#maybe... some time... if I can find a place for them to dry safely

[elektroyu]

Hey look an art related thing!

I recently figured out that I CAN hang artwork IF they're small and/ or lightweight. Turns out small and medium sized canvases tend to be light enough to put them on small nails, which are the only things that can penetrate those walls (many thanks to my neighbor for telling me this!), so that's what I'm gonna do :D

These are technically not finished yet. I can't decide if I want to varnish the two fluid paintings or not, because I'm really scared to mess them up 🙈 And they do have a very nice texture even unvarnished. Maybe it doesn't matter if I keep them unvarnished, since I'm probably keeping them for myself anyway (originally I wanted to sell them because they did turn out better than most of my other fluid paintings, but I think I like them too much together on my own wall haha). The title of the middle one is "Sea Dragon Monochrome" and the one on the right is "Cosmic Mamba".

The painting part of the freesia piece is definitely unfinished. This one is part of a triptych that I painted with my sisters a few years back for our mother's bday; each of us painted a freesia flower on a canvas like this and all of them have the same background color. I think we took ref pictures of the flowers and then painted them from the pics. They look really great together! So, our mother used to display all 3 on a dresser in her bedroom where she used to stay most often, but since she passed away last year and my siblings sorted out her stuff I got reminded that I never actually finished this painting (I think it was due to time constraints at the time and then... life happened). I now took it home in hopes I can finish it some time, and until I can get to it it's hanging out with the others in my entry. :) Maybe we can get prints of all of them once mine is done, so each of us can display the complete set, that would be cool!

[niennanir]

Listen to your elders

So last week I posted abut the importance of downloading your fic. And then three days later AO3 went down for 24 hours. No one was more weirded out by this than I was. But while y’all were acting like the library at Alexandria was on fire I was reading my download fic and editing chapter eight of Buck, Rogers, and the 21st Century. And also thinking about what I could do to be helpful when the crisis was actually over.

So first off, I’m going to repeat that if you’re going to bookmark a fic, you really need to also download the fic and back it up in a safe place. I just do it automatically now and it’s a good habit to get into.

But let’s talk about some other scenarios. Last October I lost power for over a week after hurricane Ian. Apart from not having internet or A/C I did find plenty to do, I collect books so I had plenty to read, but maybe, unlike me, your favorite comfort reads aren’t sitting on a bookshelf. So let’s do something about that, shall we?

In olden times many long years ago around 1995 we printed off a lot of fic. It was mostly SOP to print a fic you planned to reread and stick it in a three ring binder. And that’s totally valid today too, but you can also make a very nice paperback with a minimum amount of skill and materials.

Let’s start with the download; Go to Ao3 and select your fic, we’ll be working with one of mine. This method works best with one shots, long fic tends to need a more complicated approach. Get yourself an HTML download

Open up the HTML download and select all then copy paste into any word processor. Set the page to landscape and two columns, then change the font to something you find easy to read, this is your book, no judgement. This is all you have to do for layout but I like to play a little bit. I move all the meta, summary, notes to the end and pick out a fun font for the title: 

No time like the present to do a quick proofread. Congratulations, you’ve just created your first typeset. On to the fun part.

Now you’re going to need some materials:  8.5x11in paper ruler one sheet of 12x12 medium card stock (60-80lb) scissors pencil pen or fine tip marker sheet of wax paper white glue two binder clips 2 heavy books or 1 brick butter knife

You’ll also need a printer, if you’re in the US there is almost a 100% chance your local library has a printer you can use if you don’t have your own. None of these materials are expensive and you can literally use cheap copy paper and Elmers glue.

Print your text block, one page per side. Fold the first page in half so that the blank side is inside and the printed side out:

use the butter knife to crease the edge. Repeat on all the sheets. When you’ve finished, stack them up with the raw edge on the left and the folded edge on the right. I used standard copy paper, because you’re only printing on one side there’s no bleed to worry about. Take the text block and line everything up. Use the binder clips to hold the raw edge in place.

Wrap the text block in the wax paper so that the raw edge and binder clips are facing out. I’m going to use my home built book press but you don’t need one, a brick or a couple of books or anything else heavy will work fine.

Once the text block is anchored down, take off he binder clips and get out the glue.

You can use a brush but you don’t need one, smear some glue on that raw edge.

Go make a margarita, watch The Mandalorian, call your mother. Don’t come back for at least an hour

In an hour smear some more glue on there and shift your brick forward so that the whole book is covered. This keeps the paper from warping. While glue part 2 is drying we’ll do the cover. Get out your 12x12 cardstock

Mark the cardstock off at 8.5 inches and cut it. Measure in 5.5 inches from the left and put in a score line with the butter knife (the back edge not the sharp edge)

Carefully fold the score line, this is your front cover. You have some options for the cover title, you can use a cutting machine like a cricut if you have one, you can print out a title on the computer and use carbon paper to transfer the text to the cardstock. I was in a mood so I just freehanded that beoch. Pencil first then in pen.

Take your text block out from under your brick. Line it up against the score mark and mark the second score on the other side of the spine

Fold the score and glue the textblock into the cover at the spine. Once the glue dries up mark the back cover with the pencil and then trim the back cover to fit with your scissors.

Voila:

I’m going to put this baby on the shelf next to the Silmarillion.

The whole process, not counting drying time, took less than an hour.

If you want to make a book of a longer fic, I recommend Renegade Publishing, they have a ton of resources for fan-binders. 

[shares-a-vest]

Eddie reaches for Steve's fruity-scented shampoo - the stuff he swears he hasn't been using each and every time he stays over. He pops the cap and then the lights go out.

He screams bloody murder and drops the shampoo bottle. He kicks it and presses his palms against the nearest surfaces. One on the tiled wall, the other on the glass as he does everything to stop himself from moving his feet because, if he trips on that fucking fruity shampoo that makes Steve's hair oh-so-silky, he'll go slipping and sliding straight through the glass and into the goddamn toilet.

And he cannot die like that, buck-naked as the day he was born.

Though, if he absolutely had to die in the nude, he'd want it to be while he's railing someone six ways from Sunday...

Preferably the hunk who is bursting in through the bathroom door and waving a flashlight right in his eyes.

Steve opens the shower and reaches in to shut off the water. Eddie palms around and grips his boyfriend's wrist, impossibly warm despite now being wet.

"Are you... uh..." Steve drops the light enough from him to stop spluttering about. Eddie blinks hard, regaining enough focus to find a sly smile tugging at the corner of Steve's lips as he attempts to be serious, "Um, are you okay?"

Alright, maybe falling head-first into the toilet would have been a little less embarrassing than this: Steve staring back at him and snickering. He cups his junk and grumbles.

"Towel?" he spits, holding out one hand.

"Sorry," Steve says as he hands the brown (seriously, why do the Harrington's enjoy brown so much) towel over, "It's just you looked like you were in the middle of some naked jumping-jacks."

"Stevie, I was terrified," he retorts, drying off his arms and hands first so he can get a better grip on anything so he can safely get out of the damn shower before it becomes a fogged-up glass tomb.

But Steve places the flashlight tight under one arm and spots him, hovering one hand and placing the other on his dripping wet hip.

"I know," he soothes, now completely serious, "I was scared too."

Eddie doesn't care that he is mostly wet and that his hair is completely soaked, he goes right into Steve's strong arms, feeling his navy-blue sweater quickly dampen between them. Steve maneuvers around to stop their bodies from completely blocking their light source and hugs him tight.

"So stupid," Eddie can't help but mutter, "How am I more scared of the fucking dark than I was when I was six? Besides, how do you even lose power out here in Richie Richville?"

"Well, considering this house is surrounded by trees," Steve shrugs, "We lose power quite easily in bad weather," he pulls back enough to give a dangerously-teasing smirk considering Eddie's state of undress, "Thought you'd enjoy some candles and what-not, anyway. Doesn't Bilbo Baggins scurry around his cottage with a candlestick?"

Now it's Eddie's turn to move away as he hurriedly wraps the towel around himself - to protect his modesty. Yeah... that.

"Excuse me?" he exclaims, "He lives in a Hobbit hole, for one. And I'll have you know his home is well-lit."

"Come on!" Steve scoffs, rolling his eyes and taking his hand.

He leads them back into his bedroom, which at least has some moonlight peaking in from the windows. And yeah, now Eddie can really hear the source of the power outage. The wind outside and the trees that shroud Loch Nora sound like a goddamn tornado.

"Though I think Rivendell surely must have had some sort of electricity," he wonders aloud as he attempts to focus on something else.

"We can debate the infrastructure of Middle Earth later," Steve chuckles and promptly shoves a pair of sweatpants into his hands.

Eddie steps forward, smiling bashfully.

"You mean it?" he coos, biting the 't'.

Steve's eyes flick to his lips as he bites his own, "I can think of a few things we could do that don't involve the power being on."

Eddie opens his mouth, readying himself for a lame line about their palpable electricity that will probably make Steve laugh when the damn radio crackles.

If a physical object could be a boner-killer, it's the damn radio Steve currently has attached to his hip.

"Steeeve is the power out at your house, overrr!" Dustin screeches the moment Steve fishes it from his back pocket.

"Yes, over," Steve answers. He holds a finger up, silently asking Eddie to wait as they make no attempt to move an inch from each other's personal space, "I'mfine-okaygoodbye!"

He clicks the radio off completely and tosses it on his dresser, paying no mind to the fact it sends his Little League trophy toppling onto the carpet.

[fraugwinska]

You know what I'd like to read? Goofy ass Alastor. Him and reader just bonding through being partners in crime. The crime in question? Silly pranks on other hotel guests. They can be painfully cringe and only funny to them. Because you know. Boredom. Make them friends, make them sweethearts, make it somehow end in smut ( ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) )- idc. You do you, Gwinska!

I just want some strawberry pimp shenanigans!

My inspiration for that exquisite prompt?

This: https://www.instagram.com/p/C5SIGvCg91j/?igsh=cmF5cjc5Znlpdnhu

Hello there, patient frauchen! Boy, you had me sweating here! But alas, I did it and I think it's safe to say - I got all your wishes covered ;> This one's for my adult sinners only! Sorry Minors, please DNI!

❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️

Joke's On You

Everyone at the Hazbin Hotel knew that Alastor loved silly, dumb pranks.

The radio demon would set Charlie in a panic, rushing in her office to tell her that there was water running down the freshly renovated staircase - only for her and a similar panicking Vaggie to find bottles of water in shoes placed on the steps, groaning at the delighted chuckle from the shadows at the top of them. Morning coffees and stomachs were ruined by Alastor one day, switching the contents of the salt and the sugar jars and in having half of the residents hurl into the sink at once. You were one of those unfortunate souls, the only one laughing maniacally at the whole ordeal as you spat out salty saliva.

Because what they didn't know was that you were just as bad. Maybe even worse.

A few weeks had gone by since you checked in, and you watched Alastor with impish glee as he planned out and executed his tricks on the crew, including you. In contrast to the exhausted, annoyed reactions from the other residents, you always laughed, chuckled or giggled at the outcome - leaving him always in between confused and delighted.

Until one day. Emboldened and settled in enough, you decided the day has come for you to join in on the fun. Prepared with a dry noodle in your mouth, you asked Vaggie after breakfast to help you crack your back, watching Alastor from the corner of your eye, who sat at the table still reading his newspaper. As he looked up after turning a page and Vaggie obliged, hooking her arms into yours and bending forward, you bit down. The sound of the cracking noodle and your fake scream made Vaggie and the rest of the residents jump in shock and Alastor nearly double over, howling with laughter. You couldn't hold it together, showing her the cracked noodle and cackled madly while Vaggie, comforted by a nervous but relieved looking Charlie, just shook her head exasperated and groaned. "Great, another one who thinks this shit is funny." You apologized, still chuckling, as your eyes found Alastor's, and his wide smile and mischievous glint in his eyes told you that this was the beginning of a beautiful partnership.

It wasn't long until the both of you became fast friends, partners in crime.

After the whole noodle debacle, the two of you spent more and more time together, coming up with stupid ideas on what to do to the poor crew. Your first idea was a rather simple one: Replace the Alcohol in Husks bar with various other liquids. You and Alastor had a grand time switching vodka with water, red wine with beet juice and whiskey with apple cider vinegar. Alastor had his fun observing the results, especially Husks reaction. It wasn't pretty, to say the least. The cat had a breakdown when he smelled the vinegar in his usual drink, shouting curses at the deer who joined in your hysterical giggling. You patted the coughing cat on his back and handed him a new bottle of cheap booze as compensation.

Niffty was next, her sweet tooth was just too exploitable. While you prepared the very special 'surprise' cake, a balloon, hidden under a mass of frosting, high and pretty and covered in sprinkles, Alastor coaxed her into cutting a piece. "Come on now, Niffty, a small bite wouldn't hurt! You have to try the cake, my dear. We worked so hard on it, I assure you that you will like it!". She was hesitant at first, but as he promised her another one later, she couldn't resist the temptation and cut herself a piece, not noticing the grin on Al's face. The high shriek at the pop of the balloon was almost as hilarious as her face, covered in cream and colorful specks of reds, yellows and blues. The both of you couldn't stop laughing for minutes, and after Niffty calmed down enough, she took the joke in good fun and happily munched on the cupcake you had given her while Alastor and you cleaned her up, exchanging bemused looks.

After finding an exact copy of the remote control of the hotels' TV set on one of your outings, Alastor had the most wonderful idea to mess with the newest guest, Sir Pentious, who had claimed the TV in the lobby every evening to watch his favorite soap opera together with his egg companions. You both hid, the spare remote ready, waiting patiently until the snake had his show on and made himself comfortable on the sofa. You began to change the channels, and every time the Egg Bois hopped over to the TV to manually return to their show, you let them, waiting until everyone was once again settled before you switched the channel again. The villainous overlord hissed in rising anger, the sound of him slamming the original remote on the floor and yelling about the 'incompetence of these damn VoxTech devices' almost as satisfying as his face when Alastor took the remote from your hand, winking, and changed it right back, snickering as he did.

You continued to play your little tricks on everyone, although you made sure you always made it up to the recipients of your shenanigans. You felt a weird sense of pride and satisfaction seeing that Alastor didn't seem to mind having a partner in crime for a change. You didn't know much about him before, but the others told you that Alastor wasn't exactly known for making friends and having close relationships, and it warmed your heart knowing that he opened up a little bit and enjoyed the time he spent with you.

You also enjoyed the time you spent with him, not only because of the mischief you two brought upon the crew, but also just because you enjoyed his presence and company. He was witty, clever and had a wonderful, contagious laugh. And his smile. When he smiled at you, you would feel warm and giddy and you felt like you were the luckiest person in hell to be able to witness the joyful look on his face, to see his ears wiggle the peculiar way they did when your pranks played out exactly as he planned them to.

***

You turned the page of your book, still giggling. Alastor smiled, his legs suavely crossed as he leaned back in the comfy chair across from you, his own book forgotten and abandoned on his lap.

"I still can't believe you made me prank the literal king of hell.", you said, a hand covering your mouth in a useless attempt to stifle your laugh.

Alastor grinned. "And I can't believe you managed to hold yourself together, darling - yet, you did, splendidly might I add. His highness didn't suspect a thing."

Indeed, you best prank yet was a great success. After endless convincing you gave in to Alastor's idea of switching Lucifer's favorite treat of the day, his beloved caramel apples, out with onions. He had stood watch as you worked in the kitchen all through the night, meticulously covering every square inch of the white, smelly bulbs with a thick layer of homemade, glossy caramel so to not leave even an inkling of the mischief underneath. You didn't want to risk being found out, after all. The result was a tray full of gorgeous, golden, sticky caramelized onions that Lucifer didn't hesitate a single second to take a big bite out of when you - admittedly very nervously – offered them to him, his content hum at the taste quickly changing to one of surprise and revulsion as he gagged and coughed out pieces of the deceptive treat.

"He was really sweet about the whole ordeal, too. I wonder if my 'Apology Apple Pie' was the reason he was so quick to forgive us." You closed the book and put it on the table next to you, shifting and pulling the fuzzy blanket higher over your legs. The library was your and Alastors favorite hangout, usually being empty and abandoned, and it was also the place where the two of you would spend hours and hours together, reading, talking, scheming.

"He forgave you, darling. He still hates me down to his bones.", Alastor corrected you with a sly smirk. "But no doubt about the exquisite quality of that pie, dearest! I had a slice myself, it was delicious! A fine work, as expected from my best gal."

You chuckled, cheeks heating up at the praise. "So, what now? I think we got them all good by now, haven't we?"

Alastor's eyes were still on you as he pondered for a moment. "There's still our amorous arachnid to be played a fool, he has been quite elusive to our trickery."

"Angel is a hard nut to crack", you smiled to yourself, "There's not much that can rattle him. We would have to think about something major, something that really shocks him and truly makes him question everything he thinks is true and real in his life."

"Now there's a challenge." Alastor put his chin on his knuckles as he leaned onto the armrest of his seat. He closed his eyes, the little tell tale static from his chest permeating the air around him, indicating he was thinking intently. You couldn't help but smile as you studied his sharp features. A strange warm flutter tickled your stomach. "That lanky sinner has quite the filthy mind. It would have to be quite the filthy endeavor..."

"Ha, wouldn't that be something he would not see coming from Mr. Celibate - his words not mine!", you snorted, remembering all the times ANgel made fun of Alastor's obvious disinterest in anything sexual or 'filthy'.

"Indeed." He opened one of his eyes, looking over to you while he hummed quietly. "I'm thinking, dearest. What would shock and confuse our dear fellow the most, I ask, than the thought of you and I ... dallying? No doubt his world would crumble."

You furrowed your brow. "Dallying?" You thought you didn't hear him right, utterly lost at his growing grin.

***

You were fidgeting with the loose thread of your sweater as you waited in the supply closet for Alastor to return. It was a decent sized space, stacked with spare sheets, cleaning supplies and a lot of various things that were used or needed throughout the hotel. It was the perfect location for your newest prank, away from any prying or judgmental eyes - as long as no one was wandering through the hallway, except of course, for the intended victim: Angel.

"Dearest, we got the first act running along smoothly, and now, it's time for act two!". With a hushed click the door fell shut, and your heart gave a wild thump of excitement. You shifted slightly as you heard him slip next to you in the dim darkness, turning up the act and forcing a smile that was hopefully bright enough to distract him from the redness of your cheeks and the quick beat of your heart.

The last days were filled with what Alastor had called 'prep work'. His plan: Getting Angel to think you and Alastor would do 'the deed', an attempt to shatter his world view and really get under his skin. So, the both of you played it up by the daily, and whenever you were in the vicinity of the spider demon, you had been underhandedly seductive, upped on flirty comments, subtle touches and some of the worst, most suggestive innuendos you had ever made and had to hold a cringing chuckle every time you saw Alastor's comically pained expression when his back was turned to a more and more confused looking Angel.

Today would be the final part of the plan. Hidden in the supply closet, you and Alastor would wait for Angel to pass the room on his way back from the hotel's gym, as he always did on fridays, unaccompanied and ready to hear your and the radio demons carefully conducted script - something so utterly lewd that it would probably even make his boss Valentino blush. The key, in Alastor's words, was to deliver your fake sexual activities just loud enough so that he would walk past and listen and - well, you guessed you were supposed to shock him to the core.

"My shadows told me he's about to exit the gym. So, are you ready, sweetheart?", Alastor spoke with a wicked, glowing grin as you eyed the door, listening for the soft shuffle and clunking footsteps. "Showtime. Now..." His voice was low, almost sultry in its timber and proximity. You could barely react, and even though you felt nervous, you closed your eyes and tried to calm yourself enough to remember what you had to say.

The footsteps were getting louder, and you took a deep breath before shooting Alastor a glance, sly smile in place as you nodded. Go time.

"Alastor...", you sighed, almost cringing at the sound of your voice, too breathy for your own liking, and not at all sexy. This better would work... "Not here, we can't..."

"You just have to be quiet, pet...", Alastor retorted, and your face instantly burned red. It didn't sound like... that when the both of you put it into writing, not at all. Your chest clenched and heat rushed through your body, but you had to focus, had to see this through...

You struggled to hold yourself together, remembering your next line as you heard the steps outside slowing down.

"You're doing great, darling, keep it up...", he whispered, his smile tight and eyes narrow. His voice rose, making Angel on the other side of the door freeze in his steps. "Then I'll better have to keep that pretty mouth occupied."

It took all your willpower to suppress the shiver that wanted to run down your spine, instead you returned his grin with your own weak one. Keep it up echoed in your head, and you decided you were in for a penny, in for a pound: You moaned loud and sinfully while you kept your gaze locked with his before letting out a high-pitched squeak of fake-surprise, biting your lip.

You could hear Angel shuffle and listened as his ear must've neared the thin door. Your heart beat in your throat, excited to have caught both of their interests - Angel's, as well as Alastor's alike. It was as if something in the other demon snapped and he seemed to be, dare you say it, into your little act. There was a glazed over look in the crimson of his eyes, staring at you in an unreadable expression.

"My, my, aren't we eager...", Alastor mumbled, almost more to himself as his claws found their way to your hips.

"I... I'm...", you trailed off. Shit, the script, he was going off the script. What the fuck was next again?

He tilted his head slightly, pulling you closer, so close his nose bumped into yours and his lips were near enough that they nearly grazed your heated cheeks. "Al.. what are you doing?", you whispered frantically, realizing with sudden excitement the hard, long object pressing into you was NOT an ill-placed broomstick. It was like a jolt, electricity running from where his body was flush against yours, flooding your lower body and rendering you into a flustered mess. He scraped one of his claws along your throat, breathing a little to heavy to it being just an act. His hips snapped in a sudden, desperate movement, making you and him both groan at the intensity of his erection rubbing against your heated core.

Wait. His erection?

You panicked - This wasn't how this was supposed to go, but yet your traitorous body felt like it was burning hot, the sound of Alastor's strained sighs music to your ears. You wondered if he could feel the slight wetness from your core against his pants, feeling almost faint but nonetheless unreasonably aroused at the thought. His chuckle vibrated low and dark in his throat, eyes flashing as you panted helplessly against him. Your own legs began to tremble with the tension and the intensity of his movements, which now had you caged between his solid body and the wall behind you.

"I'm going to ruin you, darling...", he uttered, the pet name thick like honey leaving his lips, and you choked a breath as you moaned and felt his smile press against your jaw, traveling to your mouth, "I'm going to pick you apart, my darling dearest, and you will beg for me not to stop, never to stop until I make you forget to say anything but my name."

He was out of it. You were out of it. You forgot about the script, about the whole idea of the prank. You couldn't even care about the mumbled words that the listening Angel must've said from the other side of the door, because you were completely captured, overwhelmed by the turn of events, overwhelmed by the tall, dark demon pressed up against you who was moving his hands hungrily over your body, devouring you whole with his piercing eyes and cock throbbing against your groin, eliciting desperate whimpers with the slow movements of his hips against yours.

In a matter of seconds, Alastor had reached down to free his cock from his clothed restraints. You let out a broken whimper as he shoved up your skirt, running the smooth surface of his claw against your clothed entrance, pushing the wetness that was dripping through the thin barrier away, not a single care in the world about the sticky dampness his fingers were covered in. His mouth left yours to let his tongue lick down your neck and shoulders, teeth catching your pulse and sucking, bruising your tender skin.

“Only I am going to get to feel you, make you keen, scream and moan under my fingers and lips and cock, you hear me?”

You couldn't reply as he pushed into you, hard and in one, relentless strike. Your heart was beating impossibly fast, so fast you thought it was about to break, and the sharp pleasure mixed with pain was mind numbing and made the stars behind your shut eyes explode.

"My perfect. little. frivolous. pet."

Every word was a thrust, deeper and deeper until you couldn't take it anymore and wailed out his name in a wanton cry, so sudden and urgent that even Alastor looked shocked and ecstatic in surprise. The tension rose and exploded, and you clenched and pulsed and shivered around his shaft, feeling every inch inside of you and trying so hard to remember how to breathe. He growled into your shoulder and leaned his forehead against your neck, pulling you onto his length in sharp, hard jerks that send sparks down your body. The warmth of his cock was unreal and incredible as he stretched you again and again, a pleased hum escaping his lips and it going straight to your head.

"A-Alastor... fuck, I'm so... so close..."

His grip tightened, a vicious thrust, hitting you so deep that you threw your head back, chanting his name in desperate mewls. Every fiber of your being was tingling, an indescribable pressure building up from deep inside you, erasing your mind.

He made true to his word.

You truly forgot anything else, the only thing on your mind, his name, spilled from your lips in sync with his accelerating thrusts.

***

"I'm telling yo', they're not fucking."

Angel pulled the cat harder, almost running back to the corridor with the cursed supply closet.

"Husk, I'm a fuckin' porn actor. I know how a good shag sounds like. They're makin' the beast with two backs, and holy shit are they goin' at it."

"The beast with two back's?" Husk rolled his eyes, and groaned in exasperation as Angel jumped excitedly and shuffled the other nearer towards the closet, listening intensely.

"Don't yo' get it? It's their schtick, their sick lil' past-time-pleasure. They were bein' too quiet the last few days. And yo' falling for their dumb joke, hook, line and sinker."

Angel hesitated, eyes shifting between his grumpy looking lover and the closed door, from which he could still hear desperate moans and dull thumps. He had been so sure, but now he was uncertain. No not uncertain. He was sure.

Sure that Husk was right. Alastor and you were screwing with him, majorly so. You were playing some stupid prank on him, like you did with all the others, and now he fell for it, too! The last one standing, the only one you hadn't gotten to.

"Those sleazy, scheming bastards!"

Another loud thump made Angel turn on his heels, suddenly delighted with mischief. The last thing he heard was your voice, crying out Alastor's name in an utterly outrageous moan. He reached out in smug victory, grabbing the doorknob and twisting it with steady hands

“You prankster-bitches can cut the fuckin' act, I didn't fall for...”

A screeching, ear-ripping howl burst from the opened door. Angel shrieked in fear as black tentacles sprouted out of the frame, grabbing him and a terrified Husk, trowing them out of the corridor in a wide, long and forceful swoop. The two demons crashed against the sofas of the foyer, making them fall and tumble over. Husk groaned, fighting his way out of the mass of pillows he was buried under, while Angel was panting on the backrest of one toppled three seater, one of his hands on his heaving, fluffy chest while the other three were buried in the upholstery.

“Huh. I stand corrected.” Husk said, shaking his head at the still furiously squirming tentacles retreating into the darkness of the corridor.

“F-fucking told y-'ya!”, Angel stuttered, frozen in place. “Do me a fava', yeah? Fix me a drink so strong it makes me forget what Al's dick looks like.”

[myhappylittlesideblog]

See You When You Get Back

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Shane's a big jerk in this

Summary: Checking in with those going on a supply run creates some drama within the crew. (Season 1 ish)

A/N: My first Daryl piece! Needed some soft Daryl in my life lol. I haven't finished the show yet, currently in the middle of S.6 and it's been a long time since I watched season 1&2, so sorry for any inaccuracies.

Runs weren’t your thing. Not right now. Maybe in a few months you’d be able to stomach it- going out amidst walkers and even more twisted survivors to find food. And toothpaste. God, you needed toothpaste. But even with the protectors of the group on your side, watching your back, you knew you wouldn’t make it back to camp. Not right now. Maybe someday. 

Everybody was clear on that. The “not right now.” So those going out on the supply run would check in with you, ask if you needed anything special and then leave you be to do their laundry or clean the little dishware you had all collected.

They collected. The ones who could collect things- those going on the runs. You just cleaned. For now. 

“Hey.” It sounded more like a grunt than a word. 

Daryl pulled you from your thoughts. Like a hand dipping into the waves to yank you up into the clear air to breathe. 

“Need anythin'?” He asked once you looked at him. 

You smiled. A lips pressed together - thanks for thinking of me - smile. 

“The usual. Diamonds, meth, whatever you can find.”

He snorted, rolling his eyes. 

“And toothpaste if you can find it. But I let Andrea know that.”

He gave a curt nod. “Kay.” 

“See you when you get back,” you said to him. 

A laughing hiss came from behind you. “Damn, girl, tell 'im how you really feel.”

Shane stood behind you. Snarky. Smirking. Shaking his head. 

Though Rick was the one who found you on his way out of the hospital, it was Shane who let you join the group. At least, that’s how he saw it. You were grateful to him, he protected you, provided for you like he did the others. When you had no place to stay and no tent of your own, he let you share his. It was a generous gesture that was starting to come back to bite you each time Shane acted like he had a say in everything you did. Even more than the others in the group, that is. 

“What?” you said. 

His fingers dug into the belt loops in his jeans as he leaned to one hip. “Everybody else gets a pat on the shoulder or a hug. 'Be safe, keep safe,’” he said, imitating a whiny voice that wasn't quite yours. He shrugged. “Guess she couldn’t care less ‘bout you, Dixon.”

You heard the distinct click and jangle of Daryl putting his crossbow over his shoulder, ready to move out. Your jaw clenched at the thought of him leaving with Shane’s words in his head. 

“Why would you even say somethin' like that?” You shot at Shane. “I would never-“

“Ya don’ haf’ta explain yerself,” Daryl mumbled to you. 

“What was that?” Shane called. 

“I said she doesn’ haf’ta explain herself to you,” Daryl said, taking a step toward you, but angling himself toward Shane. Ready. 

“I think I know her better than you do, Dixon,” Shane said. “We share a goddamn tent-“

“You-“

“If you think,” you interrupted both of them, “that I’d say such a thing about any one of us, then you don’t know me at all. But Daryl’s right. I don’t have to explain anything to you.”

Shane’s eyes went narrow. He crossed the open space between you, the span of two tents, in just a few long strides. You felt Daryl stiffen at your side as Shane stuck his face near yours. 

“You be careful who you align yourself with, (Y/N). If I were you-“

“Yer not.” Daryl said. 

Shane didn’t take his eyes off you. “If I were you, I’d choose better than a redneck with a few arrows.”

Even with his harsh words, his gaze softened toward you. Then he turned away and made his way back to his tent. 

Once he disappeared, you sighed, hoping the tension in your chest would dissipate with the air, but it didn’t. 

“Dick,” Daryl mumbled. 

A dry chuckle left you as you turned to him. His cheeks were pink with anger but his face was calm now. 

“Daryl, when I said- I just meant that-“

“I know what ya mean when ya say it.” His arm snaked around your neck, pulling you into him. Fast, hard, and unexpected. “I’ll see ya when I get back.”

He spoke into your hair. You felt his lips and breath move against your skin. And then he let go, gone as fast as he appeared, and you watched him saunter toward the rest of the group going on the run, his crossbow fit to his back. 

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

A/N: A part two may come! I can't just leave you in a tent with Shane after all that, can I?

[nerdofspades]

Bruce looked at the pop-up on the Batcomputer's screen.

"Explain," he growled, glancing down at Tim.

"Not much to explain," Tim answered, pulling up lines of code. "It showed up ten seconds ago."

"I'm starting a full diagnostic," Barbara said, voice filtering through the speakers. "So far, I'm not seeing anything."

"And yet..." Time trailed off glancing at the window again. It had a video queued up to play and the words "IMPORTANT: PLEASE WATCH. DO NOT DELETE" in large text at the top.

"There's a new folder labeled 'a gift for Batman,'" Tim said. "Not something any of us made."

"Clearly."

"I'm still not finding any viruses, corrupted files, or spyware," Oracle said. "The new folder was programmed to stay in a hidden partition for a few days after it was placed. Then, obviously, the pop-up to catch our attention."

"Folder also has a text file named 'security notes,'" Tim said. "Maybe our new hacker is friendly?"

"It's starting to look like it," Oracle agreed. "The video is clean. It should be safe to watch."

Bruce sighed. "Then let's see what they've got for us."

-

The video opened with a dark room. The background hidden in shadows, while the foreground was well lit, letting them clearly see the tired teen in the center of the frame as he took a heavy swig from his mug before putting it down.

"Pulling up facial recognition."

He ran a hand through his messy black hair and then down his face, pinching his nose and hiding the bags under his blues eyes for a moment before he dropped his hand and finally looked at the camera.

"I really don't want to do this," he said, "but you need it." He glanced longingly off screen in the direction of the mug he'd put down.

"First of all, I think I should apologize for hacking you. Or asking my friend to, technically. I just. You need to know about this and I didn't know of another way to get it to you that would be secure.

"I did at least make him promise to make a record of how he got in so you can patch that.

"That out of the way... to business? I'm Danny Fenton, for the last year or so I have also been the hero Phantom in Amity Park. My parents are Jack and Maddie Fenton. They are ectobiologists and ghost hunters. While extremely biased and not actually that good at catching ghosts, their tech is easily the best in the business."

"That's a positive match."

"Running a search on Phantom."

"I- fucking shit." Danny put his head in his hands again, running them back through his hair before leaning back, almost collapsing into the chair.

"This kid has... gotten into some shit."

"Everyone knows you're the League's strategist, Batman. And. I'm strong enough. I can handle my problems, that's not what I'm worried about.

"It's been about a year and I've already been mind controlled once." Danny laughed. A dry, broken, almost desperate laugh. "And that was just some lowlife that wanted to rob jewelry stores. I'm still not worried about. It's not why I'm sending you this. The magic relic he used is broken and gone now."

"Well that explains one of his problems."

"The others?"

"An attempted kidnapping and fairly standard property damage. I want to see some footage of those fights before passing judgement."

"Even more standard given he doesn't seem to have a mentor. Batman, he was fourteen."

"No. I. I've seen a version of the future. One where I go mad. Where I snap. And the Justice League can't stop me.

"I don't know if I- he kills everyone. I don't know who, if anyone, makes it out. But it's not anyone that could really do much. I... I saw ten years after he- I snapped. Earth was little more than rubble and ash. Only one city was left holding out and it was about to fall- was falling when I got there.

"I've managed to change the time line. What broke him didn't happen here. But. I can't guarantee nothing ever could.

"So. Yeah. Next best thing is making sure you're prepared. All my powers. All my weaknesses. Everything I know of that could possibly hurt me. Schematics and blue prints for anything you could need to fight me, track me, keep me out, keep me contained. All nice and giftwrapped for your convenience.

"Uh... that's everything. Why is it always so awkward to end a video? Hopefully we never see each other? I guess? Pretty sure us actually meeting is gonna be a bad sign.

"You know what. I'm gonna turn this thing off now before I say something stupid."

-

"Batman, who's 'Phantom'?" Superman asked, glancing up from the Watchtower computer he was working at. "Aren't we supposed to vote on new members?"

Batman grunted. "He's not a member, just someone who understands the need for contingencies."

"You know what, I'm not gonna even ask."

"Probably for the best."

[astupidweeb69]

You know x-virus don’t get enough love…. Do you have any head cannons regular or nsfw (maybe both)??

I've been thinking about this guy a lot lately for some reason. Also I've never written for Cody before so hopefully this came out okay.

I was going to work on Toby's but.... I have more inspiration for Cody at the moment. He absolutely doesn't get enough love!

X-Virus Headcannons

SFW

Isn't related to Toby at all. In fact doesn't really look like him either. Sure, he's got the brown hair, but he looks waaay more dorky than Toby does. While Toby has kind of a boy-next-door-from-hell look to him, Cody is more slender and works out less. He looks like your typical STEM student (sickly complexion, poor nutrition, etc.). His whole schtick requires him to stay indoors most of the time, in a make-shift lab.

Has a refrigerated van, which he paid to be converted to safely transport whatever science experiments he's got going on in a temperature-controlled environment.

He tries to stay in one place. He's less of a drifter than most of the other creeps but sometimes... the things he does requires him to uproot his life and start over in another town. (No Cody you can't just infect your landlord with a mutated form of tuberculosis when they raise your rent! There will be consequences!)

Has kind of a nasally voice. I feel like he always has a bit of a cold too.

Ironically has a shitty immune system, and probably drinks those Airborne Immune Support drink mixes like it's his job. Also a germaphobe, wearing medical gloves all the time, and his hands are dry and cracked from overusing sanitizer.

LOVES Re-animator. He's rewatched that movie more times than he can count. But he has a love for science fiction movies in general, with horror elements to them. Like Alien.

Also loves zombie apocalypse movies, but that's an obvious one. Specifically 28 Days Later and World War Z.

Sometimes he's like... should I try to make a zombie virus? nah.... unless...?

I also think he was raised by a single father, who worked for a large pharmaceutical company.

Antisocial. I know Toby and him are compared a lot and people give them similar 'hyperactive' personalities, but I don't see that for Cody at all.

Cody's more focused, and is less inclined to interact with others. He doesn't really get lonely?

I'd say he'd get along okay with someone like EJ (both like science, ya know?).

Toby and him hang out a bit - they'll stay in and watch movies together. Or Cody will tag along with him to a bar and watch as Toby fails to pick up anybody. Cody wouldn't say it to his face, but it makes him feel better about his own social skills to see Toby strike out like that.

NSFW (Under the cut!)

I don't know how he'd find himself in this situation - but if he DID have a partner.... the sex would be kind of bland at first?

He doesn't know what he wants and frankly is too much of a germaphobe to get up close and personal with someone he doesn't know well.

You'd have to spend months getting to know him for him to feel comfortable to engage in anything sexual.

I think at the start of the relationship, he'd want to experiment with voyeurism.

He'd be across the room watching you touch yourself, giving you directions while he slowly strokes his cock, loving the feeling of ordering you around.

But as things escalate, of course, he'd give in to his urges. However, the voyeurism would become how he likes to foreplay.

Out of all the creeps (most of whom I view as being dominant) he's actually pretty tame.

He whimpers a lot, and it sounds almost pathetic when he moans. He's been holding out for so long for the right person, and when he finally gets to fuck he's absolutely drunk off of you.

That said, his sex drive is about average.

One of his roleplay fantasies is him being the experienced scientist, and you being his lovely little assistant.

Probably started after the first time you helped him in his lab.

He just kept thinking of you in a tiny little lab coat, bent over his desk - papers and test tubes falling to the ground while his hips piston into you.

[drurrito]

Home

A/N: You're going to have to pry retired!avengers reader x Natasha au from my cold, dead hands. Anyway, I wanted to see if I could quickly churn out a little something before needing to focus my attention on this stupid MSJ memo.

From a drabble list: #34 - "The boxes are all labeled incorrectly."

Parings: Natasha x Reader

Warnings: time...and it's a little angsty ig but there's a happy ending.

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

You slice through the tape with ease and toss the box cutter to the side.

"Huh, so that's where I packed my boxing gear," you lift your gloves out of the box and set them aside. Moving has been anything but a breeze. Natasha finally pried your last remaining stubborn fingers that had a death grip on your life as an Avenger. Your retirement party was too-perfect. Even Fury was there to send you off. You hated it. Natasha knew from the jump you wanted to die an Avenger, not some washed-up hero that spent retirement trying to find anything to fill the bottomless void left from no longer being needed by the world anymore.

But you love Natasha much, much more than you hate not being an Avenger.

She tried to make it up to you, even picking a house that has a home theater and game room for your poker nights with Tony and the boys. Someplace by the beach while being close enough to the S.H.I.E.L.D. training facility so you can sleep in as long as possible before having to train recruits.

Your new life scares you much more than any bullet, bomb, or power-hungry warlord ever could.

You hear the front door open and keys drop onto the new marble counter that Natasha spent weeks curating. The familiar clicking of heels draws nearer. You feel your wife's nails drag across your back before her fingers dig into the knots between your shoulders.

"There you are," Natasha's voice is so gentle, it has been since your retirement party. She always knew what she wanted with you, and you never gave her reason to doubt you would meet her halfway. Retirement was the last step she needed you to take into this new chapter of your lives. Most people would have rather opted to watch paint dry, but she would have waited forever for you if you needed it.

"How's the unpacking going?" Natasha rests her head on top of yours, letting her arms drape around your neck. You instinctively lean back into her and take a few breaths. Among the most chaotic scenes, Natasha has always been your safe place to land.

"We're making some progress," you trail off, both of your eyes scanning the room that's littered in torn, sliced, and otherwise unopened boxes. You feel Natasha heave a loud sigh against your back. Her arms come up to your shoulders to give you a sympathetic squeeze.

"Wait, why are my dishes in your underwear box?"

You chew on your bottom lip for a moment to buy yourself some time, "because...the boxes are labelled incorrectly."

"And who was in charge of labelling the boxes?"

"I was," you try not to sound so deflated, Natasha's laugh echoes through the mostly empty house.

"Should've hired the recruits to do our dirty work," she smirks and pulls out her phone, "I'll get us take out."

You watch her rattle off your favorite order as she walks down a barren hallway. Maybe retirement won't be so bad after all.

[randofics]

Hey, sorry to bother you. Is there any chance you could do some more writing on the fic about being able to reach where the bots can't? Maybe them seeking out more and more chances to get help with it so they can feel them again (once again sorry to bother im not used to doing asks lol)

My first ask that I've actually finished! It took a few days, but I got it done. Hope you enjoy this anon!

Being able to reach where the bots can't Pt.2

After the men on base found out you could squeeze into Optimus's engine space and reach where they couldn't, they would call on you for assistance quite often.

Once after a battle, they were giving Optimus a thorough lookover for any serious damage when someone spotted leaking enerjon pooling underneath him. There was enough for everyone to get a bit worried. One guy spotted you walking into the hangar and yelled for you. The tone of his voice was enough for your happy face to twist with worry.

You sprinted over and bent down to look where they were pointing. Heart tightening at the sight, without hesitation, you slid underneath him to look. Finding a dripping trail of the blue fluid, you sat up on your knees and leaned against the inside of his wheel. "I need some electrical tape!" A hand tapped your side, and you grabbed the roll immediately, pulling out a long strip and tearing it off with your teeth.

Reaching up, you felt for the torn cables and hoses. Finding a matching pair, you quickly pressed the open ends together and wrapped them tightly to seal them. You did that for the other ones till you didn't see any more bleeding. Your heart racing in your chest, you leaned back against the inside of his wheel again and asked for a clean cloth. You wiped your hands clean and gently cleaned any surface of his engine that had drying enerjon.

His shocks creaked as the tension in his frame was released. The cables still hurt, but with your gentle touch, that was quickly forgotten.

-------

Crosshairs didn't like the feeling of things stuck in his plating, but if it meant possibly getting you to touch him in order to remove it, then he could tolerate it. Now he didn't do it on purpose it really was accidental. Nevertheless, he called you over for some assistance in removing the offending plant matter.

Once again, you leaned over into his engine space and felt around for anything out of place. Feeling the soft texture of a leaf, you touched your way down to the branch it was attached to and gave it a tug. You managed to pull it free, but the end was broken off somewhere inside the mechanics of his engine.

He was too low to the ground for you to slip underneath, so you called another person nearby to get you a set of carjacks. A minute or two later, they ran up with two heavy jacks in hand. Laying on the concrete, you felt underneath his bumper for parts of his frame you could use to lift him. Sliding the jacks into position, you cranked them both a bit at a time till his front end was up high enough for you to safely slip underneath.

Flashlight in hand, you scanned the underside of his engine for the green of leaves. Spotting one poking out, you slowly pulled it till the rest of the branch came free. "Is that all of it?"

"Yeah, that feels like all of it." With that, you slid out from underneath him tossing the branch to the side and starting to release the jacks. They slowly racked down till he was on his wheels, and you pulled them away.

He transformed and tested his movements a bit. With a grumbled thank you from him, you went on with your previous work.

-------

Bumblebee had a plan in motion. He'd purposefully gotten dirty so you would help clean him. He waited outside the hangar for you to arrive and honked his horn to grab your attention.

When you saw him rolling towards you, absolutely caked in mud, you had to do a double take. "What in the world did you get into bee?" You chuckle, shaking your head at his antics.

"Can you.. wash.. me?"

"You have a wash station inside bee. Why do you want me to wash you?"

A voice clearly from an old movie answered you. "It's gotten old darling"

"So you just want to change things up a bit?"

A happy whirring answered you. You sighed. "Well, I suppose I have the time. Just park by the wash station so the hose can reach you. I'll grab some stuff."

"So, do you want the water cold or hot?"

🎶"Shawty fire burnin' fire burnin'."🎶

You let out a snort at his music reference. "Ok, hot it is." You sprayed him down, trying to remove as much dried mud as possible before using the sponges. Surprisingly, you got almost everything off with the hose alone. Dunking a sponge into your bucket of warm soapy water, you splashed soap over his hood, following behind with circular motions. Scrubbing anything too stubborn with a wet cloth.

He was definitely enjoying this. Your hands all over him and the warm water running over his plating. It was over too soon, though, and you dumped the bucket in the nearby drain after giving him a thorough spray down to remove any leftover suds.

"Sorry bee, you'll have to get your undercarriage cleaned in the wash station. It's too hard for me to wash under there."

"That's alright."

He watched you walk away through a set of double doors nearby and then drove into the wash station, letting it blast his undercarriage with cool water.

You chuckled to yourself as you walked down the hallway. You knew exactly why he'd gotten so dirty, and you thought it was cute how he tried to play it off.

-------

Rachet had gone out with Bumblebee and Raf after Optimus suggested he take a break from the deskwork to stretch his "legs". He'd grumbled about it but relented. When he returned, there was some mud splattered on his plates that he didn't pay any mind to. When Arcee commented on it, he brushed her off, saying that he'd get cleaned up later.

You arrived at base after bee picked you up from work. And as soon as you saw the grumpy medic standing at his desk with mud on his white and rusty red paint, you rolled your eyes. Figures he'd be too engrossed in work to even shower.

Motherly instincts taking over you called his name with no response. A little louder the second time. "Rachet!" He didn't look at you, but this time, he answered. "What? I'm busy!"

"You need to wash off."

"Can't right now, there's too much to do."

"Rachet, I will spray you if I have to."

"Sorry, still too busy."

You let out an annoyed growl. Then, an idea popped into your head. You ran off to find some tools.

Slightly out of breath, you placed the buckets on the floor behind rachet and dragged an extra long hose to the same spot after hooking it to a nearby spicket. Turning on the water, you ran to the end with the spray nozzle and, without warning, sprayed him in the back. He jumped, letting out a yelp at the cold water. Whipping around, he glared down at you.

"Hey, I tried to warn you. Now transform so I can get all that dry mud off you." He rolled his optics, letting out a grumble of annoyance. Relenting, he transformed, and you smiled in satisfaction.

"Just be quick about it." You got to work spraying him down and sudsing him up. You had to sit on your knees on his tire to reach the center of his hood. Your chest pressing into him as you reached for the awkward spot. Internally, he was freaking out about it.

This definitely felt nicer than the wash station, though, and eventually, he was relaxing on his shocks, enjoying your thorough cleaning.

Once you'd finished his chassis and tires, you put on some swimming goggles and slid under his side. He'd been so entranced by your touch on his panels that he hadn't even noticed you slip underneath him. When he felt your touch on his undercarriage, he jolted forward an inch in surprise.

"Woah, Rachet!"

"Sorry, I didn't realize you were under there." He tried to speak as normal as possible, but you noticed the slight crack in his voice. Gently, you started scrubbing the cables and other parts that made up his undercarriage. You immediately took note of how tense he'd become and listened to any sounds he made.

He kept as quiet as possible, but he was definitely feeling things he hadn't in a few centuries. Luckily, no one was in the main room of the base at the moment. Even so, he didn't want you or anyone else to hear the noises his body was trying to produce.

You could, every once in a while, make out stifled grunts and groans, which made you grin mischievously. Eventually, though, you had completely cleaned every inch of his undercarriage that your small hands and the cloth you used would allow. So reluctantly, you slid out from under him soaked with soap and grime all over.

You stretched, removing the goggles and ringing out some water from the bottom of your shirt. "Woo! Now I need a shower." He transforms, looking himself over for a moment. "Ahem, thank you, y/n." He held his fisted servo over his mouth, looking anywhere but at you. "I could tell you enjoyed yourself." He looked at you wide optics, and you grinned up at him, giving a wink and walking away to take a shower of your own.

[grapejuicestyless]

Could You Imagine That?

JJ Maybank x fem!reader

Summery: You failed. The gold, the cross, the fame, the fortune. But really, who cared? Not when you had the best gift of all. Inspired by the song: Forever by Noah Kahan

We listen to Pope and Kiara argue about who knows how to build a fire better, throwing logs into a heap by a pile of rocks and lining stones in a circle in the sand. John B and Cleo make beds for everyone to sleep on and Sarah works on some sort of spear for us. Yet, JJ and I haven’t even given a second thought of how long we just might be here for.

Maybe a few more hours, a couple days or years. In the end, did it really matter? We’d been just fine so far and we’d swear the feeling of freedom was worth it no matter how starved we became or how cold the nights were. We’d screamed about Poguelandia hundreds or times already, calling out the name of this great island and hoisting the flag we’d painted with rocks and the mud packed beneath them. Our hands pruning from the salt water and our shorts left on the edge of the shore line while we ran around in our underwear, splashing around like little kids and laughing like old friends should.

“We’re broke!” We laughed, finding the fact that we failed more funny than anything. Because had we really failed if we got a greater gift than what being filthy rich could give us?

“But real rich in our heads!” JJ would scream back, chasing me down along the edge of the ocean. And when the waves slowed my strides he lifted me from my waist with his tanned arms, not minding how our wet bodies stuck together like glue and our clothes would surely stink like ocean for as long as we’d be here.

“Won’t be alone for the rest of our lives!” I laughed in his hold, and his grip restricted my lungs but I would take the ache that came with it over any other feeling in the world. Because even after he loosens his grip, he never really lets me go and I am reminded of how he’s always within arms reach. Ready to make me smile, make me laugh. And it’s worth more than anything money could buy.

“Can you guys help us?” Kiara calls out desperately, but even she can’t hide the smile on her face, how much she loves the idea of it just being her and the Pogues all together and safe for just a small moment in the grand timeline of adventure ahead. No parents, no threats, no blood or tears. Just the sun and sand beneath our feet. A good cooked fish roasting over the fire and beds woven with leaves under our heads.

“Come in the waters just fine!” JJ splashes, catching a glare from Pope as the salt water briefly tames the fire they just started. And when Kiara catches his line of vision, we don’t have to look back to know their broken laughter is because their stripping to join us in the sea. Ready to splash around carelessly like children do, like we do.

“Can you imagine being here, like this forever? No more window shopping or late rent!” I laugh, bearing all my teeth in my smile when Kiara wraps her arms over my shoulders and places a sloppy kiss to my cheek.

“Won’t be alone for the rest of our lives!” She repeats my words back to me, eyes shining with the glow of the sunset that casts a warm hue over her sunburnt cheeks.

“Poguelandia forever, baby!” JJ’s arms pull Kiara away from me, and like glue, I’m stuck to him with nothing more to offer than the sweetest smile and the world shining in my eyes. I feel more alive than ever and theres not an ounce of gold that could replace it.

“Oh my god!” Cleo laughs at the scene in front of her, dry wood under her arm and a soft blush in her cheek from the sun. We’re all drenched in salt or sweat but we can’t help but feel absolutely okay with it.

You could fly over head at that very moment, on the search for miserable teens in need of help and you wouldn’t even look twice. The way everyone laughed like brothers and sisters and cherished what the world gave them, you’d think we were on some vacation. Like we hadn’t washed up here by accident.

Broken bones and aching muscles worth every moment that led us to this island and this life.

Looking back at JJ, I see the stars in his eyes and the world under his feet. It’s all we’ve ever wanted. A simple life by the ocean with all the people we love. So, we might be broke, we might be hungry and by god we might smell but by god are we richer than most.

“Poguelandia forever.” JJ whispers only for my ears to hear, forehead pressing against mine and his eyes observing the crinkles by my eyes. His thumbs lift from my hips to rub against my cheeks. Then he kisses me, kisses me in a way I hadn’t felt since before death looked at us in the eyes and grief was all we knew. Like we both knew finally that it would all work out and we would be okay.

When we pull away, we share the same hazy look we had plastered on our cheeks before and his hands plant themselves firmly on my hips once again. Squeezing the skin between his fingers playfully and drowning out the world around us.

“Could you imagine that.”

[cherryredstars]

in simon's relationship struggles, you mentioned that he presents you with the ring and you hold out your hand and he slips it onto your finger without either of you saying a word... i love that idea as i am a quiet person myself. would you expand on that please? maybe some hcs about a quiet love shared between them?? sfw or nsfw (or both:)) up to you love your work so much <333

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x gn!reader

Warnings: Fluff

Summary: How you and Simon show your love without words. 

A/N: I smiled so wide seeing this request!! Thank you for loving my little blog!

Word Count: 770 (Not Edited)

It will forever be about the little things. Every detail and trait and action. It’s about the things that are magnified within the warm silence. It’s not a secretive love. A love that is shielded away from the eyes of others so it can be questioned. It’s the type of love that is so clear that there isn’t any question of its existence. 

Simon is so perceptive. He notices every micro-expression you have and the slightest changes in body language. He documents it in his mind, storing it for a later date even if it doesn’t seem important. It always comes in handy in some way or another. 

When he’s out on missions, far from home and missing you, he tends to imagine your reactions to everything. When he’s out in the towns, he’ll briefly pause outside the shop. He’ll remember the way you had slightly twitched your nose at the colors of a piece of clothing. How your eyes strayed onto something a few seconds longer than usual. Then he’ll walk away from the shop, remembering the name. He’ll be sure to return before he goes home.

He brings back trinkets for you. Always. And it is always something you fall in love with. The same details. He already knows what you would want. What would grace him with that fond smile as you cradle them in your hands. It’s all based on elimination. He’ll pick something up, examine every aspect of it and then go through his checklist of you. How you’ve reacted to similar things in the past and deciding from there if he should move on. He never misses.

In return, you do your little acts of service. Always making sure everything he loves is stocked in the house when he comes home. Has his tea brewing and the kettle going for his convenience. You have the spaces in the house prepared for him to place his things. You make the transition from military to civilian as smooth as possible. His heart warms when he goes to the kitchen at any hour of the day or night, huffing at the sink of dishes. But his body relaxes and the tiniest smile graces his face when he looks to the side and his mug is already in the drying rack waiting for him. 

He has never been more content than on the days he leaves for deployment. You will be dead asleep besides him, but it feels like you’re by his side the whole time he prepares to leave. In the kitchen, everything is laid out for him. The box of tea and the kettle and the to-go cup. A throw-away bag sitting in the fridge with a homemade meal for him to eat while he’s away. All the last minute things he grabs on the counter where he can’t miss it. 

Before he leaves, he makes sure you’re prepared for anything that might happen. He has carefully instructed papers for any situation. Step by step things followed with materials for reference. He makes sure nothing is broken or may be in need of a spruce up before he leaves to minimize your inconveniences. Makes sure the fireplace has wood to last months. Double checks the backup supply of water is filled to the top. Buys extra batteries for emergency flashlights and the back up generator. Makes sure the car has a spare and a filled gas canister that is safely stored away. He predicts any problems you may have and thinks of ways to reduce and prevent it. 

There are notes everywhere. You find them in drawers and in small spaces. In the obvious spots and the questionable ones. Inside pants pockets and coats. All have miscellaneous messages. Some paragraphs long and some with small drawings. It warms both of your hearts. You carry a note scratched out in Simon’s chicken scratch reading Why is there a bottle of water in the bathroom cabinet? Simon’s tactical vest has a crumpled and ripped hot pink sticky note that reads A magikarp can easily fuck you up <3 with the ugliest looking fish drawn under it.

The best form of your love is the quiet nights spent in each other’s company. Laying together with small brushes to each other’s skin. It burns into your hearts, and it’s nice to know that the two of you can just exist with each other. The kisses are slow and loving. The touches are lingering and full of yearning. When the two of you slide into bed, tucked against each other, you find it hard to think anything can exist outside of your love.

Simon has no idea what a “magikarp” is, and he has almost drunk micellar water before.

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[shiinata-library]

Imagine: They know you can’t sleep at night

Thorin, Fíli, Kíli, Bilbo's reactions when you can't sleep well during the journey.

Used to camping or not, sleeping outside in Middle-earth was something else than sleeping in your late comfortable bed in your world. 

Thorin

Even though Thorin clearly noticed you’re tired every day, there is nothing he can do. Too many things to worry and think on this journey before looking after you. Gandalf wanted you to join them, so he has to take care of you.

Except that the wizard is always lost in his thoughts and doesn’t notice your tiredness, or you hide it well. 

In truth, travelling on a pony is not tiring, especially because you always share it with a member of the company and they know how to keep you awake with their fun story or songs. 

Not sleeping the night, otherwise, it’s more tiring! The East Road is harder and colder than you thought. And of course, you don’t have any modern, comfortable material. Who could sleep on this ground with just a blanket under you and another on you?

But, you don’t want to trouble anyone so you stay quiet about it. Everyone has other things to do than babysit you…

One day, at the surprise of everyone, Thorin offers to share his pony with you. To give the other ponies a rest, he said. As you don’t want to argue and you’re quite happy to ride with him – even if it’s embarrassing – you do as he said and sit before him.

As Thorin rides in the front, you can’t hear what the others say. Luckily, it’s not raining so it’s calm and peaceful. You can admire the landscape while Thorin manages the pony’s reins.

At some point, you wake up in a startle. Thorin just has the time to slip an arm around your waist to avoid you from falling. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” you hurry to say, looking around you and noticing thanks to the sun that you slept for a while. “I shouldn’t fall asleep!” 

Your cheeks are burning, but you feel so well-rested now. Maybe it’s because of his comfortable, fluffy coat, or the peaceful atmosphere, or his warming, relaxing smell…

“Stop moving or you will fall,” he sighs as he holds you tighter to him. “I-I’m sorry!” is the only thing you can say.

“We’ll stop in two hours,” he says as you understand he means you can sleep again. “But, I don’t want to bother you. What if I fall and take you down with me?” you murmur as you feel his arm around you adjusting, making you blush, of course.

“I hold you. Don’t worry about it,” he murmurs in a regal, convincing voice. Then, as you lean against him like before, you fall quickly asleep. Maybe riding with him was the best solution so that you can rest…

N/A: Or sleeping with him on the ground. We can easily find other solutions, right?

Fíli 

Since you had left the Shire with everyone, some nights were more tiring than others. Hard, cold and wet ground is not your favourite thing, but you could have recovered in a few inn, or in great places like Rivendell or Beorn’s house.

But after that, Mirkwood is quite a challenge. The nights are almost totally dark with weird noises and a feeling of always being watched. You’re not scared because the company is close to you, especially Fíli since he decided the forest wasn’t safe enough to let you alone even for a minute.

So when the spiders attack, you don’t have the strength to defend yourself. When the elves capture you, it’s the same. I think you're the last person they capture since they know you won't do anything. Very embarrassing…

Woman or not, you're thrown in a dungeon like the dwarves, no special treatment! The place is not comfortable but it’s dry and no sooner do you lie down than you fall asleep.

“Let me see her!” “She may hurt!” “It’s a woman, don’t let her in this place!” You wake up, still tired like when you have slept for too long and your body doesn't know where it stands. You hear Fíli yelling from a cell far away from you. You don't know how long he's been shouting, but his voice sounds tired.

As you start to wake up, you hear your door’s cell opening and someone entering quickly. Fíli knells before you and puts his hand slowly on your upper arm. “I was just sleeping, Fíli. I’m fine,” you smile as you sit up slowly.

Fíli hugs you suddenly, his mouth coming closer to your ear. “I know you were sleeping but I needed to see you,” he whispered, holding you tightly. “I know you need sleeping but I didn’t know if you were hurt, and those elves–” 

“I’m fine,” you cut him off before he gets angry. “And I’m safer here than in the forest.” 

You laugh until you notice you’re the one one. Fíli ends the hug and looks at you, “You’re safe only when I'm with you. I will stay here with you. Now you can go back to sleep as much as you need.”

“Thanks…” you can only say, too embarrassed by his words as you lie down, looking for his hand to hold. Now he is with you, you truly feel comfortable to sleep for days.

N/A: Oh, it’s more fluffy than I planned. 😅

Kíli 

“You can sleep between us tonight if you want,” Kíli says one day after he saw you yawn several times in the afternoon, winking with mischief. He caught up with you on his pony with his brother not far behind. 

“Maybe in your dreams,” you answer with a smirk, making everyone who heard you laugh. Even Bilbo smiles. 

But little did you know that your answer would trigger a new form of amusement for the dwarf. Not a day went by without a similar remark when he saw you yawning. And as you don’t sleep well on a hard, cold ground, you yawn a lot…

You always laughed with him, inventing new answers making the others laugh, until your tiredness almost cost your life. After the trolls' exhausting night, you decide to sit down against a tree while the company explores the trolls’ cave. After a night like that, you could rest anywhere. So even if you didn’t want it, you fell asleep. It’s only when Radagast arrives that you wake up. 

Half awake, you hardly understand what is happening. When the company starts to run, you try to follow them but all the fatigue you have accumulated over the last few days is making your movements slow and difficult. Some dwarves want to help you but Thorin’s yellings convince them to continue to run. You notice a few arrows flying next to you, killing the orcs closest to you until you end up alone in the middle of nowhere. A few orcs notice you and quickly run after you. Even if you look around you, there are no traces or voices of the company, only the yells of the orcs.

At this moment, you only have your hands to defend yourself, or your feet to run. But Mahal, Yavanna or any god from here had decided otherwise. A group of elves on horses arrive just in time to save you. They bring you to Rivendell where the company is regrouping in a circle. 

During the conversation between Gandalf and Elrond, the latter helps you get off his horse. Gandalf smiles like you never saw and before you can say anything you feel two strong arms pulling you in a hug. Before you can say anything, you hear in a trembling almost crying voice, “I thought I lost you!”. Some incomprehensible words follow with quiet cries. You don’t know how to react so just close your arms on the dwarf you have recognised as Kíli, stroking his back to calm him.

“I’m fine,” you say with a smile as you look at the company, all still worried about you. “I’m a burden. You had no choice but to abandon me.”

“Don’t say that!” Kíli shouts as he pulls back to see you, his eyes still wet and red. “You’re not a burden! You were only tired and we left you alone…” He suddenly cups your two cheeks and pulls your forehead against his. “I promise we won’t abandon you again! And you’ll sleep next to Fíli and me every night! No negotiation!”

You can’t help but laugh at his attitude while you hear his brother sigh as he shakes his head.

N/A: I made him cry again. Oops! 😏

Bilbo

The ground is hard and cold at night. The morning dew is coverding you every morning. You don’t remember the last time you bathed. But well, do you have any other choice?

Oh yes, you have thought of walking back and to the Shire, but you can’t abandon them. So you stay quiet, enjoying the journey anyway. The days, when there is no rain, are fun. The company is fun and enjoyable.

However, there is one who doesn't mind complaining! Recently, a day hasn't gone by without Bilbo asking to stop at an inn. At first, he was asking politely, but now he just grumbles when the night falls.

It’s always a funny situation, especially when a dwarf hears him. “We’re sorry the ground is not to your taste, Mr Baggins,” some of them say. “Do you want some feathers for your pillow, Mr Baggins?” asked one of them when they plucked birds for the evening meal.

Of course, you try to hide your laugh, but Bilbo saw you every time. As you're in the same situation as him, you don't want to laugh, but the dwarves' remarks are always so unexpected that it's hard to hold back. So to take his mind off the situation, the two of you often have a chat before sleeping - even if you're a long way from sleeping. 

Yet, one day, Thorin decides to stop in a town to buy supplies and allows everyone to stay at the inn. As you have no money, you share your room with Gandalf and as no dwarf wants to share their rooms with Bilbo, he joins yours.

We won’t lie. It’s the best night for so long. A warm bath, wine with your meal, a bed. You even forget how comfortable a bed can be! Your room is far from what you used to in your world but it looks perfect at this moment: warm, dry, and with a bed.

“This is the best breakfast I ate for a long time!” you happily say in the next morning. “No offence intended, Bombur.” The cook dwarf smiles, understanding what you mean. You devour your breakfast like the company next to you.

“Did you sleep well, Y/N?” Fíli asks, nudging his brother with a smile. “Oh yes, very well,” you answer with your mouth full. “I was so tired, the timing was perfect! I’m glad Thorin let us sleep here.”

“I’m sure it's not uncle you should thank,” Kíli says with a wink, making the other laugh. You stay a moment motionless, frowning in incomprehension. “Did you sleep well, Mr Baggins?” Fíli follows up, laughing at the hobbit’s reaction.

Bilbo was listening without a word until he heard his name, choking on his breakfast. As you all stayed in a Men’s inn, the furniture are too big for him and he had to put cushions under him to get to the table, bringing him to almost the same height as you. You quickly notice his cheeks becoming pink as your smile gets bigger. Oh, and don’t lie. Your cheeks are pink too. 

“Oh, right! I should thank you, Bilbo,” you start, calling him by his first name as he had asked for a long time ago. You take his hand and squeeze it warmly, making his whole face pink. “I could never have slept in that bed if you hadn't asked so many times. I think I owe you.”

When Bilbo can speak again, he shakes his head, “No no no. You owe me nothing. I-I need a bath and a bed too!”

Then the others laugh and start speaking of something while you watch the hobbit resume his breakfast. Maybe you need to find something to thank him, but what? 

N/A: What would you give him to thank him? 😏

[peeponastick]

Touch My Soul, Pt. 2

Domme!Reader x Virgin!Uchiha Itachi  

Word count: 3.6K

Rating: Explicit NSFW 18+ Minors DNI

cw/tw: fem!reader, porn w plot skip to the diamonds for smut you horndog, name calling? (Hidan being an asshole, calls Itachi crow boy lmaoaoao), sappy and romantic, pining?, one bed trope heheh, hand kink, scent kink?, dry humping, corruption kink, praise, exhibitionism, breast & nipple play, cum play, ball play, dirty talk, cursing, use of pet names (sweet boy, good boy, etc), masturbation, not super intense BDSM D/s dynamics (reader is def a switch), inexperience & virginity loss (Itachi, let me cook), multiple orgasms, creampie.

Synopsis: Part 2 of Touch My Soul, (Pt. 1 here). Itachi is just a lil' nervous baby. The more time he spends around you, the more he doesn’t know what to do with his growing feelings. When you find yourselves in an unexpected situation, you take the wheel, ruining him for anyone else.

I really appreciate the love I got on my first-ever smut（╹◡╹）♡ (Yuji fic here). Wanted to follow it up with another kinktober addition, featuring one of my other beloved anime men.

I’m on a subby men streak rn and no one can stop me!!! Hope y’all enjoyyy <3 <3 

It was late that night when you heard two gentle knocks on your door that made you jump, butterflies fluttering deep in your stomach knowing it was Itachi at your door. The rest of your fellow Akatuski members surely had gone to bed already, making it the safest time for the two of you to meet alone. 

You hurriedly grabbed the nearest piece of clothing, slipping into your light pink satin robe that deliciously slinked off your curves, pausing in front of your floor-length mirror to wonder if it was maybe too much before shaking off your anxious thoughts and rushing to answer the door. 

You swung the door open to see Itachi, brows arching in surprise to see you in such a different light. “I- uhh,” he stammered as his eyes betrayed him, trailing down and back up your figure to drink in the stunning display you unintentionally put on for him. His cheeks burned red as he realized how indecent you must’ve thought he was being.

“I-I’m sorry, is this not a good time?” He nervously scratched his head, eyes darting around anxiously in an attempt to not ogle you any more than he already had. You had to admit it was adorable, seeing someone who seemed so composed and mature acting like a nervous schoolboy. 

“No, no, come in!” a smile on your face that you were unable to stifle, “Sorry, it’s just those robes we have to wear all the time are so uncomfortable, I’m out of them the second I can be,” you laughed lightly. He followed you into the room, guiltily indulging in the sight of your body from behind. 

As you cleared some space on your bed, he stood observing and admiring all the little knick-knacks and oddities you had scattered around your room, his eyes setting on a small ceramic figurine of a cat.

You sat on your bed and pat the spot next to you, signaling him to sit. He hesitantly approached, “You, uh, sure you don’t mind me sitting on your bed?” a sheepish smile creeping across his face. A giggle burst out of you, realizing how things could be misinterpreted. 

You shook your head, “It’s not safe to talk here,” you reassured him in a hushed tone, “I’ll use my jutsu to transport us into my soulscape, where we can talk further.” Itachi’s nervous energy dissipated and he sat beside you on your soft bed. 

Once again, you weaved the hand signs of your special jutsu. This time, you took Itachi’s hands and placed them on your shoulders before touching your forehead to his. He did his best to ignore the rush of blood and tingling nerves he felt being close enough to smell the sweet scent radiating off your skin.

You both were transported into your soulscape, where Itachi began taking in his surroundings in awe. You stood in a field of wildflowers under a cotton candy-colored sunset, an early-rising crescent moon in the distant sky. The magnificent colors lit up his visual field as he processed all the information flooding his senses about who you were and all you’d been through. 

He turned to you, an enchanted look of admiration in his deep brown eyes that made your cheeks burn, feeling flustered with vulnerability. You had never shown anyone your soul before and having someone see into you with such love was a foreign concept.

You cleared your throat, preparing to explain the inner workings of the Akatsuki, the intel you’d gathered, and the plan you were preparing to enact now that you had the piece you’d been waiting for– an ally strong enough to help you carry out the downfall of the Akatsuki and Madara himself. 

After that night, you found yourselves in each other’s room to strategize quite often, mostly in the late hours. The snickers from the other Akatsuki members rumored the two of you had begun dating and were trying to hide it. 

One night when Itachi was leaving your bedroom, gently closing the door behind him, he turned to find Hidan standing menacingly against the wall wearing a look of disgust.

“You’re always scurrying out of her room in the middle of the night, huh crow boy,” he sneered.

Itachi’s eyes blazed crimson “And what business do you have lurking around her door?”

Hidan scoffed and walked off, muttering his hateful thoughts about the two of you.

⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡

The more time Itachi and you spent in each other’s presence, the closer you became. Though you’d only known each other a short while, there was a mutual, deep understanding of one another’s souls.

He had never felt this way before, heartbeat nearly pounding out of his chest anytime you sat close, your hand accidentally brushing against him sending sparks through his body. Having to pull himself back down to earth every time he listened to you talk, getting lost in your sparkling eyes, every flutter of your full lashes hypnotizing him further. 

He had without a doubt fallen for you, almost certain the feeling was mutual. His perceptive eyes picking up every quick glance you stole at his lips, the way you blushed anytime his attention was a little too focused on you. 

He wanted more than anything to make his move, for you to be his, but all his years of being a high-ranking shinobi had never really allowed him time for relationships. How could he ask for something he had no idea how to do? And worse, he thought, someone as beautiful and amazing as you shouldn’t settle for someone like him. 

He knew you’d already seen him inside and out and accepted him fully, his sordid past somehow not making your opinion of him falter. But still, there was the matter of his inexperience, or rather, lack of any experience at all adding to his insecurity. 

On a night you had gone to his room, your planning and discussion went on longer than usual. Upon releasing your jutsu, Itachi stood up to find a paper he wanted to show you. You wearily sat on his bed, drained from casting your jutsu for so many hours. As he rummaged around his room, your eyelids grew heavier and heavier, body lightly swaying before you admitted defeat to your fatigue and laid yourself down on his bed, the sight of his back growing blurry as the comforting smell of his bedding pulled you in. 

He turned around to find you asleep, curled up with a sweet, peaceful expression spread across your face. He hummed affectionately, pulling the blanket over your worn-out body. He paused, staring at you for a moment, smiling to himself as he envisioned what it’d be like to have the gift of seeing this every night, before tossing a pillow on the floor for his makeshift bed. 

Your eyes blearily opened, “Whaa-what’re you doin’?” your voice croaked, still half asleep. 

His head tilted inquisitively, “I just, umm, figured I’d sleep on the floor so you can be comfortable,” he replied with a kind smile.

You outstretched your arms for him, drowsily shaking your head, “Noooo way, this is your bed,” you lilted in an almost child-like manner. His eyes grew wide, brain short-circuiting as he realized you were okay with him sleeping next to you. You impatiently waved your arms around, ushering him to come soon as sleep was calling your name. 

Itachi hesitantly approached, crawling into bed beside you trying to awkwardly maintain a respectful distance. You turned into his broad chest, nuzzling up to him with a faint smile on your face as you drifted back to sleep. His muscles tensed, heartbeat deafeningly pounding in his ears at being so close to you.

Focusing on his breathing his body eventually softened, looking down at you and feeling pure bliss. He had dreamt of this moment so many times, he couldn’t believe it was really happening. Wrapped up in the warm feelings, he soon followed you into sleep. 

Several hours later, Itachi woke to an unfamiliar stirring in his pants, tired eyes blinking with confusion at the pressure he felt repeatedly nudging his pelvis. His breath hitched as heat flushed his entire body at what he saw. 

You had flipped sides at some point in the night, your back now against Itachi’s chest as you pressed your ass into him over and over again, grinding against his growing bulge. You were dreaming, soft whimpers leaving you every time your hips connected with his in your unconscious state. He couldn’t help himself from wondering if you could be dreaming about him, ears ringing at every angelic sound you made. 

He fought with himself, feeling guilty for not waking you immediately, but he couldn’t help it, every rock of your hips into him sent divine pleasure rippling through his entire body, his cock becoming uncomfortably hard in his pants, even with such little stimulation. He closed his eyes, fully indulging in the moment for a few more seconds before he lightly tapped your arm. Noticing, in his heightened arousal, how soft your skin felt under his fingertips, how the heat of your sleeping body projected your intoxicating scent.

You were deep asleep, unresponsive to his gentle touch. He took a deep breath, collecting himself before he tried again, this time tapping a little harder, “Y/n, hey. Wake up y/n,” his deep, gravelly voice rasped in your ear. Your eyes opened slowly, “Hmmm? ‘tachi?” your sleepy voice squeaked, “Wass goin’ on?” you rolled back against him, looking up at his flushed face with confusion. 

Your mind shot awake, finally processing what an intimate position the two of you were in, “Oh shit! I’m sorr–,” a small gasp left your lips as you noticed his eyes dark with lust, feeling the growing bulge between his legs pressed up against your ass, “Fuck.”

Heat bloomed across your cheeks, suddenly overcome with heady arousal, the masculine and fresh scent of his skin and bedding sending pulsing shocks to your clit. A gentle moan slipped past your lips as you slowly resumed grinding your hips against him. 

He breathed deeply, his nimble hand acting on its own, trailing down the curves of your body to grab onto your hip, “C-Can I touch you here?” his voice hoarse with arousal.

“Uh-huhh,” you breathily moaned. 

His hand needily latched onto your hip, pulling you in closer, both of you feeling a magnetic pull between your cores. You rolled your hips together, the pace quickening as you began losing yourselves in the intensity of the moment. 

His breath fanning the shell of your ear from behind, you drank in the sounds of his gentle gasps and moans, breath growing ragged at the overwhelming pleasure he felt. His vision going hazy, he tucked his head into the crook of your neck as he began humping you frantically, his carnal senses controlling him. His large hand gripping you bruisingly, a strained moan dragged out of his chest as his orgasm suddenly exploded out of him, coating the inside of his pants with copious amounts of cum. 

You smiled sinfully, turning over to face him but he avoided eye contact, his cheeks burning bright red as he tried to catch his breath. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t believe I–,” his brows furrowing with embarrassment, “I’ve just never done anything like this,” he quietly admitted, innocent eyes anxiously scanning yours. 

A switch flipped in you. 

You hummed, tenderly stroking his warm cheek with your hand as your eyes fell to his lips. You smiled affectionately, “I know, sweet boy,” slowly bringing your plump lips to his, pausing a breath away, smile tinging with deviance as you looked deep into his eyes, “just watch me," you whispered against his mouth before pressing your lips to his. His lips parted with a shaky moan, kissing you back hungrily. 

Rolling onto your back, you began tracing the hills and valleys of your curves with your hands, stopping to indulgently squeeze your breasts, massaging your hard nipples. He swallowed hard, his sharingan eyes watching your every move, burning the moment into his memory.

Your hand snaked its way under your shorts, fingers dipping into the wet heat between your thighs, letting out a soft moan as you ran a finger over your swollen clit. You looked into his eyes, biting your lip as you began pleasuring yourself. 

He moved his hand to gently brush a stray hair out of your face, wanting to have a clear view of your features twisting with pleasure. Your head turned to catch his fingers along your open mouth. You wrapped your lips around his thumb, sucking on it as you looked up at him wantonly, eliciting a deep groan from his chest. You released your lips with a pop as he began messing your pout with his thumb, relishing in the sensation of your luscious lips beneath his fingertip.

He looked at you, eyes glazed over with lust, before passionately cupping your face and kissing you deeply as you continued playing with your pussy, thighs shaking and body tingling with heat as you rubbed firm circles around your clit.

Itachi was devouring you with his eyes, your body and mind buzzing with electric arousal at being watched so intently. 

“You can touch me, it’s okay,” you purred between breathy moans, reading his mind. You grasped his hand, guiding it up under your shirt to cup your full breast, “Like this.”

A whimper left Itachi’s lips as his warm palm connected with the delicate skin of your breast, exploring your body with fervid curiosity. Squeezing the plush flesh and ghosting his fingertips over your nipples, you moaned in delight. 

You began feeling the sizzling electricity of your building orgasm, fingers rubbing faster and tighter circles around your pulsating clit. Waves of white-hot pleasure washing over you as you rocketed into your climax, the feeling of Itachi's clothed cock, hard and eager for you again, needily pressing into you sending you over the edge. 

You collapsed with a pleased smile, taking a moment to catch your breath before sitting up unexpectedly, motivated and ready for more pleasure. “Itachi– off, please,” you demanded, needily tugging at the waistband of his black sweatpants. He hurriedly lifted his hips to pull them down, fumbling as he tried to yank it off his leg not wanting to delay a second longer, then grabbing the back of his black t-shirt’s collar to pull it over his head.

His length stood fully erect, no longer restrained by his pants. His body was heavenly, like a carved-marble depiction of a god. Pale skin covering his chiseled, lean muscles, marred with battle scars. His cock was so pretty, the perfect length and girth for a delicious stretch, bulging veins dancing along the sides, messy with sticky, white cum from his previous orgasm, and throbbing with need.

“Fuuckkk, you’re so big baby,” you licked your lips, mesmerized by the sight as you wrapped your hand around his length and began stroking his cock, using his cum as lube. 

His body heaved at the sensation, a choked whine leaving his lips. He let out a small gasp as you thumbed his glistening slit, “Such a pretty cock,” you cooed, dropping your other hand to massage his heavy balls. His eyes rolled back momentarily in ecstasy, he could cum again just from the way you spoke to him. 

You brought your hand up to lick his cum off before crawling over him, breasts brushing against his lean chest, hips arched seductively. Itachi laid there panting, so overwhelmed with arousal he couldn’t do anything but let out needy moans as his wildest fantasy unfurled in front of him. You lightly dragged your lips along the ridge of his ear, breathing lightly against it before kissing the tip of his earlobe.

“Mmmh please let me feel you inside me baby, pleeeease?” you moaned against his skin, kissing along his sharp jaw and down his neck, “Don’t you wanna know how good my wet pussy feels wrapped around your cock?”

A shuddering moan left his chest at your provocative words. You looked up at him, siren eyes hypnotizing him. He nodded enthusiastically with a dazed expression, pupils blown wide with lust, completely drunk on arousal– mind floating out of his body.

“Y-Yes, pl-pleasee,” he hiccuped, struggling to process that this was happening to him in real life. 

“Hmmm good boy,” a devilish smile on your face, “just lay back and let me make you feel good, okayy baby?” 

You got off him, standing up and turning around to teasingly pull your shorts down, giving him a front-row seat as you bent over seductively, sliding them off at a torturous pace, exposing your lace-covered pussy from behind, a sweet little whimper leaving his lips as he saw the wet spot from your orgasm. Pulling off your shirt to reveal a matching bra, his brain malfunctioned at how exquisite you looked. 

You then began languidly pulling your panties down, revealing your decadent pussy to his eyes. “Ooohh my–" he gasped, "oh my god,” feeling the pulse in his erection as it twitched with desire. You flashed him a confident smile, fingertips dragging up and down the curves of your body, feeling his dark eyes on you, memorizing every touch and squeeze.

Seeing his eager cock, precum leaking from his tip and dribbling down his shaft, you licked your lips, pussy fluttering in excitement at the thought of being stretched by him. Crawling on top of him like a feline stalking her prey, you drank in the sensual power you felt as you locked eyes with him. 

You captured his lips in a sweet kiss, “Ready sweet boy?” you confirmed. He was more than ready for you, breathlessly watching your every move in anticipation of what came next. Your juicy pussy hovered just above the head of his cock, so close his sensitive tip could feel the heat radiating from between your thighs. He hazily nodded, head foggy with such unimaginable lust and desire he didn’t know was possible to experience.

You slowly began sinking down on his cock, both of you releasing depraved moans, delighting in the heavenly sensation of his thick cock sliding into the hilt, burying deep in your soaking wet pussy. Your hands splayed on his chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall as he experienced the sinfully wet heat of your pussy for the first time. 

“Fuuuuckkk y/n, oh my god!” he cried out, he gripped the sheets with white knuckles. You gave him a moment, a sultry twinkle in your eye seeing him squirm in unbearable pleasure beneath you. 

You began riding him, the tight walls of your pussy squeezing his engorged cock as you slid him in and out, strained moans leaving his chest. You reached down to grab his hands, bringing them up to place on your waist as you bounced up and down on his dick. 

“How does that feel baby, hmm?” your voice pouring out of you like honey. He winced in unbearable pleasure, “S-So, fuck–” struggling to respond between panting moans, “sooo f-fucking good” he sobbed.

Everything was too much, too good– the unbelievably gorgeous sight of you on top of him, breasts bouncing, the way your tight pussy was milking his inexperienced cock. Heat pooled in his lower abdomen as the pressure at the base of his cock began rapidly rising. 

He looked up at you, eyes flashing with anxiety. He was too enmeshed in the moment to find the words, but he knew he was going to cum quick. Sensing his urgency, feeling his cock twitch inside you, you leaned down to kiss him.

“Want you to cum inside me,” you purred against his lips, “want you to fill my pussy up, pleasee.” Your words rattled around his brain, the tether binding him to reality snapping. 

Every fiber lit aflame with pure ecstasy, his mind went blank– only a singular motive, his primal need to release himself inside you. 

His arms flexed as he wrapped them around you, pulling you in closer to his chest, fingertips digging into your skin as he began pounding your pussy from below. Sounds of two feral animals ravishing each other echoed off the walls as you simultaneously reached climax, his thrusts growing sloppy as he stuttered his hips up into you. 

Obeying your command, he plunged his length into you as deep as he could, strangled moans reverberating in his chest, cock spasming as he began pumping ropes of his thick, hot cum into your pussy in amounts he had no idea he was capable of producing. 

“Oof-fuckkk!” you mewled, “Feel so full, such a good boy,” you praised, your hand pressing above his cock, near the point where the two of you were fused as one. You rubbed his lower abdomen, tossing your head back in pleasure at the erotic sensation of being stuffed so full of his cock and cum, overwhelming warmth spreading through your core. He whimpered at your words, cock quivering as your pussy clenched around him, not yet wanting to unsheathe his sensitive length. 

You collapsed against his solid chest, both of you sweaty, panting messes holding each other in a loving embrace, completely drained from cumming multiple times. He closed his eyes, a satisfied smile on his face as he ran his fingertips soothingly up and down your back as you pressed kisses to where your lips met his skin. 

“That. was. amazing.” his smooth voice blurted, his ability to form coherent sentences returning to him, “Thank you so much,” he leaned his head down to press a meaningful kiss to your forehead. You giggled, endorphins flushing your system making you feel giddy with love, you could stay like this with him forever.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

If you read this far, thank you so muuuuch I luvv you!! ♡♡♡

[undercoverpena]

coming home

summary: home. that’s what he feels like home. in truth, he has done for a stupidly long time. Longer than you care ever to admit.

javier peña x f!reader word count: 2k (this was supposed to be 500 words) content warnings: happy!javi, people saying i love you, tiny mention of spice, but more fluff. this is fluff. this is happiness, this is joy

Laredo nights are warm, and the days are hotter. 

The heat all dry, hanging—practically draping itself over all it can touch. And it reminds you of Bogotá. 

Splashing water on your face, you let the cool droplets hang from your still-smiling cheeks and cling to your lashes. Pausing before haphazardly drying your face and meeting yourself in the mirror.

The one in the bathroom of a friend of a friend of his. Someone he’s always known from here, in the city that is home for him—the same city which is slowly becoming the same for you. 

You adjust the collar on your dress, staring at the person smiling back at you, the one in this mirror and the one in his room. A person you are slowly getting to know, not used to seeing you smile with so much ease—or your cheeks warming by a stare from him here. 

Taking one last look, you step out. Your soles click against the tiled floor before you’re welcomed back by the setting sun and the lively yard.  

Before here, you’d never really been an outdoor person. Had always preferred being inside, tucked away, nestled under a shitty desk or bedside light with papers or a book. But, here in Laredo, living on a ranch with him—with Javi—it’s different. 

Here, you find more comfort on a chair on the deck than you do inside. You enjoy taking stock of the place—spotting him walking up to greet you—and even the feeling of the sun on your skin. More so when his brow furrows, glasses falling down the slope of his nose as his lips slide up into one cheek; outside again, cariño? 

It’s another surprising development of being with him. A thing he has also noted—another thing which has changed since the two of you moved into his childhood home.

Once in the yard, you're again greeted by the air, all thick, peppered with BBQ smoke and stuffed with loud music, with background instruments of laughing children and people catching up. 

Even if the sun is setting and the party should be simmering down, there are still plenty of people here. All smiling, all too happy to be here under poorly hung fairy lights and drinking once-cold beer.  

No one is ready to call it a night. 

It’s nice. Normal. Or it should be—and should feel so. 

No danger is imminent, no threat, no reason for anxiety to be thrumming through your veins. No reason for you to be on edge, even just a little bit. There’s just him, you and the boats. 

The ones you watch when you pretend you’re not, the ones he notices before explaining that he’s happy with his choice. Both see through the other but never bringing it up—never wanting to pick the scab, which is becoming smaller by the day. 

You know so because he always follows it with a kiss. A seal, a stamp of believe me. Your finger always slides along his bottom lip, thumb and middle on either side of his chin. They bother me too. 

You know neither of you has any more to give, not much left in either of you to be whisked away to another country to fight another battle. Not yet, maybe never. Both have found small ways to slide shards of the other back into place with some comfort that, eventually, the two of you may even heal. 

Glancing over at him, you find his eyes already on you. Your hand grabs another beer without even looking, holding his gaze—even through the shades on his face and the ones on yours. 

You don’t mind that he’s had them on you since you excused yourself since you vanished in the house and until you stepped back into view. You do the same—watch, admire. Take every available second to stare and drink him in, still only half-believing this is reality and not some fantastic dream.

A pinch-your-forearm moment: because you’re safe; because he’s safe. Because he wanted you here with him. 

Sometimes, you hold him too tight. Curl into him so your ear is pressed over his heart, listening to the steady thump which carries you to sleep. If he minds, he never speaks it—sometimes, he holds you back like you’re a raft that’ll stop him from drowning. 

Holding the bottle up, you see him shake his head. Short, curt—very distinctively Javi in a sea of people who keep shaking his hand. His stare on you, likely desperately, as you walk back, remaining on you as you slide around tables and smile at people who nod in your direction. 

Don’t leave me alone for too long, cariño. 

Their unrestrained joy at his arrival, your eyes watching it double as you stepped out from behind his shadow, hand firmly in his. You don’t know them, the gaggle of people waiting at the yard gate, but you know their voices rise octaves at the sight. 

And who is this? They’d asked when the two of you rocked up, Chucho’s apparent heads up to them all not enough of an introduction. Esta es mi novia—

Novia.

Sometimes, you feel your ears burn when it registers what he’s called you: girlfriend, his. At times, you almost pinch yourself in disbelief at how lucky you are. That you get him morning, noon and night—that you get a future, one which (at times) had felt like it was slipping through your fingers. 

Tipping his shades down his nose, they balance near the tip, letting molten brown smother you as you allow the hem of your dress to swing around your knees. It’s intentional how long you take to get back to him. Let him watch you walk towards him—choosing him—without fear or hesitation that you’ve decided to be here with him.

It happens slowly, but it almost stops your heart—his smile. It broadens on your approach, spreading through his cheeks and eyes, and you could swear everything gets a bit brighter. More saturated. More vibrant and full of life. 

Then, it shifts, spotting the mischievous glint spreading like wildfire as he runs his thumb against his bottom lip. Words—ones all sugary and sweet, tainted with filth, that he whispers into your ear as he tells you to be quiet—are heard in your mind. The ones in that voice he whispers late at night when his fingers tease your bundle of nerves, and his hips meet yours. 

That’s what makes you smile—right from your lips to your eyes—the fact you can hear him without him speaking a word.

You don’t lower the yellow-toned aviators on your nose, the ones you’d ‘borrowed’. You know he can see the same glint mirrored in yours. 

“Hey, handsome.” 

He snorts, letting his fingers—all long and calloused—wrap around your wrist delicately before pulling you closer. Doing so until you fold into him, his hands moving you until you’re in his lap. 

Then, a different heat slides over you, the scent of him filling your nose and soothing your tense muscles. An effect once only felt with good coffee and a perfect day—now all your days were perfect, or as close to as you could get. 

“Fuck, cariño. You in these dresses...”

Taking a sip, the beer drenches your tongue. A taste you’d acquired, grown used to since arriving hours before. 

You hum, light and airy. Letting it vibrate through you to him as you lie back into his chest, feeling the firmness of it and his cheek sliding against your neck. 

Home. 

That’s what he feels like home. 

In truth, he has done for a stupidly long time. Longer than you ever care to admit. Because it means admitting you'd been running from this, from him: from happiness.

Instead, you let it coat you, hang itself around your shoulders as if his broad shoulders and long arms are forever there. A comfort, a joy you can barely describe.

You feel him let out a breath, one he allows to dance along the fabric—and across your collarbone, before you turn your head to meet his eyes. Almost seeing your reflection in them, fingers lightly brushing back a strand which has fallen across his forehead. 

“You like them?” 

His fingers pinch the skirt in his fingers, tugging it, letting it rise up to your knees. “Like them… fuck, cariño. I love them.” 

It’s easier to take a sip and return to staring out—to keep indecent thoughts at bay. But he has other ideas. Calloused fingers gliding up the back of your knee, under the hem of your dress. Along the side of your outer thigh, your teeth nip the inside of your cheek, shifting your spine against his chest. 

Whispering, you dip your chin—hiding your lips behind your hand, “Javi. If you keep doing that, I’ll begin making my own music.” 

He groans, all breathy and low. The most perfect sound—one which dances to your ears, making your hips shift. It’s hard not to feel how hard he is—rocking against him ever so slightly, purposefully, as the arm around your waist tightens. 

Stop. 

It’s a silent protest. A pleading one. One that says you win, even if you never really wanted to. Because you have never really listened to reason—something you’re sure he appreciates. Something he's grateful for, even if currently he wishes it wasn’t in a yard full of family friends. 

Your head turns, sinking into his eyes again—all beautiful brown and soft flecks of gold. “If you want me to stop, you have to stop; otherwise, we’ll have to excuse ourselves.” 

“I know.”

Your eyes scan the party. The one littered with faces you don’t know, and faces he knows all too well. They’re all invested in one another, laughing, joking. His Pop’s across the way, talking to another older man. You’re about to tear your eyes back to him, when Chucho glances over, tilting his hat—that signature half-smile on his face. The same one you were given through the blinds—one you were sent in the rearview mirror when you first landed and found out Chucho had cancelled your motel reservation. 

I’m staying at the— No, you’re not. Javi… Pop’s orders. And I'm not arguing with him. 

Rolling your lips, you smile softer—settling back against Javi, feeling him relax as a song begins playing. One softer than the others, more guitar strings than thumping beats. Your back finds that comfortable space against his chest. The one you so often find when it’s just the two of you, and he refuses to let you sit in a chair beside him. 

“I like you being here,” he whispers. “In Texas… with me.” 

The tip of your tongue pokes out, swiping across your bottom lip. “Even when I sing awfully into wooden spoons in the kitchen?” 

“More so.” 

“Shit,” you smirk, sliding sideways on his lap, still curled into him, “You really like me...”

He tightens his arms around your waist, fingers digging in, holding you in place. “I really do, cariño.” 

You pick at the label on the bottle, trying to hide your warming skin and a huge grin, resting your head on the space between his shoulder and neck. 

“You happy here… with me?”

Swallowing, you purposefully meet his eyes, the ones already studying you, trying to unpick whatever your expression is saying. 

“Never been happier, Javi.” 

“Okay, cariño,” he whispers, kissing your cheek. “Good.”

You wait for a beat, staring out at the party. At the group of women dancing around their bags, the young couple dancing so woven together it’s hard to tell where one ends and the other begins. 

Slowly, you graze your fingers over his jaw, nails drawing a circle. “I love you too,” you whisper, not turning your head. 

For a brief moment, he stills. And just as quickly, he shifts, taking your chin with his fingers as he lifts your eyes to his. 

They’ve been swimming there for a while—in both of your eyes. Years of fear of getting close to someone muting them, halting them from escaping. There’s nothing to run from now—

“I love you, cariño.” 

You consider a thousand other words, an assortment of paragraphs you think of constantly that he deserves to know. 

But, instead, you kiss him. Coat his lips in your adoration, appreciation and love. Pressing those three words over and over as he kisses them back.

Surrounded by heat, sitting under fairy lights as the sun sets, you can't help but think, it's been another perfect day. 

an: i needed this as much as everyone else.

javier peña masterlist

[itwasthereaminuteago]

|| Now I Know ||

Frank Castle x female reader

Tags/warnings: kidnapping/rescue verrry angry Frank, violence, blood, trust, LOVE.

A/n: been listening to Work Song by Hozier a lot.

His muscles scream from the work, the kind of work you might call good and honest. The kind where at the end of the day his body is tired and drenched in sweat rather than tense with rage and spattered with blood.

He still does that work. You're watching as he washes his hands in the kitchen sink. If it's blood or dirt from the earth that is swirling down the drain you don't notice, only that those are the hands that could elicit a cry of mercy from death, or cries of pleasure from your lips. The gentle and sure squeeze of a trigger, whichever kind it is, he's in control. The movement and pressure of his fingers during either task is frighteningly similar, and yet there's something deep within you that welcomes and craves that similarity. The comfort you find in the tender way he has with you overrides all else, he may have the darkest of sins but he's all of his sweetness with you.

He's drying his hands on the dishtowel, concern and confusion plain on his face as he sees you looking through rather than at him.

"What's wrong?" He's asking you, and your focus snaps back to the depths of those dark eyes. "Nothing." you smile, but you're not all there and he knows it.

"You'll tell me if it's somethin', right?"

"Yeah baby," you nod, "I will."

He reaches for your face, fingers trailing softly along your jaw and you lean into him, relaxing as he cups your chin in his hand, bending down so he can kiss you slow and easy. He finds you there, he'll always find you.

On your lunch break your phone pings. Some days Frank would text you a sweet little thing, and today was one of them.

Love you princess xx

You're headed to the same place for the third day in a row. They must have been watching you. It was probably a stupid thing for you to do but you really liked the coffee they served there. You're looking down at your phone typing out a reply to Frank's text when it happens.

You don't even have time to fight them off, the last thing you remember is seeing your cup falling to the ground, coffee spilling into the cracks in the pavement before you are bundled into a vehicle, the strong chemical smell of the rag covering your mouth and nose.

.

Frank meets Curtis for a drink at lunch most weeks, it's something they've kept up since Billy. A mini therapy session for them both.

"You alright man? Been checking that damn phone almost non stop since you got here."

It wasn't unusual for you to not reply to him, you had been pretty busy at work recently. "Yeah, yeah. Sorry man."

Curtis isn't dumb, he knows when Frank's got something eating away at him. "C'mon, what is it? Woman trouble?"

Frank scrubs his hand across his face with a heavy sigh. "I dunno. Feels like she maybe still doesn't feel safe with me. Been trying everything, talkin' to her, tellin' her she can ask me anythin' about the past and all of that…"

"But it ain't about the past is it? It's what you're doin' out there now, Frank. It's a big ask to deal with that. But she's strong y'know? Just give her some time and if you're gonna keep on doing what you're doing, give her the truth if she wants it."

Pick you up from work later? Really miss you today.

Frank is nodding, but he's staring off into space. He sends another text.

.

Your head feels like a lump of lead as you wake up, slumped forward in a chair with your ankles tied to the legs and your wrists bound behind your back, the plastic of the zip ties cutting into your skin. Your eyelids feel like boulders are sitting on them as you chance a look at your surroundings. The upper floor of an unfinished building, sheets of polythene hanging from the walls and ceiling and scattered over the floor. You hear echoing sounds from the open doorway, local accents. Fear starts to replace the drowsiness as you become aware of a tripod with a mobile phone set up in front of you. The scuff of dust and gravel behind you makes your head whip round as a thick set bearded man with a scar under his eye walks towards you, turning over his shoulder to yell through the doorway as he sees you're conscious.

"Bitch is awake."

"Then it's time to play, boys." comes another voice, all sleazy and drawling. The owner of it steps into view and there's a twinge of recognition. You briefly met some of Frank's work colleagues from the construction company a while back when you brought him lunch as a surprise.

This was the blonde one, ruddy with a slight squint. Another man appears, he looks similar to the guy with the scar, but younger and nervous.

Your mouth is dry as you go to speak, rasping, the words sounding weaker than you wanted them to. "What's going on? Is this some sort of a joke?"

The dark scarred man laughs. "Sure honey, tying up pretty little broads like you is a whole lot of fun for us. But nah, it ain't no joke."

The blonde one draws closer, leaning down, his grimy calloused fingers running over your cheek. You flinch away as his stale stinking breath washes over your face.

"Your dumbass boyfriend's been making us look bad, takin' all of the damn work and getting paid fuckin' bonuses for it, making us look lazy. So we're gonna give him a lil incentive to quit."

"Ever think that's because you are lazy?' you snark back at him.

He gives you a lecherous grin then spits in your face. You spit right back at him but all it earns you is a swift backhand that splits your lower lip open.

The beardy scarred asshole cackles again. "Fuck she's a feisty lil thing. Kinda see why he's into it."

You pull at the ties holding you as blondie draws his fingers down your neck and yanks at the front of your shirt, sending buttons scattering across the concrete floor as he leers down at your tits.

"Yeah…" he muses, his eyes rove over you making you feel itchy and unclean. He flicks his fingers towards the phone, shouting at the young guy. "Hit record..."

You were scared but you also couldn't believe these fucking dunces seemed to have the grand plan of WhatsApping videos of them messing with you to Frank? They really had no idea who they were dealing with.

You strain and tug at the zip ties pointlessly, you know there's no way you'll be able to break through them but it makes you feel better. As you move you realise your phone isn't in your pocket. You just hoped the idiots didn't have enough sense to turn off the gps. Frank would find out you weren't at work at the end of the day, that you hadn't replied to any of his messages, he'd know something was up, that you were in trouble, right? He'd know something was wrong. He had to.

You try to calm your breathing as you see the blonde asshole slip a handgun from the back of his pants, it wouldn't be wise to talk back now.

The young one gave the thumbs up from behind the mobile and blondie started his spiel.

"Alright Pete, figured you might not be able to understand the situation if we just talked man to man… so just to make it completely clear, you're gonna watch this lil show we're making for you."

He walks over to you, grabbing the top of your head and turning you to face the camera. "See, if you don't quit the job and give us the fucking money you've stolen from us, I'll make your pretty little whore all mine. I'll tell you where to leave the cash, but first I'm gonna give you a taste of what I'm gonna do if you don't pony up… just so you know I ain't playin'"

Frank would find you, he had to find you.

.

His heart dropped into his guts the moment he learned you hadn't returned to your office after lunch break. The guy at reception thought you might have gone home sick or something and not had the chance to tell anyone.

He called you multiple times with no answer, no texts, no nothing. He was about to call Curtis when his phone buzzed with a video attachment from an unknown number.

Confusion rapidly gave way to a white hot rage that consumed his entire being as he saw Corey from work on the screen, and then you. As soon as he realised what the fuck was happening he was in the truck with the pedal grinding hard against the metal. He recognised where you were being held, one of the previous client's sites they had worked on downtown about a month ago.

.

The muzzle of the gun presses in and bruises against your temple. You close your eyes trying not to shake. All you can hear is Beardy's dumb laugh and the slow grating sound of a zipper right by your face. Bile rises in your throat.

Your heart soars as you hear your salvation bellowing from the stairwell.

"You want your money asshole?!"

"Frank! In here!" You shout and scream, desperate to see these fucking animals get what they deserve.

As soon as he hears your voice he's charging like a bull, the fire of hell itself blazing in his eyes as he grabs the gun and forces the blonde creep's hand backwards breaking his wrist with a sick crunch as if it was nothing. The asshole falls to the ground along with a faceful of Frank's boot as Beardy and the younger one pull out knives and start advancing in futility, because you know how this ends.

You see the beauty in the punishing raw anger that manifests itself through Frank's body, a slick, efficient killing machine. A fist, an elbow, a knee. He connects the dots so easily on his way to get to you, eyes scanning you frantically as he tugs the knife through the ties on the chair.

You're safe.

"I'm here baby, I'm here. You okay? You hurt?" His hands are light on your limbs, his thumb gently smoothing over the red marks on your wrists as he checks you over.

"I- I'm okay…" He's here. You're safe, you remind yourself.

"Any of those motherfuckers touch you?!" He growls, and you're only able to nod, too stunned to form words as you watch as Frank goes to haul up the sleazy blonde by the neck, his huge hand almost closing all the way around and crushing his windpipe.

"This one?" He asks, his voice is sharp gravel, you've never heard his tone like this before and it vibrates through you.

"Y-yes… he-"

You don't get to say any more as Frank slams him against the wall making him gag and choke, before punching his already bruised face into a pulp, breaking his nose and teeth within seconds. He wheezes pathetically as Frank's knee smashes repeatedly into his groin, and you find yourself unable to wrench your eyes away as he slides slowly down the wall when Frank is done, leaving a red smear on the plastic sheeting, a puddle of blood pooling around him as he reaches the floor and stills.

Frank doesn't miss the other one trying to crawl his way out of the room while he's distracted, swiftly picking up the tripod stand and launching toward him swinging it like a bat. You wince as it knocks the guy out cold with a splatter of blood painting the wall and he crumples to the floor.

Through the veil of your tears you see him, really see him. Frank came for you, he found you, he protected you. You're safe.

He holds you to his side all the way till you both get to his truck where he calls the cops and anonymously tipping them off to the location of three known abusers.

Back home you have to try so hard to satisfy him that except for a couple of bruises and a burst lip, you're fine. They never got to do what they were planning to. The anger and fear in you melts away with your tears as they flow, they're tears of shock and relief but he's still sorry. Sorry for letting this happen as if it was his fault, sorry for not knowing something was wrong much sooner, sorry that he can't keep you safe.

"I am safe, Frank." you assure, as you strip off your clothes and lead him to the bathroom, encouraging him to do the same. "I'm safe with you." His face is still pained and you know you need to show him, knew it from the moment you heard him coming to your rescue.

Under the hot spray of the shower you wash away all the filth that had tainted you. You run your hands over his body but he doesn't dare touch you, he doesn't see it yet, even as your lips brush over his bloodied knuckles he doesn't understand. He's still angry and afraid for you, and you feel it in his body as you press yourself flush against him, wrap your arm around his neck, your other hand going to his jaw to guide his mouth to yours. You have to show him that you need to feel him, on you, inside you. He needs to know the love you have for him isn't fragile. You know now that it isn't, it won't be beaten by this. Never.

He pulls away gently, he still believes you're scared of him and the things he's done. The things he does. "Baby, you don't have to, after what hap-"

But you're firm, pulling him back to you, pushing him up against the tiles and he's stunned. You're getting frustrated because he still doesn't get it.

"Frank, you're mine." He lets you guide his hands around your waist where you want them. "And I'm yours," you say pointedly, "now show me I'm yours, make me feel it."

This time when you reach for him you feel the difference. His fingers tighten against the softness of your skin like he can never let go. When you kiss him he kisses you back, he's still holding himself, letting you dictate the pace but a gentle nip with your teeth to his lower lip communicates your need more clearly. His thigh slots between yours, and you feel him getting hard against the front of your hip as you mould your body to his. His hands drop down to the curve of your ass as you rock yourself on his muscular thigh, your fingers twining in the longer hair at the top of his head as you stand up on tiptoe to whisper in his ear over the rush of the water…

Take me to bed.

He nods and you dry quickly and carelessly, desperate to be with him and feel his skin on your own. Your lips are still wet and slide so slick against Frank's as you move him towards the bed, climbing onto his lap as the backs of his knees hit the edge of it and he sits.

"You wanna stop, you just tell m-"

He's cut off as you push him back, a soft huff of breath leaving him as you're fierce in your demand for him to meet your energy. He's too good, being too sweet for what you need right now but he's catching up. Those hands, the ones that so surely dealt bloody justice for you, slide up your spine, one of them grasping the back of your neck as he surges up and kisses his way over your bare chest while you're grinding against him.

"Please, Frank," you whine into his mouth, tug on his lip with your teeth, and he thrusts upwards gripping your hip and meeting your desperate movements.

"Hey, I gotcha baby, I've got you…" he murmurs before carefully rolling you underneath him.

Your kisses are frantic, littering the line of his strong stubbled jaw but he soon captures your lips with his own, slowing you down, keeping that fire burning but calming you as he deepens the kiss. You open, and he permeates your senses, knowing exactly what you need, grounding you with his tenderness.

Limbs entangle until you're moving as one, body arching when his soft lips brush the skin of your neck, your ear, and you feel more than hear his words.

I'll always find you.

.

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[gyll-yee-haw]

I JUST FOUND YOUR ACCOUNT AGAINNN OH MY GODDDDDDDD I LOVE YOUR WORK SOOOO MUCH!! CAN YOU WRITE SOMETHING FOR DONNIE DARKO? 💕❤️

HIII, my sweet angel!!! <3

Anything you ask, my love, let's give our sweet boy some attention 😭🥺❤

Warnings: Donnie being a scared adorable baby. Unprotected sex, pain kink, dry humping, risk of getting caught, fluffy stuff...

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You woke up to weird noises on your window. You opened your eyes, knowing exactly what you would find. It wasn't the first time Donnie broke into your room like that, but it still scared you every single time.

He usually did that so you could make out after both of your families were asleep. But at the moment you sat down, ready to ask him not to do that again without a warning, you realized those weren't his intentions at all.

He looked pale. Lost. He had dark bags under his terrified eyes. The scene was heartbreaking. He rushed to sit beside you on the bed and hugged you tightly.

"What happened?" You asked, very worried as you hugged him back.

"Frank wants me to do something really bad." He confessed. "I don't want to do it, Y/N…"

"Shit. Did you see Frank again?" You sighed. "Well, tell him you won't do it. He can't force you to, Donnie. You're a good, sweet and kind person."

"Frank never finds me when I'm with you." His fingers squeezed your arms strongly, like he was scared you would disappear and leave him lonely.

"Yeah, that big ass rabbit knows better than messing with me, I won't let him hurt my boyfriend." You shrugged.

Even on such a serious situation, you were able to make Donnie laugh. Well, it wasn't much more than a chuckle, but he seemed to relax a little.

"Come on." You told him. "We can cuddle until it goes away."

He removed his shoes to lay on his side. The two of you faced each other for a second. Then he got a little closer and you wrapped your arms around him, keeping his face buried on your chest and his soft hair brushing your chin.

"You're safe now." You said, kissing the top of his head.

He lifted his head to look at you and whispered: "I love you."

Your heart almost stopped. It was the first time he had ever said that to you. And that look in his eyes was so sincere... maybe it meant more than the words themselves.

"I love you too, Don." You smiled at him.

You were ready to go back to holding his tightly, but, before you could, he placed his hand on the back of your neck and pulled you for a kiss. A hungry one. He had so many emotions he needed to let out. He would never be able to tell you how grateful he was for you always being there, and not thinking that he was crazy. Well, he probably would be if it wasn't for you.

His hands ran through your body, ending on your butt, squeezing and pulling your hips closer to his at the same time.

He continued kissing you while his hips brushed yours until he started getting hard.

"Donnie…" You moaned into his mouth.

"Need you, baby." He told you, then quickly glued his lips to yours again, his hands going under your shirt and he began stroking your nipples very gently with his thumbs.

Your body melted under his touch and you ended up letting him do whatever he wanted to you. He kept rubbing his erection against you, and even though you were both still clothed, it drove you crazy. But only when he stopped caressing your nipples and started pinching them, was when you gave up: "Shit, Donnie… Fuck me."

He would let out one of those adorable laughs he had as you started taking your clothes off. But at the sight of your naked body craving his, he started undressing himself pretty quickly too.

You two were laying on your sides, facing each other, and he lifted one of your legs, resting it on his hips so he could have access to your entrance. He began stroking your folds and you couldn't see his face very well, because the room was dark, but you could feel that the patterns of his breathing changed. His heart was beating faster.

He grabbed his cock and entered you at once. You bit your lip to control yourself, but he moaned loudly.

"Shhh…" You whispered. "Calm down, if anyone hears us…"

"I know, sorry." He chuckled. "But you feel so good, it's hard to…"

"Well, keep your mouth busy." You smirked.

He didn't understand it at first, but you took your hand to the back of his head, guiding his mouth to the crook of your neck.

He grabbed your hips and started pulling you down on his cock. It wasn't very fast, but it was so deep, and so good.

As he kept doing it, your fingers held to his hair very tightly, pulling it a little too hard. You weren't doing it only to control your moans, you knew Donnie absolutely loved the pain. You could tell by the way his teeth digged deeper in your skin every single time.

You pulled his body as close to yours as possible and whispered in his ear: "Harder, baby, please… make me cry.", followed by bitting his earlobe hard enough to leave a purple mark.

He absolutely lost it.

He flipped you over, so now you were under him and started thrusting faster inside you. His face buried on the pillow beside your head and you could hear the muffled sound of him screaming "FUCK FUCK FUCK".

He came hard, but kept thrusting until you came too, your walls clenching around him until his last drop was finally inside you.

His body collapsed on top of yours and you wrapped your arms securely around him again.

You kept stroking his back until you felt him relax completely. Maybe a little too much. He fell asleep.

You didn't have the heart to wake him up. He was exhausted. What if he saw Frank again? It would be better for him to spend the night, even if that increased the risk of you getting caught.

You would risk anything to make him feel safe.