youngerfrankenstein · 10 months ago
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mikubilliards · 1 year ago
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If we accept it, we will be free.
To be cringe is to be oneself
And to be oneself is to be free
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blithesrps · 6 months ago
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Bedtime Story
“Alright runts, c’mere…”
Leona flopped back into the stuffed chair of his study, waiting as his gaggle of kiddos clambered up into his lap. Bed time stories were usually Ruggie’s area of expertise, but with his team advancing in the national Spelldrive Cup and Ara working late at the castle, tonight the heavy responsibility fell upon him.
“Oi, sit still…what are you jumpin’ around for?” Leona grumbled, Gigi giggling as he wiggled a knuckle into her ribs to settle her into his arm. At his other side Falla was waiting patiently, the perfectly well behaved first born that had tricked them into thinking parenting would be a piece of cake. Meanwhile, the babies, Kana and Ton, were working on hauling themselves into Leona’s lap. Kana whined as Falla tried to help, but soon all four were cuddled up and ready.
“Now, don’t expect any funny voices like your Papa does, alright?” Leona warned, eying the book that Gigi had picked out, “If You Give A Mouse A Cookie?… you sure you guys don’t want to play chess instead?”
“Noo!” Gigi squealed, as Kana and Ton parroted little ‘no no!’ chirps after her.
“Yeah, four against one ain’t fair anyway, you’d probably kick my butt,” he relented, scratching his jaw over Falla’s head as he flipped the book open, “Alright…”
He did his best, he really did, but the book was nonsense.
“…what kind of garbage are they writing for kids these days…” he grumbled, “Tryin’ to teach you all how to be pushovers, is that it?”
“Nuh uh!” Gigi agreed, shaking her golden curls as Falla studied the pages solemnly. Leona turned the page.
“Gods, he wants to draw now? What kind bullshit…”
“Bullshit?”
“Sheet?”
“Boo shit?”
“…boo shit…”
“Oh fu…uhhh, nope that’s a daddy word,” Leona tried to backpedal quickly, but he could already see the twins’ impish expressions that only meant trouble, “Ughhh…okay, listen, just not in front of your mother alright?”
“Hmm?” Ara’s voice purred from over Leona’s shoulder and he about jumped out of his skin, jolting the children and setting them all off giggling again.
“Hello my little ones. Is your father teaching you terrible things again?” Ara teased as she came around the chair. She caught Gigi as she launched herself at her mother, the twins squealing and throwing themselves into her stomach while Falla took advantage of the opportunity to snuggle closer to her father.
“I was framed,” Leona huffed, closing the book with relief and tossing it over his shoulder.
“Bullshit,” whispered Falla.
“Bullsheet!” cheered Gigi.
“Boo shit,” agreed the twins.
“Bullshit indeed,” hummed Ara, feigning disappointment as Leona winced. She went to pick up the book before coming to sit herself in Leona’s lap, “As punishment for his transgressions, I think your father had better finish the story.”
“You trying to crush me alive?” he grunted, even as his free arm looped around Ara’s waist and squeezed her hip.
“Big strong lion like you can handle it,” she scoffed, juggling her armful of babies until they were all settled safe and snug in her arms, “Now, start again. From the beginning.” Leona gave a dramatic sigh but thumbed open the book obediently. Far be it from him to deny his wife…or his children, for that matter.
“If you give a mouse a cookie, he’ll probably want a glass of milk…”
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pinustree · 1 year ago
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head in hands
new Bluey oc: Dino Red
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parfaitblogs · 1 month ago
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fresh out the slammer ❀ s. reid x reader
in which spencer reid comes home from prison, and needs to fulfil everything he has missed about you. 
pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: smut & comfort (18+ mdni) tags: post prison!reid. soft dom!spencer. teeth might rot i was cringing during some of this. established relationship. the briefest of breast play because what do i hate? the word nipple! fingering. p in v. no protection is mentioned but imagine what you will. casual nudity afterwards. spencer's got bruises from prison. i lowkey forgot about his thigh wound until the very end.  word count: 5.7k a/n: there's a completely different version of me in a world where i didn't write this. i hope she's doing well. i feel like i've been reborn. this is stupidly long LOL my apologies. pleaseee tell me if you liked this! or if you didn't! i love feedback! here's my monthly smut fic see you all in october!
Three months wasn't a long time, in the grand scheme of things. A quarter of a year usually went by too quickly for anybody's liking, the year sprinting through seasons until all twelve months were complete, and you were repeating it all over again. Usually. Three months without Spencer Reid, however, went by achingly slowly. And you hadn't originally considered just how agonising they could be. 
Each day was another painful mirror of the last, waking up and going to bed with the same sense of dread in your stomach, oftentimes swallowing you whole and leaving you unable to do just about anything at all. 
Living life without Spencer Reid was hard.
You saw him — of course you did. Despite his original efforts to keep you off the approved visitors list, Penelope Garcia had seen one glimpse of your heart shattered expression upon being told, and marched her way to the prison to slap sense into him. You weren't sure if that was metaphoric or not. 
However, seeing him once every other week and living with him were two very different situations. You hadn't realised just how much you had depended on him always being there when you woke up in the morning until you were waking up to cold bed sheets and a pillow clutched petulantly to your chest in hopes of recreating the warmth only Spencer could provide. 
And then he was free. 
From prison, that is. You hadn't heard it all — information about his time in prison had been kept from you in an attempt to protect your own peace of mind. But you knew from at least the bruises he was always sporting no matter when you went to visit him, that something awful had happened to him in there, and his own brain would keep him imprisoned for as long as it wished. 
But he was free.
And he was here, and you were staring up at his face littered with unkempt facial hair and a head of untreated curls, and regardless of everything horrific he had endured brewing behind his eyes, he was staring at you with the same softness he had before any of this happened. 
Despite the beginning of a protest when you wrapped your arms around his torso, you hugged him, and he hugged you, and even the faintest smell of grime and blood couldn't stop you from gripping onto him with so much force you thought your knuckles would break. 
"You're real," you whispered into his chest, muffled by it, and it shook beneath your face as he laughed, quietly. Beautifully.
"I am," he answered, and you could feel him crushing his own facial features into the top of your head, no doubt inhaling your shampoo. "You're real."
"Yes," you confirmed with a nod.
Maybe hours passed, perhaps only minutes. Whichever it was, you were still reluctant to pull away from him until he did, your face stained with tear streaks you don't remember shedding, his own eyes glassy as your gazes met. 
"You don't want to talk about it, do you?" you asked him, walking backwards as you led him out of the doorway you two had been finding solace in, and further into the apartment space you were ecstatic to share together again. 
"Not particularly," he answered, strides catching up to you and encasing your waist between his hands, tugging your body closer to his own. "Is that okay?"
"As long as you promise not to keep it in," you replied, teeth chewing into your lower lip in a contemplative habit. 
"I have counselling at work," he said, and you nodded, your facial features softening only a little — you knew him well enough to know he wouldn't enjoy said counselling sessions. Breath tickled your lips as he leaned in a little closer, inciting heat onto your cheeks. "Any other questions?"
"No," you replied, your own lips twitching in amusement. "That's it. Why?"
"Because I haven't kissed you in three months," he murmured, "and I want to."
"Maybe," you said with a hum, and he said your name chidingly, eliciting a laugh from you. "Yeah. Okay."
To be honest, you had spent a few too many nights allowing your thoughts to wander and end up dreaming about what it would be like to kiss him again. Whether or not either of you would have the patience to be gentle and kind to one another. In those nights, you had decided you would be. Your heart cracking every time you thought of Spencer alone in a concrete cell that it left you with a gaping hole in your chest. All you really wanted was to hold him and remind him how adored he was. 
Right now, you learned you wouldn't be. 
There was a tenderness in the way his hands found your cheeks to cup, and there was a softness in his fingertips against your skin. Yet, everything he kissed with was anything but. Feverish and quick, swallowing you whole and inspiring a spark in your chest that resulted in you kissing back just as hungry. 
Just when you thought there was nothing left to trigger within him, a squeak left your lips as the result of him tugging you impossibly closer, and he was beginning to walk you backwards, even further into the apartment, his kiss growing all consuming. 
"Spencer," you said, breathlessly, jerking your head back, staring at him, waiting for him to realise you weren't returning your lips to his, and his eyes opened. 
"What?" he asked, almost irritatedly. When he watched the slight flicker of hurt flash on your face at the tone, his own expression became gentler. "I'm sorry. Is something wrong?"
Immediately, you shook your head. "No. I just wanted to check how far you wanted to go," your hands travelled up to his hair, fingers scratching gently against his scalp. "I know there's a lot going on up here."
"Actually, right now it's just you," he said, tilting a head to the side to lean into one of your palms. "It's mostly you all the time. But right now you're consuming it."
"I make such an impact on your life," you quipped. 
"I know you're teasing, but you do," he replied, fingers tracing up and down either side of your jawline, eyes searching each small detail on your face he had no doubt already memorised. "I survived in there for you."
"Oh."
Probably not the most eloquent response for the things he had just confessed, but truly your brain had scrambled within an instant, and you weren't sure what to say.
"Sorry," he said, hands stilling on your face. "To answer your question, I don't know. I really missed you."
"I know," you said when a gaping silence followed his words. "We don't have to."
"I think I want to."
Your eyebrows furrowed. "You can't think, Spence. You've gotta know."
"I've definitely said that to you before," he chided, thinking for a moment, before, "yes. I did. First time we had sex."
"Sue me for repeating important sexual advice to you, Spencer Reid," you huffed. He laughed. 
"No, I mean, I do. Want to," he finally replied. "I'm really scared of hurting you."
"Do you want to hurt me?"
"No."
"Then you won't," you reassured him, despite knowing whatever doubt he had in himself would not be resolved just like that, and it'll probably eat at his mind for a long while. "And even if you do, I won't be upset with you." When his face scrunched and his expression mirrored judgement, you stammered to clarify. "Not in a kinky way. Don't look at me like that, Spencer. Stop it. I just meant I'll understand. And I won't be mad."
"Didn't take you to be into masochism," he mumbled, and you groaned at his selective hearing, dropping your forehead to his shoulder, that shook with his laughter. "Kidding, honey. I know what you mean."
"Not funny."
"It was a little," he countered, a hand reaching up to entangle within your hair to pull your head back, gently, so he could look at you again. 
"Hi," you said when your eyes locked once more. 
"Hello," he answered, his lips pulling into a smile. "I'd like to kiss you again."
"You've used up your kiss for the day, actually," you replied, sweetly beaming up at him. 
"Quiet," he shot back, leaning forwards and allowing his lips to brush hesitantly against yours, eyes searching your own with an added hint of desperation. "Please?"
You pretended to think for a moment too long, because he was already mumbling something that sounded a little like 'brat', and pressed his mouth to yours once more. 
You couldn't complain. 
It was the same intensity as earlier, and yet there was something in it that differentiated the homesickness of the kiss from then, and the desperation now. Large hands — that you would probably allow to encase you whole — pathetically held your face lightly, hips knocking with yours as he walked you backwards and up against the back of the couch. 
"Spence," you whimpered embarrassingly, hands clawing at the sleeves of his suit jacket, trialling and failing at tugging it off his body. 
"I got you, sweet girl," he mumbled against your lips, not breaking the kiss for even a second as he helped you, shrugging the jacket off and allowing it to fall to the floor — something he will certainly chastise himself for later. 
"Bedroom," you said, in between heavy breaths and feverish kisses. A request he was more than happy to comply to, for he had nodded, and you were instantaneously tugging on one of his hands in the direction of the room, his eyes fixated on your body as he trailed behind. 
"Missed you so much," he murmured as he tugged you back towards him the second he had kicked the door shut, lips finding the corner of your mouth, then your jawline, then your neck, as he kissed down you. 
"So you've said," you breathed out, tilting your head to the side as he gently nipped at the skin. 
"Do you get off on being mean to me?" he chided, lifting his head to look at you again, and your heart stuttered. 
"No. Just that dominance act that it brings out," you murmured, attempting to keep the mood light. Successfully so, for air huffed out of his nose as his lips twitched, fingers that had dropped to your waist squeezing it gently. In unresolved doubt, you added, "I missed you too. Don't worry."
"I'm not," he replied, and the weight lifted off your shoulders. "Lie down."
"So demanding," you teased, though his tone was anything but firm.
You were met with an unimpressed look, and you merely grinned back as you climbed onto the bed, sitting cross legged atop it, staring up at him expectingly.
Instead of moving over you like you had expected, he crouched at the foot of the bed, holding his hands out on the mattress in front of you. Needing no more than the simple gesture, you untangled your legs and stretched them out in front of you, and he tugged you down towards the end of the bed, breath hitting the skin of your thighs deliciously. 
"I'm supposed to be making you feel good," you argued when his fingers trailed up the sides of your legs, finding the waistband of your pyjama shorts.
"Why?" he questioned, halting his movements as he searched your face. 
"Because you're the one who just got out of prison," his face scrunched at the verbal reminder. "Sorry. But... yeah. I have thought about making you come the day you got home like daily."
"Oh have you?" his eyebrows shot up, and it was then that your brain caught up to your running mouth, and your cheeks heated up. 
"Nope. Forget I said anything."
"No," he pushed himself up from the floor, moving his body over yours on the bed, successfully forcing you to lie back. "Tell me those thoughts."
"Spencer," you moaned, shaking your head as you buried your face into your hands, that he was a little too quick to catch and pry away. 
"I'm not going to judge you," he said, amused. "In fact, I aspire to know every single thought there is up in that pretty head of yours. Especially the ones about me. Please tell me."
"I just thought about making you come. There's nothing more exciting to it."
"Yes, but how?" 
"My mouth, I guess," you mumbled, voice going impossibly quiet. "I don't know."
"You're acting like you have never given me oral," he said, catching your gaze within milliseconds of you averting it, thumb and forefinger straightening your head again. 
"Nobody says oral, Spencer. Say head," your own face now scrunched up. 
"Lots of people say oral," he defended. 
"Yeah, old people. We are not old people."
"Fine, you're acting like you have never given me head." 
Despite it being a jab at him to take the heat off of you, the phrase coming out from his lips sounded exceptionally vulgar for what it was, and it only resulted in your stomach flipping. 
Finally, you regained some control over your own thoughts, and you found it in you to reply. "That's what I want to do. Because I want to make you feel good."
"You underestimate how much I gain from making you feel good," he countered, fingers lazily caressing the skin of your jaw as his eyes studied your face with an intensity that had your stomach flipping. 
"It cannot be as good as an orgasm," you huffed, stubbornly so. 
He nipped at your nose. "It is."
"Can we compromise?" 
"So you don't want me to give you oral?" his eyebrows rose. 
In every other situation, you would not be fighting him on this. In fact, he would probably have already gotten his foreplay of teasing and teetering you on the edge out of the way by now, and you'd be well and truly content. However, the forefront of your mind was still plagued by how little time Spencer had to take care of himself, and the last thing you needed him to be was at your service. Despite his protests. 
"Head," you corrected. "And no."
He searched for remnants of a lie for a few beats longer, before he nodded his head, giving in. "What's your compromise, honey?"
"I don't think there's a sexy way to say to just put it in me," you said, and his lips curled up into an amused smile, followed by a huff of laughter. 
"No, I don't think there is," he agreed. "I do think anything you say can be sexy, though."
You pulled a face, and you shook your head. "No. Don't say that ever again either."
"I can't compliment you, I can't give you ora—head," he rattled off. "Is there anything good I get out of this?"
"You get to fuck me?" you batted your eyelashes up at him. 
"Such vulgar language," he chastised, ducking his head when a hand of yours rose to swat him. 
Despite himself, his head had dropped to the crook of your neck, and he had begun placing feather like kisses along the skin that distracted you just enough to drop your hand back to the mattress beneath you.
Any other day, and you'd probably still be bickering with him until the minute he made you come. However, three months without even the faintest of touches from him left you overwhelmed with everything he did to you, and so the gentle kisses trailing down to the collar of your shirt were enough to destroy any coherent thoughts you could have. 
Cautiously, and with a touch so delicate, Spencer lifted your — his — shirt up your abdomen, fingertips leaving behind the warmest of trails as they skimmed along your skin. One quiet whine from you was all it took for him to hurry his teasing along, and soon enough your shirt was discarded. 
A quiet, sharp inhale of air was the other sound aside from your quickened breathing, and you felt tears sting your vision as another kiss was placed just below your now exposed collarbone. 
The time without you seemed to weigh nothing in his mind as he took every inch of you in separately, lips mapping out your body like it was the first time all over again, though still knowing exactly when to pause and pay attention to for the sweetest of sounds to be ripped from your throat. 
He liked to hear you. 
Fingers found your waist as his lips kissed down your sternum, then back up and over until they reached your nipple. He spent time on each breast, ignoring your impatient whining as he neglected the rest of you for a few minutes too long (in your opinion).
"Spencer," you scolded, and it was all it took for him to accept you were not in the mood to wait, and for him to decide he wasn't either. 
"Sorry, honey," he replied, voice impossibly soft as he returned his lips to your face, a kiss pressed to the corner of your mouth as his fingers found your shorts again. "Can I take these off?"
"I think we're incredibly out of balance," you replied. And though there wasn't really anything wrong with the sentence — you had certainly said it before — he still pulled back, an unrecognisable grey clouding his eyes. "What?"
"I want to keep my shirt on," was his response, the words inciting confusion to your face. 
"What? Why?"
"Do I need a reason?"
You wanted to scream that yes, he did. But did he? Wordlessly, you shook your head, but it didn't help the pang of worry in your chest. 
"Unless there's something like an embarrassing tattoo, I'm not going to judge you," you decided to say instead. "Did you get an embarrassing tattoo in prison?"
"No," he shook his head, and you were comforted by the amusement in his tone. "I didn't have the best time in prison."
"I know," you replied.
"And I wasn't very liked. By the men in there."
You knew that too, to an extent. You knew the bruises on his face weren't self inflicted. "You're liked by me."
"I know, sweet girl," a heart shatteringly sad smile stretched across his face as a hand lifted to your cheek. "It just isn't very pretty. And I don't want you to worry."
Well, now you were. Regardless, you nodded your head, turning your head to the side so you could kiss the palm of the hand on your face. "I won't worry, then."
"I want to keep my shirt on. Can that please be okay with you?" 
Silently, and after a debate inside your brain, you nodded your head. Gratefully, he pecked your lips once more, before his focus shifted back to you and your body. 
"Shorts. Can I take them off?" he asked, again.
"Yes."
"Thank you."
His fingers collected the fabric of your shorts' waistband, and gently pulled them down your legs, cool air washing over you despite the final leftover article of clothing on your body. You shivered, and you could hear him mumbling nearly incoherent apologies as he kissed your stomach.
"These too?" he then asked, eyes flickering between your face for confirmation, and the pair of underwear you still had residing on your body. You nodded your head, and he pulled them down too.
You do not remember a time ever fearing being naked beneath Spencer Reid's gaze, and that did not change even now, as an arguably different man drank in your entire body, the love he had for you not having wavered despite the passing of time. 
And you certainly did not fear the way one of his hands slid up your leg, seemingly soothingly, until it teetered on the edge of too far up the limb to be innocent, and he was intensely watching your face for every reaction you could possibly make. 
Achingly gently, his middle finger ran up the centre, collecting arousal you hadn't realised was there and knuckle gently bumping your clit, eliciting a quiet mewl from you. You watched him smile at the sound, dragging his finger back down, gathering more of your arousal until he was pushing the finger in.
Your eyes fluttered shut, the feeling oh so familiar, and yet seemingly foreign all at once. Too long, you decided then. Three months is too long.
Leaning back down, his lips brushed your jawline, the otherwise odd sensation of there being something — someone — inside of you balancing out with the pleasure that came from the comfort of it being him. And of course the delicate circles his thumb had begun to draw on your clit. 
"Did you do this while I was in prison?" he asked you, lips moving against your skin. 
"Touch myself?" 
"Mhm."
"Yeah," you said, voice breathless. "Was never good, though."
"No?" he asked, curling his finger inside of you and tugging a louder moan from your throat. "Why not?"
"Just never felt as nice. Not like you."
"Oh. I'm sorry, angel," he murmured, pulling his lips away so he could look at you again. Though, your eyes were still planted shut. "I'll make up for it then, yeah?"
You feverishly nodded your head, and he laughed. Fulfilling his promise, he sped up the motions of his finger and thumb, your hands grabbing ahold of fistfuls of the sheets, in hopes that it will provide some comfort from the overwhelming feeling of Spencer touching you again. 
"Can I add another finger?" he asked, and though slightly hesitant, you nodded your head. 
He waited a beat longer before fulfilling your request, and there was something obscene about how easily another finger entered you. Though, Spencer thought it was pretty, and your back arching was pretty, and yes, he had missed this and he had missed you and he was biting his tongue from telling you that all over again. 
"Spencer," a delicately breathy whine left your lips when the heel of his palm collided with your clit — thumb long forgotten once he had gotten distracted with thrusting fingers in and out of you. 
"Hm?"
Your eyes fluttered open to meet his, the kindest smile on his face reminding you just how much he adored you, and your heart sporadically beat in your chest. When you didn't say anything else, he quickened his ministrations, eliciting more whines and moans.
"Is two orgasms too much for tonight?" he asked you, the question seemingly innocent regardless of both it's undertones, and what he was currently doing to you. 
In hindsight you should've probably said yes. It most certainly would've hurried things along to something he would enjoy as much as you. However, if Spencer Reid fingering you was a religion, you were an eternally loyal follower, and you would do anything to keep him there for as long as you could. 
So you shook your head, murmuring a quiet, "No. I can do two," and allowing him to fasten his fingers once more. 
Fingers found and massaged that spot inside of you he had probably engrained into his brain, and he was leaning down to swallow the loud moan that followed from the feeling. Practiced motions tore the same sounds from your throat as he repeatedly brushed up against it, until your eyes were forced to squeeze shut once more, and hands that were once seeking solace in the sheets, found his wrist and wrapped around it. 
"I can't move if you're going to keep my arm locked up, angel," he said when your nails dug into his wrist, lips smiling against your skin. 
A few short jerks of his hand convinced you to let go of the death grip you had on him, instead returning them to the mattress.
Then he was doing that motion again, and again, and you were silently praying he would never stop. Although, if your moans were any indication to where you were at — and they were — Spencer wouldn't. 
Your hips bucking told him more than he needed to know, and the absence of his body above you when he lay down on the bed next to you was long forgotten when a splayed hand on your abdomen pushed you back down into the mattress, your heart stuttering at the feeling. 
Gentle whines of his name, and a repeated mantra of 'please, please, please' was the only thing your otherwise dismantled brain could come up with, and Spencer was relishing in the knowledge that he was doing this to you. And though it is something he knows he's done before, it had been far too long since and the reminder was always welcome. 
"I know, sweet girl," he said against you when your eyes came open and searched his desperately, walls fluttering around his fingers indicating just how close you were. 
"Please don't stop."
"I won't," he confirmed, punctuating the promise with his thumb returning to your clit. He had your best interest in mind — you knew that. He now wouldn't stop even if you begged him to. 
Overwhelming seemed too insignificant of a word to describe what you felt like when you came, nerve endings all over your body sparking, instead of just the ones he was stimulating. 
His thumb rubbing circles and his fingers thrusting in and out of you didn't falter until your shaking body had stilled and your strings of moans had diminished, slowly coming to a stop and leaving your body — seemingly — as fast as they had entered. 
The content smile on your face was interrupted with Spencer's hand lifting to your lips, and instinctively you parted them, already knowing exactly what he was after. 
His middle and ring fingers entered your mouth, and your face scrunched up despite yourself as you tasted yourself on them. He laughed at that — of course he did — and pulled them out soon after. 
"You do that every time," he murmured, hair tickling your skin as he placed open mouthed kisses over your shoulder, up towards your neck. 
"It tastes weird," you argued, and his teeth nipping your skin told you he disagreed. Though, he wasn't in the mood to argue, for he didn't say anything else on the matter. 
"Still got it in you for one more?" he asked you, pulling his head back so he could see you once again. 
"Yes."
"Good."
Your eyes watched him even as he rolled back to take his pants off, and the awkward smile he gave you provided the inkling of comfort that there was still the man from three months prior in there. 
"I really missed you, you know?" This time it was you saying it, piercing the air as his hand came down between your thighs to part them. The head of his cock nudged against you, brushing delicately through your folds and eliciting a quiet whimper from your lips. 
"I know," he answered, pressing kisses on your shoulder once more. "Are you okay?"
"Me? Yeah. I'm fine," you confirmed with a nod, confusion crossing your features all up until you learned why he was asking. 
A broken moan, choked and caught in your throat, left you when he painstakingly slowly pushed inside of you. There's not a lot going on inside your mind when he stops, your entire body aflame and equally desperate for more, as you were for him to take a moment here. 
"I love you," he breathed out, the words hurried and encouraging your heart to speed up, and your mind to melt even more. 
"I love you too," you said back, voice just as quiet, gently nudging hips ushering for him to move. 
"Impatient girl," he muttered, but you smiled nonetheless because he did (move). 
His thrusts were slow, and gentle, but you never truly minded how much time he took with you once you two were here. Even more so now, for you were on the same page as him, and you wanted to savour every single moment of this down to the second. 
A whimper left your lips, followed closely by the desperate whisper of his name, and lips that were still resting against your shoulder smiled. 
"I thought about this a lot," he said to you, his hand that was holding your thighs slightly open sliding up to find your clit. "I definitely shouldn't have."
"Why?" You knew why, but the thought of hearing him answer it aloud excited you a little. 
Unfortunately, he knew you better than that. "Don't play coy. You know why, honey."
"You're cruel," you huffed, and he laughed, rolling his hips to meet yours, earning another moan. "Maybe I don't."
"Use that wonderful imagination of yours, then," he answered, rubbing your clit at the same time as he moved his hips once more, effortlessly rendering you unable to respond to him again. 
A teenage boy probably could've lasted longer than the both of you, but you decided to blame it all on your already sensitive nerves from a prior orgasm, and the fact that Spencer Reid had not had you like this for over 2190 hours (not that he was counting).
Whimpers escaped your throat as he kept his hips thrusting into you at an achingly slow pace, while his fingers working on your clit did anything but. It was an aching juxtaposition that left you reeling for more, and Spencer was now the one shutting his eyes so he could hold onto some semblance of composure. 
"Spencer," you pleaded, and it was a quiet moan from behind you that told you he was exactly where you were. 
"I know, honey," he replied, the desperation in his voice jumpstarting your heart. "Need to come, yeah?"
"Mmhm," you nodded your head quickly, breathlessly moaning. "Please."
"You're going to. Don't worry. Don't need to beg, sweet girl."
Commingled moans and obscenely wet noises filled the air, and your hips stuttered as your stomach twisted into knots. 
Chanting his name like a prayer, you meet him wherever your two souls go in that moment, and it's a shuddering feeling as you come at the same time as him. For the first time in forever. 
His hand drops back to your thigh and he massages the muscles there gently, willing himself to stop before he crossed the line of overstimulation — not that you think you'd complain about that. 
There was an emptiness when he pulled out, but then he was kissing you again to make up for it, and you were smiling against his lips as you kissed him back. This time, without the fever. 
"How're you feeling?" he asked you, quietly. 
"Happy," you answered, forcing your heavy eyelids open when he pulled back. "How are you feeling?"
"Also happy," he agreed, and your heart soared. 
"Good."
"You need to go pee," he said, placing another kiss on your cheek, before he leaned his body away entirely. 
"Help?"
Arguably, you could do it yourself. Your limbs were tired, yes, and your mind was melting, but you were coherent enough to brave it alone. 
Thankfully, you didn't have to. 
He carried you to the bathroom, running the bath water after you had silently begged him for it with your eyes (looking between him and the empty bath with wide eyes and a jutted lip worked wonders), and leaving you to pee. 
"Are you getting in with me?" you asked him as wobbly legs akin to a fawn carried you over to the now full and steaming bathtub. 
"Do you want me to?"
Hesitantly, you nodded your head, fidgeting with your fingers in front of you. "But you'd have to take your shirt off. So you don't have to."
He studied your face for a moment longer, before he nodded, and fingers expertly worked at unbuttoning down the shirt. 
"I'm okay now. That's the important thing you have to remember, okay?" his words provided little comfort, but you nodded your head regardless. 
You had a suspicion already of what sight you were going to be met with, but it didn't stop the guilt settling into your chest when the shirt fell to the floor anyways. 
"Spence," you murmured, taking a hesitant step forwards, heart falling to your stomach. 
Bruises littered the skin, some fresh and still purple, others nearly healed and yellowing. But there were so many, and it was then that you were swallowing the rest of him in with your eyes, catching the bandage on his thigh. 
"What is that?" you nodded towards the covered wound, and when your eyes returned to his face again, he was staring at you with an unreadable expression. 
"A lot happened," he answered, quietly, before repeating, "I'm okay now."
You nodded your head, tears stinging your vision for nothing more than your ridiculous amount of empathy. "Can you tell me about it?"
"I will," he promised. "Eventually. Just not now, okay? I haven't processed it all yet."
"Okay," you replied, and his heart shattered at the sight of a tear slipping down your face. 
"Hey," he took ahold of your hand and tugged you closer to him, fingers running through your hair and resting at the base of your scalp. "I promise, honey. I'm not going to disintegrate from a few bruises."
"It isn't just a few," you answered, voice wavering. "There's so many."
"You have a heart too big for your chest," he decided to say instead, leaning down to rest his forehead against yours. "Most of them don't even hurt now. Please believe me when I say I'm okay."
"I'm trying," your voice is thick with a sob caught in your throat. "I think I'm just really tired."
"Yeah," he crooned, agreeing. "Your body's released a lot of prolactin, which encourages sleep. Alongside the endorphins and dopamine that you're crashing from upon seeing this."
Wordlessly, you nodded your head, and he kissed the tip of your nose in an attempt to comfort. 
"Bath, then we can sleep, and we can talk more in the morning," he listed off, and you merely nodded your head once more, sniffling and wiping your eyes. 
"Okay."
your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡
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hellfirenacht · 1 month ago
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Anomaly Part 2
Summary: You can talk to anyone in school with no problem. At least, anyone who's not named Eddie Munson.
Tags: Anxious-ish!Reader but not shy, one sided pining, no use of y/n, fem!reader, one sided enemies to lovers, fem!reader
2.1k Words
Part 1
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School assemblies were fun in their own way. You weren’t exactly brimming with school spirit but you could fake it for a half-hour when it got you out of your History class. Everyone was ushered into the gym at the end of the day to celebrate the sport season. You had no idea if the Hawkin’s Tigers were good or not, you could really only name two and a half people on the basketball team: Jason Carver, who you unfortunately had shared a free period with once, Lucas Sinclair, who you had seen talking to Eddie once in a blue moon, and Steve Harrington who had graduated, so he didn’t really count. You vaguely remembered working with him on some school project for two days and thinking that you just wanted to squish his hair down to see if it would spring back up. 
Stacy bounded over to you in the bleachers, decked out in more Tiger’s Green than a leprechaun. She shook the scrunchy out of her hair and slipped it onto your wrist. You sometimes wondered how she never became a cheerleader with how perky she was.
“There, now you look like you tried.” she giggled, nudging you. 
“I was gonna scribble on my face with a green dry erase marker, but Mr. Thompson’s had run dry.” You said. 
“He was probably lying so you wouldn’t steal one and huff it in the bathroom.” 
“Hey, that was one time and 4th grade math was hard.” you cackled. 
“Speaking of hard drugs, look who decided to actually show up.” Stacy smirked and your stomach instantly dropped as you followed her gaze. 
“What the fuck is Eddie doing here?” you whispered to Stacy. “He doesn’t do pep rallies!”
“Guess he does now.” she shrugged. 
Eddie was a few rows lower than you, leaning against the end railing of the bleachers. You vaguely wondered if he was burning up in that leather jacket, it wasn’t exactly cool in the gym with so many bodies all squished together. 
He was alone, looking like he’d rather be literally anywhere else. You didn’t blame him, this clearly wasn’t a place where he fit in. You looked down the bleachers in the opposite direction, unable to pick out any of his friends. During pep rallies, the bleachers were divided by grade, with Seniors on your end of the bleachers, and freshmen on the opposite end. Maybe Eddie was pressing himself against the railing to create his own section of Super Seniors. 
If he was anyone else, you’d join him in that section, but you kept that knowledge to yourself. 
“He looks lonely, go talk to him before they start.” Stacy encouraged. 
“Please, I doubt he’d want to talk to me at any other time. You think he wants to talk to me now?” you asked incredulously. 
“What’s the worst that could happen?” 
“He could convince me to join a cult and then sacrifice me to the dark forces.” you said, looking over at him. Well, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. 
Eddie’s head snapped up and he whirled around. Out of everyone around, his eyes immediately locked onto yours. 
Oh shit.
He heard that. 
His round brown eyes sized you up, and you cringed out of embarrassment for your stupid joke. You felt like a deer in the headlights. Eddie was looking at you, really looking at you for the first time and you were about two seconds away from jumping off the back of the bleachers and tunneling your way out of the school. 
Next to you, you could practically feel Stacy shaking as she tried to hold in her laughter, which unfortunately, triggered your own set of nervous giggling because this whole thing was so stupid and Eddie was still looking at you. 
He looked unimpressed, and flipped you off before turning back around to sulk against the railing again as the band suddenly started up, and everyone started cheering for the team. 
“Gotta say, I am nailing this, Stacy.” You laughed, leaning against her shoulder. “Practically had the boy swooning.”
“Yeah, he’ll be asking you out any day now.” She rubbed your back sympathetically. 
“I can’t believe he heard me. He totally thought I was being serious.” Your giggles finally subsided and you looked up at her. 
“It would be very easy to clear this up, if you’d just talk to him.” She said. 
“I don’t like it when you’re rational, you know.” you replied and glanced at him again. Eddie was no longer looking at you and was just fiddling with his rings as he watched boredly as Principal Higgens was giving announcements. 
You had to apologize. The last thing you wanted was for Eddie to think that you were really like that. You didn’t buy into the bullshit that some dice and graph paper could damn your soul to hell. 
“Fuck it, I’m going in.” you said, and turned to head towards Eddie. 
“Go get ‘em, Tiger!” 
You made your way to the edge of the bleachers, and three things happened in quick succession. First, Miles Cooper got overly enthusiastic as you passed by him, and his elbow made a quick and sharp connection to your stomach, knocking the wind out of you. The second thing that happened was a stray backpack got kicked right in front of you as you staggered from the shock of being elbowed. The third and final thing was you falling down the two benches of bleachers that separated you and Eddie. 
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“You can either go to the pep rally and act like you are a part of this school, or you can have detention, Mr. Munson. The choice is yours.” 
Normally, no one gave a shit if Eddie skipped out on something like a pep rally. That time was better spent either reading in an empty classroom or as a smoke break in the parking lot. He had just made it out to the parking lot before he was spotted and given the option. Eddie had been good about not skipping class this year, but he really didn’t want to give Higgins another reason to threaten to withhold his diploma. 
So there he was, leaning against the railing of the furthest bleachers so that the second the pep rally ended, he could just book it back to the van and leave to.. Somewhere. Uncle Wayne had work, and Eddie didn’t have a shift at the Hideout. There was no Hellfire today. 
Eddie was feeling restless as he fidgeted with his rings. Today had already been annoying and he really just wanted to sneak out to his van and have a smoke. It’s not like anyone here would miss him, they’d probably celebrate his departure more than the entrance to the basketball team. 
He looked down at his hands, taking his rings off and rearranging them on his fingers. He tapped them on the railing, listening to the sounds they made as he counted the seconds for this whole thing to be over. 
As his mind started to wander off, a voice snapped him back to the hell he was currently in. “-join a cult and sacrifice me to the dark forces.” 
It was always obvious when someone was talking about Eddie. Normally he’d let it go and ignore whoever it was, but he wasn’t exactly in the best of moods today. His head whipped around, looking for whoever was talking about him. 
There you were with Stacy, again. Eddie wished he could be surprised, but he wasn’t. His eyes narrowed as he looked you over. You weren’t dressed in anything that screamed “school spirit” except for a scrunchie around your wrist. 
He saw how you cringed at the sight of him, which only pissed him off more. What was your fucking problem? You were friends with Stacy, who had been on the cheer squad before her ankle gave out, the skaters liked, you liked everyone. Everyone who wasn’t Eddie Munson. 
Eddie had wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt, that maybe the two of you just hadn’t crossed paths enough. Maybe it wasn’t personal. But now, after hearing you say that you also thought he was some sort of demon worshiping freak he was fine to write you off as just another Hawkins student. Maybe then he could finally move past this weird feeling he had whenever you gave him the stink eye. 
Stacy started giggling next to you, and Eddie just rolled his eyes and turned away. It wasn’t worth it to start anything now at the pep rally. He was already on thin ice after being caught trying to skip. The sooner this was over the better. 
His attention drifted as Higgins droned on and on about school spirit and upcoming fundraisers and games. It was all background noise. In his mind, Eddie was working out the next dungeon that Hellfire was going to take on. His party was getting too used to his usual tricks, so he’d have to pull out something new to really throw them off-
There was a choked off gasp. 
Then a curse. 
Then a horrible cracking sound as something fell next to him.
“Jesus-!” Eddie jumped nearly a foot in the air as you hit the bleacher next to him. His eye nearly bugged out as he saw you sprawled next to him, clutching your stomach and gasping for air like a fish. 
Everyone in the section was still as they all stared at you, before a few started to snicker. Stacy was quick to jump down with far more grace and land by your side. Eddie was completely frozen, unsure of what to do until he heard Miles Cooper say- 
“It was Munson! He did it!”
Eddie’s head snapped to Miles, about to say something before a teacher sharply demanded the Eddie get off the bleachers and come down for what was sure to be a one-sided lecture and detention for something he didn’t do. 
He didn’t fight it, he was about to argue and cause a scene right now in the bleachers. Not when that teacher had a fire in her eyes that said she was just itching for trouble. Fine, he wanted to be as far away from this as possible. 
Eddie walked down the bleachers and followed the teacher out into the hallway. He was already tuning out the lecture about watching your body and not hitting girls. This was such bullshit, and he knew he couldn’t even fight back and defend himself. 
“Look, I didn’t touch her!” Eddie couldn’t stop the frustration in his voice. “She was behind me when she fell!”
“Witnesses say otherwise.” The teacher crossed her arms. 
“Look, just because that dumbass said it was true-” 
There was a loud CLANK as the heavy doors to the gym burst open and to Eddie’s surprise, you were rushing through the door, holding onto your arm. 
You made a beeline for him and the teacher and Eddie could already see it now. Your fake tears as you cried about how the freak shoved you down for no reason-
“Didn’t... do it.” you were shaking your head and panting hard. With your free hand you were pointing at Eddie. “He didn’t... he didn’t do anything... Miles elbowed me. Then I tripped. Eddie never.... Touched me.” 
Stacy was behind you and grabbed your shoulders, trying to hold you in place. “Eddie didn’t do anything, Mrs. Jane.” she explained. “She was just trying to go get some water and ate shit. Eddie had nothing to do with it.”
You nodded, still panting hard as if trying to catch your breath. Stacy was rubbing your back, and you looked like you were on the verge of tears. 
Eddie felt like he had just stepped into an alternate timeline. You were actually defending him? You were in that much pain but had still come running to claim his innocence? 
Mrs. Jane looked at you with concern. “Eddie, you may go back to the pep rally.” She dismissed him without so much as an apology for chewing him out. 
Fuck this. Eddie didn’t need to be told twice. He made his way back towards the gym, but slipped into a side hall. The pep rally was going to be over soon anyway, he might as well beat traffic. 
He paused just as he was out of sight. Fine, he was a little nosey and mildly concerned as you had just come to his rescue. 
“I... I think I hurt my arm.” you said, and he could hear the real pain in your voice. 
“I’ll take her to the nurse.” Stacy said. 
Eddie heard the sound of footsteps, and quickly slipped out of the school before Mrs. Jane caught him escaping. 
Yeah, he was going to need something stronger than a cigarette after this. 
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I really didn't think the original blurb would get much attention lol
Tag List: @eddiemunsonfuxks @kirsteng42 @strangereads @pedroschka @generoustrashpeach
@sheneedsrocknroll92 @cyanfairywren @crocworkships @tomtomslongdong @aphrogeneias
@ghcstpyre @totheforestandtheocean @stevekeeryswife @dreamyyy222222 @ajnerdess
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@transparentenemypenguin @ghoulsgraveyard @spread-the-hope @exploding-bonbon @paleidiot
@2spock @c14r3v1b3srs @yujyujj @saramelaniemoon @morganlolitta
@veemoon @mrsrdlw @eddieheart
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itsprashimusic · 2 months ago
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Monaco and Monza
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Summary - Charles, his favourite person (and their puppy) before, during and after the most important race wins of his life.
Pairings - Charles Leclerc x fem!Reader
Warnings - no use of y/n, google translate French and Italian, r can make decent conversation in French and Italian, possible inaccurate timelines, it is hinted that R is not from France or Monaco, honorable louis tomlinson appearance bc I am a former louie girlie, R has blue light glasses, cuss words. Happy reading🩵
W/C - 3.9k
A/N - i write all my female Rs with a desi in mind. Written in 2nd pov. I wrote R with a mindset and likes similar to mine, you are free to skip this fic if you don't like it.
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Before Monaco
An hour had passed on the three hour flight from Imola to Nice. Charles was asleep and Leo was curled up in your lap. Sitting in an oversized top and sweatpants, you were quite comfortable while doing some work. You work for a company that allows you to work remotely, which is a huge blessing considering your longtime boyfriend travels the world every other week.
The tiny pup yawned big as he woke up from his nap. You scratched him under the chin. Leo moved around in your lap, found another comfortable spot and went right back to sleep just as Charles also moved to find another comfortable position to nap in. You smiled to yourself and continued working.
Soon the plane landed in a private airport in the French city of Nice. Your bags were handled by the hired help, and Charles insisted on carrying your laptop bag for you. This left you walking along his side with Leo in your arms, still sound asleep. The boat ride to Monaco didn't take long and the drive to your shared apartment went by in a blur.
It felt nice being home during race week. You left Leo in his bed and joined Charles in the living room. Coming up from behind you hugged him while softly asking, "Qu'est-ce que tu penses?" (what is on your mind?). Even after all these years you still cringed at your accent.
"The race" he replied.
You sighed as you remembered the dnfs, mechanical failures and team errors that Charles had to endure. Year after year, the pain just kept getting worse as you watched from the grandstands and eventually the garage.
"You should focus on the positives. The team has been performing well and this season has been different than the last 3, there is hope." you weren't sure if what you said was the right thing. You kissed him on the cheek and moved around the couch to come and sit next to him.
"It is not easy when every other time I have had hope, it has been ripped away and torn into tiny pieces," Charles said while looking defeated. You felt sad seeing him like this. You just held your arms out and let him fall into your embrace. With the couch being big enough for two people to sleep on it, soon you and Charles fell asleep, still in the hug.
During Monaco
Photographers snapped photos of you and Rebecca, Leo's leash entwined with your hand. The two of you were spotted outside the Ferrari hospitality an hour before qualifying. Charles was busy with his engineer and strategist and asked you to give him some alone time. So, you thought a small walk around the paddock with your puppy and good friend would be beneficial.
Eventually the crowd of fans surrounding you and Rebecca who wanted to see Leo was getting quite large, so you politely said goodbye to the fans, picked up the pup and made your way back to the Ferrari motorhome. You got a text from your boyfriend.
Can you come to my drivers room?
You entered the room and put Leo down, allowing him to calm down and drink some water from his very own water bottle and attached bowl. "Darling, do you need something?" you asked Charles as he looked tense.
You moved closer to him. Charles caught you by surprise when he pulled you even closer and hugged you extremely tight. "Je ne me sens pas bien," (i don't feel good) he whispered. "C'est bon. Tout ira bien. It's ok, you'll be ok." you quietly kept repeating to him until Leo began demanding attention with his big brown eyes and soft whines.
Charles wiped the few tears that escaped and picked him up with a new smile adorning his face. For a moment, it was just the three of you, your perfect little family. There was a knock at the door, followed by a Ferrari team member informing Charles that he was required in 5 minutes. Charles placed a wet kiss on your forehead.
"Thank you for supporting me the way you do. I love you so much, mon cœur," (my heart) he said, his lips still on your forehead. The pair walked out of the room and split ways. You had the hired help watch Leo for the duration of qualifying in a private room.
You sat with Charles' family just as the Sky Sports camera panned on you. You smiled when you saw yourself on the monitor and gave a small wave while sitting next to Charlotte.
Even though you knew that Charles would easily clear Q1, you could not help the anxiety that made its way throughout your body. He crossed the line and made it to Q2. With the next session, your anxiety worsened. But within 15 minutes your nerves eased.
Q3. This was it. As the minutes slowly turned from 12 to 2, you were feeling sick. Charles' sleek Ferrari flew over the finish line and your hands flew to your mouth. Pole Position. At his home race. At your home race. The cameras focused on you to get your and his family's reaction.
At parc ferme, Charles ran over to his team who hyped him up even more. He signed the wheel and posed for the photos, the smile never leaving his face. Even after finishing up his media duties and making his way back to his family and you in the motorhome, his smile remained ever present. You swore he never hugged you tighter than that.
Race day. The day that actually mattered.
You entered the paddock a few steps behind Charles, Leo once again in your hold. You didn't get a lot of time with Charles, considering he was the man of the hour after securing pole. The two of you shared a moment together before he had to head out for the national anthem.
"Comment te sens-tu, chérie?" (how are you feeling, darling?) you asked him while he changed into his race suit. He looked up and the look on his face gave you your answer. You smiled and he continued wearing his suit. There were butterflies in his stomach. That meant he felt nervous, hopeful, anxious and confident all at once.
Charles was out on the track, and you once again joined his family in the motorhome. At that point though, it would be more appropriate to call them your family. You and Charles have been together for a long time. The pair of you had seen each other at their lowest and highest. When Charles lost his father and when for nearly a year you could not get a job. When news of Anthoine's death reached Charles, he was on holiday with you and your family in another country. Your family gave him the comfort he needed. When you got news that your parents contracted covid, there was nothing you could do sitting in your apartment in Monaco. Pascale was like a second mother to you.
The race began. You found a place to sit and watch the race. Charles was in the lead. A huge crash. A totaled redbull and a red flag. You felt the butterflies creeping up from your stomach to your throat. The race resumed and continued. Piastri was close to Charles, but not enough to threaten his position. It felt like time slowed down during the final lap. You had an earbud plugged in one ear and could hear Crofty's iconic last lap commentary.
The number 16 Ferrari flew past the checkered flag and fireworks flew out from the sides of the track. Charles' family members were already hugging each other and some of the team members who were there. But you didn't move. Tears were flowing down your face and a smile was etched on your face. The first person you moved to hug was Charlotte, the older woman was like an elder sister to you.
The camera's stream kept cutting from Charles out on the track to you and his family in the motorhome. Everyone quickly left the garage and made their way to parc ferme. You saw Charles pull up and stop in front of the 1st place stand. You watched from the back as he ran to his team, Arthur and Lorenzo pushed their way to the front. After getting weighed, the team moved to allow you to come to the front where Charles walked towards you.
Normally, you and Charles would keep the pda on the lesser side when cameras were around, but not this time. The forever smiling face, messy-haired and slightly teary-eyed boyfriend of yours pulled you directly into a powerful kiss. His left arm was around your back while his right hand was half on your face and half on your neck. You could hear and feel all the cameras going off around you.
Charles broke the kiss but kept your foreheads connected. You held both of his hands. "Tu l'as fait," (you did it) you repeated in all the languages you knew while nodding your head. You could see the tears welling up in his eyes again. He quickly blinked them away, "L'ho fatto," (i did it) he said in Italian quickly kissed you once again before hugging you.
You stood below the podium and watched as he received the trophy he had been waiting his entire life for. You were still crying. The tears would not stop, and they only got worse when Charles made eye contact with you after he was presented with the medal. He mouthed the words I love you. So much. Thank you. You could only hold your hand to your heart in response.
After Monaco
Even after a full day, you could still smell the fragrance of champagne wafting off of Charles.
You and Charles had celebrated his win on Sunday night in a club. He was practically glued to your side the entire night. No matter who he was talking to, either he did it while having an arm around you or holding your hand. By the end of the night, you were left with a very clingy and very drunk boyfriend. With Joris's help, you got Charles into the car. He drove the both of you home.
Back at the apartment, Charles seemed to have sobered up a bit after you made him eat some food.
"Did I ever tell you how much I love you?" Charles was lying down on the bed and was lovingly staring at you.
"All the time," you answered while changing for the night.
You finished changing and joined Charles in bed. Leo who was previously perched near Charles' feet climbed onto you and snuggled up on your chest.
Charles got your attention by saying your name, "I want you to understand what I mean when I say this. I love you. I appreciate you so much, even I cannot comprehend it. You have supported me throughout my years in Formula 1 and Formula 2. You have stood by me all these years, even when you had to sacrifice your job and sleep schedule for me. Je veux que vous compreniez la profondeur de ce que je dis." (i want you to understand the depth of what i am saying).
His eyes kept moving around but eventually rested on your face. He looked into your eyes when he finally spat out what he truly wanted to say.
"Mon cœur, mon âme, ma vie, je veux passer le reste de ma vie avec toi. Veux-tu m'épouser?" (My heart, my soul, my life, i want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?)
I took you a second to process what Charles said. You looked down and saw him holding a simple gold band with three small diamonds set in it. His free arm was laid across your stomach under Leo, who woke up when he sensed his mom feeling strong emotions.
Tears filled your eyes, your heart began beating faster and you were sweating a bit. Leo moved to the bed and was now licking the tears that fell from your eyes. You felt like you couldn't speak, but you very much knew what your answer was.
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Before Monza
The summer break was perfect. You used your paid leave and were fully able to enjoy your time with the entire family. The photos of Leo that Charles posted to his instagram were adored by the fans. Your insta account remained private, but you still posted the dog nonetheless.
Neither of you announced the engagement just yet, wanting to keep it to yourselves for a while. Fans got curious when they saw a new ring around that special finger after Charles' win in Monaco, but since it was quite simple and small, they thought nothing much of it. You were known for wearing many different rings on the same finger, so people thought it was just another ring you fancied.
Unfortunately, after your long break, you were required to come back to the office for a few days for important meetings with the higher-ups of your company. That meant you missed the race in Zandvoort and Charles podium. But you made it up to him by joining him in Monza, his adopted home race.
Walking in the streets of Monza with a loved Ferrari driver was always quite the experience. Leo loved the attention from all the fans, he was a born extrovert. You and Charles had lunch at one of your favourite restaurants. The both of you sat in a relatively private section of the restaurant.
"I missed you at Zandvoort," Charles said before eating a morsel of his favourite pasta. "I'm sorry I couldn't be there. I tried to leave as early as I could, but by the time the meeting finished it made no sense to come," you said wishing you could have been there for him. Ever since Monaco, the team had been struggling. It brought back painful flashbacks of 2022 and 2023.
Things were not the best between you and Charles during the week you were out for work. The timings never seemed to match, when he had the energy to talk you were too burnt out, and doing all of this while also planning a wedding was not easy. It put a small strain on your relationship which seemed like it was reaching its breaking point during this weekend.
During Monza
You spent the rest of the week working. In between the free practice sessions, you were spotted with a pair of blue-light glasses on and bent over your laptop and a notebook. Leo was either sleeping in his carrier by your feet or was with Arthur or Lorenzo.
You barely saw Charles the entire weekend. He was either busy with his engineer and strategist or was filming content. It only made the strain in your relationship even worse and left Rebecca having to hear your side of it for most of the weekend considering both the boys were quite busy.
It was only before qualifying that you managed to get a moment with Charles at all.
"Charles, I know this is an important race for you, but we need to talk," you sternly said leaving no room for arguments. Charles was about to protest but you simply pulled him by the arm to his drivers room.
"Pourquoi tu ne me parles pas?" (why are you not talking to me?) you folded your arms while facing him. "You have been avoiding me ever since Thursday!"
"Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you were too tired and 'fagged out' to want to talk," he replied sarcastically and with air quotes. "Je ne comprends pas pourquoi tu dois te comporter comme ça!" (I don't get why you have to behave like that!) Charles started walking around angrily and went off rattling away in French at such a fast pace you could not understand what he was saying.
"Just stop!" you yelled. "Just tell me why you are angry at me," you said, softer this time, almost in defeat.
"I don't like it when you are so busy with your work that you do not have time for us," Charles whispered after a long pause.
"And how do you think I feel when you are so busy with your work? I am required to go to the office at least every six months. You travel around the world every other week. You have less free time than I do, but have you heard me complain? So, instead of getting angry that I had to leave for one week to discuss plans for the company's future with the CEO, you should be happy that it was only one week out of the 52 in a year."
By the time you finished speaking, Charles had his hands over his face and was standing quite far from you. He whispered something inaudibly. With a confused look on your face, you moved closer to your fiancé. Upon feeling your body heat in the cold room, he removed his hands from his face and repeated his words.
I'm sorry.
The both of you wrapped yourselves in an embrace and for 5 minutes were only apologising and promising to do better in the future. You left the room after giving him a kiss. You headed down to the garage wanting to watch quali with Arthur who was watching Leo while you worked.
The timer began the countdown into Q1. Normally you would've been feeling quite nervous, but you were distracted by the charming british singer sitting next to you. Being a young girl during the height of One Direction was something else entirely. Your childhood dreams of meeting your favourite singer from the famous boyband had now come true.
Soon it was time for Q3 and you got a photo with Louis who by the time Q3 began, just like the rest of the world, fell in love with Leo and his photos. Charles put in great laps, but ended up only p4 alongside Russel.
Charles finished with his media duties and met up with you inside the motorhome. You were on a work call when he walked into the room. Leo was in the corner of the room scarfing down his food as if he hadn't eaten in years, his ears flopping all over the place.
You cut the call frustrated, removing your glasses from your face and placing them on your head. "Est-ce que tu vas bien?" (are you good?) he asked while holding you from the side and kissing your temple. You nodded and just packed up your things while Charles gathered his things as well.
The grandstands were filled with a sea of red and occasional yellow. Your outfit consisted of only red, yellow and black. Charles had left for the paddock earlier, so you made plans to have breakfast with Rebecca and leave for the paddock together.
You walked around before the race with Leo on the leash in front of you, Rebecca by your side. "So, how is wedding planning going?" she asked, her beautiful scottish accent making you smile. "We are still looking at venues. All we know is that it's going to be sometime in August of next year."
The drivers would soon be called for the national anthem. So, you went back to the Ferrari garage looking for your soon-to-be husband. You found him sitting next to Arthur, water bottle in hand. Leo instantly ran towards him and began climbing up his dad.
"Just do your best. Give it your all. Je t'aime tellement." (i love you so much) you sent Charles off with a hug. Leo was fast asleep in his carrier, so you joined Arthur down in the garage. You put on the large red headphones and waved at the camera when you saw yourself on the broadcast.
Halfway through the race, it hit you that Charles could possibly win. It was a stretch considering he was attempting a one-stopper. But as lap after lap went by the possibility of that dream coming true seemed more and more likely. His tires were probably gonna look like chewed-up bubblegum by the end of the race, but if he managed them just right...
He did it. He fucking did it. The roar of the Tifosi was stronger than ever. Unlike his last win, this time you were not seated. You were jumping up and down, cheering as loud as you could, matching the energy of the Ferrari team members around you. Some of them hugged you.
While Charles was finishing his cool-down lap, the mechanics and other team members rushed out to greet Charles in parc ferme. You stayed close to Arthur, knowing that you could possibly get pushed in the wrong direction. With a hand around your back, he guided you to the front where you could see the beautiful red car pull up.
Charles came running toward the team, moving quickly to try and hug everyone possible. As he moved from Arthur to hug you, from the corner of your eyes you could see more cameras making their way towards you. FLASH! And that was how one of the iconic photos of Monza 2024 was born. Charles' arms wrapped around you and he had his visor up, his eyes filled with so much emotion. You were smiling widely in the photo and had your hands on either side of his helmet. But the part that made the photo iconic was that your left hand was facing the camera, and in that, you had tucked away all of your fingers except the one with your engagement ring.
Winning the Italian Grand Prix as a Ferrari driver is always special, so you watched the podium celebration from inside the motorhome, wanting him to enjoy the moment with the team and the Tifosi to the fullest.
After Monza
For the next two days, the streets of Monza were filled with Ferrari flags being either hung from somewhere or people waving them around. It seemed like every other Italian was asking for an autograph from Charles or a photo with him. But it wasn't just Charles and Ferrari who were the talk of town. So were you.
That photo of you and Charles just after the race had gone viral. At first, people were freaking out, wondering if the two of you were really engaged or if it was a joke. Only when Charles reposted the photo to his story did fans really start freaking out.
Congratulations were pouring out of everyone's mouth who had seen the photo or heard of the news. You didn't mean for the news to overshadow Charles' incredible win on 38-lap old tires. But it didn't. As a matter of fact, the win and engagement news gelled well together, neither taking away from the other.
The night before the team would be heading to Maranello you and Charles laid in the hotel bed, Leo fast asleep on his own bed. "I'm sorry for not asking if you'd be fine with me announcing our engagement," you said in a soft voice while drawing shapes on his torso. Charles, who had you wrapped around his side, kissed your forehead and said, "Je suis content que tu l'aies fait," (I am glad you did it).
The next morning Charles posted a photo of a formal dinner the two of you had with not just his but also your family where the engagement was announced. Of course, Leo was in the center of the photo.
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A/n - honestly idk what i even wrote. i am tired af and just needed to get this out of my system. Hope you enjoyed reading🩵
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hawkinsbnbg · 4 months ago
Text
Today, Mike had woken up on the wrong side of his bed so he was especially vicious as he ranted about anything he found irritating about Steve.
He hadn't even reached the midpoint when Dustin decided to rip him a new one. Which, yeah, was fair because he didn't usually do Steve that dirty. But his bad mood had taken over and he found himself arguing with Dustin.
"It's not like you don't gripe about him every day," Mike retorted heatedly. "In fact, you are the one making fun of him the most out of everybody here," he gestured widely at the others (Lucas cringed, Will looked guilty, Max and Erica high-fived each other, El nodded calmly, Eddie just gave him a little wave).
"That's because I'm his brother," Dustin said matter-of-factly while adopting Steve's signature mom pose. "But who are you? You're just his ex's brother. Without Nancy, you're just a random kid to him."
(Eddie, Max, and Erica looked at each other with the same smirk. "Oh, that burns."
Lucas just sighed helplessly as Will and El watched on in amusement.)
Mike's nostril flared indignantly. He would never ever admit this, but while he thought Steve was lame and an idiot sometimes, he respected Steve plenty. Not enough to admire, but enough to fight Dustin for him.
"So what? I know him longer than you," Mike fired back. "I have more M&M's and 3 Musketeers from him than you do, I played baseball with him every weekend, and I also watched Star Wars with him."
"You do understand what ex means, right?" Dustin narrowed his eyes at him. "Nancy's his ex-girlfriend, ergo you're his ex-something, ergo you need to stop living in the past. You know why? Because I," Dustin pointed at himself smugly, "am his favorite now. I'm the present and the future. His shotgun, his house, his pool, his snack cupboard will forever be mine, thank you very much."
And just like that, all hell broke loose.
Because not even Will was willing to accept that bullshit. Steve never had a favorite, okay? As their babysitter, he wasn't allowed to.
"What the fuck are you fighting for?" Mike glared at Erica who was (impressively) making Dustin wail like Mew on the floor.
"Steve still owes me a lifetime of free ice cream, duh," she looked at him like he was an idiot. "Stop talking shit and come help me."
A wise man once said: "Enemy's enemies are friends."
So it only took Mike a second to give her a hand.
———
"Why didn't you stop them?" Steve asked in exasperation, thinking about the fistfight that would've taken place in the Wheelers' basement had he not interfered on time.
"'Cause the more they eliminate among themselves," Eddie leaned in closer and whispered conspiratorially, "the less I gotta fight to keep you."
"But I'm their babysitter," Steve pushed him away with a finger on the forehead. "And you're supposed to make it easier for me, not harder."
"Sweetheart," Eddie grabbed his wrist and nuzzled his nose into it, "Just say the word and I'll make something harder for you right now."
"You're incorrigible," Steve rolled his eyes, but his pretty smile had betrayed his mood.
"Yeah, all because of you, baby," Eddie pressed his lips on the back of Steve's hand. "O prithee, my princess, give me the remedy."
"What if I don't have any?" Steve raised his brow.
"You do, darlin'," Eddie pulled him close and cradled his face. "My tonic is right here," a kiss on his forehead. "My joys," on his eyelids. "My happiness," on his his nose and then his mouth, "my love."
Later, when they cuddled in bed, sweet and tender after loving each other til midnight, he would tell Eddie there was no need to ask for him in the first place.
Because he had been Eddie's boy since the day the battle vest was draped on him.
It seemed Steve did have a favorite, after all.
Except, it was none of his kids.
Truly a tragedy.
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tpwk-formula1 · 1 month ago
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Hi, can I get the following with Max please:
- Gluten free crust
- Red sauce
- Olives
- Peperoni
- Jalapeños
- Chicken
- Roasted peppers
- Ham
- Argula
- Pulled pork
- Beer
- Pepsi
- Root beer
- Dessert
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Lee-Lee's Pizzeria Menu
gluten-free enemies to lovers red sauce rough sex olives "Swallow every last bit. NOW!" pepperoni "Be a good girl, and you'll get what you want" jalapenos "Always such a fucking brat" chicken "Awe, you thought I'd let you cum that easy?" roasted peppers "Such a good whore" ham "You're so infuriating. Walking around like you own the place and then come back to my room to get fucked properly" arugula "I love stretching this pussy out" chorizo "God, I love when I fuck the attitude out of you" beer edging pepsi oral kink root beer daddy kink served by Max Verstappen
TW mean max, face fuck, degrading terms, cum swallowing, pussy eating, unprotected set, slight size kink, multiple orgasms, edging, cummin on body
WC 2900+
Y/N POV
"Max they need you in the car now," I shout through the door trying to get Max to get out of his driver's room.
"Leave me alone little Horner," Max says walking past me and brushing shoulders with me quite aggressively. I just roll my eyes at the attitude radiating off of Max.
I just walk in the other direction not wanting to get into it with Max today. I was the daughter of Christian Horner, and Max and I have never gotten along. Even when we were both young teenagers we would still find a way to bicker back and forth. Back when we were younger it would be over stupid things like what type of coffee was better. Now, that we are older and I work for Red Bull Max has taken it upon himself to make sure to make my work life a living hell.
As the race day continues I watch as Checo is excelling on the Baku track while Max is currently fighting to not get overtaken by Lando who started in the back of the grid.
When Lando overtook Max I had to contain my laugh knowing the engineers around me were not enjoying Max's race. I think the race is pretty much a wrap when all of a sudden I watch as Checo and Carlos collide into the way making me cringe as all of Checo's hard work this weekend is down the drain in a matter of seconds.
I brace myself for the shouts that start ringing out in our garage even hearing Ferrari shouting from how loud they had gotten.
When the race finally finished under a VSC I continued watching as Max's starts overtaking Lando and George. I hear Lando start mentioning Max making me smirk a little. I knew he wasn't gonna get into any kind of trouble but it was funny listening in on him getting snitched on.
Once everything starts to calm down from the intense ending of the race I make my way back into the hospitality to pack up my stuff to head back to the hotel and get some rest before my early morning flight tomorrow.
"You're the last person I fucking want to see right now," Max shouts when I walk into one of the conference rooms to gather my laptop and the rest of my belongings I left in here during the race.
"I'm just getting my stuff," I say softly not wanting to get into a screaming match with Max.
"I'm sure you are," Max says rolling his eyes like I had told some lie.
"What are you getting at Max?" I snap at him when I make it to the corner where my bag of stuff is sitting.
"I just think it's ironic you just so happen to always be where I am. It's like you're fucking obsessed with me," Max says while standing up and approaching me, making me start to back up slightly.
When my back hits the wall Max is now standing face to face with me.
"Max, back up," I whisper starting to get a bit scared. Max and I had always gone at it but he had also never once gotten into my face before.
"Come back to my hotel with me. I'm fucking exhausted from fighting off the sexual frustration," Max says making me gasp before laughing slightly.
"you're fucking insane if you think we have sexual tension between us and you need to go to a mental hospital if you thought THAT would work on me," I say before pushing him back and attempting to try and leave.
When Max grabs my wrist I groan knowing he wasn't done with the conversation.
"One night, let me fuck you till the sunrises and then we go back to whatever this is," Max says making me step to him so we are back to being chest to chest.
"No," I simply say trying to turn around again but stop in my tracks when Max shouts again.
"One fucking night," Max shouts. I instantly turn back around pushing at his chest a little making him stumble.
"Max if I go back with you and you don't have me on the edge of cumming within 5 minutes I'm getting up and going back to my room," I tell him sternly.
"I only need 2," Max says cockily making me shake my head before leaving the room.
When I get back to my hotel room I take a quick shower and get partially ready kind of hoping the plans between Max and I weren't just a heated discussion after a bad race.
I'm not even halfway through brushing my teeth when I get a notification on my phone letting me know Max had texted me. When I finished brushing I picked up my phone to see what Max said
"Be here in 10. 342"
I quickly change before stepping out of my room to head for the elevator to head up to Max's room. I feel like I should be having doubts but to be quite frank, I have wanted Max for far longer than I want to admit. He was right there has been sexual tension between us for years but neither one of us trying to admit it.
When I get in front of his hotel room I hesitate before knocking knowing whatever happens tonight will change everything.
"On time, I'm fucking shocked," Max says when he opens the door to let me in.
"Max, what the hell are you on about?" I snap at him not even being able to last 30 seconds without us fighting.
"You're so infuriating. Walking around like you own the place and then come back to my room to get fucked properly" Max says casually making me stop in my tracks and stare at him.
"You're a fucking dick. And don't flatter yourself you have 5 minutes starting now," I say making Max instantly approach me and pull me in for one of the most intense and aggressive makeout sessions I have ever been a part of. I can feel the sparks flying almost instantly. Max picks me up and carries me into the other room where his bed is before he places me on the bed and starts pulling up my shirt making my breath hitch slightly.
When Max has my shirt off he instantly unclips my bra and flings it across the room before pushing me down softly to lie down.
As soon as my back hits the mattress I feel Max's hands making quick work at pulling my pants down leaving me completely bare in less than a minute.
"neuken," Max mumbles making me lift my head slightly. I've known Max long enough to have picked up on some of his Dutch.
"What," I snap worried that something was wrong.
"God the prettiest pussy," Max mumbles before diving right in and pulling my clit into his mouth and instantly sucking it making me arch my back and throw my head back.
"Fuck, Max," I whine when I feel his fingers teasing my entrance.
"How are you already this fucking soaked," Max groans into my pussy sending a new set of vibrations to my clit making me whine again.
"You, Max. It's always been you," I groan when I make eye contact with him. I can see the smirk written all over his face.
Max dives back making me whine. When two of his fingers slip into my tight pussy I instantly scream in pleasure feeling my orgasm approach far faster than I wanted.
"You're fucking close already," Max pulls away slightly to making sure to keep finger fucking me making me moan and nod my head.
"Yes, daddy," I moan without thinking making both Max and I stop almost instantly and stare at each other.
"Daddy?" Max questions with a smirk and before I can even say anything he's fucking me with his fingers far faster than he was previously.
"Max I'm gonna fucking cum," I moan out making Max pull his fingers out leaving me on the edge.
"What the fuck," I shout sitting up slightly so I can look Max in the eyes.
"Awe, you thought I'd let you cum that easy?" Max questions with a smirk making me wanna slap his.
"5 minutes are up. I'm leaving," I say while trying to get up but Max is instantly holding me down not letting me move.
"You said I had 5 minutes to bring you to the edge of cumming, I did," Max says with a smirk taking my words far to literal than I would have hoped.
"Max just make me fucking cum," I say getting frustrated, never being good at handling being edged even though it's one of my favorite things.
"No, not until I get my little nickname again," Max says with a smirk making me scoff and shake my head no.
"Well until then I'm gonna enjoy this pussy," Max says before putting his fingers back into my pussy making me gasp before he starts licking my clit bringing all the pleasure flooding back into my body making me moan.
"Fuck, Max so good," I whine. I knew my orgasm was approaching but instead of announcing it, I tried to hide it.
"Always such a fucking brat," Max says when he pulls his fingers out and moves his mouth from my pussy denying my orgasm again.
"Max," I say seriously.
"No, you know what you need to do, and don't be a fucking brat and try to hide it. I know this body far more than you think," Max says sternly before sending a harsh slap on my pussy making me jump slightly.
Max doesn't waste much time to start playing with my pussy again and it doesn't take me long for my orgasm to slowly start approaching again.
"Fuck," I moan feeling myself crawling to the edging and needing to cum.
"Be a good girl, and you'll get what you want," Max says making me whine.
"Please Daddy, let me cum," I finally break down and beg how Max wanted. This had Max speeding up his actions and throwing me over the edge within moments.
"Fuck, Daddy," I scream when he keeps fucking me even after helping me ride through my orgasm.
"God, you scream too good," Max says finally pulling away after torturing me with overstimulation for a few moments.
When I catch my breath I sit up softly getting out of bed before standing in front of Max pulling him in for another kiss and starting to work on undressing him.
When Max is finally undressed I pushed him to sit on the edge of the bed before getting on my knees for him.
"Such a good whore" Max mumbles when he sees me on my knees getting ready to pull him into my mouth.
When I finally get ready to pull Max into my mouth I realize just how big he was. I hesitate slightly not knowing if I would be able to take him all the way into my mouth but decide there is only one way to find out.
When I pull his tip into my mouth I can taste the salty precum he was already leaking making me suck it up getting addicted on the taste.
When I start bobbing my head I realize Max would still have another inch or so left that I wouldn't be able to take into my mouth so I bring one of my hands to jerk off the rest.
"Fuck, your mouth is finally useful," Max says making me groan around his cock and pinch his thigh with my free hand.
When I pull back from Max's cock I feel the my spit trailing from his cock to my lips making the scene all the more erotic.
I take a few deep breaths before getting back to work on Max's cock needed to make him cum.
I could tell Max was getting close faster than I thought he would which had me bobbing my head faster trying to take all of him into my mouth, before Max is pushing my head down making me gag while he starts cumming down my throat.
I can feel some of his cum leak out of my lips from how hard I was gagging around his cock but Max didn't seem to care too much as it make his hips buck trying to ride his orgasm out.
"Swallow every last bit. NOW!" Max demands when he pulls my head from his dick making me swallow instantly.
"You're a messy slut now," Max says with a smirk making me look over to the mirror that was in the room. When I see my face I have tears running down my cheeks, my freshly washed hair was all over the place, all the while my lips were swollen and pink and covered in my spit and Max's cum. He was right I was messy.
Max roughly wipes my lips rubbing my spit and his cum smearing it on my cheek before he is pulling me in for a heated makeout session again.
"I need to feel that pussy around my cock," Max mumbles against my lips making me whine. I nod my head letting him know I wanted it too.
"Fuck me please daddy," I beg.
This has Max hauling me off my knees before being roughly tossed onto the bed where Max is on me within seconds.
We spent several minutes making out and grinding on each other before Max was fully around again and I was soaked.
I feel Max's cock teasing my entrance making me arch my back in anticipation. When he slowly starts pushing in making me whine at the stretch.
"I love stretching this pussy out," Max groans once he was fully filling me up, giving me only a few moments to adjust before he starts slowly rocking his hips making me whine.
"So big," I gasp out when I feel him hit my cervix for the 3rd time in a row. The pain and burn of being stretched was starting to fade and all I could feel was the pure pleasure coursing through my body now.
"I'm not gonna last Daddy," I moan out warning him of the strong orgasm that was currently impending.
"God, I love when I fuck the attitude out of you. Your wrapped around my cock like a fucking slut being all sweet now. If I would have known this would work I would've fucked you years ago," Max groans through clenched teeth making his thrust even harder but keeping the same brutally fast pace.
"I'm gonna cum daddy," I announce just before exploding into my first squirting orgasm making my pleasure fly all over both Max and I. I can hear Max groan but I'm so lost in the pleasure I don't even feel him pull out and start unleashing his load of cum all over my stomach.
"Fuck," Max shouts which finally brings me back enough making me realize I was now covered in cum, but I was far too blissed out to care.
Max only took a couple of seconds before he got up and threw on a pair of boxers. I knew if I tried to stand right now my legs would give out on me but I didn't want to overstay my welcome so I slowly start pulling myself out of bed feeling Max's cum start sliding down my body making me cringe slightly at the thought of putting my clothes on top of it.
"What are you doing," Max says while holding a rag and watching me attempt to get up.
"I figured you wanted me to leave," I tell him softly while still pulling myself together before standing up. But before my feet can even touch the ground Max is on me.
"Lay down," Max says softly showing me a completely new side of him. He starts with wiping my face down making sure to clean all of the spit and cum off of it before wiping my tummy clean of his cum before throwing the rag somewhere in the room and crawling into bed next to me.
"I might be a dick, but I would not let you stumble back to your hotel room covered in my cum like that," Max tells me softly pulling me into his chest so I can rest my head on him.
"Where do we go from here," I ask softly.
"I think we should start with being nicer to each other and maybe admitting there's always been more," Max replies making me nod my head.
"I know we did it backward but I don't want to rush anything," I tell him softly. He just nodded in agreement before pulling me in a little tighter.
" We don't rush anything but I want to be exclusive," Max says firmly.
"I can do that," I reply making him not his head.
"Fly home with me tomorrow," Max says randomly making me laugh a little.
"What happened to not rushing," I joke but nod my head in agreement knowing I definitely do want to fly with him. Even if it means exposing ourselves to a few of his grid friends.
It didn't take long for sleep to take over my body and right before I was fully asleep I felt Max place a soft kiss on the top of my head mumbling a soft I love you.
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sister-lucifer · 6 months ago
Note
I just want Brian to pull down my panties, cum in them, lift them back up, and send me on my way. I am down tremendously-
content/warnings: noncon, physical restraint, reader is AFAB and wears panties but no gender is specified, “cunt” and “pussy” used to describe reader’s genitalia, thigh fucking, pervert Brian, no actual penetrative sex, reader gets jumped in the woods, little to no build up/plot it’s just straight into the porn
Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio (request rules + masterlist in pinned post)!
Also, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out. Feedback is encouraged and appreciated:)
Without warning you’re suddenly shoved to the ground, a heavy weight coming down on your back to keep you there. You yelp in surprise as you feel a body land on top of yours, pushing you into the dirt and sending a sharp pain through your ribs as they bend beneath the force of two people. 
Your attempt to yell out is swiftly cut short when a gloved hand tangles itself in your hair, gripping it tightly as it muffles your cries with the soft dirt on the forest floor. You can feel the small rocks hidden in the soil leaving scrapes on your cheeks as you thrash.
The stranger’s second hand comes down on your back, grabbing at your waist to pull your ass into the air as he hastily, almost clumsily pulls up the bottom of your shirt. He fumbles with the waistband of your shorts, fingers slipping over your button as the fabric of his glove fights with him. He lets up on your hair for one second just so he can use both hands, violently yanking at the fasten of your jeans until it surrenders to his efforts with a harsh ripping sound. He pulls your zipper down so fast it nearly breaks, and even quicker still he’s jerking your shorts down your hips and then your thighs. You’re only allowed to lift your head long enough to cough and spit, wincing at the feeling of dirt in your teeth. You manage to turn and look back at your attacker for only a split second before your face is back against the ground. You whimper against the earth as the sight of the hooded man flashes before your eyes. 
You swear that you can hear him chuckle under his breath at the squeal that crawls up your throat as you feel him pulling eagerly at your panties. You thrash against him as much as you can, but despite your best efforts the pressure on your head and back keeps you disoriented. It’s clear what he wants, though; he lets up just a bit when you sit still. You’re tiring yourself out fast, and you both know it.
You shiver when your panties are pulled down to your knees, resting against the ground and exposing your delicate cunt to the eyes of this aggressive pervert. He smiles under his mask, an expression of absolute debauchery hidden behind black fabric and a sewn on red frown that’ll be burned into your memory forever. 
The strangled noise you let out when you feel him rut against your waiting pussy through his jeans is mortifying. The denim and its metal button are harsh against your sensitive flesh as the stranger practically humps you like a wild dog, hard on twitching in his pants. You can hear him huffing through his mask, breathing heavily through the gaps in his gritted teeth. He’s desperate, nearly rabid with need for a reason that’s beyond you. 
You freeze when you hear him fumble with his zipper, gloved knuckles brushing your back as he struggles with only thing keeping him restrained. A heavy gasp makes your body shake when you suddenly feel the already leaking tip of his cock brush against your thigh. 
“W-Wait, don’t—!” You stammer, thrashing even harder in his grip with the last of your energy. He shushes you harshly, fingers tightening harshly in your hair as a warning. 
“Don’t be so loud,” He whispers, “You’re fine. I ain’t gonna hurt ya unless you make me…” 
You squeak in surprise when his cock slides between your trembling thighs. You instinctively squeeze your legs together, only to cringe when he moans in response. He lets out a shuddering sigh of pleasure as he repositions himself over you, finally releasing your hair only to pin your hands down, wrapping your body in his to keep you still as he starts to thrust. The noises that are pulled from your throat every time he pushes forward are viscerally humiliating, especially the way your voice cracks when his shaft just barely brushes your clit, not once threatening to break through your entrance but taking horrid delight in using it for his own pleasure. He’s shameless in the noise he makes, huffing and groaning in your ear and cursing under his breath every time he moves. 
He barely keeps a steady pace, his desperation becoming apparent with each thrust. You can feel his cock twitch against your thighs as it slides between them, able to feel every vein that runs up the side, all of them pumping hard and fast with adrenaline and primal need. You shudder to think what it would’ve felt like had he decided to use your hole instead.
“H-Haah…you’re…g-getting wet,” He growls in your ear, as though it’s an insult. It may as well be. You whine and turn away from him, biting your lip and ignoring the fact that you can feel yourself soaking his cock and it slides against your cunt. 
You can feel him starting to tremble, and you know in an instant he won’t last much longer. You suck in a breath, silently hoping whatever he chooses to do won’t leave a mess on your back or thighs. You won’t be able to deal with it until you’ve made the trek all the way back down the trail. 
“Gonna…g-gonna cum—“ He whispers through gritted teeth. His hands squeeze around yours, grip getting tighter and tighter, almost to a painful degree as he chases his release with reckless abandon. He’s staring to lose whatever little bit of restraint he has left, and fast. 
All at once his resolve collapses, guttural noises of pleasure falling from his lips as his hips slam erratically against you. He barely manages to choke out one last word of warning before suddenly he stops, cock head barely nestled between your thighs as his entire body tenses and shakes with the force of an orgasm that nearly makes him cry out. He barely manages to strangle the sound before it leaves his throat, cock twitching as it releases hard and fast. You cringe in anticipation of feeling the sticky warmth trail down your thighs, but the sensation never comes. After a few moments you sigh, relieved to have been granted this one small mercy. 
You’re too dazed and dizzy to move when he finally gets up off of you. You stay on the ground despite your humiliating position, and despite the wicked chuckle your attacker allows to slip. 
His boots crunch on the ground, and for a moment you think he’s just going to walk away, leave you here to take care of yourself. Then you feel your panties being slid back up your thighs. You can only be confused for a moment before you’re struck with the uncomfortable feeling of your warm, soaking panties squeezing around the mound of your cunt. The substance is thick and unbearably sticky, not to mention far too much for it to have come from you, especially without an orgasm. 
You flinch and squeal as he fastens your shorts back in place around your waist, tightly keeping your panties in place and making sure you can’t escape the feeling of his cum soaking your pussy and threatening to stain your jeans. 
He stands back up, buttoning his jeans and adjusting his pants a bit before shoving his hands back in the pocket of his faded yellow hoodie. He’s silent for a moment, admiring his work with a hidden smirk spread across his face. 
“Better get walkin’, sweetheart,” He teases, toe of his boot nudging your pussy through your shorts, “It’s a loooong way home.”
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fieldsofwriting · 6 months ago
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And so, the stars aligned. Pt 6
Azriel x Archeron!sister Reader
Summary: Lunch with Tamlin goes about expected. And Azriel is a jealous man. Warnings: None!
Ageless and Minors DNI
Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five
Masterlist
Requests are open! a/n: I forgot to link the dress and stuff for part five- and maybe it's cringe to do that. But I am cringe, and I am free... and very bad at describing clothing. So here's the dress, and makeup
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After Tamlin, the ball was a blur. Truly, so much wine and dancing had your head spinning in a way that you had never experienced before. It left you feeling light as a feather, as giggly as a school girl. Much to the Inner Circle's delight because you found them hilarious. Cassian was making jokes left and right, making you laugh so hard you had to hold onto Azriel for stability. In your drunken state, you missed the way his gaze softened as he looked at you. Watching you with your sisters, which the only one who remained sober by the end of the night was Nesta. But Cassian drank in her stead. Leaving you Feyre, and him up to no good. However, Azriel hadn't let you leave his side since Tamlin had asked you to lunch. Even when you tried to lose him, his shadows were far more protective of you than he was. It was sweet to see the way the tendrils wrapped themselves around your waist and pulled you back into his side. You would look up at him with a pout. "Azriel!" You'd whine. "Tell them to let me go!"
He took a sip of his drink, trying to hide his smirk. "Sorry, princess. They have a mind of their own." He was even more satisfied when you looked at the shadows surrounding the two of you.
"You big meanies. I'm not gonna pet you if you keep acting up!" You drunkenly scolded. Azriel quirked an eyebrow when the shadows slithered away from your finger. Chuckling lowly, he wrapped his arm around your waist. And the Illyrian took pride in the way Tamlin's gaze hardened as he watched the two of you, He debated a gentle gasp as you reached one of your delicate hands reached up and touched his face. Pulling the shadowsingers gaze down. Watching you talk about something you just saw, learning that you were more observant than you let on.
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But now, he found himself arguing with a brick wall it seemed. “Y/n, I understand you have pure intentions but you can not sleep in my room.” He tried to explain softly, gently. His hands on your shoulders. Willing every part of him to behave because there was nothing he’d love more than to have you in his bed. Even just holding you for the night would make his heart soar. To be the last thing you saw, and the first thing.
“No!” You huff, arms crossed as you looked up at him. Rosey cheeks, your hair mused from dancing, your pout undeniably adorable. “I wanna sleep in here. Because you are nice, and you are warm! Mor snores!” You throw your hands up, loosing your balance as you flop onto the bed. “See the bed wants me here.”
Azriel laughs softly. Shaking his head, he knew he loved you. He really did. And normally he’d be flattered his mate was so sweet. But now, now it was an issue. Because he had to defy all of his primal tendencies to oblige your every wish. He scoops you up gently. Your head falling to his chest, lightly your fingers caress the tattoos of his that peak out. Azriel suppresses a shiver. “Come on princess. Let’s get you to bed.” He whispers, crossing the hallway. Earning snickers from the rest of his family. All of which he glared at, only stopping when he reached your room.
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The morning was spent nursing your hang over. Feyre, you and Cassian curled up on the couch being babied by everyone. Well- Rhys, Azriel and Nesta. Azriel had even gone as far as giving you some of the headache powder he got from Elian. You could have kissed him.
But now, you were back in your bedroom getting ready for lunch with Tamlin. Nesta brushing your hair, and she was much less gentle than Feyre. She didn’t care about delicately brushing out the snarls, she would just shush you when you protested. But eventually your hair had been braided into one large braid down your back. Mor placed flowers in the braid as Nesta worked on your makeup again. Dolling you up, despite your protests. “Stop wriggling, Y/n.” Nesta chides as she grabs your chin to force you to look at her. You huff, “I don’t want to look good for Tamlin!” You protest again. Trying to move away before Nesta forces you back. Her blue/grey eyes looking at you with an intensity that would have made anyone else wither.
“You have too. Looking like a goddess while you chip away at his frail little ego will just make It hurt worse. And that’s what you want. You want him to know that he can’t have you. But this is what he’s missing.” She explains, barely giving you time to recover as she brushes on a light pink eyeshadow, adding a golden shimmer on top of it.
In the end, you wore a simple pink gown. Something that was sweet, innocent. Like the princesses in the fairytales you read with Azriel. Your shoulders laid bare, the sleeves were short- frilly. The sweetheart neckline doing little to hide your frame. The front corset, designed with small intricate roses on it. You spun, the dress poofing upwards. You hated to admit it. But you would be happy to break Tamlin’s heart in it. In this dress you looked as if you belonged in the Spring Court. So to deny his offer? It be poetic. Nesta wore a simple gown with you as well, her’s a more diluted green. She’d looked out of place next to the vibrant colors of the spring court. But you and your sister descended the stairs, everyone waiting for you once again. You smiling softly at all of them. Azriel’s eyes never left yours. You could have killed him, and he would have thanked you. Truthfully. You looked like a day dream walking down the stairs. Smiling at them like you weren’t about to walk into the lions den. He would have followed you blindly anywhere. Gladly. With pleasure.
“Are you ready?” Rhys looks at you with a strained smile. You give a little nod.
“As ready as I can. I can deny him again right?” You anxiously ask Rhys, you knew he wanted an alliance with Tamlin. And your brother in law might be a snake sometimes, but you were almost positive he wouldn’t force you on dates. Rhys shakes his head, “No. You won’t have to see him again after this. Unless you want to. And if words fail you again, that’s why you have Nesta.” He gives a nod to your older sister. Nesta takes your hand and gives a little squeeze.
Smiling appreciatively up at her, you felt ready to have this lunch. Tamlin wouldn’t get to you.
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“You look beautiful, Y/n.” Tamlin bows, taking your hand and placing a gentle kiss on it. You have to stop yourself from recoiling at his touch, but the cooling feeling of Azriel’s shadows wrapping around your ankles again helps calm you. Keep you grounded, quickly flicking your eyes up to where Azriel told you he’d be- tucked away in the shadows of the garden. You smiled. The shadows gave you a gentle squeeze back. Azriel, already wanted to kill Tamlin. But seeing the way he made you recoil? It made his blood boil. The only saving grace for Tamlin touching his mate was the fact Azriel knew you wouldn’t be going home with him.
“Thank you.” You murmur as he leads you to sit. A small intimate lunch. Just his seat, yours and Nesta’s. You had to force another smile at him as you sat. “Your Court is lovely.” You speak gracefully. “I hadn’t expected it to be so lush when we arrived.” Tamlin smiled and nodded.
“Yes, it is, isn’t it?” He allowed the servants to come up and give you a plate of food. Small salads and sandwiches. All things that were light. “I suppose I have your sister to thank for that. After ruining my Court…and letting it go to ruin. I looked at it only to realize that I was still running it the way my father had. And I didn’t need to. So, I took control back and let myself rebuild.” He explains to you, and you can see the sparkle in his eye as he does. He was truly happy, and he meant the words coming out of his mouth.
“I’m glad.” You offer, “I didn’t agree with her actions…but sometimes there is necessary evils that must take place for peace to prosper.” You give Tamlin your own gentle smile.
And conversation continues from there. Nothing out of place, or out of pocket. Tamlin even spoke to Nesta a few times, though Nesta just responded with pointed looks.
Azriel approved.
But all said and done, Tamlin was a gentleman. You could see how Feyre fell from him, how you could have fallen for him. But every time that thought crossed your mind, the shadows that curled around your ankle tightened. And at one point when you leaned down to try and brush them away- getting lost in your day dream of what life would be like here. They appeared as shackles. Reminding you what Tamlin had done to your sister. You didn’t finish your food.
Azriel’s eyes narrowed at the way you pushed away the plate. He noted that you’d have to eat more before you out to the ball tonight.
“You had quite a bit of fun at the ball last night, no?” Tamlin asked, looking at you over the rim of his wine glass. Your cheeks heated, looking away from him as you nodded. A small chuckle from him pulled your gaze back. “No worries, that is what the night was for. I’m just glad you enjoyed yourself. You got home alright?”
Nesta scoffs. “If you’re implying that we’d let her wonder your courts drunker than a skunk you’d be wrong.” You lightly kick her shin. “She went home with us, slept alone in her own bed. You needn’t worry about her maidenhood or anything of the sorts.” You felt your face heat again at her words as you shuffled uncomfortably in your seat. You felt exposed, embarrassed…you didn’t want to be here anymore. The feeling unknowingly being pushed down the bond. Azriel gritted his teeth, but kept quiet. Trying to push a sense of calm down the bond to you.
The cooling sensation of shadow washed up and down your leg. Gently trying to coax your fears down. You could have cried in relief to feel something so normal. But that relief was quickly taken as Tamlin stiffed. “I simply wanted to ensure she was safe. I implied nothing about her maidenhood. Nor do I care if it was intact or not. Feyre’s wasn’t.”
You felt a surge of anger from deep within. “That is my sister.” You say sharply. Glaring at Tamlin. “And my High Lady. Be careful how you speak of her.”
Tamlin’s eyes bore into yours as his nose wrinkles in disgust. “Tell me y/n. Would you require me to crown you High Lady?”
You felt the shadows grow still at his question. Azriel held his breath, if you had said yes? Did that mean you wanted to be a high lady? Something he couldn’t give you? Nesta’s eyes watching you intently. “I would require nothing of you.” You say simply, nodding your head to him. “Because I will not be with you- nor should a partner require another partner to value them. You shouldn’t have to ask for those things. If I truly mattered to you- and you say you have changed. Then making me a High Lady would be no different than seeing me as your equal.” You look to Nesta. “I wish to leave.”
Nesta’s mouth curls up into a smile. She stands and looks at Tamlin. “Thank you for your kindness.” Before offering you a hand, and you quickly take it. Not looking back at Tamlin. Azriel had never more proud.
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As soon as you were out of ear shot from Tamlin, Azriel appeared. Taking you in his arms and holding you tightly. The shadows wrapping around you two, and from your place- buried in his neck you felt his wings wrap around you too. ”You did such a good job…” He whispers into your hair. He reveled in the way your shoulders unclenched and held onto him tighter. Your whole body practically falling into his, soaking up his warmth and comfort.
”I wanna go back to the cottage.” You whisper. Before you know it, your feet are off the ground. Moving through shadows as you winnow back.
Azriel doesn’t let you go. Bringing you back up to his room, in his defense. Nesta motioned her head to do so, so he figured she’d go fill in Rhys. Opening his door, he gently laid you on the bed. Going to back up and let you rest- but you reached out to him. “Don’t go…not yet.” You whisper as you look at him with pleading eyes. And he is a weak man. Especially after seeing you with another male today. He had no choice but to crawl into bed with you, tucking you under his arm as he runs his thumb over your temple. “Thank you…” Your voice is soft, your eyes closed as you relax further into him. Azriel prays to the Mother that you can’t hear how fast his heart is beating.
“You don’t have to thank me.” He says quietly. Using the shadows to pull a blanket up and around you too. “I didn’t do anything.”
You shake your head, sitting up a little to look at him. “The shadows. They gave me strength. Reminded me that I wasn’t going to be free with Tamlin when my mind wondered. Your shadows gave me the strength to speak my mind. So thank you.”
Azriel smiles at you, cupping your cheek as he looks at you with a sincerity in his eyes. “My shadows didn’t give you anything you didn’t already have. You are strong Y/n. Don’t forget that.” He presses a kiss to your forehead. “Now, I can feel it in my old bones. You need a nap.” He pulls you down into him. Laughing quietly at his actions you settle in for a nap. ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
a/n: The next part will have another part at the ball!! I wasn't sure if I should have added it to this part or not...but let me know what you guys think! If you wanna be added to the taglist- click here! taglist: @sidthedollface2 @cat-or-kitten @impossibelle @brunette-barbie1220 @scatteredstardustt @sammanna @cherry-cin @tele86 @judig92 @lana08 @stained-glass-eyes0708 @oucereeng @persephonesalvatore @fightmedraco @juniperberriesaries @whatdoyxumean @harrystyke21 @tenshis-cake @5onedirection5 @bubybubsters @its-sam-allgood @natashachelsea @brieflyclassymortal @thecraziestcrayon @cherryinsalemverse @sourapplex @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @waggel36 @oucereeng @bunnyredgirl @kookie4life @mybestfriendmademe @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @mp-littlebit @caticorn61 @prettylittlewrites @lilah-asteria @thewulf @st4r-girl-official @nightsbite @nickishadow139 @dee-writes-smut @naturakaashi
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yannawayne · 3 months ago
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vi. what's up danger?
SYNOPSIS: "Alright, let's do this one last time. My name is Y/N Kyle. I was bitten by a radioactive spider, And I've been the one and only Spidey in Gotham. I’m pretty sure you know the rest." PAIRING: Older! Damian Wayne/Fem! Reader TAGS: Established relationship, Wounds, Violence, Surgical procedures, Panic Attacks, Arguments AO3: yenwayne SERIES LINK: gotham's only spidey
<- PREVIOUS | NEXT ->
NOTE: THIS IS PART 6. I POSTED 2 CHAPTERS TODAY! PART 5 IS HERE
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"No sign of activity. Just monitoring. Slow night."
"Figured," Nightwing's voice spoke up. "There is a storm."
“Ishth Gotham,” Jason's voice chimed in, muffled as if he was chewing something. “When isn’t there a storm?”
"Are you eating right now?" Tim's voice squeaked with disbelief, the sound sharp and incredulous over the comms. "Again? Really?"
"Yeah?" Jason retorted, taking another bite of whatever he was munching on. "A guy's gotta eat. Maybe if you actually ate more, you wouldn’t be so scrawny, Timberland."
"I'm fit!" Tim snapped back, voice cracking. "And can you please stop using my name? We have codenames for a reason."
"You're the genius who called yourself 'Drake'."
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Friday, 8:35 AM - Gotham Academy, Gotham City.
The halls of Gotham Academy buzzed with the usual chatter and laughter—a total disconnect from the storm of nerves brewing inside you. You zigzagged through the crowd, your trusty, battle-worn Converse scuffing against the linoleum. Damian’s varsity jacket hung over your uniform, the hood pulled low to hide the cuts on your face.
Morgan had ditched you at the entrance, probably off to plot some mad science in the labs. Not exactly your idea of fun, so you opted for aimless wandering instead.
And if I only could I'd make a deal with God.  And I'd get Him to swap our places.  Be runnin' up that road.  Be runnin' up that hill  Be runnin' up that building. 
Your headphones were snug, the music offering a temporary refuge as you walked, your head instinctively nodding to the beat. Even with the volume cranked up, you couldn’t shake the awareness of every shift in the crowd, the way the jacket rubbed against your sore muscles, or the stiffness in your back and arm from the muscle tear. Concerned whispers drifted past you, catching on the currents of passing conversations, but you kept moving, trying to lose yourself in the rhythm of the song.
When you reached Damian’s locker, you leaned against it, letting the cool metal soothe your aching back. You adjusted the hood of his jacket, tugging it further down to hide the cuts around your face. With your free hand, you quickly typed out a message to Damian, your fingers flying over the screen, each tap a small burst of nervous energy.
You:
"At your locker."
You hit send, slipped your phone back into your pocket, then immediately pulled it out again. This time, you opened Twitter, your thumb instinctively scrolling through your feed for any updates on the recent incident.
Tweets about the attack were already trending, paired with blurry photos and clickbait headlines. You cringed as fan accounts for #Nightcrawler started flooding in. It was wild how fast the public’s attention could flip from genuine concern to a full-blown obsession with the latest hero—or villain. 
You sighed, the tension in your shoulders building as you scrolled through the flood of posts.
“Beloved?”
A tanned hand brushed gently against your arm, followed by the sight of polished brown dress shoes stepping into view.
“Dami,” you murmured with a relieved smile, leaning into his hold, your head still bowed.
Damian instinctively pulled you into a hug, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. The embrace was firm but careful, as if he feared you might break under too much pressure. He could feel the stiffness in your muscles, your body wound tight with unspoken tension. His eyes narrowed with concern, but he stayed silent, letting the quiet speak for both of you.
His gaze flicked to your phone screen, catching sight of the trending tweets.
“Nightcrawler…” Damian murmured, and you lifted your head just enough to meet his eyes.
Sighing, you shifted so your cheek rested against his chest, the cool scent of his cologne grounding you. You kept scrolling, clicking on a particularly cringeworthy tweet and wincing at the fanatical comments.
“Can you believe these people?” you murmured, frustration seeping into your voice. “It’s insane.”
Sometimes you wondered how Damian and his brothers dealt with all the fanatics, the constant drooling over their hero personas—or even their civilian lives.
Damian’s grip tightened as he held you closer, his brow furrowing in disapproval as he read the tweets over your shoulder.
Repulsive. To him, it was a grotesque spectacle. The media had managed to paint the Spider into a celebrated hero, a figure of admiration, when in reality, the person behind that mask was nothing more than a monster, cloaked in deception and false heroism.
“They’re utterly obsessed,” Damian scoffed. “It’s as if they’ve completely forgotten there’s a real person behind that mask.”
“I know, right?” You sighed, closing Twitter and slipping your phone back into your pocket. “Like, I really don’t want to see those posts. They’re just—so much.”
Damian noticed your distress and instinctively started rubbing soothing circles on your back. But as his hand moved, a sharp muscle spasm seized your shoulder. You cursed, a wince escaping you as the sensation left you momentarily frozen. It felt as if someone had taken a wrench to your shoulder, yanking and twisting until every fiber protested in sharp, jarring bursts. 
Damian’s hand froze.
Muscle tear. He realized.
Without a word, he guided you gently into a nearby janitor’s closet. The door clicked shut behind you, cutting off the noise of the bustling hallway and granting you both some much-needed privacy. 
Inside, he carefully placed his hand on your elbow and began to stretch the affected muscle. You winced as a sharp twinge of pain flared, but Damian’s voice was soft and soothing.
“It’s okay,” he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple,  offering a small but comforting distraction from the pain.
Gradually, the pain eased, and you let out a sigh of relief. Your shoulders relaxed, the tight knots unwinding.
"I love you and your weird Robin skills," you said with a grateful smile, rolling your shoulders and feeling the tension dissipate.
Damian’s lips twitched into a faint, approving smile, though his voice remained gruff. “Love you too.”
He continued to watch you with a keen, sharp gaze, noticing the hood of your hoodie pulled up. His eyes traced the shadowy outline of your face, and he realized he hadn’t seen it clearly. His expression shifted to one of concern, a frown creasing his brow.
“Why haven’t you taken your hood down?” he asked quietly, his voice low and probing.
You pursed your lips, trying to edge toward the exit. But before you could make a clean getaway, Damian’s hand shot out, gripping your arm and yanking you back into him. You collided with his chest, and for a second, it felt like you’d just hugged a brick wall in a hoodie.
“And where do you think you’re going?” 
“Uh, nowhere, apparently,” you sighed, realizing escape wasn’t in the cards today.
“Look. I just didn’t want to get my hair messed up,” you continued, trying to sound casual, but the words felt hollow in the small, enclosed space.
“Oh yeah…?” Damian murmured in disbelief, his voice thick with something darker. His eyes narrowed, and without warning, he bent down to your height, his rough fingers sliding up your jacket. You felt the fabric shift and the warmth of his hand against your side.
You swallowed hard, your hands instinctively bracing against his shoulders. Your nails dug into the fabric of his uniform as you tried to push him back.
“Pull the hood off,” he demanded, his hands working insistently to tug it up. You sputtered out protests, swatting at his hands, but Damian was relentless. “Habibti, let me see! Pull it up—let me see!”
Your grip on the hood tightened, your knuckles going white as you held on for dear life. But Damian’s concern bulldozed through any resistance you put up. He mumbled curses, and suddenly shifted tactics. Bending down, his hands slid under your thighs, lifting you effortlessly. He pinned you against the wall, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist as your weight pressed into his hips.
"Damian, stop!" you groaned, trying to push him away.
But he ignored your plea, yanking the hood off. His eyes widened in shock as he took in the full extent of your injuries. Cuts and bandages marred your face, some fresh, others scabbing over. Dark bruises colored your cheek, spreading out like ominous clouds.
“Who did this to you?” he demanded, even though he was already cursing a certain spider vigilante in his head. Damian dipped his head low, his dangerous glare cutting through you. “Tell me who hurt you, and I’ll make them pay.”
“Baby, you’re being melodramatic. It’s just a few bruises,” you deflected, avoiding his gaze. “I’ll survive.”
“Plus, it’s not like you can just go around punching everyone who hurts me,” you huffed, wincing as you tried to pull your hood back up. Damian scowled and yanked it down again.
“Yes, I can.”
“Oh my god,” you said, raising an eyebrow and trying to stifle a smile. “I hate you so much.”
Damian tightened his hold, his eyes flashing with irritation. “Our relationship status says otherwise. And I’m not letting go until I get answers.”
You squirmed in his embrace, attempting to free yourself, but he held you tightly. “Seriously, let go.”
“No.”
“You’re going to miss your first period.”
“And?”
“Your education will be in ruins.”
“Beloved, my GPA is already at a 5.0. I’ve been at the top of my class since junior high. Missing one period won’t ruin my future.”
You groaned and grabbed the nearest object—a mop. Raising it in a mock-threatening manner, you declared, “I’m seriously considering hitting you with this until you let me go.”
Damian gave a flat “Tch,” raising a hand to the metal handle. With a casual squeeze, he bent the metal in half effortlessly. You blinked.
Okay, that's a little annoying, but also super, super, super hot.
“Seriously? You’re showing off now?” you huffed, crossing your arms.
“Showing off?” Damian arched an eyebrow. “I’m merely proving a point.”
“I can handle myself!” you insisted, frustration creeping into your voice.
“Clearly,” he shot back, eyes narrowing. “That’s why you’re covered in cuts and bruises.”
“Fuck you,” you snapped, your irritation bubbling over.
“I would be delighted to,” Damian replied, his tone dripping with syrupy sweetness that was equal parts enticing and infuriating.
"Ugh!" you groaned, pulling the hood back over your face in a futile attempt to hide.
“Drop the theatrics and tell me what happened,” he sighed, tugging the hood back down. “I need to know so I can handle it.”
“I already handled it! I just need some rest, okay?” you retorted, rubbing a hand over your tired eyes. "I can fight my own battles, thank you very much."
Damian’s jaw tightened at your response, setting off alarm bells in his head. He’d need to dig deeper—because if there was one thing he was certain of, it was that you weren’t giving him the full story.
"You're not telling me everything," he said firmly. "But I’ll find out. I always do."
“Uh-huh, sure," you said, rolling your eyes as you grabbed him by the front of his uniform and yanked him closer. “You’re such a control freak, you know that?”
Damian scowled, leaning in until his forehead pressed against yours. “And you’re impossibly stubborn.”
“Yeah, well, you’re nosy.”
“Nosy?” He raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking. “I prefer the term thorough.”
“Right,” you said, barely holding back a laugh. You shook your head with a smile and leaned in, brushing your lips against his. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, honey.”
Damian’s eyes softened as he closed the distance between you. You melted into him, pulling him into a tender kiss. Damian hummed softly, the vibration tickling your lips and adding a cozy warmth to the moment. He kissed you again, and again, each one a little more affectionate than the last. Your laughter bubbled up, breathy and light, as you both got caught in a playful rhythm. His nose nudged against yours, and you couldn’t help but giggle.
The sudden ringing of the school bell cut through the moment.
“Mmph!” You pulled back slightly, a smile tugging at your lips as you gently stroked his cheek. “You… probably should get to class.”
It took a few more (okay, a lot more) minutes before Damian finally let you go. You practically had to wrestle your way out of his arms, like he was a kid clinging to a favorite toy. When you told him to go back to class instead of tagging along with you and Morgan, he sulked like a toddler.
Despite his stormy mood, you managed to convince him to head back. As you both stepped out of the closet, Damian trudged away with a grumble, throwing one last dramatic look over his shoulder.
“Behave yourself,” you laughed, waving him away before setting off to find Morgan.
When you finally spotted her by the entrance, she was holding up a flash drive like it was the Holy Grail. Meanwhile, you looked like you’d just been through a whirlwind: your hair was a tousled mess, your jacket was askew, and your tie was twisted at an odd angle. 
“Got the goods?” you asked, breathless as you straightened your tie and smoothed down your messy hair.
“Yep,” Morgan said with a grin, her eyes darting to your state of disarray. “Damn. A janitor’s closet, huh? I see it got pretty heated in there.”
“Yeah, yeah,” you said, scoffing and giving her a kick to the shin. “Nothing happened, you ass. We were just talking. I had to practically wrestle my way out because he was going nuts over my injuries.”
Morgan chuckled, tucking the flash drive into her pocket. “Looks like you’ve got your hands full with him.”
You raised an eyebrow at her. "How did you know it was the janitor’s closet, anyway?"
“CCTV,” Morgan simply shrugged. “Was checking out the live feed for security. And I figured you two were up to something when I saw you both ducking out of the room. The system was laughably easy to hack into. I was honestly surprised.”
“You’re Tony Stark’s daughter,” you snarked. “Anything less than government-level encryption is basically child’s play for you.”
Morgan grinned. “True that. But there’s one tiny issue.” She raised a finger and twirled it in the air. “I might have tripped a few alarms.”
WEE-OWW-WEE-OWW!
The distant blare of sirens cut through the air, growing louder with each passing second. Red and blue lights began to flicker through the windows.
You stared at Morgan, incredulous. 
“What. What the fuck!? What did you do?”
“Let’s just say security’s gonna be a bit more interested in our location now. Oopsie!” Morgan’s grin widened. “I had to shut down some things to avoid detection. So, the power’s going to go out in 3…2…1.”
As she finished her countdown, the lights flickered erratically before plunging the hallway into complete darkness. A heartbeat later, the wail of the announcement system cut through the silence, urgently repeating, “Please evacuate the building. Please evacuate immediately.” The strobing red emergency lights cast frantic shadows, and chaos erupted as students screamed, darting from classrooms and colliding in the dark.
Morgan spread her arms wide, a triumphant grin plastered across her face as if she’d just dropped a mic. “Boom.”
“What the hell about this screams ‘stealth’ to you?” you whisper-shouted, grabbing Morgan’s hand and pulling her toward the exit.
Morgan’s eyes gleamed with excitement as she squeezed your hand in return. "It’s way more fun this way."
You both sprinted down the dimly lit corridor, your footsteps echoing through the hallways and mingling with the blaring alarms.
Turning a corner, you nearly collided with a group of students stumbling through the chaos. Their faces were masks of panic. One of them tripped, sprawling onto the floor with an undignified thud.
“Watch it! Are you okay?” you shouted, skidding to a halt and kneeling to help the fallen student.
Morgan, unable to hold back, burst into laughter. “Dumbasses!”
You shot her a half-angry, half-exasperated look. “Just get us out of here before we get arrested for public disturbance!”
“Right behind you!” Morgan said, grabbing your hand again and pulling you both into a sprint. As you neared the exit, the muffled voices of security personnel grew louder, rushing to restore power. With one last burst of speed, you burst through the exit doors, the alarms fading into the distance.
Morgan looked over at you, her face glowing with sweat and a victorious grin. “And that’s how you make an exit.”
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Friday - The Safehouse, Gotham City.
After your adrenaline-pumping escape and a bumpy ride across the city in an Uber that looked like it had seen better days—note to self: next time, cab— you finally made it back to the safehouse.
Morgan was already at the main table, surrounded by a chaotic sea of files and documents spread out across multiple screens. Her eyes were locked onto the flash drive she’d pulled from the school, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she sifted through the data.
A few steps away, you were hunched over a cluttered workbench in the tech area, surrounded by spools of web fluid and a mess of metal tools. The entire day had been spent tinkering, but finally, your whip project was coming together.
With a few final tweaks, you picked up the whip and gave it a few test swings. 
You couldn’t help but think back to when you were a kid, watching Selina work her whip with that effortless skill. You’d sit in the corner of the training room, eyes wide, totally mesmerized. She made it look so easy, so natural. Inspired, you’d sneak off to your room after her sessions, grabbing whatever you could find—a belt, a rope, anything that even remotely resembled a whip. You’d slam the door behind you and practice in secret.
Sometimes you’d catch a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror—awkward, stumbling, and kind of a hot mess—but you didn’t give a damn. You’d keep at it, again and again, dead set on matching her skill, even if it meant looking like a total idiot in the process.
CRACK!
Morgan jumped, her chair spinning around as she stared at you with wide eyes. You couldn't help but grin as you sauntered toward her, twirling the whip around your body. The webbing swirled through the air, curving gracefully around you in a move straight out of Catwoman's playbook. With a final flourish, you cracked it down onto the floor, the sharp snap echoing through the room.
Morgan’s ears flushed red, and she shifted in her chair, clearly taken aback. “Woah. That’s hot as fuck.”
You laughed, tossing her a wink. “Glad you think so. I was channeling my inner Catwoman.”
Still a bit flustered, Morgan cleared her throat and extended her hand. You placed the whip into her palm, and she inspected it closely, her fingers tracing the intricate details of your craftsmanship.
“Seriously, though,” she said, looking up at you, “Where’d you learn to handle a whip like that?”
You shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Just a little bit of practice, you know? I’ve had some pretty good teachers.”
Your gaze then shifted to her screen, where a file on Ivy's toxins was open. Charts, chemical structures, and old lab notes cluttered the display.
“Thought you were going through Octavius’ files?” you asked.
“Oh, I was," Morgan handed the whip back to you with a shrug.
"But then I stumbled on this.” She pointed at the screen. “Insane, right? Did you know Gotham University lets their Botany majors examine Ivy’s toxins? There are detailed reports from student lab projects—college students analyzing some seriously dangerous stuff. Who thinks that's a good idea?”
You arched an eyebrow. “It’s Gotham University. Top in the country. They probably consider it a rite of passage. It’s not like the city holds back on the bizarre.”
Morgan shook her head, her disbelief morphing into a bemused smile. “Seriously, though, it’s even in their chemistry curriculum. ‘Advanced Chemistry: How to Survive Ivy’s Toxins 101.’ Like, what kind of class is that?”
You chuckled. “Sounds like standard Gotham fare. The city has a way of turning even the most mundane academic subjects into survival skills.”
As you stared at the file, your mind drifted to Ivy—Pamela Isley, who had once been a big part of your life. Back when she was close with Selina, you even used to call her Aunt Isley. It felt right at the time, natural, given how much she was around.
One memory stood out: Ivy had to leave town, and she’d entrusted Selina with her beloved plants. You were just a kid, but you remember how excited you were to have Ivy’s vibrant greenery filling the place. Selina had promised to take good care of them, but… she forgot. Just plain forgot to water them.
When Ivy returned, the plants were withered and dead. For someone like Ivy—an eco-terrorist with a green thumb so legendary she could probably make a cactus bloom in a snowstorm—this was more than just a mistake. It felt like a betrayal.
The fallout was brutal. Ivy was livid, and Selina was wrecked. If you hadn’t been there to calm things down, Ivy might’ve strangled Selina with a vine on the spot.
Morgan sighed dramatically, pushing her chair back from the screen and stretching like a cat. "I’m so over these files," she announced, spinning around to face you with a mischievous glint in her eye. "We need to do something fun."
You raised an eyebrow, intrigued as she started navigating through a map on her command center. "What are you up to?"
"Finding us a little adventure," she replied, her grin widening as she zoomed in on a spot on the outskirts of Gotham. "Look at this—an old, supposedly abandoned greenhouse. Rumor has it, it’s still full of Ivy’s plants. We should go check it out."
You blinked, taken aback by the suggestion. "You want to go trespassing in an abandoned greenhouse filled with potentially dangerous plants?"
Morgan shrugged with a carefree grin. "Why not? It’s way more exciting than sitting here with these boring files. Besides, think of the intel we could gather! Maybe even some samples. If you're serious about this hero thing, having some cures on hand could be pretty useful."
You raised an eyebrow. "Last time I checked, my focus was on tech companies. Not plants."
Morgan leaned back in her chair, throwing her hands up. "C'mon, it’ll be fun! We could call it a ‘field trip’ for our mission."
You scoffed, but a smirk tugged at your lips as you grabbed your glasses. “I thought you were supposed to be the smart and responsible one among the two of us?”
Morgan shot you a playful smile as she grabbed her jacket. “Smart enough to know when we need a break.”
She slung her jacket over her shoulder with a casual flick. “And who knows? We might stumble into something interesting or at least have a hell of a time.”
You laughed, shaking your head. “Fine, but if this turns into a mess, you’re the one explaining it to Tony.”
“Deal,” Morgan grinned, heading toward the door. “Now let’s get out of here before I lose my mind.”
 ༻⊰───⋅
Saturday, 12:34 AM - Ivy's 'Abandoned' Warehouse, Gotham City.
The moon hung high in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the overgrown landscape as you swung through the rainy Gotham air. Raindrops pattered against your suit, mixing with the cool breeze as you guided both yourself and Morgan down toward the warehouse’s perimeter. You landed softly on the other side of the fence, the wet ground beneath you squelching slightly.
The warehouse loomed in the distance, shrouded in shadows and engulfed by a thick veil of greenery. Vines and creeping plants had swallowed the building, twisting their way up the walls and breaking through the broken windows. Shrubs and wild foliage sprawled across the once-smooth concrete, creating a tangled jungle that had overtaken the area.
You and Morgan navigated through the thick underbrush, your footsteps muffled by the lush carpet of foliage. 
“Welcome to the jungle,” Morgan whispered, adjusting her glasses as raindrops collected on the lenses. She reached for a flashlight, flicking it on to cut through the gloomy darkness.
“Did you really have to pick the creepiest spot in Gotham?” you muttered, glancing around warily. Your spider senses buzzed faintly, a low hum that told you to stay alert, though you weren’t entirely sure what you should be on the lookout for.
As you approached the warehouse’s entrance, you noticed the heavy wooden doors were slightly ajar, propped open by a stubborn vine wedged in the gap. You took a few steps back, then charged at the door with all your might. It crashed inward with a resounding clang, sending splinters flying and the vine recoiling.
CLANG!
You kicked the door aside and stepped into a scene that looked like something straight out of a botanical horror movie. The interior of the warehouse was a riot of green. Hanging plants and tendrils formed a dense canopy overhead. The remnants of old plant pots and scientific equipment were half-buried under layers of creeping vines and moss.
“Keep your eyes peeled for anything useful,” you said, stepping inside.
The plan was simple: infiltrate the location, gather as much information as possible, and leave before anyone even noticed you were there.
Your boots squelched slightly on the damp ground as you made your way further into the labyrinth of greenery. Morgan followed close behind, her flashlight beam scanning the surroundings.
“Looks like she really made herself at home. Can’t believe she’d leave all these beauties behind,” she murmured.
After a few minutes of searching, you stumbled upon a makeshift lab tucked away in a corner of the warehouse. Old tables and shelves, now covered in a thick layer of dust and grime, held an assortment of glassware, old notebooks, and strange samples.
Morgan’s eyes lit up as she approached the lab. “This must be it! Look at all this stuff.”
Kneeling down, she began sifting through the clutter, her flashlight revealing dusty glassware, faded notebooks, and a variety of botanical samples in various states of preservation. She carefully picked up a few jars, examining the contents with growing fascination.
You stood guard by the door, senses on high alert. The slow hum of your spider senses gradually intensified, morphing into a persistent, almost blaring buzz in the back of your mind. It felt like a magnetic pull, drawing your focus to every flicker of shadow and rustle of the unseen. 
Morgan, oblivious to your heightened alertness, was engrossed in a particularly worn notebook.
"This is so fucking cool," she said, her eyes wide with excitement. "Check out these notes—they look like they’re from Ivy’s earlier research. She was experimenting with ways to boost plant growth, mixing toxins, and even concocting some kind of antidote."
As Morgan continued to study the notebook, the buzzing in your senses grew stronger. You tensed, feeling a prickling chill race up your spine and the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. There was something else in the warehouse—something you couldn’t immediately identify, but it was there.
“Morgan,” you said quietly. “I’m getting a bad feeling.”
Morgan looked up from her work, fingers curled around a test tube. “What do you mean?”
“Just keep your eyes open,” you warned, eyes narrowing as you scanned the shadows. “Start packing up and be quick. Something doesn’t feel right.”
Morgan’s fingers flew over the lab equipment as she grabbed several samples and shoved them into her bag. The air seemed to grow thicker, the plants rustling with an almost eerie liveliness.
!!!
“We need to go. Now!” you hissed, urgently grabbing Morgan and pulling her to her feet.
Morgan flinched but scrambled up, stuffing the worn notebook she’d found into her jacket. “Alright… let me just—”
Before she could finish, your spider senses exploded into a full-blown scream of warning.
DANGER.
“Get down!”
Without warning, you grabbed Morgan and pushed her down behind some crates, your suit beginning to uncloak.
A thick vine lashed out from the shadows, slamming into your side with a force that knocked the wind out of you. Pain exploded where the vine struck, radiating through your ribs as you skidded backward and crashed into a metal rack.
Your helmet hadn’t fully materialized in time, and the impact with the shelving unit sent a jarring shock through your skull, leaving you dazed and disoriented.
"A little spider has wandered into my web~"
Shit.
Warmth trickled down from your forehead where the impact had split the skin. With a shaky breath, you pushed yourself off the rack, using it for support as you steadied yourself.
"Hello, crazy plant lady," you quipped, your helmet materializing as the voice modulator kicked in.
You weren’t her estranged niece now; you were Nightcrawler, Gotham's latest hero.
From above, Ivy unfurled herself from the ceiling, smirking as she lounged on a sprawling leaf. Vines curled around her with languid grace, reacting to her slightest gesture as if extensions of her will.
"Ah, Gotham's newest little hero," Ivy's voice was a melodious yet chilling purr, her laughter echoing softly through the warehouse. "What brings you to my sanctuary?"
The slits in your mask narrowed as you drew your claws and unclipped your whip from your belt. Ivy’s eyes narrowed at the choice of weapons, a flicker of recognition in her gaze. She was clearly connecting the similarities between you and Catwoman.
"Oh, just swinging by to see what all the fuss is about. Heard you've been busy in Gotham."
Ivy's smile sharpened, a glint of admiration lighting up her emerald eyes.
"Hm. Spunk," she purred, hands moving to tangle in her hair. "I do appreciate that in my visitors."
Out of the corner of your visor, you spotted Morgan inching away. You gave her a discreet nod, signaling her to keep going while you kept your focus locked on Ivy.
"So, this place wasn’t as abandoned as I thought," you said, trying to keep Ivy talking and distracted. "For someone who supposedly retired from the spotlight, you sure know how to throw a party."
Ivy threw her head back and laughed. "Retired?" she repeated. "Oh, honey, you have no idea."
Around you, vines stirred, their sinewy tendrils snaking up your legs like snakes. Unfazed, you subtly shifted your weight, and then, with a swift slash of your claws, the vines split apart. You flipped away, slipping out of their grasp with ease.
“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice when my darlings are disturbed?” Ivy’s voice dripped with mockery. “Just when I finally manage to reclaim this space from concrete and steel, pests like you decide to get curious.”
“Look, I’ve got a busy schedule,” you quipped, narrowly dodging a lashing vine. “So how about we skip the tango and save us both a night of pain?”
“Oh, you’re simply delightful,” Ivy purred,sultry and chilling. “Very well, little spider. Let’s see if you can keep up.”
In a heartbeat, Ivy was in motion. Vines shot through the air like whips, each one aiming to entangle or strike. You sidestepped a thick vine that snapped past your ear and rolled under another that slammed into the floor where you’d just been. Your senses were on fire.
Beep!
In the corner of your visor, Morgan’s face flickered into view—a welcome sight amid the chaos. The camera feed was shaky, but you could make out her anxious expression as she huddled behind a stack of crates, her phone clutched tightly in her hand.
“Are you okay?” you hissed through the comms, trying to keep your voice steady despite the whirlwind of vines around you.
“M Outside! Sorry! I…I didn’t realize Ivy was here!” Morgan said, her voice tinged with panic. “I thought this place was a total ghost town!”
“Apologize later!” you shouted back, ducking a swinging vine. “Just stay out of sight. I’ll catch up with you once I deal with the plant lady!”
With a quick flip, you barely managed to dodge another flurry of whipping vines. You drew back your whip and snapped it towards the incoming tendrils, slicing through them. 
Ivy scowled, her eyes narrowing as she watched her plants get cut down. She retaliated, sending a fresh wave of vines hurtling toward you.
You dodged and weaved, the thick, green tendrils brushing against your suit. Each crack of your whip was followed by a sharp hiss of defeated foliage.
You charged through, ducking and weaving to avoid the onslaught. When you were close enough, you landed a solid left hook to Ivy’s face, the impact echoing with a satisfying thud. Ivy’s head snapped back with a sharp yelp of pain. You laughed, not giving her a moment to regroup, and threw another punch straight to her jaw.
JAB!
“Had enough, or should I keep going?” you taunted.
Ivy’s eyes flared with rage. “You little—”
Leaping onto a stack of crates to dodge another lash from her vines, you shot a web at Ivy. The sticky strands wrapped around her wrists, pinning her securely against a nearby support beam.
Ivy struggled against the webbing, her vines twitched with agitation as they lashed out. You kept your whip and claws at the ready, prepared for any sudden moves.
“Alright, listen up,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “Unless you want more of your precious plants turned into mulch, I suggest you calm down.”
“Calm down?” Ivy hissed, her frustration barely contained. “You’re the intruder here, desecrating my sanctuary. I won’t tolerate this!”
You took a deep breath, trying to defuse the situation. “Look, I’m really sorry about the intrusion. Didn’t mean to step on your botanical toes. We were just here to explore—”
“Explore?” Ivy’s brow shot up. “Is that why your friend took of my vials and papers?”
You stared at her, blinking a few times. Then, with a sheepish shrug, you said, “Okay, to be fair, you left that stuff lying around. It kind of looked like it was up for grabs. Plus, we didn’t exactly see a ‘Keep Out’ sign.”
“So, it’s a case of ‘finders keepers,’ then?” she scowled. “And here I thought you were a little more refined than that.”
“Hey!” you said, walking towards her until you were just a foot away. “I’m just calling it like I see it, lady. Maybe if you knew how to clean up, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”
Ivy tossed her hair over her shoulder, the golden-orange strands cascading like vines down her back. She leaned closer, her lips brushing against your jaw, her breath warm and tantalizing against your skin.
“Well, if you’re so keen on exploring,” she purred, her voice a sultry whisper, “I could show you something that’ll really satisfy your curiosity.”
!!!
Your spider senses flared with urgent warnings, but before you could react, Ivy thrust a slender vine beneath the edge of your helmet. In an instant, a cloud of pollen erupted inside your mask, catching you completely off guard. You gasped and choked, stumbling backward as your vision blurred and your nose was overwhelmed by the suffocating, heady scent of the pollen.
Your visor’s alarms blared, vitals flashing urgently:
TOXIN DETECTED.
“Damn it,” you grimaced as a searing heat began to radiate through your skin and bones. The prickling sensation quickly escalated into an intense burn, making it feel like your blood was boiling beneath your skin.
“Morgan!” you called out. “Find me an escape route, now!”
"Underestimated me?" Ivy cackled. "Thought you could resist my charms, did you?"
Morgan’s shaky voice crackled through the comms. “I’m searching for a way out! Just hang in there!”
“Oh, you won’t be escaping that easily,” Ivy sneered at you, still trapped in your webs. Despite her restraints, her vines writhed and twisted with a life of their own. “This is my domain, and you’re not leaving until I say so.”
You gritted your teeth, struggling against the searing pain as the vines inched closer. “Alright, I’m really sorry for this, but I’m done playing nice.”
With a sharp flick of your wrist, you shot a web at a vase perched precariously on a high shelf. The vase tumbled through the air and crashed down onto Ivy’s head, shattering into a shower of shards and a splash of crimson.
Ivy screamed as the shards rained down, a flurry of leaves and flowers cascading over her head and shoulders, momentarily obscuring her vision. 
Morgan's face reappeared on your visor, her brow furrowed with worry. “There’s a clear window—no vines blocking it! Hurry! I marked it on your map!”
Glancing at the map in your visor, you spotted the indicated window. 
"This was nice, but I’ve got places to be and people to save," you heaved, your voice breathy as you kicked away a lashing vine. "So if you don’t mind, I'll be taking my leave."
THWIP.
Launching yourself through the open window, you felt the cool, rain-soaked Gotham air slap your face as you soared into the night. The roar of the storm and the distant hum of the city below filled your senses. Behind you, Ivy’s furious shouts pierced through the downpour, her curses mingling with the crack of thrashing vines slamming against the walls.
“PEST!”
 ༻⊰───⋅
Saturday, 1:05 AM - Crime Alley, Gotham City.
"Robin, status?" Oracle's voice beeped in from Damian's earpiece.
Damian was perched on a rooftop, jade eyes scanning the dark expanse of Crime Alley below. The rain poured down in relentless sheets, the cold droplets cascading off the edges of his hood and dripping onto his shoulders.
From his vantage point, he could see the dilapidated buildings lining Crime Alley, their broken windows and graffiti-covered walls illuminated by the sporadic flashes of lightning. The streets below were deserted, the few brave souls out in the storm moving quickly, their faces obscured by umbrellas and hoods. Puddles formed in the uneven pavement, reflecting the occasional flicker of streetlights.
He lifted a gloved hand to his communication device, the wet leather squeaking slightly against the earpiece.
"I'm in my usual position," he reported, his voice steady. "No sign of activity. Just monitoring. Slow night."
"Figured," Nightwing's voice spoke up. "There is a storm."
“Ishth Gotham,” Jason's voice chimed in, muffled as if he was chewing something. “When isn’t there a storm?”
"Are you eating right now?" Tim's voice squeaked with disbelief, the sound sharp and incredulous over the comms. "Again? Really?"
"Yeah?" Jason retorted, taking another bite of whatever he was munching on. "A guy's gotta eat. Maybe if you actually ate more, you wouldn’t be so scrawny, Timberland."
"I'm fit!" Tim snapped back, voice cracking. "And can you please stop using my name? We have codenames for a reason."
"You're the genius who called yourself 'Drake'," Damian scoffed as he kept his eyes trained on the rain-soaked expanse below.
"Demon brat's got a point," Jason drawled, the sound of him slurping a drink faintly audible over the comms. "Harley still calls you Duck-Boy."
"Just focus on the job," Nightwing interjected, his voice slicing through the bickering with an authoritative edge. "Tonight’s a washout. Red Robin and I are on patrol near the docks. We’ve encountered a few low-level crooks, but nothing major."
"Alright," Oracle’s voice came through again. "Stay on high alert. Let me know if anything changes."
As the comms went silent, Damian pulled out his phone, the screen lighting up against the storm's backdrop. For a fleeting moment, his stoic expression softened. A nearly imperceptible smile tugged at his lips as he glanced at the lock screen—a picture of you, warm and content in one of his shirts, your face framed by tousled hair and a genuine smile.
He noted the time—1:05 AM. Given your unpredictable sleep patterns, you were likely still awake. Damian's finger hovered over the screen, caught between sending a quick message or making a call. But before he could decide, a sharp gust of wind swept across the rooftop, making his cape snap and sending a chill through his soaked uniform.
He slipped the phone back into his belt, shook off the cold, and refocused on the scene below. His eyes scanned the shadowy expanse: dark alleys, rain-slicked roads, and flickering, rusting shop signs.
Then, a sudden, unexpected movement shattered the monotony. A flash of red and white streaked across the skyline, its vibrant colors stark against the darkened sky. A web shot out, glinting briefly in the intermittent lightning before anchoring itself to a nearby building.
THWIP.
There was a pause.
Damian’s lips curled into a sharp snarl. His fingers tightened around the grip of his grappling gun, his mind shifting into high gear. With a scowl, he tapped his earpiece.
“Oracle,” Damian began, boots crunching as he moved to the edge of the rooftop. “I have visual on the spider vigilante. Engaging in pursuit.”
Without waiting for a reply, he fired the grappling gun. The line shot through the air with a metallic twang, slicing through the rain-soaked night. He felt the jolt as the grappling hook latched onto a distant anchor, pulling him forward.
As he swung through the storm, a fierce thrill coursed through him, like a bird unleashed with new wings. With the city sprawled out beneath him and the rain pelting against his face, Robin was ready to do what he did best.
Hunt.
 ༻⊰───⋅
"It's going to take hours to get this smell out of my suit," you heaved, wrinkling your nose as you fired a web into the distant skyline. The line stuck firmly to a building, and with a jarring lurch, you swung deeper into the city.
Morgan clung to you for dear life, her voice barely audible over the rush of air. “Not the time to worry about laundry! Focus on not crashing into something! And maybe on not dying from the poison?!”
"Hey, I’m just saying," you shot back with a strained chuckle, “if I survive this, I’m gonna need to have this suit professionally cleaned.”
Morgan’s grip tightened, and she shouted, “Survive first, clean later!"
With a yank of your web, you aimed for the next rooftop, but as you hurtled through the air, you realized that you’d miscalculated the distance. The rooftop was rushing in too fast, and panic surged through you like ice.
Your stomach lurched, and in a split-second decision, you threw Morgan forward, trying to cushion her fall. She landed with a thud, a breathless gasp escaping her as she hit the roof.
You, however, weren’t so fortunate. Your foot snagged the edge of the roof awkwardly, sending a sharp pain shooting up your leg.
CRACK.
The sickening crack of bone snapping echoed through the air as your ankle twisted violently. The force of the impact jolted your entire body, sending you sprawling onto the rough, gravelly rooftop.
“Great…” you muttered through gritted teeth, struggling to push yourself up onto your hands and knees. Your body felt like it was on fire from the inside out, the toxin’s effects amplifying the pain with each passing second.
You bit down hard on your tongue, the metallic taste of blood bubbling into your mouth. You fought to keep yourself upright, but your legs felt like lead, and you crumpled onto the rooftop, unable to fully bear your weight.
“Shit!” Morgan scrambled to her feet, her face a mask of panic and concern. “Are you okay? What happened?”
"Just… a little off target," you panted, wincing as you assessed the damage. Your visor had taken a hit during the fall, causing the data to flicker erratically. Through the static, you could still make out the crucial info: a broken bone.
“It's fine… Just a broken ankle,” you added, trying to maintain your composure despite the sluggishness creeping into your movements. 
“You’re getting brain fog and dizziness,” Morgan said urgently, her fingers flipping through the notebook she’d snatched earlier. “It’s a side effect of the toxin. We need to get you to the safehouse—”
Before she could finish, you shook your head with a groan. “No. You call a cab and head there. I’ll swing.”
“Are you insane?!” Morgan nearly shouted, grabbing your arm in panic. “You can barely stand, let alone swing through the city! We need to get you help, now!”
You pushed her away, trying to ignore the throbbing in your ankle. “It’s not like I have much of a choice. The suit’s tampered, I think. Look.”
You attempted to uncloack, but the metal sputtered and glitched erratically. “See? I can’t uncloack. If you’re seen with me, they’ll find us out in no time. I can’t risk that.”
Morgan’s eyes darted between you and the malfunctioning suit, her face a mix of worry and frustration. “This is all my fault. I’m so sorry. I should have—”
“Stop,” you cut her off, wincing as the pain intensified. “It’s not your fault. Just get to the safehouse. I’ll manage.”
Tears of frustration welled up in Morgan’s eyes. “I can’t just leave you like this!”
“You don’t have a choice,” you said firmly, trying to steady your voice. “If we’re both caught, it’ll be worse. Now go! I’ll be fine.”
With one last, apologetic glance, Morgan pulled out her phone and dialed for a cab, her hands trembling.
 ༻⊰───⋅
Damian, concealed in the shadows of the rooftop, landed with a muted thud. He crouched behind the crumbling ledge of an old brick wall, the slits in his mask narrowing as he took in the scene unfolding just a few feet away.
He watched as you struggled to regain your footing, your movements pained and uneven. The girl beside you—her rain-soaked silhouette a blur against the storm—was clearly in a panic, her phone clutched tightly as she fumbled with it.
‘A civilian,’ Damian thought, frustration lining his features. Launching a direct attack now would be reckless. He had to be certain the vigilante was genuinely on their own before making a move.
After a tense moment, the girl finally moved and dashed down the fire escape, her figure barely visible through the downpour. Damian squinted through the sheets of rain, straining to catch a glimpse of her features, but the storm blurred his view into an indistinct smear of color and motion.
The moment she was out of sight, his attention snapped back to you. You took a deep, ragged breath, bracing yourself. Then, with a sudden burst of movement, you launched yourself into the night. 
Damian followed, his movements fluid and precise as he pushed off from the ledge. His cape billowed behind him like a dark, flowing banner, and he darted into the storm. 
Below, the streets were a chaotic blur of honking horns and glaring headlights, their harsh lights slicing through the darkness like knives. Heavy sheets of rain hammered down, obscuring your vision and drenching you to the bone. Water seeped through the cracks in your suit, each drop feeling like an icy needle against your overheated, feverish skin.
The sensations were overwhelming. It was too much. The pain, the heat, the storm—it was all too much.
Your breath came in ragged gasps, every inhale bringing more of Ivy’s insidious toxin into your lungs.
In one desperate swing, you miscalculated the web’s trajectory. It shot out too low, sending you plummeting uncontrollably below.
Cursing through gritted teeth, you were hurled down into traffic. Everything was a blur as you slammed into the side of a car, metal denting and screams deafening your ears. Your shoulder bore the brunt of the collision, sending shockwaves of pain through your bones.
For a brief, suspended moment, everything went dark.
A cold, mechanical voice sliced through the void, its tone harsh and insistent. Maggie’s synthetic voice, though devoid of human warmth, was tinged with urgency.
“Immediate response required. Vitals are critically low. Consciousness levels decreasing. Current status is life-threatening. Please respond.”
Abruptly, your senses snapped back into sharp focus. You jolted awake with a ragged gasp, your breath coming in frantic bursts. Your vision was a fractured mosaic of blinding lights and shadowy figures. The sounds of blaring horns and panicked shouts crashed back into your ears, tires screeching all around you.
Morgan’s voice crackled through the static, panic evident in her tone. “I’m at the safehouse! Where are you? I couldn't reach you! What’s going on?”
“Change of plans,” you managed, your voice strained. “I won’t make it to the safehouse in time.”
You tapped the side of your visor, making a map flicker to life through the cracks and glitches. The display was unstable, but it highlighted a route to your apartment.
“You know where my mom's apartment is, right?” you heaved. “That’s where I’m heading.”
Entering your apartment was risky, but with your condition worsening and death looming, it was the closest refuge you could manage.
Damian, hidden in the alleyway, watched you with a furrowed brow. What he initially wrote off as rookie mistakes now seemed out of character. Your disoriented movements were starkly different from the precise maneuvers he had seen in news footage and CCTV feeds. He had been tracking your case closely, and this chaos didn't match the profile he had built.
He watched as you struggled to stand, your legs shaking with each attempt. The driver's shouts were drowned out by the storm of noise around you. Your strained apologies were barely audible. Desperation marked your actions as you fired another web, using it to pull yourself up and away from the wrecked car and the angry crowd.
Damian cursed under his breath and quickly took off after you. 
He tracked your erratic path through twisted, narrow streets until he saw you aim for an apartment building. With a quick stretch of your arm, you shot a web toward a balcony, but your aim was off again.
Another sloppily thrown web sent you slamming into the windows of the apartment. The metal edge dug into your ribs with brutal force, knocking the wind out of you. You gasped, your lungs burning as you struggled to draw in air. Pain radiated from your side, and shards of glass sprayed everywhere.
Damian, perched on the rooftop across the street, stared in disbelief. This was Catwoman’s apartment—Selina Kyle’s. The worst possible scenario unfolded in his mind. To him, it looked like a break-in. His jaw clenched tightly, and his fingers gripped the edge of his grappling gun, knuckles whitening with the force of his anger.
Pest.
Without hesitation, Damian leapt into action. He aimed for the fire escape with single-minded intensity, propelling himself toward it with a powerful thrust. His boots hammered against the metal steps, causing them to buckle and the entire structure to groan and rattle under the force of his descent. 
In the corner of his eye, he saw your figure slip into the window.
Tunnel-visioned and driven by a surge of protectiveness, Damian kicked the door to the fire escape open, the metal panel scraping roughly across the floor. His father would have his head for causing unnecessary public damage—something Robin was frequently under fire for—but at that moment, he couldn't have cared less.
"Was that a crash?!" Nightwing's voice crackled through the comm line.
"I think it's coming from demon brat's side. What's the report, squirt?"
Damian merely growled in response as he began to stalk down the hallway. His tall figure, cloaked in shadows, cast long, dark lines across the floor as he moved. He cracked his knuckles, the sound sharp and menacing over the comms.
"Someone's about to learn the price of crossing me."
 ༻⊰───⋅
Dazed and disoriented, you slipped into the building, the rough edge of the window scraping against your battered body. As you tumbled through your apartment, you hit the floor with a heavy thud, the impact shaking your entire frame. Your head struck the ground with a thump, stars exploding in your vision.
For a brief, haunting moment, there was silence—deep, oppressive silence. Then, a cold, creeping dread slithered through you.
You clawed at the floor, your body shaking.
"Mom? Mom, please! I need you!" Your voice cracked, a raw, fear seeping through every syllable. "Mom, are you there? Please, help me!"
Tears streamed down your face, mingling with the sweat and blood as you cried out into the empty, echoing apartment. The lights were off, casting the space into a suffocating darkness that seemed to press in on you.
Desperately, you stumbled into Selina’s bedroom. Your heart sank as you noticed the absence of her suit—no sleek, black leather or whip. She must have been out on patrol.
A deafening crash shattered the silence as the apartment door was ripped from its hinges. Before you could fully react, a rough hand clamped down on you, throwing you to the floor.
Your vision blurred in and out of focus as you were pinned to the floor. A heavy foot pressed mercilessly against your chest, crushing your ribs with every breath. The weight lifted, then slammed down again, ripping through your suit with a sickening crunch. The suit uncloaked, its torn pieces clinging to your clothes, leaving you exposed in just your undershirt and pants.
Through the dim, flickering light, the outline of your attacker became clearer. A katana was unsheathed with a chilling rasp, its cold blade pressed menacingly against your neck. The steel gleamed ominously, catching the sparse light and reflecting a deadly shimmer. The edge was so close you could feel its icy touch, a mere breath away from slicing into your flesh.
The thought of that forced you to tilt your head back, exposing more of your neck to the shadowy figure looming over you.
Tall and imposing, the figure was clad in grey and black armor, with a black cape flowing behind them. A red emblem, unmistakably the symbol of an R, was stitched onto their chest.
A cold realization cut through the fog of pain and fear—Robin?
<- PREVIOUS | NEXT ->
 ༻⊰───⋅
dundunDUN
whatchu think bookiebears
surely the batfam will handle this well
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bountycancelled · 1 year ago
Text
EASY PEASY, LEMON SQUEEZY
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
opla sanji x reader
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in which sanji teaches you a few basic cooking skills, while you try to ignore how close to you he's standing
genre: delusional oneshot, pretty suggestive, gn! reader, my sanji/taz obsessed ass shining through the cracks
requested: nope, but they're open so feel free♡
a/n: I don't have anything to say besides I'm sorry.
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
this was all your fault.
you just had to open your mouth and spill the beans on the fact that you didn't know the first thing about cooking, which led you to the predicament that you were in now.
or was it Sanji's fault for offering to give you private lessons with a tone in his voice that could be mistaken as flirtatious and a wink your way (which in hindsight, you should've definitely refused) and for being a kind, flirty, witty, compassionate piece of work who could cook like a god, who you couldn't help but fall deeply in love with?
no matter whose fault it was, all you knew was that you weren't mentally prepared to spend alone time with Sanji in the kitchen, as you knew that this experience would only aid your feelings in flourishing.
but what you were or were not prepared to do didn't matter, because you were already in the kitchen, standing shoulder to shoulder with the man in question as you washed your hands and he looked at you with his typical honeyed gaze and a slight smile on his face.
"you look extra beautiful today my love, how am I supposed to focus on teaching when you look like that?" he questioned out loud in an airy voice. you shrugged as nonchalantly as you could, cringing internally because you had in fact, dressed with a little more thought today than most days, and the fact that he noticed made you want to bash your head against the counter until you saw blood. how much more obvious could you be?
"okay. so first, I'm gonna need you to dice up an onion for me, alright?" he stood behind you, watching over your shoulder as you peeled the onion and picked up the knife, and you could swear that his lack of distance was genuinely giving you respiratory problems.
"how would you like 'em, chef?" you asked sarcastically, missing the way his breathed hitched at the nickname.
"hmm... super fine." now, the logical side of you knew that vegetables could be chopped very finely, you weren't completely inept in the kitchen after all. buuuuut, the absolutely unsavable side of you, aided by the fact that you could legitimately feel his breath on the back of your neck as he spoke so so sweetly with that accent of his, believed that he wasn't just speaking about the onions.
you shook away those thoughts, and began cutting the onion. you could almost feel his correction before he corrected you, but you were definitely not prepared for his next actions. his hands held your own as he guided your knife movements, his front almost pressed against your back. he whispered praises in your ear, although you severely doubted that your subpar knife work was worth any compliments, but that didn't stop him. a "there you go." here, a "so so perfect" there, even a cheeky little "you're doing so good for me" just to make you squirm.
maybe it was his tone of voice, or his hands (which had now moved away from yours and found purchase slowly moving up and down your arms) or the fact that your hand was so shaky that you were sure you were gonna lose a finger at this point, but you had had enough.
you put the knife down, not bothering to finish cutting the onion, because he could cut his own damn onions if he so pleased, and spoke before your more timid nature could stop you.
"you didn't ask me here to teach me how to cook, did you?"
silence.
maybe you had misunderstood the situation? oh god, oh god, oh god. you readied yourself to apologise for making him uncomfortable before-
"am I that obvious?" you could almost hear his smile as he spoke seductively, his hands moving from your arms to you waist, gently caressing your frame.
"yes, you are. not that I mind." okay, this was not how you were expecting this lesson to go. but it was days like this that you daydreamt about in the comfort of your room.
"I know this is a bit forward, even for me but-" he cut himself off with a soft kiss to your neck, and you felt yourself shudder at the contact. "-I honestly can't resist you any longer-" another kiss, this time to your shoulder. "-would you give my the absolute pleasure to taste you, please?"
if you weren't already against the counter with Sanji behind you, your legs would've given out from under you on the spot. you nodded, not trusting anything coherent to come out of your mouth at that moment, but snapped out of your daze as a confused sound rang through the kitchen from the doorway.
"you busy Sanji? I'm kinda hungry right now." Luffy spoke with a certain normalcy, as if he hadn't just walked in on, well, whatever was about to happen to the two of you.
Sanji chuckled, placing one more kiss to the back of your neck before moving away from you, but not before whispering in your ear once more. "why don't you go to your room and relax for a bit, love? I'm still aching to taste you."
you were in for a ride today.
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slut4thebroken · 6 months ago
Text
The Deal
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
Pairing | frat/fuck boy!Robert Fisher x reader
Summary | You’re supposed to be tutoring Robert but he needs your help “taking care of something” before he can focus.
Warnings | Smut, public sex, dumbification, “accidental” creampie, fingering, kissing, him being kinda pervy, a little degradation, technically misogyny, coercion?, praise.
Words | 2.2 k
Notes | ty @hllywdwhre for all your help 😭🙏🏻
Ao3 link | <3
Masterlist
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Ever since the first time you tutored Robert at his place and he fucked you, you refused to go anywhere private for your sessions. Which usually meant you’d meet up at the library or a cafe. Today was no different. You met him at the library at 4 pm and, as always, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of your body. 
“Robert, you actually have to look at what I’m writing to learn this.” You huffed, getting annoyed when you caught him staring at your tits for the fifth time in barely ten minutes. 
“It’s not my fault you’re showing them off. I thought nerds were supposed to be prudes.” He smirked, making you blush a little. Honestly you didn’t get why Robert was paying for you to tutor him in the first place. He clearly didn’t care about learning the material. 
“I’m not... “showing them off.’” You muttered. “If you want to actually pass this class, you should figure out how to pay attention.” He smirked at your attempt to be stern with him. 
“You know, I’d be able to pay attention if my dick wasn’t hard.” He said casually, making you choke on your spit as your eyes widened. You still weren’t used to him talking like that. “And you look so fuckable in that sluttly little skirt.” His gaze dragged down your body to stare at your bare thighs. 
“Robert, stop.” You warned, making his smirk widen. 
“You said you want me to pay attention.” He said coyly. “So you can either get under the table and suck me off or we can go somewhere more private and I can fuck my load into that tight little cunt I haven’t been able to stop thinking about for the past month.” His voice was low and thick with arousal, and you swallowed audibly when his eyes fluttered back up to your face. 
“N-no. We’re not doing that again, it was a mistake.” You cringed when you heard the waver in your voice. 
“A mistake? Baby, if it was a mistake then why did it feel so good?” He purred. 
“I’m serious, Robert.” You’re not the type of girl who partakes in one night stands and you’ve felt embarrassed and ashamed for weeks because of how easily you gave into temptation. 
“So am I.” All of the amusement in this tone was suddenly gone. “Either stand up or get on your fucking knees.” You couldn’t help it when your thighs squeezed together a little from his words. “Well?” He asked impatiently. You bit your lip and looked away, trying to convince yourself that you didn’t want to do this again. And yet…
His smirk returned when you reluctantly got to your feet. “Good girl.” You followed him to the back of the library and once you were in a secluded area, he pushed you up against a shelf before pressing his lips to yours in a bruising kiss, forcing a muffled sound of surprise from you. His hands roamed your body, squeezing your breasts, going down the curve of your waist to your hips, then down even further to feel the soft skin of your thighs. As one hand snaked up underneath your skirt and cupped your heat, he let out a low groan into the kiss. 
“God- I’ve missed this fucking cunt.” He whispered, moving down to start kissing over your neck. “And these tits.” His free hand pushed both your top and your bra up above your breasts. 
“Robert, wait.” You whispered, trying to pull it back down. But he quickly leaned forward and took your nipple into his mouth, suckling on the hardened bud, effectively keeping you from covering yourself. “Someone could walk by.” You whispered more urgently this time, then gasped when his hand suddenly slipped in your panties to start rubbing your clit. 
“Shh… Just be quiet and we’ll be fine, baby.” He murmured against you before simultaneously moving his mouth to your other nipple and pushing two fingers inside you. He let out a low, appreciative moan when he felt the tightness of your walls practically suffocating just two fingers. “I forgot how fucking tight you are.” He groaned, curling his fingers against your walls, making your hands fly up to cling to his shoulders. 
“Robert.” You whimpered. He suddenly bit your nipple lightly, making you gasp as your hips bucked. 
“I can’t believe I’ve gone all these years fucking the whores who throw themselves at me and not the nerds who keep their cunts nice and tight by not sleeping around.” He chuckled, pulling back to look at you as he pushed a third finger in. You let your head fall back against the shelf as your mouth opened in a silent moan, your hips just barely grinding on his hand. You could feel the bulge in his pants pushing against your leg now and you started panting at just the thought of what was about to happen. 
When your back arched slightly, jutting your exposed breasts out more, he cursed under his breath and removed his fingers to start unbuckling his belt and opening his pants. You gasped as he suddenly spun you around and bent you forward a little. Wasting no time, he swiftly pulled your panties down just below your ass, then used one hand to hold your hip, while the other lined his cock up with your entrance. 
“Wait— Condom.” You said quickly, making him pause. He huffed but released you and you looked over your shoulder, watching him pull out his wallet and look through it 
“I don’t have one.” You bit your lip and glanced down at his cock. It was already beading precum and so incredibly flushed— your cunt pulsed at the thought of it finally inside you again. 
“Okay- okay, just pull out.” You said firmly and he nodded before eagerly getting back into position. “I’m serious, Robert.” You said, making him roll his eyes. 
“I know— I will.” He said impatiently. Once you got his verbal agreement, you turned back around, letting him line up again. The thick head of his cock dragged through your slit, spreading your arousal before pushing up against your hole. When his cock breached your entrance, you had to bite your lip to muffle the whimper that slipped out. He continued pushing deeper until his hips were flush with your ass and you let out a shaky breath as your walls struggled to accommodate the intrusion. 
“Fuck- ease up, you’re practically forcing me out.” He grunted, moving both hands to hold your hips as he paused. 
“Sorry.” You whimpered. You didn’t really know why you were apologizing though since you couldn’t help how tight you were. He kept a firm grip on your hips as he slowly dragged his hips back and when he moved forward again, your legs trembled and you quickly clung to the shelf to hold yourself up. 
“I swear… this is the best pussy I’ve ever fucked.” He said through a breath, making you whine quietly. “Wraps perfectly around my cock.” He started thrusting a little faster now, but not fast enough to make too much noise. You had to cover your mouth with your hand because you were getting just a little too loud and you knew Robert wouldn’t stop because of that. If anything he’d probably fuck you harder just to make you moan louder. 
When he leaned over you so your back was flush with his front, then grabbed your breasts, you bit down on your hand, trying to stay quiet. Robert squeezed and groped you greedily before focusing on your nipples, rolling them between his fingers until you were gasping out.  
“I bet the only reason you wanted to have these sessions here was so that I’d finally rail you in public, out where anyone could get a free show.” You whimpered and squeezed your eyes shut as you shook your head a little. “I felt your cunt tighten up when I said that…” He scoffed in response to your weak protest. “Who would’ve guessed that the nerd was actually a little whore.” He chuckled, making your cheeks burn with a dark blush. 
“You wear these slutty tops that show off your tits, these tiny little skirts that barely cover anything…” He stood straight again and flipped your skirt up, giving him a clearer view of your ass bouncing with each thrust. “And fuck— when you wear those fucking glasses, I swear I get harder than I thought was physically possible.”
“Robert..” You whimpered, the sound coming out muffled beneath your hand as you reached down to rub your clit that was throbbing almost painfully by now.  
“I know.” He cooed mockingly. “You’re so smart all the time… I bet you’ve just been waiting for someone to finally fuck you into the brainless bimbo you pretend not to be, huh?” 
“Oh god…” You sobbed quietly, knees buckling as you got closer to your release.  
“You get a cock in this needy little cunt and all that IQ just disappears instantly.” He chuckled, the sound a deep rumble as he tried to stay quiet. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll let you tutor me if I get to fuck all those thoughts out of your pretty little head after. How does that sound, baby?” You mewled and nodded, back arching, unintentionally pushing your hips into his. “Good girl.” He said through a breathy laugh. 
His hands settled on your hips again and he sped up even more. He wasn’t holding you enough to keep you from falling to the floor as your legs turned to jelly, so you had to take the hand off of your mouth and hold yourself up, wanting to keep rubbing your clit. All you could focus on was Robert, his cock, and your impending orgasm. 
“Wanna come.” You whined, making him laugh again. 
“Yeah? Does that needy pussy want to cream all over my cock?” He cooed, his mocking only pushing you closer to the edge. When you mewled and nodded again, he said, “Go ahead, baby. Show me how much you love being my bimbo bitch.”  
You rubbed your clit impossibly faster, now chasing your orgasm more eagerly since you had his permission. When the knot of arousal in your stomach finally snapped, your knees buckled, almost sending you to the floor, but Robert held you up and pushed you into the bookshelf a little more to keep you from falling. Wave after wave of pleasure rolled through you and you tried to keep your sounds quiet, but with his cock still fucking you relentlessly, your efforts were unavailing. 
Robert was moaning quietly behind you at the feeling of your walls convulsing around his cock and with one final grunt, he pulled your hips back to meet his thrust. You whined as his cock twitched with each rope of come that spurted out, painting your walls. The sounds he was letting out were starting to make you needy all over again, but soon enough they quieted into heavy breathing as he rested his body on yours, panting against your neck. 
“Fuck…” He hissed, finally leaning up again and slowly dragging his hips back until his cock slipped out of your fluttering hole. He pushed you down farther so that your torso was almost parallel to the floor, then grabbed your ass cheeks and spread you open, watching his come dribble out of your puffy folds. 
His come. 
Fuck. 
“Robert.” You whined once you realized that he didn’t pull out. 
“What?” He asked absentmindedly, playing with your sensitive pussy and pushing his come back inside before pulling your panties up around your hips. 
“You said you’d pull out..” You heard clothes rustling, then he was lifting you up and turning you around to fix your own clothes. 
“Sorry, baby, I forgot.” He said, with no remorse in his tone. “You just felt so good.” You stared up at him through your lashes as you pouted. When he realized you were about to say something again, he pulled you into another kiss. You draped your arms over his shoulders, needing a little help standing on your legs that still felt like jelly. 
“Excuse me!” An offended voice said from the end of the aisle. You both turned to look, finding one of the older librarians standing there with a cart full of books to be reshelved. “That’s hardly appropriate for this setting.” She scoffed. 
“I’m so sorry, ma’am. Thank you for the warning, it won’t happen again.” Robert said with an ingratiating tone as he placed his hand on your lower back to guide you past her. She even blushed when he gave her that charming smile he usually uses to get what he wants.  
As you walked back to the table, he leaned down to speak against your ear. “Next week I’ll see you at my place. I expect you to uphold your end of the deal.” Your fucked out brain could barely even remember what he was talking about when he said “the deal” but you blushed when you realized what you technically agreed to just a few minutes ago. Maybe you were still cock drunk… but the idea didn’t seem too bad now.
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msgexymunson · 2 years ago
Text
Kitten
Description: Eddie can't believe you're still his nice adorable kitten, even when he's buried inside you.
Warnings: NSFW, porn without plot, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, kinda mean dom Eddie, sub fem reader, degradation, crying, pet names.
A/n: I dont know what to tell you. This is just filth that was floating around in the cesspool that is my brain. Enjoy my dirty girls. If you like it, please comment and reblog!
1k words
Masterlist
"Please please please-" you moan into the empty air, unfeeling ears refusing to absorb the sounds. Sweating and clenching around thick fingers, you wiggle; a fish caught on a line, helpless, unable to break free. Your legs are draped across Eddie's lap, panties pulled to the side, your juices dripping all over his jeans.
Please what? Are you looking for more? Or are you looking to be set free? Its unclear; your pelvic movements are dragging you closer to his sodden cluch; wet, sticky sound of your release echoing everywhere, dampening the edge of your pleated mini skirt.
Disgusting sounds clog your ears; a soaken squelch pervades every sense, filling the room with a dirty, desolate want. A desire to be desiccated.
"Please, Eddie, please-"
"Please, oh please?" He mocks, thick fingers soaked with your release, a milky ring of your slick circling them.
"Please what? What do you want?" His mocking tone cuts through, humiliating you further, "tell me, or I can't give you what you need."
You know you never said, you want him to absorb knowledge at this point. He should know what you need. He does know what you need.
Your moans pierce the air while Eddie fucks you ceaselessly with thick fingers, pushing you towards sticky, squelching release. Again.
"Come on kitten, what do you need? You never said. Come on baby, you can do it." Thick, dastardly fingers continue to invade your cunt and push you to your breaking point. They know exactly what you need, but they want you to say. Your wanton moans are half the fun.
"Eddie, I need you to- please-"
"Please what? You let me bury my fingers in your pussy but you can't say the word��fuck? You're fucking cute as hell kitten."
A blush smothers your cheeks, fuelled by his mocking and the heat between your legs.
"I need you inside me Eddie," you pout as his movements slow, still buried deep but his digits are rocking back and forth; so deep its bordering on painful, making you hiss.
"I am inside you kitten." He smirks when you huff, letting out a mirthless laugh.
Thighs quivering, you pull yourself nearer to his ear, your shaky breath a whisper.
"Please, I want your cock inside me. Please fuck me Eddie."
Eddie groans, eyes rolling back at your words. He pulls his fingers from you with a wet noise that makes you cringe. A smug smile stretches across his handsome features.
"See? I knew you could do it. That's my kitten."
Laying you gently down, he slowly pulls your sodden underwear off you, throwing them somewhere on the floor. His pants and boxers are next to go, leaving him naked, narrow hips slotting between your glistening thighs.
You reach to the side to unzip your skirt but Eddie bats your hands away. Rough hands flip your skirt up, exposing your slick soaked cunt. He pulls your tank top up to reveal your breasts, nipples hardening in the cooler air.
"You look so fucking hot like this. Such a dirty whore for me. Hmmm." Lust filled eyes drink in your form as he slowly fists his cock.
"Eddie, please." You frown up at him, hands balled into little fists.
"Stop being a brat and take what I give you." His voice is quiet, but hard. A threat dancing on his tongue. Looking up at him with wide eyes, your lip quivers.
"Aw, my little kitten gonna cry? I'll give you something to cry about."
He lines up his throbbing dick and rubs it through your glistening folds, gathering wetness, before pushing himself fully into you.
Tears rush to the corners of your eyes, pushed out by the sheer size of him. You gasp and grip his shoulders.
"Oh my God Eddie!"
"What's wrong kitten? Can't take it?" His lips draw into a condescending pout.
"No! I can Eddie, I can." You nod at him trying to convince him.
"Ok kitten if you're so sure..." as he starts slowly thrusting in and out of you, his hard member dragging against your sticky satin walls. The stretch was intense, leaving you groaning and gasping, a pretty mess just for Eddie.
A particularly deep thrust has you closing your eyes, moaning loudly.
"Yeah? That good baby?" You nod but its not enough.
"Hey, I asked you a question." He slows, making you grab his biceps, eyes widening.
"Yes, so good, please, don't stop!"
Eddie laughs and starts thrusting harder, faster. One hand keeps him upright, the other grasps you firmly by the jaw.
"You gotta look at me kitten. I wanna see you cum hard."
You stare into his dark eyes as you feel your world begin to unravel. The burning deep in your belly is threatening to spill out over your whole being.
"Eddie, oh my-" you're about to warn him when the feeling crashes over you, fluttering through your nerves, leaving you clenching around his length, whimpering your devotion to him.
"Fuck, you're so fucking pretty when you cum, holding me so tight, my dirty little girl, holy shit" his thrusts begin to falter, finally letting your jaw go, gripping so tight to your shoulder you think he'll leave finger print bruises.
"I'm gonna cum, where- fuck, where do you want it?"
"Inside me, please Eddie."
He breaks character for a moment. "Shit really? Are you sure?" As you nod emphatically, nails leaving red crescents in his back.
Features hard once again, he pounds into you even faster, "gonna fill this pussy up, just like you want, Jesus Christ!" Holding you close he releases deep inside of you. You can feel his dick throbbing, whining at the feeling.
Eddie collapses to the side of you, body shining in sweat. You allow your legs to slowly unfold, still quivering at the strength of your release.
"Sorry kitten if that was a bit much." He strokes your thigh, eyes seeking yours.
"Well you were a bit of a-"
"What princess? A douchbag? A prick?"
"A- a meanie."
Eddie's laugh echoes through the room. He scoops you in his arms.
"And you are an adorable little kitten."
Just tagging a couple of people who I know will enjoy this lol
@lunatictardis @munson-blurbs @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @billybluboy @zestychili @eddiesprincess86 @cluz1babe @joejoequinnquinn @onehotgreasymechanic @eddiemunsonfuxks
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caelivir · 1 year ago
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rayne ames relationship hcs (part ii)
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— WARNING: creepy behavior from a guy but that’s it
— author’s note. i feel like the author’s note from when i posted this doesn’t apply anymore, but anyway, this is part two but isn’t actually because i lost the first part when i accidentally deleted my account… again im so sorry. ALSO!! the writing is a little different bc i’m cringing rereading my old stuff. (how did u guys let that slide)
— HUGE HUGE HUGE THANK YOU TO @mikadzukis FOR SAVING MY OLD HCS I AM INDEBTED TO U!!!!
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rayne ames loves dates with you. he loves them.
but he especially loves picnic dates
you introduced him to the idea on one of his days off
you promised it wasn’t going to be draining because you knew being a visionary is a taxing job
so he agreed
and he loved it
spread across the red and white checkered picnic blanket are plates of grapes, cheese, and sandwiches. two goblets of iced tea rest on top of a wooden board so they can remain balanced.
rayne’s large hands support his weight as he leans back onto the blanket. the half-blonde cranes his neck to stare up at the leaves. rays of sunlight peek through slivers of space between them. a butterfly flutters its wings above him.
“rayne!” you call for his attention.
your lover hums as a reply before directing his eyes toward you, offering his full attention.
“i made something for you.” you speak, grabbing for another basket on the blanket. you lift up the cover, reaching carefully inside it. you pull out a cake platter and set aside the lid that protected the dessert residing on it.
“it’s a cake!” you continue with a smile. “this is the first time you’ve been off in a while so i thought i could make a cake to celebrate! i even decorated it with some bunnies!”
a small grin grows on the visionary’s face. he pushes himself up. rayne takes the platter out of your hand and gently places it on a free board on the blanket. you’re caught in surprise as his arms wrap themselves around your waist. his head finds warmth in the crook of your neck.
“thank you.” he whispers.
rayne’s protective of you
he knows you’re capable of fighting your own battles, but there are certain situations where he just had to take care of it
if someone’s saying things about you or harassing you, he isn’t going to tolerate that
the entirety of easton knows not to mess with you, because messing with you means messing with rayne, and no one wants to put themselves through that
he’s already scary enough as is so all it takes is a couple of threats for the person to leave cowering in fear
you wait outside of the café as rayne uses the restroom. people of all ages each other as they navigate their ways theough marchétte street. one of them approaches you, but it’s not rayne.
“so what’s a fine thing like you doing alone here in the street.” a guy smirks, trailing his eyes up and down your body. you shift uncomfortably. he’s definitely a few years older than you and inches taller than rayne. a single line cuts through his right cheek, indicating his level of magic.
you swallow down an anxious gulp before speaking. “i’m with my boyfriend.”
“tell me gorgeous,” the man’s hand travels down the path of your jaw. you’re disgusted by his touch. “does your boyfriend like to share?”
“i really think you should go.” you respond firmly, shoving the grimy hand away from your face.
the guy chuckles, raising his hands in defense. “no need to get aggressive, sweetheart! i just want to know!”
“and who the hell are you?” a familiar deep voice says from behind you. you turn around to discover rayne, and your eyes light up at his appearance. you’re well acquainted with the detachment and chilling coldness of rayne’s gaze, but now, there’s a fire behind them.
rage.
he’s pissed.
recognition becomes evident in the man’s face, and it dawns on him that he just messed with a divine visionary’s lover, but before he can retreat, rayne steps in front of you. he yanks your harasser down to your level. you don’t know what the half-blonde says, but it’s clear that it sparks fear into the features of the other man. once rayne’s finishes with him, he apologizes profusely before running away in the opposite direction.
the anger behind rayne’s eyes fade; they soften when he finds your gaze. “are you okay.”
you grin. “yeah, now that you’re here.”
rayne lets you wear his robes
whenever you hang out in his dorm, your first instinct is to go through his closet and take them
when you first did it, he was going to protest
but you looked so cute i. them that he decided to let it slide
you especially like wearing them when you nap
though you wearing his robes does pose some problems for him from time to time
“you’re late,” orter points out from his seat at the table. his fingers slide the frame of his glasses up his nose. “and where’s your visionary robe?”
rayne strolls past the desert came, not bothering to answer for his actions. he didn’t want to admit—especially to orter of all people—the reason behind his missing robe.
this morning, just as he was almost ready to leave for the divine visionary meeting, rayne realized that he was missing his robe. the half-blonde searched ever crevice of his dorm but to no avail. rayne sighed, reaching the conclusion that you accidentally took it.
yesterday, he had to run a quick errand while you were napping. upon his return, rayne discovered that you had left. you scribbled a message on a notepad, explaining that you didn’t want to keep intruding. you were probably too tired to realize that you had his war robe in your possession.
rayne could waste any more time making a trip to your dorm. it was a bit of a distance from his. the best decision at the moment was to let you have it and attend the meeting without it.
that is how he ended up in this situation, late and stuck sitting next to ryoh.
“y/n has your robe, don’t they?” ryoh teases in a whisper. for some reason, ryoh had discovered rayne’s relationship with you. whenever the two visionaries crossed paths, his senior never fails to mention you.
the sword cane doesn’t respond. “that’s a yes, isn’t it?” ryoh continues with a shit-eating grin. he pokes the arm of the boy next to him
rayne inhales. gods, he was not going to hear the end of this.
whenever you and rayne are apart due to his job as divine visionary, you communicate through letters sent by owls
he talks about the places he’s at and shit talks the people he doesn’t like
you tell him about you classes and how things are back at the academy, especially things going on within the adler dorm
and you occasionally give him updates on finn because you know deep down rayne cares about him
an owl lands on the sill of the open window of rayne’s temporary room. the animal clamps down on an browned envelope placed in its beak. rayne approaches the bird, and it drops the letter into his hands before flying off.
the mattress of the bend sinks under rayne’s weight when he sits on it. he unfolds the piece of parchment in his hands unsealing the envelope. his eyes scan down the letter that reads:
dear rayne,
how’s your trip? i hope nothing’s gone bad. things back at easton have been the same as usual, but it’s not that fun without you here.
classes are boring, but that’s nothing new. i might rip my brain out. i’ve been baking to try and cope. by the way, when you get back, you have to try this cheese tart i made. i had your brother and a friend of his try them. they seemed to like it a lot. i don’t know the name of the kid yet, but he wants me to make cream puffs next time. he says they’re a lot better than cheese tarts so you’ll have to try those too.
speaking of finn, he’s doing extremely well. he’s making lots of friends which is really nice to see. he always seems nervous to talk to me though. am i intimidating or something. i don’t think i am. unless you’ve been saying some things about me then i think we’re gonna have a problem…
gods, i miss you so much. come back soon. i’ll be waiting for you always. take care of yourself and don’t stress too much. i love you.
- y/n
p.s. please get me a souvenir. thank you! i love you, again.
rayne stands up, finding a sheet of paper and a quill. he pulls out a chair by a table. a slight smile flashes on the visionary’s face as he writes back to you—his home.
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