tub of ice cream and a weekend of binge gaming, no complaints.”

“deal,” geto agreed easily, scanning the crowd. “now let’s get you a drink and go find your dream girl.”

and within only an hour and several red solo cups later, gojo could be found sandwiched between two jocks on a couch, only half-listening to their drunken debate about the upcoming game. his eyes kept flicking to where you held court across the room, radiant in a barely-there crop top and mini-skirt as you laughed with your girls. you were a vision, beautiful hair and glowing skin and dangly earrings catching the light. ethereal, untouchable.

what would a goddess like you possibly want with a loser like him?

and as if on cue, your gaze met his and your glossy lips curved in a small secret smile, eyes sparkling with mischief. his breathing hitched and he looked away quickly, face heating. okay, maybe geto had a point about you noticing him . . .

“who wants to play seven minutes in heaven?” your bubbly friend tiffany trilled over the music, brandishing an empty vodka bottle. “let’s make things interesting!”

wolf-whistles and drunken cheers met her suggestion as people began arranging themselves in a loose circle. gojo watched you toss your hair over your shoulder as you joined, a strange fluttering in his stomach. he jumped when geto clapped him on the shoulder.

“dude, this is perfect!” geto crowed. “the ideal low-pressure way to get some one-on-one time with [★]. let's get you in that circle.” he started pulling a sputtering gojo up off the couch.

“wha-geto, no way!” gojo protested, but it was too late. geto had already shoved him into the circle, right across from you. you quirked an eyebrow at him and his stomach somersaulted. was that a pleased gleam in your eyes?

the bottle made a few uneventful rounds - geto got seven giggly minutes with the head of the drama club, a blushing band student got dragged off by her fellow tuba player, and then . . tiffany passed the bottle to you with a significant look. gojo’s heart started smacking against his chest as you placed it in the center and gave it a deft spin, slender wrist twisting gracefully.

he watched with bated breath as the bottle rotated, transfixed. it seemed to spin for an eternity before finally slowing . . and stopping. neck pointed directly at gojo. blood roared in his ears as hoots and hollers erupted around the circle. you were looking right at him, a small smile playing about your glossy lips. “guess s’ jus’ you n’ me, cutie,” you said with a wink, getting elegantly to your feet.

in a daze, gojo stumbled upright, barely registering the good-natured ribbing and back slaps from the other players. you held out a hand to him and he took it automatically, skin tingling where it met yours. your fingers laced intimately through his as you tugged him away from the group . . . and toward the stairs?

“um, [★]?” gojo asked, voice cracking humiliatingly. “isn’t the closet that way?”

you threw a smile over your shoulder and his knees nearly buckled. “i got a better spot in mind. somethin’ more . . private.”

by the time his sluggish brain processed the implications of that, you were leading him into a bedroom. your bedroom, if the riot of pink and stuffed animals everywhere was any indication. you flicked on a lamp, bathing the space in soft flattering light.

gojo stood awkwardly by the door, heart doing double-time as he drank in the adorable organized chaos. various raye, boygenius, and sanrio posters on the walls, rainbow lego sets on the shelves. it was delightfully telling and somewhat . . surprising, so at odds with your smokeshow attitude and queen bee reputation. he was utterly charmed.

“sorry about the mess,” you said, sounding uncharacteristically shy as you perched on the edge of the lacy bedspread. “i know it’s a lot.”

“no, i love it!” gojo blurted, then winced. real smooth. “i mean, it’s really cute. suits you.”

“yeah?” you asked, sounding pleased. you patted the space beside you in clear invitation. “i don’t bite . . unless i’m asked nicely. c’mon, come sit with me, gojo.”

on slightly unsteady legs, he crossed the plush rug to sink down next to you, hyperaware of the warmth of your bare thigh against his denim-clad one. “so, um, i don’t really know how this is supposed to go,” he admitted, rubbing his neck. “i’m not exactly a seven minutes in heaven expert.”

“well, we’ve got some time to figure it out together,” you said, angling your body toward his. “maybe we could start with just talking? get to know each other a little?”

so that’s what you did. you started off with the typical small talk - classes, hobbies, favorite bands. but the conversation quickly deepened and expanded. you found yourself opening up to him, confessing your secret dreams and fears, things you rarely shared with anyone. in turn, he revealed his geeky passions, his insecurities, his hopes for the future.

the more you learned about the sweet, clever, quietly funny boy beneath the nerdy exterior, the more your heart softened and warmed. he was so genuine, so different from the jocks and rich boys you usually ran with. being with him felt comfortable, natural, intoxicating.

at some point, you’d shifted closer to him on the bed, your folded legs overlapping his, shoulders brushing. as you giggled your way through an anecdote, you rested a hand on his strong thigh without thinking. he tensed slightly and you felt a little thrill, a flicker of heat. you squeezed gently, fingertips pressing into firm muscle.

“m’ probably boring you,” you said with a wry smile, glancing at him through your lashes. “jus’ rambling on about myself. we could do something else, if you want. maybe, y’know, uphold the seven minutes tradition . .”

he inhaled sharply and you thrilled at the effect you were clearly having on him. “you mean . . you want to kiss me?”

“i mean, i definitely wouldn’t object,” you murmured coyly. “i like you a lot, satoru. in case it isn’t already obvious.”

his blue eyes darkened behind his glasses. “i really like you too, [★],” he said, voice low and rough. “an embarrassing amount.”

“yeah?” you breathed. “so are you going to kiss me, or . . do i have to beg?”

his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “well, um. i-i’ve never really done anything like that before,” he admitted with an awkward chuckle. “i don’t even know how i’ve gotten this far.”

“that’s okay,” you assured him, placing a hand on his knee and feeling him tense slightly under your touch. “we can take it slow, figure it out together. m’ not exactly an expert either.”

he nodded, looking relieved and grateful for your understanding. emboldened, you leaned in, giving him time to pull away. spoiler alert, he didn’t. his eyes just fluttered closed as you brushed your lips softly over his. they were warm and smooth, molding sweetly to your own. after a moment of stillness, he started to move his mouth tentatively against yours.

you let him set the pace, parting your lips in silent invitation. his tongue shyly traced the seam of your mouth and you opened for him on a sigh. he licked inside carefully, exploring you with gentle curiosity that made warmth bloom through your veins. you stroked your tongue along his, encouraging, and felt him shudder against you.

slowly, you sank back into your mountain of pillows, pulling him down with you. he settled over you carefully, a pleasant weight, strong and solid in all the right places. your fingers tangled in his dark hair as the kisses deepened, wetter, hotter. his own hands skimmed down your sides to settle on your hips, squeezing gently as he rocked subtly against you.

when you finally broke apart, you were both flushed and breathing unsteadily. “is this okay?” you checked, reaching up to stroke his cheek. “we can stop anytime if you’re uncomfortable.”

he shook his head immediately, eyes dark and intense behind his slightly fogged glasses. “no, i don’t wanna’ stop. i want you so bad, [★]. i’m just nervous i’ll do something wrong.”

your heart melted. “you won’t, satoru,” you promised. “we’ll go slow, i’ll show you. s’ all a process, ‘kay? jus’ do what feels good.”

he nodded, some of the tension easing from his frame. you pulled him back down for another kiss, lush and lingering. as your mouths moved together, you fumbled for the hem of his shirt, rucking it up his back. he broke away just long enough for you to pull it over his head and toss it aside before his lips found yours again.

your hands roamed his bared torso greedily, marveling at the lean muscle, the heat of his skin. gojo might look like a lanky nerd at first glance, but his body told a completely different story. you wanted to map every ridge and plane with your hands and mouth, discover all the secret places that would make him shake and gasp and moan. he shivered as your fingers skimmed over his ribs, his stomach, thumbs just brushing his nipples.

he made a hungry sound into your mouth when you lingered there, circling the tender buds questioningly. taking the hint, you tweaked them gently, rolling the sensitive flesh between your fingers. he jolted against you as if electrified, a moan vibrating in his chest.

“y’like that,” you guessed, doing it again and feeling his hips stutter forward helplessly into the cradle of your thighs.

“y-yeah,” he breathed, sounding almost surprised himself. “it feels really good.”

spurred on by his responsiveness, you devoted yourself to taking him apart, finding all the places that made him twitch and pant and whimper so sweetly. you kissed across his collarbones, scraped your teeth over his pulse point, soothed the sting with your tongue. you felt dizzy with him, drunk on the salt of his skin, his scent of clean and arousal, the incoherent sounds he made under your touch.

before long he was squirming restlessly against you, hard and insistent against your hip. “please,” he mumbled into your hair. “i need . .”

“what do you need?” you coaxed, nipping at his jaw. “tell me.”

he shuddered, hands flexing on your hips as he ground subtly against you. “i need — fuck, i need to touch you. need you to touch me. god, [★], i don’t know, i just . . please?”

“shhh, don’t stress, honey,” you soothed even as heat surged through you at his breathless plea. “let me take care of you.”

hooking a leg around his waist, you flipped your positions in one smooth motion, straddling his hips. he gazed up at you with something like awe, eyes wide and dark, lips kiss-swollen. your heart tripped over itself at the picture he made, wrecked and wanting in your rumpled sheets. quickly, before you could lose your nerve, you stripped off your own top and unhooked your bra, baring yourself to his heated stare. his hands came up immediately to cup your breasts, palming the soft weight greedily before catching your nipples between his fingers.

“aah!” you gasped, arching into the touch as sparks shot down your spine to throb between your legs. your hips rolled down against his, your clothed sexes grinding together deliciously. “y-yes, gojo, jus’ like that!”

emboldened by your encouragement, he explored your body just as thoroughly as you had his, broad hands and curious fingers finding all your most sensitive places. you were panting and mewling by the time he reached the button of your skirt with a questioning glance.

“please,” you whimpered, lifting your hips to help him shimmy the fabric down your legs. your panties quickly followed, leaving you bare to his burning gaze. and slowly, almost reverently, he reached out to touch — he couldn’t help it, fingertips skimming up your inner thighs. you shivered and parted them further in silent invitation. his eyes locked on yours as he carefully traced your slick folds, circling your aching entrance before moving up to swirl over your clit.

“show me how you like it?” he rasped, voice low and rough with arousal.

biting back a whimper, you covered his hand with your own, directing his movements. “like this,” you instructed breathlessly, guiding his fingers in tight circles over the sensitive bundle of nerves. “a little firmer, mmm . .”

he followed your lead perfectly, rubbing and stroking until your thighs were quaking and you were moaning brokenly. it felt good, so good, but you needed more. “inside,” you pleaded when coherent thought became difficult. “gojo, please, put one inside . .” he swore under his breath at your words but quickly obeyed, carefully sinking one long finger into your fluttering heat. you cried out sharply at the intimate penetration, hips canting down to take him deeper. he watched your face avidly as he started to pump in and out, curling and twisting gently as he went.

“m-more,” you gasped, head thrown back as he found a particularly sensitive spot. “another, toru, i can take it.”

he groaned like he was the one being pleasured as he pushed a second finger in alongside the first, stretching you so exquisitely. he scissored gently, working you open, before crooking them just right to rub firmly against your g-spot.

you collapsed forward onto his chest with a fractured moan, fingers scrabbling at his heaving shoulders as he massaged that magic button with devastating accuracy. you knew you could easily come just like this, spitted on his clever fingers, but it wasn't what you wanted. not for your first time together.

“gojo,” you panted, catching his wrist to still his movements. “i wan’ you inside . .”

his eyes widened with understanding and he swallowed audibly. “a-are you sure?” he asked hoarsely even as his hips twitched up against yours eagerly.

“i’ve never been more sure of anything,” you said fiercely, holding his gaze so he could read the sincerity there. “i wan’ you, all of you. please.”

he nodded jerkily. “i want you too,” he said, voice low and intent. "so much, you have no idea.”

then he was kissing you again, hot and urgent, his tongue delving deep as large hands palmed your ass, rocking you against his straining erection. you moaned into his mouth, already imagining how he would feel inside you, stretching and filling you so perfectly.

together, you managed to wrestle him out of his jeans and underwear, your focus narrowing to the breathtaking sight of him laid bare beneath you. all long limbs and lean muscle, skin flushed with arousal, cock thick and hard against his taut stomach. he was beautiful, exquisite, unreal.

“let me . . .” you murmured almost to yourself as you shifted down his body, wanting to taste, to tease. but he caught your shoulders, stopping you.

“next time,” he said with a slightly shy smile at odds with the high color in his cheeks, the stark arousal in his gaze. “i don’t think i’d last right now and i really, really want to be inside you when i cum. if-if that’s okay.”

oh, that was more than okay. it was basically the hottest thing you'd ever heard. “definitely okay,”you confirmed a little breathlessly, reaching for the condom you’d stashed optimistically in your nightstand.

with trembling hands, you opened the packet and rolled the latex down his rigid length. he twitched in your grip when you gave him a few strokes, thumb swirling through the bead of moisture at his tip. “fuck,” he choked out, head tipping back. “you gotta stop or i'll . .”

“i know, baby. i know,” you soothed, moving to straddle his hips once more. your eyes locked as you notched him at your entrance, his hands coming up to grip your hips almost hard enough to bruise. “ready?” at his jerky nod, you sank down slowly, taking him inch by careful inch. he stretched you exquisitely, walls fluttering to accommodate his girth. when your hips met his, you were both panting, pulses racing, skin flushed with pleasure-pain.

“god,” he choked out after a long moment, sounding absolutely wrecked. “you feel incredible. so fucking tight.”

you clenched around him experimentally, walls hugging him ever so sweetly, and he bucked up into you with a low groan. “gojo,” you gasped, nails digging into his chest. “you’re so deep, so big . .”

“am i hurting you?” he asked, brow creased with concern even as he visibly struggled to keep still.

“n-no,” you assured him. “no s’ perfect, you feel fucking perfect. jus’ . . go slow. lemme’ adjust.”

he did, rocking into you with shallow little thrusts that gradually deepened as you relaxed around him. soon you were moving together, finding a rhythm, the drag of him in and out sparking pleasure along every nerve ending. you leaned down to kiss him messily, all tongue and panted breaths as your hips rolled and ground in tandem.

“i’ve wanted this for so long,” he admitted between kisses, hands roaming restlessly over your back, your breasts, your ass. “wanted you. still can’t believe this is real.”

“s’ real,” you promised breathlessly, rising and falling faster on his cock as the tension coiled tighter in your core. “i’m real and i’m yours, gojo, all yours . .”

he made a rough sound, fingers digging into your hips as he started thrusting up harder, hitting that perfect spot inside you on every stroke. “mine,” he agreed, voice gravelly and low, sending shivers down your spine. “my [★], fuck, you’re absolutely perfect . .”

you could only moan in response, lost to the sensation of him moving inside you, hitting you so deep, stoking the fire in your belly to an inferno. your thighs burned, sweat blooming on your skin as you chased your peak, so close, almost . .

gojo was close too, you could tell by the telltale twitch and throb of him inside you, his thrusts going erratic. “m’ gonna’ cum,” he warned hoarsely, fingers scrabbling at your hips. “m’ gonna’ cum, m’ gonna’ cum . . i-i can’t h-hold —”

“yes - yes, yes, yes,” you gasped, grinding down hard, fingers flying over your clit. “cum in me satoru, wanna feel you, baby . .”

his hands grip your ass cheeks, spreading them apart before giving you two more sharp thrusts, leaving him cumming with a guttural moan of your name, pulsing hot inside you as you clenched and rippled around him. the feeling of him throbbing and spilling in you was enough to tip you over the edge, a cry tearing from your throat as you shattered around him, cumming so hard you saw white.

you collapsed onto his chest as aftershocks rolled through you, his hips still rocking shallowly into yours, drawing out your mutual pleasure. for a minute, you just panted together, sweat cooling on your skin, pulses calming. you felt him soften up and slip out of you and winced a little at the loss, a tender ache between your thighs. you’d have beard burn too, you just knew it. but it had been more than worth it.

satoru’s hands continued to stroke your back, your hair, as if he was reluctant to let go. you felt the same, luxuriating in his warmth, his scent, the sound of his heartbeat thumping steadily beneath your ear. you never wanted to move.

eventually though, he shifted beneath you and you lifted your head to find him gazing at you with soft, wondering eyes. “hey,” he said quietly, brushing your now-wild hair back from your face. “so, are we like, y’know . .”

“dating?” you finished, grinning so wide your cheeks hurt. “yes, but only if you want that.”

his answering smile was like the sun coming out. “y-yeah, yeah. i want that. i’ve always wanted that.” he leaned up to kiss you slow and deep, tongue delving languorously into your mouth. “thank you. for showing me. for everything.”

“right back at you,” you murmured against his lips, heart so full it felt like it might burst. “m’ glad i got the chance.”

“me too.” he nuzzled his nose against yours sweetly. “so . . whaddo’ you wanna’ do now?”

you pulled back slightly to search his face, seeing both hope and trepidation there. “well, i was thinking . . maybe we could cuddle for a lil’ while longer. then, i dunno’, raid the flooded kitchen for snacks. come back up here n’ skip the party . . we could watch a movie? kinda jus’ . . see where it goes.”

relief and happiness shone from his eyes. “i’d really like that. a lot.”

“good.” you pecked his lips once more before settling back onto his chest, ear pressed over his heart. “s’ a date then.” you knew you’d have to leave this little bubble eventually, face the real world and whatever challenges it might bring. but right now, you didn’t care about any of that. right now, you had gojo, warm and solid beneath you, his fingers laced gently through your hair as exhaustion started to pull you under. you had this perfect moment, and the promise of more to come.

as you drifted off, lulled by his heartbeat and even breathing, a small smirk played about your lips.

damn, guess the rumors were true.

nerds really did just do it better.

★ SUGUGASM 2024 | please don’t copy, translate or share my work on other platforms without my consent.

[weixuldo]

Baby Fever

Anakin x f!reader

This is based off of number 2 of this list :)- I havent really delved into kink writing s sorry if this isnt the best haha- think of the reader as a padme- type figure

After seeing you interact with a lost child- Anakin thinks it’s time you had your own baby to look after…

warnings: P in V, smex, ani has a mean breeding kink, multiple orgasms, mentiond of pregnancy

________________

Floods of invigorating politicians and citizens exited the large Coruscant city center after a successful senate meeting. You had just finished pitching a plan that would excel the economy while also protecting labor’s rights. 

You smiled as you stood from your podium once the majority of the crowds had exited- the whole public eye thing was a bit new to you. 

For the longest time you worked behind the scenes helping other politicians with similar goals; it wasn’t until a few months ago that you, yourself, were appointed as your district’s senator. 

You fixed your dress as you exited your booth and headed for the dimly lit corridors of the massive building. Most of the clamor had moved outside into the city square so the halls were mostly empty. 

As you turned the corner a small smile found its way onto your face once you saw a familiar figure leaning against a marble pillar. Unmistakable robes and lightsaber clipped to the man’s belt. 

“I wasn’t aware Jedi had any interest in politics” you said with a smirk as the man snaked a gloved arm around you before you could pass. 

He pressed his face into your hair as he hugged you tighter to his chest, “We don’t, but you know all of my interest belongs to you”. 

You sighed as he pressed a passionate kiss to the column of your neck. 

“Ani- not here” you almost whimpered. 

He quickly twirled you around to face him before holding your face in his hands, “why not?” he asked with a charming smirk- “we should let them all know”. 

He glanced out the large windows down at the crowds of excited civilians- from up here they looked no larger than ants running for a sugar jar. 

“They all love you, so why can’t I?” Anakin asked with a pout. 

You sweetly smiled before placing a tender kiss to his pretty lips, “you can, and you do- you know the ramifications Anakin, you know we ca-“. 

Anakin cut you off with another deep kiss before releasing you and playfully slapping your ass. 

“Yeah yeah, I know” he huffed, “but they don’t know that”. 

You rolled your eyes at your lover’s childish desires before leading him out of the building. 

To avoid the spotlight and attention of the crowds, you dawned a hooded cloak before exiting the center.

Anakin followed closely behind; a hand already on his saber just in case. Thankfully being in public with Anakin seemed normal to some degree because you had become such a public figure- Jedi were often tasked with protecting political officials.

So Anakin looked no different than a routine bodyguard. 

The crowds were easier to navigate now that you had some practice under your belt. You had almost made it to your reserved speeder when you felt a small tug on the hem of your long dress. 

You smiled once you realized the tugging was coming from a small child, probably no older than four. 

She looked up at you with wonder as she mustered up the courage to speak to you. 

“Senator?” She finally asked. 

You nodded with a smile before turning to her. A wide grin settled onto her small face as she looked you up and down. 

“Pretty” she giggled. 

Anakin stood a few feet behind you, trying to see what was going on over the people standing in the way- he became anxious when you dipped from view.

The Jedi quickly weaved through the remaining people to see you crouched down speaking to a small child. His expression immediately softened as he watched you interact so sweetly with the girl; making exaggerated faces at the child’s comments, pointing out her cute accessories to make her giggle, picking her up to shield her from oncoming pedestrians-

Anakin never really thought about having kids- of course he wanted them someday; he wanted to create life with you and wanted to raise his children with a childhood he never got to have. But it never seemed like the right time.

The two of you had been careful when engaging in those activities to avoid an unexpected surprise when you still hadn’t quite figured out how to navigate your secret relationship. 

But each time Anakin fucked you he got closer and closer to giving up on the unspoken rule; he got closer and closer to cumming deep inside of you without any intention of pulling out. 

You knew Anakin was a passionate lover but you never considered that your sweet, respectful Jedi lover fantasized about locking you into a mating press while he fucked his children into your fertile womb. 

Anakin had no timeline of when he wanted them, but he knew you’d make a great mother no matter how long (or short) he waited.

Though seeing you interact in real time just made him want the fantasy to spring to reality. 

_________

“Hello sweetie, where are your parents?” You cooed at the small girl in your arms. 

She giggled and shrugged, making you frown. 

“Well that’s not good, they’re probably worried about you” you said, scanning the crowd for anyone who held any semblance to the tiny child in your arms. 

She, on the other hand, had no interest in finding her guardians- instead she was focused on the shiny tinsel that had been put into your hair prior to your speech. Innocently, she flipped your hood off and began to touch your face as she admired your beauty in childlike wonder. 

Before you could react, Anakin was by your side; he gently placed the cloak back over your head to protect you from interested onlookers. 

“Ani! You came out of nowhere” you giggled lightheartedly as he guided you off to the side of the still buzzing city square. 

“Who’s this?” He asked with a smile as the little girl in your arms hid her face in your shoulder. 

“It’s ok baby, he’s a Jedi- he’s very strong and he’s here to protect us” you whispered to the little girl in your arms. 

“Jedi?” her green eyes brightened as she became excited at the title. 

She continued asking you questions but all Anakin could focus on was how beautiful you looked interacting with such a young child. How natural you looked. 

Is this how you would interact with your own children? With his children?

He couldn't help but adjust his pants as he felt them becoming increasingly tighter. 

Soon the overexcited child had fallen asleep in your comforting arms; shortly, you began cautiously walking around in hopes to find her parents. The jedi beside you watched as you subconsciously brushed the girl's hair and gently bounced her on your hip. 

Before long you finally stumbled across two very worried adults calling for who you could only assume was fast asleep in your arms. 

“Oh Maker! There she is!” the woman gasped as she reached for her baby. 

The Man she was with breathed out a sigh of relief and quickly joined her as you handed her the sleeping child. 

“Thank you so mu- Senator!” the man’s eyes widened once he realized who it was. 

“We are so sorry to have troubled you- please forgive us for our carelessness” the woman bowed. 

“No, no! It was no trouble at all- you have a beautiful daughter” you smiled, brushing a stray strand of hair away from the girl’s face. 

“Thank you, thank you so much. We loved your speech- you are just what this city needs” the mother offered before turning to her husband. 

You bowed and met the silent figure watching from the sidelines; “Sorry Ani, we can go now”. 

Anakin just nodded silently and trailed you with an uncharacteristically dazed aura. 

Once you were in your speeder, Anakin hopped in the driver’s seat and jetted off towards your apartment; his strong jaw clenched as he imagined you full with a child.

He flinched as you placed a tender hand on his tensed thigh, “Ani- are you alright?”.

________________________

A cacophony of moans and groans ricocheted off of the walls of your penthouse bedroom as your lover continuously plunged his cock in and out of your abused hole. He had been at it for two hours already and had already cum once (while you came thrice). 

Once you entered your private apartment, all of his carefully crafted will-power snapped and he went feral; the natural urge to breed you, hit him like a bus.

He was all over you; your lips, neck, breasts, cunt- you were his and he was going to make damn sure it stayed that way. 

“A-Ani! S-slow down!” you cried as he jetted his thick cock in and out of you. 

“S-Sorry baby, C-can’t- I gotta- gotta fill you up” he winced as he fucked you through his own overstimulation. 

His heavy balls slapped against your ass and a ring of foam from your combined juices formed at the base of his cock. 

He already came inside of you once, what more could he want?

“Baby- t’s too much! You're-spilling all over”.

“N-no, not enough- gotta fuck a baby into you” he grunted against your bruised neck. 

His confession had your eyes snapping open, “What?!”. 

“Looked too damn good with that baby on your hip- I-I wanna see you with my child on your hip in-instead” he babbled as he pulled you flush against his chest and rutted his desperate hips into yours. 

So that's what this was all about. 

Admittedly you didn’t mind his desires, deep down you wanted the same thing… you wanted him to reach so deep that he fucked one into you on the spot. 

“Oh Fuck Ani- I wan- I want your kids” you admitted ad you raked your long nails down his toned back. 

“Shit babe- squeezing me so tight” he whined as he gripped onto your hips with a caging grasp (surely you would be bruised tomorrow). 

He slammed his hips flush against yours with intense force as he felt the coil in his stomach begin to snap- this was it, this was the orgasm that was going to give you a child. 

He just knew it. 

“Ahh c-cumming! Gonna give y-you a child- Shit! i-i ‘m going to fuck my baby into you” he babbled as he felt his hot, thick, warm seed shoot out of his oversensitive tip into your gushing cunt as your own orgasm washed over your like a crest-fallen wave. 

“Ani!” you cried as your legs began to shake from the overpowering climax mixed with your exhaustion. 

You clawed onto him so hard that you swore you drew blood. Anakin, on the other hand, dove down and captured you into a tight embrace; his mechanical hand making you gasp at the sudden coolness. 

His body shook with pleasure and overstimulation as he struggled to rut his hips into you to push the last bit of spend further into you with shaky breaths. 

Once you came down from your high, you were so tired that you couldn’t even bother to ask Anakin to clean you up; you half expected him to fall asleep inside of you based on how tired he also looked. 

“Gonna make you a mommy- you’ll look s-so good- so round with our child” Anakin mumbled into your neck before slowly turning over so that you were on top of him (his dick still inside). 

You hummed in contempt before drifting to sleep as he gently brushed your hair with hsi flesh hand. 

“The two of you should get some sleep now- I love you” Anakin whispered before drifting right after you. 

You would have giggled at Anakin’s addition of “two” when speaking to you and your hypothetical baby, but as usual your lover was right. 

The famed “Jedi perception” was affirmed 9 months later when you cradled not one, but two small bundles of joy. You sat on your couch as you fed your children and Anakin couldn't help but smirk at the scene before him, this is just what he wanted… he couldn’t wait till you could have another one. 

***

(a/n: ngl im not crazy big on kids but breeding is hot 🤭🤭 hope this lived up to the idea on the list :0)

[thirdsaltyhunter]

If I Catch You

Summary: Dean chasing you through the halls of the bunker in a ghostface mask, what more do you need

Warning: SMUT, if I catch you I f*ck you trope, mask k*nk, choking, praise, edging, manhandling

A/N: did I forget to post this yesterday cause I was to busy partying... yes but hopefully you'll enjoy this enough to forgive me

You had always loved Halloween even despite being a hunter. It brought back the happy memories from your childhood, when there were no worries, the monsters were only people in masks and the good guys always won at the end of every scary movie. Dean shared your appreciation for the holiday. Even before you and him started dating, you would often spend Halloween nights curled up on motel beds, watching horror marathons with all the snacks and sugar you could handle. Sam on the other hand didn't see the appeal. Sometimes he would join you in your movie watching, but it was mostly to appease you and avoid ridicule from Dean.

This year you and your boyfriend had the bunker all to yourself. Sam had chosen to spend the night with Eileen and leave the two of you to your festivities.

The empty bunker allowed the perfect opportunity for you and Dean to play out a fantasy that you had talked about a few nights before, when you were cuddled up bingeing the Scream franchise.

"Ghostface is hot," you blurted randomly in the middle of the movie. You mostly said this to see his reaction, but there was a hint of truth to your statement.

"Why?" he said in utter confusion. He paused the movie and looked down at you in his arms.

You shrugged. "I don't know masked men are just hot."

"Masked men?" he tried to hide the hint of amusement.

"Oh yeah, it's a real popular thing now. I can show you all the thirst trap videos."

"Yeah I don't need to see that."

You laughed at his look of disgust before he continued.

"So what your saying is that I need to get a Ghostface mask, hm?" he said with a smirk.

"I mean I wouldn't mind, have you chase me through the halls in it." You tilted your head back to face him, your lips almost touching.

"What happens when I catch you?", he asked with a devious smile, his hold on you tightening slightly.

"You'll have to find out," you responded, your voice sultry and teasing.

"I think that can be arranged."

One costume store purchase later and you found yourself in only a set of sexy underwear, standing in the empty hallway. The concrete floor was cool under your bare feet, but your racing pulse kept you from being cold.

Dean had given you a head start before he would try to come and find you. Your excitement was growing. He wasn't going to chase you, if it came down to a sprint race, Dean would win every time. No, he was going to hunt you. You knew this made the game more even, but you also knew that he was crafty and smart. Though in all honesty you wanted to be caught, you were just going to be a little tease before you let him find you.

You had just rounded the corner by the kitchen, when the power went out, causing the bunker's red emergency lights to come on.

Nice touch, you thought.

You heard his voice echo through the hall, signaling that he was coming to find you. Your adrenaline was pumping. Not out of fear, you knew Dean would never hurt you, but out of anticipation for what would happen when he found you.

You slipped into kitchen looking for a spot to hide. Unsatisfied with the spots, you head to the library. You hid in the far corner behind one of the shelves and waited. You listened for his footsteps but heard nothing, years of hunting had trained him to be light on his feet. When you finally heard his voice call your name he was much closer than you expected. He purposefully stepped heavy coming up the stairs from the War Room, his boots thudding against the stone.

You took the opportunity to dart out the door in the back of the library. The bookcase blocked you from his view, but he definitely heard the door shut. You bolted down the back hall, heart pounding as you rounded the corner just as the door opened behind you.

Quietly you slipped into one of the bedrooms and hid under the bed. You listened until his footsteps passed the door and went down the hall. Crawling out from your hiding spot, you checked to make sure the hall was empty before sprinting the opposite direction.

As you ran past the next hall you saw him rounding the other end. You picked up the pace, knowing he had seen you. You turned the next corner and stopped, pressing your back against the cool tile wall to catch your breath. When you decided the coast was clear you went to move to the next hall, when an arm wrapped around your middle, you back pinned to his chest.

You tried to wriggle from his grasp just making it free when you stumbled. You caught yourself, but his hand caught your ankle dragging you across the polished concrete floor and pulling you under him.

He rolled you over and you came face to face with the black eyes and long mouth of the mask, illuminated by the red glow of the lights. This was the first time you had actually seen him in the mask and it was even hotter than you imagined. When he pinned your hands above your head you knew you weren't getting away.

"Gotcha," he growled.

"What are you going to do with me now?" you said through panting breaths, partially from running, partially from how incredibly turned on you were right now.

"You'll have to find out," he responded before using one hand to pull his belt from his jean and loop it around your wrists.

Ok that was hot.

When your hands were secured, he stood up scooping you up off the floor and tossing you over his shoulder, delivering a quick smack to your ass before walking toward your shared bedroom. It wasn't often that he manhandled you like this and you were loving every second of it.

When you got to the bedroom, he tossed you onto the bed and straddled your legs. He hooked two fingers into the belt around your wrists.

"You want this to stay on?" he asked.

You nodded eagerly. Even being dominant and aggressive, he never wanted to push you limits, solely focused on giving you what you wanted.

"Stay," he ordered, getting up from the bed to strip down to his boxers, leaving the mask in place.

You watched him with lust blown eyes, your chest still rising and falling rapidly as you admired his body. He moved to the end of the bed, grabbing your ankle and pulling you to the end. Your underwear was pulled down your legs and tossed over his shoulder. He wrapped you legs around his hips and you could feel his clothed erection. You moaned grinding down on him until his arm crossed you hips, holding you still.

He ran two finger through your slick. '"So wet for me. Is this just from me chasing you?"

You nodded again.

He lowered to his knee, his masked face coming level with your dripping cunt. Two of his fingers dipped into you, immediately curling into the spot that made your back arch and your knees weak. Your head fell back letting the pleasure wash over you.

From the box under the bed, he pulled out your vibrator. He planned to torture you tonight.

"Don't cum until I'm inside you. Do you understand me?" he said turning the toy to the lowest setting and pressing it to your clit.

"Yes," you moaned, hands gripping the sheet above your head. You didn't know how long you were going to last. You were already on the edge of release and he had hardly touched you yet.

As you got close he removed the vibrator, running his hand up your thighs and squeezing your hips to sooth you. You whined and looked at him between you legs. You tried to give him your best puppy eyes, but you couldn't see his expression. You only were met with the blank stare of the mask and the vibrations returning to your sensitive cunt.

He continued teasing you, edging you another four or five times. You hated it and loved it at the same time. It amazed you how he knew exactly where to keep you on edge, or at least it would amaze you, if there was a single part of your brain that could think straight.

"Dean," you whined again, desperate for release.

"Beg for it," he responded sternly, fingers dipping inside you again.

"Please, fuck me." You squirmed, you didn't know if you wanted to get away from he sensation or fuck yourself on his fingers.

He sped up his motions and leaned over you body until he was face to face with you. You could just barely see his eyes, but you knew he was watching you fall into ecstasy.

"Please," you begged.

He removed his fingers and dropped his boxers. His cock was thick and dripping precum, edging you had teased him almost equally as much. He pulled your hips even closer to the edge of the bed and hooked your shaking legs over his shoulders. His hands gripped your hips firmly as he slid into you, filling you completely.

He watched your face as your head fell back in pleasure, a loud moan escaping your lips.

"That's my girl," he praised, running his hands up and down your sides, desperately trying to keep himself together.

He started thrusting into you, slow, but so deep you could hardly take it.

"Look at me," he said, his hand came up to circle around your throat to put your attention back on him.

Your eyes opened to watch as he fucked you. You could see a blush of exertion creeping down his neck from under the mask. He gently added pressure to the sides of your throat as the speed of his hips increased.

Your hands reached for him as you got closer to falling apart. Noticing how close you were, he started to circle your clit with his thumb. You came with cry of his name, your hand gripping his forearm, his hand loosening from your throat, causing you to feel almost high.

He planted his hand beside your head as his hips stuttered and he came with a deep moan. You both stilled for a few minutes, panting and trying to regain your bearings.

After a moment, he gently pulled out to go get a towel to clean up your combined mess. You squirmed from the sensitivity as he wiped you down. He whispered an apology before tossing the rag and undoing the belt from your wrists.

Finally removing the mask, he ran a hand down his face and smiled down at you. It was funny to see him have that boyish grin after playing the sexy, dangerous slasher for the past hour. He lifted you up to place you at the top of the bed against the pillows.

"That was awesome," he said, laying down beside you and wrapping you in his arms.

"Yeah it was, I fucking love you." You laughed and buried your head in his neck.

"I love you too sweetheart, and I love that I can do things like this with you."

You nodded in agreement before you started to feel how worn out you were.

Both of you were exhausted from your activities and quickly fell asleep, deciding to take a nap before settling down for a night of Halloween movies and junk food.