#how many mid covers of god only knows can I take? not many. but like she & him have their little Brian Wilson tribute I like that. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gothgleek · 2 months

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How Many Licks? (Just Bite It)

Angus Tully x fem!reader

Summary: You work at the University’s mail room sorting packages and trying to keep yourself from boredom. However- not that you would ever admit it out loud- you look forward to Thursday afternoons when Angus Tully stops by.

Based on my post Dominic Sessa looking like he bites people.

Word Count: 1,900+

Notes: She/her pronouns, Afab reader, Christmas mention, biting, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, unsafe sex, semi-public sex, sex at the workplace, overstimulation, quickies, reader being a brat, calling each other ‘slut’, everyone involved is over the age of 18

Notes: Huge thank you to my friend, Mera for helping me come up with what to call Angus because there is no way I’m moaning that name either fictionally or irl. It’s like moaning ‘Ulysses’ or ‘Cornelius.’ Please be nice as this is the first fanfic I’ve ever posted on Tumblr and first ever reader insert I’ve ever written. I tried being as neutral as possible when describing physical features but please let me know if there is anything that takes you out. Specifically I tried saying bite marks instead of bruises because not all skin tones bruise easily but I’m sure I missed some.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated 💕💕💕

Minors DNI

Your bright red stockings paired well with your wool black dress that hits you mid-thigh. You couldn’t see Angus from this angle, but you could feel his gaze rising up your legs and to the garter belt as you climbed the ladder. You knew he was a boob man but it was too cold for a v-neck dress. You put his package on the top shelf specifically so you could show off your legs when he arrived.

“Thanks, I got them Black Friday shopping.” You tell him, stepping down the ladder, his package on your hip. “Which is what I assume this is?” You shake the box in your hands. It’s not heavy but you can tell it’s packed to the brim.

“Hope so,” You hear him unwrap a lollipop and pop it in his mouth. You cringe as you hear him bite the lollipop.

You step off the ladder and tuck the box under your breasts, pushing them up more. “If you keep biting them, I’m going to start hiding them when you stop by.”

He smiles obnoxiously. “Then you would’ve hid them away by now.”

You roll your eyes, putting the box on the counter. “It’s disgusting.”

“No, it’s actually pretty tasty,” He smirked and took the used lollipop stick out of his mouth. “Wanna guess what flavor it is?” Angus sticks his artificially red tongue out.

“You’re such a slut.” You roll your eyes and shake your head.

---

The piles of new shipments kept the two of you hidden from the public eye as Angus got on his knees, pushing you against the wall. Your stockings had been quickly disposed of, tossed over his shoulder before you could say anything. His mouth was on your left knee, pressing a kiss as he opened your legs. One warm hand rests on your stomach, balancing himself.

He places a sloppy, open mouthed kiss on your inner thigh, above your knee. He licked upwards and bit down, sucking on the flesh between his teeth. He mirrors his actions on your left thigh. You hissed, knowing (and loving) that it would leave marks.

“You smell fucking amazing,” He says against your skin, his big brown eyes looking up at you. Motivated by your scent, Angus’s kisses get sloppier and while his bites are quicker, it is no less painful as he moves upward your legs. You glanced at the entrance to the office, double checking you could freely respond to his actions.

“God, you’re fucking soaked,” Angus said smirking, the cold air making your clit pulse. His thumb lightly moved over your lace covered pussy.

“Did you get jealous of the lollipop? The way I licked,” You jumped as his tongue touched your clit, the lace of your panties adding to the friction. “And bit?” His teeth graze against it.

“God, you’re such a dirty slut,” You tell him, only half teasing.

“And you’re a loud slut,” Angus teases and pushes your dress upwards. “Bite on this.”

You wordlessly accepted and clamp down on the polyester fabric. He slowly pulled down your red panties to show him your beautiful pussy. Since your lower half and most of your torso was visible, Angus greedily took in the sight of your bare stomach and underboob. He kisses your clit and spits on it. He traces his tongue over the sensitive nub and gives you slow, deliberate licks, creating a bigger mess between your thighs.

You let out muffled moans, your fingers tangled in his curly hair and grinding your hips for more friction. Angus once told you he would die a happy man if that meant being between your legs. Today is a good day to test that. You grip his hair, forcing his mouth to wrap around your clit, an action he responds to with a hum of approval. The vibrations make your hips roll and back arch. You can feel him laugh because he knows he has you where he wants you but you cannot care about that now. You hold his head there, pleading whimpers begging for more. Angus removes his hands from your pussy so he could grip your thighs for balance but makes no effort to loosen your grip.

Embarrassingly, it doesn’t take you long to reach your peak. Not when his mouth is making you feel so, so good. Your dress falls down as your mouth opens, a strangled cry echoing in the room, and your nails dig into his scalp as you cum. Angus keeps licking you as if you’re not melting around his mouth. As if your legs are not shaking in his hands from overstimulation. Eventually you cannot take it anymore and you have to push him away. Still, he licks up the mess you’ve created on your thighs before standing to face you with a satisfied smirk.

The intensity of your orgasm leaves you feeling dizzy so his hands stay on your hips as he rises. Though his face is painted with arrogance, Angus gently sits you on the table your boss reserved for processing packages. He lifts your dress over your head and tosses it to the side, impatiently but gently. Your nipples pebble because of the cold air and his lustful gaze.

Eyes never leaving yours, Angus unbuckles his belt and pulls his cock out. He pushed you against the table, kissing you at the same time. You wrap your arms around his neck as you taste his mouth- a combination of your pussy and his strawberry lollipop.

His hand gently pushed your thighs wider as his other hand slipped a finger between your entrance. His thumb gently rubbed your clit in exactly the way you taught him so you couldn’t help the moans that escaped your mouth. He slid another finger in and you gasped out a “Yes!” You rode his fingers, chasing your pleasure. Your moans ricocheting off the walls, not caring how slutty you acted.

But he cared.

Angus pulled away from your breast, not bothering to wipe away the string of spit connecting his lips to your breast. The hand on your thigh paused your movements and his fingers slowed.

“Tell me you’re my slut,” he smirked. You whined in response. “Come on, say it.”

He gently lays you back on the table and takes his shirt off. Angus turned around to see the clock on the wall ticking down the minutes until your boss came back from lunch.

“Tick tock.” He said, emphasizing each word with the tap of his cock on your entrance. “Tick, tock.”

You had no doubt he would elongate this. Last time you pushed your luck, you weren’t caught, but you didn’t you cum either. Angus had the biggest shit eating grin when he came in the following day and you begged him to fuck you.

But you still weren’t going to give him the satisfaction.

And he knew that.

“How does it feel to be a slut?” He murmured against your ear. Angus buried his face in the crook of your neck, biting down and pulling satisfied moans out of your mouth. “To be my slut?”

“I’m not your slut,” You protested between your moans.

He stopped biting your neck to simply nip at it, moving downwards to your breasts. Your trembling fingers grabbed at the curls on the back of his head, encouraging him. Agnus took a nipple into his hot mouth causing your left hand to dig into his shoulder and your right hand to pull his hair. Angus let out a muffled moan of pleasure and sucked on your nipple harder. There was tension building in your stomach but you couldn’t release it until you were around him.

“Say it,” Angus said as he alternated between your breasts. “Say it and I’ll fuck you.”

“Fine! I’m a slut!” You cried. “I’m your slut! Now please! Fuck me!”

Angus chuckled and slid into you. You instinctively wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer. His eyes fluttered as he felt your heat surround his cock. He stared down at you as he found his rhythm. his fingers finding your clit again. Angus’s fingers moved in the same rhythm as his hips.He moved his hips faster, forcing your back to arch off the desk. Moaning, you clenched around his cock.

Angus kept his pace but his mouth suctioned around your breast as his tongue swirled around your nipple faster. The hand not on your clit reached over to grab your other breast, rolling the nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“Keep going…” You whined, almost begging. The tension was reaching its peak. “So… close…”

Hearing you cry out, Angus pulled away from your beast and watched you fall apart.

He tried to fuck you through your orgasm but he couldn’t help but he wasn’t far behind you. Not when pleasure washed over your face. Not when you squeezed him like that. Not when your voice echoed like that in the small room. With a stuttering groan, Angus came inside your pussy while biting your shoulder.

Your legs loosened around his waist as your body relaxed but your pussy still clenched around his twitching cock, taking every drop of him. Angus’s body relaxed and his mouth loosened its grip on your shoulder. But you can feel his teeth scraping against your tender skin. He pressed gentle, open mouth kisses against your neck as he pulled out of you. You whimpered as he did that, already missing him inside you.

Tiredly and lazily, he kissed his way down your body until he got to his knees again. Angus spread your legs again, watching his cum dripping out of you and pooling on the table. You felt his mouth cover your pussy once again. Though tired, you couldn’t help but arch your back a little when you felt his tongue lap at your sensitive pussy, cleaning you. Angus pulled away before you could cum, though you are thankful he did as your body was not ready to accept another orgasm.

He helped you to your feet and kissed you gently on the mouth. You returned the kiss, leaning against him for balance. However, your orgasms still left you a little tired so you had to break the kiss to retain your balance. Not that Angus minded, he still kissed you, this time peppering them on your neck. Your hands loosely held his neck before you noticed the clock.

“Unless you have a turtleneck for me in that package, don’t you dare leave another hickey on my neck,” You told him as your wits came back to you and he laughed against your skin. He kissed your neck and went to his package on the counter.

“As a matter of fact,” He said, tearing it open and digging around, not caring he was still naked. “I do.”

He pulled out a knit black sweater with a thick, folded turtleneck. You accepted it and marveled at how soft it was.

“For me?” Your eyes were wide.

“Yeah, well, you always complain it’s cold down here, ” Angus shrugged nonchalantly but you could see color rising to his cheeks.

“Plus you know,” He brushed your hair off your shoulder. “It’ll hide those bite marks I left behind.”

You look down at your body to see a map of bite marks and bruises identical to his mouth and fingers. You snatched your new sweater from his hands and threw it on.

#angus tully #angus tully x reader #angus tully imagine #angus tully smut #the holdovers #smut #fanfic #reader insert #mine

314 notes · View notes

its-time-to-write · 11 months

Note

Omg I'm loving your response to my prompts!! thank you

I have a few ideas (You don't have to do them all) just throwing them out there to see what sparks ideas!!

I love secret admirer stories (I know its no where close to valentines day but still) maybe Reader is Rebecca's assistant and keeps getting gifts leading up to valentines day but she is pretty sure its like Sam or Isaac and tells friend Jaime (even though its really him) then the day of the grand finale and she comes to the lovely surprise of it being Jaime!

also if you could include Scarlett red roses in it for me (They are my favorite flower and the only flower I'm not allergic to)

So. I liked this one. Maybe too much? It might be the longest one I’ve written so far, so, uh, sorry about that. But I liked it a lot. It might be one of my favorite things I’ve ever written. Hope you enjoy. also the gif isn’t Jamie Tartt but it is Phil Dunster so hopefully that’s ok

honey, i’ll give you all my time

Good god, it’s February all ready. You have a love-hate relationship with the month; love, because Galentine’s Day and hate because Valentine’s Day. You and your friends would go out on February 15th to get discount chocolate from the shops, then return home for an ungodly amount of takeout and a movie. On the whole, you all preferred action movies with a good romance.

You’re dreading Valentine’s Day because it’s when your boyfriend of two years held your hands in his, and told you he wanted to break up.

That was a year ago. You’re mostly angry that he’s a dark stain on one of your favorite holidays. You’re absolutely determined not to let him ruin your enjoyment.

This is also the first year you’re not with your friends. You moved away last March because you realized your ex had been holding you back in far too many ways.

So. To recap.

You’re alone. You love Valentine’s Day, despite it forever being the day of your breakup. Your friends aren’t here. You have new friends. There is no one to go to the shops with on the 15th. But discount chocolate is still discount chocolate.

Your current job is as a personal assistant, something you excel at. You basically anticipate needs, meet them, and just generally make your employer’s life a whole lot easier. The application said the job required a lot of travel, but all expenses (minus some food) were covered.

You were shocked when you got an interview, then a second, then a third, then were hired.

Your boss is a woman named Rebecca Welton, and you’re half in love with her, but who isn’t, really?

You swear you’ve never been in such a healthy work environment. You mention it one day, early on, and she says it’s all thanks to their head coach, someone named Ted.

You meet him for the first time later that day, and you understand.

It’s impossible not to love him, because he has vision. He knows what he wants from his team, and he knows how to get it.

He believes the team extends far beyond the players.

He believes it extends to you, too.

Ted and Coach Beard steal you from Rebecca as often as they can, claiming emergencies such as “a toxic amount of testosterone from all these boys,” “life-threatening boredom,” and last but not least, “there’s a new pun Ted absolutely needs to test right now and he won’t take no for an answer.”

(You like to give Ted honest feedback on his puns.)

You also find yourself in their office when Rebecca is out for lunch, eating your respective sandwiches and swapping life stories.

They remind you a lot of your parents.

It’s mid-June when you mention the Valentine’s Day story.

It doesn’t hurt as much when it’s punctuated by Ted’s “he didn’ts” and Beard’s perfectly-timed gasps.

You find yourself laughing halfway through, unable to stop.

“And anyway,” you finish, cheeks painful from smiling so hard, “that’s why romantic love is a joke and I am drowning myself in platonic love forever.”

Ted and Beard share a look. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” Beard says.

You shoot him a quizzical look. “What do you mean?”

“Well sweetheart,” Ted says, “between the two of us collectively,” here points between him and Beard, “we know of at least three of the boys on the team who are madly in love with you.”

“What?” you gasp, “How did you- where did you- who??”

Ted zips his lips and Beard tips a finger to him. “We know of five if we count Rebecca’s intel.”

You’re sitting cross-legged on the edge of Beard’s desk, in shock. “Rebecca knows about this??”

Ted and Beard shrug in unison. “We all have our opinions on which one should shoot their shot, but that’s neither here nor there,” Ted says.

“Coincidentally, it’s the one thing we unanimously agree on,” Beard nods.

You’re cut off from saying anything by the door opening. One of the players stands in the doorway.

“Excuse me, coach,” he says, accent thick.

Ted motions in a you have the floor type of way, and the footballer turns to address you of all people. “We’re all goin’ out tonight, and Keeley sent me to invite the new girl. None of the lads have really met you yet, just seen you ‘round. Thought it might be good for team bonding, or something. I’m Jamie, by the way.”

“Oh,” you say, taken aback. “I guess- yeah, I guess I haven’t really met them. I mean, I see you guys around and stuff and I’m at your games, but I don’t really know you. Are you sure you want me to come?”

Jamie shrugs. “Coach is always on us about bein’ a team or some shit. And, havin’ a girl around makes the lads look good.”

You think that makes sense, and then find yourself agreeing to go out that night with a group of footballers you don’t know, and (thank god) Keeley Jones.

You’re going to figure out which five before the summer’s over.

—

You have nice time out with the lads. They go to a bar and cram into separate booths. You’re wedged in between two who have introduced themselves as Isaac and Dani, and across from Sam, Bumbercatch, and Jan Maas. Roy, Richard, and a few others you don’t know are milling about, and you see Jamie and Keeley at a table, surrounding by giggling girls. The sight is so absurd that you catch yourself smiling and turning back to whatever conspiracy Bumbercatch is telling you about now.

—

You put Sam at the top of your list as soon as you get home. The man wears his heart on his sleeve, or maybe in his eyes, but you’re positive that he’s one of the five Ted and Beard referred to. One down, four to go.

—

It’s the end of July, and you begin to become friends with the team. You know for an absolute fact who is not interested in you, Jamie being one of them. Coincidentally, he’s the one you become closest to. You think it’s because you’re not worrying about sending mixed signals or leading him on. You dropped public hints about not really looking for anything romantic, just to be sure you wouldn’t hurt anyone.

As it is, Jan Maas and Dani have made the list. Jan Maas, because he stifled his Dutch bluntness for you and Dani, because he openly declared he was madly in love with you in front of the whole team.

—

Isaac makes the list in December. It had been in between him and Bumbercatch, but Isaac was the one who walked you to your car every night and the first one to say hello to you every morning.

You’re not gonna lie, it was cute.

You shared some of this with Ted and Beard, who remained impressively stone-faced. Rebecca proved to be equally impervious.

You shared all of it with your lunch-buddy-turned-work-bestie, Jamie.

You ate with him because Rebecca was constantly in lunch meetings these days, and Ted, Beard, and Roy were always revamping their football strategies.

Jamie would plop down at your table and say, “What’s the news, Amy Hughes?” in his perfect Mancunian accent, and then listen/add commentary to whatever you had to say.

You explained to him that the reason you wanted to know who liked you was so that you could be extra careful with their hearts. You knew what it was like to be led on, and you did NOT want to do that to someone else.

Jamie nodded thoughtfully at that and then said, “We’re all footballers though, ain’t we? We get the shit end of the stick all the time, hearts broke by models and whatever. Even ends up in the fucking press. Everyone here’s has their heart broken before, and we all know you aren’t doing it on purpose.”

You wrinkle your nose at him. “I’m pretty sure it’s short end of the stick, Jamie.”

And thus begins your lunch hour of bickering.

—

No one has made a move on you yet, and you don’t have a read on number five. You still think it may be Bumbercatch, but in reality, it slips from your mind. Sam’s moved on, Jan Maas has accepted defeat, Dani swears he will love you until the day he dies, and Isaac stays, well, Isaac. Still sweet. Still walking you to your car, coming round extra early in the morning with a coffee or a water, depending on which “looked less like shit.”

Really though, you don’t think about it until February first, when you walk into your office to a small box on your desk.

At first, you think it’s a box of Ted’s biscuits.

Then, you notice a small, scarlet-red rose taped to the top. There’s no note, and all that’s inside is a tiny paper heart.

It’s folded with extreme care, and you place it on your shelf, smelling the rose. It smells amazing and you make a mental note to figure out where the heck it came from. But for now, it’s time to work.

—

You don’t mention the gifts until February third, because now there’s been one a day. Each one with a scarlet red rose, and a different gift. Yesterday was an incredibly expensive bar of chocolate (it was life-changing) and today is a tiny gold bracelet.

It’s a simple enough chain, but it is absolutely breathtaking. There is no mistaking the fact that it is not cheap, so you take it and march straight to Rebecca’s office.

“Rebecca,” you say, hands outstretched, “look.”

She does, smiles, then says, “It appears you have a secret admirer.”

“But I don’t want that!” you cry. “I don’t even have time for that! I don’t even like anybody right now!”

She peers at you over her glasses. “Don’t you?”

The sheer weight of those words is enough to physically knock you back two steps.

You don’t, you swear you don’t, you’re absolutely sure.

What about Vienna? a voice in the very back of your head nags.

You reply, out loud, “We don’t talk about Vienna,” and Rebecca just shrugs.

“Have it your way,” she replies in a tone that means this conversation is over, but you’re the one ending it.

You turn on your heel and find yourself taking the route to Ted and Beard.

You burst into their office in such a flurry that the entire room turns to look at you. “Close the door,” you say with such urgency, that Trent hurries to comply. Beard even shuts the blinds.

“What’s on your mind, Ollie Cline?” Ted asks.

“Wait,” you say, holding up a hand. You point to Roy. “Do you want to be here? It involves feelings.”

“Fuck no,” says Roy, “thanks for being fucking considerate.” He follows it up with a pointed glare at Ted, then goes into his office and firmly shuts the door.

“Can he be here?” Ted asks, tilting his head toward Trent.

“I don’t care, he’s probably a good one to have around for this because look!” You present the three collected roses and the bracelet.

“Someone’s started leaving me gifts, and I’m pretty sure it’s a Valentine’s thing because of the roses, and it was fine for the first two days but this is expensive, and I can’t accept this!”

Ted and Beard share a look. You hate it when they do that and leave you out.

Ted sighs. “Listen, do you think this about Vienna?”

You fix him with a glare. “No. We are not talking about Vienna ever again.”

Trent pipes up, “What’s Vienna?” and you wheel around on him, taking your glare with you.

“Vienna," you spit, like it’s poisonous, “is a terrible, awful place where people think terrible, awful things. I never want to talk about it again and I never will.”

Trent nods. “Noted.”

You turn back to Ted and Beard, pleadingly. “What do I do? Tell me what to do.”

Beard gets up and puts his hand on your shoulder. “Kid, if you want my advice, take the damn roses and wear the damn bracelet. These boys make more money than they know how to spend, so just let it go. They all know how you feel about dating, so if someone’s shooting their shot, they know the stakes.”

You shake your head. “Fine. Fine. I’ll let it go.”

—

You decide to tell Jamie on day five, because it’s a Friday and you’re dying to get his take. You tell him everything, show him the roses in your office (hanging upside down to dry), and then hand him the notebook that was in today’s box.

“Jamie,” you say, “this is an expensive notebook. There was a typed note inside that said, ‘for your drawings.’ How did this person even know I like drawing? I never talk about it!”

Jamie looks at you and laughs a little. You’re very flustered for something most people would enjoy. “Dunno, love, but we’ve all seen the sticky notes you leave Coach. That might be it.”

You groan and flop down into your chair.

“At least tomorrow’s the weekend,” you say.

—

Jamie’s phone dings at 9:00am on Saturday with a text from you that says, what the actual heck and a picture of a brown bag at your doorstep. Inside is a plastic box of your favorite lemon muffin from a local bakery. He emphasized the image, then waits for your response.

It was still warm, you write. It was someone who knows where I live and knows what time I leave to get breakfast.

Jamie grins and sends you a shrugging emoji, and you respond with an eye roll and a you’re no fun.

Jamie reads that and privately disagrees. He thinks he’s lots of fun

—

You’re pretty sure it’s Isaac. After all, he’s the only likely candidate. He’s one of the few who knows where you live and knows your routine. Not in a creepy way, in a we’re-good-friends type of way. You bring this up to Jamie, after personally banning all talk of this with Ted, Beard, and Rebecca. Stupid Vienna. You should never have told them.

Jamie shrugs for the millionth, infuriating time. He’s been noncommittal this whole time. You’re over here pouring out your heart and soul, considering whether you like Isaac romantically or not, and all he can say is, “I dunno?”

This is not the Jamie Tartt you’ve become best friends with.

That Jamie would be down to hunt this secret admirer with you. That Jamie would be helping you figure out if Isaac had a chance with you. That Jamie would be way more engaged than the one sitting in front of you right now.

But, you suppose maybe that Jamie died in Vienna, so you stop bringing it up.

—

It’s day ten. Valentine’s Day is in four day, and you’re nervous.

You’ve decided you don’t like Isaac like that, mainly because it shouldn’t take you that long to decide if you like anyone. There has to be an initial spark, and you shouldn’t try to manufacture it.

Still, you’re not sure it is Isaac, so you’re not going to say anything about it. The scarlet red roses hang on your office wall, permeating the room with their scent.

You feel like you’re dying.

This is a cruel joke and you’re dying.

The building is basically empty right now. Rebecca and Higgins have some meeting, the team is on the pitch (including Will) and various other staff are somewhere far away from you. So, you jump a little when Trent Crimm comes tripping into your office.

“Vienna,” he says, no greeting. “If you didn’t want to talk about it, you wouldn’t have told anyone. I’m assuming you do want to talk about it, but you don’t want judgement from the people you love. I’m here to offer my services as a neutral party.”

You look at him. “Trent. You are a journalist. Your whole job is writing down people’s secrets. Why on earth would I talk to you about the worst day of my life?”

Trent shrugs. “I’m good at keeping secrets. This would be off the record. I’ve never lied to people about off the record, also. I consider it bad journalism.”

You consider this for a moment, then sigh.

“Alright,” you concede. “At least if this gets out, I know whose head I’m shaving in retaliation.”

Trent looks at you in surprise, seeing you in a whole new, slightly threatening light.

“It happened two months ago. It was around Christmas, and I didn’t have anywhere to go…”

—

Your family all had their own separate plans that Christmas. Plans that didn’t really involve you. Same with your friends. You said something casually to Rebecca, and the next day she told you she had booked you a trip to Vienna. Call it an early Christmas present, she said. It was at the Aumaris Vienna, and it was gorgeous and ridiculously out of your budget, but she said you worked hard and gave her peace-of-mind, and you can’t really put a price on that, can you?

So you went.

But here’s the thing.

Someone else didn’t have Christmas plans.

So when you brought up your trip at your daily lunch, said someone else casually asked, can I come?

You almost choked on your sandwich.

Because here’s the other thing.

You were, maybe, kind of, possibly just a little bit head over heels in love with this someone else.

You’re not sure when it happened, really, just that it was probably in August and that it was soul-crushing because you knew for an absolute fact that he did not, and never would, feel the same way.

You didn’t tell anyone except Keeley, but under the condition that she just let you say it and that she never, ever give you a response to it. Just listen.

She did, but you were pretty sure she almost combusted.

But who are you to say no when Jamie Tartt invited himself on your luxurious Christmas vacation saying, I’ll pay extra to get a plane ticket next to you?

You were doomed from the start.

To make matters totally and impossibly worse, he couldn’t find another room.

He had his tickets, but the hotels, he said, were packed.

It was Christmas, after all.

So that’s how you ended up in a luxury hotel with Jamie Tartt for a week and a half, one day of which was Christmas.

You know the, “there was only one bed” trope that everyone thinks is so cute?

It was that, but only if you add deep, shattering heartbreak to it.

Because every night, you had to listen to Jamie say, “goodnight, love,” and then get into that giant, soft bed as far away from him as you could manage.

Every morning you woke up to the pillow barricade long gone, one of his arms thrown around you. Or one of your legs on top of his. Or a million different scenarios where you end up literally asleep together, some weird gravity pulling you to each other.

You were falling so hard and so fast, that you felt like the air was knocked from your lungs when Jamie started talking about the girl he liked.

“She’s just so fucking beautiful,” he’d say, staring at an Alpine mountain. Or, “Swear she’s the smartest fucking person I’ve ever met,” while traipsing through the city. Or, “Pretty sure she’s ruined me for everyone else,” while getting facials at the hotel spa.

To be fair, you were the one who teased him into admitting he liked someone.

You just didn’t expect it to hurt so much.

The entire trip felt like heaven and hell had simultaneously converged on you, and you never wanted to leave but also desperately counted the days till it was over.

You came back and broke down in Rebecca’s office. Ted and Beard were there. The whole thing came spilling out, about how you loved the trip so much it felt like your heart would explode but that Jamie loved someone else.

They all exchanged looks amongst themselves and did their best to comfort you.

You pulled yourself together and they promised never to say anything to anyone.

—

“So that’s Vienna,” you finish.

Trent is just staring at you, mouth slightly agape.

He finally says, “My god, that’s fucked,” with such emotion that you decide right then and there that you like Trent Crimm and his rainbow mug.

Now, you just shrug. “I did it to myself, honestly. That’s why I’m tripping out about this secret admirer thing. And god, Trent, the roses. They’re so beautiful and it’s so romantic, and whoever it is obviously knows me well so there’s a part of me that wants to like this person, but…” you trail off.

“But there’s a part of you that’s hoping against hope that Jamie’s behind it all,” Trent finishes.

You let out a little laugh. “Yeah, that about sums it up.”

Trent looks at the roses, then at you. “Maybe you should talk to Jamie,” he says, gently.

You reply with a forceful, “No,” and then follow up with a small, “That’s what Ted and Rebecca say, too.”

Trent stands up, shrugs, says with a small smile, “Just a thought,” then he’s out the way he came.

—

It is Valentine’s Day. And it’s a Sunday, which means you are legally required to stay in bed until 10, at which point you will get out only to make yourself decent enough to go buy a good cup of coffee and maybe (definitely) something to eat.

You’ve just finished putting on your shoes, when there’s a knock at the door.

You take a breath, and get ready to let down your secret admirer as gently as possible.

You swing open the door to reveal-

“Jamie! What are you doing here?”

Jamie Tartt is on your doorstep, hands behind his back, looking shyer than the day you first met.

He opens his mouth and says the last thing you’d ever expect:

“D’you remember Vienna?”

Your heart, which had already been going fast because his dumb floppy hair was all dumb and floppy in his stupid, cute headband, is now working double time. You manage a nod.

Jamie takes this as permission to continue. “D’you remember how I couldn’t get another room, no matter how hard I tried? That wasn’t true. I could’ve.” He pauses, and you wait for him to continue.

“And d’you remember when we met, when I told you Keeley told me to invite you out? That was a lie too.”

You tilt your head, confused. He keeps going.

“Look- I fucked it. I fucked it a million times and I told Ted and I told Beard, but they kept helping me un-fuck it and giving me chances, and then Rebecca bought two tickets to Vienna and slipped me the other one, and they all told me I had a perfect shot.”

You’re still not understanding what he’s saying. He might as well be speaking another language. Jamie sees the confusion in your eyes, takes a breath, and tries again.

“Keeley told me to invite you out, but only because I’d seen you around and thought you were fit. Then Isaac and all the lads thought the same thing, so I didn’t even get to fuckin’ sit with you. And then you started sayin’ things about not bein’ ready for a relationship, so I tried to let it go. I really fucking tried. But I just couldn’t. Your eyes are too sparkly and your laugh is too fucking cute and I couldn’t let it go, so I started eating lunch with you and you fucking let me. I knew the moment I said anything about liking you, it was over.”

Comprehension has started to dawn, but you push down hope until Jamie’s done speaking.

“Everyone told me to shoot my shot in Vienna. We shared a bed, for fuck’s sake.” Here, Jamie looks bewildered. “But I dunno, I didn’t want to make shit weird. So when you asked if I liked anyone I said yeah, and started fuckin describing you, but you never fucking picked up on it. That’s when I got the idea to try one more time. All by meself, no help from anyone else. So…yeah.”

Jamie Tartt is standing on your porch confessing his love for you on Valentine’s Day and it is not a dream, because if it were your teeth would be falling out and his hair would probably be neon pink.

“I’m an idiot,” you breathe. “You like me? Like, like-like me?”

Jamie quirks a smile at that. “Not quite, darling. Pretty fucking sure I love you.” He pulls his hand from behind his back to reveal a bunch of scarlet red roses. The same from each gift.

“Got these for you,” he says. “D’you know how hard it is to get red roses in February?”

You don’t answer him because you’re leaping into his arms, kissing him like you’ve thought about doing every day for what feels like forever. He’s kissing you back, hand with the flowers pressed against your back, other hand in your hair.

“I love you too, Jamie,” you whisper against his mouth. He smiles and pulls you in again.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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anurst · 6 months

Text

What He Likes

Summary: Natasha makes an observation about the girls that Jake hits on, and you jump to conclusions about his type. Let's just say you make the irrational decision to cut your hair after.

A/N: sorry this isn't a Girl Bradshaw update :( ik a lot of people have been waiting for an update. I've been lowkey spiraling but I'm feeling better now! college has been stressing me tf out but I'm starting to take better care of myself! if you haven't noticed there's a tip option now so if you want maybe tip? i don't wanna pressure anyone at all!! i figured that maybe I could get paid while writing since it's something that I love to do ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ anyway enjoy! this has been sitting in my drafts for a while

Pairing(s): Jake Seresin x (fem) reader

Warning(s): mentions of alcohol, language, inaccurate military cause I said so, reader is described with long hair

"Have you ever noticed how Hangman only goes after girls with short hair?" Natasha says beside you, and you stop mid-sip. Your eyes shift from Bradley and Bob's pool game towards Jake and a short-haired brunette.

They're both standing near the bar, and the woman gives Jake a bright smile as she laughs at something he says. The moment her hand brushes against his arm, jealousy fills you. It wasn't a secret between you and Natasha that you had a crush on Jake. Being the only woman in the dagger squad meant that the two of you spent a lot of time together.

"Nope," you respond to her, and a finger wraps itself in a strand of your hair. It's an understatement to say you have long hair. After seeing Rapunzel as a little girl, you committed to having long hair like her. It's been your pride and joy since you were young, the reason many girls have showered you in compliments about how long and luscious it is. But now, looking at Jake and the short-haired girl heading towards the door of the Hard Deck, you curse your decision to keep your hair so long.

"Hey, Princess!" Mickey calls out, and you turn to look at him. "You up for some pool?" You force a smile and stand from your seat beside Natasha.

"Only if you're up for losing again."

'Oh God, this was a terrible idea,' you think as you stare at yourself in the mirror. Your fingers run through your shoulder-length hair, and you groan. The memories from last night are a little hazy as you try to think about how you ended up in this situation.

After having one too many drinks, Bradley gave you a ride home, and you ended up in your bathroom with a pair of scissors. Natasha's words from hours earlier seemed to echo in your head as you frowned. "If Jake likes girls with short hair, I can be a girl with short hair," you mumbled as you cut inches of your hair off. Hair strands fell to the ground as you measured the ends with your fingers. Looking into the mirror, you smiled at your new hair, and a yawn slipped out of your lips as you looked down at your phone resting on the sink. "I really gotta sleep."

'This is so so so so so very bad' You squint at the uneven portions of your hair and grimace as you try to fix them. The sound of your phone ringing draws your attention away from your hair. Running out the bathroom and into your room, you answer the phone to hear Natasha's voice.

"Hey! I'm outside! Oh, and I got you an iced coffee and bagel for breakfast."

"Nat..."

"Yeah?"

"I really need your help right now..."

"What'd you do now?"

"Holy shit," Bradley gawks at you, and you groan as you cover your face with your hands. Natasha glares from beside you before she hits Bradley in the stomach. The brunette groans as he doubles over slightly before forcing a smile onto his face. "It's not that bad," he tries to reassure you.

Momentarily, you look up at him. With one glimpse of his, you already know he's lying, and you try to muffle a cry. "Idiot!" Natasha seethes as she rubs your back. Bradley raises his hands in mock surrender.

"Sorry!"

"(y/n), it's really not that bad."

"Yeah! It's just, uh, different. You still look beautiful," Bradley says as he smiles at you. Your eyes shift between his face and Natasha's before you give them a weak nod.

"We should get going," you say with a deep breath as you puff your chest out in fake confidence. Fake it until you make it, you know? You'd try to act confident with your new hair, even if you wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and hide. Natasha and Bradley let you lead the way towards the classroom.

Eyes are all you feel as you walk into the classroom and sit beside Javy. You try to shy away from his gaze by placing your chin into your palm, but eventually, you turn to him with your eyes narrowed.

"What?"

"Your hair..."

"I wanted to try something new," you mumble before burying your head into your arms. Maybe you should have called in sick. That'd be better than feeling like everyone's staring at you.

"Princess?" Jake's voice calls from behind you, and your head whips up and around to look at Jake. His usual cocky look is replaced with a dropped jaw and wide eyes. "You...your hair...you..."

You can't help but giggle at his words, "Yeah, I cut it last night when I was a little drunk. Kinda a bad decision," you say, your hand nervously tucking a strand behind your ear. Jake doesn't reply, his jaw still dropped and staring straight at you. Self-conscious, you huff. "If you don't like it, then just say it. I can take it."

"No! I just- uh- well-"

"Okay, let's get started," Pete says as he walks in. "Hangman, quit your drooling and sit down. You can stare at Princess some other time."

"You know, I like you more with the short hair!" Mickey says while handing you a beer. You snort and toast your beers before cheering on Bradley and Bob as they take on Javy and Reuben in pool.

A cough from behind you makes you turn around. Jake is standing there, his cheeks flushed red, and embarrassment is clear on his face. "I wanted to say that I like it— your hair."

Nodding, you lick your lips. "Sorry if I was a little mean in the morning. I just was trying to get used to it."

Jake chuckles and dismisses your apologies. "It definitely will take some time to get used to."

"I thought you'd be thrilled about it."

"Huh?" Confusion spreads all over Jake's face. Seeing him confused, you all raise a brow.

"I mean, you like girls with short hair, right? I figured you'd like my new hair, too."

"Who told you that?"

As you remember the conversation between you and Natasha, your cheeks flush. "Well, no one told me that. I just, like, kinda assumed."

"Assumed?"

"Yeah, I mean, all the girls you take home all have short hair, so I just thought you were into those kinda girls, ya know?"

"So, you've been watching me?" Jake grins, and you realize what your words have implied.

"What?! No! I just—" You're cut off when Jake starts laughing. Groaning, you put your beer down and cover your face. Jake's laughter slowly dies as he reaches for your hands to pull them away from your face.

"For the record, darlin'. I'm into you."

"Huh?"

Jake chuckles before smiling, "I'm not into girls with short hair. I'm into you," his face then looks a little embarrassed, "I thought you were so out of my league that I went after girls that didn't look like you. 'Sides, I never really took any of them back to my place."

A smile starts to grow on your face as you giggle. "You're into me? No jokes?"

"No jokes, darlin'." Without another second passing, you rush forward and press your lips to Jake's, his eagerly molding with yours. Fireworks go off in your belly as Jake's fingers brush against your short strands of hair. You both pull away, and Jake frowns.

"Can you grow your hair back out? You're always beautiful, but the Rapunzel hair was just so you."

#jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #top gun fanfiction #top gun #top gun maverick #x reader top gun #top gun x reader #top gun hangman #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x you #jake seresin fic

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katebishopshands · 1 year

Text

Kate Bishop headcanon list

Some NSFW ideas ahead, read at your own risk

—————————————————————————————————————

• Kate Bishop is fiercely protective. Even before dating she’s always behind you. A suit clad arm around your waist, being pulled close to her. Letting anyone in a 50 mile radius know you’re spoken for

• she is the RIZZLER. She can and will charm her way into your heart or pants

•Kate Bishop is a Swiftie, and you can rip that from my cold dead hands

• Stared shamelessly at Victorias Secret displays and had to have her mom drag her away. Her excuse was that “she was appreciating the art”

• Hands. Hands,hands, hands. They’re veiny, calloused a little from stringing bows up. She occasionally paints her nails black, but it gets chipped from practice. Usually wearing two or three silver rings.

• While on the topic of hands. She plays the Bass guitar. Her dad was big into it and she wanted to be just like him. So being the overachiever she is, she picked it up in middle school against her mothers wishes. And GOD is she good with her fingers, in more ways than one if you know what I mean

• her BACK MUSCLES. Archery isn’t easy and requires a lot of upper body strength. So her biceps and back muscles are killer. While she’s not SHREDDED , she’s lean and definitely in shape. She can and WILL remind you that she’s stronger than she looks. What you would give to see them with nothing in the way.

• Cannot stand wearing dresses. She can and WILL pick at it all night so she opts to wear pants instead.

•Kate can’t braid her own hair. She’s tried and tried over and over again to learn but it always comes out a tangled mess. It’s why her hair is always up in that ponytail

• Shes a shameless flirt. Without meaning to, she has gained herself quite the reputation with the ladies on her college campus. Yknow what they say. Freak in the sheets, lady in the streets.

•big ol baby. She’s going to come home from class or training grumbling about how shitty her day was. All she wants to do is sit in your lap, face in your tits while you rub her back and play with her hair

• Accidental sugar daddy. Girl is LOADED. So she’s spoiling the shit out of you. Paying for your nails and picking out the color, paying for dinner, surprising you with breakfast. Buying you a custom necklace for your one year. You ask her, she will get it.

• Takes being a “dog mom” wayyyy too seriously. Lucky is her life and she will talk about him for hours if you don’t stop her.

• Kate bishop is a munch. And I really do believe that. She’s going to beg to go down on you. And who are you to deny that pretty face?

• little Miss Service top. While she’s a switch through and through, she wants to make YOU feel good when she’s on top. Not without a little bit of teasing though.

• Kiss stealer. She’s going to cut you off mid sentence to take a kiss from you. Tap you on one shoulder and then the other, grab a kiss when you turn to face her.

• weirdly enough can sing. You’re not expecting her to be able to sing, but once she opens her mouth you can’t get enough.

•she’s always covered in cuts and bruises from whatever trouble she found herself in. So you’re always cleaning her up

I have so many of these little ideas because Kates honestly the only thing I thing about, so I WILL be making another one at some point.

#kate bishop #kate bishop x reader #kate bishop x female reader #kate bishop fic #kate bishop smut #kate bishop hawkeye #kate bishop x fem!reader #kate bishop fanfiction #kate bishop mcu #Kate bishop headcanon #mcu #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #hawkeye show #hawkeye series #kate bishop x you #marvel fanfiction #marvel fandom #hailee steinfeld

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updownlately · 8 months

Text

3 - when she could have anyone else?

series masterlist

~~~

Getting a call midst your mid-day nap was not on your list of ideal ways to spend a Sunday.

Calming down the part of you that suggested taking the small buzzing device and chucking it out the window, you groggily reached for the offending item, not bothering to look at the caller ID before picking up.

Mind realizing it could be important, you managed to huff out a somewhat polite ‘hello’, doing your best to stay conscious regardless of the comfort of the soft sheets and warm sunlight surrounding you.

“Can you please explain how Less has no idea how she likes her coffee?”

The blaring voice of Ella rang through your speaker, you wincing at the loudness and pulling the phone away from your ear.

Audibly groaning, you wanted to cry.

Of course, of all the things you could be woken up for on a cherished day off, it’d have to be this.

Wanting to get the conversation over with as quickly as possible, you brought the phone back to your face, eyes closing as your head snuggled into your pillow.

“Is this really why you called?”

Apparently your response was not the one Ella was looking for, the blonde’s voice getting louder.

“HOW? How does Less not know her own coffee order? Explain, because this is absurd!”

“Ella…” This was not a conversation you would’ve liked to get into, wanting more than anything to go back to bed, to your dreamland, where there was no phones, no talks of coffee, and no Ella Toone.

“Listen Tooney, I have no idea. I think that question would be best answered by Alessia herself y’know? The person you’re currently hanging out with, as we speak, as of right now? The one you took from me on our one day off?”

Your frustration seeping through slightly, you willed yourself to calm down. Taking a breath in, you focussed on listening to the other girl’s response.

“She won’t tell me! She says it’s a secret between you and her and I can only know if you tell me!”

Shaking your head into your pillow, you muffled a soft scream before pulling away.

“Tooney, I want you to think back to all the times we’ve all gone out for coffee together...”

Giving her a second to recall the memories, you continued.

“Now, from all those times, how many times has Alessia ordered for herself?”

There was a pregnant pause on the other end of the line, it all finally sinking in for the midfielder.

“…you always order for her!” The revelation caused Ella’s voice to get louder and louder till she was practically yelling once again.

Sighing, you took a breath to calm yourself down.

“Yes. Good job. Great observation. Now, hopefully that answers your question because regardless, I’m going back to sleep. Goodnight Ella.” You didn’t bother waiting for a response, instead hanging up abruptly.

Gently chucking your phone to the other side of the bed, you pulled on your covers, getting comfortable once again.

Eyes closing, you left whatever little sleepiness you had consume you, sinking into the soft sheets.

Finally.

Or so you thought.

It was just as sleep was coming to you again, your eyes closing heavily, that the phone rang once more.

Cursing, you swatted your hand across the bed, eyes still closed. Finding it, you promptly turned off the ringer, the resounding noise disappearing.

Exhaling contentedly, you got comfortable once more, duvet tucked underneath your chin, Alessia's old hoodie the perfect cross between thick and thin for the slight chill in the air.

You were just about to fall asleep again, finding sleep coming to you in the tiniest hints, only to find yourself rudely interrupted by the default ringtone for what seemed like the hundredth time.

Audibly cursing, you grabbed your phone aggressively this time, swiping blindly at your screen until you could hear voices on the other end.

“Ella this better be good or I swear to God I’ll somehow accidentally end up tackling you with my studs up!”

“Now that’s not very nice of you, is it love?” That wasn’t Ella’s shrill voice…

“…Less?” You winced, your voice coming out a little quieter now. You did not want her to think you threatened Ella every time she called you, even though your girlfriend was probably well aware at how trying it could be to sometimes talk to the brunette.

“Hi baby.” You could hear the smile in her voice and you let out an audible sigh of relief.

You could hear Alessia chuckle. “You’re that excited that it isn’t Ella?”

“You don’t understand…I was in the middle of the world’s best nap, and out of nowhere she’s grilling me on your coffee choices! Me! When you’re there next to her!” You whined, making your voice heard.

“In her defence, I told her to call you…”

“Less, whyyyyyy…”

Hearing her melodic laugh at your complaining, you smiled.

“Anyways, I called you because I do need to order and I have no idea what to get.”

Rolling your eyes because of course, you grinned, running through your usual list of questions as you always did, before suggesting a drink to the blonde.

‘Hot/cold, sweet/a bit salty, spicy/sugary’ the basic low-down really.

Once. you had come up with a good drink for the blonde, you recited it to her, having her say it back to you once to confirm she had it correct.

You still couldn’t believe Alessia didn’t know what she liked and you told her as much, your shock carrying over the phone.

“It’s more fun when you do it for me,” the cheeky response the only explanation that you got. “Plus, it’s too hard to remember so many options when I could just ask my personal coffee connoisseur.”

Shaking your head in amusement, you hummed in response, glad that this was becoming a little tradition of yours.

“Anyways, I’ll let you sleep now. Have a good a nap, yeah?”

“Will do, just please ask Tooney to not call me,” you begged.

“I can do that…thank you and sorry for waking you! I’ll see you when I get home! I love you!”

Returning the sentiment, you gently put your phone on your nightstand, not even mad that sleep was evading you for the next couple minutes.

Smiling as you wandered off to dreamland again, you knew you were too far gone for the blonde, unable to fathom the thought of somebody else as your partner, indecisiveness and unwillingness to learn her coffee never a bother when it came to Alessia.

Really, at the end of every day, no matter what, you couldn't imagine yourself with anyone else but Alessia. In fact, you didn't want anybody else, the blonde your favourite person, the best part of you.

#not happy with it tbh but i can't re-do this anymore times- i think the 3rd re-do is enough #to the 2 that sent in the prompt for this- i hope i did it justice!#not proofread as usual #alessia russo x reader #alessia russo imagine #alessia russo #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso community #woso #fluff #my writing #part 3 of a 15 part series :)#bpom #blurb

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dairy-farmer · 3 months

Note

You know the Troupe "trapped in your heart's desire"? The Bats totally can recognize THAT on sight. Have protocol and everything. Bet there's No WAY they'd get caught.

Or IS there~? >:3c

Hatters caught some Supernatural Being, in a long abandoned Manor, in the outskirts of Gotham. It's an Alice in wonderland fever dream. Complete nightmare of a family team up. People sent through walls, weird mists and mysterious goos. Nothing good can come of this.

But they got people to save.

Save them, they do.

The Being is so Grateful~☆. Tim is outside talking to the cops. Warning them of the hazards they found. The Being? Couldn't HELP? But noootice~♡? That their Heros look so very TIRED! So TENSE and UPSET! Heeeere *covers them with something glowing before they can react* that should fix iiiit~♡ ;) ! *poofs away*

They are understandablely alarmed.

God damn it, Magic. Yes, the very concept of it and all the creatures there-in. Get out of their city. They head home. Decontamination showers for DAYS. Everybody gonna get one. Better call Zatana.

Thing is? That shower sure is warm, huh? Those clean clothes sure are COMFY, huh? They don't notice they are drifting off. Getting sleepy. Except Tim.

He notices.

Oh shit. The fall asleep. OH SHIT. Bruce was TYPING. Mid fuckin sentence! PANIC! They turn into gemstones. WHAT MAGICAL FUCKERY-!?

It's about to be a long, loooong few days for JLA Dark. Tim did NOT go on a one man crusade across the planet just to lose his whole ass family to SOME ACTUAL FAIRY'S BULLSHIT. D:<

But this is not ABOUT his side of the story! Is it?

Let's start with Bruce. The sleepy feeling passes. Of course. He has excellent self-discipline. His kids wander upstairs, after patrol exhaustion pulling them away. All... all except Tim.

Who is worried.

Who paces behind him, making calls. Checking databases. Running tests. Exhaustion pulling at every line of him. But not willing to risk it. Bruce hates that he finds such... closeness in this. In the chaos of things gone wrong.

It's like how they were back then. Just another crisis to solve.

The results come in.

He does not let himself be disappointed. This is a GOOD thing. A simple trick. Just a light show. They're fine. Which means...

But behind him? Tim doesn't leave as expected. He mutters in relief, sags in exhaustion, and wanders closer.

Bruce glances up. Perhaps it the exhaustion. He wishes it wasn't. That he hadn't made such a mess of things. That there wasn't such DISTANCE. But... he'll take what chance he can. Anything to mend some of the damage between them.

And Tim DOES look exhausted. Like he's barely standing. It's far worse then when he last saw him a few days ago. Should he say something? Is it overstepping? There was a time when it wouldn't have been.

Tim leans over his shoulder, braced on his chair, to get a better look at the results. Or at least.. he pretends too. His eyes aren't tracking. They stare blankly at the screen as he seems to consider something.

He takes the mouse. To all appearances, casual, as he flips through Bruce's scan report.

Looking for something.

He slumps closer, when he doesn't find it. His hand "accidentally" running over the anti-krptonian sound generator, turning it on. Half drapped across Bruces back, mouth next to his ear.

"You're The Only One I Can Trust..."

We turn now, to Dick. What fantasy does HIS heart hold?

They are tired. Bruce, testing and testing. Being unreasonable. He calls several of his magical contacts from his time at the Titans. It's a genuine, no joke, blessing he's told. "Clarity" he's told in far more words then necessary.

Jason has already stormed off. Damian is starting to snipe. And Tim? Looks ready to cry. At the end of his rope. Frazzled and afraid, certain someone's gonna die. Unable to find anything no matter how many tests he runs because there nothing TO find.

This time... this time Dick can do better. He breaks it up. Sends Damian to bed and tells Bruce he can run whatever tests he damn well wants. Dick already called the experts. They're FINE.

He makes sure to look Tim direct in the eyes when he says the next bit. They're gonna be okay.

He pulls his little brother into a hug. Like he should have done a long time ago. Timmy MELTS against him. Clings like he's a lifeline. He drags him off to bed. His room, since Tim doesn't seem like he wants to let go any time soon.

And Tim? In the dark of his room? Whispers like he's at some sort of confessional.

"I can't do it anymore, Dick. I just CANT. I think... I think I'm going to retire..."

Of course, not every situation flows so seemingly seamless. Jason? Suspects.

He argues with himself, torn between wanting to believe and the paranoia born of being a Bat. Of nice things holding terrible prices. Watches little Red gesture with his slice of pizza, as he rants, about Dickhead being exactly what his name suggests and the family following suit.

Timbers, in his safe house? With pizza and that fancy new drink, that he hasn't told anyone he likes yet? In tight, tight jeans. Agreeing with him. Sitting all close, leaning into him when he talks. Asking about his projects.

It feels like a trap. Too good to be real. He should probably-..!

And that's when Tim kisses him. Just crawls straight into his lap, tasting like pizza and wet dreams, and plants one on him. His brain cuts out.

It starts MELTING, when the body in his lap starts to grind. Rocking perfect, strong, little hips against his cock. Timberts won't be getting his jeans back. They got in the way and take to long to remove. If he doesn't get half his hand inside the tight little body onto of him YESTERDAY, he's gonna cry.

It's his new mission in life to make this fucker forget his own NAME. Fuck him stupid. Turn the safe house into a biohazard. God he tastes so good...

And Damian, of course, suspects nothing. His dick is driving the show and he WANTS to believe. Which is why Timothy Drake, sudden and inexplicable Sexy Supervillian in tight black leather. Makes PERFECT sense.

They are Nemesis.

There are elaborate sexy bondage-esc traps. And tables being turned. Individuals being forced to kneel at each other's feet. Handcuffs. Bitter but DEEPLY sexy acknowledgements of Damian's skill and superiority. Costume changes in other equally sexy and leather outfits.

The fact that his father and Richard are no where to be found? And that he is somehow Batman? Clearly irrelevant. He has a Supervillian to stop! Likely with his dick!

Puberty is a hell of a trip. Damian will never admit to any of this. This incident goes with him to his grave.

But surely? It's not ALL sex? Right? Bruce wasnt-? INCORRECT. We tune BACK into Bruce's sordid "Armageddon" fantasy! To a bunker!

Outside? The world is ending. Bruce and Tim, our Heroic Survivors, hold each other close. They have never been closer. Lines have long ago blurred. Morals shifted. Bruce can... let go.

No longer hold himself to the codes that he spent so long strangling himself with. Blaming himself under. He runs his hands across familiar flesh and it is not familial. He can at last be soft. Decadent.

Fill his boy until there's no more room for anything else, and bring him nothing but pleasure as hell rages beyond the bunker walls. Kiss and be sweet, be honest. Because it's all over.

Bruce's is trapped in a fuck bunker. He's not going anywhere. And Dick?

Well Timmy retired. It was a shit storm. So big a shit storm, Tim moved to Bludhaven. In with Dick.

Finally finished schooling. Started College. Started learning to cook. Finally slept more. Was healthy. Happy.

Wanted to cuddle. Cuddles lead to feelings. Lead to kisses. Lead to a better apartment and a nicer, bigger bed.

Lead to Dick fucking his little brother incoherent to christen the new place. They're like newlyweds. Fucking like rabbits. After patrol quickies, good morning oral, mid day "god you look sexy in my sweater"s. The domestic bliss he could never achieve.

Could they get out? Yes. If they FOUGHT it. But they don't. And outside Tim runs himself ragged. Nearly losses ANOTHER organ. Holds the Summer King at knife point. Gives Constantine alcohol poisoning.

But he does it. He gets his family back. And THIS time? Is finally, FINALLY rewarded with hugs.

He saved the day! He did it! He... may pass out. Ignore the bleeding. But its? The WEIRDEST thing? His family is finally affectionate, which is awesome, but??? He feels like he's missing something? Eh. He'll figure it out in the morning?

Oh? Cuddle pile? Hell yeah he'd love too!

tim in the real world running himself ragged while the rest of his family are indulging in their wetdreams and fantasies of being able to fuck tim without consequences 😭😭😭!!!!!!!

#answered asks #asks #anonymous

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acescorazon · 5 months

Note

Buggy x Mihawk x Crocodile prompt: With Buggy's chop chop powers and just picture his body parts popping off mid-coitus. Like Crocodile gets too enthusiastic kissing Buggy and his head comes clean off, or Mihawk's got his hand on Buggy only to end up his disembodied manhood in his hand from tugging a little too hair. It's freaky and unexpected and weird, but Crocodile and Mihawk roll with it, leading to some really interesting fun times with their clown.

Title: Pieces

Rating: E (or however the hell the young folk are rating fics on tumblr.com.)

Word count:5966

Warnings: Smut, Dirty talk, Dom/Sub, Praise kink, Degradation kink, (I don't know why i'm always paring the two together either.), Crying, Spanking, implied choking, implied hair pulling, brief face fucking, subspace, multiple orgasms ((you only see one bc i'm lazy though :) ))....Buggy takes his own dick in this.

Summary:

Now, this is the perfect time to make it known that the Chop Chop Fruit is a rather interesting devil fruit … Buggy has had his powers for over two decades now, and there are times when he genuinely forgets that he even has them. Sometimes he gets scared or startled and, without knowing it, his entire body responds accordingly to his emotions; In an almost cartoonish manner, his head and limbs and everything else all detach from him, and go flying in all different directions, openly displaying his true emotions for the world, and it’s only after he’s recovered that he realizes that his body isn’t put together like it should be or isn’t even together at all.

Uh, that kind of thing happens all the time when he’s suddenly startled or scared… but it’s not something that has ever happened during sex before.

Until now…

Buggy’s mind is a hazy mess. He can no longer remember if he’s in the middle of a punishment or a reward…Perhaps this is an act of servitude instead? He… He can’t remember…Mihawk and Crocodile have been fucking him for so long now, that Buggy can’t even remember what started all this. There have been scorching insults thrown at him, but there have also been sweet praises whispered to him and against his skin, so who knows what this is?

Buggy lies on his side, and Crocodile’s holding one of Buggy’s legs up as he slams into him from behind, and all Buggy can do is whimper at this point. As for Hawkeye, he’s lying in front of Buggy, whispering praises and words of encouragement to him as he jerks Buggy’s cock. Buggy has no idea what the hell Mihawk’s even saying though because all he seems to be able to do is concentrate on the endless pleasure his two lovers are giving him.

He feels so… Jesus, how can he even describe how he feels right now? They’ve fucked him so good tonight, that he’s at the point where he constantly feels…unbelievable. Everything’s a little much, but he can’t help but want more at the same time. It’s insane. He feels amazing. He can barely think, and what little thoughts he does have are usually hard to process and about how good he feels.

How many times have they made him come tonight? Two times… No, no, Three times. They’ve given him three mind-blowing orgasms, each one more intense than the last, and good God, he didn’t even think that was humanly possible, But Mihawk and Crocodile did it. They fucking did it, they’ve made him come over and over again. After each orgasm, they’d simply chuckle and cover him in kisses, and maybe they’d praise him and say something like, ‘Oh, that’s it. That’s a good boy.’, but he does vaguely remember one of his orgasms where they laughed at him, and went: ‘Don’t think we’re stopping just because you came, slut.’ (Was that his first toe-curling orgasm?... He thinks it was.)

What was he talking about…?

Right, orgasms. He’s had three orgasms already… And after each one of his orgasms, Crocodile and Mihawk made Buggy so dizzy with their sudden shift in personalities. They’d go from how they normally are in bed: Mean and rough to sweet and loving. They’d cover him in kisses and gentle touches after he’d come too, asking if he could continue, and Buggy would nod eagerly. In return, they’d praise him some more and say that they knew Buggy could keep going and that he’s such a good little clown…

Heh… He’s their good little clown.

Buggy didn’t think he’d be able to reach his climax a second time, let alone a third time, but somehow Mihawk and Crocodile’s kisses and touches, and words of encouragement keep getting him hard. Sometimes it’s taken a bit longer to get him excited, but his lovers are dedicated to their craft and somehow know how to get Buggy hard even after he’s come.

God, and now Crocodile and Mihawk are trying to get a fourth orgasm out of him. They claim that they know Buggy can give them one more orgasm, but Buggy doesn’t know if that’s possible. They’ve gotten him hard again, which, kudos to both Mihawk and Crocodile for doing that, but even though he feels incredible, he doesn’t think that he’ll come any time soon. He knows that Mihawk and Crocodile will keep going all damn night if they have to, though.

Buggy’s hair clings to his sweaty face, and Crocodile and Mihawk didn’t just make a mess out of his body and his mind, they’ve also ruined Buggy’s perfectly styled hair by either roughly yanking on his soft blue locks during a heated moment or whilst playing with it during one of their periods of recovery. Buggy was probably pissed earlier in the night about them messing up his hair, but at this point, he’s too far gone to care about anything but the pleasure he’s receiving.

Buggy has no idea what kind of noises he’s making right now, but they have to be pathetic because Mihawk starts cooing at him and shushing him gently, “Shh.” he whispers, not that Buggy really pays attention to him, “You’re okay. You’re doing so, so good.” He tells Buggy as his hand glides up and down Buggy’s sensitive cock, almost in perfect sync with Crocodile’s thrusts. Mihawk himself has already come, but he wants to make sure that Buggy’s taken care of, and his tenderness and selflessness are something that Buggy’s always loved about him.

Buggy whimpers in response to… Whatever it is that Mihawk’s saying and, as Mihawk’s talking to him, Crocodile calls out from behind him in a rough, breathless voice, “Fuck, Buggy,” He grunts, “Gimme another kiss.” he orders, and then he’s nudging his cold metal hook against the side of Buggy’s face, urging him to turn his head and give him what he wants. In a daze, Buggy smashes his lips against Crocodile’s and quickly finds out that just a simple kiss right now is a little overwhelming for him. Too much is going on for him to know how to respond to what, and he lets Crocodile take control of their whole kiss, knowing Crocodile prefers to be in charge anyways.

Buggy’s eyes fall close for a brief moment as he loses himself to the feelings of Crocodile’s tongue and sinful hips, and also the firm grasp of Mihawk’s hand. So good, so, so good. He’s never felt this good in his entire life. Crocodile’s thrusts are growing rougher, sloppier as well, and a bit too pleasurable for poor Buggy, but he’s rewarded for taking everything that Crocodile’s giving him with praises from Mihawk and gentle kisses across his sore neck, which, by the way, is covered with hickies and faint marks left from when Crocodile had his hand around Buggy’s throat.

Crocodile breaks away from their kiss, gasping for air, “Fuck, you feel too fucking good,” He curses, “You’re going to make me come again, baby.” He warns, and then he places his mouth against Buggy’s ear. His breath comes out in quick, warm puffs of air against Buggy’s sweat-drenched skin, making him shiver just a little as he starts whispering to him, “Do you want me to come in you, baby?” He asks with a chuckle. “Huh? Want me to fill you up, pretty thing?” he asks, like he and Mihawk haven’t both already come in him enough tonight… Still, Buggy nods his head enthusiastically, “Plea…Please,” He yammers, “Baby, please…” and he can’t recognize his own voice because of how hoarse he sounds as he replies to Crocodile.

You can always tell how far along the night has come just by the way Buggy replies to his two lovers: If he’s smug, mouthy, and refusing to take orders or say what Crocodile and Mihawk want him to say, then Mihawk and Crocodile probably haven’t gotten their hands on him and shown him who’s boss yet. If he’s a pathetic whimpering, sobbing mess who would say and beg for anything no matter how humiliating, they’ve either started fucking him senseless or are in the middle of doing so…

“What… What was that?” Crocodile grunts, picking up his pace and pounding into Buggy with his rough, skillful hips, and somehow, despite being close to orgasming for the second time himself, he seems like he still has it in him to tease the shit out of his lover, “Couldn’t hear you.” Oh, he heard Buggy, Crocodile just wants to have his ego stroked a little bit. And, perhaps, if this were earlier in the night, Buggy would refuse to beg for something so degrading… but fuck it.

Buggy’s voice comes out sounding weak and cracks a little as he speaks, but he still repeats himself, now almost chanting, “Please… Please,” He whines, trying desperately to get his sentences to come out and make sense, but his own pleasure is making things a little difficult, “Please, don’t stop… Please, come in me… i’m begging you.”

Mihawk chuckles, sounding rather amused at all Buggy’s whining and pleading, “Crocodile, give him what he wants.” He orders softly, and now the hand that Mihawk has around Buggy is pumping his leaky cock faster, and if Crocodile didn’t have a death grip on him right now, Buggy would try to fuck into Mihawk’s fist, but he can’t, so he just continues to whimper noisily. “How could you say no to such a pretty little thing like him, especially when he’s practically begging?” Yeah… how could he say no to a pretty little thing like Buggy?

At this point… Buggy will agree to anything they want, they make him feel so fucking incredible that it’s insane. If they told him to beg to be fucked all night, he would. If they told him to tell them they were the best lovers he’s ever had and that no one can compare to them, he would. If they wanted Buggy to say that he belongs to them and them only, he would… Fuck, if they told him to get on his knees and bark like a dog, he wou–

Never mind.

Buggy and Crocodile get tangled up in another messy, tongue-filled kiss a moment after Mihawk orders Crocodile to stop screwing around and fill Buggy with more of his come, and now as they make out sloppily, the former warlord fucks him with rough, wild thrusts, trying to reach his climax. Buggy grabs onto anything he can get his hands on, which in this case, just so happens to be one of Mihawk’s biceps, and he squeezes him tightly as a wave of pleasure washes over his body. “Fuck, fuck,” Buggy mewls, and his cries of pleasure continue to grow in volume, but one particularly hard thrust to Buggy’s prostate has Buggy yelping.

That… That … Oh, sweet fucking god.

Uh, that kind of thing happens all the time when he’s suddenly startled or scared… but it’s not something that has ever happened during sex before.

Until now…

Crocodile has made Buggy feel amazing all night long, but Buggy didn’t truly realize just how much Crocodile was affecting him. He doesn’t realize it at first but, there’s a moment after Crocodile slams into his prostate, where Buggy gets perhaps a bit too excited. His head, his arms, his legs, good lord, even his dick, all excitedly fly from his body as Buggy hastily breaks his and Crocodile’s kiss to moan loudly. He just felt so fucking incredible. His cloudy brain also doesn’t register the brief moment where both Crocodile and Mihawk’s movements falter and they both stare at him with questionable expressions written all over their faces, but he eventually realizes that something isn’t quite right.

The idea of having all his body parts detaching because he got too worked up during sex is…kind of mortifying to Buggy. He tries to put himself back together quickly, whilst Crocodile is still fucking him from behind, but Mihawk keeps his hand around Buggy’s cock firmly, refusing to let it go and let Buggy reattach it to his body, “Wait… I have an idea.” He announces slowly.

Buggy is a weird combination of embarrassed and painfully aroused right now… He doesn’t know what he wants to do at that moment. Does he want to run away? Does he want to hide? Does he want to apologize? He doesn’t know what he wants to do, all he knows is Mihawk suddenly has a mischievous look in his eyes. “Open your mouth for me.” He orders.

Buggy’s face is red, in fact, his cheeks are on fire right now, and he can barely even maintain eye contact with Hawkeye, and it’s partly because Crocodile is still chasing after his own orgasm and because Buggy just did the most embarrassing thing ever. “Open.” Mihawk orders again, this time sounding a little more stern, and Buggy whines in response, parting his lips obediently.

Buggy doesn’t know what he was expecting Mihawk to do after he ordered him to open his mouth, but he definitely wasn’t expecting Mihawk to shove Buggy’s detached cock in between his own painted lips. Uh, he was probably thinking something more along the lines of Mihawk shoving his fingers or his tongue into Buggy’s mouth instead, but obviously, that would have been too practical.

Now, to be honest, Buggy has sucked his own dick before, but it’s only been a couple of times when he was much younger, and he isn’t the biggest fan of it because it’s usually too much for him to handle and he feels so weird about the whole idea. Mihawk feels differently, apparently, and takes it upon himself to use Buggy’s cock more or less as a sex toy. Where he got the idea, Buggy doesn’t know, but he shoves his cock roughly in and out of Buggy’s mouth while watching him with curious yellow eyes.

Buggy’s own mouth feels so hot and velvety around his dick, and it feels really weird being able to feel the vibrations around his cock from his own moans, and even weirder when Mihawk makes him choke on his own cock, but it’s a good weird. Buggy lets his eyes fall shut again as he lets Crocodile and Mihawk take over completely and use both of his holes. God, this shouldn’t be doing the things it’s doing to him right now. He loves it. He loves them.

“Captain Buggy,” Mihawk calls out in a playful voice, and Buggy can just hear the smugness in his voice. He loves this shit, of course, he loves seeing Buggy ruined. “Do you like choking on your own cock?” He asks, chuckling. No. Yes. No. Yes. Maybe. Buggy doesn’t know, he doesn’t want to think about any of this anymore, he just wants them to keep fucking him.

Buggy really didn’t think that he would be able to come a fourth time, but he can feel his orgasm building up in his gut now. God, how do Mihawk and Crocodile do it? How do they know his body so well? How do they know just the right things to do and say to make Buggy burn with arousal? They somehow always know just how to grab, touch, kiss, and fuck him so that Buggy is left a trembling, whining mess afterwards, but how? How do they do it?!

“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” Crocodile announces with a grunt, digging his blunt fingernails underneath Buggy’s upper thigh. He’s so big and his cock feels amazing, and Buggy tries to beg him to come again, but finds it extremely hard with Mihawk still fucking his mouth with his own dick. Instead, Buggy’s muffled and choked pleas fill the room as Crocodile quickens his pace, thrusting into him a couple of more times before he suddenly grabs him hard, and comes inside him with a long, loud groan.

Buggy whines. He’s close, and somehow Crocodile’s quick, brutal thrusts weren’t enough to take him over the edge, but he wants to come. He wants to, he needs to, he… He opens his eyes, glancing at Mihawk with teary eyes, silently pleading for him to do something, anything as he grabs onto his forearm and squeezes it tightly.

Mihawk raises his eyebrow at Buggy, “Oh, do you want to come again, darling?” He asks, and a moment later he slowly pulls Buggy’s cock from in between his lips so that he can answer him.

Buggy wipes the drool from the side of his mouth, not bothered when he sees a blotch of red on his fist from the remnants of his lipstick. His makeup has long since been ruined by Crocodile and Mihawk and has either been kissed, cried, or drooled off because of a certain pair of former warlords, but he doesn’t care about that either anymore. “Yes, please.” He replies in a rough voice, hoping that his reply is good enough for Mihawk.

Mihawk gives him a beautiful, yet mischievous little smile, “Okay.” He agrees, nodding before adding, “I have another idea though, okay, darling?” He tells Buggy. God, should Buggy be scared? “How about we put this to good use?” He asks with a grin, holding up Buggy’s dick. Huh? Buggy thinks at that moment, utterly confused.

Oh, that’s… Well, Buggy can’t say that he’s ever… Sure, he’s sucked his own dick before. but he’s never used his dick to, uh… well, what he’s saying is this would definitely be a first for Buggy. Still, Buggy can’t say he’s entirely against what Mihawk is suggesting right now… Just… isn’t it a little weird…?

Crocodile slowly pulls out of Buggy with a small groan. He’s still recovering from his orgasm as he slowly lowers Buggy’s leg back down, “That’d be fucking hot.” He mutters, panting slightly, “You want us to fuck you with your own cock, huh, Buggy?” Well. Buggy isn’t against it, but again, isn’t it…weird?

Buggy speaks up, and this time his voice is tiny, “Uh, i don’t mind but… wouldn’t that be … weird…?” He asks, trying to figure out if Crocodile and Mihawk are serious about this whole thing or if they’re just fucking with him.

“Nah. Here give me that thing.” That thing? Does… Does Crocodile mean Buggy’s literal dick? Oh, god. Oh, god, this is actually happening, oh god. Crocodile and Mihawk really do treat Buggy’s detached dick like it’s the world’s most realistic dildo, and don’t mind passing it around to each other. They… They do know that Buggy can feel everything even if his dick isn’t attached to his body…right?

All three of them are still lying on their sides, drenched in sweat and a little worn out from all the night’s activities, and Crocodile doesn’t seem in any rush to change their position, but he does pull Buggy’s ass a little closer to him before he… He presses the tip of Buggy’s cock against his hole, and Buggy’s taken cock all night; Crocodile and Mihawk have been taking turns using his mouth and ass as they see fit, but… Oh, this is different.

Buggy makes a weird, strangled sound and involuntarily grabs a hold of Mihawk, squirming slightly, which causes Crocodile to pause for a moment, “Does it hurt?” He asks. No, it doesn’t hurt but it feels… Good god. “No, just…” Buggy whines, it’s a little much and Crocodile only pushed the tip in. “It’s a lot…” He mutters, and Crocodile asks if he wants him to stop, but Buggy shakes his head vigorously.

God, why would he ever want to stop?

Crocodile slowly eases Buggy’s own, hard, leaking cock into him, and how do you even describe something like this? It’s something akin to masturbation, but a hell of a lot more pleasurable because he can feel everything. Buggy can feel his own cock nudged up against his prostate which in its own right is mind-numbing, but he can also feel the tightness of his own ass. It’s weird, and it’s a lot, and Buggy really wants to come again.

As soon as Crocodile starts moving Buggy’s cock, these pathetic, breathless, and whiny sounds come flying out of Buggy’s mouth, and he can’t control them. They’re loud and unfiltered, and both Crocodile and Mihawk seem entertained by Buggy’s reaction. “This is the loudest you’ve been all night, my love.” Mihawk chuckles, and his partner-in-crime adds his own comment a moment later, “Shit, Buggy, if you wanted us to fuck you with your own cock, all you had to do was ask.” He teases. That’s the thing, Buggy never even considered something like that until they brought up the idea.

Buggy doesn’t know what to say to either of those comments, but it’s not like he can reply anyways. The pleasure he’s feeling at this very moment is intense, enough to render him a babbling mess. Too much. It’s too much…But, it’s so good, so, so, good. He closes his eyes and whines, burying his face in Mihawk’s shoulder, and he thought he could only focus on the pleasure he was receiving before, but he was wrong. Right now, as Crocodile roughly shoves Buggy’s own cock in and out of him, the only thing that he can focus on is all the sensations that he’s feeling.

So, so good.

He briefly registers Crocodile and Mihawk pressing against him, sandwiching him between them as they begin kissing, and usually Buggy loves watching those slow, sensual kisses his partners engage in, but tonight…? That’s the furthest thing from Buggy’s mind. He can’t watch them and enjoy the little show like he normally would. Which is a shame, but he has all the time in the world to enjoy the sight of Mihawk and Crocodile making out. “I…I…Oh,” Buggy struggles to communicate something with his partners, but he’s not sure what he’s even trying to say or if words are just involuntarily leaving his mouth at this point.

Mihawk and Crocodile are practically unfazed by Buggy’s rambling, too caught up in their own kiss to care about their lover’s incoherent whines and whimpers, that is, until Buggy starts mumbling something about wanting more. “Ah, i…” Buggy cries out, and his voice is continuing to rise in volume, peaking once Crocodile suddenly rams Buggy’s cock into his prostate. “Please…” His eyesight goes blurry for a moment as tears gather in his eyes, and he holds onto Mihawk harder, shaking now as Crocodile fucks him. “Please… please more.” He doesn’t understand how something can be too much and yet not enough at the same time.

Crocodile cackles, now breaking his and Mihawk’s kiss so that he can tease and torment an already wrecked Buggy. He mocks all of Buggy’s reactions from his cries of pleasure down to his sniffles, loving what he’s doing to poor Buggy. “Ah… ah… again…again…do that again…” He laughs, “Ah, ah, more.” That’s… Buggy didn’t say that, did he? “Baby, please~” Crocodile pretends to whine, and afterwards is once again back to laughing at Buggy.

Buggy’s face grows hot again. He’s embarrassed yet he wants more of it all, he wants to hear Crocodile’s deep, seductive voice even if all he’s doing is teasing Buggy. Or even if he can’t fully comprehend what he’s saying, Buggy still wants to hear him, he wants to hear Mihawk too. “Fucking look at this shit,” Crocodile orders him, once again using his hook to nudge Buggy’s head to the side and making him watch as he thrusts Buggy’s cock in and out of him, “You know you’re moaning like a slut from being fucked by your own cock, right?” He sneers.

No. Yes. No. He… He’s not moaning like a slut… is he?

Mihawk chuckles, leaning down to press a kiss against the side of Buggy’s temple as said man watches intently as Crocodile continues to roughly fuck him with his own dick, almost caught up in a trance now by the sight. “I think he sounds pretty when he gets like this.” Mihawk says, “Come on, Buggy, I know you can be louder than that.” he insists, “Come on, show us how much you’re enjoying yourself, darling.”

“Oh, god, don’t get him started.” Crocodile groans, but there’s a wide smirk on his face now, “The whole island will hear his ass if he gets any louder.”

Buggy ignores his boyfriends, he’s still mesmerized by the erotic sight of his own detached cock being roughly thrust in and out of him. Things are always a lot more intense whenever Buggy can see himself getting fucked whether it be by Crocodile or Mihawk… or … or even himself? He moans again at everything: the feeling in his gut from having his prostate hit again, the warmth and unbelievable tightness from his own ass surrounding his cock, and the sight of it all happening right in front of him as he lies on his side and takes everything.

“Get your ass up and on your hands and knees, Buggy.” Crocodile orders, all of a sudden, and when Buggy takes a little too long to respond, both Mihawk and Crocodile change his position for him. It’s quick, all of a sudden they’re leaving his side, almost in sync, and then they’re roughly rolling Buggy onto his stomach before both of them move behind him.

Buggy starts whining loudly again, annoyed that his pleasure was suddenly put on hold for the moment so that Mihawk and Crocodile could switch their positions. How dare they stop? Buggy was fine being fucked on his side. He didn’t say to stop or move! He just wants to be fucked so bad, and he wants to come too! They know that and yet they still stopped fucking him! How annoying… They’re terrible, horrible, mean boyfriends.

Buggy’s incoherent complaints earn him a hard slap on the ass a moment later as Mihawk, or maybe it’s Crocodile, forces him up and onto his knees. “Quit whining, brat.” Crocodile mutters as he hands Buggy’s cock back over to Mihawk.

As if Buggy hasn’t been spanked enough tonight. He turns his head to look at Crocodile with a bit of a pout. His ass is still a little tender from earlier when Crocodile and Mihawk literally took turns spanking him and mocking him as he cried…which again brings up the question: Was this all a punishment or a reward? The lines often cross and blur together with the two of them, and they often give him a little bit of punishment in the middle of their rewards, but sometimes there’s softness and love, and praises in their punishments…

Man, who cares? Buggy just wants to be fucked.

Mihawk takes Buggy’s cock into his hands again before he spits into one of them, rubbing and coating Buggy’s dick in more drool, “Just be a little more patient,” He tells Buggy, obviously trying to make sure Buggy’s cock is wet enough before he starts fucking him with it again. Buggy’s needy and impatient though, and continues to whine as he shakes his hips from side to side, an act, which of course, earns him another harsh slap on the ass from Crocodile. He whines as his tears continue to fall from his eyes, and he can’t tell if he’s crying from being hit or from his own frustration. Maybe it’s both.

When Mihawk finally plunges Buggy’s own spit-covered cock into him, Buggy gasps sharply and drops his head down into the pillow in front of him, moaning. God, why does this feel so good? This shouldn’t feel as good as it does… is it because he’s already come before? Or is it because he’s close to climaxing again? He’s not sure, but Crocodile is suddenly calling out to him again. Ugh, what now? “Start fucking yourself.” He orders, “You better watch too, got it?” God, why is he ordering Buggy to do things when Buggy can barely piece together a coherent thought?

Buggy picks his head up a moment later and looks over his shoulder, noticing briefly how Mihawk and Crocodile have their tongues in each other’s mouths again, and he slowly starts moving his hips backwards, fucking himself on his own cock, and enjoying the sight a lot more than he should. Buggy’s hot, tired, and embarrassed, but none of that can stop him from wanting to keep going. He needs this. He couldn’t stop even if he wanted to, he wants to be fucked so, so bad. That’s all he wants right now, no more, and no less.

He knows his fourth orgasm is coming, but he has to work for it a little bit. He doesn’t mind though, he feels amazing, especially when he throws his hips back and hits his prostate with his own cock, fucking that amazing spot within, and leaving himself gasping and crying for more. Buggy makes sure to let Mihawk and Crocodile know how good he feels, but he’s not making as much sense as he thinks he is right now. Whatever, he just feels good, okay?

No matter how many times he says it, no one seems to truly understand just how much pleasure he’s receiving right now. He never wants it to stop, and he thinks that he would be fine if Mihawk and Crocodile wanted him to go another round with them, but maybe that’s just his horniness talking. Yeah, it’s probably just that. He continues to fuck himself on his own dick until one particularly hard hit to his prostate has him practically crying again from the overwhelming pleasure it causes. He stops moving his hips, letting Mihawk fuck him with his own detached hard-on instead, quick and rough, just like he likes it.

“Oh, are you tired?” Crocodile chimes in from behind him with a small laugh. He gives Mihawk one last kiss and runs his hand through his damp, raven locks before he moves to join Buggy at the top of the bed.

There’s another brief shift in their positions, one that happens so fast that Buggy’s foggy brain doesn’t even process it’s happening at first. He ends up with his head in Crocodile’s lap, but Crocodile doesn’t tell him to do anything, he just allows him to rest his head as he slowly starts to run his hands through Buggy’s hair. A sudden shift in his behavior always leaves Buggy dizzy. He seems to know just when to be mean to Buggy and when to be nice to him, and the same could be said for Hawkeye. God, Buggy loves them.

“Okay, okay, just relax, we got you,” Crocodile tells him in a soft voice. Buggy’s practically a puddle of mush as Crocodile and Mihawk take care of their worn-out and practically incoherent clown. He’d collapse into the mattress if Mihawk didn’t have one arm wrapped around his waist as he continues to slam Buggy’s own cock in and out of him faster, now quietly urging Buggy to come for him. God, Buggy wants to come so bad, and he’s practically sobbing into Crocodile’s thigh. “I know, I know,” He coos, “You’re okay, you’re almost there.”

Both Mihawk and Crocodile start to gently coax him into orgasming, whispering to him how he’s so good and pretty, and he doesn’t need to hold back. That he can come, and that he’s going to look so pretty once he does. God, they’re too much. “Come on, baby, come for us. I know you can do it.” Crocodile tells him.

“Oh, you poor thing. I know it’s too much, but you can take it.” Mihawk reassures him a moment later, “Come on, come for me and Crocodile. Make us proud, darling.” God, Buggy squeezes his eyes shut as the tears run down his face. He can’t do this, it’s all so much. It’s so good, but it’s too much. He sobs, a babbling mess now as he feels his orgasm finally about to hit. “That’s it, that’s it, Buggy,” Mihawk says softly, and when he hits Buggy’s prostate again, Buggy fucking loses it.

All the muscles in Buggy’s body suddenly tighten as his orgasm hits him, and he’s left coming hard, spilling into his own ass. It’s intense and he doesn’t think he’s ever going to stop coming, but when he finally does, he goes limp in Mihawk’s grip. He’s panting and shaking from his orgasm, and still crying a little, but he feels so, so good. So light, so weightless, so loved and protected, and…

“Buggy?”

“Baby?”

“My sweet, are you okay?”

Here’s the thing: Buggy knows that Mihawk and Crocodile are talking to him, he can hear their voices, but he… He’s so caught up in his own ecstasy, that he either doesn’t want to put the energy into replying to them, or he just can’t, and he isn’t sure which one it is. He just wants to enjoy himself and this feeling of floatiness that’s consuming his entire body for a moment. God, he feels so amazing, so lightweight and happy, and a little sleepy…

Mihawk lowers Buggy’s hips, slowly and carefully, still calling out to him, and a moment later he and Crocodile flip Buggy over and sit him up, checking on him because he still hasn’t replied to them. “Are you okay, Buggy?” Mihawk asks, crawling up towards Buggy and cupping his face, “Hm?” He repeats a moment later as he gently moves Buggy’s hair out of his face and begins to cover him in kisses.

Crocodile joins in on the moment of softness, also kissing Buggy’s flustered and sweaty face, “Was it too much for you?” he asks.

Buggy blinks slowly. His entire being is shaking right now, he’s never… he’s never experienced such an intense orgasm, and he’s still trying to recover from it. He feels…god, he feels so good though, that’s all he can say. He hums in response a moment later, finally giving Mihawk and Crocodile the reply they so desperately want, but he doesn’t bother to do more than that. “You did so good, darling.” Mihawk whispers to him a moment later, “We’re so proud of you.” Proud? They’re proud of him?

Buggy closes his eyes and just enjoys their hugs and kisses and soft touches for a moment, feeling his already pounding heart, pick up a beat every time Crocodile or Mihawk, or both praise him.

“We are,” Crocodile confirms a moment later, “You were amazing,” He praises him with a soft, warm smile, then adds, “We love you so, so much, Buggy.” Oh, god. Buggy loves them too.

“We do, we love you.” Mihawk agrees.

Mihawk and Crocodile carefully get Buggy out of bed after that, still muttering soft praises and words of affection to him as they get him all cleaned up and then help him get himself dressed, because Buggy’s still a shaky, puddle of goo that can barely function. He’s a happy puddle of goo, though, that’s for sure. After that, they ask him if he wants to cuddle on the couch and watch a movie, and Buggy can only nod in response.

Crocodile picks out the movie they’re going to watch, going on and on about how he’s the only one among the three of them who has any tastes in movies before putting on arguably the worst action film Buggy’s ever seen in his life. Buggy doesn’t really pay attention to the movie though, he sits in the middle of his two boyfriends, curled up with them in a giant blanket and resting his head against Mihawk’s shoulder as said man lazily plays with his hair. Buggy’s still feeling all light and floaty from his orgasm even long after the three of them have stopped making love, and soon finds himself peacefully falling asleep to the sounds of the two loves of his life bickering about the quality of the movie they’re watching.

#Asks #cross guild #still can't believe she (the fanfic) won the poll but she did #i swear to god there's already a fic like this but maybe there's a market for more alksjdklasjdaskd #anyways this ask is still so funny to me and i hope you're having a good day wherever you are op and i hope u like this #kjljaslkdjasd sorry mihawk and crocodile didnt have a bigger reaction but i kinda of feel like they'd just be like #....hm... so THAT happened...anyways #lasdjlkajsdlkajsdlkas #smut

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v3nusxsky · 11 months

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I'm ill at the moment so I was wondering if you could do a lesso or larissa (your choice) where r is sick and tries to hide it by still teaching but the other notices and looks after them

Let me look after you| h&c

*Authors note~ I hope this provides some comfort for anyone who needs it, it's providing me comfort by writing it. Dt ~ rip ems🥺🤭*

Trigger warnings~ sick r mentions of being sick

Prompt~see ask.^^^^^

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

You hate being sick, that's a fact. But this time it was even worse because you couldn't find your special bear. You normally kept him on the shelf by your bed but you'd not been able to find him for the last week. It didn't bother you so much when you were feeling okay. But now you were sick you would be lying to say you didn't want to curl up into bed with him and sleep the aches and pains away.

Instead you decided to push through the pain, you woke up after Larissa left for her office, with coughs that were wrecking your lungs so much so you thought they'd collapse. Your nose running like a facet and your head pounding as if it was being beaten with a spiked bat. You tried to shift into a sitting position as your aching muscles protested your vision started to blur. How on earth did you think you'd get through the rest of the day?

You knew if Larissa knew you were sick she'd excuse you and herself from classes and work and she'd take care of you. But you don't like being sick and inconveniencing people especially Larissa. She loves her job and she is amazing at it, you know of the stress it brings so why would you bother her with a silly little cold?

You somehow dragged yourself from the sheets sipped on water and took some medicine for the symptoms, stuffing your pockets off tissues you set off for your class. Thankfully most had mid exams so you'd not have to worry about your scratchy throat being overused too much. You'd only got through one period and you felt like death warmed up. You were pretty sure you'd have no voice at the end of the day even with the minimal talking you were doing.

Your dry crackly cough was screwing with Wednesdays concentration, a quick glance around the room showed many other students shooting you concerned looks. So of course Wednesday had to be the one to abruptly leave the classroom before you could even finish your fit of coughing.

Larissa knew you were stubborn but to think of you struggling to work in your condition made her heart constrict at Wednesdays words. Despite her monotone voice and lack of facial expression, Larissa knew Wednesday was also concerned for your health. The young Addams seem to have a soft spot for you so she thanked her and went on her way to find you.

The class ended and students left before you collapsed taking in the papers, the sickness now raging on with a fever that was borderline dangerous. That's how Larissa found you. "Darling? Oh god my love you have to stop being so stubborn"she murmured scooping up your collapsed body. She gently carried you to your joint bedroom before sending a quick email to others letting them know you needed covering and Larissa would be working from "home."

You began to stir moaning in pain as you felt the uncomfortable heat of your fever raging on. "Ris" you whimpered before your eyes were even open. "I'm here darling can I take your temperature?" You whimpered allowing her to touch your forehead. "Darling, it's much to high let's go cool you off, get some medicine for you and you can sleep all cuddled up with me. How does that sound love?" Larissa didn't even wait for your sleepy hum of approval before getting you a cool bath and some medicine to fight the illness.

She was careful but quick and it wasn't long before you were cuddled up on her chest in one of her big t shirts that she would always deny owning if asked. "Mmm sorry mm sick" you whimpered only to be hushed by the blonde. "Hush sweetheart, sleep now okay?" You immediately clung to her in your feverish haze, "stay." Larissa couldn't help but chuckle, "of course darling, I'm here now rest."

Word count~ 739

#larissa weems #anon answered #v3nusxsky answers #fanfic #anon requested #principal larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #principal larissa weems x reader #larissa x reader #larissa x you #weems #principal weems

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the-ace-with-spades · 7 months

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(I don't have the energy to make some cover tiles for this chapter but here it is for the people who read it on tumblr)

5 times Jake crossed paths with Fire Lieutenant Bradshaw and 1 time he met Maverick's son

Part Four | read on ao3

The Officer's Son | 1.6k

Jake is walking down the corridor, steps fast — he’s already late to the pre-flight briefing and Maverick seems laid back but he’s sure even he had limits.

He is marching through the whole building, passing an intersecting corridor and does a double take when he glances to the right. He is sure he’s imagined him, but he still stops mid-step and turns back around, takes a deep breath and he swears he hears Javy’s voice as he struts to his goal, suddenly disinterested in impressing Maverick. Act normal.

Because Bradshaw is standing in the middle of a corridor of NAS North Island.

If this ain’t fate, he doesn’t know what is.

“Didn’t know we had a fire inspection today,” he speaks out and instantly wants to hit his head on the nearby wall.

“Lieutenant,” he says only and then quirks an eyebrow at him, looking at the patch over his heart. “Or should I say Hangman?”

Bradshaw puts his hand on his hip, cocking it to the side, and Jake bits down on his tongue.

He is wearing the uniform, that’s how Jake’s attention got caught in the first place, the dark blue pants and button up long-sleeved shirt. His broad shoulders are perfectly shaped in the tight fabric, straining to be confined, and the front where the buttons are is so form-fitting Jake could trace his abs with his fingertips.

His ass, finally clearly visible, is nice and round, and he bet he’d fit in Jake’s palm perfectly. The turnouts were sexy but god, he definitely prefers Bradshaw like this — coated in the uniform, buttons fighting on his chest, the SDFD patch on his huge bicep, and B. BRADSHAW in a bright white thread stretched out on his chest.

“Just Jake, for you,” he remarks, sending him a wink.

“Thought it was Jacob,” he says, eyes sparkling innocently, and mentally, Jake swears — he probably knows his middle name, too, just because he saw his driving licence. He needs to make him forget, somehow. “No inspections planned. That’s not my department, anyway.”

“Don’t know about that, you can inspect me any day,” he says and it’s cheesy and not his best shot but Bradshaw is smiling, the apples of his cheeks rounding up as he bites down on his lip.

Sounding amused, he asks, “Has that ever worked for you?”

“I don’t meet that many firefighters — you tell me,” he says as he takes a step closer. He needs to lift his chin to look him in the eyes but it’s so worth it.

The sun from outside, where the planes are standing in neat rows, shines through the window wall, and turns Bradhshaw’s eyes into dark amber, sprinkles of gold shining. He looks at Bradley and he locks their gazes, eyebrows raised lazily as he gives Jake a once over — his eyes go up and down his body and Jake straightens his back, cursing how unflattering the flight suit is.

Bradshaw's gaze is unreadable and Jake feels hot in the face as he clears his throat, every move so smooth, like he's doing all with the purpose of getting Jake more flustered.

It's working, if anything, because Jake's mind is somewhere in the clouds with his jet wash.

“Not much luck then,” Bradshaw tells him, finally, turning to face the elevator, giving his a good view of his side profile, the way his jaw twitches and the curve of his nose not letting Jake look away.

The light is stuck on level three, has been for a while now.

“It probably broke again,” he remarks, just because he doesn’t know how to keep the conversation going.

“Yeah,” Bradshaw sighs, but the soft quirk of his lips is still there. “I know this model.”

Vaguely, Jake remembers him and his crew being called to elevator rescue right after Jake asked him for his number — which, even the memory makes him cringe.

“Thought taking the stairs would be more of your thing,” he remarks.

It's a bit cliche but Bradshaw is a firefighter after all and he's goddamn fit. Jake would gladly follow him on the way up the stairs and enjoy every step and curves that would flash in front of him as those tight navy blue pants would stretch in all the right places.

“I only have clearance to go to level four, I can’t open the stairwell."

Jake bites down on the inside of his cheek, curious who Bradshaw is going to — they don’t often have civilians on base, even rarer ones that are allowed into venturing to level four, where most of the admiralty residents. “You have an officer waiting for you?”

“My dad forgot his lunch,” he says, raising up his right arm — Jake hasn’t noticed, but he’s got a thermal bag in his hand, neatly folded between his long fingers. “I’m bringing it in.”

“A bit out of your way,” he notes — Bradshaw’s station is in the north west of San Diego. “I could escort you up.”

“I think I’ll wait.”

At this point, Jake is sure he’s just playing hard to get. Well, two can play the game — Jake’s never had anything easy in his life so be it.

“Or I could escort you outside,” he offers, voice turning low, thumb pointing behind himself, vaguely towards the rows of jets in the window behind his back. “My jet is right there, ready to be taken for a joyride.”

He doesn't know how he'd actually manage that — he's pretty sure Maverick is laid back enough to not dishonourably discharge him on the spot but he isn't sure he's big enough of Jake's fan to fight his case with Cyclone.

Well, to hell with it.

Bradshaw puts his arm back on his hip and he must be doing it on purpose — his arm looks so huge and his chest is puffed up, like he tries to hover over Jake with all the two inches he has on him. His bicep is so big Jake just wants to drape himself all over it and then maybe get it wrapped all over himself next.

Jake takes a step closer, meeting him headfirst, the dryness of his mouth suddenly so prominent as he can't clear his throat without making a ragged sound.

“Did Nat not tell you?” Bradshaw asks.

His cheeks warm up, feeling as stupid as the moment when Tasha told him Bradshaw’s a commercial pilot in his free time. He tries to not show it — it was a dumb thing but how could he have known? — and instead pretends he doesn’t get what Bradshaw’s getting at. “Tell me what?”

“That I can fly on my own, Lieutenant,” he says, the lazy, smooth voice is back, smudging the vowels on his tongue.

“Not in a fighter jet,” he counters. “I bet you’ve never seen one up close, not to mention sit in one in action.”

The elevator opens.

Bradshaw turns to him, just a little, and shuffles closer on his feet, just a bit, enough that he can feel the warmth of his breath, before he swivels again, gracefully stepping into the elevator compartment as he says, that slow, unbothered voice penetrating Jake's lungs, “You’d be surprised."

Jake makes himself breathe again, blinking the tension out of his body. Tries to play cool, tries to cock his hips out and give him a look from behind his eyelashes, but it all feels so clumsy.

“Hey, the offer is still on. Maybe I’ll even let you pull the stick.”

Bradshaw raises an eyebrow, slowly and pointedly as he licks his lips, and swaps his visitor pass on the key panel. “Which kind?”

Bradley closes the elevator before Jake can step in.

He could catch up with him, take the stairs and meet him on level four, probably, but that is starting to sound stalkerish and obtrusive, even for Jake's asshole methods. Not to mention that he could easily run into Maverick up there or worse — into whichever senior officer that's Bradshaw's father. He doesn't remember seeing Admiral Bradshaw anywhere in the commanding list but he isn't stretching his luck when there's not much of it in the first place.

He goes to the ready room, sits down next to Javy and tries to pretend everything is alright.

Thankfully, Maverick isn’t there yet.

Javy raises his eyebrow, awaiting some explanation.

“So,” Jake says when Javy doesn’t stop staring at him like that. “Bradshaw—”

“Your firefighter?”

“He’s not—” Javy raises his eyebrow higher. “I saw him, like, ten minutes ago.”

“On base?”

“Yeah,” he confirms, only now encoding what has happened. What he’s learned about Bradshaw. “His dad is an officer, apparently.”

“What? How do you know?”

“He was bringing lunch to someone on level four,” he explains.

Javy’s eyes widen and he whistles under his breath, looking like Jake’s situation is making his day. Amused, he remarks what Jake is mentally panicking about, “So at least senior, maybe flag officer.”

“Yeah.”

“Oof,” is all Javy adds. “Good luck.”

"It's not like I'm going to meet him again, right?" he says, but he doesn't sound so sure even to his own ears.

Javy doesn't answer anything because Maverick finally walks in and they both stand up at attention.

Maybe it's fate, after all, that he sees Bradshaw everywhere, even here, but even fate runs out of ideas at some point.

#hangster #tgm

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engagemythrusters · 6 months

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omg please talk more about Naboo when you have time!! I love reading people’s headcanons and I never thought about how so many of them cover their hair it’s so cool!!

OH okay !! Thank you for asking!! But also hold your horses bc this is about to get LONG. And rambly.

So it is my full belief that Naboo queens cover their hair. Like this initially came about because... I believe it was @star-burned who once made a post about hijabi queens. And then I was like yeah that's a whole vibe I like that. But then when I started making my own queen OC (Roona!) I started looking into it and I was like. 100% sold on the hair-covering idea. It's not a hijab, as ears aren't necessarily covered, so I have diverged from the original idea. BUT. Still along the same lines.

Sooo here's all the costumes worn by Queen Amidala (both on Padme and Sabe).

Now, here's the meta analysis:

What has ALWAYS been notable to me (even as someone young) is that like. They're wigs. Clearly they are wigs. She does not have enough hair for some of those. Yes, Padme had some decently long hair! But it was damn well not that thick. Not to mention, if you zoom in on some of the hairstyles (maybe not using these photos, bc they're taken a bit far away), they just... don't look like hair.

If you look at the hair of the retaking-Theed outfit (middle right), you can see that the hair on that is absolutely fake. The sheen of the hair is inconsistent between what wraps the headpiece and what sticks out the back. Not to mention... Where the goddamn hell is that hair even coming from. Literally not attached to her head. And if you look at what's coming out of the back is just... it's so... hard. It's all blocked together. Like maybe it's a shitton of hairproduct. That's possible for the actual actress. But it honest to god just looks like an acryllic wig. The shine and how none of it breaks like normal hair... Yeah no. My bet is Not Real. And if it is, sorry dear Ms Knightley. The hairproduct makes it look fake.

As for the top two left outfits and the center outfit... Well, for the first left and the middle, it has that same issue with those. It has no breakage or frizz. Yes, could be a lot of product! But if you look at any style Padme has in later films, she still has baby hairs and frizz and flyaways... because that's how normal hair acts. That's just how hair is. So yeah I'm not sold on the first one being real hair.

Now the mid-top does have some breakage and frizz near the base AND it is a proven possible hairstyle (that is a Mongolian traditional hairstyle! Like... near exact ripoff of it.) BUT what's in the headpiece is not the only hair. There's also a back part that has... a lot of hair. And that just... doesn't seem consistent with what Natalie Portman has for hair. YES it is likely that it has some sort of hair rat in it. But I'm looking at the pattern of the hair that's up top on the headpiece. I don't think that's real? Maybe I'm wrong but it doesn't make sense the way it comes out. Who knows tho. Maybe that's the real hair and the other is fake.

The bottom two are real hair. At least what's attached to the head is real. I can tell you that much.

But that's the META. ANd also conjecture on the meta.

What's in-canon is:

The Queen's hairstyles, which were said to take several hours to perfect, were headpieces with wigs that matched Padmé's natural hair color. Her real hair was tightly-braided, pinned down, and gelled; the gel held the headpieces in place and prevented them from itching. While the Queen's hairstyles were being created, her handmaiden Rabé would provide counsel. (source)

So. Yeah. They're all wigs.

THIS does line up with Padme's Tatooine hairstyle!

While it's not the style that would be under her wigs, it still holds all the braids.

AND So we know it's not just QUEEN AMIDALA that does this:

Jamillia's in a wig (meta and canon) and Apailana's hair is fully covered.

AND TO TOP IT ALL OFF

THE HANDMAIDENS ARE LIKE 90% OF THE TIME COVERED TOO. That spans across films. There's like one time we see hair--during the takeover of Naboo. That's literally it. The rest of the time, their hair is covered.

And honourable mentions: A lot of Padme's senator hairstyles... Wigs. Literally she popped her fuckin hair off in TCW. That shit was a wig half the time.

TL;DR? The queens are wearing wigs the times "their hair" is shown. Thus. Queens required to hide their hair--either out of social obligation or out of wish to portray themselves with ornate hairstyles to show their social standing. Either way, no "real hair" shown. All hidden.

#sabe #padme amidala #queen jamillia #queen apailana #star wars: the phantom menace #star wars: attack of the clones #star wars: revenge of the sith #star wars #THIS IS POORLY WORDED AND RAMBLED AND NOT ASSEMBLED TO MY USUAL DEGREE OKAY DONT HOLD IT AGAINST ME #I GOT OVERZEALOUS

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lovelaetter · 1 year

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Are you ok with age gaps?? Because I can’t get the thought out of my head of 18-19 year old college student Yuna meeting the eldest sister of one of her friends; the sister would be like in her mid-thirties, maybe almost pushing 40, she’s g!p and she’s got a big dick that some of the other girls tease the friend about (“that’s my sister you freaks, gross!”) and that Yuna can’t help but fantasize about and want to see so badly 😵‍💫 when she does meet her and she’s STUPIDLY hot and mommy as fuck with a clear bulge in her sweats while SOFT she can’t help but furiously touch herself later that night while trying to figure out the best way to seduce her

in this blog we love age gaps!

CW: AGE DIFFERENCE

of course loves to hang out with her friend, but god she will find any reason to be at her house when she finds out you’re coming to stay with them for a week or two.

her friend inviting her to enjoy the pool at her house on a extremely hot day and yuna making it her goal to tease you the best way she can, wearing the skimpiest bikini she finds, making a show of laying in the sun, talking to you and being a little too touchy, all smiley and giggles, asking for your help to do the most stupid things — “oh, can you peel this for me? i just got my nails done and don’t want to mess them up” her nails aren’t difficulting a damn thing, or, “can you apply sunscreen on my back, please?” she could easily just ask her friend. she’s in heaven with all the attention. of course she has had many boys and girls fawning over her before but you’re different, an older woman, experienced… she feels so special.

you know what she’s doing, absolutely, you’re not stupid, but you can’t say no to her. she’s so good at teasing you but at same time so adorable, eyes shining whenever looking at you :( the fact she’s the best friend of your (much) younger sister doesn’t really mean anything.

it’s in the air, you both want it but don’t know how — or when — take the the first step. obsessed with the idea of her waiting for her friend to get distracted and taking her phone to look for your number and sending dozens of photos later at night when she arrives home. her naked reflection, a close up of her tits, a close up of her pussy, maybe a video fingering herself ♡… don’t tell me she wouldn’t be she absolutely would. it happens for days.

next time she sees you she intends to stay the night, little sleepover with your sister and the tension between you two… is it the night something happens? absolutely. coming to the kitchen in the middle of the night only to find her there already, drinking some water, and you snap! who cares if someone can come and find you fucking her on the kitchen counter?

not wasting time because she is so ready, yours fingers sliding easily inside her and her shyly admitting that she was locked inside the bathroom minutes before touching herself to the thought of you — she has a bunch of pics of your tits and cock in her gallery, has to put it for good use. covering her mouth as you enter her because you’re way bigger than she’s used to and the poor thing can’t hold her moans :( literally no thoughts inside her head, barely remembers her own name, only yours — let’s act like like she doesn’t moan a small “mommy” too —. she dreamed about this so often!! a little disappointed with herself by how fast she cums, wanted to enjoy it more, but then you’re asking if it’s okay to cum inside her and she sees stars, nodding and wrapping her legs around you… messiest fuck ever but so good!

the panic on your face when you hear a voice calling her, rushing to suit yourselves just in time to see your sister at the kitchen entrance. lying saying you two lost track of time talking, watching as she walks back with your sister… sending yuna back to bed with cum running down her legs ♡

#asks #itzy smut #yuna smut #cw: age difference

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frostandflamesfanfic · 1 year

Text

Last Christmas (Steve Harrington x Reader)

Last Christmas (Rated T)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Word Count: 3.9k+ (get yer cocoa, everyone!)

Warnings: Brief moderate language, Steve Harrington being an idiot (as usual, but we love him anyway), friends-to-lovers (if that's a warning)

Summary: Co-written with @mischief_and_mercy on AO3 for Day 8 of Stevemas. Takes place at the end of Stranger Things 2 and inspired by the infamous titular song. You and Steve have been friends for years. You've seen him change and go from relationship to relationship, wishing that one day he might feel the same as you do. When Steve tries to hatch a plan with you to get Nancy back, tensions run high. Will your friendship be over?

It was no secret Steve Harrington struggled with luck. It was even clearer that he had lost his heart to a very prominent figure who also went to Hawkins High: Nancy Wheeler. Despite being friend-zoned too many times to count, you still harbored feelings for the hazel-eyed King Steve. You knew it was stupid—you should know better than to fall for someone who already gave his heart to someone else.

Everyone saw the way Steve looked at Nancy. Even now, as you both sat in his bedroom, you knew his only thought was of walking into the Snow Ball to see her. He wanted to try to speak with her, to reconcile the broken relationship between the two of them.

“What would I even-” the boy started as he paced around his room. “I mean, what could I even say to her? She’s…different now, ya know?”

“Yeah,” you said with a nod in agreement, “but so are you.”

Steve groaned, hands reaching up to cover and slide down his face. “Why does this have to be so damn complicated?”

“To quote the great Phil Collins-”

“NO!” He was quick to cut you off. “Don’t you start.”

In all the years he’s known you, Steve should have realized this was a losing battle. “You can’t hurry love,” you crooned in a terribly offkey melody. “No, you just have to wait. Love doesn’t come easy, it’s a game of give and take.”

“You’re such a nerd,” he groaned, head falling backwards in frustration. “Besides, wasn’t that song done by the Supremes like a million years ago?”

“And you have the audacity to call me a nerd.”

Steve scrunched his nose, causing a series of wrinkles to appear across his face. “Blame it on my dad,” he argued. “Used to blast that shit everywhere we went. We’re getting off topic here, though. How can I uncomplicate this?”

It wasn’t that you didn’t want Steve to be happy. In fact, it was quite the opposite; there was nothing you wanted more for him. The two of you had known each other for years and you knew the struggles he had going on at home. More than anything, Steve deserved to find someone who would love him unconditionally.

But…that person wasn’t Nancy. As much as they tried, you can’t force two puzzle pieces together that don’t fit. It only damages the structure of one or both puzzle pieces. And in this situation, the broken puzzle piece was Steve. Nancy had remained intact, perfectly fine to be without Steve. Steve, on the other hand, could barely function without her. As much as you hated it, he had convinced himself that Nancy was the one for him, and as his best friend, you had to do what you could to support him.

“What if you gave her a gift?” you suggested. “Something…nice, that’ll help her remember you. Maybe like a locket?”

Steve paused mid step and tilted his head side to side, as though he was pondering your suggestion.

Last Christmas I gave you my heart

But the very next day you gave it away

“Maybe I should ditch,” he remarked, mostly to himself. “Maybe I’ll just leave Dustin, run back into the car, and come back here.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Steven Joseph Harrington, I swear to God if you have stressed me out for nothing, I am going to suffocate you with your own damn pillow.”

“Stressed you out?!” he exclaimed.

“Yes, it stressed me out! You are absolutely incapable of making a decision and not completely wimping out on that same decision! Grow some balls!”

The dark-haired boy before you wrinkled his nose. “You know,” he started, “we would be having a completely different conversation right now if this was your problem. If you wanted to get back with Frankie Wallace– God knows why you’d want to– you’d be stressing over every detail.”

“Well, good thing for you I don’t want to go out with Frankie Wallace,” you said evenly as you rested your head on your hand. The unspoken words remained resting on your tongue, heavy and dark. I want to go out with you.

“Yeah, see, that’s your problem. You need to get back out there again,” Steve encouraged, entirely oblivious to your distant longing stares. “Show the little shitbag what he’s missing.”

“That’s gross, Steve. Last time you encouraged me to do that, he stuck his tongue down my throat and I had to sucker punch him in his. Would you like to try that again? Wanna relive another trip to the principal?”

You watched as your best friend’s jaw clenched and un-clenched in a silent rhythm. He flexed his fingers into a fist. “He did that to you?”

Your eyebrows furrowed. Why would that matter to him? Was he jealous? As wrong as it was, you almost wished he had some feeling comparable to yours when he looked at Nancy. But you knew it would never happen. Try as hard as you might, you would never truly be Steve’s…person. He would never look at you the way he saw Nancy. To Steve, you would always be his little friend with a face full of freckles and braces, the one who was more interested in homework than the important social gatherings of the school year.

After the Snow Ball came and went, with Steve’s plan hopefully going off without a hitch, life would go back to normal. You’d pass each other by in the halls, smile on occasion when he’d visit your locker.

“Yeah, Steve. That’s what happens when you pick the wrong guy.”

Once bitten and twice shy

I keep my distance, but you still catch my eye

Tell me baby, do you recognize me?

Well, it's been a year, it doesn't surprise me

You knew that Steve remembered what it was like to attract the wrong girl. But… he didn’t know what it was like to look at your best friend, every day, knowing that there would be no one else that could measure up to who you wanted. Despite the absentee parents, Steve had always known how to treat his partners. He would tell you about his dates, how he’d always try to pull out all the stops. You knew his moves, his quirks…those sly tactics he thought were smooth that you had convinced him were borderline sketchy, even if he didn’t mean it to be. If anything, being alone most of his life made him gentle and caring.

Steve told you about his dream once, when he and Nancy first started dating. He wanted this great big Hawkins family that would have all the love he never received growing up. It shattered your heart into a thousand pieces to hear, but it also made you all the more protective of him. Deep down, you knew this wasn’t the future Nancy would want. She was a girl with big ambitions, who wanted to do more than stay in a town as small as Hawkins. You knew that Steve would support her either way, even if it meant sacrificing what he wanted most, but it didn’t seem fair. Your best friend didn’t deserve to have his heart broken; not by Nancy Wheeler or anyone else.

“You never…” Steve cleared his throat. “You never told me that.”

“That’s because you were a little…” Too preoccupied with sucking your girlfriend’s face off. “...busy.”

“You can still tell me things!” he exclaimed. The guilt swirled in his eyes, immediately hitting you right in the chest with your own pang of guilt. You probably should have told him when it happened. It would have saved you long nights of avoiding him to cry in your bedroom listening to Bowie and hating how stupid you were. Maybe it would have helped your pride to have him knock some sense into the creep. Although, you knew he would just be picking another fight he was destined to lose.

“I didn’t want to bother you.” I didn’t want to make you feel bad for me while you were happy with your own girlfriend.

Steve whispered your name quietly as he sat on the bed next to you. “No matter how busy I am with a girlfriend, with my friends, there will always be time for you.” He reached over to tuck a stray hair behind your ear. “You’re my best friend. It’s part of my responsibilities to protect you from douchebags like Wallace. Not to mention I’d be lost without you.”

You shifted uncomfortably on the comforter, fingers smoothing the material as you refused to meet your best friend’s gaze. How could he say that to you? Your heart thudded against your chest like a rubber ball against a brick exterior.

“Then why won’t you notice me?” you blurted out, your face burning as your mind registered what had just slipped out of your mouth. “Why do you always go to Nancy when clearly, the both of you can’t work out?!”

Steve recoiled from his position, his expression mimicking that of someone who had been slapped. Burning rage filled your heart, but not at him—never by him. It was at yourself, for ruining the relationship and the gentle peace the both of you had together. Your feelings had always toed the line between friendship and something more with Steve, but you never truly dared to make the leap and cross it. Teasing remarks, gentle touches that lingered just a little too long…yet you didn’t want to take the ultimate risk of revealing your feelings and losing Steve in the process.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured as you gathered your belongings as quickly as possible with tears building up against your lash line. “I shouldn’t have said that, it was wrong of me and not my place at all.”

A hand encircled your wrist, one that most definitely was not your own. Your gaze flicked from the ground to Steve’s chest, unable to look him in the eyes directly. How could you? You had basically ruined your friendship in one fell swoop. Now you know what a fool you’ve been.

You cleared your throat, still staring at the floor. To hell with it all. You’ve said this much already, what more could happen from you pouring out your heart?

“I’ve liked you for a while, Steve.” you stated quietly, still staring at your sock-covered toes. “I… I think I realized last Christmas. But… When I asked if we were going to spend Christmas together like usual, you preferred to spend it with Nancy. I… I lost my heart that day, Steve. I lost it to you.”

“I-” Steve started as his hand tightened around your wrist. “I didn’t know-”

“How could you, Steve?” you asked bitterly. Considering the rhetorical question, you continued on your outpouring of feelings. “You were too invested with Nancy to see what it was doing to me. You only have eyes for one girl at a time. So when Nancy entered the picture… I was lost from you, Steve.” Your voice broke on your last sentence, “I was lost from you, Steve, and I still am.”

“But you’re right here,” he argued. “I’m right here. Everything’s okay now. I mean, yeah, Hawkins went to shit again, but we’re still alive. We’re still-”

“Just because I am physically here, Steve, doesn’t mean that I don’t feel lost from you! When’s the last time you’ve asked about my day, or about one of my tests, or offered to help me study for one of those tests, or, hell, did you even bother to call me back when I broke up with Frankie?”

“I guess, I guess I, uh,” Steve ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. You could tell he was struggling to search through his memory, holding onto a glimmer of hope he could find a reason. But the truth was, he couldn’t and he never would.

“Forgot,” you huffed in frustration. “You forgot. Again. Because Nancy is the only thing that occupies your brain anymore.”

“That’s not true!!”

“Then what the hell is the truth, then, Steve?! Tell me the damn truth!”

A blank look overtook your best friend’s face as you grew silent after your outburst. You hadn’t meant to lash out at him like you did. It was a therapeutic feeling, though. After watching from the sidelines for so long, having that chance to really tell Steve how you really felt was…freeing. After a moment, you gave up on waiting for an answer. It didn’t really matter what he had to say. You said your piece and now you needed to move on before it was far too late, not only for your friendship – but for yourself.

Heaving a heavy sigh, you bit your lower lip and grabbed your backpack back up from off the floor. Steve barely registered your movements, only coming back to the real world just before you started down the stairs. You heard his voice call out your name as you walked out the front door, but you had to ignore it. This Christmas, you needed to move on. You needed to let go of Steve Harrington, even if it hurt like hell.

= = = = = = = = = = =

You hadn’t spoken to Steve for the rest of that day. When he called later that evening, you let it go to voicemail. At school, you ignored him outside of classes, being quick to spot some random “friend” of yours that you hardly knew. You spent most of the day after helping your younger sister get ready for the snow ball, no matter how much she argued that having her older sibling help was practically a dramatic attempt for social suicide.

Well, at least she wasn’t going to the Snow Ball in what she thought was the epitome of fashion (which it was most definitely not). Resisting the urge to ruffle her hair, you all but shoved her out the door to the car. Why put all of your hard work to waste and let her be late for the event?

The last thing on your mind was if you would cross paths with Steve in the parking lot. Given everything that had gone on since your last conversation, it wasn’t as if he was at the forefront of your thoughts. At this point, your main focus was on making sure your little sister had the best Snow Ball ever, even if it meant you needed to sit and monitor a punch bowl for three hours.

After placing the keys in the ignition, you drove to the biggest event your middle school sister could ever dream to have. As you entered the parking lot of Hawkins Middle School, you could already tell that no expense had been spared with the event planning committee’s strenuous budget. Balloons and streamers littered the walls in a variety of pale winter colors. You were almost glad that you had opted to dress you and your sister in darker tones, as it would help you stand out against the backdrops.

Once parked, your sister couldn’t wait to get out of the car. She made a beeline for the sign-in sheet and was quick to start catching up with her new friend, Max. After you signed yourself in, you couldn’t help but look around for Dustin. You had half expected him to be here by now, but there was no sign of the curly haired genius child.

A crowded room, friends with tired eyes

I'm hiding from you and your soul of ice

Despite your vehement wishes for Steve not to show up, you couldn’t help the sinking feeling in your chest when you didn’t see him walk through the doors. You wanted him not to show up, it’s what you had hoped for all along… Right? But the heavy feeling in your chest and the spiraling thoughts inside of your head said otherwise. You tried to distract yourself with ever-so-important punch monitor duties, dragging the ladle through the liquid to create ripples within the bowl.

About an hour into your self-made prison, you heard the sound of a throat clearing in front of you. Oh. Oh no. As you glanced up, you locked eyes with the boy you had spent the last few days trying to avoid. Steve wasn’t dressed up, not really. He had on his favorite red sweater and a pair of Levi’s. Even with the curious look of concern etched into his features, he still looked incredibly Steve-like.

My God, I thought you were someone to rely on

Me? I guess I was a shoulder to cry on

Now that feeling in your chest blossomed into something incredibly unwanted that would make you forgive Steve in the span of a fraction of a second. This time, it was familiar. It was the same feeling that made you hold onto the thought of him finally dating you for oh so long.

“Hey,” he stuttered. “Can I, uh, have some punch, please?”

“Pretty sure it’s just for the kids,” you couldn’t help the sharpness to your tone.

“I could make sure it’s not spiked?” he offered weakly. The puppy eyes he gave you were enough to make you want to put your hands over your face, if not just to resist the temptation of forgiving him oh-so-quickly. You knew it would hurt even more if you let him back into your heart. So why were you longing to pour some punch in a glass in a peace-making gesture?

Deep down, you knew why.

It was because it was Steve, the boy you had known since the two of you could crawl (albeit not very well on his part). This was the guy who spent every minute of summer break in your backyard, talking for hours about the things he wanted to do when he could finally get away from his home – to finally be free. This was Steve, your best friend, who knew your favorite ice cream flavor and your favorite movies. It wouldn’t matter how many times he broke your heart, because he would always be there, in the back of your mind and your most important memories.

“That’s, uh,” you cleared your throat, “that’s why people like me are on the payroll, I’m afraid. This punch has already passed inspection. Although, I’m sure Nance might need some help at table seven.”

“I don’t want to help Nancy,” Steve explained as a bite of frustration crept into his tone. “I want to focus on you.”

Your words rang back to you in what you had spit at him during your fight. Nancy is the only thing that occupies your brain anymore. You hated that he still held onto that. Despite the truth to those words you had said, regret slithered around your heart and crushed it in a vice-like grip. Was there truly any more hope towards a relationship between you and Steve?

“Then why do I find that so hard to believe?”

“Because I’ve messed up,” Steve said honestly. “I’ve messed up, but I really, really want to be able to make it up to you. Please, let me make this up to you.”

A sigh escaped your lips and your gaze traveled back down to the punch bowl before you. It would be an internal battle, this decision. But really, what else did you have to lose? He had already shattered your heart before. What’s one more time? “And how do you expect to do that, Harrington?”

His hand dipped into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small box, which was horribly wrapped. The edges of your lips twitched in an attempt to silence your laughter at how poor his wrapping job truly was.

“What’s this?” you asked.

“A present… for you. I just… I thought you should have it, y’know, in case you won’t let me do anything for Christmas. As awful as it sounds, I figured you’d actually take the present in public rather than in private… I know you hate me. I’ve been an awful friend.”

Hate. For some reason, that word just bothered you. Did you really hate Steve? After everything the two of you had been through as kids, would this really be the end of your friendship?

Swallowing hard, you reached your hand out wordlessly for the gift. “For the record,” you mused as you picked at the paper, “I don’t hate you. I’m just…I guess I don’t know how to feel. I said some things and you…well, you didn’t. I don’t know where that leaves us now.”

“I… I don’t really know where that leaves us either,” Steve said quietly. “But what I do know is I don’t want to lose you.”

Without another word, you started to rip at the wrapping paper. After removing its disguise, you discovered it was a small silver box. You frowned up at Steve in confusion as you lifted the lid off of the top. What you saw surprised you even more. Placed on a bed of crushed purple velvet sat a silver letter “S”.

“You decided to get me something with your initial?” you asked, unamused.

“It’s not- It’s not to mark you as mine or stupid shit like that!” Steve spit out. “I uh… I just uh…” He somehow managed to pull himself together enough to say, “I want to be yours. I want to gift you flowers and make you breakfast and point at random stars in the night sky and act like I know the story behind constellations I still can’t see. And most of all… I want to remind you that you are always going to take priority. I don’t want anyone else.”

“But- but what about Nancy?” you asked, wide eyes locked onto his own soft gaze.

“It’s not about Nancy anymore,” he replied. “To be honest with you, I don’t think it ever really was. See, when Nance…when she left me, I think I just– well, I think I felt pretty stupid. Like maybe, maybe there was something wrong with me. I was a jerk these last few years. No, no, I was more than a jerk. I was a real dick. And I guess…” He hesitated before he continued. “I guess I was afraid if I even tried to find someone else, I’d just screw it up like I normally do.”

You frowned. “You don’t screw things up, Steve.”

“No, I did,” he argued. “I really, really did.”

“You didn’t-” you started again.

“If I didn’t screw things up, then why didn’t I have the guts to tell you I loved you six years ago?”

“Because I didn’t have the guts to tell you that I loved you either.”

The two of you stood in silence for several minutes, eyes flickering around the room to find something– anything– to talk about and break the spell. Something had changed between the two of you now and there was definitely no going back. While part of you wanted to scream of happiness from Steve’s confession, another part of you was scared. What if you tried and it messed everything up even more? What if you lost Steve entirely?

As if he sensed your unease, Steve took a few steps around the side of the table. His hand found your own as he laced his fingers with yours. The other hand went to your cheek, cradling your face gently. His eyes searched yours as he leaned closer, his cologne sweeping through your senses and preventing smells other than him from making their way to you. Lips grazed yours as both your eyes shuttered closed, bodies leaning into one another.

Finally, finally you were kissing Steve Harrington…and he was kissing you back.

Maybe this Christmas wouldn’t be so bad after all.

------------ Authors' Note:

frostandflames- Well that's a wrap on day 8 of my Stevemas event. I just want to say thank you to mischief_and_mercy for helping me out and being willing to collaborate with me on today’s fic. This story was actually their idea, so make sure to give them some support and check out their stuff over on AO3! They write for a variety of characters, including the gang from Stranger Things and MCU.

If you liked this story and want to see more collabs like this on either of our profiles, make sure to comment, tag your friends, and reblog. Likes are appreciated, but it's the other types on interactions that help spread the word about our work and motivate our brain cells to keep working together.

AND if you want updates on the rest of Stevemas, maybe consider giving my blog a cheeky follow. I promise I won't spam your dash outside of sharing the works of other amazing writers and creators on this hellsite.

Until next time, my little sparks! <3

mischief_and_mercy: Hey guys! I hope y'all enjoy the fic! Give all the love to El for coming up with the idea and helping us along (no matter what she says about me…). She's put so much hard work into this, so give her all the love you can spare <3 please leave a comment or a reblog (or both ;D)! Happy Holidays lovelies!

Taglist: @bakerstreethound, @theelmgrove

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unabashednightmarepizza · 2 years

Text

𝐻𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑌𝑜𝑢 | Morpheus( Dream) x Goddess!Reader

Series Masterlist

"So, Ethel... How life has been as a single mother? I believe it was hard, I know how it feels like~"

Gulping down her drink anxiously, Ethel watched you caress the many artifacts in her room. She was trying to understand what you were and what your main purpose was, by how you almost seemed like you were floating around and how your eyes reflected everything in her room. Corinthian was definetly right.

This wasn't real you.

She wasn't someone with an obsession over myths, but she knew this body.

The benevolent and merciful Queen of 9 Realms, the one that fought with giants and stormed the Halls of Valhalla... The ever strong Queen Y/N of Asgard.

"It has been hard, yes. Though I don't know how you know I have a son or how you understand my pain..."

"I surely wouldn't forget the woman who stole from Rodrick and Morpheus, darling. You should've seen it, The old man was so angry that it was funny to watch him loose himself and Morpheus not giving a single fuck at what he was demanding of him!"

Laughing quietly, you brought your hands together behind your back and walked around slowly. Your eyes would occasionally catch Corinthians but you would dismiss and roll your eyes at him and how he was biting his lips. Men and their digusting lust...

"And how do I know the pain? Normal, I've watched her experience every kind of pain because of that goddamn King of Dreams. I know how being left alone feels like, have my personal trauma." Noncholantly drinking your wine, you looked at Corinthian, fully dismissing the mortal in the room. "Are you ready for your first mission, darling?"

"Ready as I can ever be, my lady~"

"Good. I want you to find two people for me, they're very important so don't you dare fuck this up."

"Of course. But who are they?" Feeling slightly irritated at how noncholant you were, since most people would die to be near him, but you turned your sharp eyes at his glass covered one and talked to him with a deep and raspy voice that shook the place.

"Don't you dare compare me to those disgusting, vile creatures! I'm no ordinary god, and you will behave as such! Don't forget this, I can and would kill you with a single thought. Anyways, the people I want you to find are Rose Walker and Hob Gadling... Bring them to me and have your reward, nightmare~"

When he disappeared suddenly, afraid for his life, Ethel cursed at her luck for being left alone with a revengeful and sick-minded god. And the feeling only intensified when you turned and looked at her with pale skin and red, glowing veins over your face. Stumbling away and holding on a table, you laughed joyfully at her misery.

"Sorry for this... I have so much pent up anger after years of being locked away. Don't worry, I will not stay here anymore. I would rather go and spend time at streets than being within the same room as a human... But I need to ask..."

Getting closer to her and trapping her between the table and your body, you felt her shiver and leaned closer to her. "Where is the ruby, Ethel? Only have one chance to answer and don't try to pull a funny shit on me~"

She stopped her hand mid-air when you caught her hand that was holding the protection amulet and stared at it with an unwavering look. "Humans are surely stupid, the amulet only works for those who are malicious beings... Demons, nightmares... I'm a God, you stupid mortal!"

Shaking and kneeling before you, Ethel started to cry silently and brought her hands together in front of her. Not that she knew if it would make a change. "Please, my liege! I'm so sorry, please have mercy!"

Scoffing at the miserable act in front of you, you swatted her hands away and kneeled before her, taking her face between your hands." Ethel, I'm not someone as patient as my sister neither am I merciful... Tell me where it is, and I would never be have to see your face."

"I swear I don't know!"

"Ethel, Ethel... You're lying, and I don't like liars~"

Getting to the door, as if you didn't appear out of nowhere, leaving the woman on the floor, you turned to the blond woman with a teasing yet curious look while still holding onto the door, hanging on it and swinging back playfully. "When you see John again, please pass my thanks to him and I hope he enjoys his gift~"

"My lord, are you sure about this? It has been a long time since you entered this waters."

"Do you think I've forgotten?"

Rolling her eyes at Dream's answer, for the millionth of time and not that he would see it, Lucienne shuffled closer to the stubborn man who was already fixed on his journey to get his tools back. And it seemed something stirred inside of him when he had to sacrifice Gregory and how his eyes glossed over while absorbing the creature. He had started to show more emotions, I wonder if that's about Her Majesty...

"No, but-"

"I cannot ask the Fates of something without giving them something in return. There is nothing left to give in the Dreaming... I have to gather my offerings from the dreams of others." Dream said, as if it was the most normal thing he had ever said and it was wrong of Lucienne to even suggest something else.

"I understand, sir but... There is one thing that stayed intact even after all the decaying, as if it was protected and maybe-"

"Even if someone offers me the Moon and the Sun, I would rather die than giving what had witnessed our love many times... The only thing I have left of my love..."

Raising her hands in surrender when Dream sharply turned and gave her deadly eyes, she retreated and watched him pour the sands of Gregory and get in the water to get what he need to call to the Fates.

It was true that the only thing that stood tall and mighty, with a shine that definetly wasn't from the Dreaming, was the altar and the fountain that you had gifted him when he jokingly told you that it would be good to hear some water sound near his study room. The altar was the symbol of your marriage and the fountain was the epitome of love and care for him. The carvings and many runes on it, your own language were done by your graceful hands and he remembered the nights where he used to lay on your chest and you would play with his hair, rub his naked back tenderly while singing a song you always heard from your mother when you were still young.

Every single one of those acts were what made him "go soft" for you, especially after a passionate love making and the protectiveness you both would feel.

He could vividly remember how your eyes always shone with a new brightness each day, how everywhere bloomed with life whenever you were happy. The warmth your body offered to him, and the angel-like face you had...

He missed you, no... He craved you. Inside that goddamn glass for a century, he had the time to go back to every little moment you had and they were what kept him together. Even he was naked, with nothing inside to provide something for him, being treated as if he was a lesser being than those who captured him.

He only hoped that wherever you were, he would be your hook to hang on until he found you.

With a new determination, he gathered all those he needed and set up his plan to call for the Fates... The only problem was, they would give him the chance of only asking three questions and he didn't know what to do. With his tools and you gone, he would have to make a choice and if they would be able to give him a decent answer about you, then so be it.

" I, Lord Morpheus, Dream of the Endless... summon the Fates. The Three who is One, the One who is Three... The Hecate."

Three thunderclaps were heard and when everything settled down, three women in purples were seen and Dream greeted them with respect even though they were taunting him for his losses and his state, looking down at him for his obvious hunger to learn about what he holds dear to him.

"Yes, I do want something. I need your help."

"Help? Oh, listen to him... Like you helped us against Circe?"

"Circe is old business, my sister-self... And he did bring nice stuff.."

After showing the serpent at them and seeing his other offerings, they agreed to give him the chance of asking three questions and he used two of them to ask about his tools, almost slipping two more which would have angered the Fates even more had they not warned him. Learning a little bit about their whereabouts, The Fates were curious as to why he wasn't asking the third question, choosing to stay silent instead.

Knowing his ego and straight-forwardness, one of them voiced what has been in each of their minds.

"What are you waiting for? You still have one more question, ask it!"

But Morpheus was in turmoil, with his logic and heart. His mind screamed at him to ask about his last tool, to get them back as soon as possible and come to save you from wherever you were, resulting in you being in danger for a longer time but... His heart was pounding at his chest so harshly, threatening him to break out and save his wife first, for she was the reason of his standing.

He didn't realize how hard he was clenching his fist, his wedding ring hurting the inside of his palm. And he wouldn't even realize it, neither would he realize how thight his jaw was, if one of them hadn't looked at him with a look that could be considered shocked yet soft.

" He's in a delicate state, my sister-self... A man in love and despair, having troubles with what he is supposed to do and what he wants to do..."

Dead eyeing them and turning his head side ways, he looked into the darkness that was creeping on him but the voices of the Fates beought him back to his senses. He would, na way in Hell, let them taunt him for his loss.

" I want to ask about my-"

"Even though we're shocked yet pleased that you chose to ask about her, we give you one more question to answer... Not for you but for Her Majesty's sake..."

"She helped us and fought hard, if that's the way to return her kindness... Then, we're ready to make an exception for you."

Waving their hands in the air, a purple smoke engulfed Morpheus and the place where they were standing. Opening his closed eyes, he watched the three women smiling down at him, urging him to ask his question.

He would never say it out loud, but he was grateful that you had fought for them even when he told you he didn't want you in danger.

"What happened to my wife in my absence?"

Bowing their head slightly, they started to speak in a row but what they told him only confused him more.

" After you were gone, she thought she did something wrong for the longest time ever. Yet, she remained in your kingdom to maintain the order you two had made..."

"But when the days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, her health started to get worse. With the miracle happening in her, and sharing her powers with 10 realms suddenly, she had become bedridden..."

"This is all we can give you but, if you wish to learn everything... You know where you need to go..."

And just like that, they disappeared suddenly, leaving Dream with his thoughts. Your health had gone worse? And you thought he... left you fend for yourself? Without saying anything? How could you think that, when he adored you more than anything? When he created everything for the memory of you... Did you have so little faith in him?

And what was the "miracle in her" supposed to mean?

A flash of anger coursed through his veins, a shiver running down his spine. He couldn't believe that the faithful wife he had thinking so little of him. A growl ripped inside of him but the sound only made him flinch at how mean and harsh he was being to you without even listening to you. Yes, it seemed like a far away dream that the egoistic Endless of Dream would feel bad at how selfish he was being to his wife, even feeling like he failed her with the harsh words that crossed his mind and wanting to listen to her but he didn't lie when he said that he would do anything to make her happy and safe.

And now, he was one step closer to get the meaning of his existence, his muse back into his arms.

And he knew just where to look.

" My lord, may I ask where you are going?"

"I have learnt about my tools but what I need desperately is not them, rather my wife... I am going to Asgard to learn what happened to her."

"Did the Fates tell you about her? Is she fine?" said Lucienne with a happy glint in her eyes at the possibility that you could be found and brought here again. Seeing her happy face and hearing the hidden joy under her voice, Morpheus smiled at the librarian and nodded his head, feeling giddy all so suddenly and looking down at his pale hand to see the ring that has been the only thing that couldn't be taken away from him throughout his imprisonment.

"That, I don't know yet... They only told me that the Watcher of All Realms is the one who knows what happened..."

"Heimdall... Oh dear... Then, my lord, may I ssk one more favour? Take a raven with you."

Now that she looked at his face more closely, the eyebags beneath his eyes were more prominent, his bones visible and his hair more messy than ever and his shoulders were slightly hunched over as if the whole weight of the world was on him.

And in a way, it was. He spent years in a glass, away from people he cared about and was tortured mentally. And when he came back, he saw everything he worked hard for in ruins, his queen nowhere to be seen. He had seen his best friend being shot in front of him, worry etched itself into his heart and squeezed his soul hard at the mere memory of everything he once had and would never have.

"No more raven..." he muttered weakly, remembering the horrific scene of Jessamy being killed.

"If not for you, for me... A raven could travel between realms, keep me informed-" Lucienne begged with vigor, having no intention of letting this one go like that. Morpheus already felt like Lucienne has been controlling him ever since he came back, as if he was weak, as if he was needed to be lead here and there. Not knowing that it was all because she cared.

"I don't need a Minder...Jessamy was the last one..."

Sighing out, and feeling like ripping her nonexistent hair out, she tried once more. "My Lord... The loss of Jessamy was heavy on everyone but you know what drove Her Majesty away from life, apart from loosing you... If you don't want it, at least do it for her sake..."

Not giving any answer that showed he listened, he turned his back to the water and let a portal appear, one that showed the golden halls of his beautiful lover's kingdom.

"If Heimdall knows what happened, yet didn't do anything... I don't think you will have to worry about anything, Lucienne..."

Raising her brows surprised at what Dream had said, implying on killing Heimdall, your most trusted friend and right-hand man, she couldn't help but take quick steps to him. "My lord, forgive me if I'm misunderstanding but... Are you implying that you would kill Her Majesty's best friend? The one who has been with-"

"I suggest you to not to finish that sentence, Lucienne... For I don't want to say anything to hurt you."

If the situation wasn't so serious, Lucienne could've wept at the thoughtful act of care from him but this... This couldn't be left alone like that. "Your Majesty, all I'm saying that Heimdall and her grew up together. You, of all people, knew better that there is no one else for her. You would be hurting her even more, rather than helping, my lord..."

Unfortunately, Morpheus had always been the one to get easily jealous, despite his failed attempts at love and anyone who he cared for eventually slipping away from him, the people they cared about more than anything would always face the same hostility, and Heimdall wouldn't be any exception.

The fact that he was always with you, which was enough to get a reaction out of Dream, is the only thing that could've made you two drift away, you always reassuring him that there was nothing going on with such tender yet powerful words that he would be left with doing nothing except believing in them with his whole heart.

Taking a deep breath, and reminding himself that he shouldn't be harsh to her, he stepped onto the water that now was shining, without looking back.

Hoping to find answers, but never expecting what would be waiting for him.

After all Lucienne forgot to tell him about the most important part, the part where he was a father now.

After learning you talked with her son, Ethel went to the prison, as John called it, to see that he was fine and well. The fact that she couldn't do anything to hurt you or stop you made her vivid, grunting in anger and jealousy. Whether she accepted or not, she was greedy for power, just like many humans. Always wanting more, always being more... But none of them ever happening...

If only she had one ounce of power you had...

Unknown to her, you were already inside, talking to the poor man while he was sitting on the bed, as far as he could get away from you, fearing you... Being able to see you and hear you was what made him go insane, humans, in normal circumstances, wouldn't be able to see gods or anything supernatural but given the fact that his father was a Magus- somehow a decent one at least, even though he made a deadly mistake by capturing dream- these visions had passed onto him. Resulting in misery and more despair...

Normally you would have laughed hard and killed whoever dared to say that you would pity a human but seeing the hunched man cower away like a baby animal made something stir inside you. He reminded you of yourself, when Odin would be too much for you and your siblings, after all Thor was the golden child, Hela was the doomed one and you were the one that was expected to do great things... While he was the scapegoat of the family.

It wasn't that no one cared about him, he was the youngest of the triplets of the royal family, with Hela and you being the older ones, and even if Hela didn't give a single shit about him, you were always there. Always patching him up, always talking to him, acknowledging that he was there, alive and someone with thoughts and emotions...

That was exactly why he possessed you, to finish off Dream and free you from all the pain, insecurities and despair he had brought . Your body was weak physically but it wasn't the only part that was weak.

Your heart was way weaker, and your soul having no more branch to hold on, which made your capture easy but... Huh, I guess I could make use of her body...

"Hello, John~ It's been a long time since I saw you... I believe almost 20 years now? How have you been?"

Startling at the honey-like voice of a woman, one that he knew that wasn't of his mothers, he turned sharply to see you sitting on a golden chair, looking mighty and powerful as ever. He was afraid he had done something wrong, even though he was always here and had no chance of getting away and doing something else except reading, and his eyes widened at that, fearing that this would be the time he finally died.

But you just... smiled sweetly at him. A sight for sore eyes, indeed.

" What are you... doing here?"

"Came to check on you and... Help you, my dear. You don't deserve to be sitting here idly all day, caged like an animal..."

You knew exactly which buttons to press to manipulate someone into believing you, broken humans being the easiest ones, so with slow tentative steps, you stood in front of him and took his face between yours, softly caressing the ridges and wrinkles on his face while he closed his eyes thightly at the feeling.

Soft rays of sun bathing his face with everuthing it had to offer, healing the broken pieces of his soul with a tenderness he had never seen.

Right at this moment, he knew he would do anything to please the goddess that blessed him with new feelings.

And that was exactly what happened.

" Your mother is coming here, John. The woman who trapped you here, the one who stole from you and me, living in the wealth I offered to you... Don't listen to what she says, for me..."

Before you could have continued, the woman burst in hurriedly, while trying to hide her true intentions with a sickening smile.

And they call me the bad guy, when there is a old geezer like her...

"Hello, darling... How are you, how is therapy going?"

Seeing you roll your eyes at her and stray away from him, he got up like a moth following the flame. He didn't want you to go away, he wanted you to stay here with him, bask in the light you gave around yourself!

But to see your expecting eyes, expecting him to do something- what you wanted him to do- he knew you'd stay there if he did what he had to do.

The raw want to have something, the lounging... They could make someone turn a blind eye to the most obvious things...

For example your body, not being truly yours.

"Is that your way of asking if I have forgiven you?"

"I'm only trying to talk to-"

"That never ends well for us, no?"

Sighing dejectedly, Ethel stepped closer to her son while you were watching their interaction with interest, leaning back on the chair you were sitting and crossing your legs on each other with a smug and capricous smile. Humans always tought that they were alone, but just because their eyes didn't see doesn't mean that there is nothing.

She didn't have time for John's self-pitying sessions, it was only time that you would come here and she needed to talk to him as soon as possible.

" what we need to talk about is... the ruby."

Turning his eyes at her, she didn't realize that he was looking behind her, eyes following every motion of someone.

"Don't tell her... Do you think she cares about you? Why did she only come when SHE needed something from you?"

" Do you think she cares? She may be your mother, but the only thing she cares is power... If she cared, she wouldn't have thrown you here..."

"You could be so much more than a crazy man, what are you gonna do? Choose to live as a pest, or become something more with my help?"

With every sentence, you circled John, leaning over his ear to whisper everything to mislead him, much like Lucifer did to Adam and Eve.

What they said was true...

Deceiving humanity is the easiest and most enjoyable thing...

And the changing in John's eyes and the stiffness of his posture were proof that you were so close to conquer the world.

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#sandman imagines #sandman x reader #the sandman #morpheus imagines #morpheus x reader #morpheus #asgardian!reader #queen reader

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