#I know there are worse things going on in the world with multiple places being on literal fire

[ddollipop]

CURB THIS SICKNESS. . . ! — ( SOFT YANDERE!PLAGUE DOCTOR OC X READER. )

#. synopsis! — there's a virus outside that's snuffed out the lights of many. . . and lucian refuses to let you meet such a miserable fate .

#. contains! — f!reader , explicitly nsfw content , multiple orgasms , vaginal fingering , implications of paranoia , cum swallowing , oral sex , cunnilingus , blowjob , vaginal sex , obsessive behavior , frequent usage of endearment terms (love, darling, angel) , missionary position , bathing , established relationship , slight choking , slight hair pulling , creampie , biting .

#. word count! — 5.1k .

#. oc carrd! — click here to find more information on lucian + other original characters of mine that i might write for in the future! xx .

When the virus began to spread in all directions from its alleged location of origin, —you were certain you’d be dead before winter. If not from sickness, then certainly from another disease, or at the hands of some twisted maniac just searching for someone to slaughter that nobody would care enough to miss. You thought it was only a matter of time before you succumbed to hunger or thirst or the changing chill of autumn, or maybe something completely different: but something was bound to happen, and you were sure of it.

And it did. . . But it was nothing like what you had in mind.

Lucian may have seemed like something out of a horror story passed down through generations, still clad in his working attire the night he scooped you up in his arms from a shabby alleyway like a stray kitten, but he was surprisingly gentle (and perhaps unusually quiet.) He wasn’t very talkative, but he cared for you in a way you were completely unaccustomed to, —prepared you a warm meal, brewed you chamomile tea, ran you a hot bath, and gave you a place to sleep for the night. He said you were slightly fevered and a bit malnourished, but all things considered, it could have been worlds worse.

“You’re lucky,” he hummed, a gloved hand smoothing over your jaw, “the pestilence hasn’t taken hold of you.”

Even back then, that wasn’t why you felt lucky. . . No, much to the contrary, you felt lucky because this man had taken you in without expecting anything of you in return, and he sought to keep you safe from the rot of the outside world. Thus, little by little, you stopped caring much about going out there. 

His place is a bit quaint for two, but it’s homey, and it smells perpetually of lavender. Over time, he’s shifted the sleeping arrangements, and now you rest in his arms each night; about as close as one can get to being a lover without having the label.

A part of you is sure you could get it if you asked, but to you, it doesn’t matter much. At the end of each day, he comes home to you, and that’s what counts. You take care of the housework while he’s away (not that there’s ever much to do.) For as odd as he is, his living space is free of most things, —no trinkets unrelated to his work (which you are not keen on touching), and he’s meticulous about picking up after himself and keeping all his items in order, so your unofficial duties are few and far between. Otherwise, the rest boils down to cooking meals, washing clothes, and keeping yourself entertained while he’s away. . . Like some kind of glorified trophy wife.

And sure, this will probably get old eventually, but for now, this is what you’re working with. He likes to have you close and to know where you are, —to know that you’re safe and not out getting infected by anyone or anything. If you’re at his home, you’re safe from all the filth of the outside world, and heaven knows it’s so nice to come home and lie next to a body so utterly unmarred by the grime of society.

You’re sure once the virus has stilled, he’ll ease up.

But tonight is not that night. Lucian all but stumbles through the door, and you can hear his rapid breathing through the long, beak-like shape of his mask. He seems startled and frantic, and you rush over, a concerned expression crossing your features.

“Lucian? Are you alright?” You ask, reaching out to put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

In an instant, he snatches your wrist and grabs for the other, holding one in either hand. His grip is fervent, but far from painful, and you become more confused the longer he goes without explaining the state he’s found himself in.

“Lucian—”

“Darling,” he cuts you off, “you mustn’t get near the door.”

“Okay,” you nod in compliance, “but why?”

“The pestilence has taken hold of this city,” he replies. “The air out there, you wouldn’t believe the thickness of that putrid aroma. It’s suffocating.”

Before you can ask if there’s something you can do to quench his worries, he tugs you away from the entrance and into the bathroom. He removes his gloves and sets them aside, reaching down to begin running a warm bath. Then he looks to you, almost expectantly.

“Strip, please,” he encourages, —saying it like he’s desperate for the act, albeit not necessarily under the context you’d prefer of him.

“Lucian—”

“Darling,” he hisses, “please, do as I ask of you.”

His bare hands cup your cheeks.

“Please,” he repeats.

It’s hard to deny him when he asks like that and has been so good to you, and it’s not as if he’s asking for a lot. He’s just having a bad night, and if scrubbing yourself down will help ease his mind a bit, you’re willing to put in that sliver of extra effort for his sake.

Lucian sighs in relief as you begin to disrobe.

“Thank you,” he comments. “I really don’t have a clue what I’d do if you fell ill. . . I don’t think my heart could handle such a thing.”

You slip the last of your clothing off and step gingerly into the filling tub. It’s not long enough to stretch out in, so you bunch yourself up neatly to fit the space and look up at him once more.

“I feel fine,” you assure.

“I’m glad,” he replies. “Even so, it’s much better to air on the side of caution. The human body is a dangerously fickle thing, and it can be incredibly fragile. I’ve seen as much firsthand more times than I can count. In its infancy, this virus is little more than a common cold, but progresses into something fatal at a rapid pace.”

You simply nod as he kneels next to the tub, rolling his sleeves up.

“Your breathing is ragged, Lucian,” you state, “you should take that mask off and get some fresh air.”

“After,” he answers quickly.

He reaches for the half-used lavender soap bar and lathers it on his palms, then reaches out to smooth the suds over your arms and neck. His motions are a little rough and all too urgent. This is far from the first time he’s accompanied you for a bath, but it is the first time he’s ever done so and been this aggressive in his approach (if only as a result of his own anxiety.)

For the time being, he seems to avoid your breasts, instead reaching for one of your legs to hike it up out of the water. He repeats this process with the other, cleaning you until he seems satisfied. When he makes no move to revisit your chest, you take the soap from his hand and lather it yourself, placing it in its previous spot before leaning back slightly and allowing your hands to travel where you’d have liked for his to go.

Lucian watches but doesn’t touch. Your fingertips nudge at your nipples, feeling them harden under the minstrations, your bottom lip slipping between your teeth. If nothing else, he should be getting the hint by now.

Surprisingly, you’ve never had sex with him in all the months you’ve spent curled up in his arms, sleeping in his bed. He’s watched you take care of yourself on a number of occasions, has helped with his fingers another few times, —and allowed you to wrap your hand around him once a few weeks prior; but anything beyond that has seemed to be off limits. You’ve chalked it up to his shyness, or perhaps his distaste for human contact as a result of the pestilence; but tonight feels distinctly different.

Even in his previous state of frazzlement, Lucian seems all too content to sit back and watch you fondle your own breasts, soapy fingers clutching and releasing in tandem. You’ve always liked for him to watch you do things like this. Though his mask obscures the view of his face, you just know his eyes are trained on you, soaking up every movement, and you like to think he’s drooling at the way you grope yourself for his enjoyment (and for your own.)

“Lucian?” You prompt, half-lidded eyes glancing over to him.

His shoulders straighten as you say his name.

“You’re very beautiful,” he says, words almost too muffled by the mask to be made out.

“You think so?” You smirk a bit.

“I do.”

Ah, but that’s nothing new, and it’s nothing he hasn’t shared with you before. On the very night he took you in and washed your hair, he smoothed his gloved hands against your scalp and mumbled about how pretty you looked, even with dirt still caked on your skin. Even covered in filth from the alleyways you’d been sleeping in, he thought you were nothing less than stunning, —a real vision to behold, and he’s never skimped on such compliments.

You pause for a moment, reaching out to grasp for his hands. He allows the gesture, though he seems a bit confused, leaning in closer to the rim of the tub as you position him to your liking.

“Do you think I feel feverish?” You inquire, placing one of his hands on your neck and another on one of your breasts.

He makes no move to pull away, firming his grip up almost instantaneously, as if he’s been itching to feel you this way.

“Perhaps a bit warm,” he mumbles, taking a moment to roll your nipple between two nimble fingers, “but body temperature is known to rise during times of. . .” he trails off, clears his throat, then utters: “arousal.”

You trail your nails down his arm, letting your head tip back again. His hands are a bit calloused, but they feel so good against your skin, and you let a few moans slip past your lips. It’s not often he touches you like this without his gloves on, but the flesh-on-flesh contact is electrifying.

“Not to worry you, but I do feel a bit strange,” you huff slightly.

Through the slightly tinted bath water, Lucian can still watch your hand as it travels between your thighs.

“I’m just a throbbing mess,” you hum, giving him a pointed stare; “but you’ll take care of me. . . Right, Doctor?”

It may just be your imagination, but you could swear you heard his breathing shudder at that request. You’ve never been this forward with him, but something apart from the facial expression that’s still hidden away tells you that he likes where this is going. His fingers clamp down on the column of your throat, squeezing just enough to make taking in air a bit more of a struggle, but not anywhere near hard enough to be fatal.

The bit about being a throbbing mess was by no means an exaggeration on your part, so you take matters into your own fingers for the time being, drawing circles on your clit beneath the water.

“Of course,” he finally finds the voice to agree, “—I’d do anything to keep you from feeling unwell.”

That is what you like to hear.

“Anything?”

“Anything.” 

His grip tightens on your throat again, for emphasis, and with that, he seems to come slightly undone.

“Darling, that’s why I’ve demanded you stay here in my home, —our home. It’s safe here, free of contaminants and filth and anything that could cause you harm,” he says, the words spilling out like he’s been holding them back since he first set his sights on you.

“The world outside is ill, not just this rotten city. I’m working tirelessly to combat this pestilence, but as things stand now, the safest place you can be is here. With me. You understand that, my love. . . Don’t you?”

You’re only half listening, but you nod in agreement anyway. Whatever he’s saying, you trust his opinion on the matter.

“Of course,” you gasp, almost slipping a finger inside yourself to the tune of his melodic voice.

“I knew you would,” he continues, loosening the grip on your neck again. “You know I only want what’s best for you, that everything I do is to ensure your safety, —to eliminate the possibility of you ever falling sick.”

“Of course,” you repeat, head growing cloudier by the minute. “You’ve always taken such good care of me, right from the very beginning.”

God, he’s so elated that you’re seeing things his way. The way this makes him feel is almost too much to handle.

“I try so hard, darling, I truly do,” he says, both hands coming up to cup your cheeks.

“Please, Lucian,” you mumble desperately, “I need you tonight.”

He complies, shedding his long coat and draping it over your shoulders once you’ve stepped out of the tub. The chill of the air against your wet skin leaves your nipples hard and sensitive, and as he leads you to the bedroom, you hope he realizes just what it is you’re asking for. His fingers are a plentiful start, and you just know they’ll feel so good stuffed inside you, curling to hit all the right places, —but they’re nothing compared to the cock he’s stingily hidden away for all this time.

Tonight, you want him in all his glory in the glow of the lanterns on the walls. You want to strip him bare and gag on the length between his thighs, feel him twitch against the roof of your mouth, tease every vein that runs up his shaft. It’s not enough to grind against him while you’re half asleep or hump his clothed thigh until you’ve left his pants damp and your pussy sopping, just begging to be fucked by this man who might just love you more than he could ever fear any virus that lurks outside these walls.

“Don’t fret,” he tells you, though it sounds more like a command than a gesture to soothe any worries, “just lie back. I’ll be sure to give you. . . A proper examination.”

You could cum just hearing that.

With half your body pressed against the headboard and his coat nearly slipping off your body completely, he sets to work in his underclothes and mask. It’s by no means an uncommon sight, but there’s something distinct about him this late evening; the way his black attire contrasts so beautifully with the stark paleness of his skin and the mystery it shrouds him in that you’re just dying to sink your teeth into. Everything hidden beneath that cautious wardrobe and that long mask. . . You’ve gotta have it. It’s a necessity.

His fingers, ungloved, begin softly with your calves, tracing senseless lines.

“I’m not so fragile,” you remind him.

For as oblivious as he can be, Lucian takes the hint, and by the time he’s reached your thighs, he’s content to give them the same treatment as your throat.

The way he splits you apart is almost painfully clinical, a thumb on either side of your lips, peering through the eye holes of his mask to admire the way your folds glisten in the orange lantern light. A few prodding strokes leave you biting your lip again, body waning in anticipation for the moment he finally turns his hand over and sinks the longest of his fingers inside you, —slowly, but deliberately. It’s impossible to see his expression, but you hope his mouth hangs open a little at the way your cunt suckles on his finger, encouraging him to prod more and maybe stuff another few inside for you to grind against.

There’s something about the warmth of his fingers that gets you off almost in equal amounts to the way he moves. Another finger inside, and you whine, halfway to an orgasm from this alone.

He’s not particulary rough in his execution, but there’s a clean meticulousness in every movement that leaves every cell in your body craving more, begging for anything he can offer. Months upon months of wanting, of dropping hints, of hoping he’d catch on and finally see things your way, —and at last, you’ve made it. And now that you’re here, you’re content to simply lie still and let him have his way with you.

“Please don’t stop,” you beg, nearly choking on the words when the tips of his fingers brush just the right spot.

“Before you’re satisfied?” He sits forward a bit, resting his free hand on your stomach to press you down onto the bed. “Darling, I couldn’t fathom it.”

You will your upper body forward, grabbing for the hand on your stomach to move it up to your throat. He squeezes, scissoring the fingers inside you, watching closely as your body shakes and your eyes roll back a bit in ecstasy.

“I’ve tried,” he says to you suddenly. “I’ve tried so desperately to be gentle with you.”

You smile.

“I appreciate that,” you answer. “But I don’t want you to be gentle at the moment.”

“That’s a dangerous request, my love,” he warns.

God, you hope so.

You reach forward and grab at the beak of his mask, pulling it upward gently until it begins to slip off and reveal the handsome face underneath. Dark hair, dark eyes, but skin almost pale enough to be sickly, you meet his gaze just long enough to ask for permission, then lean in to kiss him on the mouth. It’s the first time, and it’s electric. He’s avoided this for months, —avoided your mouth, your unspoken pleas, all the passes you made for the sake of keeping himself at bay. But here you are now with two of his fingers stuffed inside you, his hand on your throat, and your lips slotted against his own.

“Please,” you murmur, fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt.

And you can feel the restraints of his mind come unwound.

He’s no longer gentle in the way he fucks you silly with his fingers, hammering them over and over and over again into that delicious spot buried deep inside you, squeezing your throat hard enough to cut your breathing off. The way your pussy spasms as you cum is blissful, and he loves the way your arousal soaks his digits, loves the way your back arches, soundless moans spilling forth as he makes you orgasm.

“I fucking tried,” he says again.

It’s almost manic, so desperate and sort of pathetic in the kind of way that turns you on. This is the first time you’ve ever heard him curse, and it dawns on you that even the filthiest of words sound so unendingly elegant when they’re spoken by Lucian.

“I tried to be gentle. I tried to keep you safe here, —to shelter you from whatever forsaken wasteland remains out there,” he insists, his fingers still buried in your twitching cunt. “I just wanted to protect you.”

He lightens the grip on your throat as you lean in to kiss him again, cupping his face in your hands.

“You have,” you assure him.

“You take such good care of me, Lucian,” you mumble into his ear. “Let me show you how grateful I am.”

The fingers stuffed inside you slowly slip out, and reach for his hand, guiding them to your lips, taking his digits into your mouth to taste yourself on them. He watches with hunger and interest as you clean him with your tongue. He leans in to kiss you to get a taste of it himself, grasping your hair near the scalp and taking a fistful hard enough to make you gasp.

“I can’t let you leave,” he murmurs. “It’s not safe out there. When this pestilence has been subdued, I’ll do this all correctly. We can start from the beginning, and I’ll be a gentleman.”

“I look forward to it,” you answer softly.

“You’ll stay until then?” He inquires.

He’s clearly overreacting, but it’s hard to care when you just want him inside you. Lucian has seen death day in and day out, —so it’s no wonder it feels like it permeates everything around him. He just doesn’t want you to suffer such a fate, and you’re confident that you won’t, as long as he’s yours.

“Of course I will,” you answer.

It’s like something primal takes over. Suddenly his lips are on yours in a bruising kiss, and his hands are grasping roughly at your breasts, pushing you down onto the bed as he crawls between your legs. He pauses, hovering just above your dripping cunt, turning his head to sink his teeth into the meat of your thigh. It makes you squeal a bit, and he kisses the teethmarks he left behind as if in apology.

You can’t help but wonder how long he’s been yearning for this. It’s like every part of him is thrumming from the thrill of it all, and this man who has previously refused to even kiss you on the mouth is now stationed exactly where you want him, tongue lolling out to lick a solid stripe up your folds. He laps like a man starved, then spreads you apart with his thumbs to suck your clit mercilessly.

It’s good enough to make your vision go blurry, and you can’t seem to form proper words through the haze. Desperately, your fingers claw at the sheets of this mattress, and he moans against your hot cunt, sending a vibration rippling through your core that makes your back arch on instinct. You mumble something that comes out like gibberish, pussy convulsing against the flat of his tongue.

His arm comes round to press your hips down, forcing you to be still. It’s the kind of toruture you’re sure you’ll learn to live for. There’s only so much you can wriggle under his arm, which has a surprising amount of force despite his rather lanky stature.

From what little friction you manage as you attempt to grind against his tongue, you tip yourself over the edge and as the knot in your stomach unties for the second time tonight, he continues licking, lapping at the juices that spill forth.

He stands and reaches for the top button of his shirt, not bothering to wipe his face, chin and lips glistening with your aftermath. You watch him undress with lustful eyes, propping yourself up on your elbow, then slinking back against the headboard once again, resting your weary body against it. The quiver of your thighs doesn’t stop you from nudging at your swollen clit.

“I wanted to be a gentleman,” he comments, untucking the shirt from his pants and pulling the front open.

It’s not skin you haven’t seen before. In fact, you’ve seen every inch of him at one point or another; just never all at once, and now, you’re waiting with bated breath to see him completely exposed for your eyes only.

“I truly did. I wanted to give you comfort and security, —to love you as you deserve. And I knew from the moment I saw you that only I could give you exactly what you’ve always needed.”

You hum in acknowledgement as he continues to strip himself bare.

“But it’s so clear to me now that I’ve neglected you,” he continues. “This beautifully desperate display is all a result of my negligence. . . I failed to realize just how much you needed me like this. How much you needed the touch of a man. . .”

He sounds apologetic, but your eyes are fixated on his half-hard cock. The last time you saw it, he asked that you keep your mouth away; insisting it wasn’t sanitary to use it for such purposes, terrified that you might contract some sort of illness if you sucked his dick for the sheer enjoyment of doing so. This time, however, you have a feeling you’re well past that.

To test the waters, you let your hand fall away from your cunt, slipping off the side of the bed to kneel before him. He gazes down at you as you open your lips and let your tongue fall out, encouraging him to make what he will of it.

“My love,” he says, placing four fingers under your chin to rest his thumb against your tongue for a moment, “—I’ll make everything up to you. . .”

His free hand pumps his cock once, twice, thrice, —then he places it gently on the flat of your tongue, letting you feel the weight and the warmth of it. He sighs.

“Darling,” he groans, “ah. . .”

It takes very little for him to come close to cumming in your mouth, just a few minutes of sucking him off, listening to him moan, feeling him quiver at your touch. You hum with his member stuffed down your throat, and he cants his hips reflexively, an orgasm bubbling up beneath his skin.

Your non-dominant hand holds his cock steady while the other is stuck between your thighs, rubbing furiously at your clit, making you whimper along his shaft. When he notices, Lucian finds that wholly unacceptable and snatches you up to position you on the edge of the bed, relieving the pressure on your aching knees. You weren’t down there for long, but kneeling was hardly comfortable on the hard floor.

He spreads your thighs apart and smacks the pads of his fingers against your slit.

Whatever he’s doing, you’re sure you’ll enjoy it to the fullest, so you occupy yourself with his cock again from this new angle, bending awkwardly to mouth at the reddened tip. His fingers find their way inside you once more, working their delicate magic, brushing against all the right places. At this point, you’re more desperate for his dick to slip inside you like this, but you take what he offers in stride (and more of him into your mouth in the process.)

He’s vocal, and that’s utterly divine. His gravely moans and the pump of his fingers leave you cumming for a third time before his first orgasm arises, depositing a sizable amount of his seed into your mouth.

“I love you,” he huffs, —and if he were anyone else, you’d be certain it was just the oral sex talking, but no. . . Lucian wouldn’t have said it if he didn’t mean it.

Of course, he’s made similar confessions over the months, and has certainly treated you like it long before he ever expressed it so directly, but still. . . It feels nice to hear it, if nothing else.

“I love you too,” you answer honestly, urging him closer with your arms wrapped around his neck. “I’m yours tonight, completely. . . If you’ll have me. . .”

“Oh, darling, don’t be foolish,” he remarks, kissing you deeply. “You’ve been mine since the moment we met.”

Your back to the cool sheets, he lingers over you now, his shadow looming over you so monstrously. There’s a stark flush of red on his face that has begun to spread down the length of his neck, and one of his hands finds its way to your breasts as the other smoothes across your thigh. The head of his cock kisses your sopping entrance, sending a series of chills from the top of your spine to the bottom.

His breath on your neck makes your chest tighten, and he finds your lips with his own again as he sinks inside you, filling you up.

“Lucian,” you whimper, helpless to his touch as he pauses, buried down to the hilt inside your cunt.

He presses a few gentle kisses to your throat, murmuring something about how nice it feels to be stuffed inside you. He feels your nails dig into his shoulders as you adjust to his intrusion.

“You must understand by now,” he says, mumbling the words right next to your bitten earlobe. “Everything I do is for you.”

“I do,” you gasp slightly. 

As he begins to move, your walls clench around him, and he exhales deeply against the junction of your neck and shoulder. You roll your hips to match his pace, but as he goes faster, that becomes fruitless. Eventually, you resign yourself to the fate of lying there against the pillows, speared on his cock, him making a mess of you as you moan uncontrollably.

This was everything you’d been hoping for and then some, like some erotic dream come to life. Lucian’s lips travel where they please, —stopping to peck at your jaw, then to suck on your throat. Your breathing is haggard, and he smooths a hand down your side, resting it against your hip for a moment.

“Just a little more,” he whispers, as if to be reassuring.

“Just look how stunning you are, angel,” he murmurs, “how pretty you look like this.”

He kisses you once more.

“You take this so well, like your body was made for me.”

You’re delirious enough to believe that might be the case.

His cock pounds a little harder, and he hits the perfect spot, tearing a desperate yelp from your throat. You’re overstimulated and weak, but your high is itching just under your skin, and you couldn’t bear to see it disappear.

“Please,” you whimper to him, completely at his mercy, “—please, I’m so close.”

He loves the desperation that clings to your voice. The hand on your hip travels to your clit, pressing roughly against the abused little button, making you jerk slightly. He rubs a few heavy circles against it, and you come undone, cunt spasming around his cock as he chases his own release inside you.

Lucian is sloppy near the end, which may just be the only time you’ve ever known him to not be perfectly calculated and precise. His breath hits your neck again, over and over as he huffs through the hunt, finally sinking his teeth in when he comes to a finish. His cum sits hot inside your cunt, and he catches his breath for a moment, head resting against your throat.

“I apologize,” he utters. “I hope that wasn’t too much for you.”

You exhale slowly, his cock still buried in your heat.

“Don’t apologize,” you murmur, “I enjoyed myself.”

You feel him smile against your neck.

“I’m glad, darling.”

For the first time, he sleeps next to you without clothing, letting you touch every part of him, tangling your limbs together. Your face buried in the crook of his neck, breath fanning softly against him, as close to sleep as you can manage without tumbling over the precipice, Lucian reaches for his long coat and drapes it over your body, holding you closer.

[yanaromanov]

fuck me, i’m famous

｡ﾟ*. 18+, minors DNI . * ｡ﾟ･

paring: rockstar!natasha romanoff x reader

summary: when your boyfriend drags you along to a rock concert of a band you barely know, and then ceremoniously dumps you to go out with his friends after, it feels like your night can’t get any worse. thankfully, the guitarist of the band seems to take a particular interest in you and offers you an alternative offer on how to spend your night that seems just too good to refuse.

warning(s): cheating (r has a bf), but he’s a shitty bf, oc male character, band jargon that may or may not be correct, alcohol consumption, copious amounts of flirting, slight mention of crystals, swearing, many pet names, first time with a woman, smut, fingering, thigh riding, masturbation, scissoring, multiple orgasms, hickeys, natasha talking you through things, lots of praise, slight degradation (?), minors dni.

authors note: okay i feel like this is kinda bad and messy but i also spent too much time on it not to post. i’m still getting used to writing smut and haven’t wrote anything like this before so i hope it’s okay 😭😭 the end is also rushed so plz just ignore that :))

wc: 12.2K words

You've seen enough books and movies to know how things are supposed to go. How that perfect moment comes, when the pieces fall into place and you suddenly realize this is what you're meant to do, what you've always meant to do. But you've also lived a life long enough to know it never actually happens. In truth, it's all a bunch of bullshit.

There's never such thing as love at first sight, no moment where the world freezes on everyone except you and music plays in slow motion in the background, your eyes falling on that one person through the crowd that you just know your heart only beats for. In real life, the cards just don't fall like that. There's too many shitty people and grievous circumstances for the true movie dream to ever be lived, forever just a piece of fiction one can only fantasize of.

You know all this, understand it to be true. And yet, one hot Summer night, it feels like it all melts away and that fairy tale veil falls down right in front of your very own eyes.

It's not slow when it happens, not like in the movies. It's fast and loud and hot and sweaty. The music around you blares into your ears, bodies beside you screaming out lyrics you barely know. In the crowded space, you at least try to have a good time, try to mimic your boyfriend's energy as he dances and sings beside you, but you know its all futile. You want to leave. Truly, never wanted to come in the first place, but had done for him, for all his pleas and begs. You'll love it, I promise. Please come, baby, please.

The lights are hurting your eyes, the fog burning at your irises. Everyone is far too close to you, strangers pressing up against your sides from the front row section your boyfriend, Tyler, had demanded you needed. You don't feel it right all the back there. You need to be close to feel it in your bones. You feel a little sick.

And then that's when it happens. Body jostling against the side of the raised stage, ears ringing from being far too close to the speakers, that's when your own movie moment finally crashes into you. It's quick, so quick you don't even take notice till a few seconds after it happens. As your eyes raise to the band playing in front of you, they graze over each of the members. The brunette hugging the microphone center stage; the other behind hammering into a black drum set; the tall blonde whose fingers dance over the fretboard of a blue bass; and then finally, the woman playing an electric guitar stage right the same color as her fiery red hair. When you meet her eye it's like one of those moments back in high school, when you're accidentally caught making eye contact with someone across the class. But this time, unlike any time with your classmates, the redhead doesn't screw her face up, passing you a dirty look. What the fuck are you looking at? Instead, she winks.

Seconds later her gaze is gone, returned to the vibrating audience, and it takes you just about as much time to even acknowledge what had just happened. It seems fake, like a miscommunication in the space of a blink. Surely you must be imagining things, the heat in the room finally getting to you. But no, you're so sure of it. So set on what you've seen. A few moments later, it's like it's confirmed. The redhead's sights turn back on you, looking down into the pit of bodies where you stand. This time she holds, her eyes trained to yours as she continues to pluck the strings of her guitar. A small smirk stretches across painted lips, teeth plunging down into plump flesh. The music doesn't slow like it does in the movies. In fact, it seems almost louder than ever as you hold contact with the redhead's playful gaze. And when she winks again, chin jutting in your direction, you know it's you she's looking at.

You feel a little too seen, and not so much in a good way. You don't feel that special moment you read about in books, the time you are the chosen one across the sea of other bodies, a spark lighting in your heart at the romanticism of it all. It actually only drives one question in to your head; why the fuck is she looking at me?

You duck your eyes away, looking to the floor and the scuffed boots on your feet. There's a half-full cup of water a few inches in front of you. You watch as dancing feet almost collide with it, surely only seconds a way from being spilled. It holds your attention for a long time, so long your boyfriend is grasping at your cheek to check you're alright. You smile the way you always seem to do. Lips painting a picture of 'yes, I'm fine', while your brain screams out in contradicting protest. How much longer till this thing is done? My fucking head hurts.

When the final song does eventually roll around, you're too lost in your own thoughts to even care. The redhead guitarist has made eye contact with you three more times since you'd first noticed. If there was any doubt you had she wasn't seeking you out, it was surely dissipated now. Each time your eyeline had actually raised to the stage in front of you, it was like the woman's eyes were already waiting for you.

Trying to hold back the dizziness from gazing down at the floor, you had tried to remember the redhead's name. In no offence to the band, or their adoring fans lined up behind you, you actually didn't know of them much at all. Sure, you've heard their songs blasted through your boyfriend's speakers, saw their faces on cassettes and cd's dumped around your apartment, but you've never truly been a follower of the band Crimson Coven. You try to rack your brain of the knowledge you have, of every rant your boyfriend has been on that you so casually zone out from. The lead singer's name is Wanda, you know that much. She seems to be his favourite from the amount of things you've heard him rattle on. She's never even taken singing lessons. She's actually European, isn't that sick? Did you know she has a twin brother? You should do your makeup like her, babe.

The redhead has you thrown for a loop though. There are two names swimming in your head, though you're pretty sure the drummer is the one named Maria and Carol doesn't seem to fit the guitarist stood on the right. For the life of you it seems you can't draw the name from your head. It stays that way until the concert is finishing, stood watching the four women walking off stage, screaming out "thank you's" and collecting thrown objects on to the small stage, all the while you notice a certain member's eyes still trained on you. You simply turn away and grab on to Tyler’s hand, letting him guide you out of the dissipating crowd. God, you can't wait to get home.

The line to the bathroom is a slight roadblock in your plan. It's not torturously long by any means, but it still has you stood outside pressing your thighs together as you try desperately to hold in the three cans of beer you'd drank before the gig had began. You're regretting that decision now as the line filters slowly into the venue's singular women's bathroom. Seriously, what the fuck is up with that? If it weren't for the half hour journey you had back to your place, you would have considered just holding it, but if the pain in your stomach were any indication, you weren't going to make it that far.

When it's finally your turn, you all but run into the cubicle. It's quieter in there, a barricade between the groups of people who’ve chosen to stay to socialize in the venue's lounge and bar area. The stall is not only a relief for your full bladder, but also your pounding head. You stay in there longer than what's needed, most likely angering the girls waiting outside, but you just can't help it. It's cool and quiet and a desperate contrast to the overstimulating room you'd just spent the last two hours in. After washing your hands, you take the time to check up on your makeup, licking the tip of your finger to fix the slightly smudged liner of your eyes. All in all, you're pretty intact considering the circumstances. A pleasing picture that will soon be washed away as you head home for a night of constant reiterations of the concert you'd just experienced.

You're almost rolling your eyes already at the thought, so easily predicting your boyfriend's behavior for the next several hours. It's this state of disapproval that blinds you as you open the door to the bathroom, not noticing the taller woman standing there before she's backing you up into the stall.

You stumble slightly as the presence walks towards you, your eyes adjusting to the other person who has suddenly joined you in the room. For a moment their back is turned, locking the door to the stall before their face is revealed to you. You curse a little under your breath when you recognise the features.

"There you are. God, do you know hard it was to track you down? Slipped right in here before I could get to ya."

The redhead in front of you breathes out her words, smiling down at you in a way that flips your stomach. It's in that moments everything truly comes crashing down. Every doubt you had, every belief that things like this don't happen in real life is swept away as the famous guitarist stands in front of you. It really was you she was looking at from the stage and now she'd tracked you down. Pinned you into a bathroom stall as she looks down on your figure with her eyes wide, almost drunk. "Uhm, hi?" Is all you manage to say, the entirety of the situation still comprehending itself in your mind.

The redhead in front of you smirks widely as she responds. "Hi." It's then that it hits you, the name you couldn't pinpoint earlier. Natasha. Natasha Romanoff. Lead guitarist of Crimson Coven. You're trying to remember anything Tyler might have said about her when she takes another step in your direction.

"Wow," she breathes, almost to herself. "You're even prettier up close." Her eyes seem to trace over your whole figure, her tongue playing with the inside of her cheek. "Fuck, you're gorgeous."

"Uhm...thank you?" you stutter back, not entirely sure of how you're supposed to act in this situation. You're still trying to get over the shock of her pushing you back into the bathroom before you'd tried to leave. Not sure what else to do, your own eyes trail over the star stood ahead of you. She's still wearing her outfit from her performance; an old looking graphic tee tucked into a pair of black denim shorts. The boots on her feet have silver embellishments that match perfectly with the necklaces around her neck and many rings adorning her fingers. Her lips are painted a shade of faded red that both contrasts and yet somehow works perfectly with her hair, curled and messy around her shoulders. As you look over her, the thought of why your boyfriend may just like her band so much crosses your mind. She really was hot as shit.

But despite her looks, there's still an anxiety bubbling in your chest at this situation. It’s probably not often people could get this close to the star, let alone be held up in a room alone with her. Yet your ears are still ringing and the only true wish crossing your mind's eye is your bed. So, disappointing every girl who'd rather be in your place, you simply clear your throat as you gesture mindlessly to the door behind her. "I think there's people waiting outside to use this cubicle."

The rockstar cocks her head, smirking back. "Oh yeah?" She shrugs, only briefly glancing over her shoulder at the closed bathroom door. "I'm sure they'd be fine waiting. Didn't mind letting me cut through the line." When she smiles back at you, you assume the look in her eye is a mirror of how a predator looks at its prey. You find your lip between your teeth as you look back, very aware of just how much time you'd already spent in this bathroom and how there was a lot of people stood outside who would be becoming increasingly more annoyed at the occupied status, rockstar be damned. Though her attitude remains relaxed, the redhead in front of you seems to pick up on your hesitation because she lets out a low sigh. "Look, if you're really that bothered why don't don't we leave and your pretty ass can join me backstage?"

She takes another step towards you, eyes darkening a they take in your figure. You swallow the saliva in your mouth in an attempt to cool the burn in your stomach. "Sorry-I um-I have a boyfriend," you manage to stutter out, taken aback by her advances. She definitely was hitting on you, that much was clear now, but you knew that Tyler would be waiting for you somewhere, most likely wondering why the fuck you were taking so long to pee.

When your words ring out, its like the redhead's brain short circuits. She almost freezes, only her brows moving to pull into a deep frown. "Shit," she murmurs. "Really?"

You nod in response, fingers playing with the back of your shirt. "Yeah." The redhead looks awfully confused, her gaze trailing over you as if there's something she's missed. When her eyes meet yours once more, its like your answer is a complete mystery to her, like there's something she saw you must have missed in your own reflection. You try to brush it off, not delving into whatever thoughts must be running through the star's head. Instead you just clear your throat again, pointing to the door. "He's um- probably waiting for me."

A tight smile passes across your lips as you slowly move towards the door. The redhead lets you go, ever so slightly brushing past her arm without another word said. You reach for the handle of the door, turning it open before leaving the rockstar behind to wallow in whatever confusion or disappointment runs through her head. You just want to find Tyler and get the hell out of there.

When you finally emerge from the bathroom stall, it feels even warmer than it had before. Though now you're not entirely sure if it's just the air, or also the blood you can feel coursing through your cheeks. You try your best to brush it off, looking around the space to try and locate wherever your boyfriend might have wondered off to. Walking past the line of remaining girls, you have to try ignore their passing stares. Most are likely from your extended use of the bathroom, holding them up even further, but you can't help but feel at least a few are thinking about whatever happened between you and Natasha in that stall and why on earth you had the nerve to leave such an opportunity unfulfilled.

Trying to leave the entire interaction behind, you move to the main area of the venue lounge to try find your boyfriend so you can finally head home. It takes you a good few minutes of searching through the crowds before you spy him across the way, stood talking with all of his friends that he'd brought along to the concert.

"Tyler," you call, passing through bodies to get to him. When he doesn't seem to hear you, you shout again. "Tyler!"

Finally, he turns around, a look of recognition passing over his face as you appear by his side. "Oh there you are, babe," he says. "Where the hell did you go?"

"I was just-I was peeing," you reply, looking around sheepishly at the group of men all staring down at you. It wasn't that you didn't like Tyler's friends per se, it was more so they just weren't your type of people. Most times they’re around, you manage to skilfully skirt around them until a time when they've all gone back home.

Tyler scoffs a little at your comment. "You were gone for like half an hour." He laughs, gesturing to the group as they all join in.

"Yeah. Um-the line was long," you say, trying to avoid the annoyance creeping up your spine as well as skirt around the encounter you'd had just moments ago. Partially because you were still trying to wrap your head around it but also because you didn't want to hear whatever he had to say about what happened. Instead, you just let out a small sigh. "Can we just go home now?"

"Oh actually," Tyler starts. "We were thinking of hitting up a few bars before we went home."

The words hit you like a blast of hot air, unable to deny the feeling of annoyance brewing under your skin. Still, you try to remain sweet in hopes he'll seek pity on you. "Tyler, please," you reply. "I'm tired, can't we just-"

"You don't have to come."

He cuts you off quickly, halting the words in your throat. The attitude you can hear in his voice almost immediately breaks the facade of kindness you were putting on. "Excuse me?"

Tyler shrugs, having the nerve to look annoyed, like you're the one being unreasonable here. "Just call a cab home. You'll be fine." And with that it seems he's had enough of the conversation, turning his shoulders away as he beckons his group to follow.

"No, Tyler wait," you try, but he continues to move away. The only thing you receive is him quickly turning over his shoulder, calling out a goodbye as he promises to see you later.

"Tyler!" You yell but it's futile, the image of your boyfriend already swallowed up by the crowd. "Fuck."

For the second time tonight it feels like you have no idea how to react. You swivel around on the spot, like a lost kid in a grocery store. Some part of you can't believe he would just leave you like that, but then the other part understands it's him all over. Stupid selfish prick.

Far past being annoyed at the night's events, you reach for the phone buried in your jacket pocket, determined to just do as you were told and order a cab home. When the screen returns to you black, the only image your own reflection staring back at you even as you press the power button repeatedly, a long string of curses escape your lips. Stupid fucking phones and their stupid ass batteries. And of course tonight had to be the night you had forgone your charger, leaving you with just a useless weight of metal that you slip back into your pocket. Just my fucking luck.

For a moment, you're stuck on what to do, how to find a way home, but then your eyes fall on the bar across the room. You make your way through the crowd, squeezing past people and mumbling half-assed 'sorry's' and 'excuse me's' until you eventually reach the bar. When you do, the bartender walks over to you, a small smile appearing on his face. "Hi, what can I get for you?"

"Actually, I was just wondering if you could call me a cab?" you reply, raising your voice to be heard over the venue's loud music.

The bartender furrows his brow. "What?"

"A cab," you repeat, leaning in further to his ear. "Can you call me a cab, please? My phone is dead."

"Oh, I can't sorry," he responds, shrugging his shoulders. "Phone is broken."

"What? Can't you use your mobile or-"

"Not while I'm on shift."

He shrugs again. You scoff.

"Please. I really need to get home."

"Sorry," the bartender responds finally, turning away to move towards another customer down the bar.

You watch him go, scowling. When he starts to talk to someone else, asking for their order, another waterfall of curses fall from your tongue. How the fuck were you supposed to get home now?

"Hey gorgeous."

The voice all but pulls you from your thoughts and to the right, dragging you away from the harsh stare you were given the unhelpful bartender. When your eyes fall to the person who had sidled up beside you, a small sigh slips out, your eyes rolling in their sockets.

"Wow," the redhead responds, easily picking up on your bad attitude. She holds her hands up. "Sorry to offend."

You look back at the rockstar, at Natasha. It seems she's found you again in a moment where you want nothing more than to find a way out of there. Though despite your frustration, you know it's not her fault, that she isn't the one controlling the universe so adamant on your downfall tonight. So, you force yourself to soften your expression as you turn back to her. "No. No, I'm sorry," you say, shaking your head slightly. "It's just- I'm trying to get a cab home but apparently their phone is broken." You gesture towards the bar, displaying the utter uselessness of its bartender with the look on your face.

Natasha seems to take a little amusement in your frustration, the faintest of a smile appearing on her face. "You ain't got your own phone to call a cab?" The mobile is received from your pocket, quickly held up by your hand as you flash the dead device to the redhead opposite. She sighs, tilting her head back. "Ah, I see. What about that boyfriend of yours? Couldn't he call you a cab?"

You're a little surprised to hear her mention that piece of information, even if you'd only shared it with her minutes before in the bathroom stall. The mention of his presence is enough to drag the long sigh from your chest as you stare down at the bar. "Not when he's the reason I need one."

"Alright, I'm gonna need you to elaborate on that one."

Her words draw your eyes back to her, briefly grazing over her face before you respond. "He left with his friends. Gone off to some other bar. Told me to phone a cab home."

Natasha lets out a breath of air. "Dickhead." You watch her as she takes a sip from the beer in her hand, trying not to notice the way her lips look pressed against the top of the bottle. "You know, a pretty girl like you shouldn't have to wait around on assholes like that."

And then there's that same heat you felt in the bathroom, creeping up your cheeks unwelcome. You turn away again as you shrug in an attempt to hide it. "He's not that bad-" "Sure," Natasha cuts you off before you can even finish your explanation. In truth, you weren't even sure what else you were going to say, what redeeming qualities you could draw about the boy who'd left you stranded in the city to go get drunk with his friends. Instead you just turn to the woman sat beside you, only shallowly realising how she is in fact a minor celebrity and that a lot of the people around were probably looking over at the pair of you. But when Natasha smiles and leans in, it's like it all disappears. "Alright, lemme tell you this. You let me buy you one drink and I'll phone you a taxi home."

You look back at the rockstar sat across from you, letting her words settle into your mind. This close you can once again tell just how beautiful she is, how any girl in this room would pay good money to be where you are right now. But you don't want to be that kind of girl, the kind that chases after someone just because they have a little bit of fame. Nevertheless, there is something about the redhead that draws you in. Maybe it's the layers of piercings you can see stacking her ears, or the patchwork of tatoos lining her exposed arms. Whatever it is, something about her is making you want to follow whatever she says. Furthermore, her offer is one that is rather too good to refuse. After a moment, you sigh as you nod your head. "Fine. One drink." Natasha Romanoff smirks, calling the bartender over almost immediately with two fingers. It's the same tilted smile you had seen her passing you from across the stage, though now you can take notice of the small dimple that appears on her cheek when those lips pull taught. Everything about this encounter was setting something alight inside you but you couldn't quite put your finger on it.

When your drink finally arrives - curtesy of a different bartender - you decidedly join the rockstar on the stools lined up against the bar. The leather is sticky and uncomfortable against the exposed skin under your skirt. Still, you ignore it as you look over at the redhead to your right, slowly taking a sip of the cocktail you'd ordered as you get the opportunity to voice the question that's been on your mind for the last couple hours. "Why were you looking at me on stage?"

"Why'd you think?" Natasha smirks the widest you've seen all night, licking her bottom lip as she turns to you. "I thought maybe you and I could have some fun but…you had to be little miss taken." You try not to react to her words, or moreover the way her eyes drag themselves over your body, particularly your exposed thighs against the red leather of the barstool. "Maybe we could still have some fun yet tho, hm?" Natasha finishes, her eyes returning to yours. Even in the dim light of the bar you can tell they're blown out, pupils wide as they drink you in.

You let out a sigh. "Listen, in the nicest way possible, I don't actually really know who you are and I don't know about this whole thing you're doing, if it's normal but-"

"Wait," Natasha cuts you off. "You were in the front row and don't know who I am?"

You feel a little bashful as you shrug your shoulders. "I mean- I kinda do, I guess. I mean- I've listened to a few of your band's songs but I'm not like- a fan or anything."

"Not a fan?" Natasha breathes, reaching to take another sip of her drink with an amused expression. "So tell me, how does a girl who's not a fan end up hugging the stage all night?"

You take a sip of your own cocktail before you reply. "My boyfriend bought the tickets."

"Ah there it is," Natasha nods. "The boyfriend yet again." She turns in her chair, legs moving to dangle off the side. "You know, he's not really our target demographic."

You know exactly what she's talking about, almost too quickly. It was rather obvious to you that Crimson Coven was not a band trying to attract straight men, even if they did flock to them over their members' good looks. "Yeah, I tried to tell him that," you reply, sipping on your drink.

One of the redhead's brows raises, eyes tracing over your face. "What's that one saying?" she ask, swirling the bottle in her hands. "Takes one to know one?" You feel the saliva pool in your throat as she looks back at you, smirk wider than ever. Swallowing harshly, you take a rather big swig of your drink, trying your best to ignore the way you can hear your heartbeat in your ears. Natasha simply breathes out a laugh. "I think you're maybe not as you first seem, little lady." Right then there's a look that passes between you, your eyes wide and questioning, Natasha's dark and hooded. Then her hand is landing on your thigh, just above your knee where the skin is exposed. Her thumb strokes back and forth delicately as she licks her lips. "Why don't you tell me your name?"

There's a strange bubbling inside your stomach, a flutter to your heart. You want to turn and walk right out of there, ditch the rockstar in front of you and try your luck hailing a cab on the street. But part of you notices the shiver her touch sends up your thigh, how her skin is warm against yours in just the right kind of way, how despite your circumstances, just how amazing this moment feels. "Y/N," you reply eventually, swallowing your first instincts to the warm pit of your stomach.

"Y/N," the redhead repeats, rolling the name over her tongue. "I'm-"

"Natasha. I know."

She seems taken aback by your quick answer, cutting off her sentence before she can finish. She frowns slightly back at you. "I thought you said you didn't."

Now it's your turn to raise your brow. "I said I wasn't a fan. Not that I didn't know your name."

"I see," Natasha replies, her voice laced with amusement. She smiles to herself as she sips her beer, turning back with a wide grin. "You know, I've never slept with a Y/N before."

"You sleep with a lot of girls then?"

"I've done the rounds," Natasha shrugs. The nonchalant nature of her reply is enough to have you passing her a displeased look across the bar. She raises her brow, looking back at you. "What? You want me to lie to you? Tell you I'm the virgin mary?"

You want to laugh in response but hold yourself back, entirely aware of the game Natasha is trying to play. "So...what?" you draw out, playing with the rim of your glass. "You want me to be one of your new collectibles?"

"Well maybe if I get lucky."

You turn back to the smirking redhead. "I wouldn't buy a lottery ticket."

And she laughs, like really laughs right into her drink before she takes a sip. When she places it back on the bar, she shakes her head as she turns to look at you with a smirk. "You know most girls flock to my side," she says, raising a brow. "Asking for autographs or pictures."

"I already told you. I don't know that much about your band."

"You're here though, aren't you?" Natasha replies. "You must know some things."

She isn't entirely wrong. Sure, you knew of the things your boyfriend has endlessly droned on about. About Wanda being the one who named the band. Or about Carol and her cat, or Maria and her brief military background. You even knew about Natasha, little sparks in your memory of her coming from Russia or her hair being blonde at some point. It's all stored in the backlog of your brain, hours of knowledge you'd spent years sorting into the dusty compartments of your mind you never cared to look at. Still, there's something now about speaking to Natasha in real time, not hearing about your boyfriend's idealised version of her that feels a little different. Things here feel a little more real.

You don't acknowledge Natasha's question as you take a sip from your drink. "You want me to ask for your autograph?" you ask as you place the glass back down. "Is that it?"

The answer that follows is in such a low register you can barely hear it over the music. "I think we both know what I want."

You look back at Natasha, at her dazzling smirk and messy red hair. "Well I'm sorry to disappoint but I'm not your girl." A tight smile appears on your lips as you gaze out into the sea of bodies across the room. "Why don't you go find someone else?"

"Why would I when you're the prettiest thing in here?" Natasha's response is quick, almost as quick as the way her eyes divert to to rest if your body. "Hell, I'd go as far as to say you're the prettiest girl I've ever seen."

"Listen," you sigh. "I appreciate the flattery but-"

"I ain't fucking around if that's what you think," Natasha says quickly, cutting you off. The look in her eye as she scans your face shows how genuine her words feel. "You caught my eye the second I stepped on stage. You're fucking gorgeous, angel. Forgive me if it's a crime to want to see more."

Despite your better instincts, you let out a laugh into your glass. No one has ever been this forward with you before, never complimented you so much to the point you can feel the heat of their words on your skin. Hell, not even Tyler was ever this keen to get you into bed. And you know you shouldn't like it, shouldn't fall for the rockstar's methods, but you can't help but enjoy the praise just a little bit.

That feeling is soon quashed however when your temple gives a sudden jolt of pain. You wince slightly, reminded of the too-loud atmosphere you'd spent the last few hours in. The alcohol probably wasn't helping much either.

"What's wrong?"

You're a little surprised when Natasha speaks, unaware of her having noticed your small flinch at the pain. You simply shake your head in response, smiling back at her. "Nothing. I'm fine. It's just a headache."

"You know," the rockstar replies quickly. "It's cooler backstage. Quieter too." You must give her a look laced with poison because she holds her hands up in defence once again, though this time smirking back at you. "Hey, Im just saying."

Despite your glare, you're still interested in the redhead sat opposite you. It's like even with her forward approach, you can't help but be drawn to some part of her. You try to avoid the smile that creeps back on to your face as you look back into her eyes. "Does this routine usually work for you?"

Natasha chuckles to herself before leaning in to speak. "Honey, by now I usually have a girl screaming my name as she rides my face."

It's now you're entirely glad of the dimness in the room, hiding the flushed state that rises in your throat and heats up your cheeks. You can feel yourself getting worked up by Natasha's bold statement, unsure of what to do with yourself or how to respond. In doubt of yourself, you simply reach for the cocktail glass in front of you and down the rest of the liquid. It burns a little going down but you find you don't mind it. Anything to take away from the feeling you can recognise brewing in your stomach.

You can just about feel Natasha's smirk as much as you can see it, pressing into the side of your head as she watches you become flustered, clearly enjoying the effect she is having on you. "Here," she says, adjusting herself in the chair. "Let me buy you another one."

You turn to meet her eye, holding it harshly. "I said one drink."

That smirk remains for a long while as Natasha just looks back at you, not answering for a few passing moments. It even stays as she lifts one of her arms, arching it so it comes to rest on the back of your barstool, officially caging in your conversation. "Alright," she drawls, her body leaning in towards yours. "Look at it like this. I can buy you another drink and we can talk some more. Maybe think about heading backstage, get you somewhere quieter. Or..." The redhead licks her licks, pausing as she angles her head. "I can phone you that cab now and you can mope in the backseat till you get home. Then, stumble into your cold apartment alone and just wait for your drunk boyfriend to get home and sidle up next to you in bed."

The blatant look on Natasha's face is a good representation of how you feel about the whole situation she's proposed. The thought of dealing with Tyler later is enough to have you rolling your eyes, already imagining his drunken state reaching out for you and wiping wet kisses along your neck, stinking of booze and the remaining perfume of whatever girl he's been chatting up at the bar. It's almost like a routine you've both fallen into, simply ignoring it every time until without fail, it'll happen again.

And maybe tonight you're done with it. Maybe tonight is the night you don't want to have to deal with him anymore, to hear him talk about himself for hours on end like you don't even exist. It's partially the thought of finally letting that go that pulls you in the direction you choose, but it's also largely down to the way you can feel Natasha pressing in closer, her face moving just inches from yours as her lips press up against your ear. Somehow, it's like you can even feel her smirking as her lips barely graze the skin beside your face. "If you come with me, I promise you won't regret it."

Maybe it is that that finally does it for you, the shiver of goosebumps running down your spine as you still feel the redhead's hand grazing your thigh. Maybe it's that or maybe it's the heat finally getting to you, or the alcohol hitting your head. It could be any of those, or maybe combination of them all. Whatever your brain decides to settle on as a reason, it doesn't really matter because within seconds, you're calling over the bartender for another drink, allowing yourself to fall into whatever rabbit hole Natasha Romanoff is offering you.

"I knew I'd like you, Y/N," the redhead whispers close, grinning widely at your acceptance. You don't say anything in response until the bartender is placing your vodka coke on the bar. And even then, just as you reach for the glass, Natasha is diverging any words you may have spoken as she grabs hold of your hand. "Come on," she calls and it's a challenge not to spill any of the drink as the redhead quickly begins to pull you from the bar.

"Natasha, wait-" you try to respond, not entirely sure of where this might be going, but the star is quickly cutting you off as she presses her lips together.

"Shh," she drags, looking back at you over her shoulder. "It's okay, angel. It's better back here, I promise."

Something in you gives in because you let her drag you through the crowds of the room, trying desperately not to spill the beverage in your hands. You notice on the way a few recognising faces that glance at Natasha, then almost turn a little sour as they fall onto you. You only get the chance to wonder about their jealousy for a few moments before Natasha has pulled you away from everyone entirely, slipping you through a door into a quiet corridor. And then, after turning a few corners and dodging a few stacks of equipment crates, she pulls you through another door into an entirely empty room.

It's only then does the redhead finally release your hand, letting you roam free as she crosses to sit on one of the sofas positioned within the room. Beside them, there's stacks of band equipment, most of which you don't quite recognise. The red guitar on the stand is easy, and the set of drumsticks lying on a table, but the speakers and wires sit in a valley of other items you probably couldn't name if you tried.

There are scatterings of personality throughout the space; a leather jacket thrown over a couch, an ashtray of old cigarettes on a coffee table, some cards laying close beside it. And for a moment you wonder if this is what Natasha Romanoff's life is like. Backrooms full of band equipment, roaring crowds that call out her name. An endless supply of money and booze and cigarettes and girls. It's so so far away from the reality that you live that it can't help but be a little fascinating, this room just a little window into the life of a true rockstar.

The one thing you do very quickly notice however, is the main luxury that the exclusive backstage room seems to have; air conditioning. Beautifully cool air floods your body as soon as the door closes behind you, your headache already cowering back in the quiet atmosphere. You just can't help but let out a long, appreciative sigh at the respite from the hot, humid air outside.

"Told ya." Natasha's voice calls as you see her throw herself down on one of the sofas, so easily slipping into her own space backstage.

You simply roll your eyes as you take a sip of the drink in your hand, surprisingly intact after lugging it across the venue. "So, where are your other friends?" you ask, looking more so at the room full of band things than the member sat on the couch across from you.

Natasha sighs, sitting back as her eyes drag over you. "Probably in rooms close by hoping to get somewhere like me."

"And where exactly is that?" you ask, feet wandering across the opposite side of the room from the redhead. She smirks back at you, watching your every movement.

"Why don't you tell me, gorgeous?"

You can feel yourself smile, finally allowing Natasha's flirting get to you. But instead of replying to her question, you simply run your fingers over the red instrument propped up on the stand beside you. "How long have you played guitar?"

"Fifteen years," Natasha replies quickly, unwavering at your change of topic.

You nod to yourself, looking down at the instrument. "Wow." There isn't anything you've probably committed to for that long, besides maybe school. You take a sip of your drink as you turn to lean on a table against the wall, now facing the still sitting redhead across the way. "How'd you meet the other girls?"

"It's a long story."

You hum in response, waiting just a moment for her to elaborate before you realise she's leaving it up to your own imagination. The two of you hold eye contact as you bring your drink up to your mouth, letting the bubbles pop on your lips as you drink before smoothing it over with your tongue. Theres a specific look in Natasha's eye you can't seem to recognise, almost as if she wants to eat you right where you stand. That smirk widens as you take another sip, your tongue yet again swiping over your lips and the sweet residual soda lingering there. It's then Natasha finally speaks, nodding her head in your direction. "Come here."

And you do. Placing your drink down on the table before pressing yourself up from it, you slowly make your way across the room to where Natasha sits. As you come to stand between her open legs, the rockstar sits up, her body straightening and her hands coming to rest on the sides of your hips. You let them explore a little as Natasha moves, forgoing the layer of your leather jacket and pressing directly beneath the hem on your shirt. Her fingertips feel calloused as they brush the skin beneath it, years of playing guitar coming to create the most amazing sensation as she brushes against your body.

"God, your skin is so soft," Natasha says lowly, almost to herself. It sounds like she's truly mesmerised, her entire being taken over by the feeling of you against her skin. And perhaps some part of you feels it too because without knowing what truly compels you, you find yourself lowering your body down into her lap. Natasha smirks as you come to rest upon her thighs, knees caging either side of her body. She glances down at the way your skirt rides up, only leaving little to the imagination of what lies beneath. Her hands come to rest there, stroking the soft skin of your upper thighs as you lift your arms above her shoulders, letting them fall behind her head as you stare into her eyes. From here, in the new lighting of the backstage room, you can see the sea of green that shrouds her pupils.

For a while you two just drink each other in, your bodies comfortably close as your eyes trace one another. Then, eventually Natasha is talking once more as her fingers reach out towards you. "What's this?"

You follow her eyeline down to your chest, watching the way her fingers have found the crystal hanging around your neck. "Aventurine," your reply.

Natasha smiles as she looks back at your face. "Wanda's the crystal lover so you'll have to enlighten me. What does this one do?"

You shrug a little. "It's brings a few things...Hope, optimism, prosperity. Mostly luck."

The redhead raises a brow as her voice finds that playful tone. "Luck?"

"Mhm," you hum, finding yourself leaning in just slightly closer. "Stone of opportunity."

"So you're telling me it's because of this little rock that I wound up with a pretty girl sat on my lap?"

You hold back a laugh as you search Natasha's smirking face. "Don't call it a rock."

"No?"

You shake your head, humming. "I think it offends them."

The two of you are pressed even closer now, your arms coming crossed behind Natasha's head as she pulls you in. Her voice is almost a whisper when she speaks. "I know some things I could do to offend a lot of people."

The breath you release is shaky as you feel Natasha's hand reach up to cusp your face. She holds your chin, finger so delicate across your skin before she reaches to trace your bottom lip, just momentarily pulling it down with her thumb.

And it's then, with her face pressed so close to yours, green eyes almost black with lust, that you finally let everything go and you lean in. The first kiss is electrifying. Like that first strum of a chord when the guitar kicks in in a song, the bass just rattling your bones and setting your nerves on fire.

Natasha's lips are beautifully soft against yours, a contrast to the harshness of her fingertips you can feel pressing into the side of your face. She tastes like cherry lip gloss and cigarette smoke, sweet but hazy to your senses. The redhead quickly takes a grip of your jaw, angling your head just right so she can drive the kiss deeper. You don't complain as she begins to domineer your mouth, tongue sliding across yours with the skills of a professional.

When you both finally pull back for air, you can only wonder why you forced yourself to wait for this so long. Her touch is like nothing you've ever felt before, your entire body simply set alight with a hunger for her. You look down at the redhead for a moment and Natasha smirks devilishly up at you, eyes blown wide before she's pulling you back in. Your hands hold the back of her neck as your lips collide once more, pulling her in as close to you as you can in a desperate need for more.

Natasha's fingers dance up your arms before you can feel her begin to press the leather jacket away from your shoulders. You move your hands to let her remove it, only hearing it crash to the floor as you try desperately to hold your lips against the rockstar's. A low whine erupts in your throat as you feel her pull away seconds later, your bruised mouth chasing hers.

But Natasha just lets herself grin as her hands caress your body, deft fingers running up and down your sides. Only moments later, she's reaching beneath the material of your shirt to pull it over your head. Her breaths are heavy as her eyes trace your exposed body, almost fixated on the swell of your breasts in the lacy balconette bra cladding your chest.

"Fuck," the redhead says under her breath. Her hands come up to caress your tits, squeezing them tenderly through the material as your own pants flow from your chest. Her lips connect soon after, kissing and nipping at the skin of your cleavage with delicate precision. You let your head fall back as the redhead pays attention to your chest, simultaneously sucking and playing with your tits with her mouth and hands, sending rolls of pleasure flooding down your spine.

When one of her hands slips up the bare skin of your back, her lips disconnect as she meets your eye. Her fingers play with the clasp of your bra as you look down at her. "Can I?" she whispers, face so close to your own.

"Uh huh," you reply, nodding your head quickly. It's only seconds later you can feel the release against your chest, Natasha's skilled hands making quick work of the clasp and tossing your brassiere to the side. Her attention is straight back on you as she reveals your bare chest, kissing the previously hidden skin as she murmurs soft praises into the flesh. "God, you're so beautiful."

Your fingers find a place running through her hair as she continues to play with your tits, red fibres intertwined with your painted nails. A string of softer sounds elicits from your throat as Natasha's fingers find your nipples, pinching and pulling at the hardened buds with just the perfect amount of pressure.

"Natasha," you breath out heavily, holding back a moan as her teeth replace her hands playing with your chest.

"Yeah baby?" the redhead responds, looking up at you but not removing her face from where it rests.

The look on her face only adds to the pool you can feel forming between your legs, all down to her touch and copious amounts of flirting. You want to see more of her, want to run your hands across her body. Not entirely confident enough to word it, you settle for a whine as you tug at her shirt. Thankfully, it seems Natasha is apt at picking up your signals because she smirks widely before reaching to untuck her shirt and pull it over her head.

As the rockstar tosses it somewhere across the room, you can't help but stare at the sight she's unveiled. Her tits sit beautifully in a red bralette, perked perfectly with pink nipples visible through the mesh material. Every part of you feels totally enamoured by her look, eyes unable to peel themselves away from her heavenly cleavage on display.

It's in your admiration, you find yourself distracted, not noticing the way the rockstar's hand has slipped up your skirt until you suddenly feel her touch against your underwear. A gasp escapes you as her fingers graze over your clothed core, most definitely feeling the way her tactics have saturated the material. The redhead makes eye contact with you, pupils dark. "This okay?" she whispers, voice as thick as honey.

It takes all your efforts to breathe out a response, entirely worked up by her touch. "Yeah," you reply, nodding quickly. By this point you would let her do whatever she wanted if it would soothe ache between your legs.

Natasha smiles widely as she hears your response. "Lift your hips for me," she says, playing a chaste kiss to your collar bone. You do ask she asks, rising up to your knees on the sides of the couch. It gives Natasha the room to hook her fingers underneath the sides of your underwear, pulling them down painfully slowly as she looks into your eyes. When she finally manages to slide them over your legs, she tosses them somewhere off to the side before pulling you back down to sit on her lap.

Just then, a sudden thought crosses your mind. "I've-I've never done this before," you stutter out. "With a woman, I mean."

You wonder for a moment if Natasha will be put off by your inexperience, but that thought is quickly extinguished when the redhead only smirks wider. "That's alright," she replies. "Cause I happen to be somewhat of an expert."

You let out the barest of a laugh at her words, letting the anxiety flood out of your mind. Natasha's smirk holds as you feel her hand creep up your skirt again, dancing over the delicate skin of your inner thigh. "Relax, sweetheart," she husks. "I got you now."

Her fingers move to again run over your centre, this time touching your bare skin as you feel her fingers trace your soaked folds. She collects the wetness pooling from your centre before dragging it up to your clit, spreading it as she slowly begins to circle the bud. A moan slips as she presses a little harder, her fingers perfectly pooling pleasure between your legs.

"That's it, baby," Natasha purrs, face close to your ear. "Let me hear all those pretty noises."

You feel your teeth plunge into your bottom lip as another moan slips from your throat. Natasha's touch is so teasingly slow you can't help but buck your hips a little into her hand. "Please-" you whine, desperate for her to do more.

Thankfully, Natasha obliges and another moan drawls from your chest as you feel her middle finger plunge into your core. Your muscles tense around her, pulling her finger in further as your face comes to burrow into the redhead's shoulder.

"Uh uh," Natasha sounds from above you. "Let me see your face, pretty girl." Her finger find your chin, directing your gaze back up until your eyes meet with hers."There you go."

She smiles widely as she leans in for a kiss, once again enveloping your lips in her sweet, sultry taste. The two of you press deeply into another, noses brushing together. You can feel Natasha's finger slowly begin to move inside you, teasing your walls as you whine against her mouth. Your lips only disconnect when you feel Natasha add another finger to the one pumping inside you, your face falling as a gasp sounds from your chest.

She works almost painfully slow, her fingers pulling virtually all the way out before steadily bottoming inside you once again. Each time, her fingertips press against that spot inside you, just softly enough for you to barely feel it. Chasing more of a high, your hips begin to rut against her hand. "Natasha," you whine, voice long and drawn out at her teasing attitude. Some part of you wonders if it's some form of payback for letting it take so long to get you in this position.

The rockstar places a soft kiss to the side of your neck before she's whispering in your ear, hot breath fanning out across the skin. "Shh, just ride my fingers," she says, smiling against you. You feel her free hand come to rest upon your hip, slowly guiding you to rut harder against her hand. Each time you do, you feel her fingers curl into that spot inside you, sending soft sighs of pleasure cascading from your lips.

"'Atta girl," Natasha husks, continuing to guide your movements with her palm. Your hands come to rest upon her shoulders, holding yourself up as you rock back and forth. The redhead's fingers slide in and out of you with each motion, the sounds of the wetness between your legs joined by the moans slipping from your tongue.

Natasha watches with wide eyes as you grind against her hand, fingers gripping into her shoulders as your pleasure grows. She lets her digits curl inside you, releasing sweet, sudden sounds from your lips. Her thumb moves to brush against your clit, the hardened surface sending shocks of pleasure through you each time you rock your hips.

"Fuck baby," Natasha says lowly, watching you practically fuck yourself on her lap. "Are you gonna make a mess?" she drawls. "You gonna make a mess all over my fingers for me?"

"Uh huh," you respond, barely managing to nod your head as you can feel that coil building tighter and tighter in your stomach. Natasha's touch is like electric to your skin, each thrust building to a crescendo at your core.

"Come on, angel," the redhead whispers. "Show me just how pretty you are when you cum."

Her words, alongside one last thrust of your hips is enough to send you toppling over that edge. Your moan is drawn out loudly as you feel yourself come undone, eyes slamming shut as you grip hold of Natasha's shoulders. Your body arches in to her, letting Nat take advantage of your chest with her mouth once more as her fingers ride you through your orgasm.

"Fuck," you breathe, finally starting to come down from your high. You open your eyes once more to see Nat smirking up at you, letting go of your nipple between her teeth as both of her hands now rest on your waist. As your mind clears, you let yourself begin to fall back down on to her lap, but when you accidentally land directly on her thigh, you feel a shock sent through your core. You wince, immediately lifting yourself back up at the sensitivity.

But Natasha seems to have other plans. "Shh, angel. It's okay," she murmurs as her hands grip harsher on to the skin of your waist. She begins to push you back down, eliciting a gasp as your sensitive core connects again with her leg. You squirm a little in the position, fighting ever so slightly against Natasha as she tries to drop your full weight on to her. "Just sit on my thigh," she drawls, hands guiding you down. "Just like that, there you go."

The position hikes your tight skirt all the up to your waist, completely exposing your cunt as it comes to rest against the bare skin of Natasha's thigh. You're pathetically wet against her, cum still dripping out your core from your previous orgasm. But if anything, Natasha only seems to enjoy the way you soak her skin, smirking up at you as her hands begin to direct you once again. Her movements force you to rock back and forth slowly, your slick coating the skin of her leg beneath you. The wave of pleasure that comes from the movement sends a moan tipping out your mouth, your head falling back as your clit throbs with each brush against Natasha's thigh.

"Does that feel good, baby?" the redhead beneath you husks, still guiding your movements. It takes all your focus to nod your head. "Mhm?" Natasha questions, her voice purely laced with amusement. "You're such a good girl. Just keep grinding on me, just like that."

You feel the rockstar's hands disengage from your waist but your movement continues, encouraged by her words and praise. You watch between fluttering eyelashes as Natasha reaches to take off her bra, tossing it aside and revealing her perfect tits to you. Then, you see as her hands moves to undo her shorts, opening each button before her fingers disappear beneath the waistband of the black denim.

You hold back a whine as you see her face contort, only imagining what her fingers may be doing under the material of those shorts. "God, you're making me so wet," the redhead breathes, reaching up to place a kiss on to your pouting lips. You release a whine into her, muffled by her tongue lapping over your own. "Such a pretty girl," Natasha mewls when she pulls away, one hand reaching up to caress your jaw. "So pretty just for me. Wanna see how wet I am for you?"

You feel yourself nodding as you look into her green eyes, turned even more on by the concept of Natasha getting off just by looking at you. The redhead removes her fingers from beneath her shorts before bringing them up to your face, letting you view the soaked digits momentarily before pressing them up to your lips. You take in her fingers welcomely, humming around them as you let the taste of her coat your tongue.

"Fuck, you're so hot," Natasha husks, sounding about as love-drunk as you felt sucking on her fingers. She lets you lap them up a moment longer before pulling them from your lips with a pop. Then, you watch as she dips them back below her shorts, moaning softly at the contact it makes on her hidden centre.

Your eyes feel almost transfixed on the hand concealed beneath the material of Natasha's black shorts. The only true indication of whatever her fingers are doing comes from the delicate hums and sighs that escape the redhead's lips. The sight alone is enough to make you grind your cunt harder against her thigh, desperately trying to ease the heat growing there.

The rockstar notices your attempts becoming more determined, fingers clutching at her shoulders as your own needy mewls drip from your tongue. "Are you gonna cum on my thigh baby?" she asks, smirking widely.

You grind faster against her, trying desperately to chase your high but it feels like it's never coming. "I can't," you whine, hopelessly rutting atop of her.

"You can," Natasha nods.

"Mm-hm," you hum, shaking your head. Your fingers grip harder into her skin, the feeling between your legs never quite reaching that peak you're seeking out.

"You can, baby," Natasha replies quickly, voice assertive. "Look, just like this." You feel her hands come to rest upon your ass, fingers gripping into the soft flesh before she begins to rock you once more. With her guidance, you follow a more structured pattern, your clit brushing perfectly against her thigh with each rock of your hips. "There you go," the redhead hums, watching your face screw up in pleasure at the newfound rhythm. Moans begin to cascade from your lips in desperate tones as each new thrust sends you closer to that edge. The way Natasha guides you sends perfect waves of pleasure through your entire body, your hands pressing into her shoulders to try ground yourself in the high. When you feel her fingers join in on the equation, your cries turn ever more lewd, her hand placed so that your clit brushes directly over her calloused tips each time you rut your hips.

"Come on baby girl," you hear Natasha husk, her face close to yours. "Cum for me. You can do it. Cum all over my thigh."

One more thrust sends you hurtling over the edge, screaming out as you feel a gush of warmth flooding onto Natasha's leg. Your arms wrap around her head, anchoring yourself in as you ride out your high, mewling choked moans into the redhead's ear. Natasha guides you through the orgasm once more, still slowly guiding your hips to an eventual stop. When you finally emerge from the crook of her neck, you're panting.

The rockstar admires the way your chest rises and falls, the green crystal still hanging around your neck, nestled in the valley of your breasts. "God, you're so fucking perfect," she husks, drinking in your figure. "I could get addicted to the way you look falling apart for me."

You don't say anything in response as you still try to calm yourself from the high, head feeling fuzzy as you look back at the redhead. She smirks widely as she watches you, utterly obsessed with the way you look sat on top of her, eyes glazed over in residual pleasure.

A single one of her fingers comes to swipe up some of the cum you've left slathered on her thigh, purposely brushing slightly over the top of your bruised clit just to watch you squirm a little before bringing her hand up to her own mouth. She practically laps up the stickiness coating her finger, humming lowly as your cum trickles down her throat. "God," she breathes, letting her finger fall. "I wish I had my strap so I could fuck that sweet little pussy of yours." You whine on top of her, still too inebriated to form a real response. Natasha only chuckles at your intoxication. "Would you like that, pretty girl? Like me to fuck you till you can't even think anymore?"

"Uh huh," you nod, already fantasying the image inside your head.

Natasha laughs again, tilting her head as she watches your face. "You're so cum-drunk right now I think you're already half way there. Isn't that right?" A low sound in the back of your throat is the only response, heightened when you feel Natasha's lips connect with your neck. She sucks as the soft flesh, glazing over the burn with her tongue. She stays there a moment, clearly leaving a mark on your skin that you have no idea how you'll cover up tomorrow. But quite frankly, you don't even care.

When Natasha pulls away, she notices how that glaze has left your eyes, your consciousness returning finally after your last climax. She smirks, eyeing you with that mischievous look as her face comes to rest near your cleavage, placing a chaste kiss to your sternum before looking back up. "You want me to empty that pretty head of yours some more?"

You're barely able to focus on her words as she lets her tongue circle around your nipple. In the end, you don't answer her question, simply whine as her teeth tease at the hardened bud. "Tasha-"

The nickname slips from your tongue almost too easily, your brain not even recognising it. Natasha, however, does, and she can't believe how amazing it sounds coming from your mouth. "Fuck," she whispers, coming face to face with you again. She looks into your eyes for a long moment before she begins to shift her body, turning yours with it. "Lie down for me, baby," she murmurs, twisting your body to lay down on the couch beneath you. "Just like that."

You let her manoeuvre you to the perfect position, arching slightly as the cold leather of the couch hits your back. Lying back, you watch as Natasha leans over you, placing a few quick kisses to your neck before travelling lower. When she reaches your waistline, her fingers work to unzip the skirt still clinging to your waist. She makes light work of undoing it before beginning to pull it down your legs, placing kisses on your warm flesh as she goes. When the article is tossed aside, the rockstar begins to unfasten the boots still tied to your feet. She removes them quickly, laying them aside and soon letting her own join them.

Then, you watch in awe as the redhead slowly slips her fingers into the waistband of her own shorts, almost making a show out of it as she slips the garment down. Shorts and underwear go at the same time as Natasha strips herself in front of you, smirking as she notices the way you stare. Your eyes never leave her as her body moves back towards the couch, coming to a rest above you as her knees straddle your waist. "You're so hot," you all but mumble, mesmerised by the sight in front of you.

Natasha simply chuckles lowly at your response. "Give me your hand," she says, reaching out towards your wrist. You let her take hold, watching intently as she guides you between her legs. She runs your fingers methodically through her folds, gasping quietly as the touch. She's soaked, slick coating your digits, probably residual from where she had been touching herself earlier. "You feel that? It's all for you, baby." Natasha hums as she guides your hand through her core. You can't help but let your own little noises slip, feeling just how wet she is beneath your touch. Your fingers curl at the ends, dipping into Natasha's centre before you pull them up to rub at her swollen clit. "Ah, fuck," the star moans, pinching her eyes closed. She lets you play with her a bit longer before she eventually pulls your hand away, letting it drop to your side. Instead, she reaches the hand she was using to guide you under your right thigh, squeezing into the flesh gently. "Lift your leg for me," she says, pulling upwards on your thigh.

You let her manoeuvre your leg, holding it up to the side while she adjusts her own body. You watch as one of her legs hooks over your waist, angling herself so that her core is directly above your own. When she sinks down to meet you, a lewd gasp sounds from your mouth, the new sensation electric against your skin. Natasha's cunt is wet against your own, accentuated by the cum that sill coats your sensitive folds.

"Oh my god," you breathe out, entirely in awe at the new feeling of the redhead against you. The star smirks down at you, letting your legs fall back into a relaxed position as she anchors herself to your hips with her hands. When she begins to move against you, the loud moans that escape you coat the entire room.

Her clit brushes beautifully against your own as Natasha rocks her hips back and forth, the noises of your combined wetness thick in the air. "Fuck, you feel so good," the redhead moans out, her own breath becoming shallow as she rolls against you. It doesn't mean that she lets her guard down entirely though, quickly noticing when your head lolls to the side and your eyes squeeze shut. "Eyes on me, beautiful," she directs, reaching out to grasp your face.

You let her turn your chin as you open your eyes back up, drinking in the sight in front of you. Natasha rocks back and forwards against you with a perfect rhythm, her tits bouncing with each new thrust. Natasha sees you watching and reaches for your hands, guiding them up to plump flesh of her chest. You squeeze roughly, savouring the delicate moans that spill from the rockstar's lips.

"God, you're so hot," the redhead murmurs between heavy breaths. "I just can't get enough of you. Maybe I'll just have to bring you along on tour with me, let you be my little groupie."

You moan loudly, not only from the way Natasha's cunt grinds over your swollen clit, but also at the teasing voice and notion of her words. Natasha smirks down at you. "You like that idea, huh?" she husks. "You wanna be my little groupie who I fuck like this after all my shows?"

You don't have the ability to form a response to her, merely putting all of your energy into chasing your combined high. Your back arches off the cold leather of the couch as you try your best to rock your hips against the rockstar's, listening to the sound of your wet cunts grinding desperately against one another. When a particular thrust bumps across your clit, a whine sounds low in the back of your throat. "Tasha-"

The nickname does wonders once again in Natasha's mind, sounding so sweet lacing your tongue. "Fuck," she murmurs, trying to keep up her pace. "I want you to say my name like that when you cum baby, okay?"

You nod weakly, chest heaving. "Good girl." Natasha bucks slightly as your clits brush over one another, her legs twitching by your sides. "Fuck."

The two of you continue to rock against one another, your moans harmonising together as you both climb closer to your climax. Your hands rest upon Natasha's full thighs, gripping for support as the pleasure rolls over you in waves. She clasps at your waist, feeling the thin layer of perspiration coating your skin.

"Fuck," you breathe out. "I think I'm gonna-"

"Cum for me," Natasha finishes, thrusting into you. You do as she says and let that coil loose in your stomach, letting your orgasm shred through you as you all but scream out in pleasure.

"Oh fuck, Tasha."

Her name dripping from your lips sends the redhead over the edge too, rutting against you as she cums hard. "Shit," she mumbles, riding her wave as the combination of your juices blends together and soaks both of your legs.

Both of your bodies tense, movements becoming sloppy as your highs hit. When nearly a minute later, you've both come down from the peak, Natasha slowly untwines your legs from one another. She flops down on the couch beside you, barely enough room for the two of you to lie next to another. For a while you two sit with the combined sounds of your own heavy breaths, both of your bare chests heaving in the warmth of the room.

"Oh my god," you manage to slip out, finally aware of how you've just had the best sex of your life. Nothing could ever compare to what Natasha had just done to you, no other partner ever even coming close to making you cum that hard.

Natasha seeks amusement in your blown out state, clearly enjoying the revelation painted on your face. She rolls her head towards you, her signature smirk making one final appearance. "I told you, you wouldn't regret coming back stage with me."

Your head turns towards her, meeting her widened eyes still dark with lust. You almost want to tell her she's wrong, that all your avoiding earlier had been the right path you go down, but you know it's all bullshit. She was right, there wasn't a single ounce of regret in your bones.

Natasha smiles at your clear agreeance, almost smug in the way she licks her lips. She props herself up on to one arm, leaning over you with those dark emerald eyes. Her fingers come to find the crystal hanging around your neck, rolling the stone between her fingertips as she smiles deeply. Then, she turns back to you, looking as sly as she first had back in that bathroom stall. "Now," she drawls. "About that groupie thing..."

[cbartonscoffee]

I think I've never been more aware of just how many people only get their info of the batfam through fanfic. I finally started reading Red Robin (2009) and I can not believe how many things are blown out of proportion. Particularly about Dick and Damian.

First of all, Dick does try to put limits and he does get fed up with Damian's ways sometimes. Out of the three first interactions of them in the comic, at least in two he tells him to shut up. And one of those is when Damian starts to brag about being Robin and Tim being useless, he tells him to shut up twice.

Another thing about that moment, is that they treat it like Dick completely dismisses Tim and treats him as unimportant. He doesn't. He takes him seriously, he tells him he needs him, he tells him he views his as an equal, as someone capable. And he also tells him he's concerned about him and that he needs to start processing Bruce's death. Could that have been a little harsh? Yes, but he needed to do it without making Tim think there was room for him to be convinced about his theory because let's be honest, Tim would've taken anything less than complete refusal and tried to change his mind. And had he been wrong neither of them could have taken it.

Secondly, Dick is always left to shoulder the blame of kicking Tim out and of never reaching out. That's bull. And I need to make that clear. Tim was in a delicate point, he tells us this himself multiple times, but the decision to leave was completely made out of his own free will. Another thing he did was put space between him and the people on Gotham. We see only one time in which Dick tries to call him. Tim picks up and tells him he doesn't want to talk. This tells us that Dick respecting Tim's wish of space included almost no (or even no) contact, and Dick calling was not something Tim appreciated or encouraged.

Now. Going into the second year of the run, when he's back in Gotham, there's a few things to talk about and I'm still in the aftermath of Damian and Tim's fight.

I feel it's important to say that even if they are all family, more often than not they're doing their own thing. Like, Babs and Steph are in the Batcave while Dick and Damian are in Wayne Tower, Cass is said to potentially be in Hong Kong and we haven't even heard Jason be name-dropped except for the fact that he went on a rampage at some point.

So, Dick is immediately called away in League business. So he isn't there. Damian is behaving fairly civil besides being a brat, so no one wastes too much effort in correcting what he says. We need to think about the fact that this is a kid whose world was turned upside down multiple times in a short period of time, who has a need to be accepted, and who hasn't yet found his place. All this is to say, that if it's difficult to get him to eat breakfast there's no way they're controlling his every move and that's understandable.

So Dick is away, Damian is still trying to adapt, Alfred has his hands full and everyone else is doing something else.

The whole thing starts because Tim is being kind of cryptic about what he's doing with his hit list and Damian feels left out and goes looking for more. He finds his name in a hidden double side of the hit list marking him as a threat. He understandably feels hurt and angry, because he's a kid, and he's trying, and his predecessor who at this point doesn't even try with him anymore views him as something bad.

So in classic Damian fashion, he falls back on his upbringing and doesn't deal with the situation as one should, talking about it. Instead he cuts team line, hurting before being hurt. It could've been worse, we see in the panel that Tim doesn't have that much of a hard time getting safely to the ground. The problem is that he snaps and starts a full-blown fight he knows Damian won't back out off. (I'm pleased to add that after cutting his line Damian doesn't start anything else)

So they are fighting, Tim has the clear advantage and he knows this, we know this. And that's how Dick finds them. Having just returned from a JL mission, in the place where the Waynes were murdered, with Tim having overpowered Damian.

They go back to the cave and Damian shares his findings, and Dick understands. And Tim tells him he (Dick) knows why he (Tim) did it. Dick agrees, and tells him he should have tried to make it harder to find. Tim says he hadn't thought Damian would try or even care. Dick tells him Damian wants to be accepted.

All in all, so far the only thing this comic has proven to me is that there's a reason comics are the bomb and that fanon has gotten out of hand. I get making things out to be worse for the sake of a story, but everything surrounding these events is basically used as the foundation for Damian and Tim's relationship as well as Dick and Tim's and I don't think I've once read a fanfic where these events are portrayed correctly or even following the real motivations of the characters. This is a disservice to all of them and only serves to amplify the hate towards a character that doesn't deserve it. There's a lot of Damian hate going around. And it sucks. Mostly because people use his actions against Tim to justify it and honestly? I don't think you should be allowed to use that if you haven't read RR and understood what was going on.

[rezitio]

۪۫❁ཻུ۪۪┊SEXUAL DESIRES getou s  .⃗  ༉‧₊��✧  Many of the worlds practices is already cultish

˚♡"I said hold it."

http:˚♡"control yourself."

a/n: i love cultleader getou

warning: virgn r., corruption, manipulation, age gap, cunnlings, orgasm denial, dubcon, anal, orgasm, links at the end, cigarettes after sex,degradation, hymen breaking.

characters: cultleader!getou

syn: your cult leader decides to help you release sexual desires.

wc: 2.05k+

You marched to master getous office although he said to not be disturbed.

You were pretty young when you first met master getou. At the time you were too young to understand what was going on. You remembered your mother being on the verge of death but, master getou touched her once she suddenly felt better.

It put a mental image in your head. You were only seven but you knew briefly about religion and god, and at that moment you believed if there was really a god, he was standing right in front of you. With his black hair that at the time reached his mid-waist. And the gojo-kesa that made him look like a wise elder.

Your parents must have thought the same thing too because a few days later, you left to a place in the middle of nowhere where you saw your god again. This time with people who thought like you, who had similar experiences with master getou. Who worshipped and adored him.

Over the years, master getou got many more people to join his cult, New World, and you and your parents were as faithful as ever. You were a quiet girl in the cult. Recently turning 18, you noticed a few changes.

Like the new chores, you had involved being in master getous presence in rather vulnerable places. It did not help that whenever master getou was around you there would be something going on, down there, like throbbing or liquid. You always ignored this after all it was similar to something they said in studies.

They called it 'unholy urges' and to ignore it and pray whenever they came up, that they would disappear. It was easy to ignore it the first few times, but as you grew it became worse. Now you couldn't even look at master getou else it would start to hurt. Bad.

Sometimes during your master's teachings, you would rub your thighs together to stop the tingles, and even though you were told not to you touched your cunt but it only hurt more so you quickly stopped feeling the slit.

Little did you know, Getou knew. Ever since your breasts began to bounce every time you walked or when your ass would show a curve on your robe. Getou felt delight in teasing you, by making you assist him in the bath, or calling on you during teachings to come close to him and read the scriptures. He loved seeing your red face and your thighs rub each other.

Getou would send curses to molest you and make you have wet dreams or make you horny just to see you suffer because you didn't know how to touch yourself. He would watch you curl your toes and almost cry because of the pain as the curse would twist your tits or pull your clit.

One time after a teaching your cunt hurt so bad you felt like you were going to die. You blamed it on the evil spirits master getou always talked about. You prayed multiple times but the whole day it was aching and throbbing. You had to act fast. Master getou was getting ready to leave the cult house again. He would often go to the outside world to 'rid the world of evil' sometimes it took him months to come back, and you couldn't withstand this for another second.

"But what if, someone hears-" He gave a glare that made you shut up.

There would be serious consequences if you were caught but you just needed to see him. You knew if you saw him he would make the pain go away.

Gentle knocks on the door. You almost jumped when you heard his voice. "I thought I said not to be disturbed." He spoke from the other end of the door causing a liquid to run down your thigh. "Master getou, please...I-I can't any longer"

Getou had a smirk on his face on the other side of the door, he'd waited for you to finally submit yourself to him, you took too long coming he thought you must have fought the desires off. But how could he forget you were still a weak naive slut who wants her master to touch her?

"Come in." He saw you walk through the door with the robe he made you wear whenever you were doing something for him. The short shirt that showed off much of your cleavage and waist with the long but side slit skirt that he could see everything from a certain angle.

You knelt and bowed at the door, your head and down as your skirt slowly slid revealing your thin black thong he gifted you.

"Master getou-... please, it hurts" Your tears pooled in your eyes as your voice cracked. "I'm begging you."

It took everything for Getou to not touch himself hearing you plead and beg. "Stand up and come." His voice was commanding.

You did as he said, head looking at the floor with both hands in front of you till you could see his feet. He was on the edge of a bed that was placed because sometimes he would sleep in his office. "Look at me."

You raised your head and looked him in the eye. You saw your shirtless master in pants only, even his hair was down. Your eyes betrayed you to stare at his chest and then the huge bulge coming out of his pants which made your eyes widen with curiosity on what was restrained down there.

"What did I say?" He used his hand to direct your eyes back to his. "Tell me again, what is your business here?"

"Master, I can't any longer. T-the curses they-... I need help." Getou was looking at you right now and there was no curse or anything on you. What you were feeling right now was purely you. Your desires, your needs. He resisted a smile and only sighed.

"Get on the bed and show it to me." Your eyes widened at the request but you did as he said. You couldn't believe you were on the bed your master slept on, if the cult found out about this you would be disgraced but if they knew he was the one who commanded it they would see you as his favourite and always make sure you were well made for presenting. They can't risk a filthy thing on the matsers bed.

You opened your legs and laid back moving your skirt out of the way without having to remove it. He saw how red and wet you were the was cum soaked in the panty and around your lips, he wondered how he would even touch you without overstimulating you.

He grabbed the string of your thong and pulled it up. You let out a loud sound at the ache before promptly covering your mouth. "Remove your hand and don't suppress your voice. I want to hear you."

Your eyes started to haze and you felt like shutting them. Getou noticed and gave you the go-ahead to rest on his bed. When you closed your eyes you immediately fell to sleep.

"Are you questioning me when I'm helping you?" You quickly apologise and shake your head.

He chuckled at your reaction and tore off your panties. Your cunt was clenching around the air exposed you could feel it twitch.

He stared at it for a while analysing the beauty. He opened your legs wider and slapped your cunt making you moan loudly.

He grazed his fingers along your bare pussy making you moan. By instinct, you started to rock your cunt to his fingers as he just held it in place.

He couldn't believe how much of a needy whore you are to be trying to get off by humping his fingers and how when he pulled away you groaned loudly. He wanted to see what would happen if he went further.

"What were you doing to acquire such a curse?" He asked you as if the feelings you were feeling weren't natural. And a result of you being so touch-starved.

He pulled you by the waist and aligned his face with yours, he first licked it to tease you, already tasting your juices and god you were so sweet. His tongue was skilled. Your cunt was already lubricated making it easier for him to push his tongue in and out of you. It did not take long for you to start squirming and moving around.

Your moans were music to his ears even though they kept getting muffled but your thighs enclosing his head. You ran your hand through his hair and he allowed it. It took everything you had to not shove his head away because he was just helping you out of the kindness of his heart.

He could have let you suffer but he agreed to help you and exorcise the curse that was in you. You guessed this was way worse than the evil spirit that made your mom sick because of the way he aggressively pushed his tongue in and out of you. You felt the vibrations of his grunts and he said words like. "Fucking sweet." and "Needy whore."

But you didn't know if it was to you or the curse or hell a technique. But you were thankful for his help even though it felt like you were doing something wrong.

Eventually, you felt like you needed to piss, and you didn't want to piss on his face but it was like he read your mind. "Hold it." He said before continuing to abuse your cunt. This time he added a finger in your hole which made you moan louder.

"master nghh... I can't... It's gonna- mwaghhh~" Getou knows your virgin ass couldn't hold in an orgasm he wanted you to cum on his face, in fact, he got harder just thinking about it.

He just needed an excuse to put his dick in you, to take away your virginity. "MASTER!"

"I said hold it!" He inserted another finger and trusted it roughly while he thrusts his tongue in you. The stimulation was too much and you squirted all over his face. But it wasn't pee. It was a white-ish sticky substance.

"I-I'm sorry I-" He licks the cum of his lips and the outside of your cunt. "Turn over."

When you hesitated he took matters into his own hands turning you on your knees face down. You heard a zipper followed by the ruffling of pants.

"Master getou- what-" He stuck two fingers in your mouth tired of the questions. "Suck."

You did as he said and began to suck his fingers. You felt his hand stretch open your pussy. You heard a chuckle from him and him say something along the line of "It's gonna fucking hurt."

Getou aligned his tip to your pussy he inserted his tip and you moaned at the feeling confused at what he was using. He did it again but his time he trusted something huge inside.

You screamed as it hurt not the good hurt just hurt. You felt something trickling down your thigh. Getou smirked at the crimson that leaked from your hole. "Tell me when to continue." He said.

You didn't know what he meant by that but you started to feel a change instead of pain and violation you felt pleasure, intense pleasure.

"Aah~, master please continue." Getou didn't waste time and began roughly thrusting in and out of you. You felt your pussy clenching on him with each thrust. You felt guilty because you must have made things worse by squirting when he told you not to because now he was being more vocal. He said stuff like. "Fuck, tight bitch.", and "Stop fucking clenching" while also grunting a lot. It's not like you were any better. You were a loud mess.

He kept repeating the exorcism till you needed to pee again, this time he allowed you too before put a similar substance in your hole too. You felt him pull out and grab a cigarette his hand still on your ass.

link, link, link, after

Thank you guys so much for the support! Not less than a week ago I had like 7 followers now I have a 100 and smth! I really didn't expect people to like the sukuna links so much it was just a shit post, but thank you!

[bones4thecats]

hellooo can i request a hades , Poseidon , and Hermes with a Dum Dum orange cat type of reader(female)

How would they handle the reader , and how would they just try to get the reader to not just do anything dumb enough to injure or kill her tyyy

Type of Writing: Request Characters: Hades, Poseidon, and Hermes Name: {Character} with their Dumb-Dumb! Reader Requester: Anonymous

A/N: Honestly, I kinda vibe with this reader. My brain just shuts down whenever I finish a task and I look back going, 'how the hell did I do this?' like five seconds afterwards.

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

💀 He was one of the smartest Gods known anywhere, Valhalla and Earth alike. But you, you were known around Valhalla for your 'idiocy', as declared by many

💀 Now, as rude and sad as that may sound, your husband somehow couldn't fully disagree with those claims

💀 Hades would just be working on some paperwork given to him by Zeus when one of his guards would walk in with a tired expression to announce to the God that you had gotten into an accident

💀 And by accident, I mean by you were just walking around and somehow stumbled into multiple different paint cans and got covered head to tow in the multiple colors of paint

💀 Your husband has gone to many measures to make sure you didn't somehow injure, or worse, killed yourself, because of your moments of flat-mindedness

💀 He had gotten some, in other's words, baby-proofing materials installed, including covering electric outlets, since one time you stuck a fork in there for who knows what reason, and a place to keep medications and vitamins out of your reach

💀 Needless to say, one time you saw your daily vitamins on the counter-top and you pushed the bottle over to get more to fall out

💀 And when Hades saw that nearly one fourth of the container was gone, he nearly had a heart-attack because of how much he was overthinking

💀 Whenever someone asks why your vitamins were locked up in a closet with the key being constantly around Hades, he would just answer with

" To keep it plain and simple, my dear S/O had gotten into the old container and nearly gave me a, what humans describe, heart-attack. "

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

🔱 He was put off by how, in his words, 'mind-numbingly ignorant' you were when it came to, well, literally anything

🔱 Poseidon is a very serious individual, even among the God's standards, he was very stoic and cold appearing. So, when you have that information and you compare you to him, it's a surprise he hasn't tried killing you yet

🔱 Unlike Hades, he discovered your idiocy quite fast, since he didn't really act, he preferred to watch and observe how people act

🔱 Your husband, like his brother, was normally busy with different things, from making sure his ocean's waves measured well according to schedule, to making sure that the paperwork he had to commission to his oldest brother was done, this guy was on average fairly busy

🔱 Though, whenever he would get a fair amount of time off, he would head off to his S/O and make sure they were okay

🔱 This guy had been dealing with your actions for many years, and in that time you haven't stopped getting a bruise every week, whether it be from hitting your tow or running into an object, he had never gotten a week off from your injuries

🔱 While he may not show it, Poseidon really does care about you, but, unlike his oldest, he protects you in another way

🔱 He doesn't baby-proof his home, he finds that to be dumb. If there is a creature that dumb in the world, they don't deserve life, his words, not mine! Though they do change if you guys have children

🔱 Instead, Poseidon just puts either a couple guards to be by your side to make sure you didn't somehow mess up an entire room just by getting scared by a, in your words, 'flying cucumber', or, he'll have you positioned around him so he could watch over you

🔱 The latter happens more often, though. And whenever you have to be around him, he'll make sure that you have something to mess with, just so you didn't end up destroying something else somehow

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

📨 Unlike many beings that you and him have met, Hermes loves how you get into trouble at random, it gives you an aura of mystery and difference, and he likes that

📨 Hermes loves to, when he can, watch you as you just walk around and get into trouble, like that one time where you ended up getting chased around by geese because you fell out of a tree while playing with Heracles and Ares when you were younger

📨 Whenever you would end up getting into trouble with another Deity, your husband would appear out of nowhere and distract the person as you escaped

📨 This guy loves writing songs in devotion of others, take the human fighters from Ragnarok into account, and for you? He has nearly five folders full of songs dedicated to you

📨 One of his favorite memories of you was when he was coming home from work and he stumbled upon two of his father's allies, Shiva, the head of the Hindu Pantheon, and Apollo, the Greek's God of the Sun

📨 The two men ran up to him dounced in a mixture of paint, glue, and a ton of multi-color glitter, and that alerted him that something happened, and it definitely would give him some kind of blackmail

📨 So, when they asked where you were, Hermes just chuckled and pat their shoulders, making sure his gloves didn't get any of the colorful mix on the white fabric, and he told them you were staying with Aphrodite for the night, despite knowing you were at home hiding from the angry duo

📨 When he eventually arrived home, he ushered you out and began to comfort you from your scared faze, which was understandable. And, when he asked if you wanted to see the photos he sneakily took, he chuckled as your eyes lit up

📨 You may be quite danger-prone and not the brightest star in the sky, but, he loved you for that

[snowviolettwhite]

I just need to rant about the antisemitism in leftist spaces and the erasure and re-writing of Jewish history and heredity from people who claimed to be for marginalized and oppressed people. Because I have no where to let it out. I feel betrayed by the leftists and libels, like I can no longer trust them or feel safe around them, they claimed to care about me and Jewish people but they lied and are out for violence.

You can be for a free Palestinian without antisemitism. Some people are being disgusting with their hatred for Jewish people and wanting the annihilation of the only Jewish state. You can be against corrupt governments but innocent people shouldn't suffer.

People are using what is happening as an excuse to be vocal about their antisemitism. What is more upsetting is the fact the people who consider themselves goodhearted and for the oppressed being disgusting to Jewish people and refusing to see them as human than the right wing conservatives. Because at least I know they are dangerous and they are not hiding behind fancy words and trying to erase and rewrite Jewish history and identity.

The only reason Jewish people are considered "white" is because for thousands and thousands of years the been forced to leave their homes, forced to convert, be raped or be murdered. Another reason is to erase the historical oppression which has been going on for over three thousand years.

Jewish people have not even been considered white for hundred years and depending on where you live in the world Jewish people are still not considered white. In their legal documents it was literally listed that they were Jewish, not Russian. My parents are not even old, they are only in their early 50s. My family is from Soviet Russia and immigrated to the USA in the 1990s. My parents were not considered white in Russia, they would sometimes experience hate crimes and bullying because of their Jewishness multiple times a day. One of the reasons my parents moved to the United States was because it was one of the safest places for Jewish people. After the collapse of the soviet union the violence and antisemitism was a lot worse.

Your blatant antisemitism in the free Palestinian movement is scaring Jewish people away from it and the from left. Fyi, after Black Americans, Jewish Americas are the largest group to vote democrat and be involve in activism according to statistics and history. People are not calling Black American people or Native American people white or mixed even though Christian Europeans did similar things to those groups as well.

Frankly, I personally feel conflicted when I have to check white in a box because it means European descent, my family has no European ancestry. It is most Middle Eastern, West Asian and North African.

Also, we can talk about how Christian Europeans stole the term Caucasian. The actually Caucasus region is in West Asia and Eastern Europe.

Also I want to state Judaism in a ethnoreligion. People who convert to a different religion can still experience antisemitism. People who have Jewish ancestry but raised as a different religion can still experience antisemitism. Non practicing Jewish people can still experience antisemitism. You can change religion but you can not can your ethic background and your family history.

More than one group of people can be indigenous to a certain place.

Jewish people can not talk about just being Jewish without antisemitic comments, recently saw someone claim an anti-Jewish protest was actually a pro-Palestinian protest despite the the leader of the event literal said it was an anti-Jew protest. A pro Palestinian group wanted to hold a protest at the Holocaust Museum and the antisemitism has been on the rise for years.

My grandparent are Holocaust survivors my grandpa was almost killed by a Nazi in his hometown twice, my grandma almost died from the same thing the killed Anne Frank, I had family that was buried alive.

It has not even been hundred years since the holocaust happened, so stop claiming their is such a thing as Jewish privilege. Jewish people are still being murdered and bombed and all these terrible things for being Jewish.

[coolestzed]

Alright, I’ve been holding this inside for years but I’m finally gonna say it.

Misako haters are actually fucking annoying at this point.

They always were to me, but now, they’re just OBJECTIVELY an annoyance. And they need to STOP.

They take literally ANY chance to slander her, even when it’s completely unwarranted. Like, I’d just look at a picture of her on Pinterest, and there’d be multiple comments going "the world’s worst mother". Or I’d see content about Koko and there’d always be comments comparing her and Misako and going like "Koko way better fuck Misako".

I’d even see a fucking meme and people would slander Misako. Like they couldn’t resist.

And that’s not even mentioning his people constantly make her seem way worse than she actually is. Im not gonna quote everything, but basically they act like she never does good things for Lloyd. That she doesn’t care about him at all! And it’s just- so WILDY out of character!! And it’s the same vice versa! I saw a funny Ninjago video the other day with a "your mom" joke and someone in the comments was like "jokes on you, Lloyd would never call Misako mom". I’m just?????? Yes he DOES????? ALL THE TIME???

People just act like their relationship is nonexistent! Like they don’t care about each other, or that Misako doesn’t care about Lloyd! Which is OBVIOUSLY not true!

People claim that she disappears every other season but the only seasons she was absent in are 12 and 13. Also, she has a job. She goes on expeditions. Obviously she’s not there 100% of the time. And she and Lloyd clearly spend time together off screen.

People don’t even acknowledge the reason why she left in the first place. They act like she dropped him off at a boarding school and dipped to take a vaycay. She was literally trying to stop her husband and son from having to fight to the death. You ever think about that? You ever think about how SHE felt in the situation? With her husband being consumed by evil and later being banished, and learning that he and their son would have to fight each other? She was HORRIFIED and GRIEVING! Ultimately she did it to save her family. It doesn’t make leaving Lloyd right but it’s understandable.

But apparently not to almost all of the fandom.

Most of y’all, completely ignore that, and everything else that came after season 2.

Misako constantly being worried about Lloyd in Tournament of Elements and Possession.

Both of them spending Day of the Departed together.

Her getting/building the Destiny’s Shadow as a birthday gift for Lloyd.

How she supported, fought beside, and risked her life for Lloyd in Hunted.

How she wanted to stay and fight with him during MoTO but only went inside because Lloyd urged her to protect the civilians.

Not to mention just their general interactions. THEY’RE ALWAYS HAPPY TO SEE EACH OTHER!!! Do you know how many times they hug?!

And this dialogue here:

"Aren’t you going to kiss your mother goodbye?"

"Mooom, we've-we've talked about this-"

WHAT MORE PROOF DO YOU NEED?!

Lloyd and Misako have a good, healthy and loving relationship. Misako has long since made up for her mistake and they’ve moved on.

Yet THE FANDOM REFUSES TO!!!

EVERYONE, TO THIS DAY, STILL TREATS HER LIKE THE FUCKING DEVIL!!!

I CAN’T EVEN COUNT THE NUMBER OF TIMES PEOPLE HAVE HAD OVERDRAMATIC TANTRUMS FROM HER JUST EXISTING.

IT MAKES ME SO UNREASONABLY ANGRY.

AND THE FACT THAT I’VE SOMEHOW BEEN SEEING EVEN MORE MISAKO HATE DURING AND AFTER MOTHERS DAY IS ACTUALLY APPALLING.

NOT EVEN FUCKING ENDEAVOR FROM MHA GETS THIS MUCH HATE AND HE’S DONE MUCH WORSE TO HIS FAMILY.

IT. HAS. BEEN. OVER. 16. SEASONS. AND. A. MOVIE.

GET. OVER. IT.

*deep breath*

Look, she’s not perfect. Obviously. She fucked up. But who in this series hasn’t? She came back, and she’s made sure to be a better mother to Lloyd. He forgave her, and they have a good relationship now. They’re close.

She wouldn’t be as hated if the writers didn’t do her dirty. Her introduction wasn’t handled the best, and having her and Lloyd have a more in depth discussion would’ve made the reunion and forgiveness feel less rushed and forced. That love triangle with Wu and Garmadon certainly didn’t do her any favors either. 😑

Regardless, her character’s gotten better over the seasons. Again, she and Lloyd and close and have a good relationship.

But hardly anyone acknowledges that, almost everyone in the fandom hyper fixates on that one mistake from years ago. They don’t pay attention to anything else. Like how she’s a better mother, or how she’s just a generally good person.

You aren’t supposed to judge characters or irl people solely on their past mistakes. Especially when they’ve already made up for them. Thats why the "Misako’s a horrible mother" statement is always bullshit to me.

Seriously, Misako’s been a part of Lloyd’s life longer than she’s been absent from it at this point.

The amount of passionate, unforgiving hate she gets is so undeserved and over the top. Too many people are projecting their own issues onto her. Or just being plain hateful. It’s not fair to define her entire character on a single mistake that she’s long made up for.

And it’s definitely not fair to people that actually like Misako. Often times on the few positive posts about her, there’d be Misako haters in the notes or reblogs complaining about her or insulting her, or just stating they hate her but love the content. And that is completely uncool and rude. It’s so unnecessary. You don’t do that, that’s so shitty. The again Misako haters have a habit of spouting unnecessary hate. Like it’s a terminal condition they have.

So, please, for the love of god, COOL IT. Stop and think, try to ACTUALLY look at her character without the veil of blind hatred.

If you still dislike or hate her, fine! But if you’re gonna detest her, at least hate her as she is and don’t make her worse than she actually is to justify hating her more.

And PLEASE stop bashing her at every turn, it’s annoying, upsetting, unwarranted, unnecessary, and just not good.

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

[factual-fantasy]

27 asks/walls of text where I ramble about FNAF <XDD

@ninaandthegames

AAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!! 😭😭💗💗

@taizarack

Actually I have 2 swap AUs. A true swap and a partial swap. In the partial swap, only Chica and Freddy switch places with Foxy and Bonnie respectively. The rest of the characters and world are slightly altered because of this change, but otherwise the story continues as normal. With Gregory coming to the Pizzaplex and the overall back story of the AU remaining the same.

Meanwhile in the true swap, which I haven't drawn yet.. everyone is paired with someone and swaps places with them. Freddy and Bonnie swap, Chica and Foxy swap, Roxy and Monty swap, even DJ and DA swap. And most importantly, Gregory and Vanessa swap. Which means that everyone's role and design are completely swapped.

And this means that Gregory is the adult sus security guard, and Vanessa is the scared little child living in the basement.. 👀👀

@jackal-lantern

I'm glad you like my Octonauts and submas stuff! :DD I was actually just thinking about Ingo and Emmet funnily enough XD I've been considering finally committing and playing Legends: Arceus, so that I can learn more about that world and Ingo. Also so that I could come back with more knowledge about the twins and make a proper AU :00

@ash-attxck

Thank you for asking first! And as long as it isn't directly taking my idea, then yeah that sounds fine to me! :}}

That would be cool yeah! :0

@toaster-os

To be completely honest, the multiple arms thing is mostly just a running joke <XD

But also magically growing a 3rd arm when ever I need it is very convenient XDD

@voids-call

That's a good question, hmm.. Well, I guess I'll go in order.

Gregory's fears cant really be revealed for lore reasons, but Freddy's can. Freddy has a lot of fear surrounding Gregory. He fears for Gregory's safety, his health.. but most of all, he's afraid of the others finding about about Gregory. If the others found out about him, surly they'd call security, right? If that happens Gregory would be taken away by Vanessa. Which would destroy Freddy..

Now Chica, Roxy, Monty, Foxy and Bonnie don't.. really have a #1 biggest fear that I can point out exactly.. or at least I cant think of any atm..

But DJMM? He doesn't have a biggest fear per se, but he is worried sick about the Daycare attendant. He hasn't seen him in months by this point. And no one has really told him anything straight. He has no idea why he's been gone for so long and if he's okay or not.. :(

And DA's biggest fear is definitely being caught in the dark. He knows very well that something is wrong with him and that he doesn't act like himself when in his moon mode. So he is terrified of the dark and does everything in his power to avoid it..

@andysalleyway

I do know of monster high actually! :00 I think its pretty neat, I've seen a lot of dolls being customized by Dollightful on YouTube. I highly recommend her! (Totally not a Dollightful advertisement XDDD)

(Post in question)

Thank you so much! :DD I'm a bit late to respond to this ask <XD But I'm all better now. My cold is gone and my leg healed up nicely :}}

And the cones name is Cody! :D

@burningmusicfunnygiant (Post in question)

Monty and Roxy do look different in this AU, although they still run the Golf course and Raceway respectively.

As for the bots meeting their other selves.. I image swap Monty would be rather surprised by his counter parts severe temper. OG Monty is so crushed by grief and shame that he's just constantly angry and lashing out. Also because of his shame he has closed himself off all these years which has only made his anger worse..

In the swap AU, Foxy was there for Monty. They became best friends and really helped each other through the grief and pain. Foxy helped Monty with his anger and in present day he's a really mellow person. Just sore with grief but not angry.

Meeting the others as well, OG Bonnie would be surprised by how.. mean his swapped form is.

Swapped Bonnie comes off as a real jerk. If you try to talk to him he'll either just stand there with a vacant stare and refuse to look at or talk to you. Or he'll be short and rude with you and just overall have a vibe that says "I don't want to talk to you, leave me alone". After every performance he just sneaks off to his room and stays there all night. If anyone tries to talk to him about coming out of his room more often or engaging with the group, he just snaps back. Telling them to leave him alone. His and Foxy's friendship has greatly suffered in this AU..

OG Bonnie would be floored by this version of himself. Bonnie would never speak to his friends like that. He would never brush them off if they were standing outside his door in tears. Begging to just talk to him. He couldn't believe the way his other self was acting..

But the thing is, Swapped Bonnie is just under an extreme amount of stress and pressure. He is an Animatronic that was designed only for smaller groups and a more quiet environment. He is a naturally slow animatronic and has a really relaxed personality. The only times he would be put on stage in front of a big crowd is every few weeks or so when the band would do a big performance together. Then right after it was back to the slow and relaxed bowling ally..

But after Freddy's accident, he was put on stage in Freddy's place. Bonnie is now on stage every day. Huge crowds, lights, noise, constantly on the move, go go go, noise noise noise- Bonnie come do this- Bonnie take this picture- Bonnie sing these 3 songs- Bonnie move that- Bonnie come over here- Bonnie sing happy birthday- Bonnie its time for another performance- Like-- it never ends!!

So whenever Bonnie has the time, he just completely shuts down. If he has a 5 minute break to just stand here? He's going to stand completely still and not do or say anything. If he gets to go to his room, he's going to turn off the lights and sit in complete silence for as long as he can. Any time anyone tries to talk to him he just pushes them away. The last thing he wants to do in his free time is more talking, more processing, more movement. He just wants to be where its dark and quiet..

Swap Bonnie is being pushed to his absolute processing limit, every. single. day. If you were constantly being overwhelmed and pushed beyond your limit every single day, for years? Well you'd probably be a grump and just wants some peace and quiet too..

I could go on with the others, but these paragraphs are already super long- <XD Maybe in another ask if anyone is interested!

@random-entity-363

In the OG au and the Partial swap AU, Sun and Moon are the same person. There are no separate animatronics or separate personalities. The "bug" just only really seems to effect DA when he's in his moon costume. And in the Partial swap, no it doesn't effect his Sunny side..

Although in the true swap? It might actually switch and effect his sunny side instead.. 👀👀

Foxy! :}}

@pinkbomb08

I have fully recovered from my cold, thank you! :} And you got it right! Foxy is Gregory's favorite character and he takes Freddy's role in protecting him :}}

@mr-damian-s-power

:DD Thank you so much!! I would like to come back sometime and do a deeper dive into the Wario bros. I had so many ideas for them that I never got around to.. <:/

@k-art8901

Bibi is a boy! :}

Aw, comparing yourself to people you perceive as better isn't going to help you feel better.. <:( Just keep trudging on with your own work and you'll improve over time. I believe in you! :}}

@joeyjambo122

Oh yeah, I've seen Bluey alllll over the place XD It seems like a really wholesome show! I've seen a lot of clips and art of it, although I haven't really gotten into it or watched it myself. My go to pre-school type show is Octonauts <XD

Maybe someday! :}}

:DD Thank you so much! Maybe I'll come back around to it sometime! :}}

@ur0neand0nly

0___o; Well uhh... so here's the thing about Paani. No offence to anyone who likes him, but personally? I reeeeeaaaaalllly don't like Paani. :x

The first episode just gave me a really sour taste in my mouth. And I just haven't been able to like him since 😅

I have intentions to add him to my Octonauts stuff in the future. But what I plan to do is re-write/make an AU about above and beyond which involves uh.. removing everything I don't like about it.. Including Paani. :x

I mean he'll still in it!-- But my AU will completely rewrite his character and remove all the things that people criticize him for. He will basically be Paani 2.0, and will be a completely different character... I feel bad for wiping his personality clean off my AU, but maaaaan I just cant like Paani, sorry! 😭😭

@hexyz09

I might not be understanding the question here, so my apologies-

My Gregory and canon Gregory are very different characters for a few reasons. For one, I completely rewrote the events of the game so they did not experience the same things while at the Pizzaplex.

I also made up a backstory for my Gregory that justifies him being more shy and skittish then canon Gregory seems to be.

I also didn't like how evil/gremlin-ly Gregory is in canon/fanon. So I thought screw it, I don't like canon/fanon Gregory being a lil turd, so I'm just going to make my own Gregory that acts the way I want him to <XD

@flowers-on-my-eyes

XD Aw, that's a nice idea. But poor Bonnie might be embarrassed to have a hook put on his stubby arm. It might just make him look tacky and draw more attention to it. Poor Foxy might have to keep his hook for now :x

You know, Bonnie likely did have a few custom bowling balls made just for him. But who knows where they are now.. Rockstar row? Somewhere in the bowling ally? In a box in the basement somewhere? They may never know.. :(

@euanpc

Aww!! That's so cute! Wet floor cone buddy for the win!!! 💗💗

Thank you! 😎😎😎

[ganondoodle]

( totk rant?)

i have talked alot about my problems with totk in detail, as most of you probably know by now- but there really is a vibe of big ambitions but then not committing to it throughout the game

they want to have that building mechanic in it no matter what in a world that isnt in any way build around it, mister "freedom = good, linear = bad" guy wanting to give you ultimate freedom in the game (which imo leads to it being nothing again) but not committing to it and it creates a really toxic loop of things being more punishing than rewarding

you can build a fuckton of weird vehicles, but big parts, ESPECIALLY the glider, is on limited time so you cant actually go anywhere you want; they know giving you absolut freedom will remove any possible challenge- so they limit it by making the glider part timed, but then they cant do that for every single part bc it would be almost impossible to create anything that works well when every part is on a timer and you dont know how much of its lifespan is left bc you accidentally hit a fan once so now its uneven with the other one AND the more parts you have the more it uses battery, it makes sense, so you cant build soemthign super overpowered right at the start and its just kinda logical, but it leads to you being incentivised to build something with the fewest parts that dont have a timer-

then theres the battery power, which they try to limit by putting its upgrades behind multiple different currency exchanges, which is frustrating and leads to alot of grinding and gets overpowered really fast (it works against itself too that said currencies are all placed in the most undeveleoped and repetetive area of the game and are all never involved in anything interesting, its reused old enemy camps and the same mines everywhere, theres not a single reward in the underground that actually feels rewarding imo)

then you get the autobuild thing, so you can skip the building part of the building mechanic that is the main selling point of tha darn game, bc they know it can get frustrating to rebuild your things over and over so they give you a skip button for that if you are one of those players that doesnt like it BUT THEN they cant jsut let you do it for free so they give it a price, either spend the same currency you need for the exchange for the one you need for battery upgrades or spend parts you collected- both of which are things players generally save up and refuse to use (like the -never use any health potions bc what if i need it more at some point- thing is a problem for a reason)

then theres the added thing of the building stuff despawning incredibly quickly, im gonna guess its otherwise a performance problem (that the game is already struggling hard with) but it makes the entire already bad loop of trying to fix a problem with bandaids over and over even worse, you dont want to go too far away from your vehicles bc it will despawn and waste all that you used to build it, its like a leash to you stopping you from actually using it for more freedom- and potentially adds another annyoance bc you might try to bring it with you as far as you can, a monster truck in the depths you spend all your parts on gets stuck on the first bits of terrain you run into and you desperately try to get it out without destroying it, and if you cant you need to spend a ton of resources to build it again, even with autobuild

which is how you get the hoverbike, stupidly overpowered and boring but doing anything else is just less efficient in every way, it uses the least amount of battery, never breaks, is only 3 parts to rebuild

(i know me in particular doesnt enjoy the building in totk at all, for all those reasons and more ...... shiekah ........ and i know you CAN still choose to doing it more creatively, but you never need to, its entirely based around YOU making it fun for yourself, and i dont think its that controverisal to say a game should be fun and challenging without you having to create all the fun yourself and set yourself limit it all yourself)

similar goes for the dungeons, they heard you want the dungeons of old times back, but their strict adherance to freedom (which they themsleves contradict) leads to them being more breakable and less dungeony than even the titans in botw, they cant make it linear, thats BAD, so you can do any puzzle in any order, it cant build on any of the others bc you need to be able to do it when you want (the only one going slightly against that is the lightning one? maybe?), totks dungeons dont even limit that you cant climb them (even the titans in botw recognized that makign it easy to break so they are made of the same unclimbable material like the shrines and other shiekah tech) and the new abilities make them laughably easy to break ( .. im not even gonna mention the water temple one bc ... you dont even need to do anything there to break it to make it easier)

they wanted to cater to people wanting old dungeons, but didnt commit to it, making them WORSE dungeons than the titans with the only bonus being they got different designs and a longer build up to it (that often feels more like artificial filler than actually part of it ... like the missing lore tablet at the zoras and the missing part is a few steps away from it at best)

(ALL THE WHILE they DO limit you in SHRINES, you cant climb the walls again, for some reason, you can climb any other sonau structure though, why not that? idk, but dont limit it enough either bc you can break it all in really cheap and unsatisfying ways with ultrahand and time reversal alone- and they CANT limit those bc those abilities are the main ways to solve the 'puzzles'- botws abilities were .. well, limited in what they could do making them much more balanced, but moving sth with ultrahand and then stepping on it and time reversing it can be the boring solution to any 'puzzle', the best and only really good shrines are the ones that take all you shit bc it wactually forces you to be creative BC ITS LIMITING YOU)

(funnily enough a big possible reason why they removed the bombs from botw is bc of the glitches with it ...... like the new stuff isnt even worse and you dont even have to try lol)

people speculated on there being underground exploration due to the first trailer? people are worried about reusing the surface? ok they put the entirety of the surface map into the game again, but dont commit to it being a full thing, its horribly underdeveloped and filled with either nothing or reused filler material, while also neglecting changing anything substantial about the surface, and then the sky isalnds they even reduced and really there isnt anything of substance on there either besides the tutorial (hey, seriously, if one of botws most defining feature is its wide and empty sky why the hell would you decide to use that same map to put in your sky islands idea in), not commiting to one idea but doing all of them badly

ganondorf? well, they sure put him in there, but really what does he do? fuck all, the entire actual game hes jsut marinating in his own miasma juice for no reason, he doesnt have any presecne in the game, all he gets its a few scenes in the "story" that are told through memory cutscenes in a stupidly mega distant past i dont give a fuck about and all he does is go through the most stereotypical villain checklist of both actions and speech, they want ganondorf in there but dont commit to him ACTUALLY being there (listen i love ganondorf but really calamtiy ganon was more interesting than totk ganondorf ok im SORRY they did him so dirty)

they want dragon zelda and link 'losing' his arm be a big epic sacrifice but then .. again, dont commit to it, they tell you its oooh so irreversible and whatever and then at the end just fukcing reverse it, with no build up at all, and NONE of your own input, it just happens, and its not JUST zelda but also links arm, reversing it BOTH even and you dont even need to have all shrines (that are supposedly to cleanse your arm of miasma, i guess thats a non problem if you just stab the source of it to death instead)

they want it to be a sequel but also its own game, not committing to either and leaving us with this weird .... more alternative universe thing, vague references to botw but also acting like it never happened, slight changes, like zeldas hair, to make her seem different when shes exactly the same (you cant imply waifu zelda would ever age and not look like a little doll) and ignoring anything about her character from botw (no im serious, ooh shes nerdy for 3 minutes at the start and one time in a written thing from some servant of da royals in the past and thats it, interest in the shiekah? whos shiekah?- if anything her character is reversed, really having even less agency than in botw, that one decision to dragon is like, it really doesnt matter and not really her decision bc she didnt have a choice and it gets reversed anyway without her even remembering)

even retreading all of botws points (but doing it worse imo), but then attempting to differentiate itself from it by removing a big thing that made it what it is (shiekah) without giving it any or any sensible explanation among more, not committing to either sequel or AU and so doing both incredibly badly

(not quite the point but what i have been questioning for a while ... they way raurus abilities work ... so do all sonau have those? was it just a normal thing to have? could all sonau just glue shit together and jump through ceilings? he never uses anything of that when we see him? why is it just in the shrines at the start and its like .. he just gives it to you ...?? huh??is it part of his arm .. jewelry??)

(anyway, tin foil hat moment but it just feels like either there was a huge internal fight about everything or they neglected it in favor for something else, like say, a movie that earns them billions and is faster and cheaper to make than a game... or just dont care anymore i guess, idk which is worse tbh)

[fastlikealambo]

Connubium.|| Coriolanus Snow x Black Fem Reader

Chapter Two

table of contents.

Chapter One.

Summary: Stealing from The Capitol is a deadly offense, yet you’ve done it more times than you can count but when you do something you should not have done, Volumnia Gaul decides a fate for you that might just be worse than death.

Notes: This takes place post The Ballad of Songbirds And Snakes and Coryo is in his last year at The University, studying under Dr. Gaul. This will not follow canon, I’m not an expert on all the lore so I apologize if I get things wrong.

Disclaimer: You know Coriolanus is a POS, I know Coriolanus is a POS, please don’t yell at me because this is just a fun little story, something for thee hotties, and  if you feel that strongly against President Snow, please let me know if you’d like me to sign you up for tessarae.

Warnings: blood, violence, poison.

Thanks for the love on chapter one! If you want to see chapter three, comment or reblog, feedback makes me want to continue!

Perhaps before you begin those games, you should understand how you got in the protective arms of one Coriolanus Snow.

You had three rules.

Never be seen.

Never take what you could not carry.

Never intervene.

How did the daughter of teachers from District 6 make it all the way to and from the capitol not once, not twice, but multiple trips over multiple years?

Desperation and sick parents do it every time.

It’s thought that most folks from District 6 hate transportation but the glassy eyes and wet coughs from the people you loved most in the world had you sneaking onto trains, hovercraft, anything that moved when you aged out of tesserae. 

Some thought you’d take over teaching for your ma and pa, you certainly had the education but none of the patience and sugar that is required to work with children.

What was the point of them knowing about a nation that would bleed them before it would feed them?

There were no books on your mother’s shelf that would tell the truth of Panem: 

The best future was no future.

This is tedious, let’s just skip to the  show.

“Hippity, hoppity, you took someone’s property.”

You weren’t exactly sure what a jail cell in The Captiol looked like but a science lab with bright lights and sterile white walls made you question if this was just a scenic detour before getting shot by Peacekeepers.

Peacekeepers forced you to your already bruised knees as Dr. Volumnia Gaul descended a staircase with a pep in her step. You had seen the Head Gamemaker on tv once being interviewed during The Games and you hadn’t forgotten that face since.

   “Not only did you take Capitol property, you destroyed property, you injured multiple citizens, all for an Avox. I’m sure if it still had a tongue it would have definitely said thank you for all your help. I know, why don’t we ask her?” Gaul said, skipping to a shelf and pulled a large circular jar into her arms and placed onto a table spinning it in front of you.

The head of the Avox you had tried to help faced you, eyes open in the fluid.

It all had happened so quickly, you had waited for a couple to leave their home for the evening before scaling the side and entering through an open window one of their guards who kissed with his teeth left open.  You followed your rules, had the fancy fur underwear in hand, and headed out the window when you noticed the couple had a son.

A son that liked to hit a woman who couldn’t speak, let alone fight back.

It all went downhill from there.

   “Are you happy now? Did the little thief save you?” Dr. Gaul asked the head, lifting the jar to her ear for a moment, before proceeding shaking it from side to side as if the head was shaking itself to say “no.”

 You gave no inclination of fear, forcing your mind to pretend Gaul was holding a jar of sugar instead and wet your cracked lips to speak.

“If you’re going to kill me, may I ask that you do it now?” 

 The peacekeeper raised their gun to bring it down upon your head but Gaul merely lifted her hand to stop the guard and cocked her head in front of you.

  “Good skin and clear eyes which tells me you haven’t seen a drop of Morphling in your life, good girl!  Let’s see those teeth! ” Dr. Gaul’s gloved fingers wrench your mouth open, quick enough to avoid your attempt to bite down hard.

  “Not a crooked canine in sight, what a marvel of district 6 dentistry! I’ve been watching you for the last year and a half, you know.  At first I thought you were a rebel spy lurking here and there in a sad attempt at revolution but you have a pattern: you seduce, you steal, you scatter. Never the same capitol house, never the same loot, but always the same goal: self-servitude.  You, little girl, are smart, silver tongued, and most importantly, you are selfish.”

Was the doctor incorrect?

You had stolen enough and traded enough to keep your parents healthy months ago, why did you keep coming back here?

  “What do you want from me?” You asked quietly as Gaul finished her examination of you and hopped into a chair.

“By yourself you managed to steal anything you wanted, charm anyone you wanted, all while going unnoticed in The Capitol for years.  Instead of cutting out that silver tongue of yours, I’m going to use it for the future of Panem.” Dr. Gaul said, damn near giddy.  

Gaul pressed a button that dimmed the lights in the lab and brought a screen down from the ceiling. In a few short seconds, the screen came to life and footage of a blonde man in a crimson suit and coat going about his day, sharp face never once cracking a smile.

   “Let me introduce you to Coriolanus Snow, top student, heir of Strabo Plinth, and the product of exemplary Capitol breeding. He’ll be graduating from The University in a month and in a few short years with proper backing, he will be President of Panem. He’ll be taking a position at President Ravinstill’s office upon graduation but before that he’ll need to take a spouse. That, my pretty thief, is where you come in.” Gaul said.

   “Don’t you have Capitol people for this? What about that ‘fine capitol breeding’? A district girl such as myself would only sully that.”  You said slowly as if talking to an infant.

  “With society families there’s dowries, overinvolved mothers, there isn’t time to mold one in the image Panem requires.  Why pin a veil on a peacock when I can dress up a viper instead? For the good of Panem, you will charm Coriolanus Snow, you will court him, you will spy on him, and in one month, you will marry Coriolanus Snow, little thief.”

You’d rather die.

Wouldn’t you?

    “And if your precious protege can smell District on me?” You snarled and a peacekeeper made you regret that decision immediately.

   “ He’ll never know. You and Mr. Snow share the same look of distinct dissatisfaction in your eyes, dissatisfaction is a bitter root but it can be pulled, can be twisted into something powerful and no Capitol dove can accomplish that. Only those who have tasted blood in their mouths desire it again.”

  “And if I refuse?”

“It’s easier to show you.” Gaul said, clicking another button. The video of Snow vanished and in its place was the grainy footage of a man and a woman hooked up to various tubes and wires.

It took longer than it should have for you to realize those were your parents.

  “You’re not the only one who can slip in and out of people’s homes, little thief.  Just a little something I’m working on in their morning porridge and by this afternoon, their lungs belonged to me.  This is a live feed by the way, so if you’d like to refuse, you are welcome to do so and we can watch your ma and pa stop breathing together. I’ll get my milk and crackers! ”

There was no guarantee she wouldn’t just kill them tomorrow or the next day or the day after that.

A rebel would stand up and refuse Dr. Gaul no matter the cost.

A fool would plead for their life and the lives of their loved ones.

Neither a fool nor rebel, you were something else entirely.

A survivor.

You stood up, shoulders back, head up, and completely ignored the sounds of the machines keeping your parents alive to look straight at Dr. Gaul.

  “When do we start?”

Coriolanus Snow studied people.

He studied his classmates, his professors, he knew the routines and habits of everyone he did and did not come in contact with on a daily basis whether they knew or not.  There was a great tragedy in the fact that he would have made an amazing officer with sight like his. Not a thing got past him, nothing useful anyway.

Except you.

He had never seen a coat so cut to the human body before outside of Tigris’ handiwork, from across the street he studied the exact spot he could put his hands on that coat, on your body. The book obscured your face but it mattered not to Coryo as no one with a coat like that could be anything short of divine.

And as Coriolanus Snow was never wrong, he was given a glimpse at that magnificent visage when you dropped your book in the street, those full lips and smooth brown cheeks, oh what a vision that befell him.

A vision that was soon to be flattened by a car.

If he was honest with himself, had you been someone he knew, someone he had previously studied, perhaps he would have let the car hit you, but this was useful for him, he’d make the Captiol News that night with Flickerman spinning tales of his heroism.

He could not let blood spoil such beauty.

He surprised himself at how quick he was, one moment on the top of the university steps, the next tumbling to the side of the road, his body covering yours as you both came to stop, his hand on the back of your head to keep it from slamming into the curb.

Words died on his lips, the question he had mentally prepared to ask with careful false concern left him the moment he truly looked into your eyes, and Coriolanus did not only want to know if you were injured.

He wanted to know everything.

He carefully removed himself from your person, attempting to keep the displeasure at his previously perfect now filthy wardrobe and scraped hands from his features as he settled beside you.

 “Are you hurt?” He asked, impressed at the hint of actual sincerity that bled into his voice as you sat up gingerly.

“I don’t think so.  Thank you, I wasn’t paying attention, are you hurt?” You asked, a voice like velvet that seemed to surround him and he shivered as he took inventory of his own injuries and shook his head.

 True to their nature, not one person on the street offered to lend a hand and a Peacekeeper was making their way to them. He would hand you off to a peacekeeper and that would be that.

He did not want that.

So he did what he did best, took control of the situation and an opportunity arose when he heard you admit a small moan of pain, eyes wide and fixated on your ankle.

  “May I?”  He asked and you nodded.

 Coriolanus removed your shoe, tender fingers brushing over the swollen skin and he briefly wanted nothing more than to know what his lips would feel like on that silky skin.

He cleared his throat and regained control of himself, sitting straight up.

“ It’s not broken.  I don’t live far from here, my grandmother can take a look at that if you’d like? I promise you’ll be perfectly safe.” 

Grandma’am would rather lick a tribute than tend to an injured stranger but you didn’t need to know that.

“Are you sure? You don’t have to go to the trouble.” You said, attempting to slowly stand, crumpling just enough for Coriolanus to quickly steady you before gently putting your arm around his shoulder and his other under your knees, lifting you into his arms.

“It’s no trouble at all. I’m Coriolanus Snow, it’s a pleasure to be of service.” Coryo said with that winning Snow smile, adjusting you in his arms with care.

After all, roses were to be cradled.

Until that day, Coriolanus Snow noticed everything and everyone, useless and useful. 

Yet while focused on you, he had not noticed that the car that had almost killed you both was nowhere to be found.

That’s chapter 2! If you’d like this story to continue, please comment, reblog, give me feedback! Let me know what you think about this story! Thank you for reading.

[the-kr8tor]

Im all good to put the ideas into multiple asks! I’m so glad u liked my ideas 🥰🥰!!

First one was TTN hobie and reader when they have reunited and they r going on a date after being separated for so long and just spending time together and hanging out

-🕊️ anon

Ly 😘 thank you again for the ttn requests!! ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: no use of Y/N, No specific physical description of the reader, drinking, a bit suggestive, TTN! Hobie, TTN! Reader, set after the epilogue.

Thread the Needle Masterlist

TTN Oneshots Masterlist

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

"My favourite? Piña Colada" you nurse a cranberry vodka in your hand, voice whispering in Hobie's ear so that he can hear you through the loud chatter inside the busy pub.

Your back is resting on the chipping wooden wall of the ancient White Horse pub, body fully turned towards Hobie, your hand comfortably lying on the small of his back. He practically squishes you inside the booth with his arm around your shoulder, fingers absentmindedly kneading over your nape. Legs touching yours, a smile never leaving his lips, half full pint forgotten in front of him.

He would've preferred a much quieter place for your first date back home, but you wanted to visit his old haunts, and you were in a drinking mood. Hobie doesn't seem to care though, as long as you're with him, he's golden. Even if you suggested going to the sewers or God forbid a Mall, he would've said yes in a heartbeat. Because it's you, fresh from L.A. you who haven't finished unpacking yet even though you've been home for three days. He doesn't blame you though, how could you find the time to unpack when you two are busy snogging and reacquainting yourselves.

"Thank fuck" he chuckles. "Thought it would be worse like a can of whatever piss water they 'ave"

You roll your eyes, "Piña Colada is really good. I can make you one if you like"

"Sure, as long as it's not whiskey sour" Hobie mimics an American accent with his last word causing you to laugh out loud above the prattle of the pub.

"Do that again" you poke his side. "Come on"

"Fuck off, that's a one time thing" he hides his smile with his pint.

"You know back in America I had so many pints, it's insane" He raises a brow, knowing you're not much of a drinker. You continue on with your sentence. "Pints of ice cream"

"Is it too late for you to go back? Because I can ask for you–"

Leaning slightly, you kiss the corner of his lips as an apology for your attempt at humour. "I know, horrible joke. I blame the drink"

"Not the company though, right?" He says against your lips, long eyelashes fanning over eyes, looking down at your besotted face.

"Great company, ten out of ten" you press a cranberry filled kiss fully on his lips, lingering for only a moment. In that tiny booth with the squeaky leather cushions, you feel like you and Hobie are the only people in the world. "What do you say we go home." Whispering, you bat your eyelashes at him.

His eyes sparkle in the low light, "And?"

You don't miss his knowing tone so you decide to tease him more. "Or we can go to my office and ask for me to get transferred back to L.A."

"I like your first joke better, too soon, love" Hobie dramatically touches his chest like he's been hurt.

"You did it first!" You finish your drink, hand grabbing your bag from the table.

"And I did it better than you" Hobie takes your coat for you, standing up, reaching to help you out the booth.

Looking up at him, you smile mischievously. "Do an American accent first"

He rolls his eyes, "no" flexing his fingers, he feigns annoyance.

"Please? Just say one thing and I'll get up"

With a huff and a hidden smile, he surrenders. "Whiskey sour" Hobie does his best impression of an American man who's impatient to get his drink from the bartender.

Giggling, you still sit in the booth. "Say 'wassup, dude'"

"Don't push it, love or I'll start calling you bruv again"

Sliding out, you take his outstretched hand. "If you're into that then I'm open to try it." You laugh at your own quip.

"What have they done to my Gromit?" hand in hand, you and Hobie weave through the crowd whilst he guides you with his tender hold.

You snuggle closer to him, avoiding a guy with ten drinks on his tray. "Same Gromit, I promise"

"Love you still even if you weren't" He whispers back with fondness.

[incorrectsibunaquotes]

I wanna preface this by saying Joy went too far in certain aspects of her S2 arc, but the Joy vs Nina situation would have never escalated that much in canon had Nina not been the Chosen One.

Like hear me out: the entire reason Joy was kidnapped in the first place was because she was supposed to be the Chosen One. And honestly, we’re never told for how long she was being told this. It might have been dropped on her only once she was back at home, or they might have told her way before then and she just didn’t give it too much thought before it suddenly became real. We have no real idea. But either way, her isolation from all of the friends she held dear, and the essential imprisonment in her own home was all due to being this supposed Paragon.

And she obviously doesn’t want to be the Chosen One. She says it multiple times in S1, to the point of tears and screaming. Joy is glad when it turns out not to be her, but it’s obvious that she basically went through that entire ordeal, missed a whole year of crucial social development in her actual home (bc lbr she probably spent more time at Anubis growing up than she did her actual house), all for nothing.

And to make matters worse, the actual Chosen One was walking around free as a bird, making friends with all Joy’s friends, and managing to capture Fabian’s affections. So here’s this girl that Joy doesn’t know at all, who has cemented herself in the daily lives and hearts of Anubis House residents, and she happens to hold the role that Joy had been forced to play to her detriment.

That’s what stings most, I think, though Joy says it’s about Fabian. Most of her actual hurt and actual retaliation comes from feeling excluded by Sibuna. “I’ve seen things, remember? Things we don’t talk about because you and your little Scooby gang shut me out.” She is most angry because her isolation never stopped.

Of course, it doesn’t help that she was in love with Fabian, and now the actual Chosen One (who in Joy’s mind has practically gotten everything handed to her) is with him.

I firmly believe that if Nina was just a normal girl and there wasn’t a mystery going on, but she still was dating Fabian, Joy would not have gone so far. It’s not right that she went that far in the first place, of course, but she was justifiably angry at the injustice of her situation. She should have turned that anger on the adults who got it wrong in the first place, but it’s way easier to punch on your level than to punch up at grown adults with power over you. It’s a real shame that Nina got caught in the crossfire of Joy’s war with the world, because they really could have been such good friends.

I made an edit of her that I think gets my point across better than this, that’s too large to post on tumblr so here is the link: https://www.instagram.com/reel/C5_a8GhO0Xg/?igsh=MWlncmRsdWJxdHd6NA==

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[barrenclan]

I think overarching plot is relatively easy to come up with, but how do you come up with smaller more filler-like events for your stories, like the plum-bee spats and corm training with egret? I’m having some trouble filling in the flesh of my own story, and was wondering if you had any insight.

Oh boy, real softball questions! Haha, but I can try to give you an answer for these.

I think the best way I can explain the first question is how I wrote PATFW, since it was much more heavily structured than my other comic (and more recent).

So, I started with the premise, the characters, and the general arcs I wanted each of them to go through. The premise helped me to establish the guidelines of this world, what kind of tone I would have for the story - moody and mysterious, so I knew that comedy would not be as frequent and characters might often take a turn towards more realistic drama.

The arcs of each character came with understanding what I wanted to do with them - do I want this person to get better, or get worse? Will they be a force of antagonism, or a side character, will they live or die? What point am I trying to get across with this character? Those kind of questions helped me know how they would interact with each other as well, so for instance a character like Daffodilpaw being friendly and cheerful, with her arc, would interact a specific way with dramatic and egotistical Beeface, for her arc. (Sorry I can't be more specific, but the comic's not done yet.)

Once you have a strong understanding these things - tone and characters - it's not too hard to let the story percolate in your mind. There's nothing wrong with just letting ideas float around in the back of your brain, instead of trying to force them all out right away. I actually wrote the ending of PATFW a couple months after I had started the comic, because the characters naturally led me to that conclusion. Here's an example of what I'm talking about with tone and characters leading to a small interaction that I hadn't previously planned like you asked about:

I have Rainhaze, and Ranger. Rainhaze is kind and brave, but currently very lost. Ranger is sadistic and enjoys feeling in control. So, I need a plot reason for Ranger to have not found BarrenClan. Well, Rainhaze being self-sacrificial, told him that BarrenClan all died and he's the last survivor. When Ranger finds out, it makes him feel tricked - he doesn't like that, so he threatens to kill Rainhaze. Rainhaze is self-sacrificial, as previously mentioned, and is now showing some suicidal tendencies, so he doesn't care if Ranger kills him. But Ranger then refuses to do so, having regained control, and twists the knife by letting him live while feeling suicidal. That's a pretty grim scene, which fits with the tone of the story well.

There you go - that's an interaction I hadn't plotted out the story with, but I was able to come to naturally by understanding the characters, the way their arcs are moving, and the tone of the story.

For this question, it's a little more tricky. The sad, honest answer is that there is no reliable way to do this. That's kind of how the Internet works. Unless you pay money to advertise, I suppose, you can't push a button that says "popularity points" and have it spit out readers. And sadly, sometimes movement only comes after you grind away, day after day, and don't give up. Here's a few things that might help, though.

Use multiple platforms. It's simple, but the more places you post, the more eyes you'll catch. Different websites/apps have different readerbases, too - Webtoons, ComicFury, Instagram, DeviantArt, Tumblr, Hiveworks, and others all have varying levels of attention and algorithims, and work that you have to do to keep up with an audience. Find whatever feels right for you and focus on one or two, but keep the others in your periphery.

Be consistent. People are more likely to actually keep up with a comic that updates every single week, rather than that posts a page or two and then ghosts for a month. Cough, cough, maybe you'll say - but I always set out with this comic to be a side project, and posting asks like this helps me continue to engage with an audience even when I'm not completing issues.

DON'T CARE! I know that seems like counterproductive advice, but seriously; you have to be okay with the fact that you might not get any attention. If you make a comic with the set goal of being popular, or even just worry about having readers, you're going to make yourself miserable. Obviously having attention is more fun, and more motivating, I won't deny that. But you need to be just as happy making a comic for 3 people than 3000 to make something you're proud of and not burn out in the process. If you're making something earnest, fun, interesting, passionate - people will come eventually.

[tillytimeblog]

if the sea of monsters was the book where i thought the ending was mostly good vibes, the battle of the labrynth is the opposite. i mean all of percy’s friends are going through something personally traumatic/devastating at some point. some of these things get resolved, and some…don’t.

tyson meets his hero, but briares is a shell of himself and even when tyson risks his life to save briares, briares still has given up all hope and just walks out on tyson and the rest of the group. plus tyson finds out the rest of the hundred handed ones have faded into nothingness. we don’t really get much insight into tyson but you can tell it’s constantly on his mind because a lot happens between meeting briares and meeting hephaestus yet tyson feels that is the one very important thing he has to talk about.

clarisse had found chris, driven to madness by minos in the labrynth, and can do nothing but watch him slowly deteriorate worse and worse. we only get a glimpse of chris’s condition but it’s obvious it’s bad, which makes seeing clarisse’s private care for him and her softest side for the first time hurt all the more. clarisse is another person we don’t get much insight to at all, but we know her own experiences in the labrynth plus what happened to chris was enough to make her storm out of the council and swear off the labrynth forever, plus make percy promise to kill daedalus on sight.

rachel only really shows up towards the end, but being thrown into the deep end in the world of monsters getting held captive by swordpoint in the arena plus witnessing pan’s death as the daughter of a huge land developing father is obviously a lot to handle for her. plus she is totally aware of the impact she is having on percy and annabeth’s relationship (way more than percy does) and she clearly doesn’t want to make things rough for them at all, yet she still leaves needing reassurance from percy and a agreement to stay in touch, almost like a lifeline. percy was her sole introduction to the whole truth about the world of monsters after all.

speaking of pan…poor grover, man. his whole life’s ambition was to find pan and save the wild, and he arrives just in time to see the very end of pan’s life. honestly, grover gets a lot of development we only see a glimpse of too. he gets a girlfriend (juniper rocks btw), he spends months out searching, he stands up to the council of cloven elders multiple times, and he takes up the burden of saving the wild upon himself and any satyrs or others willing to listen to him. annabeth says it best when she says grover is growing up, he really is the most mature of the group and he shows it by chanelling his grief into more productivity than anyone else

nico is dealing with his sister’s death very poorly, seeking solace in the worst places (minos) and placing blame where it shouldn’t go. he’s just so, so angry and distraught on the outside and the inside, for numerous reasons. there’s really isn’t a lot to say about him that isn’t already said in the book tbh, nico gets a lot of attention because nico is the number one thing on percy’s mind besides the quest since he feels responsible for nico running away. so we get a lot of explicit nico content as opposed to implicit content for tyson/clarisse/grover. i will say that nico being convinced by minos into going back into the maze specifically to save percy, only to be tricked and captured, hurts much more knowing what we learn about nico much later on

and then there’s annabeth. man, she just has it so, so rough and it hurts so much to read all the different ways life has it in for her. she’s chosen to lead her first quest, the thing she’s wanted to do since she was seven, and everything about it is just terrible. we don’t know this until the next book but luke has already recently visited her and offered for them to run away together, and she turned him down. then she meets janus and is offered to make a choice, which definitely reminds her of the choice she made to leave luke behind. she gets her prophecy and the last line is ‘lose a love to worse than death.’ she’s so shaken by this and doesn’t tell anyone about it, not before or during or after the quest until the very end of summer when she tells percy. she chooses to travel in a group of four knowing it’s unlucky because she really needs the comfort of all the people who care about her. and then she loses them all in the span of like, an hour. tyson and grover split from annabeth and percy even though annabeth is insistent splitting up is a bad idea, then percy blows himself and a volcano up right after annabeth kisses him for real for the first time. she has no one left, and she feels like she has failed. all she can do is go back to camp half blood and cry and wait. for two whole weeks!! for two weeks she probably thought that all three of the people she had left in the world had died because they came with her on the quest!!! or percy at the very least, since grover and tyson could just be stuck in the maze. but percy is absolutely presumed dead, since he ends up crashing his own funeral. annabeth gets to be happy the guy she kissed is back for all of maybe five minutes, because she first realizes he was stranded with calypso and then he tells her his plan to navigate the maze is to call up the cute mortal girl he barely knows so she can do the thing annabeth, daughter of athena, couldn’t. nice going percy. how do you not realize why annabeth is mad at you, dude? anyways, after all that…luke becomes host to kronos. which he warned annabeth about. which wouldn’t have happened had annabeth chose to run away with him and escape his destiny. and because of that choice to not run away again, the guy who was her family after she ran away originally is gone for good. and then what does she do after telling percy the final line of her prophecy, and making enemies with hera? she runs away. before percy has the chance to say something and try to bridge the distance between them. why? we don’t know for sure since it’s percy’s pov and not hers. maybe it’s because they haven’t been able to talk about luke all summer. maybe it’s because percy told rachel he’d like to keep in touch. maybe her heart couldn’t bear to hear him say anything about luke, or rachel, or the two of them. or maybe it’s because she had already read the great prophecy years ago, and knew no matter what he could say or promise, percy was fated to die a year from now anyway.

[storiesofsvu]

Solace in Solitude Ch 11

Emily Prentiss x reader warnings: language, mentions of alcohol and tobacco, smut. Welcome to the beginning of the time jump chapters. in my mind each ** means that it's been at least two weeks since the last bit.

“Do you ever stop working?” Emily’s voice rang through the apartment, jolting you out of your hyper fixation spiral of the day when you glanced up at her.

“Huh?”

“You look like you’re cramming for finals right now.” She swiped a pastry off the counter, dropping down into the chair perpendicular beside the couch as you glanced around the room, letting out a small, embarrassed laugh.

“Oh god.” You dropped your hand into your face for a moment while she chuckled, what had started out as some research to combat the boredom of the day ended up with a bit of an explosion, and Emily was right. You had multiple pages open on your laptop, tablet beside you with a medical journal open and a pile of notebooks and textbooks spread out on the couch and coffee table. “Sorry, I didn’t meant to turn the apartment into a dorm room.”

You began to flip closed some of the books you were no longer working, piling them up so you weren’t taking up so much of the shared space. Groaning when a handful of high lighters toppled from inside a notebook to the floor.

“Don’t worry about it.” Emily shrugged, leaning forward to scoop them back up, dropping them into an empty coffee mug on the table, “what’s got you so invested?”

“Boredom.” You replied with a huff of a laugh.

“Okay but when I’m bored on a day off I end up numbing my brain with stupid tv not pouring over case files or true crime. You should’ve gotten out of the house, take advantage before the weather turns to shit.”

“I’m not just bored on days off, that’s the problem.” You sighed, relaxing back into the couch as you started to stretch out your body, realizing just how stiff your muscles and joints were.

“A trauma surgeon who’s bored at work? Okay, we definitely have a problem.” Emily half teased from her chair and you rolled your eyes.

“I don’t get a lot of patients out here and honestly being on your feet for that long is tedious enough but when you aren’t really in it anymore, it’s even worse.”

“Looking for a career change?”

“No.” You laughed, “before I got shipped out here I was working on start ups for a couple of different trials and I’ve always been super passionate about those kind of things. The medical field is incredible already but there’s so much that we either don’t know or can’t execute properly and figuring those things out just makes my brain happy.”

“You were a really big science nerd in high school, hey?”

“Oh shut up.” You tossed a pad of post it’s at her with a laugh.

“The hospital have any programs like that here?”

“Not really.” Your nose scrunched, “that’s what the other half of the research was, finding a home base to set up. There’s one in Germany that has insane tech but the language barrier has been tough enough trying to get information, a handful across the UK and a couple in France but nothing here.”

“Are you looking for an out?” She asked, cocking a brow in your direction and you shrugged.

“No... I mean as far as I know I’m here ‘til you’re cleared, I just… wanna have a back up plan, ya know?”

“Yeah…” she nodded, tugging her lip into her mouth and chewing on it as her gaze drifted out the window. You watched her for a minute, the way her brow scrunched, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly as she began to get lost in thought.

“Are you gonna go back?” You asked, almost timidly, continuing to watch her and her head tilted when she registered your voice.

“Hmm?”

“To your team? Or like, DC in general. From what I’ve gathered the world is basically your oyster.”

“It’s complicated.” She replied, her eyes still latched on the afternoon sky, “they were my family and I felt more at home with them than any place before but I don’t know how things are going to go… or if that’ll ever be home again.”

“Mmm.”

“Does that make sense?” She asked, suddenly looking up to you and you nodded.

“Yeah. But hey, Federal Agent means federal, you could pick up a job anywhere in the country. You’ve got tons of options.”

“Yeah...” She smiled tightly over at you before standing from the chair, “I was thinking stir fry for dinner? Use the rest of that chicken?”

“Sounds great.”

**

Emily jumped when the apartment door slammed shut, looking up toward the door to see you dropping your bag to the floor, kicking off your shoes and tossing your coat in the direction of the closet before you instantly disappeared into your room. By the muffled yell it was safe to assume that you’d dropped face first into your pillows to let out a scream. She thought about leaving you be, but you had left the door completely wide open and maybe you needed to talk, or a smoke and she’d be lying if she hadn’t been jonesing for one.

So she put down her book and tentatively approached the door, a chuckle escaping her lips as she found you having not moved an inch, face buried in the pillows, flat on your stomach. You were still in your scrubs, which she had never seen, you almost always changed at the hospital. It didn’t take a profiler to figure out that you had wanted to get out of there and home as fast as you could.

“You okay in there?” She asked with a smirk, crossing her arms over her chest as she leant against the door frame.

“Uggghhhh!” Was the response you gave without moving a muscle.

“I’m sensing a little bit of anger here… I’m guessing this isn’t a lost patient kinda thing?”

“No.” You grumbled, rolling onto your side to prop yourself up on your elbow, “just the most terrible, impatient, demanding, nit picky bitch I have ever met.”

“What was she in for?”

“Lipo.”

“Seriously? Why were you working with her?”

“She needed a couple of incisions redone, her doctor was out today and the resident didn’t want to go near her. I figured after you no one could be that bad, but boy was I wrong…. No offence.”

Emily barked out a laugh, “none taken.” Her arms dropped to her side as she stepped into the room, “you seem pent up, I think I may know how to help.” With a smirk she crawled onto the bed, gripping your hip to flip you fully onto your back.

“Oh?” You raised a brow.

“Yeah.” She nodded, her fingers delicately undoing the tie on your scrub pants, “think of it as an apology for being your second worst patient.” You laughed softly, your breath hitching in your throat at the feeling of her fingertips on your skin as they snuck into the waistband of your pants, “relax…”

With a gentle smile Emily tugged down your pants, tossing them to the floor before her hands softly glided up your legs, thumbs rubbing relaxing circles as she went. She massaged lightly, continuing higher up your thighs as you let out a satisfied breath and your legs easily fell open for her. She tugged at your panties, nudging at you to lift your hips so she could rid you of them, tossing them over her shoulder before she settled on her stomach between your legs.

Her lips softly kissed up your inner thigh, breath just barely hot enough where you were already craving it before she repeated the action on the other side, her hands soothing across your skin as she went. You let out an impatient whine and she chuckled, choosing to nip at your inner thigh instead, resulting in a gasp leaving your lips. Not wanting to frustrate you further her tongue darted out, flattening and licking through your pussy. The gasp you let out this time was louder, a hand shooting downward to tangle into her hair as your hips rocked upward. She chuckled softly into your cunt, kissing it gently before she began to eat you out.

Pleasure almost immediately began to soar through you, there was no doubt Emily was skilled at this and it wouldn’t take her long to figure out exactly what it was that made you tick. Her tongue sank into you, coaxing out your arousal, letting it smear across your pussy and down her chin. She licked up again, flicking at your clit and you moaned, fingers tightening in her hair.

“Fuck…”

She repeated the motion, her tongue slowly dragging through you before circling around your pulsing nub, creating a steady rhythm as your hips began to rock up against her mouth. You could already feel your pussy fluttering around nothing, the sparks flying through your body relaxing it, making all the worries of the day completely melt away. Your eyes slowly shut, letting the moment take over as you practically melted into the mattress, little moans and whines escaping your lips as Emily continued to eat you with expertise.

“Oh God…” You groaned when her lips wrapped around your clit, sucking it into her mouth, “more…”

You could nearly feel the way her lips curved up into a grin against your body, her tongue dancing patterns across your pulsing clit. A hand snuck up between your legs, the tips of her fingers toying with your juices before sinking into your pussy.

“Yes!” You moaned, nails scratching at her head, your hips jolting up off the bed.

Emily’s fingers pumped in the same pattern that she sucked on your clit, sucking harder when she curled them perfectly to hit the sensitive spot inside your pulsing walls. It didn’t take very long before you let out a soft cry, your thighs clenching around her as your orgasm washed over you. You heard her laugh softly as her lips finally popped off you, her fingers gently fucking you through your orgasm. She pressed a light kiss right above your clit before her tongue cleaned you up, careful not to overstimulate you before she nipped at your thigh again.

“Feeling any better?”

“Much.” You replied with a relaxed sigh as Emily shifted between your legs, sitting up at the edge of the bed so she could toss your clothes back to you, “could probably still use a drink though.”

“Yeah? How ‘bout a smoke?” She raised a playful brow and you laughed.

“Why the fuck not?”

“I’ll pour the wine.” She swatted at your calf, “grab a sweater, balcony’s a little chilly.”

**

You were standing in the kitchen, laptop open in front of you as you chewed on your lip, scrolling through page after page of recipes. Every so often your movement would catch Emily’s gaze over the top of her book and she would watch as you pulled open the pantry, staring into it. You’d shuffle a couple of cans or bags around, pulling things to the front before letting out a huff and moving back to the laptop. Her eyes would flick up again when only a couple of minutes later you would repeat the process with the fridge this time.

“Didn’t you pick up groceries like two days ago?” She finally asked and you let out a huff, dropping onto your elbows on the counter.

“Yeah. But my sister called a couple of days ago, freaking out cause she couldn’t find mom’s stuffing recipe. I didn’t even realize Thanksgiving was this weekend and now I feel like I’m missing out.”

“You wanna make a dinner?” She asked and you snorted.

“For just two of us? We’d be eating leftovers til Christmas. Besides,” you glanced over your shoulder, “a turkey isn’t fitting in that oven.”

“It’s overrated.” She shrugged, placing her book down on her lap, “everyone knows the side dishes and dessert are the best part of the dinner.”

“Yeah.” You sighed, your chin coming to rest in your palm, “but without it, the stuffing’s always dryer than it should be.”

“Could use a chicken?”

“Nah. Not enough space for how much stuffing a person needs.” Your nose crinkled and she laughed.

“Your mom make one of those over the top gourmet kinds with apples, cranberries and shit?”

“Ew, no.” You laughed, “bread, spices and practically a pound butter, the way it should be.”

“Well,” she pushed off the couch, padding over to the kitchen where she pulled open the fridge and pantry, “let’s figure this out. What do we need to go pick up?”

“Bread, potatoes,” you ticked off on your fingers, “gravy mix if we’re not actually gonna cook any meat, carrots… maybe brussels sprouts? I don’t like green beans, but if you want them.” You glanced over to her and she shrugged.

“We were never big on Thanksgiving. Wasn’t that much of a priority, and by the time I was an adult I was always working.”

“You never did dinner?” Your brow scrunched.

“Oh there was dinner.” She laughed, “mother would never waste an opportunity to host or show off, but she wouldn’t have even raised a finger when it came to cooking. Most years I’d finish a small plate, ask to be excused and go hide in my room.”

“What? No board games, football?” You asked and Emily barked a laugh.

“I was the only kid. This wasn’t like, a family gathering thing, this was my parents coworkers and people to make connections and network with, it was a place for a kid to be seen and not heard. Until of course my Mother was insistent I share what I was thankful for.”

“Ugh, the worst part of the meal.”

“Yeah, let’s get back to the best parts.” She grabbed the pad of paper you usually used for grocery lists, sliding it across to you, “you do main course I’ll do dessert.”

“Sure, as long as by main you mean sides.” You teased and she laughed.

“Of course.” She tossed you a grin, “and Carter…you’re not roping me into any fucking football.”

“Please,” you mocked, “you’re not ready for combat sports right now and I don’t wanna have to fix your rib again. I will however absolutely destroy you in Scrabble.”

“You sure about that?” She smirked.

“English words only!”

**

Emily shivered, pulling the blankets tighter around her and tucking them up right under her chin as her eyes wandered to the window. The weather had taken a turn for the worst, thick fluffy flakes of snow drifting through the air and coating the city. She’d already swapped her regular pyjama shorts for a set of pants, pulled a sweater over her shirt and grabbed a pair of wool socks. She’d stolen one of the blankets from the couch and still couldn’t manage to get warm enough in order to fall asleep.

You were faintly aware of noise outside your bedroom door and you did your best to ignore it, curling tighter under the blankets to hold onto sleep. Instead you heard your door open then swing shut and felt the weight of someone on your bed and you let out a small grumble.

“It is fucking freezing!” Emily’s groggy voice broke the silence of your room and you gasped when she pulled up the blankets, letting in a blast of cold air, “shove over.”

“What the fuck...” You grumbled, moving backwards on your side on the bed as Emily dove in next to you, quickly fitting herself right next to your body.

 Letting out a reluctant sigh you wrapped yourself around her, spooning her from behind as you knew there was no fighting it. She snuggled deeper into your arms as one of her hands adjusted the blankets and you realized she’d brought the blankets from her room too. Her hand grabbed at your wrist, pulling it around her body in an attempt to get more body heat and you nearly shrieked.

“Jesus you are frozen!”

“I wouldn’t be in your bed if I wasn’t.” She replied, burrowing into the pillow.

You held back an eye roll, letting your arm settle around her body, hugging her closer to you as you readjusted back to a comfortable position, your hand softly rubbing at her arm. As you settled against her your hand slid down her waist, wrapping around the hip she had against the bed, making sure she was snug to you before it rested there, just barely sneaking under the hem of her shirt. Your fingers moved absentmindedly, drawing what you thought were soothing patterns on her skin, movement that would lull her to sleep. Instead Emily let out a soft sigh, her back beginning to arch into the touch as her ass pushed backward into you and you couldn’t help but let out a dark chuckle.

“You know..” you murmured, your lips nearly brushing the shell of her ear, “I’ve got an idea that may just warm you up, even relax you to sleep.”

“Is that so?” She asked and you just knew her eyebrow was raised.

“Mmhmm.” You nipped at her neck and her breath caught in her throat.

“Whatever you’ve got in mind, go for it.”

Your hand easily slipped into the waist band of her pants, sneaking down until your finger tips found her clit, starting to lazily rub it until she was letting out breathy moans, her hips gently rocking in time with your hand. Even with you barely touching her she could already feel the heat beginning to spark through her body, each brush of your hands on her skin warming her up, her pussy tingling, sending different kinds of shivers through her.

“That’s it…” you murmured, lips kissing at her neck as you coaxed her to keep rolling her hips and she let out a moan.

“More…”

A small laugh escaped your lips, nipping at her earlobe as your hand sunk further between her legs, fingers swiping through her folds before they sank into her pussy, earning a gasp from her. Emily tossed her top leg over yours to spread herself open for you and you took full advantage. The heel of your hand continued to grind against her clit while you fingered her, thrusting faster and harder than you had been before. She was already squirming in your arms, little whines breaking free from her lips, ones that turned into moans as your other arm wound around her so you could start to play with her tits through her shirt.

“Oh god…” she groaned, hips grinding down against your hand, practically begging you to never stop.

Your fingers curled inside her, hitting that sweet spot right as you pinched at her nipple and she gasped, her body jolting in your grasp. Your lips formed a smirk against her skin, continuing your motions, beginning to suck on her neck as your fingers thrusted in and out of her dripping pussy. Not wanting to leave her hanging your thumb shifted, starting to rub at her clit in time with your thrusts and she let out a louder moan.

“Fuck!” She muttered through gritted teeth, “oh god, don’t stop. I’m gonna come.”

Her hips continued to grind down on your hand, her pussy fluttering around your fingers as you curled them a few times more, your hands toying with her body in just the way she needed it. It didn’t take much longer before she reached her peak, shaking in your arms, whimpers leaving her lips. Your hand slipped out of her pants, settling against her abdomen again as you felt her fully relax into your embrace.

“Christ…”

You certainly had warmed her up, a sheen of sweat coating her skin under all the fabric that brought warmth to the both of you. She was fast asleep minutes later, finally content with the temperature in the room and you weren’t far behind her.

_____________

@mickey-gomez @daddy-heather-dunbar @maybe-a-humanbean @rustyzebra  @leftoverenvy @dextur @supercriminalbean @daffodil-heart  @its-soph-xx  @just-a-torn-up-masterpiece @peanutbutterprincess @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm  @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar  @scorpsik  @happenstnces  @sapphicprentiss @geekyandgay98 @pagetboobstarcomments @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss  @desperate-gay @amypoehlfey @overtrred28   @regalmilfs4me @ara-a-bird @five-bi-five-mind @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @hotchs-bitch @ollysmulti @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @romanoffsho @ratsnestinmyhair @assgardangod  @originalbrunettecharacter @hopedoesntknow  @venromanova @waitaminuteashh @noahrex@imlike-so-gaydude @wittygutsy @cx-emerald-cx @lesbodietco @momily

[ddarker-dreams]

Lock, what DO you love and like so much about Dostoevsky's work? I don't think you've ever talked about that. Please, I want to know !!!

^o^

(christianity mention jump scare below proceed with caution)

i thought this would be an easy to answer but figuring out how to put my feelings into words proved difficult .

the beginning is always a good place to start, so let's go with that. by chance, i happened upon this video on youtube and gave it a watch. about halfway in i decided i had to read notes from underground for myself. i struggled to understand what the narrator was trying to get across. the unique writing style, where the reader is addressed directly, as if in challenge, helped me preserve.

i think part of what makes his work special to me is his depiction of people. and they really do feel like people more than characters, even if some of their characteristics are unique to the era dostoevsky wrote in. everything else about them transcends time. i can see myself in some of them. whether it be the titular idiot, prince myshkin in his naivety; alyosha, who goes from devout to doubting; and ivan, whose bitterness toward religion masks his disappointment at the state of the world. 

that's why the brothers karamazov touched me in particular. for some context, i grew up in a christian household and was heavily involved in the church (american northeast white baptist strand of church). around when i was 11 or so, the introduction of left-wing politics through social media had me undergo a looooong identity crisis. these new ideas felt at odds with what i'd spent my entire life believing. what i grappled with the most relates to ivan's anecdote, the grand inquisitor, where the goodness of god is called into question. the bitterness, the disappointment from crushed expectations, all those sensations resonated strongly with me. reading it as an adult who (supposedly) 'healed' from that time period in my life was like opening pandora's box. i'd never seen my thoughts and struggles so accurately described, or treated with more than a 'his ways are higher than our ways' type platitude. i stuffed these concerns of mine away because they only ever served to make me feel worse.

i won't delve deep into the Depressing Lore. the only reason i mention it is to stress how profound an impact the work had on me. throughout the remainder of TBK (and in most of dostoevsky's discography), the best and worst of humanity is shown. our hypocritical nature, capacity for evil; nothing is shied away from or made more palatable. and yet, throughout it all, our potential for good is shown too. whether it be in the little acts or monumental self-sacrifice. sometimes those acts are honored, or ‘worth it,’ sometimes they aren’t. it’s cheesy but whatever i’ll say it — choosing to love and serve others is my greatest joy. i don’t really need a definitive answer to those problems i struggled with. that’s the takeaway i’ve had from his work. it might not seem like a big deal, but not feeling guilty for having certain doubts or anxious over those doubts never fully being resolved was. very significant for me. and healing (for real this time). 

so that’s the sentimental perspective GJSDLKFJS from my writer’s perspective, i can only describe him as brilliant. his grasp on the human psyche is incredible. he can accurately describe so many emotions, worldviews, and give the context necessary for each one to feel organic and real. it’s vivid, too, in a way i can’t properly get across. everyone’s unfiltered and messy. characters contradict themselves in the same sentence. they’ll murmur, go off on tangents, tell stories, misquote the bible (or many other significant works), and just be overall disasters. aka how people actually are. 

the man’s also funny as hell. the protagonist from crime and punishment has a mental breakdown spanning multiple pages over a sock. yes, there’s context, but that’s still the gist of things. then there’s the issue of the hedgehog in the idiot. hedgehog drama. 

ultimately, his work is so very human. there’s commentary on issues that are prevalent to this day, multiple centuries later. the topics he touches on tend to align with what i care about most. whether i agree or disagree with what i’m reading, there’s always something i glean from it. something meaningful that sits with me long after i close the book. i’ll mull over it and bother people in my vicinity until they mull over it too. no one is safe. whether it be a co-worker or my dad who drives noticeably faster to reach our destination and be free of my many questions.

i could keep going but this ended up being long enough GJSKDF i hope at least something here makes sense?>?? i apologize for the incoherent ramblings. it's what the dude does to me.