#And can't help but do something about it >w>

[jqnehr]

❝ 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐲, 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧'. ❞ | boothill.

boothill x fem!reader.

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you and boothill meet in a bar, and have a very nice chat (aka, you flirt like mad).

𝐜𝐰: SFW!! no use of y/n, alcohol consumption (it's a bar come on now), bar banter/flirting. (pathetic attempts at) funny haha humour, and ermm well inspired by old 1950s western films (my dad adores john wayne i cannot escape them HELP), but like in the hsr universe yk. this one was meant to be funny because i had a BALL playing around with boothill's CANONICAL censor oh my god i love him. imagine calling him a fucktard and the only thing he can clap back w is "you son of a biscuit-eating bulldog" (what the french toast?) or something idk. can he say that? or can he only say nice things—anyways enough rambling 😔

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: (continuation from above basically) this man i tell you. i can't sleep. can't eat. he plagues me. day in and day out. i do not have the funds to pull for him. how dare he look at me with that sexy smirk? ain't got no money pal sorry. anyways here's a lil thing i wrote in honour of this man making my chronic fatigue worse <3 NOT PROOF READ. it is currently 12:44am as im posting this so there will be MANY typos haha im going to sleep now.

"You look like you should be in a saloon."

The gun-slinging Galaxy Ranger glanced up at the woman who just took a seat beside him from beneath the brim of his hat, drawn from his thoughts. She had taken a seat that was a respectable distance from him, two bar stools down, the message clear that she wasn't here to chat him up and lead him off to somewhere secluded and have some 'fun', but was only here for small talk and a drink. Good thing she wasn't coming onto him, too. Saved him having to turn down yet another woman looking for a fleeting one night stand.

He went back to absentmindedly swirling the malt juice around in his glass. Car oil, basically. He let out a small chuckle. "Ain't the first time I heard that one."

"Yeah? Makes sense. Fit's cool, though." She nodded to his cropped jacket, his spurred boots, his pants with their sides unzipped. She didn't seem to be bothered by the sight of his belt lined with ammo and a holstered gun. "What's that your drinking? Looks like engine oil."

"Malt juice," Boothill humoured her. "Can't drink nothin' else. Perks o' bein' a machine."

"Machine?" The woman lifted a brow, taking a sip of her beer. "Ah, gotcha. You're a robot?"

"Cyborg, yeah." It didn't matter if he divulged in her what he usually wouldn't. It was just tedious small talk, a nice weight off his mind, and he wouldn't ever see her again, anyway. "Got its pros and cons."

"I see." He was starting to become rather surprised at how...nonchalant she was about this. She lifted her beer jug to her lips once more. "So, what do you do for a living? Go around cosplaying as a cowboy?"

"Heh. If ya like, sure." Boothill was getting curious. It was once in a blue moon he came across someone as relaxed as this woman. "Let's say, it's my...signature look. Across the galaxies. Helps people remember me."

"You're starting to sound like a criminal on the run," she laughed lightly, only out of politeness, really. "Considering the people I've come across around here, I wouldn't mind getting you've got a bounty on that pretty head of yours."

"Uh-huh." He swigged the last of his malt juice. "Perceptive of you, sweets. You a local? Frequent?"

"Pretty much." She shot him a glance. "And it seems I was right. Eh, don't worry. I don't care enough about ya to turn you in. How much you wanted for, anyway?"

"A lot." Boothill grinned impishly. "Those IPC cuties keep bumpin' the ‘prize money’ up, if ya like." He made air quotation marks. "Yer'd be set fo' life if ya got yer hands on that money."

"I'm sure I would be." She really didn't seem to care. "If you don't mind me asking, what's your name?"

"Boothill," he answered, inclining his head towards you. "What about you, darlin'?"

You gave him your name, downing the last of your beer, before hailing the bartender over for a refill. "Nice to meet you, Mr Boothill."

"D'aw, shucks, haven't been called 'mister' in a long time!" Boothill flashed a toothy grin, showing off his shark-like teeth. He noticed how you didn't recoil, barely even blinked, at the sight of them. "Makes me wanna buy you a drink, sugar."

"By all means." You're never one to pass such a offer up. "And you like to flirt, too, huh?"

He watched you rummage around in your purse for something. You finally pulled out a compact mirror and checked your appearance in its tiny mirror. He leaned forward, took your free hand, and placed a kiss to the top of it, winking at you from under his cowboy hat's brim. "With such a lovely lady as yourself? How could I not?"

You laughed in a rather unladylike way—you, more or less, gaffawed—before retracting your hand and tipping his hat right down over his eyes, disorienting him. Your cheeks burned. "You're a funny one, Mr Boothill. You sure know how to woo a lady."

He adjusted his hat, huffing, leaning back in his seat. "I wasn't bein' funny. I like ya. I don't just kiss any old woman's hand."

"Got a little crush now, have you?" You raised your beer jug up in his direction as a friendly salute of sorts, grinning. "Cute of you. I like you, too, but I'm not letting you take me home."

"Ain't got one to take ya to." Boothill shrugged, not noticing how your smile suddenly vanished and you were looking at him. "Sons of biscuits made sure I couldn't have one no more, 'cause I wasn't about to let 'em get away with shady things they keep nicely under wraps."

"'Sons of biscuits'...?" You echoed, puzzled. You were also suddenly feeling quite sorry for the man. He was a roamer—a nomad of sorts, never stuck in one place for very long. That, you were instantly able to tell once you first laid eyes on his broad back.

"Someone had a little play around with my Synesthesia Beacon, so now I can't say nothin' mean—I'll try to say honey, honey, ugh. I'm tryna say honey." He tsked in frustration. "See? Can't say it."

"You can't swear?"

"Yep. Very aggravatin' at times. Whenever I wanna yell the s-word in combat, I just say somethin' ridiculous like 'terrific!' or 'groovy!' I sound like a right looney tune."

You chuckled. "I can tell that if you didn't have that censor on, you'd have the mouth of a sewer."

"Heck yeah. I'm goin' to town with all 'em bad words right now in my head," Boothill scoffed. "Love 'em, love 'em, love 'em—see what I mean? Hopeless. Wanna drop the f-bomb real bad."

"Perks of being a cyborg, indeed," you laughed, patting his shoulder. "It's rather funny to see such a tough-looking guy like you run around without anything else to yell but 'unicorns! Cotton candy!' when someone jumps you."

He snorted. "That's about right. Had one cutie pie try to mug me once and I was gonna swear his ear off, but all that came out was "look at this angel!" instead of 'punk', but it's a way more colourful word than that."

"Gotcha." You leaned your elbows against the wooden top of the bar. You opened your mouth to continued, but a sudden commotion at the other side of the bar cut you off. Glancing over also, you and Boothill watched as one drunk mountainous guy versus a scrawny little weasel of a man went tooth and nail at each other.

"How's the skinny one still alive?" Boothill amusedly remarked, leaning his cheek on his fist. "Looks like a cartoon."

"Happens all the time." You watched on rather boredly, almost wincing when the small guy very narrowly missed getting his face flattened by his opponent's massive fist. "Those two baffoons are too drunk to think of anything other than settle this scrap with punches. Makes for a good show, though."

Boothill hummed, before turning back to face you. "Can you fight?"

"Me? Well, I know basic self defence, and when to tell someone's spiked my drink." You pushed the beer jug around on the bar top absentmindedly. "This environment's dangerous for a woman. Gotta look out for myself around here. I should stay away, but I like my alcohol."

He chuckled, gazing at you. "Glad to hear that. You ain't some damsel in distress. You're really somethin', you know that, sugar?"

You blushed at his stare and words. "Oh, get off it. It's something every woman's got to know in life. We shouldn't have to, but we do. It's sad."

"Sure is." He pursed his lips, suddenly grave. He may have been a vagabond in a way, but that didn't mean he didn’t have morals. And then he playfully nudged you. "Ya know, seeing an independent, badass lady like you is real attractive."

You grinned. "Boy, if you were anyone else, I would've slapped you for that. That is an instant red flag for any woman in a bar."

"Well, I'll tell ya right now, I'd never harm a woman unless I had no other choice." Boothill stared at you. "Especially not for my own gain. Hurtin' people ain't fun, even though it's my lifestyle."

You shrugged, trying to ignore his intense gaze and the way your heart rate picked up. "A sad reality, but it's nice to come across a man with manners." You finished off your beer and stood, slinging your handbag strap over your shoulder, giving him a kind smile. "Well, thanks for the talk, Mr Boothill. You're a gem."

He stood after you, the spurs on his boots jingling with the movement, before he took your hand and pressed another smooth kiss to the top of it. Then he winked once more, just as a finishing touch, and your cheeks flared. "Any day, darlin'. Say, how about I give ya my phone number? Have another drink sometime."

"You sure? Your vigilante habits wouldn't get in the way of it?"

He laughed goodnaturedly. "Oho, that's funny, sugar. Nah, I'd always make time for you. Here, hand me ya phone."

So you did, and he swiftly typed in his number, before returning your phone to you. "There ya go. Send me a message so I'll know yours." Then Boothill stooped down to eye level with you, staring at you from beneath his lashes and hat, lifting a hand to ruffle your hair affectionately. "Till we meet again, sweetheart."

With that, and a lingering stare as he strode by, the cyborg cowboy left you stunned, heart pumping, phone limp in your hold. He was gone in a blink, giving you no room to wish him farewell also, so you did it by text.

you forgot to pay the bill for your drink

so I covered it for you.

you owe me one, cowboy

His reply didn't take long, and it made your face burn hotter.

Oopsies 🤭

How about I pay you back by taking you to dinner huh?

His emoji usage made you laugh. And so you accepted his offer.

Alright then

I want steak

Can you even eat?

You liked how he always replied fast.

Nah

But that's fine

Your company's better

Suffice to say, you liked the man's suave manner and flirty compliments. It made you feel exhilarated.

Maybe it was because of his classic cowboy moves. Tipping his hat to you in respectful greeting or goodbye, a gaze much too human for a cyborg, and his smooth gestures that made you hot all over.

Yeah. Maybe it was. But, either way, you couldn't wait to see him again.

© jqnehr 2024. all rights reserved. do not translate, repost/redistribute and plagarise any of my works.

[murdrdocs]

masturbation mention; handjobs; college!art; fem!reader; no spoilers MDNI 18+ w/ ART DOANLDSON

when art donaldson gets a boner, it's nearly impossible for it to go down. he's tried everything in the book. well, everything in patrick's book—taking a cold shower, thinking about his grandmother in her underwear, changing his position. but nothing has ever worked, leaving him to excuse himself at inconvenient times so he could fist his cock until he was satisfied.

but being here with you, art can't do that. he's already flaked on your study sessions one too many times and he really, really doesn't want to have to flake again. for a reason as trivial and embarrassing as a boner at that.

he really didn't mean for it to happen. but he just happens to be in your space, surrounded by your trinkets, watching you move around in a pair of shorts that reminded him of the pair tashi wore that night. which got him thinking about the situation he was in just a year ago. which made him imagine you and him in a situation similar, perhaps even with tashi and patrick there.

you're speaking to him. your hands are moving in patterns that art should recognize, and you're lips are moving, too. but he's distant. distracted.

he blinks twice, shaking the overgrown blond curls out of his face as he fixes his gaze on you again.

"'m ... i'm sorry. what were you saying?"

you drop your hands and place them in your lap. you look disappointed.

"dude. i'm really trying to pass this midterm."

art drops his head. he initially does it in an act of shame, but then he notices your hands resting along your glistening skin and he's suddenly made aware of his boner once more. he groans, resting his elbows into the decorative pillow covering his lap as he covers his face with his hands.

"i know, i know. i'm really, really sorry." he sniffs, straightens up, and focuses all of his attention on studying with you. but now it's you who's distracted.

you tilt your head and eye him up and down. art, worrying that you might have fucking x-ray vision or something, adjusts the way he’s sitting. he thinks he's being casual, but then he clears his throat and looks off to the side and he can hear your small 'oh'.

“haven’t tried thinking about your grandmother?”

art, embarrassed at having been caught, says nothing.

“want me to help you out?” you offer. you say it like a joke, so art laughs. but then you don’t laugh, too.

you’re staring at him, a small smile on your lips as you push your weight into your hands behind you. the twin XL bed can only allow so much room, so even as you’re leaning away from him art feels like you’re right there.

“you’re joking, right?”

you take a second, and then you shake your head.

and that’s how art ends up digging his hands into your sheets as he watches your hand glide over his cock through heavy eyes.

you’re sitting with your feet tucked under your butt, one hand scratching through art’s hair and the other working on his cock.

art’s free hand is pressing into the line of skin between your top and shorts.

you’re doing so well, making him feel so good, but you still ask for confirmation through a low voice.

“does this feel good?”

and your face is so much closer to him than he thought. your voice is right next to his ear. it travels down through him, making even more blood rush to his cock if even possible.

art nods, tearing his eyes away from your hand wrapped around his cock to look at you. but you’re already looking at him, your hand pulling on a loose curl of his while you smile. art smiles back, just before you pull him closer and press your lips to his.

kissing distracts you, so art takes over. he shifts his cock up into your hand, doing the work for you. he circles his hand around your back and pulls you closer until he can feel your breasts pushing against his arm through your shirt. whatever bra you’re wearing must be thin, because art can feel your nipples poking him.

he means to warn you. he wants to let you know before it happens. but you regain some of your focus and your thumb presses into his tip, and he’s thinking about how you told him he had a pretty dick, and he can feel your tits and suddenly his hips are lifting and cock is twitching and he’s cumming all over your hand and his thighs.

[pumpkinbxtch]

Hi!! Idk if this is against ur guidelines but would you be okay with doing hcs for aftercare w Jason Grace? I love your writing sm and I love my heroes of olympus boys 😔🙏❤️

ᬊ jason grace | aftercare headcanons

☆ radiostar is playin': my girl by the temptations...!

warnings: sexual references, aged up (as everything in my writings) a/n: Heyyy, YES. this kind of content is accepted in my rules, which you can read here — rules. thank you sm for your cutie words 🥹🫶🏻 and thanks for passing by my blog! — kisses from Jupiter 💙

Jason is one of the best at aftercare because he's an amazing lover and boyfriend, no more to argue about.

Whatever position you end up in, he carefully slides out of you, not wanting to hurt you.

He's probably feeling a bit too much, just like you, so the first thing he does is ask if you're okay, without hugging you yet to avoid overwhelming you.

It's only when he sees that you're fine that he cuddles with you for a few moments while your breaths regulate and your hearts stop threatening to burst out of your chests.

And as soon as he feels a bit better, he'll be checking on you. He'll run his fingers through the hair on your neck and give you sweet kisses. "Are you okay?" he asks in his husky voice while stroking your bare shoulder.

It's so cute because he treats you like a delicate piece of glass after nearly breaking you in two and just telling you the dirtiest things, but you live for those two sides of him because damn, he's hot, right?

Jason always thinks about the type of aftercare you'll need depending on how you're feeling afterward. Some days he knows you need some time alone after reaching your orgasm and coming back to yourself, while other times you need to cuddle with him until you both fall asleep.

Jason has many things planned; for example, he'll have supplies ready, so after kissing your cheek, he'll put on his boxers and go get water or snacks for you. He helps you sit up in bed and brushes your hair away from your face.

He loves seeing your sleepy face and the sleepiness in it, as well as how flushed is.

He can't help but give you delicate kisses, trying not to overstimulate you again.

He also shows his concern in words, asking or saying sweet things like "Is my girl tired?" "You're so cute" "Come on, honey, drink some water."

He'll also ask if he crossed any boundaries with you. "Was I too rough?" You just shake your head, and he smiles.

"Come on, let's clean you up," and he carries you to the bathroom when you're feeling better. Literally like a feather, no matter how heavy you think you are, he can carry you.

Some days you both shower together, and other times he waits outside the bathroom while you shower. Maybe he'll be changing the sheets and tidying up the bed so you can rest better afterward.

You have your clothes in his place for moments like this, but still, Jason always prefers to give you one of his sweaters; he loves seeing you in them.

That man will cook for you and bring it to bed.

Once you're both changed, clean, and you've eaten something, you can finally cuddle up and enjoy the rest of the afternoon.

Kisses and caresses.

Him humming while he strokes your hair.

You resting your head on his chest and him holding you tight.

Small "I love yous" whispered in your ear and hugs.

Until you both fall asleep.

This sometimes changes, but it's always Jason paying attention to your needs at that moment, because for him, you're his whole world.

[missglaskin]

Yandere S.T.A.R.S Team (Resident Evil) platonic headcanons

Note- I am back (It's been years), this has been in my drafts so I said fuck it/this is so messy and the timeline/canon may not be accurate but enjoy! This is mainly platonic, but w/some characters it could be interpreted romantically

Characters; Albert Wesker, Chris Redfield, Jill Valentine, Rebecca Chambers, Barry Burton, Joseph Forest, Brad Vickers, Forest Speyer, Richard Aiken, Enrico Marini, Kenneth Sullivan, Edward Dewey

The first person you perhaps meet is Albert; he is the leader of the S.T.A.R.S Team. Not only do all the recruiters get approved by him, but he also overlooks all your tests. He greets you like any other, but gradually something takes a hold of him. He's in denial at first, even seeming harsh. You may initially believe he didn't like you; oblivious to the countless files and cameras hidden everywhere.

Having the rest of the team be just as enamored was not on the table. You are immediately welcomed by the team and Rebecca is the first to befriend you since you two are the youngest of the team. Like how Richard was tasked with watching over Rebecca, he’s tasked with the same responsibility over you (even if Wesker preferred to do it himself).

Chris can't help but grow quickly fond of you. He positions himself in the role of your protector; feeling the utmost responsibility for your happiness and safety. So if you have any problems - whether it's with Chief Irons or getting in trouble for say, breaking a rule; trust he'll be quick to intervene and 'save' the day.

You're all Chris ever talks about to Claire and before long, the two of you cross paths. Claire, like her brother assumes herself in the role of being your friend right away. She occasionally pays you visits and you can be sure that you will receive calls from times when she's unable to visit. Claire expects Chris to keep her informed of you at all times.

Barry, Enrico, and Kenneth all take fatherly roles; they look at you and already placed adopted papers on the table ready for you to sign. It makes it all the harder for Wesker to have any absolute control as they all put their foot down.

Barry adores you and it’s not taken lightly when it’s said he treats you as his child, probably cause he views you as actually one of his own. He invites you to a family dinner, introducing you to his family who all naturally take a liking to you. Barry insists on his house always being open if you need a place to stay or run into trouble. 

Since Barry sees you as his own, there is a never-end to his dad jokes. Even when you comment on how terrible it is, he likes seeing the smile on your face. Trust you'll be invited to every birthday, barbecue, or any family Burton event.

Enrico while he adopted a fatherly role, he was a bit reluctant to get so attached to you. He’s the few in the team who's fully aware and doesn't hesitate to call out the others when he thinks they are going too far. He worries a lot about your safety, and most times it's Enrico who comes out on top of arguments on who gets to drive you home. 

Kenneth as the oldest of the team, feels the most responsible for you. He is aware just like Enrico and doesn't wish for you to be scared of him or the team. He wants you to come to him whenever you need anything, even for small tasks such as finding a specific file. Like Enrico, Kenneth has no problem telling the others to back off if you need space.

More trouble comes along when Forest and Joseph come along. They develop their tendencies the quickest and tend to be the most clingy out of the team. They (along with Chris) become your partners in crime.

Joseph is someone you can always count on to make you smile even in the most serious of situations; he doesn’t care when others lecture him for it. You're not safe from his teasing. Granted you're not the target of his pranks but he likes to poke fun at you from time to time. It's why no alarms are ringing in your head when he says something questionable, assuming he’s just being Joseph.

You're not safe from Forest's playful teasings either. He can be a little annoying, poking your cheek or trying to tickle you when wanting your attention. Like Joseph, he's very affectionate, putting his arm around your shoulder and resting his head on your lap if you allow it. The others lecture him for doing it so publicly but Joseph knows it's jealousy talking more than anything.

As said, a squad of its own is formed; Chris, Joseph, Forest, and you. While they tend to be jealous, the three are okay with sharing when it comes to each other. Forest and Chris enjoy competing in shoot training and showing off who can do it better, inviting you to place bets. They're happy to show you all the gun's tricks and let you choose your weapon's signature.

Joseph, being a mechanic, can't always spend as much time with you. But he'll eagerly drag you into teaching you the ropes, whisking you away from the other two. He beams with pride when you grasp something from his impromptu lessons. Even if he's not exactly teaching you anything, he's happy to chat about anything as he works. 

Jill becomes someone you’re close to, someone whom Chris and Barry trust to leave you alone with. She’s not afraid to whisk you away from the others when she wants to and won’t hesitate to call out anyone selfishly taking your time (Uhm Joseph). 

Most of all, Jill loves having girl time with you. She's there for any fashion advice, gladly taking you shopping to revamp your wardrobe. If you're unsure how to do your makeup, she's eager to help, though Jill never wants to teach you so you can keep coming to her.

Jill is also willing to use any excuse to have you stay over at her place anytime even suggesting sharing an apartment to ‘save money”. And if you think Wesker’s the only one with a bunch of files, Jill has a hidden drawer filled with everything she has on you. 

Brad becomes incredibly attached but is a bit shy about approaching you. He'll do little things to make your day better, like bringing your favorite coffee (watching you do it too many times) or organizing your desk just the way you like it.

Brad tries to agree with everything you do, supporting any ideas you bring forth in, team meetings and hesitates to snitch on you, always trying to talk to you first to prevent trouble (aka punishments). Similar to Kenneth, he's aware of his tendencies and doesn't want you to fear him.

Richard is the softest guy on the team as said, was tasked with watching over you and quickly grew fond of you, He has made it well known that if you ever need help you can seek him out even when you get in trouble, he’ll gladly keep it hidden from the others to avoid you being in trouble even taking the brunt of it.

If you find yourself spending time with Richard, trust that Rebecca is there, too, being the sweetest in the group as well. Initially, she might not fully grasp her tendencies, but once she does, her sole concern is your safety and happiness. She frowns upon hearing Jill and Chris discussing ways to keep you confined and is the one who tries to reassure the others not to be too 'harsh' on you.

Edward may appear intimidating, but he's actually a softie at heart. While he might not warm up to you as quickly as Forest and Joseph did, given some time, he grows fond of you and eventually places him as your trusted friend. He's aware that his demeanor can be intimidating and desires nothing more than for you to feel comfortable opening up to him, always offering a smile whenever he sees you around the RPD.

----------------------------------------------

Chief Irons has learned that you're the one person he can't even dare to go near. You might be a troublemaker, breaking every rule in the book, but Albert will put his foot down to ensure nothing comes of it. It's enough that the rest of the team has a dislike towards Irons, and he, along with everyone in the RPD, knows that crossing you means crossing the Stars team.

Wesker also keeps the extent of his monitoring and knowledge of you a closely guarded secret. He's aware that Kenneth, Enrico, Richie, Edward, and Barry all vocally dislike the idea of 'stalking' you in such ways (they all do but try to keep it as ‘morally right’). In his grand plan, he hopes to lure you away, but he must do it in a way that won't raise suspicion.

You have the most protective people watching over you. Even a simple accident like someone spilling a cup on you puts everyone on high alert.

Your favoritism doesn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the RPD, sparking rumors around the station that Edward and Barry quickly shut down whenever they hear someone bad-mouthing you.

Chris and Forest, on the other hand, can be incredibly impulsive, leading to all sorts of issues that Wesker and Enrico have to deal with. Jill and Joseph even got in trouble once for punching someone.

That means going on no dangerous missions; the one thing they all agree on. Wesker ensures that all your missions are carefully managed, eliminating any risks of you being in danger, and he pretends not to know what you mean if you ask. The other members are willing to gaslight you, suggesting that you just happen to get the easy ones, even Rebecca and Brad.

They're all eager to fight each other to train you, each claiming they're better at teaching you self-defense. Chris and Forest are the ones who usually end up teaching you since they're often the first ones to arrive. But everyone knows that if Wesker insists on training you, they can't object. And it's probably for the best, as some (Uhm Richard, and Edward) will pretend to lose or go easy on you because they don't want to "hurt" you.

The team normally doesn’t go out, but they all want to spend time with you. Usually, all of you go to diners (except for Wesker, wonder why). There's a little argument over who should order you to prove who knows you the best.

Your seat is chosen to please everyone, sometimes between Jill and Chris, other times between Richard and Rebecca. Another silent argument happens when they debate on who should pay for you; Enrico succeeds by slipping the payment to the waiter when the others aren’t looking.

Everyone always makes sure you come home safe. You expect numerous calls from everyone checking up on you. They all secretly know you're fine, as they're in cahoots with each other, but they just want to hear your voice.

There's also a chance that if Richard, Forest, or Jill are the ones bringing you home, they'll make some excuse about needing to stay overnight because they're tired or the weather is bad.

 If you need someone to drive you to the station or pick you up, perhaps because you can’t drive, they're all willing to fight each other once again to do so. They've left important meetings or appointments countless times just to rush to your aid. It's almost always Wesker, Richard, Enrico (and sometimes Chris) who beat the others in picking you up.

Once again, you're always taken to events that the teammates have. Brad is getting takeout, he's on his way to pick you up since he assumes you're also hungry. Forest wants to go out for a drink, prepare for him to be at your door, and when you attend together, he’s protecting your drink with his life and will even pretend to be your boyfriend. Barry has a baseball game he wants to attend, so why not come with him and his family. 

Jill needs to pick up a new outfit or something in the way, she decides to take you as well. Rebecca comes along, and sometimes the three of you have spa days in the process. Rebecca also loves going on road trips with you; there needs to be a person or two with you to ensure nothing bad happens. Rebecca once brought you to her favorite team's basketball game and the two of you shared those nachos and fries. It was Rebecca's happiest memory.

Movie nights are a must. Brad and Edward agree with anything you wish to watch, while Jill and Joseph are fighting over which ones to watch. Chris and Forest are trying to get your attention more than actually watching a movie. Meanwhile, Rebecca is actually enjoying the movie and wants to talk to you about it later on. She and Richard ensure you have your popcorn, and Richard brings your favorite bakery treats.

Expect to be always praised when you're around the team. Wesker himself praises you for a job well done whenever you find a clue or bring him the right file. Richard, Edward, and Rebecca are the most vocal. Also expect Chris and Barry to give you a pat on the back, while Forest and Joseph jokingly pat your head.

Wesker has you as his right-hand assistant, even when it’s not officially confirmed as such. You're tasked to help and stay by him whenever he needs assistance. He pretends not to see everyone side-eyeing him when he places your desk right next to his, but then again, they all ignore his stare when they come to your desk for whatever excuse they need.

The best people to comfort you are Barry, Enrico, Kenneth, and Richard. These men hate seeing you in tears. Brad will try to make you laugh while hugging you, while also finding the right words to comfort you. You can lie to Enrico, and he'll still know; he's memorized your body language, pulling you into an immediate hug before the tears even come. 

Kenneth's ability to comfort shines in giving the best advice and solving any issues you have. Richard will sit next to you and listen; it could be the middle of the night, and he'll gladly answer any call or stay up to do any activities that will cheer you up.

Something everyone has huge arguments about is punishments; it gets heated at times. These discussions are, of course, not done in your presence.

Wesker is open to punishments, Chris and Jill agree with precautions, and Barry may reluctantly agree but claim he wants nothing to do with it. Brad and Rebecca voice their disagreement but can’t really intervene. Edward and Richie, like Barry, say they want nothing to do with it. Forest and Joseph don’t like it but will let the others make the decisions. Enrico and Kenneth are the most vocal against such decisions.

-------------------------------------------

Everything is going well in the team until the mansion incident.

You had to be with the Alpha team, unaware of the fate that fell upon the Bravo team, as there was no way Wesker would have let you out of his sight.

You had to witness Joseph get mauled by the zombie dogs, and if it weren’t for Wesker shooting the one coming at you and Chris pulling you along, you may have been a victim of it. Getting into the mansion has them immediately checking for injuries, only to realize you are just shaken up.

If you try to suggest coming along with Chris to check on what’s happening, Wesker immediately disapproves, even pulling rank to have you stay by him, and Jill agrees. Chris assures you he'll be just fine.

Things happen and it may lead you to be separated from Wesker and Jill. It makes all of them panic and look for you. Chris is nervous but assumes you must be with either Wesker or Jill. Jill and Wesker are trying to remain calm as they search. There is a chance you will meet Rebecca, who informs you of Edward's death, and this leads to you reuniting with Chris. 

Alternatively, you may come across Barry, who refuses to leave your side, leading you to reunite with Jill. Both scenarios will have you meeting Richard, who immediately embraces you upon seeing you safe. You may also encounter Enrico, who seems hesitant to inform you of who he believes is responsible for the situation.

Forbid you get injured at any moment in the mansion, everyone will be in panic. Barry will try to reassure you, holding your wound while Jill rushes to get any herbs. Or Rebecca will try to tend to you while Chris silently panics in the background, refusing to leave your side. Richard will insist you stay in a room for your safety while he tries to find Rebecca or first aid. Enrico tries to remain calm, bringing you along with him as he rids the area of any zombies, fearing the risk of leaving you alone.

Soon enough, you will find out about Wesker's involvement, and his first act is to keep you as a hostage, even knocking you out. He’s merely bluffing but needs to keep the others away. If he encounters Enrico, he is well aware the man knows he’s a traitor and will kill him in front of you. After all, you will know the truth either way.

It all ends with Wesker believed to be 'dead,' killed by the tyrant, and the mansion about to blow up. You and everyone mourn all those who you have lost, and you are surrounded by the remaining survivors as they try to comfort you and tend to any injuries you may have gained. 

You are too lost in your grief and all you have experienced that you don’t realize the eyes all watching you, as they all make a silent vow to themselves to forever keep you safe. And most of all, you don’t know that Wesker has been reborn, getting out of the mansion as he plots his revenge.

@aphroditelovesu @yanderes-galore @gwynsly @tiddlybops

[utterlyotterlyx]

When I Became a Believer

Azriel Fem!Reader

Part Four

Summary - After dancing under the stars, you wake up and find yourself reuniting with a male you never thought you'd encounter again. Though, lurking fragments of your past life in Spring rear their ugly heads and you find that a certain someone isn't ready to let you live happily ever after.

Warnings - fluff, old friends reuniting, some angst, mentions of past trauma, slight ptsd themes.

Part four of the 'When I Kissed The Teacher' series - sorry it's taken so long! My inspiration has been very Eris driven recently.

Part One - When I Kissed the Teacher

Part Two - When I Met The Devil

Part Three - When I Danced Under The Stars

The warmth of the sunlight drifting through the slightly ajar curtains wasn't the thing that woke you that morning.

No.

It was Azriel's strong arm flung over your side which awoke you, more like made you jump from your skin at the groggy half-asleep haze you'd awoken to. The bed you lay in was usually yours alone, and it had been an extremely long time since you had allowed anyone into that space, since you had allowed someone to hold you.

Azriel was shirtless, clad in a black pair of loose cotton pants and little else, he lay on his front with his wings tucked back, your bed wasn't made to accommodate the Illyrian wingspan, and you frowned softly when you realised just how uncomfortable he must have been.

As if they had sensed you, his shadows danced over his shoulders and down his arm, peppering your face in sweet kisses as they coiled over your cheeks, one of them slithered backward and you watched it with a soft smile as it hovered by his ear. A lazy smirk fell on his lips and his voice called to you, as rough and warm as whisky, "You're staring."

"I can't help it," he squeezed the skin beneath your clothed him, you were drowned in a sheer lilac nightgown, and Azriel shuffled your positions so that his wings go stretch out a little, pulling you into his side and curling his wing around you, "I'm sorry for the bed, I know it's not exactly the best size for your wings."

Azriel hummed, eyes still half-closed, sunlight streaking over the right side of his face, "It doesn't bother me," he craned his neck to peer down on you, his eyelids blinking slowly as they adjusted and began to wake, "It was perhaps the most peaceful sleep I've had for awhile."

Tracing small shapes on his taut and exposed chest, you asked, "Really?"

"Really," his calloused fingers entwined themselves in your own, and he lifted your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles softly, "How are you feeling?"

It was a question that you didn't really know how to answer, but you tried, "I'm okay. Part of me is still shaken up from seeing him, I think it'll take some time to believe that he's not going to do something to me. I just wasn't ready to remember it all so suddenly, I suppose."

Azriel had made it very clear that you needn't tell him about the details of your life before Velaris, not if you didn't want to, and if you never did, Azriel was also at peace with that. The past life you had lived did not define you, your home court and family name did not define you, what defined you was what shone through the cracks in the darkness, the kindness and unwavering loyalty and irrevocable devotion to his family.

"I understand," his shadows floated over you, almost embracing you themselves, and Azriel made no move to pull them away, "If you're reconsidering meeting with Lucien, if you're not ready, then you don't have to see him."

Shaking your head, you sighed, "No. It's been so long," you looked to him through your lashes and sent him a reassuring smile, "Lucien saved my life, and I never had to chance to really thank him before he threw me on that horse and sent me away."

There was no reality that existed where you would ever say no to reuniting with Lucien, the male who kept you sane and made you feel seen and heard, the only male in your life at that point who had refused to stand by and watch the torture unfold.

Azriel pressed his lips to your forehead, his fingers caressing the side of your face as he pulled you closer into his side, wrapping both of his arms around you and relishing in the contact of your warmth and light, "I'll go and get us breakfast," he mumbled into your hair, letting his lips trail downward until they caught yours in a quick but tender kiss, a fleeting thing that felt natural.

You whimpered as he pulled himself from the bed, flexing his wings and rolling his neck, to pop the stiffness from them. Gazing back at you, he smirked, leaning over the side of the bed and kissing you again, humming against your lips before pulling back slightly, "I could get used to this."

"What?" Your fingers trailed along the curve of his jaw and his eyes bore into yours.

"Waking up next to you," the tip of his nose sloped down your own and then he pulled away entirely, tugging a shirt over his chest that he must have gone to retrieve once he had put your sleeping body to bed the night before, "Have a bath, I'll be back soon."

The silence yearned for him to return, but you waited a few moments before rising, the warmth of the sun washed over you through the fully opened curtains which illuminated your entire room, a room that held the mingled scents of you and Azriel. It wrapped the space in an ethereal, untouchable shield of sorts.

Laughter echoed from beyond the window and you took minute to appreciate it all, the looming mountains that had kept you hidden from the moment you had stepped into Velaris from Hewn City, the gardens and fields that were littered in every space possible, birthing life and beauty, and you bowed to the notion that perhaps you were safe, that Velaris was your home and you belonged there.

Though, as you peered at your own garden, expecting to see the array of blush pink and lilac tulips swaying in the wind, you frowned as your eye caught something out of place. A single tulip with petals of burgundy. To anyone else it would represent love, to anyone else, it wouldn't mean anything at all.

But you were from Spring, and you knew flowers. In all of the time you spent locked up at that manor playing pet to Tamlin, you had learnt every meaning of every beautiful flower in existence, he knew that.

That's why the sight of those blood-red petals made your heart flutter. It was a warning, an angry warning of the wrath you would face. That flower wasn't what unsettled you though, it was the fact that it had been so delicately placed in the garden of your home, like he was taunting you, telling you that he knew where you were.

You wished you could have laughed it off like it was a silly thing of nothingness, you knew anyone else would. So, you gobbled it down and supressed that fleeting feeling telling you to run as far and as fats as your legs could carry you. Azriel would protect you.

Right?

It had taken buckets full of courage to leave the confinements of your home, half of you didn't want to step outside, the image of that lone red tulip swaying in a different direction than the rest playing on a constant in your mind.

But Lucien was waiting for you.

Rhys had arranged it, the meeting at the River House, a much more informal abode compared to that of the House of Wind. Calling it a meeting alone was too formal for you to handle, what would you call two friends reuniting after such a time apart? Not a meeting, that was for sure.

Exhaling shakily, you couldn't bring yourself to move from the foot of the path, the last time you had been there you had seen him, and you couldn't be completely sure he wouldn't be there waiting for you again.

Sensing your doubt, Azriel laced his fingers with yours, and offered a soft smile, one that you couldn't quite return, "We can leave," he told you, he had watched you get ready, he had watched you change your outfit seven times until you settled on a pale blue sun dress with puffy sleeves and a white lace corset moulded into the bodice.

He had told you that you looked beautiful and breath-taking, and you had merely muttered a small thank you before taking his outstretched hand. Azriel noticed your clammy palms, he didn't move away from you as your free hand clasped around his bicep, using him as a crutch.

"No. I'm okay. Just give me a second," you squeezed your eyes closed, taking a moment to steady your breath and work up the courage to enter the home and live the dream you had always drifted to, "Okay," you opened your eyes and glanced upward at him through your lashes, "I'm ready."

The path seemed to widen as you strode up the cobbled stone, the windows brightened at your approach, and you could faintly see, and hear, Lucien chatting away within the home. He hadn't changed one bit, a blessing really considering what Tamlin could have done to him if he had known that Lucien was the catalyst of your disappearance.

Faltering slightly, you stopped at the door, not knowing whether it was rude or not to just walk in, and Azriel let you decide what would be best. The door vibrated under your curled fist, three curt knocks sounded on the wood, and you took a step back and waited.

Velaris had been shrouded by the heatwave that had drifted up from the Summer Court, the walk to the house was full of visions of ladies fanning themselves and children swimming in the ponds and lakes within the city, ice cream vendors had set up on every corner, but you couldn't stomach a sweet treat, even if it would save you from the searing heat prickling at your skin.

Let's just say that you were glad you had opted for a dress that was lightweight.

The oak door opened to reveal Rhys, he grinned at you, clearly excited for what he was able to witness in that moment. Then, he glanced to Azriel who you saw nod from the corner of your eye, not caring at all about the silent conversation between them as your eyes delved further into the home, expecting to see your former fiancé lingering in the shadows.

"Come in," Rhys spoke, laying a comforting hand on your shoulder.

Azriel stepped forward first, knowing that if he didn't pull you inside that you may bolt from the situation altogether.

Laughter echoed from the next room, that deep joyous sound that you had yearned to hear for too long, "I'm glad to see you," Rhys towered over you, he always had, but you had never found it threatening, you had found it more loving than anything.

The skin around your fingernails was red and sore, you hadn't stopped picking at them all morning despite Azriel's genteel scolding, "He's in there?"

Humming, Rhys moved to your other side and placed a stoic hand on the small of your back, "He is. Would you like to see him?"

Part of you was terrified. What if he didn't recognise you? What if he didn't like what you had become?

The pit in your stomach swirled with tentative excitement but you nodded, a bit too eagerly, a hand resting on your stomach, "Please."

Rhys glanced to Azriel whose gaze hadn't moved from you, ready to whisk you away if you even muttered the desire, and when you looked to the Shadowsinger, with eyes wide and pleading, he moved forward first, concealing your figure behind his wings as he reached for the handle and pushed the door open.

Silence cut through the laughter, tension lingered in the air, and you knew that Azriel was staring Lucien down, and you knew from the sound of rustling leather that the former male had rose to his feet.

Azriel entered, his wings still stretched, wings that would stay that way until you were ready. Rhys squeezed your hand in his and rounded the curve of the wings of his brother, and then you appeared, gently grazing Azriel's hand that he had clasped behind his back; he craned his head over his shoulder and you nodded, and then he lowered them.

Lucien was exactly as you remembered him.

Tall and stoic, russet eyes and the scar that made you alike in more ways than one, the golden freckled skin and the long red hair that was braided over his shoulders. He looked older in a way, which was to be expected, his eyes were heavier, and you couldn't help but feel responsible for some of that.

A smile, a teasing but loving smile tugged on his lips, and you could have sworn you saw his eyes glisten, saw that glisten pool on his bottom lids, "Hello, you."

Voice like honey, smooth and sweet, and you couldn't stop the sob from escaping your lips as he crossed the room and bundled you into his arms. Crackling flames and cinnamon. It ached to smell him, to hold him as his fingers ran through your hair, "You haven't changed at all."

"Let me see you," he cradled your face in his hands, his eyes wandered your face, and a single tear fell down his cheek that you swept up with your thumb, "Look at you," he smiled and swallowed hard, "I'm so proud of you."

Emotion clawed at your face and you couldn't help but cry, it was relief and sadness, the worst part of leaving Spring was leaving him behind to tend to the wolf. Not a day had gone by where you hadn't thought of him.

The last time Lucien had seen you he wasn't sure if you'd make it. You were so frail, the fight within you had vanished, he hadn't seen you smile in months, you were broken and felt no desire to put yourself back together.

"Thank you," you strained, your throat bubbling with sobs, "I would have died there if it wasn't for you. I don't know how to begin thanking you."

Lucien shushed you, "You already have. Look at how far you've come y/n. It was all worth it, like we said, remember?"

How couldn't you remember?

"The wound is the place where the light enters you," you spoke the words in a whisper and Lucien watched your lips form the words he had spoken to you after one rather terrible night, on the night where you had been so close to breaking, so close to ending it all.

Lucien was the one who made you fight, he was the one who gave you hope and muttered words of worth into your ear. Grinning like a feline cat, Lucien finished the sentence for you, he spoke to you the words you used to utter in reply to him, "Light it up, y/n."

The words held a different meaning now, you weren't a broken girl anymore, you weren't the daughter of some Spring Lord or some fiancé to the High Lord himself. The words meant something else entirely, you had shone, you had shone in every place you had went after Spring, you had lit up the world, and you had done that because you had found the strength in your darkest of days to sprout from the earth and grow.

You knew that the room was watching you, but you didn't dare to let the embarrassment worm its way inside of you as you became aware of Elain and Feyre, and of Azriel and Rhys around you.

"Light it up, Lucien."

In that moment, you blissfully forgot about that foreboding message laid bare for you outside of your front door, you pushed it aside to feel the blanket of false safety wrap itself around you. The day turned to night, and you found yourself unmoving from the space between Lucien and Azriel, Nyx had crawled into your lap the moment he had seen you and kicked up a fuss in Nesta's arms.

How foolish of you to believe that you were allowed to be happy. How foolish of you to believe that the blood red shadow rooted deep into the earth of your home was nothing but a paranoid figment of your imagination.

Author's Note

Sorry again! I hope this was worth the wait x

Taglist

@fxckmiup @sh4nn @acourtofbatboydreams @lilah-asteria @iloveboba777 @lisanna2000 @brieflyclassymortal @thecraziestcrayon @mybestfriendmademe @acourtofmoonlightandstars @5onedirection5

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Hi I can't see if requests are open but if they are can i have the third years plus Riddle and Jamil with a reader like Ms Frizzle? like they are very cheerful and school oriented and always willing to demonstrate something for a classmate whos struggling, and going on cool field trip like adventures. like Adeuce struggling with botany? here boys a trip to the botanic garden to study up close is in order. Epel whining about makeup? MC thinks it would help if he saw the whole process, and suddenly theyre making their own face creams for fun. they make mini terreriums with Jade to grow mushrooms and observe the growing process. you get the point. (its also a hc of mine that ms Fizzle sewed all her dresses herself, because just, theyre too cool and specific to be from a store. however you want to put that in)

Frizzle Reader | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

Yes having a classmate and lover like that would be fun but imagine a teacher. Like when the mirror brought you and Crowley just assumed you were a student, you bring a finger to his lips and laugh. “School? Honey, I haven’t been on the other side of the desk in a good while!” And suddenly you’re the newest wacky teacher on his payroll. Of course the students can’t help but adore your spunky take on science. But the ones most effected are the staff you end up educating on the art of falling in love obsessively: 

Divus Crewel

“This pack of rowdy pups hardly know the first thing about chemistry!”

“Then let’s teach them my Dear Divus! Seat belts everyone!”

“You’re insatiable.”

He absolutely loves you

He just wishes you wouldn’t reward the misbehaving pups so easily 

The way their eyes sparkle when you teach and how no one sleeps

He’s jealous

Not because they listen to you

But because they all get to admire you so openly 

He’s got a reputation to keep 

He can’t be kissing the tips of your shoes in front of everyone

So he’ll settle for letting you teach in your unorthodox way

Dire Crowley

“Actually (Y/n), I was hoping you could do these filings for me! I have this uh thing I have to–”

“Now that’s not right. A man who should be filing isn’t too good at lying!”

“What I’m not–Look if you could just–”

“I have a glorious idea! Let’s explore the molecules of a stack of papers!”

“Nooo!”

At first he hates how you drag him into adventures especially when he tries to shirk his duties onto you

But it soon evolves to him begging to be included on the adventures you take the students on

And by then it’s not just an excuse to skip work

He’s desperately trying to spend some private time with you

But leave it to the pesky roadbumps students who blackmail and threaten him if he gets too close to you

“W-w-w-ait please! I-I’m the adult!”

He’ll have to resort doing something more drastic to get you alone

[scar-lie]

Hellooo~ may I know if you will make a part 2 for your story 'Their First Love'?

Their First Love Pt. 2 [Natasha]

Summary : The talk Natasha has been looking for, to apologize and to finally talk to you

Pairing : Natasha Romanoff x Fem ! Reader

Warningv: Crying

Word Count : 2,876

{THEIR FIRST LOVE PT. 1}

No one has permission to repost my work anywhere, if you see it please let me know

It's been weeks since you two broke up—well, not actually since you two aren't a couple—let's just say “since she busted you,” and it still bothers you.

Did you accept her decision? Yes, and you respect it, but did you move on or stop wondering about things? No, definitely not. The thoughts and questions keep you awake every night and mostly distract you from your work.

You kept asking yourself why she chose him. Am I not enough? Or am I doing too much that drives her away? Is there something wrong with me? Or maybe I did something wrong?

The questions keep coming, but there's only one that's imprinted in your head, and it never leaves your mind since you realize it. It's her hair.

You once asked her, "Why do you keep your hair red? You're a spy; you should be undercover, not seen.” At that time, all she said to me was, “Because I wanted my loved ones to always locate me and remember me in the event that they did forget me or split up with me, as winter always follows autumn.

That's when you realize that you're not hers; Bucky is and will always be the winter that always follows Autumn, and you feel such a fool believing that you could replace or at least be enough to be at Bucky's level in her heart.

But at least you try and come close, or at least you thought, but the thing is, what matters is what makes her happy, and she is happy with him; that is what matters to you, right?

“Hey, hey, earth, to Y/N, are you there? ”You snap out of your thoughts when Jess taps your right check, so you look at her with a confused look.

“What? ....sorry what were you saying? ”You asked, gathering yourself and coughing to cover your embarrassment in front of Jess.

“I said, get back to her.” You frown at her, and she giggles, laying her upper body on the couch back while you're in your swivel chair and big table in your office.

“I don't get it,” you mumble, enough for her to hear, and she shakes her head and rolls her eyes with an amusing smile, then puts her iced coffee down.

“Oh my god, Y/N, you're so easy to read, or at least on my side... You're thinking, and I know it involves ‘Natasha’ so just pick up your phone, dial her number and call her, or text her,” Jess said, throwing you your phone. She's been playing some games. You thankfully catch it because if you didn't, hell, you're going to kill Jess if that happens.

“No, she chose him, Jess, not me, so I’m not going to call or text her like a puppy hot on her tail.” You put your phone in your pocket, standing up, seeing it's already 10 and the wedding will start in an hour, and you can't be late.

“Now shut up, and we need to go because we will be late,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes at you, but reciprocates and follows down the garage, getting in your own car, and so does she, and starts the 40-minute drive to the venue.

On the other side, Natasha has been sulking in her bed for weeks now; she has no energy to do anything, and the only thing that keeps her away from bed is going to the bathroom, bar, or club. Other than that, she's locked up in her room; even Bucky can't even enter.

Since Natasha saw you that day, she can't help but stalk you. When you go to a cafe with her, when you go shopping with her, when you stroll with her, everywhere you go, she's there, getting jealous and feeling regret seeing you with her, and she wishes it was her who's by your side at those moments and not her until she saw you with her at the jewelry shop and decided to approach you or just eavesdrop.

But once she came close, she stopped dead in her tracks. Hearing those words coming out of your mouth, “This is perfect for a wedding band," she quickly turned around and left the mall. You're buying a wedding band with her; were you getting married with her that fast? She questions herself when she locks herself in her room, crying. 

And Bucky heard her crying, and since then, he's been worrying about Nat. As much as he wants to help her and be by her side, he knows forcing her to do something or just go against her will be no better for the both of them, so he constantly knocks on her door, asking if she's okay, even asking F.R.I.D.A.Y. about her, leaving food and a note in front of her door.

But today, he had enough, and he knows the only person who can help Natasha, so he's on his way to have a little talk with you.

And when he gets the information that you're on your way to the wedding, he quickly flies off, overspeeding, and goes to a different route to catch up with you, and when he does, he quickly drifts to block your car with his

But you almost hit him if you didn't hit the break quickly. You scoff and get out of the car when you see Bucky getting out of his car.

“Long time, no see, Mr. Barnes,” you sass at him, folding your arm in front of you and letting him approach you.

“You need to come with me,” he's in his stoic expression, and he proceeds to grab your arm, but you back away and swat his hand, and that's when Jess got to you, worried in her eyes.

“Oh my god, hey, watch where you're going; you can't just stop people like that,” Jess shouts at him, but you stop her with your hand when she's going to attack him.

“Get in your car and go to the venue; I’ll be there in a few.” She wanted to argue, but you glared at her, so she nodded.

“Be careful.” With that, she drives off, leaving you and Bucky alone on the side of the road, and thankfully, there's not much of a car passing by.

“What do you need, Barnes? ”You stand tall, seeing him searching for the right word.

“I—you need to come with me; I wanted to show you something,” he said calmly, but you raised your one eyebrow at him.

“And why would I need to come with you? I barely know you; I don't know your intention; you could kill me or something if I come with you.” Bucky sighs, closing his eyes, then looks back at you, and you see the desperation in his eyes.

“If you're that desperate for me to come with you, why not tell me the reason? Cause I have somewhere to be.” Bucky is annoyed, yes, but he stays calm for Natasha's sake.

“It's Nat; she needs you. I know it sounds crazy, but you're the one she wants, the one she loved and still loves. She needs you, Y/N.” You stay motionless and emotionless; you just scoff at him and roll your eyes at him.

“That's funny, Barnes; she doesn't need me; she has you; you're the one she loves, not me; she chose you. Remember? ”You unfold your arms and take a step towards him, and you give him a sarcastic smile.

“You won Barnes; she's all yours, so whatever shit what's happening to the both of you, I don't care, so don't drag me into your shits,” you said, and you turned around to your car so you could arrive at the wedding just in time, but before you could reach your car handle, he took your arm and turned you around.

“She really needs you, ok... Yes, maybe I’m the one she chose before, but that doesn't mean I still have her heart.” Bucky sighs, not wanting to be the one saying this to you, but he guesses he doesn't have any choice.

“Natasha suffers enough; she gets confused when it comes to these feelings, making her go back and choose the things she’s familiar with, meaning getting back to me. She longs for the short times she has before, where our love gets ripped away by the organization we're in, making her choose the wrong decision.” It hurts him to admit that the love of his life doesn't love her anymore, but he knows that seeing her happy in your arms is better than seeing her forcing herself to be happy with him.

“She loves you so much, Y/N. She may have confused her emotions, but her love for you is already carved in her heart.” Then suddenly his phone vibrated, and seeing that it's an emergency mission, he smiled at you and reached for his back pocket.

“She’s you're Y/N; she always had been.” Then he took your hand and put the key in it.

"It's her key…..she really needs you.” He gives you a small, sad smile, then turns around and gets in his car, then drives off.

“You just roll your eyes and get in your car, hooking the key he gave you in the rearview mirror, and drive off.

Natasha sighs and sits up on the bed, realizing that sulking, being lazy, and sleeping with strangers will get her nowhere, so she stands up and takes a shower, leaving the man still sleeping on her bed. He was supposed to leave hours ago, but Natasha doesn't know what happened to her when she let him sleep here on her bed. All she knows is that his hold feels like your arms, or maybe she just thought about it.

Showers were taken longer than they usually are, but she did have a decent shower and change into fresh, comfy clothes, a loose shirt, and sweatpants, putting on a little makeup so her face wasn't as pale as it looked, and that's when she heard a knock on her door, so she groans and goes out of the bathroom, seeing the man in her bed is already awake.

“Go get dressed and get outta here,” she said, emotionless, and another knock again.

“I’m ok, Bucky, you don't have.” She stopped when the person knocked, got in, and looked around until her eyes landed on Natasha and the man who's getting dressed.

And Natasha is shocked to see the one person she least expects to knock on her door and come in, but when she pinches her arm and it hurts, she knows it's real. It's you, standing in your white, above-the-knee-fitted formal dress.

Her heart fluttered, and the butterflies were dancing around her stomach. Her joy was on top of the mountain. She saw you again, and you're the one who came to her.

"Guess, I came here for nothing. Sorry for interrupting. Have a good day.” With that, you quickly shut the door shut, scoffing at yourself, thinking you shouldn't have listened to Bucky. 

On the other hand, Natasha was confused, but when she realized what was happening, she quickly looked at the man who's putting his pants on and looked at herself in the mirror, a hickey on her neck and wet hair.

“Shit shit shit,” she cursed and quickly ran behind you to explain.

"Y/N, wait, please, let me explain.” She then took your arm, stopping you and turning you around.

“Explain to me that you're doing fine and fucking other people because you and Bucky didn't work out? Don't worry, I get it. I shouldn't have listened to your ex. Now I have wasted my time. I should probably go so you two can continue and I can catch up to the wedding. Have a good day, okay? ”Natasha was confused, and she didn't catch up with what you said, and whatever was on her mind was only Bucky, listen, continue, and Wedding, ‘Were you marrying her today? ’

“Wait what? No, no, no, wait, hold on,” she said, then again stopped you and blocked your way to the elevator.

"First, what Bucky told you; second, that man meant nothing, I swear; and third, the wedding? At what wedding were you getting married? Now? With her? ”You roll your eyes at her, then the man gets out of her room and walks past you two, and he kisses her on the head, making Natasha cringe and try to pat off the kiss he gave her.

“Last night was amazing; maybe we could go out sometimes.” This makes Natasha feel disgusted, and of course you heard it, so you roll your eyes and go around Natasha.

“Get a room, for god sake,” you say, then stand tall, waiting for the elevator after you press down.

“You're just jealous,” he spat back, and Natasha slapped him hard.

“Trust me, I’m not, and please make sure your dick is properly placed in those pants, and please wear underwear for god sake.” Then Natasha pushed him to the stairs, just to get him out of here.

“Leave now or else,” she said with gritted teeth, motioning her thumb from her left neck to her right, and he gulped, knowing she's capable of killing him without hesitation, and that's when the elevator door opened with a ding.

"Well, nice seeing you.” You enter the elevator, and Natasha quickly stops the elevator door and gets in. She was supposed to drag you out so you two could properly talk, but the door closed before she could walk out with you.

“Ok, ok,” Natasha sighs, and she turns around to look at you, where she finds you looking down on your phone, texting someone.

"Hey,” she tried to get your attention, but you didn't budge, so she took your phone and turned it off.

“What! ”You sigh with annoyance, looking up at her.

“Can you listen to me, please? ”Natasha begs, and you pinch the bridge of your nose and press the open door button, but Natasha unpresses it and stops the elevator, putting it into emergency

“You listen whether you like it or not.” You then press your back against the wall. Not much of a choice, you just stayed silent, your hand inside your pocket. 

“Thank you,” Natasha then sighs, getting nervous, and this is not what she imagines getting nervous for the first time.

“Ok, first, I’ll tell the truth. Yes, we had sex last night, and yes, he slept the night in my room, and yes, I’ve slept with a couple strangers the past few days or weeks, but I swear it means nothing.” You then cross your arm in front and look at her in the eyes; that made her feel so small.

“It's a one-night stand, nothing else, and for Bucky, well, he broke up with me. Why? Well, he said that my heart doesn't belong to him anymore; it belongs to someone; that someone's you, and he's right.” Natasha wants to take your hand, but it's hidden, so she rests her right hand on your arm.

“When he left, that's when I realized that I want you, that I love you, that when I’m looking for the future, you're there, you're always on my plan, on my dreams in every single one of them, and I also realized that I was being unfair to you when I just dropped you out and to Bucky when I’m still clinging to my past, where I’m too familiar and afraid to enter something new again, something I’m not familiar with, something I’m not good at, and I’m sorry for that.” tears running down her cheeks while she bites her bottom lips to suppress her subs, then she kneels before you, clinging to your right leg.

“Please forgive me. I-I’m so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you.” Natasha can't help but sob and cry on your thigh.

“Please believe me, I tried to contact you, or... or co-come see you... I tried.” Natasha keeps repeating the same word over and over again.

“Get up,” but Natasha didn't; her knees were weak.

"Romanoff, get the fuck up; you're making yourself look foolish.” You nudge her gently, but she shakes her head.

“Forgive me, please forgive me, please come back.” You sigh and palm your forehead, careful not to ruin your makeup.

“I don't know, Ok, I am moving forward, so, I don't know it, Romanoff, so get up and fix yourself; I need to go and catch up on a wedding.” Then you simply get away from her and pull off the emergency button and help Natasha on her feet, then wipe her tear with your handkerchief, making Natasha lean on your touch.

“I’ll contact you,” you whisper, and then the door opens, so you exit the elevator, go out to take your car, and drive to the venue.

As much as you want to be hard and cold to Natasha, there's always part of you that makes you weaker around her; she always makes your guard down and makes you vulnerable; you feel safe around her, the feeling you've been craving since you were little, and it took every willpower you have to be tough and cold-hearted towards her.

[dairy-farmer]

You know that annoying "redeemed by a Good Woman/redeemed by puss" troupe?

I just remembered Match :Dc

Kon's evil Clone twin. The one where they actually SUCCEEDED and he's totally down to kill Superman and is also super unstable physically etc.

But consider!

Secret Relationship! Bats are paranoid after all. Can't let our enemies or Dads know we're dating! Or fuuuuuckin.

So when the switch happens? And "Superboy" gets a nasty blow to the head that gives him spotty memory? Of COURSE his... "Best Friend"(tm) wink wink nudge nudge, is gonna take care of him. The whole team obviously knows. But no one else does.

So Match has no idea what's happening.

Has he been Made? THAT FAST? Shit, Bats really ARE something else. Better kill hi-... why is he hugging me? This... IS a hug, right? He's never had one before. It's not awful.

And so Match keeps pretending to be Kon. Slowly gets "better". Forgot a lot about Robin and their Relationship, of course, so they have to start basicly over. But isn't Rob the BEST? So patient! Hand holding. Cuddles. Tender kisses.

Hand jobs.

It blows Match's MIND. This? This is fantastic. No one tells him what to do, treats him like an animal, calls him an "it", and?? He gets all these soft touches and kisses? Robin's even talking about maybe having sex "again"!

Fuck. He is TOTALLY stealing the other clone's Life. RIP to that guy. His now.

Except? No The Fuck You Don't, Bitch(tm). Kon is actively waging a one man war against his captors. Fuck these guys. Luthor in particular. He has a boyfriend to get back too and a Usurper to curbstomp. Or fuck. Depends on how hot he is and if he's a dick. Kon DOES have a well known incest kink.

Might keep him.

But back with Match? B-be gentle with him Robin~ *bats eyelashs* *shoulder smack* they're doing the whole shebang. Cabin by a lake. Pizza and dancing. Sparkling grape juice since booze won't effect "kon" anyway.

Just? Everything Tim can think off to make it fun and memorable. He even remembered lube this time, because NOW he knows Kon is too big to take without a little help. It's like a do-over, almost.

It's ALSO the moment Match's loyalties completely fuckin switch. Ride or Die with THIS guy, specifically. [Robin has given Match: The Sex. Match will now willingly die for Robin.]

It's a literally life-changing First Time for Match and a Really Good for Tim. Laughing and tired from dancing, hands roaming each other's bodies, lazily finding what feels good. Tim sighing in pleasure, a pretty little roll of his body arching his back, as he let's his legs fall wide. Smiles at Match.

His hands still loosing hugging Match close, his kissable lips, soft in a lazy grin. The body under Match relaxed and full of trust. Touching him back. Just to feel his skin, too make him feel good too. Looking at him like he's wonderful. Like he's worth loving.

IS Loved.

Match wants to worship this. Steal it away. To hell with the world and "saving" it. He uses a brain meant for grand battle strategies, to memories every twitch and squeeze around his rocking fingers. What makes Rob feel good. What makes him feel BETTER.

Kisses his way down.

Gentle. Careful, so careful. He has so much strength.

He wishes he could suck, but doesn't trust himself. Luckily his tounge draws delight anyway. He let Rob roll them. Feels cradled, between those thighs, as Rob desperately rides his face.

Takes so much control for Rob to stop. He's shaking with it. He wants to continue so BAD. But wants Match's cock more. So Match gets passed the lube. Blindly fumbles to get ready.

He hears something, flying. Probably a plane. Not important. Robin's important. Lifts him so EASY. Feels him shudder, turned on by how easy Match moves him. They line up, and Match slides in like he's always been there. He has to let go or his grip will get too tight. Amazing. Wet, hot, soft... w-words... he can't...

And THAT'S when he gets a sharp stab to the arm with an injecter and a Smiling But PISSED, grabbed-by-the-throat-hard-enough-to-break-the-bed-frame Slam from ACTUAL Kon. Who has escaped.

And found Match in bed with his boyfriend.

The injector has the stabilizing agent they were withholding. The choke hold however? That's for him. Sup, buuuuuddy. Enjoying my boyfriend? Yeah, he DOES feel good. I would know!

Give me a reason not to kill you where you lay :)

Tim is confused as hell. Still horny. But very alarmed. Two Kons? One is clearly NOT Kon. Please tell him it's not the one he's in bed with. He does NOT want to be a cheater! Kon he would NEVER cheat! (Kon knows.)

Match... offers to switch sides? He would kill for Tim. Die for him. Is in love. Wants to be a person. Is mildly to moderately insane but can TOTALLY promise to keep a lid on his Crazy.

.....also this is kinda hot. Wanna make out? Do you think Tim would enjoy that?

Kon? Is basicly? Yyyyyep. That's a 'Me but fucked up' alright! Unfortunate. Hot though. Let's keep him. He's like one of those really, really ugly dogs you kinda can't help but falling in love with.

Tim? Still impaled on SOMEBODY'S dick and just wants to know what's going the fuck on. Face in his hands. Why is he dating this asshole? Why!? *gets smoochs* oh, right. Tim loves him.

Damn it.

Fine! Fuck it! Both of you, I GUESS, get over here. Time to live out some of those fantasies Tim's had but couldn't do with only one boyfriend. Kon! Naked! You! Name? Match. Okay, Match? Move your hips! *vigorous sex noises!!!*

And so they threesome it out! Until Tim can no longer keep up. Then Match n Kon pull on pants and blow up some bases, get pizzas, and come back for "round two". It's a great week!

Tim ends up on bedrest. Looks vaguely mauled. But with a delightfully dewy well-fucked shine~ to complexion.

-🐼🐼🐼

sex with tim getting ppl to stop being evil😍😍😍!

[itwasthereaminuteago]

|| Sweatpants (Frank's version) ||

Frank Castle x female reader

Tags/warnings: this is just an exploration in thirst (and smut) similar to the blurb I wrote for Matt, about slutty grey sweatpants. I want to lick him.

A very sweaty man, oral sex (m and f), come eating. E. Also, PLEASE, PLEASE reblog if you enjoyed, likes are nice, comments even better! There is NO algorithm on Tumblr, reblogs are how things are found on your dash! Thank you so much 💕

This isn't fair.

Yeah, it's hot, but it still isn't fair.

You'd long abandoned any notion of working out while you were at Fogwell’s tonight, Frank unknowingly saw to that. Your kettlebells lay off to the side, long forgotten. Your initial warm up would never have gotten you as heated inside as you are now, seeing what you're seeing.

Those goddamn grey sweats he's wearing are barely hanging on to his hips. You're sure they're actually screaming out to you for help.

Take us off, they seem to be whispering. You're honestly surprised they haven't yet fallen down of their own accord with the way he's been swiping hard at the punchbag for the last half-hour.

He performs the same routine over and over, several powerful jabs, hooks and uppercuts and then he'll back off, doing a little lap of the ring to reset himself. And every time you get a glorious view of his bare upper body, the way the sweat glows on his taut pectoral muscles, the way his abs flex as he moves, the gorgeous curve of his stomach, framed by the defined V lines leading your gaze all the way down from his swaggering hips as he strides past you.

Good God. His ass looks amazing too.

When he bounces back and forth on the balls of his feet you can't help notice something else bouncing up against the slack fabric of those fucking ridiculous sweats of his…

Your mouth is practically hanging wide open now. You blindly reach for the bottle of water next to you to quench your thirst, knocking it over and spilling some in the process.

It's just not fair.

He must know. He must. He's gotta know what all this is doing to you, how can he not?!

Your eyes lock onto an innocent bead of sweat, following as it slowly trails its merry way down his heaving body to the sweatband of his pants, soaking into the soft fabric where you know it'll leave that musky scent you just want nothing more than to bury your nose in.

You bite down so hard on your bottom lip you're beginning to wear a divot into it.

It's insane. They're slung so criminally low on his hips that you can almost see where his happy trail is leading, the dark fuzz drawing your eyes down again toward-

“You alright?”

That gruff, grizzled voice of his knocks you out of your reverie. Are you?

You resemble a doped up kitty that's just returned from the vet, your eyes wide, dark, and spaced out as he's suddenly very close to you right in front of your face. He's pulling off his hand wraps and leaning across to grab some water from the bag that's lying open on the bench next to you.

He smells so good.

You can feel the heat from his worked muscles radiating off him, can almost taste the fresh sweat off him, absently licking your lips again as you watch him run a hand up over his damp forehead and through his hair.

“Y-yeah?” When you eventually reply he cracks a smile that definitely ruins your panties, as if they weren't ruined already.

“Okay. M'gonna hit the shower.”

Oh

Oh no.

No no no, you can't have that.

“W-wait!” You stutter out, and you're on your feet, somehow the keys to the gym that Matt had left with you are grasped in your hand, and in a blur you're locking the door, pulling down all the blinds and you've got your fingers splayed over his chest trying to push Frank down onto the mat on the floor.

“Whoa, okay mama. It's like that is it?” Frank huffs out a chuckle but he goes exactly where you want him to, still catching his breath as you straddle his hips.

“...you're evil,” you murmur, tracing your fingertips over and around his nipples and watching how the muscles under your nails twitch as you draw them down to your target.

Frank looks up at you with that confused puppy expression with his brows almost crashing into each other that always melts your heart, but this time it's just making you even more determined.

“Evil huh? Shit. What have I done now?”

“Driving me crazy…”

“C'mon sweetheart, you gotta give me a clue or somethin’.”

You pull teasingly at the damp elastic waistband of his pants, “These.” you muse, letting it snap back against his skin then lowering yourself to lick slowly along the deep groove at his hip. Your eyes shut as you finally get the sweaty, musky taste of your man on your tongue. A soft grunt leaves him as he cranes his neck to watch, his dick already showing interest too as your mouth makes it way lower. He reaches down, his hand just resting on your shoulder, fingers tapping lightly to get your attention.

“H-hey darlin’, not that I don't appreciate it but… we doin’ this? Here? Now?” Frank asks with a very slight nervousness. It's freaking adorable.

You look up at him through your eyelashes knowing he'll fold soon enough. “Yeah we're doing this here and now, Frankie. I already told you - you're driving me crazy, and you were distracting me so much that I still need to workout.”

He smirks and you can see him start to get more comfortable with the idea of some naked shenanigans with you in Matt's gym.

“All because of these pants?” He asks.

“All because of those pants,” You reply, curling your fingertips around the waistband of them again. “along with the way you look like a giant snack in them.”

Frank scoffs, but lays his head back down and lifts his hips up as you tug at the ‘problematic’ pants to pull them down. Predictably, as discerned from your earlier observations, and much to your delight, he's gone commando today. You hum as his fully erect cock is freed, slapping against his stomach with a delicious smack.

“Fuck, Frank…’ you say, taking in the rare sight of him laying almost prone for you.

What to do…

“Hey princess, you're the boss.” He says perceptively, waiting so patiently for your lust-addled brain to decide whether you want to stuff your mouth or pussy with him.

It's a much easier decision than you thought, relishing in the familiar, quiet curses Frank is making as you start to work your way back up his thick, muscular legs, placing kisses wherever you want. When you reach his groin, you nose at the thatch of hair around the base of his cock, idly stroking and gently cupping his balls.

“Mm, I'm the boss.” You repeat back at him, smile sweetly as he grins at you.

“Yeah, that's right, oh shit-”

He makes a choked sound in the back of his throat and his cock twitches as you move your lips to the base, your tongue sneaking out to kitten lick his ball sac, gradually moving upwards, starting to trace along the thick vein that runs the salty length of his perfect dick.

You listen and are rewarded with the soft, low moan that comes from his throat when you keep going, the flat of your warm, wet tongue lapping underneath the head. He throbs again, a drop of precum beading and ready to leak from his slit.

“You're so good for me, Frankie.”

He's got those deep brown eyes trained hard on you, licking his lips, his chest rising with the deeper breaths he's drawing. They only increase as you wrap your fingers to grip around the base of him and then swipe and swirl your tongue to taste him. He moans, biting down his lip as you take him into your mouth, sealing your lips around his girth. Having him, the man the rest of the world only knows as the Punisher, his pleasure at your mercy, is maybe the most powerful feeling in the world. Or maybe that's when you have your own thighs wrapped around his head. It's a tricky one to answer.

“Fuuuck, sweetheart…” Frank hisses out, his hands self-restrained by his sides, “Mm, jesus christ!”

You hum around him as you pull your lips back to his tip before taking him as deep into your throat as you can manage, your hand working the rest of him. You repeat the motion, spit dripping down to his length and over your fingers helping your squeeze and twist, feeling the way he's almost shaking beneath you.

“God damn you're so good, so damn good to me baby.”

Your free hand switches between reaching up to dig your nails into the meat of his pectoral muscle and sliding down between his legs to gently tug and tease his balls. He groans loudly, you'd made a point in the past of making it known to him just how much hearing the sounds of his pleasure turns you on, and he had gradually rewarded you with more and more feedback.

You're almost entirely focused on him but now you can no longer ignore the incessant ache at your core. You're slick from almost an hour of getting yourself worked up at the sight of Frank boxing, still sucking and licking the length of his cock as you slip your hand into your leggings and under the soft fabric of your underwear. You moan around him as the pads of your fingertips slide over your clit, aware that Frank is propping himself up on his elbows to watch you.

“You want my mouth, mama? C'mon an get up here. Sit right here baby, let me take care of you.”

You release him temporarily to shuck off the clothes from your bottom half because you cannot refuse an offer like that.

He curls his arms around your bare thighs as soon as you straddle him facing towards his feet, pulling you straight down onto his hungry mouth without delay. You grind down to meet him as he laps at your glistening cunt, a wavering moan leaving your lips as you reach again for his rock hard, weeping red cock. You stretch your tongue out to lick and suck what you can, jerking him off as he devours your pussy like it's his last ever meal.

This was supposed to be all about him but as usual he's managed to flip the script and somehow make it all about you. You're hardly complaining, no. In fact you're riding Frank's face hard as his encouraging moans vibrate right through your core. He loves going down on you, could even say he lives for it, inviting you to sit right on his face almost every time you're intimate with each other.

Now that he's not snug in your throat he bends his knees and starts to thrust his hips up against the direction of your firm strokes, driven by the way you're grinding and rocking your own more quickly, completely covering his mouth and chin with a sheen of your arousal. You concentrate the tight circle of your forefinger and thumb just under the fat, wet head of his cock, twisting and squeezing up and over because you know that's what gets him panting and praising you. More salty pre trickles out and you eagerly lap it up.

You yelp as Frank thrusts his tongue as deep as he can inside you, fucking you with it before he nudges forward again, slurping and sucking at your puffy clit. The tightness and tension of your impending release is gathering pace as you hear how feral Frank sounds between your legs. You can barely keep a rhythm with either hips or hands but it doesn't seem to matter as you can tell he's as close as you are. You're half worried you'll smother him with the ferocity and strength with which he's holding you so close to him, as if he needs you to breathe.

Suddenly, the tension snaps, hard. His tongue making you cry out, your legs shaking underneath your wildly undulating hips as you climax, calling out his name repeatedly like a prayer, the sound reverberating around the gym. Your hand is barely moving on his cock but it's you quivering and moaning in ecstasy right on his face that sets him off. He's tapping his fingers against your hips in warning, as very quickly afterwards his own hips jerk up and with a muffled groan against your pulsing pussy, his cock spurts its creamy load. You catch some on your waiting tongue, the rest dribbling warmly on your fingers and down onto his tensing stomach and abs.

After a brief moment getting your bearings and breath back, you're both humming, satisfied, and softly laughing with each other. He supports you as you gingerly lift your leg over his head and turn yourself around to face him. He's licking his lips, the biggest smile on his gorgeously wrecked face, his eyes half-lidded as he pulls you down to him for a languid kiss, tasting each other on you as your tongues slide over one another. At the same time you're trying to find somewhere to place your come-covered hand so it doesn't go everywhere and you don't lose your balance.

“Mmm, okay you can't tell me that wasn't fun.” You say, and then your lips turn down as you remember something vital.

“Shit.”

Frank looks up at you, his expression one of concern. “What's wrong?”

“Urgh, Matt will know. He'll know even if we clean the mats and everything!” You groan again, wiping off your messy fingers on Frank's discarded sweatpants. “He won't let this go, we probably won't be allowed back in the gym!”

Frank just shrugs, a damn sight more relaxed now as he cleans himself off with them too.

“I'm pretty sure Murdock's done way worse in here. He aint that pure."

His lips curl into a grin. "Anyway, don't know ‘bout you, but I'll be puttin’ the blame on these pants. More trouble than they're worth, ain't that right, sweetheart?”

[midastouch-zaza]

brat (and power bottom) wonyoung w reader..

Oh, you better don't play with miss Wonyoung, like, yes, you're lucky finishing to bed with her, but don't forget she's an IT girl for a reason: she knows what she want and always gets it. So, congrats you're about to fuck her...or is she the one fucking you?

"So? Are you gonna stand there like an idiot?", she will asks, scoffing at your figure lost in admiring her body. Her lingerie embracing her curves, her long leng lazily moving around; they end up reaching your lower body, her foot caressing and teasing the bulge hidden in your underwear. "Well? You better bring here that fat cock", she would basically orders.

Finally recovering from your body being frozen, you decides to listen her order and getting on bed, ready to finally fuck that million dollar worthy pussy. "No, not yet", she would stop your hands reaching for her lingerie, putting instead her arms around your neck and bringing you down. Her tongue entering in your mouth, starting a make out session, while her hand pulls down your your pants, revealing your hard cock.

"Even a dummy like you can have such a nice cock, uh?", she would say against your lips, before starting to stroke your cock. She would alternate between going slow and fast movements, powerful strokes and light touches, bringing you so close to the climax. "Wanna really come in my hands? Do you know this mouth is not useful just to kiss?".

You need a second to realize what she has just said, then you change position, crawling till your crotch is right on front of her chin. Wony smirks and then opens widely her mouth, giving you the opportunity to fuck her face. The only sight of her stunning face doing something so lewd, her plump lips pressing against your hard shaft and the fact the she already pushed you to the edge with her hand make you cum so quickly in her mouth, moaning loudly.

She milks your cock and then lets it go completely cleaned, before swallowing it all. "Ahhh, you were kinda fast, but at least it was delicious. I just hope you will last longer inside my pussy, I can't do everything alone", she would tease you, slowly pushing her panty to the side, finally showing to you her glistening pussy.

You immediately crawl back, placing your tip right under her entrance. "Come on, don't be shy. Show me that your huge cock is not wasted with you", she teases once again. And this time she really got in your nerves. With a single, sharp and powerful movement, you slam your dick inside her pussy.

"Ah fuck, right there, fuck this pussy like you hate me", she growls her, pulling you down again to bite your lips and neck, while your cock is stretching her, and you could swear even her moans sounds pretty. She puts her legs around your waist, locking you inside but also helping you pushing deeper.

"Come on, pabo, punish this pussy, hurt my cunt with your stupid cock", she screams, while your hips are pounding her cunt with no mercy, moving at full speed while your balls are slapping against her soft ass. "Yes, yes, yes, finish your fucking job, fill me with your cum, you idio-", her insults are interrupted by the shot of cum being sprayed in her hole, making her shut up for once.

[cyanidas]

🃏 Kokichi Ouma Age-up Timeline 🍇

Here, I've used his initial designs as inspiration! I like looking back at older designs cause for a lot of them, it's like watching them grow up!

Headcanons under cut (HUUUGE SPOILER WARNING FOR DRV3)

(Content Warning for child abuse, mental illness and disorder, self harm, generally dark and unsettling topics ahead)

-=-

First off, I'm firm in my take that Tsumugi was lying about everyone being fictional. There's a lot that doesn't match up, and the local V3 fandom celebrity responsible for the Amalgamate fic has helped me tremendously in solidifying my stance. I think they absolutely do belong to the DR universe, but the memories they get that aren't part of their backstory are completely fabricated.

If there's any additional input on V3 in Raincode, don't let me know because I haven't played yet ;w;

That said, there's many things I, like Kokichi, will refuse to clarify or elaborate on. His character demands mystery, and it would be a trivialization of his writing to just. lay it all out there. I think approaching his writing with the mindset of knowing the whole truth would be to bastardize his integrity and simplify him in a distasteful way - so all my headcanons here will be written and are intended to be seen as broad strokes as opposed to finely tuned detail.

-=-

I like to think of his past as muddy and confusing, even to him. There's not a lot he can remember clearly, and constantly confuses different takes on his memories. To me, it's clear that lying is a huge trauma thing to him - I would assume multiple sources would be responsible, like authority, family, and peers.

He's been lying as a means of survival, with multiple layers of how he feels about it - despite what he says, there's not actually one truth. Multiple truths exist for one single thing, and I think that mindset is something that scares him tremendously - he'd probably say that reality is just a lie you tell yourself, in order to justify trivializing and minimizing both feelings/emotion and trauma.

In his head, there's so much wrong with him that he can't even begin to unravel himself and understand everything that's happened to him, why he does what he does, why he feels what he feels... so on. He feels multiple things that often contradict each other, and he doesn't know how to understand that, so he often switches his justifications to suit whatever narrative he needs to cope.

In general, however, he claims he's just lying. There are in fact, genuine times he does actually lie... but rather than being a true compulsive liar, he is actually a compulsive method actor. He's so empathetic to everything and everyone, that he can easily switch his masking techniques to suit whatever he or others need, and does so involuntarily most of the time, though he does know how to "switch it on" purposefully.

In his earlier ages, he may have suffered from a guardianship similar to what those who have DID had gone through (not me projecting lol /hj). He's been bred and born into tragedy, not unlike Komaeda but absolutely distinct from him in that I do not believe this boy has had any good luck with anything in his life - not family, not friends, not money, nothing. I might even go so far as to assume that, similar to Yasuhiro having an unnaturally high good luck, Kokichi is suffering from unnaturally high bad luck.

I noticed that, on a lot of his designs, he seems to have always had *something* covering at least one of his hands - and even on his final design, though it could just be a design fluke or something weird with perspective I misunderstood, you can see the smallest scrap of fabric underneath his right sleeve that could be seen as another hand/wrist covering. When lined up with the other designs, it could very easily be taken as a wrist bandage - at least by my eyes. So, I (and a lot of others it seems, especially those who identify with him) have taken this to mean he may in fact be self-harming, and has been for a long while. Anyone who hyperfixates on this guy wouldn't be surprised in the slightest if that turned out to be true.

I think that age 11 is probably what Kokichi himself would think of as his 'turning point', just going off of my little chart here; something tremendously awful happened to him, then. To fuel speculation and abide by his character rules, all I'm going to definitively say is... he likely wouldn't even trust doctors with a needle, let alone his life.

So, the hardest year of any modern kid's life... 12 years old. In my family especially, it's the worst year you'll ever face, and my god was that true for me. So I think this year fits him for gaining his... as the creators put it, 'otherworldly' expressive nature. This is the year he completely stops putting effort into trying to understand the truth, and fully embraces the chaos that is his reality. He's fine!!!!!! :)))))

He mellows out around 15, and I like to think of this year as his cringe-fail-iest year to date. This motherfucker would likely be seen in Hot Topic, jamming to MCR, glomping his friends, verbally roleplaying, so forth. His phone signature is a series of kaomojis. Idk if there's a similar equivalent of being a cringe baby weeb for Japanese who are my age, so I'm really just basing this on my own experience of being 15 in 2011. But whatever the equivalent is, he is absolutely it. 15 year old Kokichi is current Kokichi's most embarrassing time ever.

However, it's also likely the age he started his talent's namesake - of becoming the Ultimate Supreme Leader. Which, I choose to believe is, much like Kokichi in general, both true and false. Same for his actual group, DICE. Both is good ;o)

Following his talent, he has a natural command to his voice that feels as though you're forced to hear him speak. No one can really talk over him unless their ability to do so demands it - say for example, Sonia, the SHSL Princess. Due to the nature of their talents, I think Sonia's voice and ability to command would absolutely trump Kokichi's. However, due to the aforementioned bad luck, people are compelled to not trust him - even if what he's saying is true. (Kokichi voice: oh pythia we're really in it now)

Also, you can't really tell because of all the scarring, but 15 and 19 are the ages where he stopped going outside so he's paler and paler, lol

And my last one, I love to imagine that due to his talent, he's actually intensely adept at fighting, especially dodging. In fact, I think he's even way smarter than he'd like to believe!

[quimichi]

TW: obsessive behavior, talk about self harm, death, gore, blood, corpses, choking, talk about you being dead, bleeding, bro there's so much - MDNI

SUMMARY: A twisted boy with a twisted mind and a twisted love just for you ♡

CHARACTERS: Yandere x F!Reader

WORD COUNT: 841

𓉸ྀི  Never EVER was Blake expecting to fall in love. At first sight too. He saw you and was instantly captured. My condolences, because with him in your life...it'll be turned upside down

𓉸ྀི You're his newest, recent hyperfixation, or better, obsession. Recent? Well, since he ever saw and read this short story in the internet, about death, killing, blood and guts, he was forever obsessed with it. Especially the graphic pictures that we're added for the "realism'. You see, one click on a link and a wrong turn can lead you down a dark alley filled with the darkest mysteries hold by internet. Hidden from those who would never dare step that far into an alley like this. Bit inviting and interesting to those curious enough to take a look...and forever be captivated.

𓉸ྀི with 12 year's old, exactly that happened. This weird 'dare' and a link went around school and of course 12 year olds are gonna jump on it like hungry wolves. His friend send him the link, he was dared to open it and take a look, but was to scared. So he send Blake the link also, so they can both take a look. Shared fear is only half the fear, right?

𓉸ྀི While his friend was throwinh up beside his bed, he kept scrolling. And scrolling...and scrolling. Weird...this doesn't affect him, at least not like his friend. Or how he thought it would. Everyone kept saying its gross, creepy and...twisted. Its odd that he, likes it.

𓉸ྀི His friend claimed he suddenly felt sick, so his mother picked him up. None of them wanted to raise suspicion of course...But the whole night long, Blake kept looking at the pictures over and over again, he read the story multiple times. He probably still knows it all word for word till this day. But what really captured his interest was that woman, how she looked in her own blood bath. Her guts hanging out, everywhere but inside her. Is this real? No it can't be right? No one would ever...

𓉸ྀི when he saw you, he saw that woman. You both look so similar. Maybe the eye color is a bit off, yours are a tiny bit darker but thats ok, you look just like her! Damn, even the hair!...he can't help but wonder if you would...no that's an unhealthy thought

𓉸ྀི he's 18 now, and for 5 years he was in the dark web looking for stories, pictures and videos like this to feed his constant hunger and need for more blood and gore. But he still knows, murder is wrong. But knowing is something else than doing. They both can go hand in hand, the only thing that's holding them both away from each other is the wall called self control.

𓉸ྀི He does have this wall, it just has multiple holes in it. Blake was no stranger to act on his impulsive thoughts. He cuts his arms sometimes when he wants to feel the pain or see the blood. He even tried the 'save way of cutting your wrist', the thrill of almost dying did send him over the edge....The research did help of course. He even tried choking himself, but that does not really do much for him unfortunately, there's nothing hot to it besides the bruises he left on his neck.

𓉸ྀི But right now the wall he trained to stand against the army of his running thoughts is about to crumble by just looking at you. You'd look so great in red, a deep dark red surrounding you...oozing out of y-no-! This is wrong-! He knows you're so so much more than a body, than a corpse. You have personality...damn you really look like you have a great personality.

𓉸ྀི...w-wait-you looked his way-! WHY ARE YOU SMILING AT HIM-! Was he looking at you this entire time?? Ugh, hes such a creep-! Yes, he knows he's one but he doesn't have to act like one to make it obvious- He's so weird, he doesn't deserve you, he would NEVER deserve you. The only thing that deserves him would be the maggots and the mould, eating his decomposed cadaver.

𓉸ྀི If it's not him, than it's definitely your smile that killed him right there and now, on spot. He's disgusting why are you looking like him. Why do you show interest. Why is he smiling back. And why does he really feel the need to hold you in his arms, and kiss you. A kiss that would probably be the beginning of cannibalism. Drag his mouth and theeth across your chest to taste your beating heart...if he thinks like this then living can be beautiful, and so are living things. I mean...you are most definitely beautiful. And you're alive.

𓉸ྀི But you'd be just as pretty dead, rotting and overcome with mould, having flys around you while your body drys out and sinks....but yeah you're maybe even a tiny bit more beautiful alive. (Much more but he can't say it just yet)

TAGLIST: @lucienbarkbark @hehothrowawayfae

[danicloth]

It’s cold 🩷🩵…

My delulu is slowly coming back =w=✨

[darth-sonny]

"Box..."

Mikey paused.

The cat's cradle in his hands was unfinished - halfway done - but that didn't matter anymore.

Leo spoke. Spoke for the first time in weeks ever since they brought him back home...

And Mikey was confused as to the meaning of his brother's first words.

"What did you say?" he asked.

Leo raised a heavly bandaged hand - his only hand - and slowly pointed one finger at him. Mikey could see with crystal clear clarity how heavy the way Leo's arm shook, as if the action alone was so physically daunting that it tired him in just a few seconds.

Mikey was ready to gently take Leo's hand and lower it down when his brother spoke again, voice raspy and so, so different than what it had been weeks ago.

"Box."

With his brother's hand pointing at him, Mikey connected the dots.

"I'm... I'm Box?"

Leo nodded. "Box," he repeated again.

Mikey tried to smile, he did, but the way Leo's eye went to look down at the blanket covering him in shame made him realize that his smile was more or less of a grimace.

"Ssso-... orry..."

"It's okay!" Mikey chirped, wincing a bit at how Leo flinched at the loudness. "I'm fine with a new nickname!" He hummed, making a show of thinking the name over. He even scrunched up his beak. "Hmm, Box... Box... I like it! Box! We can add that to the list-"

"Na-... name..."

Mikey blinked. "What?"

Leo leaned forward, his face twisting in pain just a bit as his finger poked Mikey in the middle of his plastron.

"Box... is y-... yeerr... na-name..."

Leo's face then changed to one of confusion.

"Wha-... what's a-a ni-nick... name?"

lots of severe head trauma + deliberately messed with memories + recently getting possessed = amnesia

(mikey is box and raph is brute. the rest of the fam will get theirs once i decided on what they will be)

[edwardwonghaupepelutivrusky4th]

wah i looove their designs and animation...

[coulsonlives]

I just had to share this video because holy shit, it hits the nail right on the head! So well spoken. This stuff needs to be circulated more, esp with the growing number of people thinking they have this because of misinformation, or just outright faking it.