#you know what they say about men with big hands…

[luvyeni]

( drabble ) ̨ give me a chance ! ୨୧ 一 황현진 ՞

⸃ ⸰ ⌁ hyunjin is tired of you not giving him a chance  ヾ

bestfriend!hyunjin・ reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ g ・ smut ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ cw ・ mean dom hyune, unprotected sex, degradation ‎ wc ・ ‎0.8k ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎| ‎ ‎click to library

request. can i rq mean dom hyune x his slutty best friend reader idk the plot but ... yeah smut 😃

「 ୨୧ authors note 」 i hope you like it <3 !!!

hyunjin supported everything you did; of course, as his best friend of many years, he supported all your doings. even if that meant listening to you go on and on about your latest fuck with a random dude in a bar — or the random man from tinder that you invited back to your home to fuck , or any of the random men you fuck weekly … yeah he listened to all of it — even if he dreamed of being one of the guys you fucked, maybe being the only guy you fucked.

“when i tell you he was big, hyunjin he was huge.” he sat barely listening to you talk as you laid on his bed , legs swinging off the side of his bed. “i feel like there’s a but to this?” he heard you sigh. “he couldn’t for the life of me make me cum.” you had no problem getting the guy; you just had trouble finding the right guy, a guy who get you there. “it’s like if you’re gonna have a big dick at least use it right, i thought all guys with big dicks knew to use them.”

maybe it was the slight buzz he had from the soju that was sitting on the nightstand; or maybe it was because your boobs we’re about to slip from your tank top, but it was like his mouth moved before his brain could even register what to say. “just because a guy has a big dick doesn’t mean he knows how to use it.” he said. “you’ve fucked about 10 guys with quote big dicks and none of them made you cum, i thought you would’ve figured it out already.”

“you’re saying that like you know someone with a big dick and can use it.” your tank top strap falling down your shoulders, you smirked. “oh i do.” he said, hand coming up to your shoulder strap — the tension in the room suddenly changing and his eyes darkening as he grabbed the strap. “but you’re too busy slutting yourself out to random dudes to notice.” he yanked down the strap, your boobs finally free from the shirt. “hyune!”

you tried to cover your bust, but he was quick to slap your hands away. “finally get to see those tits you love showing other dudes.” you should've pushed him away, you were his best friend, it was highly inappropriate. but as he pushed you back , climbing on top of you and you actually got a feel of his hard cock — you quickly forgot about that and allowed him to pull all your clothes off.

“giving your body to just anyone who looks your way.” he slapped your bare cunt. “not even looking my way once.” he growled, grabbing the base of his cock, stroking himself. “messy fucking pussy, you just get wet for any guy don’t you?” you moaned as he used the pad of his thumb rubbing little circles on your bud. “ju-just you.”

“just me?” he smirked, rubbing his cock up and down your slit. “you mean you weren’t even wet when you were fucking them?” he teased you by pushing his tip into your hole. “just left them use you as a cum dump?” he pushed the rest of his cock inside you. “fuck!” both of you moaned out. “fuck you’re tight , clearly they weren’t that big , your little pussy is quivering right now, struggling to take my fat cock.” he groaned , slowly moving his hips. “this is what a real big cock is supposed to feel like.”

you weren’t gonna lie, he definitely was the biggest yet, his cock was stretching you out. “s-so big.” he chuckled condescendingly. “i know.” he cursed as he pulled out. “im about to ruin this pussy for anyone else.” he slammed back inside forcing his cock all the way in. “fucking slut.” he hissed , moving his hips , pulling your shirt down letting your boobs bounce freely. “tired of listening to how you slut yourself out.” he groaned. “you wanna be a slut , gonna fuck you like one.”

his hand coming up to your throat, squeezing as his cock bullied your sweet spot. “fuck fuck fuck!” you screamed. “to-too much hyune.” he didn’t slow down though, his thrust were relentless. “take it slut.” he cursed. “if you can take all those random dudes' cocks you can take mine.”

you were a mess; tears streaming down your face, the way his hips snapped against yours, his hands slapping your clit. “you’re crying? my dick is making you go dumb?” babbling nonsense as you felt your orgasm approaching. “fuck your pussy is squeezing me, you gonna cum slut?” you nodded. “cum. cum all over my cock.” your legs shook as you came, but he didn’t stop. “im not done.” he groaned. “you came but i didn't and don’t plan on stopping anytime soon.”

“gonna use this pussy as my own personal cumdump.”

©️LUVYENI

[ebodebo]

The Girl Can't Help It

-thinking about bodyguard!simon with princess!reader... MDNI

An unfamiliar knot twisted in your stomach at the sight. It was preposterous. Unbeknownst. A damn eye sore. A throng of women, all betrothed, all but ripping Simon, your bodyguard's, clothes off his body. 

How unbecoming.

You did not heed what the Prince of Prussia said, perhaps something about his recent diplomatic mission in Tahiti. All you could think about was Simon and the slew of women around him, boasting as if he would care about the wealth and jewels the women possessed or the innuendos they slipped into conversation.

Granted, he only replied with a bland array of 'mhm' or 'how insightful.' His disinterested tone did nothing to nudge the woman away.

"Your mind appears elsewhere, Princess," The Prince of Prussia remarked, absolving you of your thoughts. You flick your eyes to his, sucking in a breath.

"My apologies," you say. "I am feeling rather ill. Pardon me." You quickly issue. You are sure your mother and father would reevaluate your informalities, but you would deal with that when it came.

You find yourself turning swiftly to approach Simon. He's as poised as always, his hands neatly in front of him, resting on the other, despite the conversation around him.

Your eyes shifted between the women. You are sure one scowled at you for 'interrupting.' "I am feeling quite daft. I shall like to leave," you proclaim to Simon. His eyes flick to you, but his head stays stationary.

"Your father has asked that you say the entire time," He says casually. "For prospects." You tilt your head a bit, releasing an irritated sigh.

"I believe you should have more regard for what I am asking of you," you exasperated. He tilts his head slightly, merely squinting his eyes, clearly aware of some underlying factor in your sudden mood change.

"I'm afraid the king's orders are final, Princess," he says, fixating his eyes back on the crowd. You swear you see one of the women smirk, and suddenly, you get an urge to drag her through the mud in the pig's pen, and maybe that will wipe that smirk off her face.

If not, the sheep's pen shall do the job.

"The princess has finally felt the sting of rejection," one of the women whispers under her breath to another, loud enough so she knows you hear her. "Oh, I do wonder what that will do to her psyche," the woman snickers sarcastically looking directly into your eyes.

You suck in a breath. "You should be wary of your words," you begin; the woman's brow lifts up slightly, a conceding expression taking over her face, "I shall be the next sovereign, commanding a whole country, and you shall stay just as you are, in a loveless marriage, betrothed to a man who initiates more moves on your milkmaid than you," you enunciate.

The woman scoffs, her face blushing, as she tries to discredit your words. She dishes out every excuse for her husband's endeavors, but it is hard to discredit fact, which is what it was. She instead calls you foul-mouthed and haphazardly turns to go towards the drinks.

The other woman hurriedly followed her out of fear.

You turned towards Simon, who couldn't help how the corner of his lips quipped. "Big words for a princess," he remarks.

"Well—I would not have to use such...vocabulary if she would have minded her own business," you defend, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Whatever you say," he smirked a little before returning to the crowd, returning to a serious expression. You eye him, feeling slightly intimidated by his stature.

"I shall still like to leave, Simon," you press. He turns to you, his eyebrow raising impatiently.

"I told you—" He begins, his tone dry.

"I am aware of what you told me all of two minutes ago, Simon," you roll your eyes. "I still want to leave. There are no men to consider for the prospectus. And I am growing quite weary of you not listening to me," you conclude, eyes narrowing at him.

He lets out a dry laugh. "Alright, Your Highness. Let's get your poor, weary body out of here." You find yourself rolling your eyes yet again at his sarcastic tone. Though, you don't speak on it. You turn to walk out of the grand doorway, carefully moving through the sea of other patrons, many attempting to stop your stride to converse. You keep moving, with Simon following close behind.

Once you step into the hallway, you quickly scan the area, checking for loose guests. You smile when you realize everyone is occupied in the stateroom, swiftly gripping Simon's hand and moving the two of you into the small closet adjacent to your father's music room.

Simon locks the door to the quaint closet, his eyes burning into yours as he tightly grips your waist. "A closet?" He props as you delicately untie his tie, tossing it to the side.

"We cannot simply go into the music room. Did you forget what happened last time?" You raise a brow. He leans his face down, pressing deep kisses to your temple while slipping the short sleeve of your dress down your shoulder.

"I have no idea what you're talkin' about," he mutters into your collarbone, lips dragging to kiss your sternum. You release a small, breathy moan, bringing your hands to thread through his light hair.

"You broke my father's piano," you meant for it to come out assertive, but it came out more breathless. He snakes his hand around your back, carefully dragging the zipper down, making your dress pool at your feet.

"I seem to remember you were the one on the keys," he gruffs into your lips before engulfing them with his own.

It had only been a few days since the last time you and Simon had...connected. However, with how both of your bodies react to a simple kiss, you would have guessed it has been months.

"Because you put me on the keys," you choke out as Simon's tongue drags across your sensitive skin, starting at your neck all the way until he's sunk down on his knees in front of you.

"Since you have a better memory than me, what did we do after I put you on the keys?" He murmured into the flesh of your thigh, teeth grazing the fabric of the waistband of your panties. You grip his head, pushing more into you, desperate for more friction. "Huh?" He tuts against your skin.

"I—you, well, we had intercourse," you say earnestly, gripping the shelf behind you to gain more stability. His gruff laugh traveled up your leg all the way up to your mouth, eliciting a moan from you.

"Intercourse?" He jibed. "No. Gimme all the gruesome details, baby. None of that proper shit." He moved his face from your thigh to press a deep kiss to your clothed cunt.

"I do not know—ah—what you speak of," you choke out, attempting to push yourself into his face more with your hands gripping either side of his cheeks.

"Come on," he urged, his nose rubbing against your clit in the process. "Don't play dumb with me, sweetheart." He grips your thighs, tugging himself closer to you. He substituted his nose in favor of his mouth, hurriedly pressing his hot, wet lips to your aching clit.

You whine as you feel the friction increase. "Tell me, or I won't let you come," he groans into you. You reply with a pathetic whimper, body shamelessly grinding against his face.

"You used—you used your fingers," You grit out, throwing your head back as his teeth pierced through the thin fabric. He slips his tongue through the new tear, lapsing at your throbbing clit.

"That all?" His brisque voice vibrated against you.

"No. You, you fucked me," you voice. You receive a low groan in response. Got him. "I was so wet you just, you just slipped in," you continue, moaning as you see one of his hands slip from one of your thighs to massage his clothed cock.

"My, my. Sure got a tongue on you for a princess," he jests, a strain in his voice as he massages himself with much pace. His mouth picks up the pace on your cunt, tongue continuing to lapse around your sensitive bud.

"I could say the same for you, Simon. " Your voice is hoarse. You feel the corners of his mouth lift at your innuendo, which makes you form a smirk of your own.

"Keep talkin' to me," he almost begs. His hand and mouth are moving briskly; you're grinding against his face, hands gripping the back of his head.

"Fuck, you, you feel so good," you whine out. You swear you hear him moan, but you can't be too sure as his face is currently suffocating against your skin. You would ask him if he could breathe, but you knew he wouldn't move until you came.

"You always feel so fucking good," you wail as your orgasm hits you like a train, Simon's following shortly behind. He's gripping you tight so as not to fall over, leaning his forehead into your stomach as his orgasm settles.

Once both of your post-orgasmic haze dissipates, Simon stands to straighten out your dress. You bend slightly to pick up his tie strung on the ground, carefully tying it around his neck neatly.

"You have soiled your trousers," you observe, looking down at the wet spot on the front rise of his slacks. He lets out a quiet laugh at your inspection, leaning his head down to kiss the shell of your ear, muttering a gruff, 'And whose fault is that?'

Shit, maybe this whole bodyguard thing wasn't so bad.

a/n: boomshakalaka yesss gawdddd

[against-forms-recognizable]

Alert! Alert! Most every frightened fear-monger was raised by a mother. Do you think she might have some role in creating the monsters their offspring become? Or are the domineering, child-beating, Abu Ghraib, star-quality commandeers of the global-stage-sans-cock simply patriarchs with pussies? What do you call women who urge — if not order — their men to war to return as heroes protecting the oh-so-sweet and suddenly available booty? From ancient Helen of Troy to the re-released Lysistrata, the cunt is no stranger to the imperial battlefield. Tell me, is it gender, class, or race privilege that keeps the blood off the hands of the Albrights, Elizabeths, Thatchers, Rices...? Is it sexism that keeps women ‘behind the lines’ stuck with the ‘inferior’ roles of director, coordinator, or yellow-ribbonier of the men who slaughter for ‘freedom’? [...] But let’s get real. We don’t know shit about the distant past with ANY certainty so lets stick with today. Teachers are mostly female, and along with the mommy dearests — and aides de camp Mattel, Disney, and countless other spectacular brands seared onto our overly large brains — have primary responsibility for schooling/punishing the wildness (as in the spontaneous self-exploration of the curious delights and even pains of life) right the fuck on out of us. “Be good girls and boys — the Machine needs you to behave in order to use (then kill) you efficiently later.” Or am I still blaming the big-V, glossing over an innate female naiveté, ignoring a forced ignore-ance of woman’s subjugation and oppression? Bullshit! Women are intelligent, aware, and more than innocent bystanders or collateral damage in the brutal war on life; far more than empty vessels to be filled by Man’s cock and ideals. Women are as capable of greedy, destructive, bitchin’ behavior of our own accord as we are of submissive (eventually self-destructive) acceptance of another’s brutality. [...] Feminist consciousness-raising focused a magnifying glass on men’s oppression of women. A useful beginning perhaps, but the scope was never expanded to explore the greater duality we share as both possessor and dispossessed. Women still don’t talk about the shit we ought to be talking about if we are going to spend so damn many words and trees on our liberation. Feminists talk about taking back the night (I’ll take a whole lot more day, thank you!) while the fucking pigs guard their flanks. Does it matter if the swine are women? Men are relegated to the back of the line if they’re permitted at all (as though the night is safe for men and as if these women have shit to say about who is or is not allowed in the streets!). Hey mamas, guess what? Your ass-end is one of the most vulnerable points in your rigid formation — you can’t see what’s coming! You send the ‘brothers’ to the back (sound familiar), elevating the ‘sisterhood’ to it’s proper place of leadership, prominence, and self-protection. In reality, those men have got your back while you still play the fool.

On the topic of Leftist Andrew Tate and other mythical creatures of the liberal mind

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

For the first time since they saved the world, since Steve carried Eddie out of hell, and their bat bites had healed, Eddie was finally hanging out with Steve without impending doom hanging over their heads. Robin was also there as she didn't want to miss Steve cooking, and Eddie didn't blame her.

"Holy fucking shit!" Eddie yelled, slamming down his fork. "Fucking marry me."

Steve blinked at him, blushing, and his mouth fell open. He quickly closed it and smiled.

"Okay!"

"Oh! I'll go get the book!" Robin exclaimed, clapping her hands as she ran off.

"Book?" Eddie asked. "What? What's going on?"

Robin soon came back with a large white binder with a lock on it. She slammed it on the table and pulled out a key from under her shirt, unlocking it.

"This is Steve’s wedding book. As his best man, I hold the key," Robin said.

"Wait, hold on, that wasn't a real - ," Eddie started to say.

"Ooh, some of these were definitely written before me. That's definitely Baby Steve’s handwriting. . . Ooh, I can just imagine little Stevie putting a white sheet over his perfect hair," Robin said. "So, Spring, Fall, Summer, or Winter?"

"I was thinking Fall-ish," Steve said. "Near the end of August, maybe in September. Not too cold, not too hot."

Robin closed her eyes and held a pen in the air. Where did the pen come from?

"August 30th! I feel it! Perfect day!" Robin exclaimed.

"Wait, just a goddamn minute! What are you doing?!" Eddie shrieked.

"Planning your wedding to Steve, duh," Robin said, rolling her eyes. "Now, Steve, are you sure about the groom?"

"Yeah," Steve said, grinning. "He's funny, very cute, and good with kids. Yeah, I'll take him."

"You like men?!" Eddie asked.

"Duh, babe, keep up. He's already told you this," Robin said.

"Fucking when?!" Eddie asked.

"In the hospital," Steve replied.

"When I was on painkillers?!" He asked.

"You still want Dustin to be the flower girl?" Robin asked Eddie.

"Oh, shit, that actually would be hilarious- no, nope, no way! This isn't happening!" Eddie yelled.

"Did you ask Steve to marry you?" Robin asked.

"Well, yes, but - "

"Did he say yes?"

"Again, yes, however - "

"Then you're engaged. Congratulations," Robin said.

"Ooh, we have enough money in the budget for weddings 2, 5, and 8!" Steve explained, looking over her shoulder.

"When I said that Steve should marry me, I wasn't -," Eddie said.

"Can you think of a reason why you shouldn't marry Steve?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't even know if I like men! I like women!" Eddie shrieked, running his hands over his face.

"You said something different in the hospital," Steve said.

"You mean, when I was on painkillers?!" He asked. "You're fucking with me. You guys are fucking with me."

"Babe, you seem stressed out by all this wedding planning," Steve said, taking his hand.

"I am VERY stressed out," Eddie said.

"Just let me and Robin handle it. I have been planning my wedding since I was like five, and trust me, I have never been a fan of big weddings, so it's going to be low-key and tasteful," Steve said, squeezing his hand.

"This is illegal," Eddie said weakly and in disbelief.

"Yeah, like none of us have ever done anything illegal," Steve rolled his eyes. "A marriage is more than just a piece of paper. Besides, I don't want the government at my wedding anyway."

"Fuck, yeah, me neither," Eddie said, shaking his head. "This is crazy!"

"Look, Eddie, I know this is sudden, and I know how scary it is to deal with all of this as well as speed running through a sexuality crisis. It's been a couple of months, but there were days where I sat by your bedside, hoping you would wake up, and when you did, I realized that I wanted to wake up next to you every morning," Steve said softly, rubbing his thumb. "I want to hear every single rant, even the ones where you're being as asshole. I love you, and if you really don't want to do this, then I'll back down."

Eddie looked into Steve’s hazel eyes, swallowing thickly as he imagined being married to him and waking up with him every day. He already knew that Steve could handle how chaotic he could be, how much he loved the kids despite his loud protests, and he remembered all the talks about their asshole fathers who basically abandoned them. Eddie remembered waking up in the hospital and seeing Steve’s relieved red rimmed eyes. He knew without a doubt that Steve was a partner that he could depend on.

"Okay! I've decided that I'm just going to let this happen!" Eddie said, throwing up his hand. "But I can't be domesticated! I refuse!"

"Wouldn't have it any other way," Steve grinned.

"Also, during one of the dances, we're playing Metallica!" He yelled.

"Done!"

Steve leaned over the table and kissed Eddie, who didn't waste a second kissing him back. Yeah, he liked it, and he wasn't ever going to kiss anyone else. On some level, he had known that as soon as he had slammed Steve against the wall of that boathouse.

"Oh my God! I'm marrying Steve Harrington!"

TWO DAYS LATER. . .

Eddie was sprawled out on the couch in his brand new living room when Wayne came in, back from his fishing trip. Eddie frowned as he tried to remember what he was supposed to be doing.

"So, how'd the dinner with Steve go?" Wayne asked.

"Well, the food was so good that I asked Steve to marry me, and he said yes," Eddie said. "It's on August 30th, save the date."

"You're hilarious, son," Wayne said, rolling his eyes. "You should be a comedian."

Suddenly, Steve burst out of the kitchen, looking flustered.

"Okay, I decided to be the bigger person here. I'm going to invite my parents to the wedding," Steve said. "If they don't come, they don't come. Hopper's already agreed to walk me down the aisle. Oh, hey, Wayne. I hope you don't mind, I wanted to cook for my fiancé and my future father in law. How was the fishing trip?"

Wayne stared at him, blinking at Steve and then at Eddie. Wayne sighed, shaking his head.

"Not a goddamn bite. Waste of a trip," Wayne said.

"Damn," Steve said and looked at the kitchen. "I have to check on the food. Sorry. I want to hear more about it!"

"Smells good, son!" Wayne yelled and plopped down on the couch next to Eddie.

"You accepted that pretty quickly," Eddie said.

"You can't do better than Steve. He went to hell and back for you. He never left your side. . .he loves you, and I can't ask for a better partner for my boy. . .speaking of why aren't you in there helping your fella?" Wayne asked.

"He kicked me out," Eddie pouted.

"You almost took my head off with a skillet!" Steve exclaimed.

"I nearly took him out, and he still wants to be with me," Eddie sighed happily and tucked his head into Wayne's shoulder. "By the way, when you walk me down the aisle, you can't let me fall, you know how I am."

"I would never let you fall."

Eddie smiled. Despite everything that happened, that's still happening. . .Eddie was happy, and he was getting married to the most wonderful guy in the entire world. Suddenly, Eddie sat up.

"Oh, no," Eddie said.

"What?"

"We told Dustin and the kids, but I didn't think to tell Ronnie," Eddie gasped.

"You mean, your best friend since you were eight?" Wayne asked.

"Yeah, I am in deep - "

Suddenly, the front door slammed open, and Ronnie Ecker stood there in all her long-legged glory.

"You're getting married to Steve Harrington?!" She asked. "And I had to hear about it from a 12 year old?!"

"He's 14, actually," Eddie said casually. "How was the trip from New York?"

Eddie suddenly remembered the thing Robin had reminded him to do: don't forget to tell your platonic soulmate.

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

Hai^^ I love your stories so much and I was wondering if you could make one about 80s slash x reader? And how the reader’s parents and slash’s mom were friends and forced them to meet each other?

When the reader sees slash - she kinda into him and the more she stares at him the more attractive gets and slash is a bit older than her and finds her funny and weird as he notices that she’s been staring at him the whole time during dinner.

It isn’t until they’re left alone that they start talking to each other and slash makes playful gestures and teases towards her? With smut and fluff of course :P

I hope that’s not a lot^^ anyways whenever you get the time^^

A/n: I wrote this in class and barely finished so the end is kind of shit

Warnings: smut, arranged marriage trope(ish), if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

I think I’ve used this before but no I didn’t bc I said so

Ever since you were young, around twelve, there was always this pressure to be with someone, relatives coming by and asking where your boyfriend was. It was annoying and you couldn’t get away from it.

Your parents only got worse as you got older, inviting friends over with suitors. Annoying old men shoving money and power in your face, none of it was ever for you they just wanted to show you what they had. They didn’t care about you.

This dinner was just like any other, you had to get all dressed up to meet some guy your parents knew. He’d be old, creepy and wasting away, just wanting someone to bed whenever he wanted, someone to beat, who he could show around town as he pleased.

You were in your room, getting ready as per usual. You stared at your reflection in the mirror, pristine and proper, white floral dress and golden makeup. Just once you wanted to do something bigger, something harsher.

The doorbell rang and you were called down to meet the guests. You say yourself at the table, ready to meet the next suitor to leave.

A woman walked through, she was gorgeous and had a beautiful smile, behind her came a man with bigger hair than his mother. He shared those big, dark eyes, full lips, but he didn’t smile. He wasn’t dressed up all fancy, he wore jeans and a leather jacket over a Ramones shirt that was torn up and well loved, to say the least.

You weren’t allowed to listen to the Ramones, devils music you were told. This man was the devil incarnate and you were certain he’d be the one to take you away.

Your mother sat down next to you and placed a hand on your knee, leaning into you. “Don’t you dare go looking at this one all puppy eyed, I gave you good men you will not be falling for this monstrosity.” She said through gritted teeth, but her warning was moot, you’d already made up your mind.

The dinner went as every other did, your mother would ask questions and listen closely to the answers, except she didn’t. She didn’t care what this man, Saul was his name, had to say.

You sat idly by and ate, gaze flickering over to him all too frequently, he was sure to notice but he didn’t bring it up or look back at you.

His voice didn’t match his appearance. He was soft spoken and only spoke when told to, he rarely looked up from his plate and when he did he didn’t make eye contact.

Saul Hudson to be wed, you could see it in the papers now.

“I play guitar in a band.” He said, it broke through your day dreaming haze.

“You-you play..?” Your mother sputtered out, unable to even finish her sentence.

Saul nodded, a wide grin on his face and he looked up at you, still not making eye contact. His gaze flicked from your lips down to your shoulders, you didn’t dare guess where else he was looking. “Big band, Guns N’ Roses.” He clarified. “Playing stadiums now.” His mother smiled proudly over at him.

You wiped your mouth on a napkin and stood, quietly excusing yourself from the table. The food was gone and what was left needed to be packed away now anyway, you were just leaving it for other people.

You went to your room and sat down at your desk once more, staring at yourself in the mirror. Something new filled you, you wanted his attention, all of it. You wanted to run with him, to venture with him. He’d take you all over with his band and he’d love you. He was gentle and he wouldn’t hurt you, he wouldn’t flaunt his money, only buy you jewelry for your birthday and flowers when he loved you, just because.

You dug through your drawers and tried to find something… big, a statement piece for your face. Your attention snapped to the door as it opened and Saul walked in.

He was hesitant at first, staring at you bent over a desk drawer and digging through it like a mad man. He came over and stood just beside you, placing a hand on your lower back as he looked through the drawers for you.

Saul pulled out a deep red lipstick. He brought a finger under your chin and tilted your head for him to see you properly.

You were struck, in your core a pulse came with a heat, a desire, but you snapped out of it quick enough to wipe the gloss you already had off your lips so he’d have a bare canvas to work with.

He smiled down at you and got to work, using the tip yo outline your lips before filling them in.

You looked back at yourself in the mirror, Saul now stood behind you with his hands on your hips. He didn’t look in the mirror, he stared at you in front of him, the side of your face and how pleased you seemed with his work.

You turned back to him. “Do more.” You asked, drawing a chuckle from him and he shook his head, by god you made him laugh and you wanted to hear it again and again for as long as you lived.

“I don’t know anymore.” He said, bringing his hands to your shoulders and turning you around again. He leaned down to you, his lips caressing the shell of your ear. “You do it, you can’t mess up when it’s just gonna be running down your face in a minute anyway.”

You paused a moment and looked back to him. “Why? Will you make me cry?” He nodded confidently, you looked back to the mirror. “Why would you do that? Will you leave?” You asked curiously.

“More than one way to make someone cry.” He said, rubbing your shoulders. He inhaled deeply, taking in your saddened expression, you clearly didn’t get what he was referring to. He’d just have to show you once you looked the part, well enough the part anyway, you didn’t have the clothes.

“Heavier on the eyes.” He said as you tapped on a bright red, something to connect the lipstick while still being different. You picked up your pencil liner but he took it from you and had you turn towards him. “Gimme a second.” He said with a smile, being careful to not poke you in the eye as he worked.

He was giggling when he turned you back to the mirror. You had a leopard print on your eyelids and whiskers on your cheeks. The print on your eyes was pretty, neat and well done, the whiskers were an afterthought he was enjoying much too much.

You stood up and turned to him, placing your hands on his shoulders. “It’s perfect!” You exclaimed, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him, he couldn’t say no to that.

He wasn’t a gentleman, not by a long shot, he was just sweet. The first chance he got his hands were on your ass, pulling your dress up over your head and not caring if he smudged it, not one bit.

Your arms went around his neck and he lifted you up, allowing you to wrap your legs around his waist while he carried you to your bed and laid you down.

He was laying over you, an arm holding him up by your head, his other hand moved down between your legs, rubbing through your folds and catching your clit, feeling how wet you already were for him.

“You’ve never done this before, have you?” He asked, already starting to trail kisses up your jaw towards your ear. You hesitated before slowly shook your head, hoping it wouldn’t make him stop. Luckily he didn’t and just sucked his teeth. “Well, I don’t feel like slowing down for you.” He said sitting back up and undo his jeans, pushing them down just enough for his dick to spring free, of course he didn’t wear boxers. “Just tell me if it hurts.” He said as he pushed into you, groaning as he did.

Despite his words he did give you a minute to adjust to him, running his hands up and down yours sides until he felt you were ready and he started moving, slow at first but he couldn’t keep that pace for long.

His hands gripped your hips tighter, tugging you closer to him as his hips slammed into yours, each thrust bringing you closer to an edge you’d never seen before.

He was perfect above you, full lips, bruised just like yours, parted ever so slightly in soft, low grunts and groans. Sweat clung to his curls just around his face, the rest of his mane framing his sharp jaw. His teeth were crooked and he didn’t look right at you, focusing on feeling good, making you feel good.

You didn’t have anything to compare it to, but this was definitely the best you’d ever felt. Free, and it felt so good. You reached down and found your clit, rubbing it in circles.

Saul chuckled over you and nodded in approval. “Just keep doing that, keep doing that.” He said. You could feel him inside you, veins dragging against your gummy walls, cunt pulling him in for more, every time he pulled away you sucked him back in.

You melted into the mattress, vision going white and when you came doing from it you felt something warm spilling out inside you, Saul’s face tucked into you and he kissed over your chest, latching onto your nipple and swirling his tongue around it.

Finally he pulled away and pulled away and sat up, fixing his pants before heading out to your balcony. You saw he was smoking, he just looked so… you couldn’t even describe it.

You got your dress back on and went out to stand with him.

He smiled at you when you came out, he held the cigarette out for you but took it away before you got the chance to get it. “No way in hell am I letting you do that.” He said with a laugh.

You sighed and leaned your head on his shoulder. He glanced down at you as he took a drag from his cigarette. “It’s pretty tonight.” You said.

He nodded, looking out on the cities lights below. Your house was up on a mountain, giving you a good view all around. “I bet it’s a pretty night for you every night.”

You smirked up at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you live here, you see it every night.” That’s not what you were expecting.

You looked back out to the city. “I want to see more… with you, Saul.”

He let out a heavy sigh, he wanted you with him too. You were intriguing to him, you needed a chance to rebel and he knew you would never stay with him, not after growing up like this, but he could be the one with you to see the world and that was enough. “Slash.” He said. “If you’re coming with me you call me Slash.”

“Slash.” You repeated. “Slash Hudson.” He might regret this, but he didn’t care. In that moment, he didn’t care about anything.

[yoditopascal]

Like A Prayer (Part 5)

summary: best friends with wade you’re always being dragged into something even when he’s not trying to, what are you to do when you find the fate of your timeline in the hands of yourself, your chaotic merc and an angry wolverine who’s hellbent on drinking himself to death?

content warnings: romance, some angst, a little fluff, character deaths, canon-typical violence, smut, lots of cussing, mutual pining, found family, drug and alcohol use, reader insert but with no use of y/n cuz I hate that shit, deadpool being deadpool, mentions of poor mental health (depression anxiety and ptsd mostly), mentions of cannibalism this chapter, scent marking, the honda odyssey scene needs a warning all on its own MINORS DNI

tag list: sorry if you weren’t tagged I tried tagging everyone that asked but some usernames didn’t work! @allmyn1ghts @blooket-scares-me @amararosesblog @talanyra @spideybv28 @sadslasher13 @night-spectrum @eveieforeve02 @fudosl @melonmochi @shycollectionwolfstuff

Previous Chapter//Next Chapter

I Miss the Rage

Your head feels heavy as you start to come to. You lull it to the side to dull the throbbing pain and it rests against something hard and fleshy.

“Don’t get too comfortable there princess.” A deep voice chuckles as your eyes snap open, adjusting to the harsh light of the sun. In front of you, you find the man from before, the one that had combust into flames to fight those Mad Maxy guys.

Realizing you had been leaning on him you go to pull yourself away only to realize you were tied together almost chest to chest if you weren’t shorter than him.

“You have a good nap?” He teased in good nature. You ignore him as you look around yourself trying to remember what happened for you to be here chained up like this.

Oh yeah the big ass magnet.

“Where am I?” You finally ask as your eyes land on the Wolverine. He was to your left chained up to Wade who was mumbling something about Thor in his sleep. The man you were currently pressed up against went to open his mouth to speak again when he’s cut off by Wade jolting himself awake.

“How long was I asleep?” He asks groggily as he leans on Wolverine’s shoulder. The Wolverine harshly shrugged him off.

“Not all of you was asleep.” He grumbles looking down at the man with disgust and annoyance.

Ignoring Wolverine, Wade went to check for his weapons when he, like you, suddenly realized he too was tied up pretty tightly to the Wolverine no less.

“Don’t bother, they were very thorough.” The man says as he watched him squirm around attempting to see if they really took everything from him.

“You know where we are, start talking.” The Wolverine barks at him, having only known this mysterious man for a few minutes you didn’t think he was bad enough to warrant that kind of angry reaction from him. The man raises an eyebrow at Wolverine and smirks.

“You’re in The Void. Think of it as purgatory. Reed called it a metaphysical junkyard where anything useless goes before it gets annihilated forever, and where the TVA sends people that don’t play nice with the rest of the multiverse.”

“Like you?” The Wolverine said harshly, this guy seriously needed to watch his tone.

“And you.” The man said as a particularly hard bump in the road sent you stumbling further into him, he put his bound arms around your waist to steady you. He smelled heavily of smoke and his natural musk, but it wasn't unpleasant, you had thought. When you looked up to apologize to him you could see that he wasn’t even looking at you, instead choosing to hold his gaze with the Wolverine’s who looked like he had smelled something sour. You looked back and forth between the two men, one wore a smirk and the other stuck with his perpetual frown, tired of whatever dance the two were doing with each other you cut in.

“Who are you?” You ask.

“The names Johnny, Johnny Storm.” He says finally looked down at you.

“What does the annihilating?” The Wolverine cuts you off, this time Johnny’s smirk drops as he answers.

“Alioth.”

“From Loki season 1 episode 5?!” Wade gasps in shock and lowkey excitement.

“Everyone here is on the run from Alioth. Most don’t make it. There’s a resistance though. Other people like us that manage to survive, we’re hiding out in the border lands, trying to find a way the fuck outta here.” Johnny continues as he looks out into the desert as he thinks about if he’ll have a chance to see them again, his friends, his new found family.

You saw the somber look in his eyes and just as you were about to say something to comfort him the Wolverine interrupts you again, this time with a gruff “Then that’s where we go.”

Wade kicks a foot up excitedly and if his hands were free you were sure he’d be clapping.

“We? Us? A team? The answer is yes! Shake on it!” He goes to lean towards you and Johnny but just as he does so the telltale snikt of Wolverine’s claws extending is heard as he cuts through the skin of Wade’s thigh.

“Fuck! You nicked it! Got the tip with your little steak knives!”

The Wolverine rolls his eyes as he looks back to Johnny. “The others can help us get back to the TVA. They can fix things.” He said more to himself than anyone else.

Johnny chuckles as he lets his head lull forward bumping into yours lightly and the Wolverine growls at him as he tries to shuffle towards you two.

“Something funny, bub?” He down right snarls as Johnny lifts his head tilting it innocently at him as the smirk from before returns to his face.

“She might have something to say about that.”

“Who’s she?” You ask.

“In The Void, you’re either food for Alioth, or you work for her.” Johnny says as he begins to explain to y’all exactly who she was.

One lengthy car ride and a dramatic rant from Johnny later you all reach the decayed body of a giant, its gloved hands, acting as a gate, opening upon your arrival.

“Paul Rudd finally aged.” Wade jokes but you could tell he was starting to get nervous, as the cars rolled to a stop. Surrounded all around you were goons of all sorts of backgrounds, some seemed quite familiar to you while others you had never seen before a day in your life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You know the drill if shit goes south don’t you babes?” Wade leans over as best as he could from the Wolverine’s side.

“You go right, I go left.” You nod as Wolverine looks between you two with a cocked brow. In his world you were an exceptionally skilled fighter, an x-man, were you the same in this one? He wondered.

“Keep your voices down,” the greasy man from before said as he came around to unlock the cage you all had been thrown in. “She don’t like the chatter.”

One by one the man unhooks you from the cage and drags you out until you’re standing by Johnny on the other side of the compound. Just as he goes to pull away from you, the greasy man grabs your chin forcing you to look him in his eyes as he smirks down at you showing off his filthy teeth. From the corner of your eye you can see the Wolverine starting to come to your rescue until he’s stopped and held back by some of the others surrounding you, with a snarl you rip your face away from his grip glaring up at him as he laughs down at you.

“Oh she’s gonna love you.” He grins before turning his back to you as he walks away. Just as you go to retort you’re stopped as you hear the Wolverine speak up

“Is that Charles?”

Looking up in the direction he was looking you spot a figure in a wheelchair approaching you four.

“Hey, hey, Chuck, it’s us!” Wade pipes up swinging his restrained arms to try and wave the figure over as if he knew you but the closer they got the more you realized something about it wasn’t quite right. The head while still bald was smaller and overall the figure just appeared more dainty and almost feminine.

Clearing the smoke that was wafting through the compound the figure rose to their feet from the wheelchair revealing a bald smiling woman as she descended the stairs to approach you all.

“That’s definitely not Chuck.” The Wolverine warns as he scents the air, he couldn’t get a good whiff of her with all the others around but he could definitely pick up your scent of fear.

“A Wolverine,” her voice was soft and quaint with a bit of an accent, “I wondered when I’d get one of you here.”

“You’re one of Xavier’s.” She points out as she looks him up and down in his suit like a fresh piece of meat, making your skin crawl.

“You know him?” The Wolverine asks and he looks down at her from his nose.

“Oh, I knew him,” she ponders for a moment before twirling around on her heel to look at you and Johnny now, “We shared a womb, I tried to strangle the sly little fellow with my umbilical cord.”

“I’ve never liked roommates,” Wade decides to chime in from the Wolverine’s side, “Mine’s blind, except she can see cocaine for some reason.” He chuckles nervously before turning back to Wolverine who hadn’t torn his hard gaze away from the bald woman just yet.

“Who are you?” The Wolverine finally asks.

“Charles Xavier’s twin, Cassandra Nova.” She grinned as she turns back to them.

“Oh, shit.” “I was an anal birth.” Both men said at the same time at the revelation.

“Jesus Wade.” You shook your head as you watched your best friend flounder in embarrassment, you knew being tied up without his weapons at his side Wade was probably feeling vulnerable right about now, healing factor or not.

“You two are adorable.” She smiled smiled going to pat Wade on his masked cheek before pointing a long bony finger exaggeratedly in Johnny’s direction

“And you,” she says walking up to the two of you once again, “I’ve been trying to catch this little firefly for years, haven’t I, Johnny?”

“You picked the wrong time to make new friends.” She tsked as she held his gaze.

“Oh, Johnny told us all about you!” Wade shouts over to her causing her to turn her gaze back to him and the Wolverine.

“Wade don’t.” You started to say, worry lacing your voice as you knew exactly what was about to come out of his mouth. He had a bad habit of being a terrible gossip.

“Yeah, maybe don’t bub.” The Wolverine agreed with you, looking at Johnny, who’s face had lost all its color, but it was too late.

“Yeah, Johnny told us you’re a psychotic, megalomaniacal asshole, his words not mine.” Wade recited word for word. “Hell bent on domination and pain.”

“You said all that about me?” Cassandra said, sounding almost as if she were flattered by his words as she batted her lashes at Johnny.

“No, no! I didn’t say anything!”

“Sticks and stones, Johnny! Don’t let her intimidate you!” Wade continues to go on about how Johnny had called her a pixie slab of third-rate dime store nut milk before he kept going.

“I have never said any of those words in my entire life!” Johnny shot back nervously but Wade waved him off.

“Ah! The modesty!” Wade laughs throwing his head back with a hand on his chest, “And people think I’m a shit-topper, but this guy,” He chef kisses his fingers through his mask, “next level.”

“This, I-I don’t even know what half of that even means!” Johnny stuttered fearfully.

“My hat’s off to you sir, truly.”

“I didn’t- he’s-, that’s- I-I-I don’t-!”

The next thing you knew it was completely silent before you heard a wet pop as something thick and warm splashed up against you, covering you in it. Turning to look at Johnny to see what it was you’re met with a pair of eyes widely staring at you, Johnny’s muscles and organs all out on display before he crumbles to the ground in a wet heap of viscera and gore.

You fall to your ass as the chains supporting Johnny give way, scrambling to scoot away. You felt tears well up as bile rose to your throat at the sight in front of you. You couldn’t peel your eyes away from the mass that had been your acquaintance just moments ago.

Everyone around you sounds muffled like they’re underwater as you looked down to your trembling hands, they were stained red with blood, you were covered in it from head to toe. Pulling at your restraints you go to scrub the carnage from your face, the rattling of the chains drawing Cassandra’s attention to you. She smiles down at you as she approaches placing a delicate hand under your chin to draw your gaze back to her.

Wade and the Wolverine go to spring forward towards you but are held back by Cassandra’s men, causing her to stop and look between the three of you, her smile growing more wicked.

“What exactly did you three do to wind up here in my humble abode?” She asks as she caresses your face in her hand, watching as the Wolverine tenses.

“Big Yellow here is a backup Anchor Being, and I’m Marvel Jesus, MJ if you're nasty. Honey buns over there is just my ride or die, more emphasis on the ride part. She’s not really important.” Wade answers, trying to deflect, he was trying to diminish you, minimize your importance so she would leave you alone but she still refused to let you go.

“This may be hard to hear, but there’s another British villain and he gonna fuck our universe, if me and jelly bean over there don’t stop him.” He says trying to step forward towards you two again but he’s pulled back by another one of her goons. Cassandra looks back between you and Wade and throws her head back with a laugh.

“Oh, honey, you guys don’t really strike me as a world-saving type.” She says wiping the tears from your eyes as she finally decides to let you go, turning herself back to Wade as she walks up to him.

“Oh? Did I hit a nerve?” She asks as she circles him, Wade is eerily quiet for a moment as he looks you over, making sure Cassandra hadn’t done anything to you that he had missed.

“Listen I didn’t want it to come to this but either you help us, or my friend here is gonna sing the entirety of the Greatest Showman, with zero warm up.” Wade finally blinks away from you as he nods his head back to the Wolverine at his side.

“Where’d you get the chair?” The Wolverine asks, completely ignoring Wade as Cassandra approaches.

“Once in a while, I do get an Xavier through here.” She shrugs as if it were the most boring thing in the world to talk about. “He didn’t care to find me so I found him instead.”

The Wolverine goes to open his mouth again when he’s interrupted by Wade letting out a long drawn out groan. “Oh my goooood, gen Z and they’re trauma-bragging!”

“Can’t you just stuff it down, or turn it into accomplishments or cancer like the rest of us?” He whines dramatically.

“I’m not like the rest of you,” she tells Wade before moving back to stand in front of the Wolverine “Except maybe the Wolverine.”

“Now we could be truly terrifying together.” She said circling around him as she holds his gaze

“Yeah? You’re that scary, huh?” He asked her not breaking eye contact as she does so. His fingers twitching at his side waiting to unleash his claws.

“The TVA certainly thought so, that’s why they sent me here before I could walk.” she says coming to stand in front of him again, she looks off into the distance for a moment, lost in thought, before Turning her attention back to him. “It’s the best thing that ever happened to me, I love it here.”

“You live in a garbage dump.” Wade chimes in but she simply smirks up at him before turning away, walking back over to where you still sat shocked on the ground.

“The Void is a paradise, I can wield my power here without shame.” She says over her shoulder to the two men.

“Unfortunately, I had no Charles Xavier to teach me temperance.” She says raising your face with her chin. She goes to touch your forehead with a single finger, dragging it down until it sat in between your eyes. “I have to get my hands dirty.”

Slowly she began to push in causing you to cry out at the intrusion. The Wolverine breaks free of his capture’s hold and goes to lunge at Cassandra, claws drawn, before she holds up a hand stopping him mid-air.

“That’s not very nice now is it?” She says without looking away from your pain riddled face as she continues to finger you between the eyes. With a flick of her wrist she sends Wolverine pummeling down into the ground until he’s coughing up dirt, only his claws still visible, before flinging him far away, out of sight.

“Now then, if I can’t have myself a Wolverine, I’ll have to settle for the next best thing.” She said pushing in even further. “His little devil.”

You scream out in pain as a pressure builds behind your eyelids and in your sinuses. Flashes of images passed over you like your nightmares before. First you were strapped to a table as Ajax painfully tore into you and stitched you back up again. He never bothered to use anesthesia on you when he “operated”, always said it was a waste of time and resources, next you were in a tank filled with water as you banged on the glass trying to get out so you wouldn’t drown.

More memories flashed before your eyes flickering like a tv switching channels, memories of your childhood with your alcohol dad and getting diagnosed with cancer right out of high school, memories of you first meeting Wade and that time when your healing factor kicked in for the first time saving your life, all of it passed by in a blur as you continued to cry out, it felt like your head was being split in two.

“What’s this? You don’t even know about this yet do you?” Cassandra suddenly asks you as if she had found something with her digging, she dips another finger into you as she leans forward watched Wade struggle to get to you from the corner of her eye with a smirk. “Don’t worry darling, I can help you with that.”

Suddenly there’s a pulling sensation as the thumbing from before returns at full force. Your head feels like it’s being ripped apart and pulled back together at the same time.

“Relax, I got you.”

I got you.

It echoes over and over again with the pounding of your head until it all comes to a stop as you black out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wade stops struggling momentarily as he watches you fall limp. Cassandra stands to her feet flicking your brain juice from her fingers as she turns to her.

“Tie her up, I feel this is about to get real interesting.” Her men scramble away from Wade in a hurry to do as she asks before she could do the same to them. Cassandra raised a single nimble finger in the air as she approached Wade readying herself to enter his brain.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, I don’t want the smoke!” He holds up his hands in surrender. Eyes still on your limp frame for a moment before he tears his gaze away to look at Cassandra pleadingly. “We don’t have any beef with you. I just want to get us home and save my friends.”

“Well, the thing is, I could get you home.” She said as if contemplating it. “But I don’t want to.” She turns her attention back to her men who were now surrounding you with ropes as they got ready to bind your unconscious body.

Reaching down to his boot with his now free hands Wade pulls out a small hunting knife, baby knife as you had so cutely dubbed it, and raises it, threatening her with it.

Cassandra smiles at him as she watches him with a cocked head.

“Trying to play hero?” She asks

“I don’t wanna have to do this to ya Calliou but you hurt my friend so now it’s baby knife’s turn to fuck you in the face.” Wade says, nodding down to his knife in hand. Suddenly Cassandra disappears from his line of vision and before he has a chance to register where she went he feels fingers starting to dig into his skull.

“What do you really want, Wade Wilson?” Cassandra asks from behind him as she starts to sink her fingers into his head, phasing through his mask and skin.

“Uh, your fingers are inside me, but not in a good way.” He groans as she starts to dive in deeper, watching as his memories ticked by.

“You’re so lost Mr. Wilson, let me help you.” She cooes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

From the ground where she had left you, you start to sink even deeper into your head as an unfamiliar pull in your stomach makes you roll at the new sensation.

I got you.

I got you.

It keeps repeating over and over again like a mantra as your skin begins to prickle up in a cold sweat. You were laid out in a desert somewhere so the warmth was unavoidable but the heat you were starting to feel different it started from a coil in the pit of your belly and grew more and more unbearable as it spread. It was all over you, on your skin and even inside you and the thumping sound? God the thumping sound was getting louder and louder and so much more concentrated, it felt like your ears were about to bleed. It was all too much at once, it had to stop, you had to make it stop, you thought as you writhed on the ground.

You could feel your nails and teeth as if they were growing, becoming longer, more razor sharp and you could smell everything. There was the smell of the dirt and the earth beneath you followed by the smell of sweat and the stink of something sour. Then you caught a whiff of something sickly almost cancerous, it made your gut twist but it was vaguely familiar to you, then there was something musky and comforting followed by something more floral with just a hint of blood that made your skin crawl at the smell of it.

You could hear everything too. Clambering to cover your ears with your hands, you tried to shield out the thumping sounds that were driving you absolutely crazy, only they weren’t just random thumps anymore, some were more calm while others were more rapid, almost like the heartbeat of someone scared, it was giving you a migraine.

It was driving you to your wits end, you needed someone, anyone to make it stop. Just as it all seemed to be too much to bear there was an eerie calm that washed over you for just a moment before it all came crashing down all around you as you felt someone’s grimy hand brush up against your upper arm.

Snapping your eyes open you rose to your feet, grabbing at the first person you saw, the one grabbing your arm, holding him by his neck as you stood. The tighter you held him the man by his throat the weaker his sounds got for your sensitive ears, there was a resounding gurgle as your claws dug in sinking into his trachea before it all became quiet again. It was peaceful only for a second.

Another hand reached out, snatching you up by your hair, he screams something unintelligible in your face, probably about killing his friend, but you don’t hear him, you don’t care to as you reach up to pull him closer, sinking your teeth into his exposed neck and ripping out a chunk as you pull away. The foul taste of his blood fills your mouth making your stomach lurch.

Bullets start flying now as he hits the ground grasping at his bleeding throat. Spitting out the disgusting chuck of flesh that assaulted your taste buds you lunge at the next person closest to you, one of the ones who was firing. Bullets pierced through you but the wounds healed up almost instantly as you tore through the army of mutant goons, some tried to run and fight back but that only made you angry, more bloodthirsty as you worked your way through them.

Blood flowed through your clawed hands as you clumsily hacked and slashed your way through the throngs of men firing at you. Soon the bullets didn’t even penetrate your skin as they defected off of you leaving only minor bumps in their wake. Just as some of the men started to surround you trying their best to hold you down with whatever restraints they could find you let out an ear piercing shriek. Everyone around you clutched their hands to their ears, trying to stop the sound from bursting their ear drums, even the man dressed in all red you had smelled earlier was bent over in pain. Everyone except that bald chick, who simply watched you, eyes blown wide with excitement and awe as she smiled at you.

You made quick work of the goons that were left, the others having made their escape as you slaughtered their teammates. Slowly you stood from the body you had just dropped, blood dripped from your clawed hands as you turned your attention towards the only other person standing before you besides the red man who looked over you in shock and absolute horror. Awww dCassandra. Your foggy brain had told you, that's what she was called. You vaguely recognized her, remembered the pain she put you through, the fear. She had to pay.

Running at her on all fours you thrust your body into the air, lunging for her throat before you're caught and stopped mid-air by an invisible force.

“My aren’t you the little animal.”

You crawl and snarl as you foam at the mouth struggling at the invisible force holding you back from ripping her apart like you did all the others. Suddenly your body is situated up right, still floating above Cassandra’s head as she looks you over with another one of those sickeningly sweet smiles of hers.

“As much as I love your enthusiasm darling, I think we need to teach this rabid dog a little more about control, don’t you?”

With a twist of her wrist you feel a pressure, first it was slight then it intensified tenfold. It felt like an elephant had sat right on your chest as the force continued to build and build until you heard a snap. At first you didn’t know what it was, until you’re hit with a wall of pain that you realized as you cried out, she had broken your ribs. The pain was almost too much to comprehend as it snapped something back awake inside of you. Your teeth and nails start to turn back to their normal length as the thumping you were hearing earlier begins to dull, something shines inside of her eyes as she watches your body return to normal.

“Now that is interesting.” Cassandra all but giggles as she observes you.

Just as she opens her mouth to speak again, six adamantium blades shoot through her chest as the Wolverine, finally free from his dirt prison, stabs Cassandra from behind, forcing her to drop you from her hold.

She looks down in shock for a minute as blood trickles down her chin before she smiles back at the Wolverine, tapping her chest lightly forcing his claws to retract against his will with a snakt.

With a flick of her wrist she sends the Wolverine flying backwards again, this time not as far as she turns her attention back to you, who was slowly and cautiously being approached by Wade. A crack of thunder and a spark of lighting catches her attention as she looks up into the distance and grins at the approach of Alioth.

“Well, this has been fun, but the big guy needs to eat, and the rent is due.” She says turning on her heel as she begins to retreat further into her compound wiping the blood from her bottom lip, “By the way, you’re the rent.”

From the ground you shook your head, trying to free yourself from the brain fog as you tried to piece together what just happened. First you were tied up to Johnny then his skin evaporated and the next thing you knew Cassandra was finger fucking your brain in front of everyone and then….nothing.

Why did your body hurt so much and what the actual fuck had just happened to you?

Just as you were about to ask aloud what was going on, Wade’s red boots were in your line of vision as he scooped you up to your feet, tucking you up under his arm as he dragged you away from the death cloud that was steadily approaching the compound.

“Up we go little Miss Murder!” He says as you pick up the pace.

In front of you you spot the Wolverine as he kicks and claws at the scrapped sentinel leg that had knocked you unconscious earlier, forcing it to start up with a loud rumble.

“You guys coming or what?!” He yells over the roar of the boot’s rocket as it starts to lift him into the air, he holds out a hand for you to take but Wade beats you to it as he snatches it up, sandwiching you between him and the Wolverine as the leg takes off into the air.

[ccadaver]

When Jason was younger, he loved being physically close to people. When he hung out with friends, they'd sit close together to play a game of uno, he'd laugh so hard he'd hit the person closest to him, he'd toss an arm over his friend's shoulder.

Then he was taken from the streets and brought to a mansion. Huge open spaces left no need for closeness like the small rooms he was used to. Bruce would let him hang around him, draped over his shoulders as the grimacing man pulled up casefiles on the computer, but never reciprocated. Because Bruce is closed off, just had his son move out and was grieving what once was. Sometimes he'd be in a good mood and ruffle Jason's hair if he'd gotten a good grade in school or finally perfected a self-defense move.

He went to a private school, where rich kids gloated about their wealth and asked Jason what he'd gotten for Christmas. When Jason replied, glowing with pride, they laughed. He'd gotten a first edition Pride and Prejudice, but the kids said it was a girl book and that reading is for nerds. Needless to say, he didn't get along very well.

He'd lean up against Alfred when reading in the library, but the butler frequently had to leave to do his duties, leaving his side cold.

Eventually, he turned to the family dog, Ace, and to Bruce's dismay he got the dog to cuddle up next to him while he slept. Alfred still has a picture of the first time he'd seen it, and keeps it in his wallet. He never said anything, but once remarked about the dog hair on the sheets being impossible to remove.

Then Jason, optimistic and confident, went after Joker. We all know how that ended.

His mother betrayed him, but, loyal as a dog to its master, he shielded her from the blast. He died.

When he came back, the first thing he remembers is the pain of digging through silk and wood and dirt and grass. His fingers aching. In one big blur, there was pain. Men approaching him, beating him to get a reaction. Reflexes learned from the Bat kicked in and he blocked, but the stinging of the hits grew deeper than skin.

Then he awoke, fully, in a stinging pool of green, viscous liquid. His bones ache, his skin nearly bursts, and immediately he is torn out by a clawed hand. Talia Al Ghul, with her long acrylic nails, rips open his skin as she heaves him from the pool.

Pain. So much of it. She strokes his hair, but the remnants of the Lazarus pit still sting, and she's just massaging it deeper into his scalp.

Then they're running, fleeing from her grandfather. The wind is icy and cuts through clothes, more pain. At the edge of a cliff, he stares with wide eyes as she shoves a backpack into his arms and pushes him.

He falls through icy air into shards of even colder water.

The pain fuels him, drives him to seek the shore. It drives him to anger, rage. Why does it hurt? Why, why does everything hurt all the time? His scars, his skin, his heart. He remembers Bruce. Cold, callous, calculating. Alfred, loving but too busy with his duties. His classmates, laughing at him. A heaviness like a brick in his gut weighs him down and drives him.

He learns, he kills, he fights, he hurts.

When Talia sits across from him at a dining table, she drags soft fingers over his callused hands, and... it hurts. There are no nails, only soft pads of her fingers. Still, it sends a signal of pain, of danger, to his brain. He pulls his hand back and swallows a hiss.

Then he returns, the prodigal son of the Bat. Fully clothed, boots to gloves to even a helmet. No one is touching him, never again.

He places a bomb on the Batmobile, and falters as Bruce approaches. The weight in his gut keeps him from igniting the fuse, from pressing the button. And he curses at himself, you had one job. You came back for one fucking reason, and you can't even do that.

He crosses paths with the Bat after antagonising him from the shadows. Bruce beats him, but what hurts the most is the helmet shattering. His eye is exposed to the cold Gotham air, exposed to the malicious stare of the man before him. He blinks it away and lifts the helmet.

The confrontation goes exactly as you would expect.

After a long time, he is welcomed back. There are more, now. Child soldiers. They're friendly, though wary. Though he was once the happiest of them, his new reputation precedes him. Violent, angry.

He's not angry. He's hurt. Always has been.

[boundbyeclipse]

hiii can you write smut number 5 with current James????

black velvet

genre : smut

word count : 1227

tags : current!james, female!reader, age difference (not specified how much), reader is a tattoo artist, a little rough james, semi-public sex (i think?), that’s about it

from the prompt list : 5. “don’t cover your mouth. i wanna hear you”

a/n : sooo i saw a photo of James getting a tattoo done and i thought hey, that’s a perfect idea for one of my requests! it really stuck to me and i had to write it. i really hope you enjoy this one x

‘Poison’ by Alice Cooper played in the background after you returned from your dinner break at work. You hummed along to the lyrics while lightly bopping your head to the beat. You absolutely loved rock and metal, so the playlist used at work always consisted of bands who did exactly those genres. It always gave you motivation and boosts for some energy, no matter if you were sad, angry or irritated.

While preparing for your next client, the sound of the entrance door opening and closing reached your ears. Technically, it was just a bit too early to show up, but hey, this one’s a regular and you didn’t mind at all.

“Hey there” you greeted him while putting some black gloves on your hands.

“Hey. Mind me showing up before I should?”

You gave him a warm smile, shaking your head left to right.

“Nope. You can come take a seat actually, I’ll go print out the tattoo and get more ink”

“Alright” James smiled back, hanging his jacket on the rack and making his way to the big, comfortable leather chair. He watched you walking around and you didn’t quite pay any attention to him, at least at first. Or, you just didn’t want to.

No matter how many times you’ve done tattoos on this man in the past few years, there has always been some sort of a tension between you both. It wasn’t anything like what you’ve had before with other men. They might have complimented you, made you smile, even blush, but none of them put you in such a vulnerable position with their presence alone. And there have been many times where his eyes would pierce right through you in the middle of getting his skin drawn on, creating the impression of him wanting to do some things to you. The lust was purely emitting from him the whole time. And you cannot forget about those moments when his fingertips would brush against your skin, making you shiver and think of scenarios in your head that were not so innocent. Sure, he was much older than you, but that didn’t stop either of you from craving each other every time.

Not too long after, you were already seated next to James, with his hand extended out as you were drawing lines on his skin.

My, oh my, did those large hands of his drove you insane.

“You got any more people coming after me?” he suddenly asked, his blue eyes hinting at something.

“Nope, you are the last one today. Puts my mind at ease knowing my last client is a regular. No need to overthink”

One side of his mouth curved up into a small smirk.

“Are you sure your mind is at ease? Because I can feel you’re all tensed up”

You swallowed and bit your lower lip hard after he said that. Trying to hide your growing frustration, you giggled.

“Maybe I am, I’ve been here since seven in the morning, you know”

He cocked an eyebrow up, not quite believing what you were saying. James could clearly see how you bit your lip, adjusted in your seat and giggled due to getting thrown back by his comment.

“It’s kind of easy to tell that it’s not because of the work. You don’t need to hide it”

Your breath hitched in your throat, and your body froze for a moment before you looked up at him and asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I know you secretly think about all the possible ways I could use my hands on you,” you could not believe what he just said, but it was totally true, “it’s written all over your face. Even your body language gives it away with how you shake, squirm in your seat, how you breathe heavier when I’m around. I know you think of me”

“James, don’t-“

“Just finish the tattoo first, then you can explain yourself”

Not even ten minutes later, you had your body pinned against the door of your break room, with no way to escape the tall man who hovered over you. His hands roamed your body while he kissed your neck, sucking on the sensitive spots to make you even weaker. The way he held you by your hip against the door made you so vulnerable and so turned on, that you could not help but moan into the heated kiss.

With one swift move, James opened the door behind you and the both of you walked backwards, still all over each other until the back of your calves hit the lounge couch that was in the room. James helped you with taking your shirt off, leaving you in a black lace bra. You sat down and watched James from below, eyes full of desperation and need, looking right into his own. He removed his shirt and tossed it away, unbuckling his jeans and unzipping them, then hovering above you as he laid you down slowly, but with rough kisses and a tight grip on your waist.

Your hand reached into his jeans and you cupped him through the fabric of his underwear, giving it a couple squeezes as James groaned in response. He was big, thick and hard, and you could feel yourself getting so wet that it started to hurt. You really needed him.

With no clothes left on your bodies, he was now inside you, moving his hips as he watched your face, loving the way your eyes rolled back with each thrust. The way your back arched, your naked bodies touching against each other, it put you in such a trance. Every second of it - you just loved.

With your moans becoming louder, you felt a little embarrassed, and your hand found its way to your mouth to silence yourself. But James wasn’t going to let you hide.

“Don’t cover your mouth. I wanna hear you”

Carefully, he took your hand and now had both of your hands pinned above your head. Your moans filled the room as you wrapped your legs around his waist, wanting to feel every single inch of his length in you. Almost to the point where you could barely take it.

“I can’t- I can’t take it”

“Yes, you can. Just hang on for a little bit more for me, okay?”

You gave him a nod in response, eyes watery and lips parted as you breathed heavily, your high hitting you right then and there. It happened so quickly, that you could not even tell James that you were close.

Another moan slipped out of his mouth as you coated him in your juices, your walls pulsing whilst he was still inside you, able to feel everything.

“Almost there” he told you as he gave you his final thrusts before pulling out and cumming on your stomach. Both of you were panting, with small beads of sweat on your foreheads and hair all messed up. But as soon as you got your breathing back to normal, it was time to clean up and go home. Though, James just wasn’t quite keen on leaving you so soon.

“I’ll give you a ride back home, so don’t worry about taking a bus in this weather” he gave you a warm smile as he put his jacket on and waited for you at the entrance door.

[rustyelias]

Louis and photography

“Oh wrestling time to the ground, staring it into submission. Holding it your hand. I was there. This occurred.” - Louis

Louis uses two cameras during season two a rolleiflex and a lecia both were the go-to cameras for photographers of the time! Speaking of the time period! post-war Paris is my personal speciality when it comes to film photography!!!

I think it's pretty clear that Louis's photos are based on brassaï works, night photography in Paris was brassaï thing! Both his and Louis's photos show us things the night reveals to us whilst feeling mysterious and intimate. The photos of the young men who armand fed on afterwards feels very brassaï other then the vampire thing (another really cool post by someone on brassai and iwtv)

“Night does not show things, it suggests them. It disturbes and surprises us with its strangeness. It liberates forces within us which are dominated by our reason during the daytime” - brassaï

”Then you can get mindful about it. Ask yourself what brought them here. What brought you here. Is it coming together random?” - Louis

okay so in ep4 when Louis is talking with the art dealer the guy makes a big deal of Louis always shooting at night! and yeah as a night photographer myself it's hard to get right which I think we see in Louis photos!

“Do you know how many great shots I've taken, only to find out the lighting was insufficient” - Louis ep4. big mood!!!

night photography is very alluring in nature and takes so much time. Film make you slow down and think before clicking the shutter release but doing it at night takes even more time!! a vampire who literally has forever is taking night photos will always be incredible to me

Okay, I think I need to mention the humanist movement and how it links with Louis! Post war there was a massive increase in street photography which focused on more positive themes. Louis speaks very positively of the idea of Paris rebuilding itself at the beginning of the series and the progression to him taking street at night is super interesting to me! Because he really does sound like a humanist photographer like Willy Ronis or Robert Doisneau when he speaks to Claudia about Paris

“I don't know a suprise maybe. Something off. Like a hat that's to small for a head or someone realising they forgot to do something and they stop” - Louis

“To me, photography is the simultaneous recognition in a fraction of a second, of the significance of an event.” – Henri Cartier-Bresson

“It says paris is on the way back. give here a little time” -Louis

The vampire is watching humanity from close up, close enough to capture it but far enough away to always feel on the edge of it all. I also really like how Louis is clearly annoyed in ep4 about the fact he has to shoot at night! he doesn't want to sit around waiting for the decisive moment or meter the lighting which is so relatable!!!

[woobiedoovo]

AYO DO Urm... have any more thoughts about erm ,....... pregnant stan . hehe .. -journal420

Hello Journal420!!! Yes, I have many more thoughts about pregnant Stan.

So, Stan honestly really enjoys being pregnant. Mainly because of how much Ford panders to him during the time. He mentions how his feet hurt, Ford is already peeling off Stan’s shoes to give him a foot massage. Stan mentions a craving he has at 3 a.m. ? Ford is marching to the nearest convenience store, eager to get Stan whatever he needed.

Of course there are plenty of things Stan doesn’t enjoy. His weight, something he’s always been insecure about, has skyrocketed. It makes sense, of course. It happens when you’re pregnant, but no matter how many times Ford explains to Stan that it’s completely natural and it’s actually healthy, Stan feels embarrassed by it. Ford on the other hand LOVES Stan’s weight gain. His love for big hairy men is something the Stancest community talks about all the time and I heavily subscribe to that belief.

Ford thinks Stan looks absolutely beautiful. His skin is glowing, he looks happier and happier everytime the babies move, and Ford just can’t help but fall a little more in love with Stan everytime he goes on a rant about how pricey baby supplies are.

When the twins are born, Stan and Ford are over the moon. Stan is crying, Ford is crying, the babies are crying, everyone is crying.

They name them Evangeline (Ford’s pick) and Elodie (Stan’s pick). Then they all live happily ever after!

(This is making me think about Stan having to breast feed… 👀)

Now I know what all of you were REALLY waiting, so here’s some kinky stuff :)

Ford 100% has a breeding kink. This is his dream scenario come true, and he lets Stan know that every time they have sex. Which is a lot more often now that Stan is pregnant because his hormones are going wild.

(Ford is just always horny for Stan, so it’s a win/win situation for him!)

He refers to himself as “Daddy,” and Stan as “Mommy,” much to Stan’s displeasure. But it’s hard to complain when you’re being fucked within an inch of your life by your horndog brother.

Stan is able to completely embrace his pillow princess behavior and just lay down and take it.

While Ford is rutting into him like a madman, Stan gets to lay on his back, hips supported with pillows, and enjoy the ride.

Ford makes it his mission to get Stan to see how beautiful he is, so he makes Stan repeat compliments to himself.

“Say how handsome you look, Stanley.”

“Aw, come on Sixer. Let’s not do this right now.”

“Say it Stanley.”

“I look… handsome, I guess.”

“Don’t worry Lee, I’ll just make you say it again until you believe it.”

If Stan’s not crying then Ford isn’t done. He needs his gruff baby brother overwhelmed with love to the point of tears.

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Reunion - Friends

Masterlist

Pairing: Dick Grayson x (f)reader

Tags: SFW, platonic, friends, jealousy, feelings, blood, death, crime, guilt

It's been a week since your embarrassing parting with Dick. Since then, you threw yourself into your work and studies. It was difficult to rip yourself away at first, but the longer you kept at it, the easier the routine became. Each day became structured, starting with the gym, then classes, studying, and your internship. On top of that, you and your friends always had something planned for weekends or evenings, so you were seldom bored as you were kept plenty busy.

The routine drew you back to your old self, the one that was comfortable and wasn't concerned about the intentions or treatments of some man. It felt great!

Today, you were attending your first jury duty selection. You fixed the collar of your blouse and flattened your palms down your blazer, then skirt, taking one last look in the mirror before exiting the bathroom. You were still going over the transcripts of your case as you made your way to the courtroom, not careful of where you were going. As a result, you bumped into a hard wall of muscle. "Mph!" You blinked a couple of times, adjusting to your surroundings. "Sorry!"

Said wall turned around to face you. He wore a brown leather jacket over a black t-shirt, with his detective badge tucked on the side of his belt. And he smelled like old spice, all six feet three inches of him. Your friend Tony smirked down at you. "Sup dude?"

He started law school with you and then transfered to the police academy when he decided he wanted a more "hands on" approach to fighting crime.

You grinned up at him brightly, opening your mouth, ready to greet an old friend. But then you remembered where you were and composed your festures quickly. "Good morning, Detective Ericso-"

"Oh, don't give me that shit." Tony groaned before puling you into a bear hug. "I'm off duty. Plus, I'm still a cadet."

"Well," you looked down at your now disheveled outfit. "I'm not off duty. So I have to be Profesional." Then you smiled excitedly. "I have my first jury duty selection today."

"No shit." He snapped his fingers in an exaggerated way. "Look at you, miss lawyer!"

"I know," you channeled Monica from friends as you couldn't help but grin at him. He was always a ball of energy.

"Listen, a couple of friends are meeting at Richmond's tonight for a beer. Come with us." He said.

"I..." you began to think of your plans in the evening and came up short. "Okay, I'm free. What time."

He rolled his eyes. "Around eight. And as if you had any plans to begin with, you studious loser."

You raised your arm to smack his, but then you made eye contact with an important looking man in a suit and lowered it again. "Eight. That's when i finish my day. I'll see you there! I gotta go now."

"You better!" You heard him say as you opened the door and stepped into the courtroom.

The couple of friends Tony had mentioned turned out to be two young cadets and Dick grayson.

You froze for a mere second when you walked in through the familiar doors of the bar. It was odd, yiu realized. You expected to feel a pang of something upon seeing him, but... you felt something mild. It was not pain, just... acknowledgement. Tony spotted you and waved you over. When Dick followed his friends' gaze to you, he offered you a shy smile. Surprisingly, you were very comfortable offering him one back.

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Dick smiled suggestively at you, tilting his head in the direction of the bar. "That guys been eyeing you since we sat down."

You, along with the rest of the table, turned to see who he was talking about.

At the bar, facing your table, a group of young men in suits sat drinking beers. Finance guys, by the looks of them. Not exactly the Bruce Wayne high fashion enterage, but they could have been consultants for a big firm. One of them - a cute blond with gelled hair - saught your gaze and gave you a small nod before raising his bottle to his lips. The gesture made you smile back before turning back to the group. "He's cute."

"Go talk to him." One of the other cadets, Anna, gave you a light nudge.

"Nahh." Dick drawled, leaning back in his seat. "She doesn't have to. The guy's making his way over here right now."

And surely enough, a moment later, the blond suit showed up to your table, clearing his throat. You looked up and met his gaze.

"Is this seat taken?" He asked you, glancing to the open chair beside you.

You shook your head.

"Lucky me." The blond grinned a charming grin and sat down beside you. He had a gorgeous pair of green eyes, a chiseled jaw peppered in a three day stubble and beautiful full lips that seemed really kissable. You looked down at your heart, wondering if you were really that much of a lightweight so as to be so affected by a man.

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Dick was happy.

He was happy you were comfortable around one another again. Happy your could talk to each other and laugh together. Most importantly, he was happy that you were happy. He watched you and the finance bro chat and laugh to each other, smiling at one another's jokes, exchanging contacts. Finance bro began to brush your knee with his fingers as his gaze became a little bit more heated.

You didn't seem to mind, Dick noticed. In fact, if the slight blush on your cheeks was any indication, you enjoyed the attention. You offered him a timid smile, biting down on your bottom lip.

Dick felt his smile falter.

Oh no.

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You laughed into your wineglass as your friend Tony reached to give Dick a light smack upside the head. Dick dodged at the last minute, and Tony missed.

"Dicky, how is it possible that after that many years on Earth you've never seen Harry Potter?!" Tony asked, incredulous.

Dick shook his index finger in return. "Na uh, you don't get to judge. You haven't seen Love, Actually -"

You smiled to yourself. Of course Dick Grayson was a love, actually enjoyer. You pictured him watching the romcom and tearing up at the emotional scenes.

"Dear god!" Tony dropped his head into his hands. "Apples to oranges, man! Y/n, help me out here - oh yeah. I forgot you're busy being in love."

"You're so dramatic." You murmmered, looking at your phone. "I'm literally emailing my prof."

"Oh? A contender for finance, bro?" Dick raised his brow suggestively.

"Wouldn't you like to know." You smirked. "And 'finance bros' name is Eric."

Dick raised his hands in mock surrender for in truth. He really didn't care. He also didn't like that you called finance bro by his name. He was finance, bro. A faceless fuck. Not Eric, some guy whose name, personality and life you possibly knew.

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Dick was ready to knock Tony out if he mentioned finance boy one more time. He sat on your apartment floor, wearing an ugly Christmas sweater that you knitted him as his secret Santa.

Tony sat gleefully in his hanukah sweater that your friend got for him. He was positively drunk when he raised his half finished glass of beer and announced. "I have an announcement."

The rest of the people at your apartment went quiet, patiently waiting for Tony's next words.

The young man smiled, opened his mouth to speak, and let out a long burp. The room burst into groans and murrmers of disgust.

Dick was too busy receiving an emergency alert into his earpiece.

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Dick arrived at the bank just as the day surrendered to the night. The sky above Gotham was tinged in dark blue as the bank’s alarms blared into the street.

"I’m at the location, Oracle," he murmured into his comm.

"Roger that," Barbara’s voice came through. "Security cameras show several men in ski masks inside."

"Copy." he replied, scaling the building in silence. He scanned the scene through a window: two civilians - a mother clutching her child - and a bank teller stood cowering in the corner as the masked robbers rifled through drawers.

"Need any backup?" Tim’s voice cut in.

"Negative, Baby-bird. This’ll be quick," Dick replied, his voice steady. "Enjoy your Christmas eve."

"God, he's so sappy." His brother, Jason, groaned into the comm.

"Police are en route, Nightwing," Barbara updated.

"Thanks."

He took out his batons and moved into action, precise and controlled. This was second nature - an exercise he could do in his sleep. Within moments, he had incapacitated the leader and taken down the four remaining men, who barely had a chance to react. In under a minute, every robber was either knocked out or tied up. Just as Oracle said, the police cars pulled up a moment later. Armed officers running into the bank, followed by a stoic commissioner Gordon walking in.

"Oracle, any more assailants?" Nightwing asked, breathing a little harder as he led the mother and teller toward the exit, carrying the giggling child in his arms. The little boy poked his chubby finger against Dick’s cheek, and despite the situation, Dick found himself smiling, cooing gently to reassure him.

Then, a gunshot shattered the air. Dick froze, his heart plummeting as a horrible, familiar dread took over.

"No!" he gasped, handing the child back to his mother before sprinting toward the sound.

As he rounded the corner, he saw it: one of the police officers lay in a spreading pool of blood, a discarded gun a foot away from a handcuffed robber. The scene played out, each detail sinking deep into his mind. He couldn’t look away. But... how? He's either tied or knocked all of them out!

He stumbled to Commissioner Gordon, who was kneeling beside the officer, hands trembling slightly as he took in the fatal wound.

"Is he…" Dick’s voice caught.

Gordon stood, his expression etched with grief. Slowly, he removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, drawing in a heavy breath. "He’s gone, son."

The weight of those words felt like a punch to the gut, hollowing Dick out from the inside. This was what he fought against, what he trained his entire life to prevent - and tonight, he had failed. Despite every life he’d saved, it hadn’t been enough.

Hours later, Dick trudged back to his apartment, feeling like a ghost. The image of the fallen officer haunted him, replaying every step of the night until it blurred with exhaustion and guilt.

As he opened his fridge and reached for a beer, Batman’s voice came through his comm, quiet and firm. "Nightwing. What happened tonight wasn’t your fault."

"Yes, sir," he replied, swallowing against the lump in his throat, the words barely audible.

“Dick… I've gone over your body cam. You did a good job incapacitating them. It was just bad luck." Bruce’s voice softened.

"I know," he whispered, his grip on the bottle tightening.

A heavy silence hung between them before Bruce added, “Get some rest.”

The comm went silent, and Dick felt something inside him finally break. The weight of his grief, the frustration, the helplessness - all of it spilled over as he sank to the floor, alone in the dark, and let himself cry.

[anxiousnerdwritings]

All of Himbo! Baratheon's brothers being overprotective when he gets into a relationship with someone.

Renly would be the absolute worst out of the three. He’d be a literal menace. He would by no means hide any disdain or disgust he harbors for whoever comes into his brother’s life as a romantic figure, whether through an arranged betrothal or as someone his beloved brother has taken a genuine interest in. It wouldn’t even matter the status or gender of the person, Renly (especially young!Renly) would be ready to throw hands with whoever. And if he can’t necessarily physically fight them then you can bet he’ll read them to absolute filth whenever given the chance. He would be the epitome of a brat, throwing utter tantrum after tantrum when the Reader’s attention or time isn’t dedicated to him anymore. He’s not use to not being the center of his favorite brother’s world anymore. Or at least not being able to turn the Reader’s attention on to him whenever he wanted. To say Renly is overly dramatic about the whole thing is a complete understatement, both as a kid and as an adult. This would literally be his villain origin story and you couldn’t tell me otherwise.

Stannis is the most level-headed out of the three. He knew it was bound to happen. He knew it was inevitable. If it was a betrothal then he either already had knowledge of it or he had a say in making the decision. Either way, Stannis isn’t surprised or caught off guard. Even if Himbo!Baratheon!Reader were to just turn up one day, hand in hand with someone, having already gotten married on a whim; Stannis wouldn’t even bat an eye. What would make him bat an eye would be who exactly he brought home. Like, I could see Himbo!Baratheon!Reader drunkenly walking into the room hand in hand with fucking Rhaegar Targaryen (literally “we were drunk and thought it would be funny” only Rhaegar wouldn’t have been nearly as drunk as Himbo!Reader and totally used this as an excuse to marry his dude crush) or someone just completely out of the box. It wouldn’t even really bother Stannis too much that they’re both men or that one of them is THE prince/soon to be king (Stannis knows damn well his brother can pull whoever by merely existing, making whatever situation work out in his favor without even meaning to so he hasn’t much to worry about in that regard), but more so of the headache that’s going to become his new every day once Robert and Renly get word of their beloved brother’s new spouse (whether it be Rhaegar or someone else).

Robert would be adamant about being his beloved brother’s wingman from the very beginning but really he has no plans of helping his brother whatsoever. On the contrary he’s there to ensure nothing works out for the offending party trying to take his brother away from him. Robert has no real problem with his brother whoring around similar to himself because it doesn’t mean anything in Roberts mind but when it comes to actual marriage and settling down then Robert’s gonna have a big issue with it. He knows damn well that Himbo!Baratheon!Reader will the most fantastic husband and father anyone could want but he doesn’t want to lose his brother to anyone else. He can barely tolerate sharing his beloved brother with their other brothers as is, so of course he’ll lose his shit if someone else thinks they can just swoop in and try to wife up his precious brother. Not on his fucking watch.

[fiction-is-the-new-reality]

Pt 4: If only you knew

Old Friends and Tears

word count: 2k

warnings: major violence, adult language, and angst

It feels like you can’t stop driving away from the tunnel. Like you can’t put enough distance between it.

You keep thinking about Arkham Knight following you, which spurs you to drive faster and further. After making a loop around Miagani and ensuring that no one has followed you, you swiftly turn into an alley.

Switching off the bike, you take a few heavy breaths, calming your thumping heart. Your mind is still whirling from the fight.

You nearly jump out of your skin when a voice calls down to you.

“Almost didn’t recognize it was you.” Nightwing flips down into the alley. Stepping off your bike, you walk towards him, meeting him halfway. Dick opens his arms, and you lean in to hug him. He tightens his arms and slightly rocks you back and forth.

One of Dick’s many underappreciated talents is giving amazing hugs.

“Look at your fancy new suit. You’ve finally made it big.” He grabs your shoulders before pretending to wipe away a tear.

You playfully roll your eyes, “Always so dramatic. What are you doing here?”

He gasps and tosses a hand over his heart. “What? Not happy to see me?”

Giving him a deadpan look that he only laughs at, he finally tells you. “Bruce is looking into North Refrigeration, which is a job I’ve been working for months,” you interrupt in shock. “So he called you?”

“....Not directly. Alfred asked what I knew about North Refrigeration. He said Bruce was about to look into them. Figured he wouldn’t mind the extra hand.”

“Oh, so you invited yourself over, got it.”

Dick shakes his head before he gets serious.

“I heard about Barb. How are you holding up?”

“I’m just ready to have her back, even if I have to kick Scarecrow’s ass myself. What about you?”

“She can take care of herself. I’m surprised Scarecrow hasn’t thrown her back at us.” You both chuckle. You look at his eyes, which show unspoken fear. He’s worried about her, not like he’d ever say. The ever-persistent Nightwing, always the big brother, always calm.

“I know. I find it strange that Arkham Knight knew she was Oracle and, more importantly, where she was.” You sigh before continuing. “It makes me wonder if he’s been lurking and watching before all this.”

“You never know. It’s made it very clear that no matter how careful you are, there’s always a risk.”

Before you can respond, he presses his fingers on his earpiece. After a beat of silence, he speaks, “I gotta run. Bruce is waiting for me, but I’ll see you before I return to Bludhaven. I promise.”

“Call me if you need me!” You shout as he scales up the side of the building. Once he’s back on the rooftop, he waves goodbye before dashing away.

You roll the bike to the back of the alley and throw a black tarp over it, hoping it’ll blend in with the shadows. You decide to go back to the rooftops for a while. It’s easier to keep watch when no one hears you coming.

Getting up to the roof the same way Dick did, you walk to the opposite side and look out over the roads. You watch as groups of men run around beating each other, tipping over trash cans, and occasionally almost getting hit by cars.

Nearby, a piercing screech echoes out, making you wince. Startled by the unexpected sound, you quickly turn your head, scanning the area for any signs of movement. Your eyes land on a bird flying in the distance. You watch in sheer horror as the “bird” approaches. As it comes into focus, you realize it’s an enormous bat-like creature, and it is now barreling directly towards you.

“What the fuck!” You exclaim out loud, running towards the edge of the roof.

It gets to you before you can jump onto the street below. You crouch down, hands covering your head. It swoops overhead, and a piercing shriek fills the air, chilling you to the bone while the colossal wings whip chilled wind around you. The large beast lands on the street below, and men yell in panic, filling the air with their screams.

You stand there blinking momentarily, watching it move in a circle, screeching out what sounds like mournful cries. You take in the pale clammy skin, the white hollowed-out eyes, and the sharp teeth protruding from its mouth. As you think about your next move, it’s too late. The creature takes off into the sky again. The massive wings bring it toward your rooftop and you crouch low, bracing for its talons to cut you. Once again, you’re spared as it veers left at the last second. You begin running after it but aren’t fast enough to catch up. It rockets up into the sky and you lose sight as it flies behind the skyline.

“What the fuck?” You whispered.

On the other side of Gotham, the Arkham Knight enters a room where Oracle is being held. He leans against the doorway and watches her silently. Barbra glares back.

The silence is broken. “What the hell do you want?”

A robotic chuckle is let out. “Oh, Barbra, Barbra, Barbra. When did you become so rude?”

“Probably when someone manhandled me out of my home, got me thrown from a car, and locked me up in this room.”

“Hmm, yes, that was a bit rougher than I had intended. But honestly, you have Batman and that other birdy to thank for that.”

He stalks over to her and circles around the chair. She stays steady, showing no fear in the face of danger. A skill most will credit to Batman, but it’s a trait directly from her father.

She slightly jumps as his hand clamps down on her shoulder, and his helmet lets out an echoing hiss as he opens it. He tosses it on her lap. She glances down, wondering what he was doing.

“Don’t worry Babs. You’re just a pawn in this game, so as of right now, you’re safe.” Why did he sound so familiar? Why did she know that voice? Barbra racked her brain trying to figure out who that voice belonged to.

He walks around and her eyes land on his face, a gasp leaves her mouth. Her eyes must be playing a trick on her. Scarecrow must have injected her with fear toxin or gassed the room and she just didn’t realize it. That would be the only logical explanation as to why Jason is standing in front of her dressed as the man who has been terrorizing Gotham.

“Jason? H-How?” Her voice, barely above a whisper, is breathy with surprise.

“I know. Long time no see Babs.” He’s fully facing her now and she can see how the years have affected him.

His blue eyes, were bloodshot and sunken, with dark purple circles underneath. On his left cheek, a scarred letter J grabs her attention. And her eyes linger on it. She notices a recent scratch on his throat before he turns away from her.

“Jason! Why? Why are you doing this? How could you do this?” Her pain laces her voice. Tears glisten in her eyes, and confusion wrinkles her face.

“Like I said, you can thank Batman. Everything that has happened and that will happen is all because of him.” He walks towards the door.

“He mourned for you! We all did Jason.”

“Bullshit! It took all of about three months before I was replaced. Three months before I was forgotten! I was still alive while you guys were moving on!”

“We didn’t know, Jason. Please understand.”

Jason’s out the door before Barbra can say anything else. Once the door closes, she lets the tears fall out of her eyes.

Jason clicks his helmet back in place before entering the surveillance room. The monitors light up showing him the streets of Gotham. The Batmobile speeding after the tanks and the APC’s. A screen to the left side of the display catches his attention.

It’s Vulture. The one that escaped him. He watches as she take on a checkpoint with eight of his men inside it. His eyes tracked her every move, learning her fight patterns.

As Vulture knocked down a medic, one soldier holding two stun batons crept behind her, pressing the sparking stun batons against her back. Jason leans in as he watches her collapse to the floor. The three militiamen circle over her as she lies on the ground.

One bends down and once he’s close, she wraps her legs around his shoulders and springs her body upwards. They crash to the floor and Jason watches as the head of the militia bounces against the ground.

She stands, her hand reaching down to her waist, and pulls a small blade from her belt. It’s then hurled at the soldier with the batons, causing the baton in his right hand to slip out, dropping to the ground. With a leg sweep, Vulture disarms him, snatching the baton in a single fluid motion.

She swiftly turns to the other soldier and uses the baton to jab at his crotch, forcing him to drop to his knees. As he’s on his knees, she quickly flips to the other side of him, gaining some distance from the last soldier. She brings the baton down on the kneeling soldier’s neck, sending him sprawling face-first onto the ground.

Now she’s facing the last soldier. The soldier runs and grabs a wooden crate off the ground. He launches the crate towards Vulture, but she pulls the crate out of the air and to her chest. Using the wall for leverage, she launches herself into the air, smashing the box directly onto his head. He stumbles back, and her roundhouse kick connects with his chest, sending him sprawling onto the ground.

She stalks over to the unconscious head commander and smashes the communicator, making the checkpoint walls collapse.

Jason presses the comm in his ear.

Having let go of the communicator, you allow it to crash on the ground. A crackling noise comes from the commander’s earpiece, followed by the Knight’s voice.

“Don’t get too happy, birdy. I’m still seeing and hearing everything all over Gotham. Maybe I should be the new Oracle.”

Your blood runs cold.

You snatch the earpiece out of the commander’s ear and the Knight laughs on the other end. Pushing the button down on the comm, you respond.

“Maybe you should stop being such a coward and show your face. Or do you hide behind that mask because your face is too mangled?”

The laughter from the Knight is unlike the previous ones. It is not mocking you or sarcastic. It’s dark, and you can feel the hatred behind it. It sends a shiver down your spine.

“Just wait, this mangled mess will be the last thing you see with your dying breath.”

You waste no time leaving the scene.

The projectors around Gotham whirl to life. It’s a holding cell, and the camera zooms in on the person inside. It’s Barbra, slumped over in her wheelchair. Scarecrow’s scratchy voice comes through the speakers.

“How does it feel to see your city on the brink of ruin, your friends in the clutches of death?”

The screen distorts and then it’s Scarecrow’s face on the screen.

“You stretched yourself too far this time, Batman, and now your failure is all but complete. As that final, dying breath escapes her body, she will know you are the one who failed her.” The audio screeches out as the screen turns black.

You press down on your comm.

“Alfred, where is she being held?”

“Master Bruce said a safe house in Chinatown. He’s on his way now.”

Shit. You’re nowhere near Chinatown.

“Thanks, Alfred.”

You begin driving your bike as fast as you can, zipping around corners, and taking shortcuts through the infrastructure of Gotham.

As you get to the middle of Chinatown, you stop the bike and grapple to the nearest building. Listening closely for anything that will point you in the right direction.

Closing your eyes, you try as hard as you can. A minute of stillness passes, and then, like a whisper on the wind, you hear it. The distant, muffled thuds of gunshots punctuated Scarecrow’s voice, raspy and echoing. Your legs start running before you even realize it, your heart pounding in your chest as fear takes over. With a rush of wind in your ears, you leap from the rooftop to the next, landing softly in front of a heavy wooden door.

You’re about to open it when Bruce comes out. Without Barbra.

“Where is she? Was it a trap? Is she somewhere else?”

His blue eyes lock on yours. You can see the pain in them. His jaw tightens.

“No, no, no, Bruce.” You’re pacing back and forth.

“I was too late. Scarecrow he….was punishing me. He killed her.” Voice heavy with guilt.

“You’re lying! She’s in there.” You need to get into the building. You need to see that she’s fine and that she’s not really in there. Heading for the door, Batman blocks you.

“No, I’m not letting you in there.”

“You don’t give me orders! I-I need to see Barbra.”

He speaks your name softly. “She’s gone.”

You turn your back on him, taking a few steps away. Bruce does the same.

You dodge Bruce with a quick movement, adrenaline surging through you, your eyes fixed on the door as you sprint towards it. His arms reach out and grab you, pulling you into his chest and lifting you off the ground, like a child throwing a tantrum. You thrash in his arms, your movements frantic, as you try to break free from his hold. His grip on you becomes a vise-like clamp, his muscles tightening as he pulls away from the door.

“Stop it, Bruce! Let me go! It’s Barbra, Bruce, it’s Barbra, please!”

“You don’t need to see. It won’t change anything.” He holds you until you’ve calmed down.

Bruce, let’s go, setting you on your feet. Your shoulders sag and you look at the ground.

“I’m headed to GCPD to talk to Ivy. She was immune to the fear toxin.”

“You’re hoping she’ll help against the Cloudburst?” Your voice sounds small, even to your ears.

“She doesn’t have a choice.”

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[chet-ho7mgren]

Please (and I cannot stress this enough) put a baby in me 🫠

[buckevantommy]

is it a terrible thing that I want to shake Lou's hand or put my hand against Lou's just to compare the size and be like wow, also to just say to him that he's more than his appearance.

you’ve cracked it. meanwhile you internally combust at how much his hand envelops yours. 

[kenisle]

are there any fics about the existential/body horror and everyday idiosyncrasies of being wolverine — indestructible heavy metal skeleton, knife hands, healing factor, amnesia, and eternally chained to this mortal plane cursed to watch everyone around you age and die except this one really weird guy you can’t fucking stand who also happens to be from canada — with maybe a dash of homoeroticism? or at least just minimal heterosexuality? is that too tall an order?