#What could be better than working with those two?

[very-merry-birthday]

Gluttony

Lust Gluttony Envy Sloth Greed Pride Wrath

Summary: You help the brothers out of tricky situation, and Dean thanks you the best way he knows how.

Warnings: Smut (car sex, overstimulation, multiple orgasms)

A/N: Yes, this has been a seven deadly sins series all along!

You picked at your fries lazily as you relaxed against the grimy booth of the diner, watching the place carefully. You'd been following the same man for two days after a string of murders had landed you in a town not far from home. You saw as he began to stand up, making his way to leave.

Your phone began to buzz in your pocket, a number you didn't recognize. Normally you wouldn't answer calls like that, but you were waiting for some information, and wanted to end this hunt as quickly as possible.

"This is a prepaid call from "Hey Sweetheart", at the Washington County correctional facility, all phone calls are subject to recording and monitoring, to accept this call press one now."

You could instantly tell it was Dean, his voice just as deep over the phone as in person. You pressed #1 as you wedged your phone between your ear and your shoulder, standing to follow the man as you gathered up your belongings.

"Hey darlin', you picked up!" He seemed almost surprised on the other end, but kept his cool.

"What's going on, I'm in a rush." You pushed the door open, following him from a distance.

"Awe- I just thought a booty call might be fun right now?" His voice was laced in sarcasm.

"I'm being serious, Dean, what do you need?"

He sucked his breath in through his teeth, "Ya see sweetheart, we might have found ourselves in a bit of trouble over here and... well we need someone to come bail us out."

"I'm busy..." You sighed, finally grabbing the phone again in your hand.

"We'll see you soon!"

The line clicked, going dead as he hung up. You wanted to leave him there, teach him a lesson, but you knew you just had to see him. You looked over at the man walking away, letting out a deep sigh before turning on your heel, returning the way you came.

-

You pulled up around the corner from the tiny jail- more just a police station- checking your face again in the mirror before climbing out of the car, your heels clicking against the sidewalk. It wasn't often that you dressed professionally, the tight button up and skirt feeling claustrophobic against your body, but you knew it would work far better than your usual jeans and flannels.

You made your way in, the afternoon just starting to break into evening as a chill hit the air, and walked to the front desk, a young cop on the other side barely making note of you.

"I'm here for the brothers."

"You posting bail or you their lawyer?" He didn't look up from the screen in front of him.

"Their lawyer."

He nodded, "Take a seat, someone will come get you in a minute."

You did as he said, sitting down as you took in the room. You swallowed hard, you lied for a living, that bit was easy, but having to see Dean after three months without him- that would be slightly harder.

After what felt like too long you saw a cop approaching you, reaching out his hand to shake it, "You here for those boys?"

He was an older guy, barely any hair left on his head, a small coffee stain on his shirt that looked fresh. You weighed up your approach in your mind. Seductive felt odd, this guy was old enough to be your father, possibly even grandfather, and he wasn't trying to hide it. Relentless seemed wrong too, he clearly had a knowledge of the job and you knew clamping down on him would only cause him to fight back. So instead you stood, shaking his hand with a warm smile spread across your face. The friendly approach.

"I am indeed, sir."

"Names Officer Branning, I'm gonna get you to follow me."

He led you down a series of florescent flooded hallways until you were stood outside and interrogation room. You'd seen your fair few before, but normally you were in the same position as the boys. The officer pushed open the door and Dean looked up, his eyes widening in surprise as he saw you walk in.

"You should've told us you called your lawyer, son." The officer moved to sit opposite him, taking a sip of his coffee.

You saw Sam shift in his seat, looking between you and his brother, clearly confused.

"And can I ask what exactly my clients have been arrested for?" You took your own seat next to Dean, you could tell he was still gawking at you out of the corner of your eye.

"Well your boys here have been convicted of section A1 of the Burglary Statute. A house downtown, we get a phone call about suspicious activity and who do we find when we turn up, these two, both in possession of guns, which I don't have to tell you is of course a felony."

You turned to look at them properly for the first time, both of them shifting awkwardly in their seats. You knew that Sam would have already tried every trick in the lawyer book- and at least he had the Harvard experience compared to your Breaking Bad and Law and Order qualifications. He turned back towards the officer, not wanting to seem suspicious. Dean, however, couldn't care less, his eyes raking your body.

He'd never seen you dressed like this: all office siren, your hair pulled back, heels on. He had to admit he liked it, almost as much as he enjoyed you in your hunting gear, covered in grime and blood and sweat... Almost.

You turned back away, his gaze sending heat to the back of your neck. The officer looked behind the three of you, another sip of coffee, he was clearly already checked out for the day, his eyes on the clock above your heads. Sam might have the knowledge, the actual lawyer skills, but you were starting to think your pop culture education might be more likely to get you all out of here.

"Look I'm not gonna sit here and say these two men haven't been foolish, of course they have." You glanced over at them, Sam's eyes going wider, Dean clearly not listening as he watched the way your lips moved, "Entering a dwelling that doesn't belong to them, sure, that looks bad, I'm not denying that. But I do think it's important to note that they didn't use their guns, no one here got hurt, right? And is that not the most important thing?"

The officer nodded slowly. Sam looked between you and him, unable to understand how this actually seemed to be working.

"No one killed, no one injured, gosh not even a paper cut! Secondly, burglary, sir-" you chuckled lightly, "Do you have any proof of that? That they were actually intending to steal anything? Do we even have proof that they broke into the property? As far as I can tell these idiots most likely walked into a house that didn't belong to them, merely out of confusion!"

"I'm not sure-"

"Officer Branning, was it?" You smiled at him warmly, trying to put forth your least threatening expression, "You and I both know the perils of this system. A day in court, those uncomfortable seats they'll make you sit in as you wait to speak, only for what, all of five minutes!?"

He chuckled lightly at your apparent exasperation, "Less than that!"

"Less! A whole day wasted just because these two idjits don't know their own address! And I'm sure the jury will see that- just look at them they couldn't organize a back yard grill let alone a burglary!"

Sam put on his best puppy dog pout and Dean grinned from ear to ear as the officer looked at them both.

"I really don't want to waste your time, and I don't think you want to waste mine either. These are good boys, good god-fearing folk, they've just made a mistake. Surely a slap on the wrist and we can both go home happy?"

"These boys committed a crime-" he looked above your head again, eyeing the clock.

"Who've you got at home, Officer Branning?" You leant back in your seat, smiling at him.

"I'm not sure how that's important?" He questioned, his face flushing with confusion.

"You keep looking at the clock, sir, you got someone worth rushing off for?"

He smiled back, looking down at his coffee, "My wife. It's our anniversary, I was supposed to be home three hours ago but got stuck sat with these two-"

"How many years?" You leant forward. Dean eyed you carefully. He liked seeing you confident like this. He thought back to the last time he'd seen you, the church, your mouth pressed against his ear speaking sin. You'd finished that hunt only a few days later, Sam finally relenting in the knowledge there was no way he'd be able to keep you apart. But that was three months ago, and he hadn't expected to see you this soon. And yet, looking a you now, he realized just how much he'd missed you. He watched as your mouth curled into another warm smile. It made his stomach flip as he tried to suppress the thought.

"Forty-four." He sighed, taking another sip of coffee, "Feels like yesterday we got married, not that I'd ever tell her that."

You reached out to his hand, holding it gently, "Officer, I know it's been a real long day, and I'd hate for it to become an even longer night. I'm sure she deserves you home by now?"

He swallowed hard, looking between the three of you. "What the hell, fine!"

Sam almost fell out of his seat in shock. Dean had to hold himself back from kissing you there and then.

--

Dean's arm was wrapped around your waist before you'd even left the station. You knew he didn't care about who saw, but you also knew you had to get out of there before anyone stopped you.

You all skipped out, keeping your heads down, a smile plastered on all of your faces. Once you were far enough away Dean finally broke, loud laughter coming from his lips.

Sam shook his head with a smirk, "How the hell did you manage that?"

Dean pulled you in closer, lazily kissing your shoulder as you and Sam spoke.

"What, Harvard boy can't understand what an expert lawyer looks like?" You laughed. You knew ignoring Dean's advances was only riling him up more.

"Thought you were only coming to bail us out?" Sam shook his head again.

"If you think I'm spending a dime on you two you're more stupid than I thought." You started to walk back to your car, "Come on, both of you, let me give you a lift."

Dean broke away from you, looking over to his brother, "Go for a walk, Sam."

"Dean it's-"

"Go for a walk." His face turned stern.

Sam rolled his eyes, giving you another baffled smirk before walking away again, his hands sliding into his pockets. Dean pulled you into him again, his mouth attacking your neck. You dragged him towards your car, your hand combing through his hair.

You lifted his face up to look at you as you pouted, "That was mean..."

"He knew the deal the second you walked in wearing that get up." His hand reached down to your ass, inelegantly squeezing it.

"You still shouldn't leave him out in the cold like this."

"Be quiet sweetheart," he kissed you jaw heavily, "just let me show you how thankful I am."

He pushed you against the side of your car, his hands wandering over your body as you scrambled for your keys. You broke your face away from him for a moment as you put your key in the lock, your eyes looking into your own car through the window.

You hadn't really thought about the fact he'd be here, climbing into your car. Even if his mouth wasn't fixed to your neck, you'd still offered him a lift, he'd have seen it one way or another, but it still felt weirdly intimate. Car sex- that was normal. More normal for you two than sex in a bed. But it was always the Impala, a car you had to admit oozed seduction. It had space to move around, to stretch out on the plush vinyl seats. Your car was small, beaten up, only just big enough for you to sleep in on cold nights when all the motels were full. And yet here you were, welcoming him into a space normally reserved only for you.

He didn't seem to care, though, as he guided you into the back seat, pressing himself against your body as he moved to lay above you. You shifted awkwardly, trying to fit your bodies into the small space, a blanket stuffed under your back, old takeout containers on the floor next to you.

He kisses your neck, grazing it with his teeth as you softened into the shape of his body. He tugged at your clothes, his hand sliding up your thigh, pushing your skirt up to your hips. You were suddenly very thankful for the dark descending outside.

You pushed your body up slightly as he continued his movements down, his fingers finally pressing against the middle of your underwear, "Tsk- thought I'd get another pleasant surprise."

He gently circled your clit through the fabric, sending gentle warmth through you, "I got you out of there, didn't I?"

He smiled, "Oh yeah, I was showing my gratitude wasn't I?" He kissed the inside of your thigh, "What's our record, sweetheart?"

"Three..."

He shook his head with a smile.

This had long been a point of contention between you. He insisted that since he'd been able to make you come five times in one day, your record should be five. You contended that since you'd split between a session first thing in the morning and another one in the evening, where he'd made you come three times, your record should be three. Of course, he'd also promised you if he had a full day, and an actual bed, he'd make you come so many times you would pass out.

But he wasn't in the mood to argue.

He hooked his fingers around the sides of your underwear, dragging it down your legs as he sucked in a sharp breath, eyes fixed on you.

He pressed his tongue against your clit without any warning, your hand reaching out to grab hold of his hair as you steadied your breathing.

"Fuck darlin, you always taste incredible."

He spit hard, using his saliva as lube as he dove back in, his tongue lapping you up. You rolled your hips into him, needy for his friction. No one knew you quite like him, knew just where to touch you to bring you to the brink.

He pressed his mouth against you, alternating between pushing his tongue inside you and circling your clit in a steady rhythm. You could barely breath as you felt his tongue glide through your folds, savouring your wetness, his mouth curling into an amused smile as he listened to your gasps.

Right when he felt you tensing up he focused all his attention onto your clit, sending you over the edge as you gripped onto his hair, rolling your head back in a pornographic moan. He kept his movements quick as you came, your body shaking as he kept up the stimulation.

Your body sunk back against the seat, your head pressed against the inside of your cardoor as you tried to shed the pounding in your ears. He pulled away, kissing along your leg.

"You got a pen anywhere in here sweetheart?" He looked around, you were suddenly aware once again of the state of your car.

You leant down, rustling your hand on the floor without looking until you landed on the marker you knew you'd left there, handing it to him.

He held the lid between his teeth, popping it open and drawing a short line on your inner thigh, "That's one."

You bit your lip as you looked down at him marking your skin, taking you as his own.

He began to kiss up your leg again, making his way back towards your core.

You let your hand comb through his sweat ridden hair, breathing hard, "Just give me a minute, yeah?"

"What, and ruin this gorgeous high you've got going on? No chance, darlin'." He pressed his tongue against you again, slower this time, gently stroking it through your wetness.

You groaned, rolling your head back as he sucked lightly at your swollen clit. He knew how sensitive you got after you came, and he fully intended to use it to his advantage.

He teased the tip of his finger at your entrance, feeling as your pussy pulsed around him. He moaned against you, sending the vibrations through your body. Pushing his finger into you, you bit your bottom lip again, swallowing down any other noises.

He began thrusting into you slowly, even one finger filling you as his tongue sped up its movements. You arched your back into him, a second orgasm rising quickly. He pushed another finger into you, stretching you out, your breath shaking as you shut your eyes again.

He sucked on your clit again, pushing another desperate wave of pleasure through you. You reached out, seeking stability on the seats around you as you felt your body clench again. And then release. He slowed his movements, only just, as you came again on his tongue, your legs tightening up around him.

"Dean- fuck-" you couldn't stop your sounds, your body quaking.

You guided his face away from you as you let your body relax again into the seat, his movements almost to much to bare as he gently pulled his fingers out of you, sticking them in his mouth to continue savouring your taste.

Without a word, he reached down for the marker he'd thrown to one side, wetting his lips as he drew another line next to the first, "That's two."

He went to press his mouth against you again but you stopped him, cupping his cheek to get him to look at you, "Really, baby, can't take much more."

Baby wasn't a nickname you used. Not for him, not ever. But as your mind stayed fogged from your pleasure you didn't even realize you'd said it. And he didn't mind- his face tingling with secret enjoyment.

He lifted himself off of you, pushing the marker behind his ear as he moved quickly, his hands wrapping around your waist as he moved to sit, pulling you on top of him in a straddle. You slumped against him, your body exhausted, your forehead pressed against his.

"We'll never break our record with that attitude, sweetheart."

"It's just your tongue, Dean, i's'too much-" you kissed him lightly, his lips plump against yours.

"Well why don't we go at your pace then, darlin'?" He held your hips, lowering you down onto his leg. You bit your lip as you felt you pussy come into contact with the jeans on his thigh, rough against your sensitive bundle of nerves.

He pushed your hips gently, getting you to rut against him. You held his shoulders to keep yourself steady as you began moving, harsh pleasure hitting you instantly.

"Dean- fuck- it's too-"

He kissed you, his thumbs rubbing small circles into your hips, "That's it, nice and slow, keep yourself steady for me."

You focused on his voice as he guided you through it, grinding against his thigh with your breath held.

"Good girl, that's it." He moved one hand to your stomach, commanding your movements, "You're doing so well for me, darlin', that feel good?"

You collapsed your body into him, your head leaning against his shoulder, "Oomf- fuck- yes-"

"Good girl, good girl, keep moving, keep your pussy on me. Fuck- I can feel how wet you are even through my jeans-" he chuckled lightly, kissing the top of your head, "You look so good grinding on me- gonna get you to do this every time if you're not careful."

You gripped your hand around his bicep, your fingers pressed into him as you felt another orgasm rising inside you.

"Keep yourself steady, sweetheart- focus on your body. You feel that? Feel that sweet spot- you're screaming out for more, I can tell- let it fill you up, that excess, darlin', let it consume you. Keep moving, there's a good girl, you want to come again, don't y'? You wanna come on my thigh?"

You nodded into his shoulder, a small whimper falling out of your lips in desperation.

"Be a good girl for me, sweetheart, be good." He spoke softer as he pressed his lips against your skin, "Come for me."

You did as he commanded, your body quaking as you rutted against him, your fingers digging into him, letting out a loud cry, another orgasm taking control as your body quaked. Your movements began to slow but he kept his hands tight on you, keeping your grinding steady as you rode it out.

He pressed his mouth into your neck, soft kisses as you lifted yourself off his thigh, straddling him properly again, your body still shaking slightly as you tried to come back to reality, blinking hard. He leant back, carefully checking your face for confirmation you were okay, before kissing you again.

He pushed you backwards slightly to give himself better access as he took the pen from behind his ear, once again pulling off it's cap with his teeth and placing it between your legs, drawing another small line, "That's three, darlin'."

"Jesus, Dean, you'll be the death of me!" You sighed, coming to your senses.

You looked down, watching as he carefully palmed the bulge growing in his pants, "You think you can take one more?"

You nodded slowly, however spent you felt, you still wanted his cock buried inside you.

You watched as he quickly undid his belt with one hand, pulling at the top of his pants as his other hand gripped your hip tight again. His cock sprung free, solid and throbbing, watching you come so many times already pushing him to the edge. He guided you above him, lining himself up with you, before gently lowering you down, his cock sinking into your already sensitive opening.

He held your hips still as he began to thrust into you from below, watching you carefully. He pressed his mouth into your neck, small kisses across your skin as you moaned into him, your body shaking with pleasure.

Once his pace was steady he began moving his hands over you, ghosting your curves with the pads of his fingers, gentle movements, his digits hot against you, sending soft tingles all over your body. He let one hand slide under your shirt, brushing over your breast, his thumb grazing your nipple only slightly.

"You feel so good, sweetheart." He sped up his thrusting, his own heartbeat stuck in his throat as he felt your pussy tight around him.

You began to roll your own hips in time with him, pushing him deeper until he was completely filling you, your sensitive clit colliding with him on every pound. You moved your hands to his chest, steadying yourself as you both moved, the small car filled with hot breath.

He groaned, desperate, his fingers dancing over your nipples, sending shivers through you. He swallowed hard, his eyes locked on yours, "You close?"

You bit your lip, nodding in response as you felt another orgasm rise in you, his cock stretching you out.

"That's it, keep going, wanna feel you coming on my cock, darlin'."

His words send another spike of pleasure through you as you continued to roll your hip, his thrusting from below only becoming harder. You screwed up your hands in the fabric of his shirt, the tension filling you once again. You couldn't focus on anything but your dam about to burst.

"Dean, I'm gonna-"

He pressed his lips against yours as you came, a moan escaping your lips flowing into his mouth as he pushed into you, hard, your pussy contracting around his cock. Stars danced behind your eyes as you continued to move your body, your climax skewering the coil in your stomach.

The moment he felt your movements falter, Dean pulled out, his own orgasm spilling out of him without warning, his cum plastering your thigh. He let out a groan as your hand reached down instinctively, stroking him through his completion, your thumb pressed against his tip.

You both sat panting, your bodies covered in sweat and each other, as your movements slowed, both of you twitching in relief. After a moment you rolled off of him, taking your seat next to him as you pulled your blanket up to wipe his cum off of your leg. He watched you carefully before reaching back out to you, pen in hand, and drawing the final tally mark on your leg.

"That's four, new record." He smiled at you, hooking his finger under your chin for a kiss.

You shook your head, smiling as your bliss started to slump again, "You shouldn't have called, Dean, I was busy..."

"Oh yeah, hot date?" He pushed his cock back into his pants, beginning to buckle them back up as he chuckled.

"Yeah, smoking hot, tall dark and handsome." You watched as his expression faltered slightly, doubt creeping in. "A murderous demon with an appetite for murder, what's not to love!"

He relaxed again, lowering his shoulders and swallowing hard.

You waited a beat before opening up your door again, climbing out as you pulled your skirt back down. He followed your lead, stepping out into the cold night air, trying to pull himself together as he watched you do the same. Both of you were messy, clearly sexed out, the pen tally, although now hidden, still burning into your thigh, a small patch on his jeans from where you'd ridden him.

You slid back into the driver's seat, letting him clamber into the passenger side, a position neither of you were used to when around each other.

"Come on," you sighed, "let's go find your brother."

"He'll've reached the motel by now, sweetheart, we weren't exactly quick." He eyed you carefully, "You hungry?"

"I could eat."

"Let's get burgers."

"What, just us?"

"C'mon sweetheart, my treat, give you a proper thank-you."

[pork-pop]

DON’T MAKE ME BEG FOR YOU!

✧ the girl of his dreams is throwing him a bone…is he feigning nonchalance or acting a fool?!

contains: gojo, geto, nanami || cw: p in v sex (unprotected), oral (f. receiving), like a hint of hair pulling for suguru, mentions of masturbation || wc: 1.7k~

✧ a/n: i am half asleep right now if there’s a typo just come to my home and take me out before i wake up! cheers. srry nanami’s ended up kinda shorter than the others oopsie daisy.

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI!!!

SATORU GOJO

acting a fool is an understatement

Satoru is terrible at the art of subtlety, and to most, making one’s intentions blatantly clear to the person they’re interested in might seem mortifying. But that’s been Satoru’s goal since the start. Those lingering touches, the flirtatious glances and suggestive comments were all done in stride, after all, he takes pride in the fact that he’s getting what he wants. You, however, have been the hardest shell to crack. So, naturally, he’s utterly whipped. 

He can hardly believe his luck when you choose to reciprocate after months of cat and mouse, and he has no choice but to lay out all of his chips and double down. 

For someone who was raised to be a gentleman, he sure does know how to get your clothes on the floor without any manners at all. As soon as you’re blessing him, deepening the kiss, his wandering hands are tugging at your blouse for permission to show you how much he’ll work for it. 

“Isn’t this a treat?” He pants humorously between thrusts, fucking into you like he’ll know he’ll find the answers to all of his intrusive questions regarding you if he just gets an inch or two deeper. Satoru hisses as you tighten around him, “You gonna keep talking or are you gonna fuck me harder?” you snicker. And you should know that there’s nothing Satoru loves more than a good challenge; getting you like this wasn’t the challenge he’d most anticipated, no, it was making you crave it just as much as he did. 

“Is that an invitation?” He asks, a big grin twisting at the corners of his lips while he inches a hand down to thumb teasingly at your clit, “You know, I’ve been thinking about you saying that for a while now, don’t you?” In spite of his stamina, Satoru’s breath is ragged and shaky, could it be that he was even a bit…nervous? You didn’t have the time to put much thought into it before his hips speed up, knocking every one of those pretty suspicions out of your head for the time being. Your eyes roll back and you swear you can hear a triumphant little huff of a laugh from him as he takes that as inspiration to roughen the circles he’s drawing against your clit. 

“I’ve been thinking about what you’d sound like when you cum, too,” he admits without a shred of shame, nosing into the tender column of your throat so you can hear him better, “Can I hear?” “Fuck!” Is all you can manage through a strangled cry, clawing at the shifting muscles of his back in a futile attempt to ground yourself. “C��mon, I can tell you’re getting close,” he rasps madly, “I wanna hear you.” He begs, suddenly licking a greedy stripe along the dampened skin of your neck. 

And who are you to deny him? You cry out a declaration of your sudden orgasm, features squeezed and mouth parted as you struggle to catch your breath. Satoru stares at you with widened eyes, and a stuttered breath, “Hah-...” He hadn’t even realized how close he’d been getting to spilling inside you, but welcomed the overwhelming feeling with open arms. He could go for five more rounds if you’d let him, anyways. 

God, this must be what it’s like to hit the jackpot. 

SUGURU GETO

nonchalant (acting a fool)

Suguru can’t lie to himself and pretend like he hadn’t imagined this scenario too many times to count before, usually as a desperate last resort when he’d found he can’t imagine getting off to anything other than the thought of you at a certain point. He’s sure that he’s a better man than this, and he’d certainly tried to be courteous and discrete about the way you make him feel, shying away from the line he’s been dreaming to cross. 

But now, sitting up on the mattress and unable to tear his eyes away from your tits, he realizes that he’d been overshooting the strength of his own resolve. Suguru surges forward, taking one in his mouth as he guides you up and down his length, doing anything he can to prove he’s still being normal about this. Fuck it. 

“Fuck,”  he moans against your chest, “wait a minute-...” You still your movements, tilting your head curiously at him as he swallows breathlessly, “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” He quickly reassures with a shake of his head, gently squeezing at your hips to punctuate the promise, “God, nothing’s wrong at all, I just need-...let me eat you out. Please?” You blink at him in surprise, placing a hand on his shoulder, “Huh?” 

“Seriously, I-...” He shakes his head, gazing up at you like you’re the most wonderful thing he’d ever seen, “it’s all I’ve been thinking about.” 

During those moments in the past in which he found himself fucking his fist to the thought of you, he only ever found himself relishing in the idea of burying himself between your legs and making careful sure that the only thing you’d be capable of saying was his name. The both of you had been too hasty in the wake of realizing your feelings were reciprocated, too desperate to give each other everything you’d been dreaming of. It feels like the heavens have opened up before him as you slip off of his lap, letting him situate you against the pillows. 

Suguru’s methodic in the way he trails warm kisses down your body, stopping to suck a mark into your hip, but he can’t tease for too long, not when he probably wants to get you off on his tongue more than you want it (which is saying a lot). 

He kisses your bare cunt gratefully, before dragging his tongue against your entrance, eyelids already going heavy as he slips into a euphoric trance. Suguru tries his very hardest to keen on every noise you make, every cry of his name, but it’s hard to do that when he’s getting so drunk off the flavor of you. He’s suddenly starved, devouring you completely, too far gone to be embarrassed of the way he shakes his head against your pussy or moans just as loud as you do. 

Geto’s suspicions had been utterly correct. While he’s been eager to have you like he did moments before, to feel you wrap around him and to fuck up into you with calculated thrusts, this definitely takes the cake. He grows dizzy off your scent, grinding against the mattress to prevent himself from further losing his mind over the prospect of what he’s doing right now. 

You lace your hands through his hair, pulling at it as he brings you closer to the edge. This is all he needs, he thinks, he can easily be fine spending the rest of his life like this. Suguru wants to prove that much over and over again to you, and he won’t hesitate if you’ll let him. “You’re perfect.” He mumbles against your cunt, and he’s partially glad you’re too far gone to hear some of the pathetic remarks he’s uttering, “Need this so bad.”

Yeah, good luck hopping back on his dick anytime soon now that he knows he was right about how addicting you’d be. 

KENTO NANAMI

nonchalant by a thread

It’s easy for Kento to have steel-grade self control when you’re fully clothed and the conversation is tame. But when clothes are taken out of the equation, well, that’s a different story. That being said, he won’t forget his manners. 

You’re in a tender mating press, smiling softly at the sweet kisses Nanami keeps peppering across your face, and occasionally one to your lips. He briefly wonders why he ever thought it was a good idea to hesitate in taking the initiative to have you laid out against his pillows like this, moaning his name almost as if you knew how much that chipped away at his own self-preservation. You’re dangerously close to getting him to embarrass himself. 

“Do you like this?” He breathes against the shell of your ear as his pace speeds up a bit, knocking the wind out of you. Regardless, you nod, hardly able to wrap your lips around anything other than the shape of his name. Kento bites his lip, fighting the urge to go even faster. This was your first time together, after all, he’d be mad not to cherish it like something fleeting and sacred. He wants more, he wants this all the time, and he’s so close to begging you for it. In some last attempt of self-preservation, he utters, “You feel amazing,” almost choking on his breath after the fact. 

“Fuck, keep doing that.” You cry out, throwing your head back to give him a clear view of your throat that he so desperately wishes to mark up. He almost asked what you meant, before he peers down, realizing he’d mindlessly begun rubbing circles into your clit. Kento feels like he’s getting ahead of himself, yet not doing enough at the same time; this feeling is so foreign and overwhelming, but he’s falling in love with it. 

Following your orders, he continues his steady pace on your clit, mouth going dry as you tell him how close you are. Yes, please, that’s all I want to hear. 

“Please,” he murmurs in a gravelly voice, not realizing he’d started voicing his own thoughts, “cum for me.” Nanami is certain he’s going to lose control any moment, and he’s sure that you cumming around his cock is not going to help him at all in his hope to still be a gentleman to you. It’s alright, though, he thinks. If he’s going to embarrass himself, lose all resolve and allow himself to drown in this simple pleasure, Kento doesn’t think he’d want to do it with anyone else but you.

[thekijs]

Ok hear me out - I agree entirely with this but also...

From middle school age onwards, Bruce was raised by a retired British SAS operative, and while Alfred would never swear in front of young master Bruce he's also shown to have maintained contact and stayed in touch with some of the chaps he worked with, and I refuse to believe that Alfred just had zero social life for most of a decade until Bruce moved out for university.

What I'm saying is that Alfred probably had some of his old mates over for drinks and such on any evening they could manage to be on the east coast of the US. He wouldn't go out, needs to be home for Bruce, but the manor is more than large enough that once Bruce is off to bed a few old soldiers breaking open a bottle or two of the good stuff won't disturb anyone in another wing of the house.

So picture ten year old Bruce Wayne, carefully hiding by the top of the stairs, quiet as a mouse so none of those unfairly sharp ears notice him — They're all old! They shouldn't have hearing that good! So unfair! (sneaking past Alfred was a far better primer for his stealth skills than Bruce realized) — and as a result Bruce's internal monologue includes not just all that New Jersey influence, but also the entire lexicon of swears and cursing that a collection of old English soldiers could accidentally teach him.

Okay guys I want everyone to hear me out on this one okay? Bruce may be rich but he was still raised in new jersey. I need you all to know the only reason he doesn't act or sound like it is because he was raised in high society. I need you to know that I firmly believe his internal monolog in no way matches any actual words he says out loud or anything he would actually do.

*the JL arguing over how to go about getting information from some criminal*

Hal: okay and how would YOU go about this spooky?

Bruce, in his head: I say we force the information out of him, light him on fire and throw him in the harbor, where he will continue to burn because Gotham is a shit hole and the water is so polluted we have to out source water for the fire fighters.

Bruce, actually speaking: we follow protocol and turn him over to whatever law enforcement that has jurisdiction over him.

*bruce and Clark arguing over something petty in their personal lives*

Clark, trying to end the fight somewhat amicably: I just don't love it, but I will respect your opinion on the matter

Bruce, in his head: and I 'just don't love' that you're acting like a little bitch about it BUT HERE WE ARE FUCK FACE

Bruce, out loud: Hn, let's move on

*batfam comms during a slow night*

Dick: do you think the rogues finally figured out that they could spend their time doing something more productive to avoid getting their asses kicked?

Bruce, internally: i doubt they'd be able to figure that shit out if it jerked them off and bit them in the ass

Jason, three blocks over: are you fucking kidding me? Most of them wouldn't be able to figure that out if it came to them as a swift kick to the head, let alone a stray fucking thought

Bruce: hood, language.

Bruce, internally: that's my fucking boy :)

[oh-no-its-bird]

Shikamaru accidentally becomes the second coming of Jiraiya via anonymously publishing BL novels with Sakura and Ino as his managers and editors

HEAR ME OUT. HEAR ME OUT.

Ok so, Shikamaru's grandfather passes away (aka my oc Shikasada, for those in the know) and among his things is a very old diary dating back to Konoha's founding. Shikamaru opens it to fund uhh. Many things. Many things he could have gone without knowing. Mostly revolving around his grandpa's apparent years long slow burn affair w some Hatake boy.

Shikamaru, sort of horrified but in too deep to back out now, resolves to at least finish the diary-- and despite himself, besides some of the more painful to read sections, there really is a lot of really interesting information in the diary.

Which brings Shikamaru to being unable to set down the diary, and bringing it to the academy with him in the morning.

(Quick note, lets set this like two or three months before graduation, so Shikamaru is like, ~13 I think)

SO, SHIKAMARU IS IN CLASS AND READING HIS GRANDFATHERS DIARY IN THE BACK OF THE CLASS (his first mistake, tbh) And he doesnt notice as Ino and Sakura appear behind him and Ino starts reading over his shoulder. And Ino, proud fujo, after a minute of reading goes really loudly,

"is that YAOI???"

And now Shikamaru essentially has two options. Both of them a uniquely kind of terrible. Does he,

a) admit this is his grandfathers very gay, very sappy, very depressing, kind of steamy diary about how he cheated on his fiance with a Hatake boy and even briefly debated running away from his wedding to be with him instead (but ultimately didnt)

or, b) let his classmates think hes a fan of doomed yaoi romance novels.

He decides that option b at least doesnt invoke a possible scandle for his clan (which his mom would kill him for) and says its a book.

Sakura immediately points out the fact that its hand written.

On pure reflex, Shikamaru blurts, "I wrote it."

(Instant regret.)

So anyways Ino and Sakura (mostly Ino) bully Shikamaru into letting them read 'his' book. And they come back to him with it going "omg, this is amazing! It's just as good-- maybe even better than most of the things on the market right now!!!"

And Shikamaru is like, "great can I have it back please."

And they're like "Shikamaru, you cant just let this kind of masterpiece rot in your closet!!!! This is incredible!!!! Heart wrenching!!! Hair raising!!! Super dramatic and filled with tension and drama and history and 𝓇𝑜𝓂𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒 !"

And Shikamaru, again, is like, "Great. Can I have it back please."

"Shikamaru, you don't understand. You have a gift."

"Can I please have it back now."

So. One thing leads to another and after much peer pressure (and maybe some light threats of blackmail because Ino and Sakura have totally realized that Shikamaru didn't actually write the diary, and it instead belonged to his grandfather. (Mostly because Ino had actually met the man before, and obviously recognized his name)) Shikamaru has now gained:

a) two very eager 13 year old publishing managers / editors

b) the contact information of Sakura's cousin, who coincidentally works at one of the biggest publishing houses in Fire counry.

c) somehow, some way, the obligation to edit and publish his grandfathers diary as a bl romance novel.

Shikamaru hates his fucking life.

SO. THEY PUBLISH IT AFTER SOME EDITING AND CHANGING OF CLAN NAMES AND ITS A WILD SUCCESS. SHIKAMARU IS KIND OF MAD AT HOW MUCH OF A WILD SUCCES IT IS.

(Though, laying in his bed of money that now rivals his father's personal funds as the Nara clan head, he can't bring himself to be... as mad as he might have otherwise been.)

(Sakura and Ino, also with their giant piles of money, are also very satisfied.)

But the satisfaction doesnt last for long bc soon the girls are scheming to get Shikamaru to write something new for them to publish.

"But I didn't write the diary to begin with!" Shikamaru argues.

"What does it matter?" Ino insists. "You still edited it, and it was your grandfather who wrote it! Some of the talent has to be there!"

(depressingly enough for Shikamaru, some of the talent does seem to be there.)

And thus begins Shikamaru's life of becoming a famous romance author with his (blackmailers) managers Ino and Sakura <3

(In the pure lands, Shikamaru's grandfather is screaming into a pillow as his Hatake boy in question laughs his ass off and insists this is exactly what he deserves after keeping them a secret for so long. Really, Shika, you should be proud for having such a resourceful grandson.)

So anyways, this brings me to the fact that Sakura's first ever encounter with her new sensei, Kakashi, would have gone WILDLY different on her end. Because she saw the original diary. She, unlike the general public, didn't get the edited version of the story with changed clan names.

So when her teacher walks into the room and introduces himself, her very first thought is omg like the yaoi.

And her first act is to start giggling maniacally in the corner of the room like a little freak. In Sakura we stan

Kakashi meanwhile has no fucking clue what kind of drugs that little girl is on, but finds that he probably doesn't want to know.

WHICH ALSO BRINGS ME TO THE FACT THAT LIKE. Theres something profoundly funny about known icha-icha lover Kakashi reading this novel and becoming a huge fan-- absolutey 100% unaware that it's about HIS direct cousin, only two generations back.

Shikamaru put way more effort into disguising the Nara clan's involvement in the book-- both because he cares more about the Nara and because he kinda uhh... was under the impression that the Hatake were all dead, like, for real. In the book, the Nara's clan name is changed, the character names are changed, their sacred animal is changed to a rabbit and their traditions are all altered-- but the Hatake clan just becomes the Hasake clan and is largely left alone bc Shikamaru is 13 and can't really be bothered to go the extra mile.

(Editing so much is such a bother, Ino. You just dont get it)

So like, Shikamaru has no idea who Kakashi is, he only learns he exists when Sakura fucking bodyslams into him and Ino screaming about how HER NEW TEACHER IS RELATED TO THAT GUY YOUR GRANDPA HAD NASTY GAY SEX WITH !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

"THE ONE LIKE IN THE DIARY ONE???" Ino screams

"IS THERE ANOTHER GUY WHO HAD NASTY GAY SEX WITH SHIKAMARU'S GRANDPA WHO I'M SUPPOSED TO KNOW ABOUT??!?!?" Sakura screams back

Shikamaru just screams into his pillow. The girls both ignore him.

Meanwhile, Kakashi knows SHIT about his clan and recognizes nothing in the novel. Which is a special kind of tragic because as he reads it, he's being given more information than he's ever been given about his clan. And even specific stories and in depth recorded conversations about his grandmother-- and even occasional mentions of his own father as a baby, and he just... has no idea.

Man is literally reading about his ancestors, getting stories of his family only a single generation before him, going: "Wow something about this clan just speaks to me. Probably the dogs."

Literally getting his fathers childhood stories. Not a single clue.

Hes going on a mission going "Hmm, what would Haruka Hasake from hit bl series XXX do" like that isnt secretly his fucking GRANDMA

Meanwhile, all three of the kids are acting SO shady around him. Ino and Shikamaru specifically are so fucking suspicious bc they are largely successful in avoiding him like the plague-- so when they do interact, it's an Event(tm) for them, while Sakura is forced to learn to be normal near him via exposure.

Tho not even the sage himself can save Sakura from the day Kakashi pulls out THE book during training instead of his usual icha-icha. Sakura fucks up her aim on a body flicker and flies straight into a tree, giving herself a concussion. Rip!!

Anyways yeah. Let Shikamaru discover his grandfathers old, scandal filled diary and be blackmailed by Ino and Sakura into publishing it-- setting him on his journey of becoming the next big thing in naruto romance publishing. It'd be funny as hell.

Special thanks to @imsosleepyofyourbull and @halsaph for talking to me about this on discord, this is so fucking stupid and I had so much fun with it

[elliescoquettegirl]

Papercuts

ellie williams x fem reader

────────────────────── starting university you thought would fulfill you, the empty void inside you. that changing your whole life would solve your problems. it didn't, it actually made it worse. now you were completely alone, in a place far away from home and everything you once knew. you started working at a bar to fill your empty weekends. that's when you met ellie, your coworker and also someone that studied a year above you. would she perhaps help you fill this void of loneliness and uncertainty of yourself and your future?

contains smut! minors dni

──────────────────────

Prologue: Next chapter:

You thought starting university would somehow fill this void inside you. But it didn't. You're even more unsure of yourself and stuck in your own head. Away from your family and friends, in a city you've never been in before. You thought making friends would be easy, but everything feels like a wall around you slowly moving closer, trapping you there. Literature, films and stories of older generations painted it to be one of the best years of your life. Getting in felt good, even if applying there was done on a whim. You were drunk at a bar with your friends when you accepted it. Hearing whispers of something better ahead as you clicked accept.

People in class are passionate about their studies, already having a plan after getting their degree, while you're there planning the next day, hoping to survive. Everyone is so talkative, already hanging out during their free time. Talking about the crazy pub nights they've had during the weekend, when what you've done is just lay in bed. You did join them sometimes, you could tell they wanted to know you but when you were out, everything felt robotic. You laughed when they laughed even if you didn't find something funny. The conversations always ending up being background noise, you'd just nod to make them think you were listening. Your anxiety constantly hanging in the air — thick, inescapable and you breathed it in. Their way of speaking, always signaling how sure of themselves they were. Although there was a possibility of it being a fasade, it didn't stop the insecurity from sinking in.

You got a job at a bar just so you could occupy your weekends with something. The bar was perfect, far away from campus so there would be little to no chance of you running into familiar faces. The thought of having to make small talk, while being stuck there with a classmate making something clench deep in your gut. The only familiar face you'd encounter at work being Ellie that studied a year above you. When you began working there, you would usually leave work at the same time that she arrived, only throwing quick glances at each other. The glances evolving into intense eye contact that would last a bit longer than it should. You were always the one to break the eye contact. Each time you would break it by quickly looking away, give an awkward smile and go back to pretending to focus on whatever you were working on. You probably looked dumb half the time, trying to look focused while cutting up a lemon or cleaning up the bar counter, like that takes any effort.

After those small interactions you would always lay in bed thinking about her. The way she moved with such grace. How she charmed everyone around her, instantly pulling people towards her. She was beautiful, breathtaking even. You liked that her eyes were so expressive and even if you didn't know her, you were certain that you could sometimes read her mind based on those beautiful green eyes. But you were probably just crazy delusional. She's every sapphics dream. Confident but humble, childish and always fooling around but not in an obnoxious way. The two of you barely spoke, just a casual hi or have a good night. She always had a cigarette tucked between her lips and her hair pulled into in a messy half bun. The tattoo on her arm, that she always left exposed with her rolled up shirt sleeves, you would sometimes by pure instinct start drawing in your journal. A moth. You would rip up the pages and throw them in the trash. Like that would change anything about that fact that she was on your mind too much. Someone you barely knew or hadn't even spoken to.

Last week your boss had approached you, asking if you would consider switching schedules with someone else. So now you have been rescheduled to work closing shifts with her every Sunday. Breathing heavily and your legs aching from pedaling on your bike like your life depended on it as you arrived at the bar. The summer's final warmth, your face damp causing your bangs to stick to your forehead. Before walking in you tried to adjust them, this exact moment being a reminder to not cut your bangs again. You had tried to grow them out for a year, failing every time. In a moment of weakness at three am you'd always end up in front of the bathroom, scissor in hand. When you walked into the bar, Ellie was crunched forward, both elbows resting against the table whilst talking to a regular. Ellie cursed, laughed loud and even hit the customer against their shoulder when they said something funny. You wished you could be that relaxed, instead you would just hand them their drinks and speak kindly. Throwing out thank yous. Sometimes, you tried to make an effort but it just seemed too fake and the customers would notice it too. She tilted her head towards you and when you were close enough for her to finally speak, all she said was the obvious, that you were late. Her voice, gentle and raspy. She wore the usual attire, pants and buttoned up shirt, with rolled up sleeves. You didn't bother replying, knowing you would not be quick enough with coming up with a lie as to why you were late. The truth is why you were late was because you kept fixing your appearance.

The bar was practically empty. Usually during shifts like these all you would do was clean off tables or scroll mindlessly on your phone. You start going around the tables and picking up empty glasses and asking if anyone wants something. Someone ordered a glass of wine and when you went behind the counter you couldn't find it.

“I cant find this bottle of wine, are we all out?” you said.

She was still making conversation with the regular, so she excused herself and started scanning the shelves.

“Did you check the wine fridge?” Ellie asked, with a tone that probably wasn't intentional, but one that made you feel stupid. You shook your head confused since you had never been there, which you also told her. She started walking off, signaling for you to go with her. She had such a distinct walking style, if you had seen her in a crowd of people you would know it was her from an instant. Ellie opened the door to a room with fridges filled with beverages. You let out a small laugh, Ellie played with her hands and looked at you.

“Well I feel stupid now” you said.

“Havent you been working here for weeks?”, she said.

“Yeah but nothings been empty?”, you said a bit annoyed. Your arms crossing over your chest, using them as a shield.

“That explains why I've had to fill the shelves a lot more recently” she mumbled, shaking her head jokingly. It was meant as a joke, but it still left you feeling anxious.

“Oh i’m sorry”, you mumbled back covering your mouth with your hand. She walked towards you, took your hand from your face, cupping it with her hands and reassured you that it's fine. She stood so close now, her facial features even prettier up close. She had a few scars, the eyebrow slit you had seen before, which was hot as fuck but she also had smaller ones across her cheek and one under her other eyebrow. You wondered where they came from, you wish you could ask her. She was also studying your features. The sudden ring of the bell at the counter shattered the tension, ending the silent stare off between you two. She let go of your hand, her eyes widening lightly, surprised at her own doing. She lifted her shoulders and tried to brace herself confidently. She let out a quiet awkward laugh, one you have not heard before, not tonight or all the times you have eavesdropped on conversations she had with regulars or other colleagues. This made you feel more sure of yourself in relation to her, having a glimpse of her vulnerability, even if it was just a hint of insecurity for a second.

The rest of the shift was quiet, not an awkward silence though. Her playlist played low throughout the bar speakers. Ellies hand, still imprinted on yours. When customers left and you began closing the tension in the room shifted quickly. Ellie felt tense and she kept dropping things, looking at you to see if you noticed and you pretended not to. You did not really understand what was going on but suddenly it felt like maybe she was feeling exactly like you were. But perhaps she was tired, it was past midnight after all. You're scrubbing off sticky liquor from a table when Ellie finally breaks the silence.

“Are you doing something tonight?” she said with a low tone, scratching her neck.

You replied with a "no" that sounded too desperate.

“Alright then let's go” she grinned and grabbed her leather jacket from a bar stool. The leatherjacket you had seen her wear once when she passed by you as you were heading home. The jacket looked worn but not by her, from someone else. Still, it sat on her like it was made for her. You tossed the rag into the sink and grabbed your things. You didn't know where you were going but she walked towards her car.

The drive was peaceful. The same playlist again and her humming along to the songs. One hand on the steering wheel and her tattooed arm rested on her thigh. She kept looking over and opening her mouth several times, like she was gonna say something but then decided not to. Eventually she did though.

"So why have you never tried to speak to me?” she asked, with one eyebrow tilted up slightly, teasingly.

“I don't know?” you said with the know drawn out. You knew why but of course you couldn't tell her. She studied you and it felt like she saw through that answer.

Just as you thought that she said “That's not an answer” while lighting a cigarette. This woman was like a goddamn chimney. She always smelt like cigarettes, a smell you usually hated, but on her it was fine. She also smelt like chestnut? Woody? You swore it smelled like this one margiela fragrance you had tried on once.

“I really don't know Ellie” you said with annoyance. The way her name rolled on your tongue felt so right.

Ellie didn't say anything, too focused on parking her car. And perhaps not in the mood to try getting a forced answer out of you — perhaps she already knew.

The bar was dark, echoes of drunk voices everywhere. Why were there so many people drunk on a sunday, you thought. But maybe just like you, they had just finished their shift with their hot coworker that they can't stop thinking about. The thought of that calms you down in some weird way. That everyone else in there, drowned their utter panic from the intimidation of someone else in alcohol just like you were about to. It was crowded and Ellie grabbed your hand as she guided you to the bar counter. It happened too fast, you didn't have time to react or even notice. The bartender recognized her and skipped other people waiting in line, just to take her order. She got you both whiskey neat which was bold of her to assume that is something you drink, but she was right. When you were seated you drank fast, big gulps, throat burning. Touching your hair, adjusting your clothes and looking around anxiously.

Ellie let out a tiny wheeze and said “relax”. You were being so easy to read right now.

You said “I am relaxed”.

Ellie shrugged and kept up to your drinking pace. Three glasses down and conversation suddenly was a lot easier. Not the conversation turning into background, no fake smiles. You could be yourself for the first time in a long time. Your whole body warm, drunk on her and the whiskey. She asked you about why you chose this major, instead of making it a simple answer you started rambling, because you felt comfortable with her, because you were drunk. You spoke about the major and everything else. You talked about how you were kind of regretting it. You told her about your other aspirations, that there were so many choices but only one life and so many opportunities. You spoke about Sylvia Plath's fig tree, how depressing it is that you only get to live so little in such a short time and that every choice you make is so important. How are you supposed to choose just one or a few things? Caught up in your own drunk slurring words, she interrupted you.

“Rather melodramatic aren't you?” she said as she leaned closer to you. Her green eyes pierced into yours. The tone in which she had said it had your thighs burning and her cold hand brushed against it in circular motions until it eventually stayed there. She studied your reaction as her other hand played with her glass. You literally cannot come up with a response, your mind completely blurred and body reacting in such a strong way it's affecting your cognitive function. She stood up, grabbing your hand again, leading you out the door of the bar.

The sound of drunk voices slowly disappearing, the closer you got to her car. She pinned you against it. Her hands, like clockwork, landed instantly on your hips. Her grip was hard, pinching your hipbone, like she was afraid you might run away. She smirked at you and leaned in slowly, her lips crashing into yours. You could taste the cigarette and liquor on her lips. Despite her mouth being filled with smoke at any given moment, her mouth was still damp and her tongue soft, in your mouth. Soft moans in between the wet noises of your lips clashing back and forth, exchanging saliva. You bit her lower lip gently and she whimpered. The kiss was interrupted by loud drunken laughs in the distance. Ellie looked back and then at you again. Her gaze shifting between your lips and eyes. She grabbed the side of your neck and gently rubbed it with her thumb. Her body, still pinned tightly against you. You were scared she could feel your pulsating clit through your two layers of fabric — which of course wasn't possible.

She opened the door to the backseat of her car and pushed you, getting on top of you. The kiss and the touching all felt so desperate. You had been yearning for this and so had Ellie. Her hands were moving everywhere frantically, going up and down your ribs, stroking over your breast. Your hands traveling up and down her back, grabbing her hair and stroking her jaw with your thumb. She stroked circles on your inner thigh while placing kisses down your jaw. The air in the car is humid, your bodies sweaty. Ellie took off your shirt and pants desperately and the sight of you in only your lingerie made her clit pulsate and her already damp underwear even more soaked. You were delusional enough that you had put on your sluttiest underwear, daydreaming of the possibility of her undressing you tonight — after all maybe you weren't delusional when you made that move. She took off your bra. Placing kisses on your breast, cupping the other with her hand, pinching your nipple. Soft moans escaping your mouth. She made soft hums with her raspy voice, you could literally come right there on the spot. You were high on the arousal, her hand drowsily moving towards your aching pussy. Your hips working their way towards her hand.

“So impatient” she murmured into your breasts leaning in to kiss you.

“Oh shut up”, was the only thing you could come up with as a response.

You unbuttoned her pants which made her gasp into your mouth. She slid down your panties, caressing your slick warmth with tenderness.

She moaned out “So wet for me already?” in between your kisses. Ellie was wet too and you both in sync started rubbing each others clit. The sound of messy moans and distant chatter from people outside the bar was the only thing you could hear. Every move Ellie made was completely right. You hadn't been this horny in months and if she didn't stop you would come. In order to save yourself from not ruining this sacred hot moment by already coming, you sat up and pinned her down instead. Quickly taking off her pants and unbuttoning her shirt. Revealing her whole tattoo and her toned stomach. You almost moaned at the sight. Ellie, so turned on by your sudden move to pin her down, watch as your hands travel across her body. You kiss down her neck and bite her ear lightly, causing her to whimper. Your drunk sloppy kisses traveled across her toned stomach. Murmurs of your name in between her soft moans. You pull off her soaking panties and start placing kisses on her inner thigh, her hips jolting towards your face in an attempt for her pussy to reach your mouth.

“So impatient” you say, face buried between her thighs, repeating what she had said to you before. You placed soft kisses across her soaked pussy, and slowly started using your tongue. Ellie grabbed your hair into a bun in her hand, grasping onto to it harder when your tongue found her right spots. You didn't mind the pain, it was proof of the pleasure you were giving her. You looked up, her eyes already piercing into you. She yanked your face into her pussy, buring you there.

“You look so good eating me out” she said, you whimper into her pussy from her intoxicating words. Her thighs pressed against your cheeks. The way they started to shake after a few minutes. Her moans becoming loudier and messier.

“Feels so good, keep going like that” she said. You moaned loud into her pussy, swaying and buckling your own hips, trying to chase any kind of stimulation. The pace of your tongue increasing, as you started rubbing with your fingers against her entrance. Her gaze never left you, eyebrows furrowed and mouth agape. You entered her slowly, watching her eyes roll back. Your fingers pumping in and out her, hitting that spongy spot. She didn't need to tell you she was coming, you could feel it. Her pussy clenching. You looked up to see her head leaned back, eyes closed, eyebrows furrowed and mouth agape. Messy moans and curse words are all that can be heard along with the wet noises from her pussy. The pace of your tongue and fingers slowing down, helping Ellie ride out her high.

When she came undone for you, you wiped off some of her residue off your face and reached for her lips. The kiss was sloppy, her lips warm and soft. She sat up slowly, eyes not leaving yours and clapped on her thigh lightly as she spread them.

“Come here” she said.

You did what you were told and you straddled her, kissing her passionately, her fingers entering inside you with no warning. She commented on how wet you were for her. You jolted back a bit and began swaying your hips in sync of her fingers pumping in and out of you. Ellies unoccupied hand cupping your ass, slapping it lightly. Strands of salvia between you when your lips part in inbetween kisses. And the taste of her pussy lingering on both your lips from before. She rubs your clit with her thumb in slow circular motions. Your mouth is dry from moaning so much. She watches you the whole time. The faces you make as desperate sounds come from you. How her tattooed arm looks placed between your thighs. The way your breasts bounce as you ride her fingers. You burrowed yourself in her neck, moaning into her ear. She grabbed your jaw and told you to open your mouth, when you did, she spit in it. You moaned, it was all you could do. You've never had something so filthy done to you before and it turned you on immensely. You break the kiss and look down at her. The sight of her beneath you, sweaty with her brows furrowed, her bottom lip in between her teeth, focused on your pleasure. She's so fucking beautiful. Your body is so tense, pleasure overwhelming, you could fall apart on her at any moment. She felt it too. Electricity sending throughout your whole body. Your eyes never leave hers. You moaned out her name and god knows what else, your mind clouded with pleasure.

You came, hard, Ellie praising you through it. “Thats it come for me” she said.

When you were done, she gently pulled her fingers out of you which caused you to shiver. You kissed, slowly, with no rush this time. The air and your lips filled with the aftertaste of both your orgasms and cigarettes.

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NOT PROOFREAD

wrote this a month ago but been too nervous to post but fuck it. second time ever writing smut or even a fic (for others to see). english isn't my first language and i'll gladly take constructive criticism. i'm still trying to find my own writing style and this is something i do for fun and don't take seriously. also feel free to send me requests, could be a good way for me to train my writing <3 thank you to my friend for telling me about her gay panic over her coworker that totally inspired this fic.

also let me know if anyone would be interested in being tagged in the first chapter — if write one.

tag: @erensfart @anneboleynluvr @faggot1234

[corrcdedcoffin]

Pissed - JJ Maybank

request: yes

summary: you and jj get into a drunken fight and ignore each other for days. in those few days, your friends don't hear from you and go looking for you, only to find you unconscious in the middle of nowhere.

warnings: hurt/comfort fic. drunk fights. mentions of blood and stitches. fluff. happy ending.

Pissed was an understatement. You were furious; full of blinding rage — and so was he.

It started off as a small argument when you saw some girl throwing herself at JJ. You knew he wouldn't ever entertain it, but you were drunk and got jealous (something JJ always thought was cute, except for that day). So, things got heated between you.

You couldn't help it — whoever she was, was practically drooling all over him and trying to touch him wherever she could get her grubby little hands. You saw him laugh hard at something she said, only making her lean into him even more. It drove you mad. Even more so when he didn't seem to be getting rid of her.

Why wasn't he getting rid of her?

Usually when you argue, it hardly ever turns into a full blown fight. It was one of the things the rest of the pogues were surprised by, but fond of. But this time, things were said that can't necessarily be taken back.

Clingy. Possessive. Annoying.

The way he shouted them at you was on a constant loop in your mind. The fact that he'd shouted at you in the first place was enough to have you offended.

Asshole. Fuckface.  Mentions of a break up.

Don't fucking talk to me again.

You couldn't escape it. Everyone knew that JJ was prone to outbursts, but never with you. No, he always kept his cool with you, even during fights. He always found a way to calm himself and you down, always said he didn't want you to go to bed angry because if you did, it meant he failed at making you happy. At being your person.

Now, it's been two days.

Two whole days without seeing or talking to him. Two days of bone crushing dread. 

Kiara had told you about everyone getting together at John B's, and said JJ was already there. You didn't mind keeping it civil while with friends, but you weren't gonna be the first one to break. You were standing your ground. 

When you arrived, JJ got up and left without a word. 

It was like taking a knife straight to the heart. 

You acted like it didn't bother you, but your friends knew you both better than that. Pope tried to offer some consolation and advice, you shrugged it off and said you were fine, but he'd never seen you so quiet before.

On the third day, no one had heard from you at all. John B texted you about the swell, and all he got in reply was a simple no at ten in the morning.

Sarah and Kiara texted and called you throughout the day wanting to have a girls night, go shopping, do something without the boys. They knew you were upset, and nothing could cure a hurting heart like some time with your girls. 

They didn't get a response either.  It wasn't until later that they started to really worry.

You had always been good at keeping your friends in the loop, even if you weren't up to hanging out. You'd say you wouldn't make it, but you'd see them the next day, or whenever you could. You'd still respond to random texts and sent tiktok's, at the very least giving a reaction to it.

Today was radio silence. Even JJ was starting to worry, though he tried not to show it. The girls got mad at him for that.

"You're being an idiot, JJ" Kiara told him.

"Seriously! What if something happened to her?" Sarah added.

JJ rolled his eyes, sighing. "Nothing happened, okay? She's probably just trying to get a rise outta me, and it's not gonna work, alright?"

Everyone was silent at that, because they knew you'd never take it that far.

"I'm gonna go look for her" Sarah spoke, getting up from the couch. She had an uneasy feeling she couldn't ignore. 

Kiara volunteered to go with her, and eventually everyone except JJ had got up from their seats and headed towards the twinkie.

Pope looked back at JJ and let out a deep breath, full of disappointment. "Come on, man. Even you know this is out of character for her, and if you really aren't worried like you're acting, then you're not who I thought you were."

He let the door slam after that, making JJ groan and harshly rub his face. The thought of something happening to you was eating him from the inside out. It wasn't until he heard the sputtering engine start that he got up and ran to the van, shouting for them to wait.

After deciding the first logical place to check was your house, the ride was silent. Shaking legs, fiddling fingers, insides of cheeks being chewed.

It got worse after they found out you weren't home.

They checked everywhere. The boneyard, the park, your favourite cafe, the bar, even checked if you worked that day. Nobody had heard from you.

Everyone was arguing on where to look next, having a hard time deciding since you didn't frequent very many places, and being unable to come up with anything that would make sense for you. They were silenced when JJ got behind the wheel, telling them all to get in.

There was one spot they didn't check.

The drive was a bit lengthy for the tension, the trees growing thicker didn't put anyone at ease. It was a spot you and JJ had found a few years ago while fucking around and exploring questionable terrain. You'd found a small, beaten path and begged him to see where it lead.

To both your surprise, it was a small pond with a semi stable gazebo with a hole in the roof that was big enough to stargaze through. You'd spent quite a bit of time out there together, calling it your own and claiming it as your future wedding spot.

The memories had JJ clenching his jaw.

How could he have been so stupid, so stubborn? You were the light of his life, how could he treat you like this? All you did was shower him with the love he so deeply craved. You cared about him more than anyone, and he hurt you. There were a million thoughts running through his mind. 

Were you hurt? Were you with someone else? Was this really a break up and not just a fight gone too far?

If it was a break up, JJ didn't know if he'd ever be okay again. You were his girl, forever and always. He knew he'd never be able to move on from you, and he never wanted to. 

He slowed down as they got closer, hearts and minds feeling slight relief at the sight of your car. Before he had the van in park, Sarah and Pope had hopped out and ran to your car to check for you. 

JJ was silent as he walked past and through the trees, everyone sharing looks of confusion before shrugging and following along. It was quiet. Mosquitos buzzing and crickets chirping could be heard all around. The occasional twig snapping under someones shoe. 

"Where the hell are we going?" John B broke the silence. 

The path was dark. Sarah and Pope had turned on their phones flashlight as JJ replied, "It's a spot we found a few years ago."

Just ahead they could see the clearing, and the faint outline of the gazebo. Kiara called out your name as she looked around, but got no response. As they got closer to the gazebo, JJ started to run. 

It wasn't until he kneeled down that they saw you lying there. 

"Hey, hey, wake up" he shook you gently. No response. 

"C'mon, baby" he tried again, but it wasn't until Pope shone the light on you that they noticed the blood trickling down your temple. 

"Oh god, what happened?" Kiara asked no one in particular. 

John B walked around looking at the gazebo, noticing a fallen board nearby, a tiny splotch of blood on the corner. "This happened" he held it up. 

JJ clenched his jaw, ashamed of himself for being so stubborn and letting you get hurt. He scooped you up and held you tight, "Hospital. Now."

Everyone ran back down the trail and got the van ready to go, JJ going as fast as he could without light, trying not to trip and hurt you even more. Pope helped him get you in the van, Sarah shutting the door as John B sped back to town. 

He sat on the floor with you pulled against him. Cradling your head and gently stroking your hair away from your face, pulling it out of the drying blood and exposing your wound. It didn't look life threatening, but you'd definitely need stitches. 

"Check her nose" Pope said, turning his flashlight back on. 

"For what?" John B asked. 

"If her brain is bleeding!"

"There's no blood" said Sarah. 

"It's not blood that comes out, it would be clear and watery and it's not good."

JJ looked, then wiped a finger under your nose. "She's good" was all he said. 

They went back to being silent after that, watching with sadness as JJ caressed you and kissed at your head over and over. Any other time anyone saw him tear up at something, they'd have laughed and poked fun at him for breaking his tough guy exterior. This time, they were silent. 

It was his worst nightmare come true. Fighting and not talking, on the brink of losing you not just temporarily, but forever. 

He ran into the hospital as fast as he could when they pulled up, careful not to shake your head too much. He screamed for help. He placed you on a bed. He watched as they ran away with you, checking your pulse and your breathing, and he was left there to wait. 

It felt like a lifetime sitting in that waiting room. Twiddling his thumbs, watching the news, reading shitty magazines. He tried to nap, but his brain was working overtime telling him all the things he did wrong in your relationship, specifically the last four days. 

He tried to see you. 

The doctors and nurses kept telling him no, family only. They didn't listen when he said he was your boyfriend, and they didn't care that he was the one to bring you in. Pope and John B had to hold him back and talk the staff out of kicking him out. 

He had to wait nearly six hours before he got to see you. Six dreadful hours. Your parents never showed up, so the doctor finally let him in after JJ explained that they were on another continent, and the only family that was here, was them. 

They all piled into your room, staring at you. Stitched and bandaged, monitor clipped to your finger and an IV attached to the opposite hand. 

"She's going to be fine," the doctor began. "Minor concussion at most."

"Then what's the IV for?" JJ asked. 

The doctor sighed, knowing he wasn't letting up until he got answers. "C'mon man. She's got no one else here" JJ spoke, fatigue preventing him from snapping. 

"It's antibiotics in case of any infection from the wood, just a precaution. I'll leave you to it" she nodded before leaving the room. 

Everyone stayed for a little while before leaving. John B and Sarah said they'd be back in the morning with some clothes for you both and some food. JJ sat in the stiff visitors chair, scooting close and holding your hand, resting his head on your bed and finally getting some sleep for the first time in days. 

He woke up to a soothing scratch against his scalp. He always loved when you'd play with his hair. 

His head shot up and he stared at you, wide eyed. Everything he wanted to say to you got bunched up in a ball and stuck in his throat, his eyes watering as he struggled to get any sort of word out. 

"It's okay" you whispered, and he lost it. 

"It's not okay" he shook his head, "I'm so sorry" he sobbed. He apologized over and over, a blubbering mess. You rubbed his hand, his arm and his back as he cried until he calmed down. 

"God, I'm an idiot" he sniffled, "You're the one hurt and in the hospital and you're the one comforting me" he shook his head, wiping his eyes and nose. 

"That's okay" you shrugged. 

"No, it's not!" he argued, rubbing his face in distress. "Are you okay? How's your head?" he asked, moving to sit next to you on the bed, not letting go of your hand. 

"It's fine. A little sore but.." you shrugged. 

He just stared at you. He tried to come up with anything to make the situation better, but he couldn't. 

"I'm so sorry, baby" he whispered. "For everything. The fight, the things I said, everything after. For being so fucking stubborn I- I'm so, so sorry." 

You nodded. "I'm sorry too. I--"

"No, you don't have anything to be sorry for."

"JJ stop. Just because I hit myself in the head doesn't mean I didn't also fuck up, okay? I lost my shit on you and it wasn't cool, I was just.. I don't know. Drunk and jealous, and I didn't handle it well, clearly."

"We were both idiots" he stated. "I just, I need to make sure you weren't serious when you mentioned breaking up. Or if you were." He choked out. 

Every single part of him was praying you didn't mean it. He wasn't sure what he'd do if you did. 

You shook your head, tears spilling out. "No," you sniffled. "I don't want that. Do you?"

"No, no, absolutely not. You're it for me, sweetheart."

You were released from the hospital a few hours later. John B and Sarah had brought you some clean clothes and a peanut butter sandwich with a wildberry juice box. You scarfed it down before they even started to take you home. When parking outside your apartment, they both gave you a big hug and kiss on the head before leaving. 

JJ didn't let go of you since you woke up. He always had a hand on you, or holding you, he even helped you get dressed before leaving the hospital. He doted on you all day long, making you food and snacks, bringing you water, massaging wherever he could get his hands on you. 

You'd spent the day watching movies, talking, cuddling. Making up for the days lost. 

He'd made spaghetti for dinner, then ran a bath for you, candles all around and bubbles filling the tub. He undressed you, helped you in, and then sat on the floor right next to you. 

"What're you so far away for?" you asked, and he scooched closer. You shook your head. "Get in" you said. 

You watched as he undressed and climbed in behind you. You leaned back against him and closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling of him rubbing your arms, shoulders, neck and chest. Relishing in the love and affection he was showering you in. 

It was quiet and relaxing, and you never wanted it to end. 

"I love you" JJ whispered, kissing your head. "So much."

"I love you, J."

[woozisprincess]

Seventeen's reaction to you wanting to run through the entire group

You want to run through the Seventeen members like you're on the track team.

Seventeen x Fem Reader

Super suggestive, entirely talk about sex, Soonyoung wants a threesome, they are all dtf, it's the same scenario but if each member were the first to find out, reader gets called a slut (lovingly), unedited bs

Seungcheol

"Really?" He looks at you with a raised brow. Not what he was expecting when he asked if you had a crush on any of them. Was hoping you'd say him, but he supposes this can work in his favor. He leaned close to you, grabbing by the waist. "Well, you could always start with me." And if he got his way, you won't even think about the others once he's done. You thought a night with the leader was a great way to kick off your excursions.

Jeonghan

All of them? Not that he was judging. Just sounded like a lot of effort. Also Cheol's really possessive, the maknae doesn't like to share either, and Soonyoung is such a brag. So many things to consider, and work around. Sounds like more effort than it's worth. But then again... Sense you're offering. "I don't know about those other guys, but I can promise you won't regret a night with me."

Shua

Well that's... Not information that he asked for, but go off. "Whatever makes you happy, sweetheart." Dumb response. What does that even mean? Truthfully, out of everyone you did not mean to tell Joshua. Sweet, gentle Joshua. You apologize for your poor manners. Joshua thought for a moment. "Well I'm not exactly a perfect gentleman all the time." He smiled at you. Sum bout' how he said it. Did that mean what you thought it meant?

Junhui

"Damn, girl!" The reaction was automatic. "Like the whole team!?" You confirmed. After the initial shock Jun actually could not care less, just another thing about you that he probably shouldn't know, but you told him regardless. "Well... Shit," he muttered, "let me know when it's my turn." He might not care all that much, but he's not fucking stupid. If a bad bitch wants him, a bad bitch wants him.

Soonyoung

"Oh bet!? Can I go first!?" That's it. He jumps at the opportunity laid out before him, does not give a fuck that his band mates also take up space in your mind. Was actually weirdly into the fact that you wanted them all. Would you have two of them at once? That'd be so hot. Is giddy when you agreed to let him go first as long as he bought you dinner first. Told the whole group he hit. However, was a real one and did not tell them that they were potentially next.

Wonu

Oh? Okay then? You didn't even say it directly, but from how you were literally growling when talking about each member during the performance? Yeah you wanted that cookie, you wanted the whole fucking box of cookies. The bakers dozen, if you will. "Someone's libido is fucked." He mentioned, casually. You went flush after realizing how fucking feral you were acting. "Hey, you want what you want. I want you too, if that makes you feel any better." It did. It made you feel a lot better.

Jihoon

Could you even do that? Like that's a lot of dudes. Your body would need breaks, surely. He had no clue why he was focusing on the logistics so much, but he knew proper protection was a must. "Make sure they all wear condoms, don't get distracted." Solid piece of advice, but not the response you were expecting. Jihoon then showed you that he was ready for you anywhere and anytime by opening a random drawer in his studio, revealing a box of condoms. Extra large. Oh my god. You 100% put those condoms to use.

Dokyeom

"Sorry? What? Sorry?" He short circuited. You patted his shoulder and apologized. "Nononononono." You shouldn't apologize, it's your body! Oh, for freaking him out? No he's not freaking out... He's a grown man, perfectly capable of listening to a beautiful woman's sexual desires, especially if he's a part of them. "I just-" he sputters. "Me too?" Yes? Oh. So nice of you. Very generous. "Thank you." Adorable. You couldn't wait to ravage him.

Mingyu

Big softie, immediately asked to take you out for dinner. You grin at the prospect of princess treatment. And boy was he generous. Most selfless lover you've ever had. And the date itself was magical, he pulled out all the romantic stops. Truly, that night you didn't just fuck, Kim Mingyu, you made love to him. Definitely happening again... After you make your rounds though. Mingyu completely forgot you wanted to fuck the team. Was chill about it though. Very happy you had plans to return to him.

Minghao

"What do you mean by that?" You looked at him like he was stupid, confirming his suspicions. Another one you didn't actually tell, it just slipped out. While watching them practice, you pointed out Jihoon and Hoshi, started singing that two bad bitches song. Then muttered 'actually, all these bad bitches.' Minghao's interest was piqued. Really, the last person you wanted to tell was Hao, he could be awful... Judgey. But he was surprisingly very open minded. You supposed it wasn't that out of character. "So is this like a mission, or a fantasy?" Mission? Cool. "I'm very in support of women taking control of their sexuality's." Aka, 'I'm down to fuck.'

Seungkwan

"Slut." Automatic. Not a single regret. To be fair, he was calling you that already. You couldn't argue with him either. This would be the sluttiest thing you've ever attempted. Seungkwan was so proud. "You know you're gonna have to amp it up if you wanna pull the whole team, right?" Told you what to wear for who, how to act around who. Made you a slide show full of info, though, he gave you no info on himself. But then he finished his lecture and said. "And about the sex part, can't be a good slut unless you've had some proper experience." His voice was low when he spoke. And you had complete faith that Boo Seungkwan could make the best slut.

Vernon

"baller." He meant that shit too. High-key a power move. He's sure you'd have them all whipped in no time. And some of them liked to fucking spend! Not only could you have dick whenever you wanted, and also multiple lovers for different moods, but dinner dates, lunch dates, cuddle seshes, shoes, purses, nails, hair, Lego sets! Whatever you wanted! The world was your oyster! Vernon's always liked a woman who knows what she wants. "Question. Can you choke me?" The answer was yes.

Dino

"Reaaallllyyyy?" Chan wasn't judging. Okay he was judging a little bit, but just because it was his hyungs. "They're all so... Bleh." Like sure they were attractive and talented, but they were also his hyungs. He just didn't get it. What did they have that he didn't? Well a few of them are really buff... Some of them have quite the way with words... And Hoshi and Jeonghan were charismatic... So maybe they had a lot. But still, they're his hyungs!!! "Don't even bother with those guys, I'm sure once we're done you won't even want them." Only one way to find out.

(⁠*⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠)⁠/⁠～⁠♡

A/N: I want to run through svt like I'm on the track team. I really like Kwan's, like yes, training ark. Jihoon said wrap it losers!!!

Anyways, if you liked this pls talk to me about it, I'd love to hear your thoughts. Comments or reblogs appreciated.

[alisonsfics]

i’m all in

pairing: carmy berzatto x reader

summary: couples have disagreements— it’s normal. but after getting shaken by an argument with you, carmy is distracted at work, leading to a fire and his priorities shifting into place.

word count: 1.3k

a/n: just some cute fluff in honor of the next season of the bear coming out tomorrow

You laid on your couch, cuddling up against your dog as you tried to push your most recent fight with your boyfriend out of your mind

You and Carmy didn’t fight often, which is why your stomach was in such tight knots.

He’d stayed over at your apartment last night after taking you out to dinner. Everything went fine— better than fine, everything was great. You both had an amazing time, and you both were still very happy when you woke up this morning.

Carmy had pulled into his chest, cuddling with you against the sheets. Just like he always did— trying to savor all the time he could with you before his alarm went off.

Then, you made a comment suggesting the idea of you both living together.

You weren’t asking him to commit to anything right then and there. You just wanted him to know it’s something that had been on your mind.

Then, Carmy froze up. You waited for a response.

“Oh, I don’t know.” He mumbled, noticeably nervous.

He kept feeding you non-answers, and you got irritated.

You snapped at him. “If you don’t want to, just say that. Don’t push me away and lie to me and only pretend you’re interested.” You finally yelled.

He pulled away from you and ran off to get dressed. You tried to talk to him, but he rushed out to The Bear, mumbling something about needing to go in early.

Carmy was such a special guy— you knew that. He made you feel so loved and supported, until this morning.

You wanted more. More commitment. And you didn’t know if Carmy could give it to you.

You were brought out of your thoughts by your phone buzzing. You quickly glanced down at the screen and saw Richie’s name flashing across.

You hit the decline button, dropping your phone back onto the couch.

Had Carmy talked to him about the fight? Was he going to meddle and try to help patch things up? You didn’t want to think about it right now.

A second or two passed, and your phone started buzzing again.

You pressed accept and held it up to your ear. Before you could even say anything, Richie started rambling.

You didn’t catch most of the words since he was talking so fast. You could hear a lot of commotion, like people around him were yelling— which wasn’t unusual for the Bear.

You managed to catch a few words — “Carmy” “upset” and “fire”

“Richie, slow down. There was a fire? Is Carmy okay?” You asked him urgently.

You could feel your palms start to sweat as thoughts of worst case scenarios flooded your mind.

Your heart was racing. You could hear it thudding like a drum in your ears.

“Yeah, I think he’s fine now, but you need to get down here.” He told you.

He didn’t have to tell you twice— you were already running out your front door.

Your legs carried you faster than they ever had as you sprinted towards The Bear.

You wouldn’t be able to calm your anxiety until you saw that Carmy was okay with your own eyes.

It normally took you twenty minutes to get to the restaurant from your apartment, but it only took ten.

You bursted open the front doors, running inside.

You saw Richie, Sydney, and Marcus sitting at a table and talking. Sydney had her head in her hands. The all looked tense— the tension filled the room, making you feel like you were suffocating.

“Back office with Sugar,” Richie told you, already anticipating your question.

You ran past them into the kitchen.

Your eyes landed on scorch marks up the wall and on the floor. You saw a pan full of food that had been burnt to a crisp.

You could imagine how big the flames had been to create marks like that. And you thought about what flames like that could have done to Carmy.

You pushed aside those thoughts and moved towards the office.

Standing in the doorway, you saw Carmy sitting in a chair with his head hanging between his knees. Sugar was there talking to him— her voice was muffled to you as you watched Carmy.

You scanned over his body, checking for any burns or cuts.

You had to be sure that he okay.

He wasn’t responding to anything she was saying. He just stared down at the floor with a vacant expression. You weren’t even sure he was hearing her.

Sugar glanced over at you. She recognized the look of anxiety that you both were currently wearing.

She gently placed her hand on Carmy’s shoulder. “Someone’s here to see you, Carm.” She told him.

He jumped up to his feet when his eyes landed on yours.

You both closed the distance, meeting each other halfway. He clutched onto your body, tightening his grip around your waist.

He felt delicate in your arms— like he was seconds away from breaking and shattering completely.

“Baby, are you okay? I heard about the fire. Did you get hurt?” You asked him quickly.

Sugar walked past, giving you both some privacy, and then closed the door behind her.

You noticed as his shoulders tensed and then started to shake. Was he…?

He was crying.

“I’m so sorry about this morning. I fucked up. Of course I want to live with you. I don’t want you to think that I’m not committed to this, to us. I just started to spiral. You’re my entire world. I knew that without you, I’d have nothing. And that really freaked me out, but I am all in. I love you so much.” He explained.

The emotion in his voice pulled at your heartstrings. “I know, baby. I love you too. I’m so glad you didn’t get hurt.” You said, rubbing his back.

You both stayed like that for a while— not saying a word and just holding each other.

When he stopped shaking in your arms, you brought him over to the couch in the room. He sat down beside you and then tugged you into his lap.

“I was so worried.” You said, caressing his cheek. He leaned into your touch. This morning, he’d been so worried that he pushed you away that he wondered if he’d ever feel your touch again.

His palm pressed against your own. His hand felt rough on your skin. He let his fingers slid through yours, interlacing them.

“I was distracted all morning. I just kept thinking about our fight and how wrong I’d been. I had a panic attack thinking I’d lost you. I just froze up, and I was just watching the pan burn. I couldn’t even move to stop it. I don’t know what would have happened if Richie hadn’t walked in right then.” Carmy recalled, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand as he spoke.

“I meant what I said before. I want to give you more, and I want to live with you. We could find a new apartment with a nice kitchen for me to cook and big windows like the one you’re always talking about.” He said, pressing his lips against the back of your hand.

The more he talked about it, you could see how much Carmy had thought of your future together.

“I didn’t know you thought about our future like that.” You said, honestly. He squeezed your hand. “Of course I do. You’re my favorite person in the world and the prettiest girl in the world. I’m not stupid enough to not know that.” He said.

His words melted your heart, feeling butterflies in your stomach. “I love you so much, Carm.” You leaned in to kiss him.

“We’re gonna close up here for the rest of the day. You want to go back to your apartment and we can start looking online at places?” He mumbled against your lips.

“Yeah, that sounds really good.” You said, kissing him again.

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[echodr3ad]

Need some more Noob x Reader for Forsaken, I love this shy non-binary baddie. (You will see me more)

-Milkdunked Anon

ᯓᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹ Noob General Dating Hcs

Pairings: Noob x GN Reader

Warnings: None

Authors Note: Man I love Noob SO much aswell, specially their party skin they look SOO CUTEEE!! Sorry for taking a bit Milkdunked Anon, I had exams... Scary, but i'm officially on vacations now! So I can now work on requests! (Yipee!!) Since you didn't specify anything, i'll just be doing general hcs, I hope that's okay with you.

✮ Noob is quite an affectionate partner, they love to cuddle you, hold your hand, kiss your cheek and the like.

✮ What they specially like to do is linking their arms with yours. To them, it feels more intimate and special.

✮ They are a bit shy though, so it may take them a little while before they start becoming affectionate.

✮ You two are the power couple, it's a rarity to see one of you without the other.

✮ If that's the case, it's either because one of you went down or wasn't sent to participate in the round.

✮ The other survivors always ask Noob about you when they don't seem you with them, it's the first thing they ask, like "Hey Noob, where's [Name]?"

✮ They also ask you about Noob if you're the one that's left alone.

✮ Noob will clumsily throw themselves into danger to protect you. Either trying to distract the killer or taking hits for you.

✮ They always blame themselves when you go down, even when it wasn't their fault at all (please comfort them, they need it).

✮ Whenever they find an item, such as another Bloxy Cola or a medkit, you're the first person to receive it, no matter what, even if they might need it more than you do.

✮ But they refuse to take them for themselves. The only way you can force them to take a medkit for themselves is if they're on low HP and Elliot has gone down already.

✮ Speaking of Bloxy Cola, they love sharing theirs with you. It brings them so much joy being able to share something they like so much with you.

✮ They will probably ramble to you about how much more bland it tastes here than in normal Robloxia.

✮ Noob also likes to share all of their snacks with you, usually they wouldn't really like sharing, but since it's you they don't mind. They always ask if you want something.

✮ Whenever you two have the time, they like to take you stargazing since it's always nighttime.

✮ They definitly don't know the names of any constelations, but they make new ones up.

✮ They named one after you, and one after them! They always try to look for those two stars every time they stargaze with you.

✮ Believe it or not, Noob is actually quite the chatterbox. They always have a conversation topic.

✮ Your conversation could start off talking about what happened last round and end up being about something entirely different.

✮ They like to make you matching bracelets for the both of you to wear. The goofy smile they have whenever they see you wearing it is quite adorable.

✮ They don't get really mad or if they see you broke it, specially if they see that you're upset over breaking it. They know it probably wasn't your fault.

✮ They'll gladly make you another bracelet that's even better than the other one!

✮ Noob likes to try and slow dance with you, they aren't exactly good at it, but they like doing so anyway because they think it's really romantic.

✮ They also like cooking with you! They think it's super fun, specially if you're baking together.

✮ They also aren't very good with cooking, but if you are, they'll gladly pass you the ingredients you need and give you moral support with their presence.

✮ If you aren't, the both of you do your best not to screw up, even if it usually happens anyway.

✮ You end up needing to call Elliot for help, and he flawlessly fixes the issue in under a second. He truly is in a different league.

✮ Noob is definitly the type to eat the batter when you're baking, so watch over them.

[rakhalofthestars]

I Need A Doctor, Oh!

Synopsis: Boothill's partner comes down with a fever and he's now worrying himself to death over the love of his life and their health

Tags: Boothill x gn! reader, fluff, light angst, established relationship, hurt/comfort, sickfic, soft boothill, boothill has ptsd

Warnings: None! I think...

wc: 2,4k

One of the perks of space travel was that there were no space bugs and by “space bugs”, you aren’t talking about those awful and freakish swarms of True Stings. Rather, you meant simple viruses that went around spreading infections and illnesses. 

It was an absolute dream, being able to walk around the spaceship wearing whatever you wanted with no regards whatsoever for the temperature and eating anything you could get your hands on with zero fucks given over whether it’s a smart decision to eat an entire tub of your favorite ice cream while butt-naked and dripping wet from the shower you’d just taken. 

Even better was the fact that you never needed to worry about your travel companion ever carrying any diseases either. I mean, come on! Boothill’s a cyborg! Cyborgs can’t get sick unless you count malfunctions as illnesses… Although, to be fair, the guy certainly acted like he was on death’s door whenever suffering from an internal problem in his circuits.

“Oh darlin’.... Is that the pearly gates I see?,” Boothill moans dramatically while lying on your worktable with his metal abs removed, revealing the beautiful hardware underneath. He truly was a work of art with wires filled with icy blue fuel mimicking the veins and arteries of an organic being and making everything, even the tiniest little gear, tick as it should. Or… that would’ve been the case if it weren’t for the odd pieces of junk that had somehow wormed its way inside through the cracks and crevices. “I don’t know what’s more surprising. The fact that your insides are like a garbage disposal right now or the fact that you think you even stand a chance of coming near the pearly gates,” you remark dryly. Was that a fucking mini tumbleweed stuck between two gears???

“Right. ‘Pologies fer havin’ ambitions.” “They’re a bit too high, don’t’cha think?” “Gee, y’really know how ta’ make a man feel better ‘bout his choices, darlin’.” “Considering the fact that my hands are deep inside your guts, you’ve got a lot of nerve giving me attitude. I recommend keeping the sass to a minimum before I decide you’ll make a lovely smart fridge.” At least that did the trick in getting Boothill to shut up. You loved Boothill, you really did, but aeons above did he have a wobbling jaw.

But oh, now you’re getting carried away, aren’t you? The point is, Boothill was the ideal travel companion, even if his snores sounded like a motorcycle being revved up and the two of you would have to play doctor quite a lot with you being the doc’ and him being the patient. 

“My darlin’ doc’,” Boothill liked to call you and you could never object to the affectionate nickname. Not when he’d have the goofiest and most dazed smile on his lips after you’d fixed every little malfunction of his. 

However, nobody’s ever really given some thought to what happens on the rare occasion the doc’ gets sick.

“Holy wubbaboo, was that the sound of Acheron obliteratin’ some poor soul with ‘er blade?” Boothill jumps, his hat nearly falling off upon hearing what sounded like thunder striking down the earth. For a brief second, his hand hovers above his six-shooter before he moves it away with a heavy exhale. There’s no danger. Not here in this little spaceship that you both call home now. 

The cowboy was just about to investigate just what had caused such a noise when the answer revealed itself. You step out of the storage room, bleary eyed and sniffling audibly. Boothill raises an eyebrow and walks closer to you. “Hot diggity fudge, sugar. I never knew yer sneeze was louder than the bombs that exploded on my home planet,” Boothill teases, giving you his signature toothy grin which immediately falters as his onyx eyes drink in the state of you. Normally, you’d have given him a fierce glare by now to let him know the jokes about his trauma were not funny at all (he himself believes they’re the epitome of comedy, thank you kindly). However, that wasn’t the case this time. This time, you looked- well- you looked like shit, for the lack of a better word. 

Your nose was red due to how hard you were sniffling and blowing your nose into a tissue that quite frankly, should’ve been tossed ages ago and despite your best efforts, snot was still dripping from your nose. Your eyes were red and a bit puffy and if Boothill tuned his ears properly, he could hear your breathing was heavier than normal (perks of having augmented senses, if he may say so himself). 

Well, none of those seemed like good signs. Not at all.

“Hey… y’alright, sugar?” Boothill asks, softening his voice to a low rumble when he catches you wincing at his original volume. He takes a tentative step closer and presses the back of his hand against your forehead, the metal refreshingly cool against your skin.

“ ‘M fine… think I might’ve caught something when we were in Talia,” you cough out, wanting nothing more than to just slump against Boothill’s body and let the cold metal soothe your burning flesh.

“Yeah? No kiddin’, yer burnin’ up!” He remarks, frowning when his temperature sensors inform him of your temperature. A whopping 38 degrees! Just the sight of the number had his mother hen instincts kicking into gear.

“Right, c’mon now. Tell me all yer symptoms an’ don’t miss a single thing,” Boothill instructs, almost interrogating really, while his hands rested on your shoulders to steer you towards your bedroom. You sigh internally, resigning yourself to your fate of watching him be the doc’ for once. Maybe it won’t be too bad, assuming he doesn’t forget you’re not a cyborg like him and have no need for reboots and software updates and absolutely will not feel better after chugging gasoline like it’s beer. 

You list off your symptoms while Boothill makes you change into a pair of soft and fluffy pyjamas that you’d once bought when visiting Penacony, the latter nodding to himself with every word and already drawing up a mental list of everything he’d need to do to make sure you’d be in apple-pie order in no time at all. Let’s see… a cold compress, medicine, a fuckton of fruits, chicken noodle soup and of course, an abundance of love and affection.

Initially, you’d been a little wary of leaving things in Boothill’s hands. That’s not to say you don’t trust him, of course! No ma’am! You trust him with your life. But for all his virtues, you couldn’t deny he was a bit… reckless. He was prone to jumping the gun, no pun intended, and was a man who tended to act first before thinking things through. Better safe than sorry, he likes to say. But you really did have to give credit where it’s due. 

When it came to you, Boothill was more than willing to slow down. Hell, he was treating you like you were made of glass! His boisterous personality transformed into something more softer, more quieter. It transformed into something he hid underneath that literal metal shell of his. He was no longer a weapon, ready to take justice into his own hands and mete out punishment the way his principles and beliefs say it should be given. Rather… he was now just a man, a man with so much love to give that it felt as if his heart may burst any moment now.

The cowboy was quick to scamper off to the nearest supply stop from the spaceship and buy enough medication to last several amber eras. You nearly jumped when he dumped the medication onto the bedside table before coaxing you to take a few pills and swallow it down with some water that he was quick to provide. He wasted absolutely no time in stripping you bare and wiping your feverish body down with a cool, wet rag, his every action careful and methodical. 

“Fuck… the towel’s way too cold,” you curse, flinching as the cold and damp fabric brushes against your skin.

“I know, darlin’, I know. But, I swear on mah hat that you’ll be feelin’ a whole lot better after this,” Boothill shushes you gently. He presses kisses to your temple and reassures you that he’s almost done even if he was far from done. Regardless, he wasn’t fibbing when he told you that you’d be feeling a lot better afterwards. Your body felt almost rejuvenated each time he wiped it down with a damp towel.

He certainly wasn’t cutting any corners in making sure you’d recover from your sudden bout of sickness. He stayed by your side, either massaging your achy joints or cutting up fruits and feeding them to you affectionately.

“You do realize that I’m perfectly capable of feeding myself, right?” you sigh, opening your mouth when Boothill presses an apple slice to your lips. He sure knew how to buy his fruit though, you had to admit, biting into the crisp fruit and tasting the sweet juice. Must be due to being brought up on a farm. You could already envision a kind and gentle woman, peeling an apple and cutting it into pieces with a soft smile on her lips, the very same way Boothill was currently doing. 

“Nonsense, darlin’. I ain’t havin’ you overexert yerself,” was Boothill’s easy reply, waiting for you to finish chewing before pressing another apple slice to your lips.

“Feeding myself does not come anywhere near overexerting myself.” “Yeh, well, yer a bit too busy blowin’ yer nose, ain’t ya?” “Shut up- oh eugh, this looks absolutely disgusting,” you grimace, peeking at the tissue you’d just cleaned your nose with.

“Lemme see. Huh…. kinda looks like you, don’t it?” “You don’t say? I was gonna say it looks like your mom.” “Jokes on you. I dunno who mah real mama is.” “Fine then. It looks like whatever mother figure you had.” “Y’know sugar, that joke really doesn’t hit the same when you say it like that.” “Yeah, you’re right.”

All things considered, Boothill was an absolute treasure of a partner to have, especially when you were sick. You didn’t have to worry about him catching whatever bug you had. He didn’t have an organic body anymore so there was nothing that could infect him. Or so you thought. 

You see, while Boothill did his damndest to nurse you back to health, running back and forth between your room and the kitchen to bring you medicine, fruits, chicken noodle soup, the works, you couldn’t help but notice that he was a bit… overbearing. He was constantly checking up on you, peeking through the doorway to make sure you were fine and not coughing up a lung. On several occasions, you catch him stroking your hair and holding your hand as if you were on your deathbed.

It was true, he couldn’t get sick but perhaps it was a foolish mistake to assume it applied for everything. 

Boothill could get sick. He was sick with worry and with fear. Dread coursed through the wires that mimicked veins, trepidation filled the hardware that felt like a cheap copy of a person’s organs and terror gripped every corner of his brain. His traitorous mind replayed the horrific screams and the explosions of cannonfire until he felt as if he could still feel the smoke clawing its way down his throat and feel the ashes from debris and corpses alike clinging to his clothes. 

What if something happened to you? What if this wasn’t just a mere fever but something far more sinister? What if he’s gonna end up being too late once again? What if, what if, what if, what if-

“Boothill.”

Your voice cuts through his train of thought, saving him, albeit temporarily, from the downward spiral he was seconds away from falling into.

“Boothill? Are you…okay?” Onyx eyes look up at you, no longer sharp and alert but tired and wary.

“I… yeah, sugar. I’m jus’ peachy.” “Doesn’t seem like it to me. You realize this is the 5th time in an hour that you’ve tried to make me take more medicine?” The cowboy winces at your words. Perhaps you were being a bit harsh and direct but for a man like him, that was the best medicine you could offer.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” He sighs, sitting down on the edge of your bed.

“I- I’m jus’ worried, sweetheart. Man like me, havin’ seen the things I have, I… I get scared,” Boothill confesses. He felt embarrassed and more than a little silly once he voiced his fears out loud. He notices the way you raise an eyebrow and rushes to explain himself before he made an even bigger fool of himself.

“It ain’t like I think yer fragile, darlin’! Far from it! I know yer tough as nails an’ can hold yer own. I… I know I’m bein’ irrational. I can’t help it. Y’ain’t like me. Yer still human. All flesh an’ bones an’ so… mortal.”

“But it’s just a-” “I know. I know it’s jus’ a fever but the IPC, once upon a time, were jus’ foreign men in black to me.” Your expression softens as Boothill lays his heart bare before you. Behind the rowdy and reckless persona of Boothill was a man long forgotten, even by himself. A man terrified of losing more than what he’d already lost.

“C’mere, you big baby,” you finally sigh, lugging Boothill closer until he was nearly laying on top of you, his ear pressed against your chest. “Tell me: What do you hear?” The cowboy is silent for a while before answering quietly: “I hear yer heart.” “That’s right. You can hear my heart beating and pumping blood through my arteries and veins and all that jazz. What does it mean, that my heart is beating?” “... It means yer alive an’ well.” You smile softly and press a tender kiss to the crown of his head, fingers carding through the snowy tresses.

“Exactly. I’m alive and well and I promise- no, I swear that I will never leave you.” “...Thank you, darlin’.”

…

“Have I ever told ya ‘bout the time I caught the flu?”

“You have not.”

“Well, buckle in, sweetheart. It’s a ride, f’sure. It’s also how I came ta’ learn to make mah famous chicken noodle soup.”

Some illnesses had no cure. Some left their marks, both mentally, and physically. But as you lay in bed, having Boothill regale you with tales of his childhood, you think to yourself that love can help alleviate even the severest of illnesses.

[artbyblastweave]

So to me, an understated aspect of Watchmen is that it deconstructs supervillainy. Without the need for a rotating rogues gallery in the name of endless serialization, wannabe supervillains end up dead, imprisoned, sticking to common profitable crimes, or going straight like Moloch. I think this a missing aspect of other attempts to deconstruct the genre like Marshall Law or the Boys, because if there isn't a threat on the level of the Legion of Doom or Darkseid, then superheroes are just a solution in search of a problem, and if there are supervillains, then the superheroes need to get their shit together. This was also a problem with the League of Extraordinary Gentleman, were told about much of a threat superheroes are, but all they do is lounge around to be marketed, while the League goes out and tackles issues that a superhero could actually help with, such as the aliens from War of the Worlds, actual authoritarians like Big Brother, or even the antichrist.

Hard agree with at least the parts pertaining to Watchmen. Moloch's quivering little "Oh God, I spent the 70s in jail." is such an effective refutation of such a huge number of tropes at once, and hits above its weight in contributing to the sense that Watchmen proper is set well after the party has wound down, so to speak. I really wish that it had made it into any of the adaptations.

My endorsement as this pertains to Marshall Law and The Boys is much more tentative. Marshall Law is simply on my to-read list. The Boys is almost entirely about the idea that superheroes are just a solution in search of a problem, but also doesn't commit to an actual in-universe angle on what supervillains are, or whether they exist at all, in a way that severely limits it's ability to say anything about anything at all; they go from a real issue to which superheroes are framed as a bad solution, to controlled opposition stage-managed by Vought, and it's not a clean transition; as a comic it's concerned with getting in a lot of (decently funny) shots at the meta-editorial level at the expense of being a well-realized world. The show is meaningfully better about this, because the for-profit cultural elevation of "heroes" without a clear-cut exigence is both analogous to several dynamics in contemporary American culture and reflects the cultural idea of the superhero as shaped by the MCU.

As far as League of Extraordinary Gentlemen goes- I only ever got around to the first two volumes. But the entire point of those first two volumes is that the conflicts between heroes and villains are in fact just different groups of monstrous shitheads working at cross-purposes- as is the nature of Victorian great-game politics. The twist at the end of the first volume is that Fu Manchu, while evil, isn't actually meaningfully worse than the people who sic the quote-unquote "heroes" on him- but he is foreign, and thus easier to paint as a legitimate target.

Then, in volume two, individual heroism very pointedly plays a very limited role in the defeat of the Martians. They're driven off Mars to earth in the first place after years of warfare with a guerilla coalition of several other fictional Martian species of note- led but not defined by the efforts of John Carter and Gullivar, and it's ultimately a lukewarm, unsatisfying victory. The League's involvement in the Martian situation actively causes setbacks at first because it puts The Invisible Man in a position to sell out the entire defensive strategy to save his own hide. Nemo is only able to provide an effective stalling action because he's assisted by his sizable crew. Hyde is the only one of the group who gets to do a traditional singular superhero moment, and he's motivated to do it entirely by his overwhelming desire to kill stuff over anything intrinsically heroic, and he dies doing it. And the tide is ultimately turned by black-ops germ warfare perpetuated by the English government, ultimately bringing the entire conflict down to the level of two packs of imperialists taking swings at each other with countless innocents caught in the crossfire.

(Man, I forgot how much I liked Nemo in these, by the way. Had to quickly reread both volumes in order to make sure I wasn't going to be talking out my ass, so thank you for motivating that. What a cool guy.)

[theangryhistoriananna]

Whenever people claim Lucien never cared about Feyre past her connection to Tamlin and then Elain I always wonder if we've read the same books.

Like I can think of a TON of moments that showcase, starting in ACOTAR that Lucien did care for Feyre and considered her a friend but these five especially stick out for me:

But Beron had been part of that alliance, if I correctly recalled my lessons with Rhys all those months ago. "And yet here you are, ready to march with Hybern." "I did it for you, too, you know." Cold, hard words. "I went with him to get you back." "I never realized with a powerful motivator guilt can be." [.....] I said quietly, "Thank you. For coming to Hybern to get me." He pulled at the moss beside him, jaw tight. "It was a trap. What I thought we were to do there....it did not turn out that way." -ACOWAR 30

Lucien unbuttoned his jacket but remained mostly dressed as he slid onto his sleeping roll. "I think it's worse because you two haven't....I mean, you haven't, right?" I stiffened, tugging the blanket higher onto my shoulders. "No. I don't want to be touched like that-not for a while." His silence was heavy-sad. I hated the lie, hated it for how filthy it felt to wield it. "I'm sorry" he said. And I wondered what else he was apologizing for as I faced him in the darkness of our tent. -ACOWAR 56

....It's old magic-old and strange. It's why we avoid bargains unless it's necessary: even the scholars at the Day Court don't know how it works. Believe me, I've asked." "For me-you asked them for me." "Yes. I went last winter to inquire about breaking your bargain with Rhys." "Why didn't you tell me?" "I-we didn't want to give you false hope. And we didn't dare let Rhysand get wind of what we were doing, in case he found a way to interfere. To stop it." -ACOWAR 56

Tamlin had begged my forgiveness at dinner yesterday-and I'd given it to him. But Lucien hadn't spoken to him all evening. -ACOWAR 71

I was running out of borrowed time. I could winnow, but then I'd abandon Lucien to them if he somehow couldn't manage to himself with the faebane in his system from the food at the camp- Leave him. I should and could leave him. But to a fate perhaps worse than death- His russet eye gleamed. "Go" I made my choice. -ACOWAR 91

I often seen the last one used as evidence that Feyre was a good friend to Lucien who didn't deserve it and it always flabbergasts me that people think that from that passage of all passages. That entire scene is mostly just Feyre mentally complaining because stepping in and helping Lucien (who is being SA'd when she finds him and then later is having his life and/or sanity threatened) is causing her to waste time she needs to flee. She keeps telling herself that now that Alis is gone she doesn't need to feel guilty for what happens to Spring Court-including Lucien. She only steps in to protect Lucien from Ianthe because it's Ianthe and her hatred of her is stronger than her empathy for what Lucien went through. She only steps in and decides to stay and fight the twins AFTER Lucien urges her to leave him and save herself.

Lucien again and again and again steps in and protects Feyre, gives her advice, comforts her, argues with Tamlin for her, puts himself in danger for her, gives her presents (despite not getting any in return) and proves himself to be what Rhys told Feyre later in ACOWAR: loyal to a fault.

Not just to Elain, not just to Tamlin, not just the Band of Exiles. But to her as well. To Feyre almost most of all.

and in return Feyre takes his genuine concern for her and protectiveness over her and wields it as a weapon to tear his home down and goad Tamlin into violence with little care. She takes her friend and at best considers him a tool to be used for her and Night Court's benefit and expects him to show her nothing but gratitude.

I do think Feyre loves Lucien and wants him to stay in her life, but honey Lucien was always the better friend.

[mothlillies]

❄️ || ND!Zayne x ND!Reader/MC

---

- Zayne, who understands better than anyone your struggle to fit in with others as he shares the same struggle, even in adulthood.

- Zayne, who ever since childhood, would do anything to protect you from those who would treat you badly because you were "different".

- Zayne, who understands when your social battery is much too low to do anything, he would rather stay in too and spend time with just the two of you anyways.

- Zayne, who never minds if you don't look in his eyes when you talk, he tends not to either.

- Zayne, who becomes a little embarrassed if he develops what he'd consider a "silly" hyperfixation until you reassure him it's okay! (and you inevitably get into it too)

- Zayne, who conversely, never judges any of your interests, treating them all with the utmost sincerety, finding your info dumping calming as he loves listening to your voice and learning new things, it's the best of both worlds for him.

- Zayne, who's systems and routines help you feel more secure, giving you a sense of safety and stability.

- Zayne, who sometimes communicates nonverbally, as do you, the two of you could have an entire conversation that consists of no words.

- Zayne, who does everything he can to comfort you and make you feel safe when the world feels like too much, holding you in his arms and providing a gentle pressure that helps you calm down.

- Zayne, who worries about not being enough for you as the world has him somewhat convinced he's a little less human than most, but you always reassure him he's more than enough, and he believes it when it's you.

- Zayne, who feels uncomfortable unmasking around most people, feels safe doing so around you, and he hopes you feel the same about him.

- Zayne, who's expressions, body language, and tone most have a hard time understanding, you've learned to read like your favorite book, you can tell when he's happy or upset without him even needing to say it.

- Zayne, who's quick to defend you from others, while ignoring comments made about him (which you however, can't ignore).

- Zayne, who above everything makes sure you're taking care of yourself, and takes care of you as much as he can.

- Zayne, who usually flinches away from touch, doesn't mind so long as it's you.

- Zayne, who's got a constant eye on your health, often noticing when you're sick before even you do. Always making sure medical staff listen to your needs and take you seriously.

- Zayne, who finds the taste of something sweet grounding. While he wants to make sure you both have a variety of foods in your diet, he never pushes and always tries to incorporate at least one of your safe foods.

- Zayne, who loves being in the same room as you even if you two never even speak, sitting and working on two entirely different things, just being around you is enough for him.

- Zayne, who when the heat becomes overwhelming for either of you, will use his evol to create something to cool you both down.

- Zayne, who loves you no matter what, every single day. <3

---

A/N: As promised my Zayne post :DD neurodivergent specifically autistic Zayne is so so canon to me, but I figured I should tag it au style just because it's not *technically* canon afaik. As with my last post, I tried to keep it somewhat vague so more people could find comfort in this, but these HCs are based on mine and the people I knows lived experience with neurodivergence so it might not resonate with everyone and I understand that ^^ let me know if you'd wanna see more LI x ND!MC and who specifically!! Sylus and Zayne are my mains so I'm not as confident writing for anyone else, but I'm willing to give it a shot!! Thank you for reading :D

[quasarwake]

Mentor Starscream x Seeker!Reader (31/?) Lore building, backstory, old friends 1300+ words

Ghosts of the past dream of you, sometimes.

Spotlight never felt quite right in his frame- and in his days at the Academy before the civil war, he got no small amount of grief for it. Many other mechs would grow tired quickly of his favourite form of relaxation- gossip and sharing news, discussing the various relationships between teachers and other students, and the faculty the Academy had been exciting. Yet due to his unstable flight... 

He wasn't always so kindly treated.

But. 

At least there was you- Spotlight could still recall the initiation flight, before they had been shuffled off to their suites- stumbling through flight, landing but barely to be mocked by fellow cadets of all size-classes.

And you had been there, watching him carefully, he could feel those optics on him as he flew, and he wondered at first if you were going to join in on taking him out, the quiet little blue mech.

Instead, you took a small jab at the other mech, calling her out on nearly setting off her weapons while trying to transform.

After that, it was history for him. He saw in you a friend, and friend you would become- You let him talk. That was huge, even on its own. But you would also respond, with quiet quips at first, soon turning to fun, playful jabs, sassy statements on the activity of the academy. His bare minimum hope was to be put into a room with a roommate that didn’t hate him. And here you were, somebody that not only made him feel heard, but was somebody he could have fun with.

Somebody that saw more in him than his mistakes.

It was peaceful. You warmed his spark and made him feel listened to.

‘Choplight’ was what some had called him in flight- he had a habit of stalling and stuttering, his nose turning downwards without meaning as he would try to pick up speed, dangerous things he had to correct for, sometimes overcorrecting and simply shooting into the sky. Maybe if there had been time to actually train himself into a proper Jet Seeker, he could have shown everyone- but there he was, working twice, no, three times as hard and still only being seen as half as good. One instructor with wide dark wings would berate him endlessly for it- and while Spotlight harbored his little crush on Sunstorm, there was something to be said about how backhandedly validating it was, to receive even the smallest bits of praise from his original.

Starscream, as an instructor, at least could see how badly Spotlight wanted to fly. Seeing the two of you roomed together, arguably his best and worst fliers, perhaps there had been hope that you would be able to lift him up- and there had been progress. Starscream encouraged you to take Spotlight flying-

And honestly, he made you feel listened to as well. The quiet of the Quintesson retreat had given a rare moment of peace for all of you, and this yellow mech that could barely keep himself level in flight always seemed to be bringing the most interesting gossip.

It was something he did with you, even before things went to hell. It wasn’t something he needed to think nearly as much about when you were flying with him. When Spotlight flew with you, there was no doubt in his processor that you would end up being the top of the class- good in flight, suited to your wings as they were, and not only that? You worked for it. So many of the best fliers knew they were good, and didn’t care to become better- but you didn’t just want to be good, you wanted to be seen, maybe just as badly as he himself ached to be heard. It may have been partly for Starscream’s attention, but just because he was no Sunstorm didn’t mean that it didn’t clearly push you to do better-

And maybe some mechs needed that. Maybe you needed that, and maybe Spotlight needed to see that in you just as much. Sometimes, we don’t understand how to make ourselves grow without a little bit of outside help.

And he would have so liked to grow with you, discover all of the ways you could fly together, mismatched frame or no.

Until it all went to Hell, that is.

Was it a direct Iacon attack on Vos? Was it retaliation for some Vosian slight? A bomb planted? A shooting? A curly straw and a knocked over glass of energon?

All of the information Spotlight had gathered after the fact had been jumbled, and many bots that he wished he could have asked were…

Missing.

Unable to contribute to the greater picture of what happened.

So it wasn’t too off the cuff that for all this time, he had no information on if you were alive. It was a marvel in and of itself that he’d only lost an arm in the building collapse, taken in by a mech that had only been visiting Vos for a conference- a medical mech by the name of Ratchet. From there, it was a whirlwind of being patched up, getting an arm replaced-

And eventually joining the Autobots.

It felt strange, seeing nearly all of his surviving neighbors on the other side. Like seeing a dark reflection of the community he’d been regularly denied anyways. After he’d seen the cruelty of Megatron against the group that had saved him, though, his mind was made up-

He’d heard all kinds of stories about the Decepticons.

Restrictive. More loosely militaristic than the Autobots’ rigid structure. Chaotic, with no structure past the higher command. Mechs made to order and made of the melted living metal that had been fallen Autobots-

Horror stories.

Things that he’d heard about some factions of Autobots hadn’t been much better.

Spotlight knew enough about the war to know that it was being drawn out artificially- the factions on either side grown tired over kilovorns. To their credit, it wasn’t always the rivalry between Megatron and Optimus Prime that seemed to push it onwards- sometimes, there were those out there as powerful and more crafty than Megatron turning the wheel, stoking the flames and causing resounding ripple effects across the universe. Sometimes, it was somebody more gentle than Optimus-

Terrifyingly coddling. Authoritative.

Functionist.

But Spotlight had been given the chance to see the side that would, if it could, save him-

So when the Transformers from both factions found themselves on Earth, it was with an Autobot insignia standing bright on his shoulder that he took the plunge. Neutrality didn’t suit him, and at least the bots he was with were good. In the end, it was Ratchet that made his mind up- Ratchet, who had saved him, and in his own personal ‘neutrality’, had chosen the side that he believed would save the most lives. And eventually, others on the team made him feel…

Welcomed. Accepted. Especially after he’d scanned a new form for flight-

His frame had settled, his wings had cracked in relief-

Splitting as though freed from a mold, they had rested against his back in flexible blades. His canopy was larger, but pushed upwards, allowing movement of his waist, he was springier.

It was like all he’d had to do was take on a new form, and there, he’d feel like himself properly.

And it made him realise just how much he wanted to show you.

It wasn’t fun, and it wasn’t safe, and it wasn’t contentment he felt-

Because even on a planet so different from Cybertron, he thought of you.

The sky really was your colour here, and not just like when bright spheres passed by the sunless Cybertron-

Every clear sunny day he would look out and remember Academy days with you. Sometimes he would climb into that blue, his blades quieter and his frame faster than any Terran heli should be.

He’d fly. And imagine what it would feel like, to fly with you, when he was finally in a body that suited him.

Pleased to really properly debut an old friend- thought long gone. Rats and I have been talking about Spotlight for a really long time, so it's nice to finally have him here proper! Thank you again @radioactiverats for letting me play in this sandbox .))))))

Prev/Next

[starmaker-astral]

Ok we all need to sit and listen.

We need to see this scene (yes, this one) from another angle.

In case you hadn't thought about it, in the last fifteen, we can understand that Aziraphale and Crowley are being watched (by Metatron, most likely through the bookshop windows). Aziraphale knows that and tries to make Crowley understand.

Now, let's talk about how some of Aziraphale's actions/phrases just sound wrong, and not just the mouthing he does earlier, but specifically this moment :

This moment is important because so many people heavily misunderstood Aziraphale here.

It's not "Aziraphale" who speaks, it's "Aziraphale being observed and being forced to play a role" who speaks.

I thought the horribly articulated and obviously exaggerated "work with meee..." line was pretty obvious (it's the most notable one anyway), and the fake excitement doesn't fool anyone with his frantic movements, darting eyes, anxious body language etc... But far too many people are spitting on Az by saying that it was horrible to say that to Crowley and that he didn't really understand him so we need to rethink everything.

Here's what happened, a tangle of double messages :

🟣 Az playing a role because he is being watched

🟠 Az speaking honestly/by himself

"Crowley, Crowley come back to Heaven. Work with meeee... We can be together, angels ! Doing good ! .... I need you ! .... I don't think you understand what I'm offering you. (<both 🟣🟠)

By how Aziraphale acts, breathes and furtively looks elsewhere between his sentences, we notice that he is anxious, under pressure.

IT IS painful for Az to talk like that, to say those horrible things to Crowley and at the same time having to think FAST to know what to say, to do and try to make Crowley understand what is happening.

He tries to balance between what he wants/needs to say to Crowley and what he is forced to do, against his will. And he tries to make Crowley understand this by acting strangely. Because Crowley knows Aziraphale, he knows when something is wrong with him.

This scene is not (entirely) a miscommunication issue, they were not safe, and Az, at the moment of Crowley's declaration was terrified that Metatron could hear this (and who would understand they love eachother, which would be terrible), the need to act FAST and the pressure of being observed.

They had TWO CONVERSATIONS AT THE SAME TIME. (In the entire scene of the last fifteen, not only here, but it would be very long to decypher every line in 1 post)

Aziraphale tries to keep a facade (smiling, enthousiast) because of being watched by the Metatron, but this whole conversation is breaking him inside (worried, scared, lonely)

Here's what I understood here, with Crowley's part and how he came to understand that they, both of them, had to quickly play a role against Metatron:

- Come back to heaven... Work with meeee... (I don't mean it) We can be together, angels ! Doing good !.... I need you ! (Don't leave me alone)... I don't think you understand what I'm offering you (We are not safe to say what we want right now, please tell me you understood)

- I understand. (Ok I got it now) [Pause] And I understand a lot better than you do (confirmation he understood he has to find a way out of here for them both to be safe)

- Well. Then there is nothing more to say (Okay, we're on the same page now and we can follow up with something to definitely fool Metatron and work together in secret)

Rewatch the scene knowing that, it's something else entirely and Aziraphale's anxiety is crippling.

And it makes that scene even worse : it's rushed, messy and frustrating because it shouldn't have happened that way.

They weren't safe at that time, they couldn't act as they wanted.

Of course, the whole Nightingale part the "I forgive you/Don't bother" etc... is heartbreaking. But isn't that another role played? (The kiss was honest tho) Something to fool Metatron? To make him believe that Az no longer has any ties to Earth/Crowley and therefore will be obedient and not considered a threat in Heaven?

Crowley told Azirpahale that he understood, and from that moment, a "breakup" game is played. (I still believe that this is all rushed, that Crowley is deeply hurt by his rushed declaration, that couldn't be made normally, and the horrible separation they have to go through because they have no other choice. Separated by the system and how it works.)

They had to play two different roles during this crisis situation, and Crowley's declaration made things even messier and risky.

They are all alone now, on separate sides, for the first time. But they hadn't any other choice for them both to be safe.

We could also talk about Azirphale's "random" gestures and mouthing earlier, before warning Crowley about Metatron's offer, trying to make Crowley understand the problem.

Metatron's offer (disguised obligation, see the "give me coffee or give me death" coffee metaphore : Take the coffee (my offer) or it will be death for you and your demon

"Whats that lovely human expression ?" (He never says thing like that, he use those "human expression" words to fool the Metatron into believing that Az doesn't know humanity very well while he actually does) "Hold that thought !" (Please don't say that. We are in danger let me speak)

Aziraphale looking away (at the window, nervous)

Az cant focus on Crowley's speech because they know they are in danger and Metatron should hear that Crowley loves Az or it would be worse

But that's another subject to explore further for next time ✨️

[demonslayedher]

Things that went through my head while watching this episode (in 2025!)

--This episode exists in this format because somebody at Ufotable probably said, "You know what this series needs more of? Tengen's legs."

--That being said, two things I don't really like that I'm gonna just put out there: 1. I don't like seeing how beefy Tanjiro is, and 2. Ufotable is really hit and miss with filler. This one, which is mostly filler, has parts that work for me and parts that I think would have worked better if they were reigned in a bit.

--Okay, to come straight out with the point they wanted to make at the end of this episode (and in just about every other trying-to-add-personality-to-the-mob filler bit in this season), the other Corp members know that they aren't capable of defeating Upper Moons, let alone Kibutsuji Muzan. However, they are filled with hope that people like the Hashira and Tanjiro can, and they will do their best to get stronger so that they can support them.

--...Okay.

--First off, I am fine taking that at face value. That is a valid point to make in a series like this. In the end, many of them will make good on their commitment to their shared goal by sacrificing themselves to save those who have the real capacity for accomplishing the goal. They are, as Tanjiro has so often reiterated, bound by each other's wills, and pushed forward by the wills of many people.

--Also, it is a shonen. I am not going to read into this saying that harsh training in a short period would have just tired them out before the big battle. They're fine. Each and every one of these Corp members has clawed their way here with determination, commitment, and enough strength to break my arm bones in one hand alone. I wholeheartedly accept the storytelling premise that they have all benefited from this grueling training and that they will all come out stronger because of it, even if that does not mean they will be of the same caliber as those with more Gotouge-given talent.

--But gosh, dang it, Ufotable, did you have to be so heavy-handed with it!??

--There were hints leading up to that "I know I can't do it, but I believe you guys can! And I'm gonna do my best to support you!" declaration at the end, but gee whiz, I wish it could have been handled with more grace.

--As for what I think worked in this filler, Tengen's outright disgust with Corp members talking about getting out of training. These guys are committed--just as much as anybody who was driven to the Corp for more than money or (within a secret organization) glory--but Tengen can only see the gap between their commitment and that of Hashira who have trained to the point of spitting blood. He cannot see beyond that gap. And that is why there is some satisfaction in the "I can't do this, but I'm going to get stronger to help you guys anyway" ending. Tengen needed some hope restored in them.

--This is something I really like about the Hashira Training Arc--it was, for both the Hashira and the regular Corp members, a chance to get to know each other better and care about each other, and feel united in a common goal. This, after it has been so commonplace for the Hashira to seem like an organization all their own, with the others all just dragging on their heels. Until very recently, it was easy to just complain about the poor quality of the other Corp members, because the Hashira cannot see beyond that gap. It is like the curse of knowledge--once you know something well, you often cannot remember what it was like to not know it, so this can make you impatient with people who haven't got it yet. It makes it easy to overestimate others. These other Corp members have been saviors to so many people, but all it takes is one demon to end all that. And the Hashira have seen that too many times, and it colors their view of these very powerful people who have all been doing their best.

--More on that in the following episode, which I think improves on this a bit more

--Because this episodes is basically fan service

--Because we all like seeing Tengen's legs, right

--Because we all like seeing Tanjiro just hanging out and having domestic time with the girlies, who finally have gotten to process their new life and what they all went through on Yoshiwara

--Not that they have bothered to remember Zenitsu and Inosuke's names, but I'm sure they served them tea too and made sure to thank them (whether or not Zenitsu has any idea what he did, who knows)

--But that being said, this probably the first time Tanjiro and Uzui have seen each other since that battle, and Tengen's assessment of him and how he has grown--both in what he says to Tanjiro right away and what he thinks to himself during the fanservice mock-battle on the mountain is so satisfying, both for Tengen himself and for everyone who has been rooting Tanjiro on. So happy for Tengen that he gets to feel that he has contributed to the future of the Corp, despite his retirement.

--But, I love that flick of his eyepatch, dang, how satisfying

--Though it feels like Tengen does have a part of him who wishes to still be fighting (especially when he appears to find these Corp members unreliable and says how he'll look bad (to his former peers) if he sends them in such poor condition), Hinatsuru, Makio, and Suma are all loving this new peaceful life and I am so happy for them.

--Now, having seen this in Toho Cinema with the short bit of them having bad movie-going etiquette because they just don't know any better, I looooove the idea of them all going out and doing things like going to the cinema for the first time. But, seeing as they were all essentially raised in a cult, they just don't understand some normal society stuff. Sure, they could work their way around the nighttime society of Yoshiwara because it was work and being ninja means infiltrating in order to spy, but even in their hobbies like going to hidden onsen and even in their chosen location for this training, they are still isolated from society, because that is what they know. I would looooove to see them be like, "Hey, have you heard of these things called 'caa-fei'? Tengen-sama, let's go to a 'caa-fei.' How do we dress for those? Do we need to wear Western-style dresses? Tengen-sama, how do we get those? Oh! Oh!! We can try that thing!! In those big buildings! Sho... that's right! 'Shopping spree!'" (Tengen probably knows how to handle large amounts of money and Hinatsuru can handle small purchases like groceries and supplies, but I'll bet Makio and Suma have no money-related sense because they just haven't needed to deal with it.)

--Okay now as for the other filler I think is working here

--It is a little heavy-handed, yes, but I do enjoy the scene with the two Corp members on patrol. Yes, it is a lot of exposition, but at least they just get to be normal dudes about it expressing what is normal to them. Corp life is normal to them now, they hate and fear demons and it gets pretty routine but they do take their work seriously. And like, if the Kamaboko boys get to be goofballs, these guys deserve to be goofballs too.

--And, frankly, letting them be goofballs is the best way for us to bond with them.