#shot blasting system

[techexpertindia]

Material Handling System | Industrial Conveyor | TECHExpert India

Discover advanced Material Handling System designed to enhance efficiency and productivity for businesses across various industries. Surface Finishing System, Paint Finishing System (Paint Booth System), Powder Coating System, Pre-Treatment System, Shot Blasting System, Material Handling System, Industrial Ovens/Curing Oven System, Environmental Technology.

[dniendos]

Why do you have your name if you want Endos to interact? /genq

ooo lets goo backstory time >:]

so before the birth of dniendos we had it originally called thatendosysonyourdni / that endo sys on your dni because tbh ?? we thought it was funny or at least gives a good laugh... and then i had the brilliant idea of "wouldnt it be so funny if as being endo safe we had the url dniendos" and surprise surprise it was available !! side reason why is so that antis cant have it (endosdni is owned by an inactive ex anti endo syscourse blog boo)

[ariestrxsh]

olderbrothersbsf!matt x innocent!reader

જ⁀➴ ♡ content warning: smut, innocence corruption, masturbation, use of toys, oral (f!receiving), fingering, loss of virginity, sneaking around, getting caught, small age gap (both characters are adults), forbidden love

જ⁀➴ ♡ summary: your older brother is back in town for summer vacation, and he brings home his childhood best friend, matt sturniolo, who can't seem to keep his eyes off of you

this fic was requested/inspired by this ask! enjoy. (p.s. sorry i made matt so pervy in this. honestly idk what got into me lmfao)

dividers by @/roseraris

Young God

chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 |

You were in your room, listening to music, headphones in and volume on full blast while you sat on the edge of your bed, flipping through your playlist when some movement out of the corner of your left eye broke you out of your focus. You glanced up at your partially open door to see your older brother peeking through and tapping on the barrier to try to get your attention.

He was finally home for summer vacation from his second year of college. "Hey!" You jumped up, taking out your earbuds and throwing your arms around him in a big hug. "Hey, little sis. It's been a while," He greeted you, not having seen you since winter vacation earlier that year. Behind him was Matt Sturniolo, his childhood best friend who you hadn't seen in even longer.

"Hey, Matt," you said, your gaze traveling over towards your brother's best friend, who looked as attractive as ever. You'd always had an insatiable crush on him, and it didn't help that he had more facial hair, more tattoos, and a more chiseled jawline since the last time you'd seen each other.

He always hit like a drug, like a habit you couldn't kick, like a long-term addiction you couldn't shake. He flooded your system with cascading waves of dopamine whenever you looked at him and interacted with him. You craved him. However, you knew you couldn't ever pursue him.

Your brother had always warned you about him. "I know as you get older and start developing feelings for boys, you're gonna wanna start dating. But whoever you date, please don't date my friends, especially not Matt Sturniolo. I know he's my best friend, but the kid's bad news. He's only after one thing when it comes to girls, and he's off-limits to you," you recalled your brother saying to you.

After you'd started going through puberty, your brother had been hyperaware of the way your behavior suddenly changed towards his best friend. He'd started picking up on the way you'd been interacting differently with Matt, trying to get his attention more often and trying to find excuses to be in the same room as him, which terrified him.

You didn't know what he meant by that, only after one thing? You didn't know what that one thing was, but you secretly found yourself curious about it, and you wondered if it was something you could give to Matt. But you nodded at your brother, promising to stay away from Matt despite the way your stomach dropped when you looked at his friend.

"Hey, you're all grown up," Matt replied, bringing you back to the present. He subtly checked you out before pulling you into a hug, leaning down, hooking his arms around your waist, and picking you up. He let out a soft grunt as he lifted you into the air. He loved the way your body felt writhing against him as you giggled. "Put me down," you half-heartedly said, secretly loving the you felt in his arms.

Your brother shot him a look as he placed your feet back down on the hardwood floor beneath you. "I'm going off to college after the summer ends. Can you believe it?" You asked, swaying back and forth. "No, I can't. The boys at school are going to adore you," Matt said, nibbling on his lip and doing nothing to conceal the hungry look in his eye.

You didn't notice, but your protective older brother did.

"Hey, Matt and I are gonna go grab some dessert. He's gonna stay the night here. We'll be back," your brother said, wrapping up the conversation so he could go scold Matt in the car and remind him of the rules about hitting on his little sister. "Can I come?" You wondered, your eyes lighting up at a chance to be in Matt's presence once again. "I don't think that's a good idea," your brother started to say.

"Come on. Let her tag along so we can all catch up. I'll buy," Matt offered, looking back over at you with a smug smile. "Fine," your brother hesitantly said, leading the three of you out to the garage. You sat in the backseat in the middle and clicked your seltbelt closed.

On the way to get a sweet treat, Matt sat in the passenger seat with his head craned all the way around, his eyes lingering on your sweet treat between your thighs. You'd forgotten you were in a skirt and were innocently sitting with your legs splayed out while your pink panties peeked out from underneath the short fabric.

Your brother, who was focused on the road, was completely unaware of the show you were unknowingly putting on for Matt.

"So, what have you been up to since the last time I saw you? You got a boyfriend now?" Matt lustfully cooed, not that he cared if you did, while studying the outline of your puffy lips through your underwear. He bit down on his lip while his cock jumped in his jeans at the sight.

Your brother glared over at him, recognizing the tone of voice he was using on you. The same he'd use when trying to take girls to bed. "No. All the boys my age are so immature. I don't want to be with any of them," you said, making a face. "Oh really?" Matt replied in a smug voice.

You guys had arrived at your destination, and after you guys had all ordered your desserts to go, Matt was handing his card over to the employee and giving you sly looks while he undressed you in his mind.

The three of you piled back into the car to head home. Matt watched intently as you swirled your tongue around on your strawberry ice cream, imagining you were lapping up something else. "Thank you for the dessert, Matt. It's so good," you said, letting out a soft moan while you savored the taste. You weren't trying to tease him, but you were driving him wild.

"Oh, a little is dripping onto the sides there," Matt pointed at the melted, pink liquid leaking down the waffle cone, and you licked a long stripe up the dessert, cleaning it off with your tongue. "Almost got it. Give it one more good lick," he urged you.

"That's it. Good girl. You got it," Matt purred, licking hot fudge off his spoon as you dragged your tongue up the length of your cone once more. His eyes flashed back to your panties, and he noted a small damp spot on the front of the pink cotton. Blood rushed to your cheeks as Matt watched you.

Your brother reached over and slugged Matt in the arm, almost making him drop his hot fudge sundae. "Hey!" Matt exclaimed. "Hey, why'd you do that?" You innocently asked, secretly enjoying the way Matt was watching you and talking to you. "Don't worry about it. Matt's just being a perv," your brother scoffed.

You realized where Matt's eyes kept traveling back to when he wasn't watching you clean off your cone. Suddenly, you became self-conscious, slamming your legs shut and going back to eating your ice cream in silence while you looked out the window.

It's not so much that you minded Matt viewing you that way. It's that your brother was picking up on it. You avoided eye contact with both of them, worried that they had noticed how much you liked when Matt had called you good girl.

No one said a word the rest of the awkward car ride home. Later that night, the boys went into your brother's room, which was only ever occupied when he was home from school, to play video games.

You desperately needed to take care of the aching feeling between your legs you'd been wrestling with since Matt had picked you up earlier when you'd hugged him. You reached into your pink panties and started slowly rubbing yourself while you pictured Matt.

On the other side of the wall, Matt and your brother were tapping away on their controllers in front of their game. Your brother was quietly berating Matt for the way he was looking at you and talking to you earlier while they waited for the next round to render.

"Dude, that's my sister. Please don't try anything."

"Relax. I'm just having a little fun making her blush. She's really cute when she gets all worked up," Matt smugly responded. "Gross. Don't talk about her like that. If you lay a finger on her, our friendship is over. I'm serious," your brother said in a somber tone. How about in her? Matt silently wondered, smirking to himself.

"Seriously, I'll kill you if she loses it to you," he told Matt sternly, insinuating you were a virgin. "She hasn't lost it yet?" Matt's gazed off into the distance as a perverted scene unfurled in his mind. "Gross. Forget I told you that. Just stay away from her," your brother said, eating his words after he remembered Matt had a thing for innocence corruption.

"Don't worry," he smirked, holding up both hands up in a defensive position, despite the thoughts going on behind his eyes about stuffing you for the first time. "I'm going to bed after this game. I feel sick after watching you with her today," he grumbled, rolling his eyes.

Matt brushed off his friend's comments. It's not that Matt didn't value his friendship with your brother and love him dearly. It's just that he was weak to his carnal desires, unable to say no to them and unable to turn down temptation when it was taunting him. Especially when it was forbidden fruit.

After they finished their final round, they shut off the light and Matt laid down on the floor next to your brother's bed with a blanket and a pillow. Your brother had fallen asleep and started softly snoring, and right as Matt began to drift off, a low hum woke him up.

At first he thought he was getting a call, but when he peered down at a black screen after picking up his phone, he realized the vibrating was coming from somewhere else entirely. It was low, unwavering, and seemed to be coming from the other side of the wall, in the direction of your bedroom.

Matt stealthily got up and slipped out the room. When he stepped into the hallway, he realized a dim light was pouring out of your room and into the hallway through a crack in your door you'd left open a bit on accident. Matt approached your room and peered in through the sliver of space between the door and the frame.

There you were, bathed in warm candlelight, laying on top of your blanket naked, legs spread, and steadying a vibrator on your clit. Matt smirked to himself as he studied the way your thighs quivered while you used your toy.

Your lips were fixed in an o shape, your cheeks were pink, and your brows were pinched together. You shut your eyes and threw your head back as Matt's name slipped through your slew of whimpers.

He poked his head into your room, pushing the door open, and he slowly invited himself inside, approaching you to get a better look at you. He loved the way your slick folds glistened in the soft lighting, and the way your breasts started to subtly bounce as you started to violently shake.

You were right on the verge of greatness, slowly nearing a climactic ending, when your eyes fluttered open, and you saw Matt standing at the foot of your bed, staring down hungrily at your pussy. Immediately, you grew insecure about being watched, chasing away your orgasm.

"Matt!?" You said his name again, but this time in an aggravated whisper. "Poor thing. All alone in here. Why play with those toys when you could have the real thing?" Matt cooed, reaching for your pink vibrator. You handed it to him while it was still buzzing, and when he rested it back onto your clit, you let out a relieved sigh in response.

"Good girl. Just lay back and relax. Just here to help," he softly directed you. "Oh, Matt," you breathed out softly, lifting your hips up and grinding up against the vibrator in his grip. You glanced down at his smirk and how his eyes were fixed on the way you were clenching around nothing.

With his free hand, he took his middle finger and started teasing your folds with it. Your eyes widened as he sunk his finger into your drooling cunt. For a moment, you thought you must be dreaming. You let out a loud, satisfied sigh as he pushed it all the way in.

"You gotta be quiet, sweet thing. If your brother had any idea what I'm doing to you right now, he'd kill me."

You nodded at him and placed your palm over your mouth to muffle all the noise you couldn't keep yourself from making. "It's gotta be our little secret," he grinned at you as he added another finger, and you could feel the cold metal of his rings on the warm flesh of your thighs as he pumped them back and forth into your heat.

"You're so tight," he whispered, relishing in the way you clenched around his digits while they started to stretch you out. He shut off your toy for a moment, setting it off to the side, and repositioning himself.

He lowered his head between your legs while he fingered you, and he started to work his mouth on your special place, rolling his soft tongue over your clit and manipulating your folds with it. He closed his lips down around your bundle of nerves and gently hummed against it, recreating the feeling of the vibrator, only much better.

You arched your back up off the bed and rolled your hips forward, chasing the sensation of his tongue exploring places no one ever had before. "Like that, princess?" He asked you in between licks. "I love it," you whispered back.

Your eyes rolled back into your head, and your legs started to tremble as he continued stimulating you with his mouth and his fingers. "Good girl. You got this," he cooed while you got close. His fingers curled so perfectly, hitting all the right spots while you kept your hand held tightly over your mouth, desperately trying to avoid waking anyone up.

"That's it, pretty thing. Cum all over my fingers," Matt purred sweet nothings from between your legs while he felt you starting to tighten around his fingers. "Relax. Let it happen. Give in to how good it feels," he talked you through it while you shook beneath him, experiencing your very first orgasm given to you by another person.

You let out a few soft whimpers that you couldn't keep to yourself while you steadily throbbed around Matt's fingers that had slowed to a stop once you'd finished. He licked them clean, and he complimented your flavor as he started pulling his cock out of his sweatpants.

You couldn't see much in the low candlelight, but it was intimidating-looking. You could see the veins that texturized his thick shaft, and you could make out how swollen the mushroom-shaped head was.

"You ever had one of these in here, sweetheart?" Matt cooed, giving you a devilish smile, and introducing his bulbous tip to your slick hole. You bit your lip and shook your head from side to side, confirming your innocence to him.

"Oh, poor thing. Let's fix that. You're way too cute to not be getting fucked," Matt groaned as he pushed it in. You squelched around his thick rod, and he shoved it all the way in until it filled you entirely, the base of his dick resting against your entrance.

You felt your pussy expanding around him as he started rocking his hips back and forth, hitting a pleasant spot deep inside of you. You held your breath for a moment, still adjusting to the size difference between his fingers and his cock, and when you exhaled, a few stifled sounds came through. It hurt so good.

"Good girl. You're taking me so well. Can't believe this is your first dick," he praised you softly while he delivered a few harder thrusts. Soon, there was no pain at all, only pleasure.

He grabbed you by your waist, steadying himself while he started to speed up, getting caught up in how good your virgin hole felt wrapped around him. He watched as he pumped back and forth, fixating on the way you coated his length in your arousal.

"That's it. Take it like the good girl you are. I know you've been dreaming about this for years," he smirked at you, and you eagerly nodded in response. It was like a fantasy come true, losing your virginity to a forbidden man, your brother's best friend, while your brother slept soundly one room over.

The bed started gently rocking and making a soft rhythmic thump thump thump as the headboard made contact with the wall. But each of you were too caught up in how incredible the other person's body parts felt to care about the noises you were making.

Matt picked up your toy again, and after propping your right leg up onto his shoulder to get a deeper stroke, he turned on your vibrator once more and held it on your clit again, sending your eyes rolling back in your head and causing your jaw to fall open in sheer desire. You'd never experienced stimulation quite like this, and you didn't know how badly you craved it until now.

When your gaze shifted back to Matt, he was peering down at you with glossed over eyes and a pleasure-filled expression. You were both at the gates of heaven, about to immerse yourselves into a shared orgasm that neither one of you could fend off any longer.

"That's it. Be a good girl. Finish all over my forbidden cock," Matt whispered, all too aware of the dynamic that existed between you, mocking your brother's attempt to keep you two apart, that instead drove the two of you into each other's arms in a twisted self-fulfilling prophecy.

You both tensed up, Matt injecting you with his seed and filling you to the brim while you throbbed around him, milking him dry. You guys softly moaned in harmony, your bodies moving in unison. The sound of the bed thudding against the wall came to a stop, and the buzzing of your toy dropped off when Matt killed the power on it.

"Wow. Your pussy is so pretty pumped full of my cum," Matt whispered with an edge of thrill in his voice as he pulled his meat out of you and watched the way it leaked out of you while you continued clenching around negative space, recovering from the orgasm Matt had just given you.

He was still admiring the mess he made inside you that started to leak onto your sheets when a stern and infuriated voice boomed from behind him, sending chills down his spine and sending a sobering wave of fear through his system when he realized the two of you had been caught. It was your brother, watching from the door way.

"I thought I fucking told you to stay away from her, Sturniolo."

part two here ❣️

taglist: @bsturnzmtt @sturniolo-girl @theyluvme-2315 @zariyam @brookiecookie-18 @maggot3647 @slut4chriztopher @strnlslvr @sleepysturniolo @lvrsturniolo @sofieeeeex @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @matts-myloverboy @witchofthehour @slutforsturniolosss @jaysturniolo @sturniolosweetheart33 @whoahoahoahoahoa @ilovechrissturniolosposts @smt-obsessed @sturnioloxlver @that1fangirll @hrtz4alex2211 @luvhsien @sp3ncerslvt @sturniolo-munch44 @jakewebberswifee @ssturniolooss @thenickgurl @sturniolo-fann @sst7niolo @babysturniolo @chestersturniolo @riowritesitall @camzeecorner @mattsturnixlo @annedebeijer @scorpioosworld @mattlover-00 @sweetlikesug4rvenom @m11rx @sturniolocharms @mickelodeon-2003 @sigmarizzler1 @chrislova @stellarsturns @lelesturniolo @sturniolodoll @ilovemattsturn @blahbel668

[wendichester]

⋆˚࿔ movie night,

summary. just you, dean, popcorn, blankets, and a shitty movie he picked out.

pairing. dean winchester x reader genre. fluffy giggling fluff

wordcount. 1040

notes / warnings. steamy makeout incoming ehe

The bunker’s too quiet.

You can hear the hum of the overhead lights, the creak of old pipes, the shuffle of Dean’s socked feet somewhere behind you.

You dump the popcorn into a massive bowl, salty steam rising up to fog your glasses for a second. Dean clinks two beers onto the counter next to you—no words, just the casual kind of comfort you only get after a million battles fought side by side.

You glance at him. He’s grinning like an idiot.

"Pick something good," you say, bumping your hip into his.

He bumps back, harder. "Please. I always pick something good."

You snort. "Your last choice had a three percent on Rotten Tomatoes."

Dean clutches his heart like you shot him. "Blasphemy. Sharknado 3 is a masterpiece."

You roll your eyes and scoop up the popcorn, leading the way into the library where you’ve already piled up a mountain of mismatched blankets and cushions on the couch.

Dean whistles low under his breath. "Damn. You tryna seduce me?"

You toss a kernel at him. "Shut up and sit down."

He laughs—that laugh, warm and lazy and scratchy around the edges—and drops down onto the couch, patting the spot next to him.

You settle in, blanket tucked around your legs, bowl balanced on your knees. Dean grabs the remote, thumbs through the options, and—predictably—lands on something full of explosions and car chases.

"Perfect," he announces, cracking open his beer.

You fake groan but lean in anyway, shoulder brushing his. (you tell yourself it's casual. innocent. totally fine.)

At first, it’s easy. Just popcorn and snarky commentary and Dean cursing at the screen every time someone does something monumentally stupid. His knee knocks against yours every now and then. His arm stretches along the back of the couch, definitely not on purpose.

You sip your beer, half-watching the movie, half-watching him.

God, he’s gorgeous. T-shirt clinging to broad shoulders, scruffy jawline catching the soft light, green eyes flickering between the screen and you like he can’t decide what he wants to watch more.

You shift under the blanket, suddenly too warm.

And then it happens.

Halfway through a chase scene, his hand finds your thigh.

At first, it’s casual. Like maybe he just... forgot there was a boundary there. His fingers brush your jeans, resting lightly just above your knee.

You freeze.

Dean doesn’t look at you. Just sips his beer. Like he didn’t just set your entire nervous system on fire.

Minutes tick by.

His thumb starts to move. Slow, lazy little strokes against your denim-covered skin. Up and down. Barely-there pressure that somehow feels louder than the movie blasting from the speakers.

Your heart’s pounding so loud you’re half-convinced he can hear it.

You dare a glance at him.

Dean's watching the screen, but his jaw’s tight. His tongue flicks out to wet his lips, and his fingers tighten just slightly against your leg.

The movie might as well be in another language now. You can't focus on anything except the slow, deliberate way Dean’s hand is traveling up, higher and higher, brushing the edge of your hip under the blanket.

You shift—accidentally on purpose—turning to face him more, your leg draped over his.

He catches your eye.

The whole world tilts.

"Come here," he says, voice low, rough.

You barely have time to process before he’s tugging you into his lap, your knees bracketing his thighs, the blanket falling around you both like a secret.

Your hands find his shoulders instinctively—solid, warm, real.

He’s looking at you like you’re the only thing that exists.

"You sure?" he asks, voice cracking a little.

You nod. Swallow thickly. "Yeah. I’m sure."

And then Dean’s hands are sliding up your back, tugging you closer, and his mouth is on yours.

It’s messy at first. All clumsy mouths and bumping noses, teeth clashing because you’re both too desperate to slow down.

Dean groans into your mouth, deep and needy, and it shoots straight through you like lightning. His hands are everywhere—your back, your hips, threading into your hair to tilt your head just right.

You fist his t-shirt, dragging him closer, gasping when he nips your bottom lip and soothes it with his tongue.

The movie blares on, but it’s just noise now. The real show’s happening right here, in the cocoon of blankets and popcorn crumbs and Dean.

He pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, both of you panting.

"Been wantin' to do that forever," he admits, voice wrecked.

You smile, dizzy and breathless. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he mutters, and then he’s kissing you again—slower this time. Like he’s trying to memorize it. Like he’s trying to make it last.

Your hands slide up into his hair, tugging gently, and he groans, deep and broken, like you just short-circuited whatever control he had left.

You grind down into his lap without even thinking about it, and he jerks beneath you, clutching your hips tighter.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he breathes against your mouth. "You’re gonna kill me."

You smile against his lips. "That’d be a hell of a way to go."

He huffs a laugh—wrecked and happy—and kisses you again, deeper, slower, lazily stroking his hands down your sides like he’s savoring you.

You lose track of time.

Kissing and touching and laughing quietly when you bump noses or when Dean mutters something filthy against your skin that makes you whimper.

Eventually, the movie ends.

The credits roll.

The screen goes dark.

But you’re still there, straddling Dean’s lap, tucked against his chest, his arms wrapped around you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

You nuzzle into the crook of his neck, breathing him in—beer and soap and leather and Dean—and feel his lips press a soft, sleepy kiss to your temple.

"You’re stayin’ here tonight," he murmurs.

It’s not a question.

It’s a promise.

You hum in agreement, too warm and sated and safe to argue.

Dean shifts just enough to pull the blanket tighter around you both, settling back against the couch with a satisfied sigh.

You fall asleep there, tangled together, with the flickering TV light casting soft shadows over the best damn thing you’ve ever found in the dark.

Home. Right here. Right in his arms.

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

[pomegranatelifethis]

New Robin

The Batcave smelled like motor oil, leather, and the faint tang of Alfred’s freshly baked cookies, which you were currently swiping from a plate on the workbench. You, the newest and youngest Robin, were sprawled across a chair, one leg dangling, a cookie in one hand and your phone in the other, giggling at the latest chapter of your very spicy Batman fanfiction. The working title? “Caped Crusader’s Forbidden Night.” Pure genius, if you did say so yourself.

“Shouldn’t you be training?” Dick Grayson, the first Robin and current Nightwing, leaned against the Batcomputer, arms crossed, giving you that annoying big-brother stare.

You grinned, popping the cookie in your mouth. “Training’s boring. Punch, kick, dodge, blah blah. I’d rather write my masterpiece.” You wiggled your phone at him, knowing it’d make him squirm.

Dick’s eyes narrowed. “Please tell me you’re not still writing that… stuff.”

“Oh, I am. And it’s steamy. Wanna read the part where Batman—”

“NO.” Dick’s voice cracked, and he threw his hands up. “I’m begging you to keep that away from me.”

You cackled, loving how easy it was to rile him up. Being the youngest Batfamily member had its perks: you could get away with murder (figuratively, of course). At sixteen, you were a whirlwind of chaos, a Robin who preferred pranks over protocol, jokes over jabs, and daydreaming over discipline. Bruce had taken you in after catching you hacking into the Gotham City traffic system to create a smiley face with the lights. He saw potential; you saw a playground.

“Focus, kid,” came a gruffer voice. Jason Todd, Red Hood himself, stomped into the cave, wiping blood off his knuckles. “You ditched sparring again. I was gonna go easy on you.”

“Easy? You threw me into a dumpster last time!” you protested, sitting up.

“That was an accident,” Jason said, smirking. “Mostly.”

You stuck out your tongue and went back to your phone, typing furiously. “Batman’s cape billowed as he pinned the mysterious stranger against the wall, his gravelly voice a low growl…”

“Yo, what’s she typing?” Tim Drake, the third Robin and resident caffeine addict, peeked over your shoulder, then immediately regretted it. “Oh, God, no. Why is Bruce in this? Why is there romance?”

“It’s art, Timmy!” you declared, clutching your phone to your chest. “You wouldn’t understand true creativity.”

“It’s a crime against humanity,” Tim muttered, rubbing his temples. “Bruce would have an aneurysm if he saw this.”

“Then don’t tell him,” you said sweetly, batting your lashes.

“Tell me what?” The deep, unmistakable voice of Bruce Wayne—Batman himself—echoed through the cave as he stepped out of the shadows, cowl off, looking like he’d just survived a board meeting and a gang war.

You froze, phone slipping from your fingers. “Uh… nothing! Just, um, writing my… mission report?”

Bruce raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “You’ve never written a mission report in your life.”

“Rude!” you gasped, hopping to your feet. “I’m a great Robin! I stopped that bank robbery last week!”

“You stopped it by rigging the sprinklers to blast ‘Baby Shark’ until the robbers surrendered,” Dick pointed out.

“And it worked!” you shot back, hands on your hips. “Admit it, I’m a genius.”

“You’re a menace,” Jason said, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes.

Bruce sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re supposed to be training. Being Robin isn’t a game. It’s discipline, focus—”

“Blah blah, I know,” you interrupted, mimicking his gravelly tone. “‘I am the night, I am vengeance.’ Lighten up, B! I’ve got this.”

The cave went silent. Dick looked horrified. Tim looked impressed. Jason snorted, muttering, “She’s got guts, I’ll give her that.”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed, but before he could lecture, Damian Wayne—the current Robin and your reluctant partner—stormed in, katana in hand. “You skipped our patrol route planning again!” he snapped, glaring at you. “You’re an embarrassment to the mantle!”

“Oh, chill, Baby Bat,” you said, ruffling his hair, which he dodged with a scowl. “I was busy creating culture. Besides, I already memorized the routes. West End, Crime Alley, then the docks. Easy peasy.”

Damian sputtered. “You—how dare you call me—Father, she’s insufferable!”

“Join the club,” Tim muttered.

You grinned, undeterred, and tossed Damian a cookie. “Eat a snack, Dami. You’re cranky.”

He caught it but looked like he wanted to throw it back at you. Bruce, meanwhile, was still staring, clearly debating whether to ground you or just give up. “You’re on probation,” he said finally. “No patrols until you complete a full training session.”

“Probation?!” you whined, flopping dramatically onto the floor. “This is oppression! I’m being silenced!”

“You’re being disciplined,” Bruce corrected, turning to the Batcomputer. “And delete that fanfiction.”

“Never!” you shouted, scrambling to your feet and bolting for the stairs. “You’ll have to catch me first!”

Jason laughed outright as you sprinted out of the cave, Alfred’s voice calling after you, “Miss, your laundry is still unfolded!”

Hours later, hidden in the manor’s library, you were curled up with your phone, adding another chapter to your fic. “The mysterious stranger smirked, tugging at Batman’s utility belt…” You giggled, knowing full well you’d never delete it. Being the naughty, carefree Robin was too much fun—and the Batfamily, for all their grumbling, wouldn’t have you any other way.

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

bad idea, right? | f. odair

masterlist

summary: after receiving a late-night call from your ex-boyfriend, finnick odair, you can’t help but agree to meet with him. what happens when you mix a sound-proof train car and an ex you haven’t seen in months?

pairing: finnick odair x reader

warnings: rough-ish smut, a teensy bit of angry sex, swearing, unprotected sex (zon’t zo that), kinda ooc finnick, choking,

notes: based on 'bad idea, right?' by olivia rodrigo. i lost the person who sent the request so sorry this took so long to come out!! i don’t know if i like how this is written, but smut is smut so… enjoy :)

word count: 4.6k

Neon beams of light pulsed in time with the heavy bass blasting throughout your unnecessarily large home in the Victor’s Village. District Two. Masonry. Big houses.

Two shots of tequila and some other very unnatural concoctions were soaking deep into your brain. Everything was swaying—the room, the people, even you. Your small group of friends danced by your side, keeping together to avoid the creeps that might have entered your home. Although, to you, entertaining a stranger that night did not sound like such a terrible idea.

You felt lonely. Undeniably and pathetically lonely. The alcohol only enhanced your emotions and libido, leading you to search the room for anyone who interested you enough to take them upstairs. But there was no one, because in reality there was only one person you really wanted, and he was no longer yours. He hadn’t been for months.

Replacements had come and gone, but they never stuck. None of them made you feel the way he did.

“Excuse me!” an exasperated voice yelled. “Would you please get out of my way?!”

To your right, your housekeeper, bless her poor deafened soul, was pushing through a crowd of intoxicated partygoers and heading straight for you.

“Claudia!” you shouted over the music, tugging down your short black slip dress out of respect for her modesty.

The elderly woman stopped in front of you, her disapproval of the vibrant scene clear as day. You always paid her double in exchange for putting up with the chaos whenever you threw a house party, which was almost every weekend.

She hovered close to your ear. “There is someone on the phone for you!”

“Did you get a name?!”

After she shook her head, you escorted her through the thick crowd of dancers, into a quieter room and thanked her before beelining for the landline.

With a heavy sigh, you brought the corded phone to your ear and said, “Whoever this is, you better make it quick. I’m not nearly as intoxicated as I need to be and in dire need of another shot.”

Over the scratchy static, you could hear a quiet chuckle—a sound you had spent months trying to forget, along with the person attached to it. How many drinks did you have again? The alcohol must have messed with your mind because this could not be real.

“Hello to you too, sweetheart,” the caller said, his voice low and amused.

Everything you had longed to forget came rushing to the surface at an overwhelming pace. Wisps of hair the colour of a dying fire. Eyes resembling the sea. Arms that once acted as a life jacket. A dangerous mouth that had explored every inch of your body.

No. It couldn’t be—

“Finnick.”

********

Stupid. This was so fucking stupid. You were attempting to sneak out of your own party. A good old Irish Goodbye in your own house. With luck, you would make it out the front door without being caught by your friends, or worse, Claudia. Now that would be scary.

Water flushed through your system, a weak attempt you made at sobering yourself up because meeting up with your ex while drunk was a recipe for disaster. Then again, so was meeting up with your ex in the first place. Nothing will happen, you thought to yourself, we are just going to talk.

A thought even more unbelievable than thinking you would be able to be able to escape the watchful eyes of your friends.

Your high-heeled foot had just crossed the front door when someone called your name. “Damn,” you muttered, turning back around.

Valeria, your closest yet heavily intoxicated friend strutted over to you, her feet wobbling every few steps. “You sneaky little minx,” she slurred. “Someone said they saw you on the phone. It was him, wasn’t it? He asked you to go see him.”

“Just as friends. No, not even. As acquaintances.”

“Oh, my sweet, sweet silly friend.” She grabbed you by the shoulders. “We both know you aren’t that foolish.”

You looked away because you knew damn well that she was right.

“Look, I get it,” she continued. “Your hot, he’s hot.” You smiled. “You both have a history. I just want to make sure you know all the outcomes of what you're about to do. I’ll be here for you if things do get messy but expect a well-versed speech of me saying ‘I told you so’ afterwards.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Val,” you laughed, prying her hands off your shoulders. “I really do appreciate your concern, but I promise all we’re going to do is talk.”

“Alright, but if things go south, call me. Immediately!” she called a little too loudly as you took subtle steps away from the front door and onto the street. “Have fun with your innocent little ‘talk’!”

“Thanks, mum!”

You waved goodbye as you walked down the street, body buzzing with exhilaration and apprehension. Finnick had told you his train stopped in the district’s station for the night. He and his new victor were travelling throughout Panem for the Victory Tour and were currently in District Two. You didn’t know much about his tribute, only that they were a she. The thought of Finnick spending all his time with another girl had that green-eyed monster inside you writhing.

Enough to make you agree to meet with him after midnight while moderately drunk and slightly horny. What a fantastic plan.

District Two’s train station was a short distance from the Victor’s Village, but it was long enough to cause you to remove your heels. You finally reached the train, barefoot and with the wind softly blowing your hair. Finnick had specified a particular door to knock on so as not to alert the peacekeepers residing within the train. So, you knocked. And then you waited.

Your heart was pounding; your hands were trembling. Not long after, a dark figure appeared behind the door’s tinted window. With a click, the door opened and revealed a shirtless smirking Finnick Odair.

Oh, fuck me.

He was even more gorgeous than the last time you saw him. His crossed arms bulged with thick muscles as he leaned against the doorframe, gaze shamelessly roaming over your scarcely dressed appearance before settling on your face. The amusement in his expression was ever-present and ever-growing.

“Finnick,” you greeted.

“Y/N.”

He extended his hand, inviting you inside the train and hesitantly, you accepted. Sparks of electricity travelled up your arm, starting from where his and your hand connected. Some things never changed.

Empty silence welcomed your presence as you entered the train car. Patterned silver vases of white roses were placed atop every available surface. Meticulously crafted chandeliers lit up the room with a golden haze. To your left was an arrangement of black leather couches surrounding a small silver table; further down the car was a rectangular mahogany dining table decorated with fruit and unlit candles.

Somehow a single train car was more luxurious than your entire house.

“Is every one asleep?” you asked, running your fingertips along the pure gold that lined the couches.

“Yeah,” he said, eyes following your movements. “Every room on this train is sound-proof, so...”

You nodded, unsure of how else to reply. Conversations usually ran smoothly between you and Finnick. They were effortless. But that was when you were together. Four months must have passed now since you last spoke.

“Are you and what’s-his-name still together?” he asked.

“No,” you said bluntly. “I broke up with him last month.”

“My sincerest condolences.” His sympathetic tone was as transparent as glass. Sarcasm always was his favourite pastime. “Guess he just couldn’t satisfy your needs.”

Turning around to face him, you leaned against the couch’s arm, jaw clenched and eyes glowering with agitation. “Is there any specific reason why you called me here?”

He raised a glass of rich amber liquid to his lips. “Can’t two old friends just reconnect?”

“Old friends,” you scoffed. “That’s what you call it. From what I remember, the last time we saw each other, we were having goodbye sex in your bed. And in the kitchen and the lounge and on the balcony.”

Something sincere overshadowed his teasing nature, revealing itself in the tension in his facial muscles and the glassy haze that clouded his eyes. Reminiscence. “It didn’t have to be goodbye,” he spoke softly whilst holding your gaze.

You blinked. There was a short pause and only the quiet hum of the lights sounded in the room. You were the one to end the relationship, not the other way around much to your friends’ disbelief. Over and over, you had been asked the same question: why on earth would you break up with Finnick Odair?

Well, behind closed doors, he was incredible. He was loving, affectionate, and thoughtful. He would collect seashells for you that he found on the beach whenever he went fishing, leave hand-written poetry and heartfelt love letters whenever he left for the Capitol, and mother of fucking Christ was the sex just downright extraordinary.

But as previously stated, it was all behind closed doors.

Finnick never wanted to be seen together in public and on the off chance you were, he would practically neglect your existence. Only your most trusted friends and Finnick’s family knew about your relationship. No one else. Eventually, the secretiveness created a deep void inside you that not even the sweetest love letters and seashells could fill. You couldn’t remain with someone who seemed ashamed to be with you in public.

So, with a heavy heart, you said goodbye.

In fear of becoming too emotional, you disregarded his weighted words and crossed your arms. “So,” you began, “how’s the Tour been so far? You must be pretty ecstatic one of your tributes actually won.”

He bounced back fairly quickly. “I suppose it’s always nice to watch someone you trained live for a change,” he said, placing his drink on a nearby table. “Plus, she’s got a lot of charisma. A natural with the speeches and interviews, so I don’t need to do too much coaching.”

And there it was again—that green-eyed monster. “Charisma, huh?” You just couldn’t help yourself. “Is she pretty too?”

Finnick tilted his head, visibly surprised by your blatant jealousy. “She just turned sixteen,” he stated with a small smirk tugging at his lips. Well, no one told you that bit of information. Awkward. “Careful, Y/N. You sounded a little jealous there.”

You pushed off the chair, heading back toward the door you entered through. Maybe this was a bad idea. “Alright, I’m leaving now.”

Just as you turned the handle, a set of rushed footsteps thudded behind you. The door opened a mere crack, sending in a cold draft that caused your body to shudder.

“Wait, just—” A swift hand came over your shoulder and pushed the door shut, eliciting a startled gasp from your lips. You could feel Finnick towering over you, the warmth of his skin spreading onto your cold back and his breaths fanning down against the bareness of your shoulder. He was so close. “I just needed to see you before I leave tomorrow morning.”

Slowly, you turned around, coming face-to-face with the man you shouldn’t have loved. His burning gaze was a stark contrast to the icy metal door your back was pressed against. Tension pulsated in the small space between you and him. The intense attraction that had first brought you two together came rushing forth; trying to fight such a magnetic force was impossible. You needed connection—touch.

This night would not end with just a simple innocent chat, you knew that now.

You swallowed hard, your heart racing. “You needed to see me?” you asked. “Finnick, if you want me to stay, don’t beat around the bush. Tell me what you really want.”

Silence. He continued staring at you and you could see a scheme forming behind his mesmerising green eyes. Then the scheme was unfolding. He leaned down to your level, to your lips, his half-lidded eyes never leaving your mouth as he just barely allowed his lips to brush yours. On instinct, you tilted your head upwards.

“I want you,” he whispered.

You didn’t waste a second to respond. “Then take me.”

He was quicker than a bullet train. Finnick’s lips caught your own and were burning with fiery desire, evident in his haste to wrap you up in his arms and practically merge your body with his. Flames licked just beneath your skin, setting your nerves alight with passion and lust. You burned together in an inferno fuelled by each other’s touch.

Logically, this was wrong. Finnick was your ex-boyfriend and for good reason. But as your hands clung to every inch of him that they possibly could, as his tongue and yours danced fluidly with one another, and as your body buzzed with pure adrenaline, you were willing to abandon all your morals in exchange for five more minutes in his embrace.

A moan travelled from your mouth to his own as you felt him bite your lower lip. You could already feel that familiar throbbing sensation between your thighs and the wetness that exposed how much you craved him. You knew he felt the same. His sweatpants left little to the imagination.

Your hand slipped between your connected bodies, travelling down Finnick’s firm stomach, gliding over his small trail of hair and finally into his pants. Your fingers curled around his cock which already leaked with precum. He was just as desperate as you.

“Fuck,” he groaned, the sound sending tingles down your spine.

You left his lips to press a wet kiss to his neck. “I wonder how many times you pretended your hand was my own,” you purred, leaving another kiss on his clavicle. “How many times you tried to recreate the warmth you only feel when you're inside me.”

His mouth hung open, letting out quiet uneven breaths as you stroked his length, your pace so quick that he already felt an overwhelming urge to release into your soft unrelenting hand. The sound of your voice, so sexy and lustful, combined with your swift pressured movements had his stomach tensing and contracting with a devastating build-up of pleasure.

“Too many times,” he admitted in a strained voice.

You sucked on the warm pulsing skin of his neck, this time receiving a groan that buzzed on your lips. His hands grabbed at your hips for support, roughly kneading the softness and satin in his large palms.

“This dress—fuck!” his voice broke as another hand slipped into his pants, cupping his balls as the other twisted with each stroke of his cock. “Sweetheart,” he chuckled breathlessly. “You look like a fucking siren.”

Your soft lips pecked at his toned chest before pulling away and looking up at him through your lashes. Euphoric delirium was prominent in his eyes. “You should’ve seen everyone staring at my party,” you said. “I wish you saw how badly the men wanted to fuck me right there on the dancefloor; how they undressed me with their eyes. Maybe then you would understand the mistake you made by never showing me off.”

Aggravation blazed in his aroused eyes which only made you so much hornier. Before you could pump another stroke, Finnick had ripped your hands from his pants and spun you around, pinning your body against the wall with his own, his hard cock pushing against the plush of your ass.

“I do understand,” he growled into your ear.

He abruptly started sucking hard kisses onto the side of your neck which had you gasping for air and tilting your head to allow him further access. One of his hands cupped your breast, massaging it with rough fingers and pinching your peaked nipples between his fingertips. His other hand travelled around your hip, wandering beneath your revealing dress and slipping into your lace panties.

You cried out when two fingers plunged into your soaking hole without warning.

“Know what I wish?” he asked, fingers curling in and out of you at such a rapid pace that the wet noises could be heard throughout the entire room. Blissful tears threatened to spill down your face. “I wish those guys could see how you looked right now with my fingers fucking you.” The hand on your breast moved to your throat, applying enough pressure on your carotid to make your head pound with dizziness. “I wish they knew you only enjoy being fucked by me.”

Your walls squeezed around his fingers, pulling him even further inside. Your untouched breasts were squashed against the train door and the fabric of your dress rubbed against your sensitive nipples. Finnick’s cock twitched against you and his hand was constricting the blood flow to your head. Yeah. Nobody else could make you feel better than this.

Finnick plunged his fingers inside again with a hard thrust which forced a broken moan from your lips. “Isn’t that right?”

The heel of his palm dug into your clit and your entire body was overcome with pins and needles; your knees buckled and hit the metal door. That would definitely bruise. You hoped it would—you wanted a reminder of this night.

“Yes!” you gasped. “Finnick, only you. Only you.”

“That’s right.”

Your moans started to rise in pitch, signalling the orgasm which was rapidly closing in. But right before you could come, Finnick’s fingers slipped out of you and out of your now-drenched panties. Your orgasm began to fade due to the lack of friction until it disappeared completely, leaving you feeling frustrated and neglected.

Turning back around with a flushed face, you witnessed Finnick sucking your juices off his fingers with a pop. His grin was conniving, self-satisfied with his actions which proved how desperately you wanted him to fuck you. That smug bastard. You would give anything to wipe the amusement off his beautiful fucking face.

And, well, you did.

“Fuck you!” you exclaimed, shoving him backwards.

“Fuck me?” He raised an eyebrow, smirk twitching at his lips. “I already know you want to.”

With a frustrated cry, you shoved him again, but this time he caught you in his arms and fervidly crushed his lips to yours. You squirmed and writhed and resisted but eventually melted into his embrace when you remembered you wanted this. You wanted this so badly.

Your arms wrapped around his neck as both your bodies continuously curved into one another, neither of you being able to remain still for more than a few seconds. The taste of brandy and you were on Finnick’s tongue as it swirled around your mouth; the flavours, which were polar opposites, sweet and savoury, mixed together to create something utterly carnal.

With the knowledge that this was probably a one-time thing, your kisses became bruising and frantic. Finnick alternated between kissing your lips, your neck, your jaw, and any place he could possibly reach. You hung onto every sound he made, every hot breath he took.

The two of you stumbled around the train car, lips never leaving one another, hands grabbing at every inch of flesh they could reach. You bumped into walls and multiple glass ornaments and laughed together when Finnick just barely caught one before it shattered on the floor.

Eventually, you ended up down the opposite end of the train car. Your back hit something hard and you gasped in surprise. The dining table. Finnick gave a quick glance at the table before pressing another kiss to your lips, this time a little more tenderly.

“Turn around,” he said, and you did.

You immediately felt him press himself against your behind. You stared ahead, chest heaving and swollen lips tingling, waiting for any more commands. His hand walked around your thigh, over the mound of your pussy, and then grazed up your stomach. He left a trail of warm tingles between your breasts before continuing upward to move your hair from your shoulder where he placed another warm gentle kiss.

Finally, he splayed his hand flat between your shoulder blades and pushed, bending you over the table until your torso lay flat on the cold wooden surface. Finnick hiked your dress up to your hips and crouched down, caressing your outer thighs before sliding your panties down to your ankles.

The air hit your bare skin and you exhaled a shaky breath as you anticipated his next movements. As he rose to his feet, he trailed kisses up your leg, ending with a soft bite to your ass which earned him a small giggle.

You could hear him tug down his sweatpants which hit the floor with a muffled thud. Your breaths continued to shake with nerves, coming out in soft pants. Finnick held onto your hip with one hand and held himself in the other. No words were spoken. Both of you wanted this—needed this.

Next thing you knew, your panting breaths had stopped altogether. Finnick’s cock had slid between your folds, filling you up in one single movement, and you both released a relieved moan in sync. Your hands pressed against the tabletop as your body began to rock with his thrusts. You weren’t going to make love or whisper sweet nothings into each other’s ears. No. This was pure unadulterated fucking.

Finnick started off fast; neither of you had the patience for a slow build-up. You didn’t even bother caring about the fact that he wasn’t wearing a condom. His hand had lowered to your mid back and the other gripped your hip as your warmth swallowed him over and over.

“Oh god,” you gasped.

The sensations that overtook your body were eagerly welcomed. You had tried to replicate the sex Finnick gave with other men after your relationship ended, but none seemed to compare even the slightest. You weren’t sure how a single human being could provide the sensations of nirvana, how one could master the skills of bringing another person to such an incredible high, but Finnick could. He always could.

It was only at this point that you realised how badly your body had been in withdrawal from his touch. The feeling of him inside you was like a drug. Addicting. Definitely not healthy.

You had tried fingering yourself to replicate his cock, but it was a pathetic attempt. Finnick could hit a deep spot inside you that no one else could like it was some secret forbidden location that only he held the key to. He made your body feel full. Stuffed. Complete. In a way that made you feel like you were going to burst into an explosion of white heavenly light.

Your nails scratched at the wood as he continued to pound into you, cock gliding against the ripples of your inner walls. There wasn’t a single inch of space left inside you. He fit like your pussy was where he belonged.

“Always feel so fucking good,” he muttered between thrusts.

His pleasure was always vocal, voiced with heavy breaths, grunts, and groans. Sometimes he even whimpered, especially when you edged him. He didn’t mind you being more dominant at times, but right now was not one of those moments. Being bent over and fucked into a table was not in any way, shape, or form you being dominant. This was Finnick being in control and it felt incredible.

“Finnick,” you said. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop!”

In response he grabbed your other hip and pulled you back into him, burying himself even deeper inside you with each thrust which had you crying out his name again. He hunched over your body, hips still pounding behind you, and sucked harsh kisses on your shoulder. He left behind red and deep purple marks on your shoulder, moving to your neck, and then grazed your earlobe with his teeth.

He returned a hand to your throat, forcing the both of you into a standing position. His fingers squeezed, reducing the blood flow into your brain which enhanced the explosion building up inside you.

“Harder!” you cried.

Both his cock and his hand increased their vigour. Stars were sparkling in your vision. You were almost completely sober now, yet you felt entirely drunk. Drunk on Finnick. He reached his free hand between your legs and your body fell back into his, only remaining upright from his support.

His fingers rubbed side-to-side on your clit, so hard and fast that his hand almost blurred in motion. Your moans rose an octave as your stomach began to tighten. A fire burned within your muscles, so pleasurably excruciating that you thought they would liquefy inside you. Your pussy clenched around Finnick’s cock, walls fluttering with each of his pounding thrusts.

“Come, sweetheart,” he purred into your ear. You could hear how much he struggled to contain his moans as he talked. “Come on, I know you're close. I can feel you.”

You nodded mindlessly and curled your arm backwards around his neck, in need of something to cling to. As the feeling inside your stomach intensified, your eyes squeezed shut and your hold around his neck tightened until you were almost choking him. With every ounce of strength that he had inside him, Finnick increased his pace until he fit multiple mind-destroying thrusts into each second that passed.

He was almost animalistic with his pounding and unrestrained groans of pleasure. And you were so close, so, so close to falling over the edge. His hand was constricted around your throat; the other assaulted your clit, and his cock was mercilessly hitting that swollen spot inside you. Any second and—

“I’m go—I’m gonna come!”

A potent cocktail of pleasure, ecstasy, and release washed through your body, unravelling the tension inside your stomach and exiting through your stuffed hole. Your juices coated Finnick’s cock with warmth as you repeated his name over and over.

You could feel him twitching inside you, spilling himself onto your clenching walls whilst bending you over to senselessly fuck you into the table. His moans were so loud, so fucking attractive, but may God have mercy on both of you if the room wasn’t actually soundproof.

Neither of you could stop. You came an immeasurable number of times; your hands left marks on Finnick’s body as he did on yours, and every surface in the room had been tainted with your sin. You clung onto one another, desperately prolonging your night together that would most likely be the last. Ever.

*********

“Don’t leave again.”

Your fingers stilled as you strapped on your high heels. You glanced up at Finnick—who now had his sweatpants back on—from the gold-lined leather chair you sat in.

“Finnick…” you sighed.

“Please,” he said. Crouching down in front of you, he gently took your hand into his own. His face, which previously reflected nothing but pleasure, now looked at you with pained desperation. “I’ll explain everything to you. Why I was always in the Capitol. Why it was too dangerous for us to be seen together in public. All of it.”

The mention of danger took you aback. You had thought he never wanted to be seen together because he was embarrassed, not because it was… dangerous. Brows furrowed together, your eyes flickered between his, searching for any hint of deception, anything that might reveal malicious intentions. But when had Finnick ever been malicious towards you? Never. All you found in his eyes was sincerity.

“I can’t lose you again,” he whispered, lowering his head.

After a few seconds of contemplation, you realised there wasn’t a chance in hell you were going to walk out on him again. Life would mean nothing without Finnick beside you.

Your fingers sat under his chin, lifting his head to meet your gaze. The two of you exchanged a look of vulnerability, signifying an era of newfound understanding and reconnection.

You whispered in response. “You’ve got me, Finn.” 

tags: @tayrae515

[thebluediner]

Reader is tipsy/on the verge of drunk and sings r&b love songs to Billie. Billie being blushy and giggly while falling more in love with reader

a/n: oh my gosh YESSSSSSSS I hope you enjoy it

TIPSY AND IN LOVE WITH YOU

you and billie were invited to a friend's party celebrating their latest achievement in their career. as the loving friends you were you both attended, bringing gifts along with some congratulatory words for them.

you and billie stuck together for the first couple of minutes kind of feeling the vibe of the party first. one of her arms was wrapped around your waist pulling you closer to her. gosh you loved when she did that. you loved being close to her in general so it helped that your love languages were physical language. your eyes would wander to her face mindlessly starring with a smile on your face and when she would catch it she'd start blushing and hidding herself on the nape of your neck. gosh she was so cute.

when the party was packed and in full blast you both separated willingly finding your friend groups . as much as you were each other's best friends you weren't in the same group and that was okay because you need to have your own space outside of each other ,though you wouldn't mind having just her.

there was people in the middle of the room dancing to throwback pop and rnb songs the dj set out for you. nobody even batted an eye to the fact your friend brought over an actual dj over to his house but just enjoyed it as best as they could.

your friends had a couple rounds of drinks way before you joined them so about the time you came in you had to catch up, and to catch up you absolutely did. in a span of ten minutes you had already five shots in your system.

you aren't a light weight so all they did was get you slightly drunk, tipsy at best. you danced around your friends like you were still in college and screamed at every song that came up because they hitted you with an extreme case of nostalgia.

another scream escaped your mouth when your song came on. your eyes went wide searching for billie around the room and when you finally caught them hers were already on you ,like she knew how'd you would react to it.

she was sitting down her knees up to her chest leaning on the wall with her friends besides her but her attention was on you. you mouthed how she should come over to dance with you but with a shy smile she shook her head declining. she should've known better though you never took no as an answer especially when it came to jamming at parties.

you tried to walk towards her as best as you could because your walk showed you were on the verge of being drunk. billie watched you come closer and closer her heart beating faster the closer you got because to be honest she couldn't believe you were real, you were so hot. then again ,she did take an edible from her friend minutes ago so justifiably you appeared more enticing to her than ever.

when you reached her you bent down to her eye level meeting her with a pout , a manipulative pout. your hand reached out not even asking because you weren't giving her an option you wanted her with you.

"baby please" you whined when she hesitated and that was all it took for her to stand up. she took your hand looking down at the feel of your warm palms smilling to herself.

"ahhh! I fucking love you " you said in excitement before your hands intertwined pulling her through the crowd. when you turned to look at her the spark you both felt was there and it was electric .suddenly the mood shifted when you could finally enjoy the song with billie. you gave her a mischievous look paired with a smirk and billie swore she has never been this inlove with someone.

" baby you're tipsy " billie tries to tell you this like she wasn't also under the influence but the words flew over your head. all you could focus on was singing the lyrics of the song pointing over at her. you eyes focused on her with you hips swaying like you were performing for her regardless of the people in the room. you were all about her in that moment and she loved it

billie felt like she was being serenaded but in a goofy and sexy way .your hands wrapped around her shoulders leaning on her body grinding on her while she struggled with her face being stained with a pink blush.

you were chaotic , silly and so adorable with the words you sang out loud emphasising them to her. you arms would grab her own hands and guide to them to your waist letting her know you wanted to fell her on you.

god billie knew you were tipsy but you were so sexy and adorable right now she couldn't say anything but try and contain her little giggles at your actions.

to her you weren't just drunk singing the words, you meant them. the song expressed the love you have for your partner along with the gratitude you feel towards them for what they add to your life and so she listened no matter how messy the came out she was just happy they were for her. her blue eyes raked over figure watching you with a foolish grin.

you sang the words with your chest while you were glued to billie while she kept you close like she wanted to figure a way to get you inside her skin that very moment.

she appreciated these silly moments. the type of moments where she'd be able to tell them on your wedding and to your kids. you were in your own bubble and didn't notice the people around you but unfortunately they noticed the both of y'all and they were cheesing hard. you couldn't blame them, they were basically witnessing the spark they helped ignite come alive because technically they were the ones that brought y'all together.

when the song ended you pulled away slightly looking in her eyes and god were they tinted red and that made you giggle a little bit. billie's who was genuinely in a daze over your beauty was looking at your lips glossed lips with no shame. you somehow mirrored her actions and leaned in capturing her lips in a kiss with no hesitation. your hands rested on the back of her neck pulling her closer wanting the kiss to last forever because the way her lips felt was so heavenly you didn't understand the science behind it but you sure did like it a lot.

"I love so much more than you realise princess " billie muttered once the kiss ended and was faced with your darkish brown eyes maling you grin.

"Ofcourse I realise baby I love you till the fucking black thing out there "you said challenging her before planting a kiss on her pink lips again.

"And now I'm reminded how drunk you are" she huffs after you steal another kiss smilling like a damn fool.

"I'm not drunk, I'm not! I'm tipsy at best " you defended yourself before pulling her in a hug again.

"And you're high " you mutter seconds later making her laugh under your embrace feeling her body shake in her expression of joy.

[itsbenedict]

That's Right: It's Another Hot Take About That Dead Healthcare CEO

The websites are abuzz with debate on the utilitarian calculus of whether some guy getting shot was a good thing. What are the odds that the assassination will scare the horrible greedy health insurance companies into changing their ways and fixing the system? Is it worth killing someone over? Will the fear of being blasted by some guy with stylishly-engraved bullets put the fat cats in line? Or will their greed win out over their fear, leaving the nightmarish system unchanged?

Well, what if that was totally irrelevant?

You may have seen a graph that looks like this:

I've seen a few of these going around. These are the rates at which various health insurance companies say "no, you don't get the money" when someone says "hey I need money for this medical thing". UHC, the one whose CEO got shot, is notably really bad in this respect. They've got algorithmic claims denials and all kinds of nasty things that people don't like. All that money they're saving on paying out on claims must be making them rich, right? Let's look at their own financial reports:

Whoa! Big numbers! Six percent looks like a small number, but multiply and they make like thirty billion dollars doing this! That's a lot, right?

Well hang on. They're an insurance company. We can roughly model their profit as the amount people pay them for insurance, minus the amount they have to pay out for claims. Let's look at 2023: simple subtraction, their expenses are $339.2 billion. We simplify other overhead and assume that's all claims. So... that represents those 67% of claims they don't reject. What happens if they approve all the claims?

Multiply: $506.3 billion. They don't have that kind of money. They have $371.6 billion in revenue. So okay- they have to deny some claims. That's pretty normal. But let's pretend they're extremely afraid of assassins now and want to be completely non-greedy: they're okay making zero profit. They make $32.4 billion in profit- how many otherwise-rejected claims can they now afford to approve?

...uh. Well, they can afford to pay out, at most, 73.4% of claims. Still a denial rate of 26.6%, higher than most of their competitors. Not a huge improvement. And in reality, they can't afford to make 0 profit- a company that's making 0 profit is a company investors pull out of immediately, leaving it to collapse, because they can make more money investing in the ones that aren't as afraid of assassins. They've got to at least hover around the same profit margin as their competitors. Which is...

That's average profit margins for the whole US healthcare industry. So, okay, if we match those other companies' profit margins and try to hover around 3-4%... uh. Wait. Hang on. Here's another graph with more recent data on UHC specifically:

Wait, they're still just making that little 3-4% profit margin, even with all these shady automated denials- so how are those other companies doing better on claims? They're obviously not less greedy. They must be making more money somehow, right?

(My guess, sight-unseen, would be that they charge more for their plans, or offer less comprehensive coverage, or use a network of less expensive providers, or other things that make the amount they have to pay out smaller and the amount they're taking in larger. I don't feel like doing a comprehensive consumer review of what every insurance provider's healthcare plans are, but there's always these tradeoffs to make. UHC seems to be offering the tradeoff of "better or cheaper care, on paper" for "but there's a higher risk of getting denied", which is one annoying tradeoff among many.)

Okay But That's Enough Graphs

"Yeah yeah yeah shut up about profit margins and coverage tradeoffs. Is it a good thing that the CEO got shot or not?"

Well, their profit margin at the time he was shot was 3.63%. A company can't survive making 0 or less, so whatever effect fear of assassination has on UHC's greediness, it is going to be no larger than 3.63%.

They may learn the lesson that having their denial rates too high will get them assassinated. Accordingly, they may decrease that metric- by charging higher premiums, kicking expensive doctors out of their network, or reducing their stated coverage. They will not (because they cannot, without ceasing to exist as a company) simply start approving more claims without squeezing their customers elsewhere. They legally cannot do that. No matter how afraid you make the CEOs, you cannot make them afraid to a degree larger than their profit margin.

Well What The Fuck, Then

Like, what, are we supposed to accept that things will literally never get better and that this horrorshow is the best we can hope for? That's some bullshit! If we can't scare the CEOs, who can we scare?

Man I dunno.

Like, for some reason healthcare is stupid expensive! People can't afford to pay for healthcare without insurance- it's like thousands of dollars for basic procedures! Why? Maybe...

Doctors inflate their prices 10x because they know insurance companies will use complicated legal tricks to only pay 10% of the asking price, and this is a constantly escalating price war that serves mainly to fuck over the uninsured

Drug manufacturers and health technology companies fight tooth and nail to maintain monopolies over treatment, so they can charge gazillions to make back the gazillions they had to spend on FDA approval trials

(Trials those same companies lobby to keep necessary because the more money you have to pay for FDA approval, the harder it is for competitors to enter the market since they don't already have the gazillions)

Doctors operate as a cartel and lobby to gatekeep access to medical training so that they can keep doctoring a prestigious and exclusive position, and keep their own salaries high enough to pay their medical school debt and make them rich afterwards- leading to a (profitable) shortage of medical professionals

There is no limit to how expensive things can get but how much people are physically capable of paying, because frequently the alternative to "pay a ridiculous amount for healthcare" is "die", and so healthcare is subject to near-infinitely inelastic demand

Also like a thousand other equally annoying and complicated perverse incentives and stupid situations

This is the human condition: Shit is annoying and complicated and difficult to fix, pretty much 100% of the time forever. A few bullets in some fucko's back isn't really going to make a dent.

(But like, sure, fuck that guy. He probably sucked, as do the hundred other identical suits in line to replace him. Just... don't expect this to help.)

[grimdarling69]

Another deaged Dan and Ellie or otherwise known as Crack pt 6

Pt1. Pt2. Pt3. Pt4. Pt5.

Kon could immediately tell something was wrong with the kryptonite weapons firing at them. Another green blur shot at himnand he spun in the air over it. A move to evade the blast and check on his family.

The kryptonite guns had just enough kryptonite for it to be dangerous only if the blast hit them. They'd immediately go down. Another blast entered his field of vision, and he swerved to the side. He tried to use his supervision but was only met with lead. They couldn't get closer because of the guns, and he could see Jon get angrier his eyes glowed red in warning of his laser, and Kon flew up to evade him.

"Superboy! Don't use them it could deflect -" his father spoke from his higher position quite a few paces away from them, but Jon ignored him.

The vision hit the gun, and the metal melted into orange, red, and green mess. Like an ugly Christmas tree. Weird. Usually, Luthor would have more security than this. Something is officially wrong.

The batjet he'd been keeping an ear out for since he left finally arrived just as Jon melted another one. The jet swerved the blasts even though he doubted it could even hurt them at this point. The jet shot st a few of the blaster and destroyed them an even more explosive mess. Kon used his own vision, his glasses held in place below the lasers on his face with his hand. Another gun exploded, and his father finally got the hint and exploded several of his own.

The jet careened around them and expertly angled between the already destroyed guns and landed onto the beach. He continued exploding the guns but kept an ear out for the bats on the beach. The ones closest to him were mostly destroyed, so he joined his father in his sector while Jon landed on the beach.

Good luck.

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

Jason was not having a good time at all. Not to say he expected to have a great time rescuing his little brother, but he was hoping to try to get some of the bubbling green rage under control by demolishing some robots. He may possibly not have the best guns for demolishing these robots, he was handling it of course, he was a bat after all, he'd be an even worse disappointment if he couldn't handle some glowing green robots that remind him heavily of thing he'd prefer to leave in the past. He risked a glance toward Dick and could see him take down several robots in an expert acrobatic movement that sent him soaring off each of their head and switching between crushing or electrocuting them with his escrima sticks. Show off.

One of the robots he was fighting suddenly crackled and burned a smoking trail into the sky before exploding and sent himself and several other robots crashing into the walls and each other. It must have been faulty wiring. He knew he didn't touch that one, Babs was still mostly blocked out, and none of his siblings were running to patronize him for getting hurt. If he didn't know better, he'd say the robots were cheaply made, but that's never been Lex Luthors style.

"Red Hood. Help Red Robin turn the robots off in the central monitor room. We need to manually plug Oracles systems into the computers here." Right. Thank you, Bruce, for always being there at the worst possible times. He groaned and attempted to shake the tweeting birds away from his head.

"On it, Batman." He couldn't bring himself to use any stupid nicknames right now. He cataloged all the other bats just in case. Goldie was still the same show off. Red Robin had knocked out his robots and joined him for destroying his wave. Spoiler and Signal were in the rafters doing... something with his powers and reflective baterangs. He wasn't touching that with a fifty foot pole no way. They had a tendency to make things explode with those things. Orphan and Batman were still outside the burning hole in the wall they blasted to get through, so he couldn't find them, but they were probably kicking ads anyway. Suddenly, Tim launched himself backward through the air using his staff and landed behind him, hunkering down and messing with his wristcomputer. That assshole definitely planted explosives. He quickly got one last hit on the current robot and used it to launch himself past his head. Just as he landed, several small bombs exploded on the robots and collided with each other, creating more explosions.

"Time to go Hood."

"Lead on, Replacement."

----------

Why does Superman always disrupt my plans? Not just Superman, he reminds himself, he'd brought their son and his brother. As well as Daniel's family or Damian, whatever. The bats were the worst destroying his robots and his walls. Okay, maybe he didn't have the best robots here because they might be missing quite a few parts and kryptonite. But he needed for the portal, and both Vlad Masters and Lex Luthor were anything but resourceful.

The monitor beeped erratically. Gods above if Damian was going to flatline again. He technically wasn't flatlining but pumping ectoplasm through his heart instead of blood at that moment, and that messed with moniters, and when that happens, nurses get all hysterical and almost actually flatline him.

It wouldn't be such a problem if Damian wasn't severely lacking ectoplasm. Typically, his blood was made of both of it. All that rest from the medicine induced coma that he put him in certainly helped him fight the corruption and was now creating his own. See, if only Damian listened to him more often. It'd be better for everyone.

The moniter died down again, and he sighed and ran a hand down his face.

"Whatever am I going to with you?" He muttered with his head leaning back.

"Maybe stop beating me up." He shot up toward the voice. He wasn't supposed to be awake yet, but this was better anyway. He had to get him into the portal before the bats destroyed all the robots. Another litte voice in his brain betrayed him and reminded him the portal was still not done, and they were closing in.

"Little Badger, you know I don't start fights. I end them." He reprimanded.

"And you know I hate that nickname, and we both know you start fights all the damn time."

"Language." Damian stared unimpressed at him. How was he meant to explain this? The supers and bats somehow discovered where we are and are fighting their way in and are currently tearing the main control room apart? Actually, that isn't that bad.

He told Damian just that, and somehow, he didn't seem to like his paraphrasing. Can't please anyone anymore.

"What do you mean my family is here? How could they track us? This isle is supposed to be superproof."

"I don't know, but I don't have some ideas. I believe Susan has betrayed our trust and ratted us out. I will unfortunately have to fire her, and I was just beginning to like her." He sighed. All the best employees turn out to be useless and disloyal. That's why he prefers A.I. Until it started to betray him, too. Ugh. Never get good help anywhere nowadays.

"Vlad! Focus! I need to get to the portal right now!" He winced.

"Well, about that -" Damian shot up and stumbled on his legs from not moving for two weeks, probably. He reached to steady him.

"Don't touch me! Leave me alone." His godson growled and scampered past him. He left the medical area and quickly started studying his current readings and calculations.

" I've already checked hundreds of times. I can't find out what's wrong with it." He tried to explain but was forced to watch, and Damian grabbed a random red pen and started scribbling all over his things. He sighed again. Teenagers.

"I've got it!" Oh you've got to be kidding me!

"You're trying to create your fancy portal. We don't have the time or materials for that, but we can recreate The Fenton Portal. Most of the ectoplasm is soda anyway. I stashed some in the fridge around here since you banned me from drinking it while we were working." He explained already halfway across the lab and opening a fridge labeled 'chemicals only'. Why does he even try anymore?

More alerts were popping up. Most of his robots were down now and the last remaining ones were the brainless ones not connected to the central computer that luckily he didn't have connected to some of his tech just in case, including this lab. Which now meant he would need to take control of the robots himself. Unless he wanted them to be defeated in less than a minute. Luckily again, most of the kryptonite he had that he hadn't rerouted into the portal was inside those portals.

"I'm going to attack your family now." He announced, cracking his knuckles and hacking into his own robots easily.

"Don't kill them, or I'd have to kill you." He replied, ripping and welding parts together. He's pretty sure he just watched him weld something together with 7up. Nope. Not today.

-----------

Jon was feeling...off. He, for some strange reason, felt an urge to let himself be hit by the kryptonite. Not in a suicidal way, but in a way, he instinctively wanted to be...with the kryptonite. Something that is incredibly dangerous to kryptonians like him even if he's only half.

For a while, he dodged guns, destroyed guns, destroyed robots, and then the Reds destroyed the main computer, and most of the robots deactivated until... the robots suddenly started to get stronger and smarter.

TV moniters suddenly flickered on and Lex Luthor was displayed.

"Luthor! Return Damian Wayne now to uss and we will consider lessening your sentence." His father spoke loudly, assuming mics were around somewhere.

"Oh really? You've never been able to get those charges to stick before. What make you think they'll suddenly stick now?" He mocked cruelly.

"You won't get away with this, this time, Luthor." Batman threatened.

"Coming from the man who can even get a failed circus clown to stay in prison? I think I'll be fine."

"Luthor, I know that something is going on. If you tell us we can help you." Nightwing spoke masterfully, emphasizing the man who stole his little brother. He didn't trust he wouldn't stare screaming and yelling at the crazy fruitloop if he tried to say anything. Wait-fruitloop? Where did that come from? He shook his head to clear the thought, but he somehow made eye contact with the shadow he suspected to be Orphan. Who is somehow emitting a very concerned aura. He ignored that and focused on the conversation just in time to hear large explosions from the TV.

"Damian!" Nightwing yelled out. Superman glanced around wildly as if trying ti will himself into seeing or hearing through lead.

He was concerned... but he didn't feel as worried as he should be for his best friend. Like he was definitely worried but he had a gut feeling he would be fine. And a little exasperated for some reason.

"What the hell are you doing? Get back to work! If we don't get that portal open before they find us, I'm going to rearrange your organs upside down!" Luthor yelled behind him. He could feel his face heat up, and he covered his eyes just in case.

"Don't you dare threaten him!" Nightwing yelled at the screen. Batman was starting at his wrist screen as if it would disappear if he looked away. The shadow had slunked away sometime. Spoiler and Signal nowhere to be seen.

"What are you gong to do? Reach through the screen and throttle me?" He taunted.

The screen suddenly started to glitch out in green bursts. It reminded him of kryptonite but...

"I've found them. Follow these directions. I'm almost there myself." He overheard Signal from Batmans comms. He repeated them twice, but he had already grabbed Nightwing and saw his dad grab his own bat. They couldn't go as fast as he wanted to because of the tight spaces, making superspeed dangerous to the supports. If they went too fast, the building could go down on them. They went faster than they should have anyway.

They reached the door where Signal, Spoiler, and Orphan were trying to wrench the doors off the hinges using several blowtorches and a misshapen crowbar.

"I've got it." He set Nightwing on the ground and cleared the door off the hinges just to see a large explosion of green. And Lex Luthor shooting powered up kryptonite(?) from his hands.

He dodged the blasts but his father wasn't able to and was sent flying to the wall smoking.

"Dad!" He screamed his anger at him forgotten. He flew over him and he vaguely remembers a yellow blur following him.

There was a smoking crater on his chest. Burns of all degrees decorating his suit.

"Dad?" He collapsed to the floor infront of him.

"It's okay, Jon. It's not that... bad... it looks worse than is. I promise. Go...bakc to the...fight." his dad spoke, his voice cracking, and he knew his dad was completely powered down. He had to get him to the sun.

"I'm getting you out of here." He promised and gathered him into his arms carefully. He was about to laser several random walls down when Signal handed him the closest trajectory to the outside.

"Hurry. We can handle this." He lied. They couldn't handle a powered Luthor, and he's couldn't let his dad die. He nodded and turned his head away, and his eyes lit up in burning pools of red.

----------

The green was mesmerizing. The only word Cass could describe it. Like it was the only thing that could understand her. It reminded her of the Lazarus Pits.

She ran inside with Spoiler, Nightwing, and Batman close behind. Luthor tried to shoot at them, but they dodged skillfully. She looked past him and could see Damian typing madly on a computer. His movements were deliberate, and he knew what he was doing, but his body betrayed hum to her. His fingers were still, but his wrist twisted slightly too much. His ankles shifted weight between one another. His head tilted backward like he was physically stopping himself from looking at them.

"Damian!" Nightwing vaulted over a blast.

Damian froze for a second but willed himself to continue with new determination, painting his body. Something wasn't right. He should be running to them. Telling them he had a plan they ruined but would pause for enough time they knew he was struggling if they asked for it.

"Damian? We're here to save you!" Nightwing dodged another blast. She could see his plan. Distract both Damian and luthor. It was working, too. Luthor was occssionly shooting her, but he'd all but forgotten about Batman and Spoiler in the rafters.

Damian wasn't at all easily distracted she could tell from his headtilt he was watching them. He sped up the computer. The large portal machine expanded, and greens swirled around.

"Shut it down, Damian!" Nightwing shouted, attempting to rush luthor but failing. She launched herself using the distraction to take luthor out. He is somehow stronger than she can remember flung her off rough enough she hit the wall. She saw stars and failed to rise. Her vision was blurring, but she could see Batman's blurry figure attempting to subdue luthor and succeeding. Where's spoiler?

There she is! Spoiler kumped down on top of Luthor and put meta cuffs on him using the elemnt of suprise. Nightwing reached Damian just as the portal exploded, adding unfamiliar purples mixed in. Nightwing was thrown back, but he recovered and ran back. Batman and Luthor struggled in vain for control. She blinked, and Spoiler was a purple blur at her side.

Her body riddled with worry. She reached out and gently prodded her for injuries.

"Fine. Help little... brother." she tried to say, but it was mostly slurred from the blood loss. Spoiler glanced at her nervously and took out her field aid.

"No. Fine." She attempted to convey, but she just shushed her quietly. She turned back to the fight just in time to catch Damian slip through the portal. Nightwing didn't hesitate to run after him.

"No!" Her father's voice and anguished growled after watching two sons slip through. He tried to follow them, but Luthor got free and broke the computer powering. Just as Batman reached the edge, he hesitated, and the portal fizzled out.

She tried to stay awake but the gentle shushing from Spoiler lulled her into the embrace of darkness.

---------

Dick Grayson hit the strange glowing bluish snow and rolled to a soft stop. He looked around frantically and spotted Damian kneeling on the ground. He had his arms wrapped around himself, and his face was screwed up in pain.

"Damian!" He ran to him and kneeled by his side, hesitating to grab his son if he was injured but wanting to scoop him up after being missing for two months now.

"You shouldn't be here." He murmured but he leaned against him heavily.

"I've been looking for you everywhere. We almost thought you were dead." He gave up looking for physical injuries apart from the maybe a mix between 1st and 2nd degree burns and clutched his son to his chest.

"It's not...safe for you...here."

"And it is for you?" He gathered him in his arms best he could, minding the burns on him. Neither of them were wearing clothes meant for the storm.

The strange snow was colder than any snow he's ever seen before, and it had an otherworldly component to it. Another point for the interdimensinal portal. Behind then sharp hissing screeched behind them and the greens snd purples disappeared. Shit. That was their way out.

"Who goes there?" A large voice echoed from the trees and he cursed himself for not studying his surrounding more. A large...yeti? Emerged from the pine trees he wore armor and had a ice prosthetic hand. He looked mean and rugged.

"Frostbite!" Damian yelled from his arms and started struggling. He gripped him tighter. Like hell, he was letting him loose after everything. Even if he somehow knew this kinda of cool looking yeti. The yetis eyes lit up in what he thinks his recognition.

"Great one? Have you returned to us? Who is this?" The yetis voice was softer but still dangerous he kept his mouth shut and hoped Damian knew what to say.

"My-baba? We need to get your village. I need some help." Wow. Damian had never acknowledged he was anything other than his older brother before. If he wasn't a bat and damn good at compartmentalizeing, he'd probably start crying. Or pass out. Probably both.

"All right then, Great One. Any family or friends of his is friends of ours. Follow me."

Which is how he came to be standing in the middle of an entire town of yetis getting scrutinized by Frostbite(?).

"So how did you meet our King? I've never seen you before." He questioned curiously. What the actual fuck did he get into now.

[gaddaboutgriffon]

Young Justice Spider.

I have seen a lot of post where Spider-Man gets sent to Gotham because Dr strange’s memory erasing spell means he can’t stay in the marvel universe anymore, and get adopted by the batfam. But there are not a lot of fics with him and young justice. (Unless you count tiny one shots.)

But what if he landed somewhere else? What if typical Parker luck caused him to enter the dc universe somewhere less favorable because that is where the action would be happening next?

I am going to have the portal spit him out in the underground levels of Cadmus labs on the day that Robin, Kid Flash, and Aqualad go to investigate the fire but end up rescuing Superboy. In fact I think I will have his sudden appearance be why the main psychic genomorph decided to do the fire that day instead of later like planned.

So Cadmus security is already distracted and busy trying to catch one intruder that they miss the side kicks arising and entering through the express elevator. Robin hacks the system and finds project Kr and that there seems to be an “asset” trying to escape. They search and Find Spidey first and since aren’t setting off the spider sense like everything else in the building is he quickly agrees to go with them.

Then they go down to the level project Kr is on, and like in the episode, release the clone. Peter’s Spider sense goes off and he intercepts the attack. Because Superboy is only half kryptonian and hasn’t had natural sunlight yet they are evenly matched strength wise, but Superboy is a tad faster. It isn’t until the scientist Desmond orders the psychic genomorph to psy-blast Spidey that Superboy gets the upper hand and takes him and the other side kicks out.

The rest of the escape happens like in the episode where Superboy changes sides and rescues them from the cloning lab. Then they fight the roided up Desmond/Blockbuster and bring the building down on the former scientist.

When the Justice league gets there and the explain what happened, the adults of course also ask who Spider-man is. Fortunately Robin and Kid Flash made it seem like he was an escaping clone and Peter has the presence of mind to go with the cover story they accidentally gave. So he will be staying in the young justice base with Superboy.

Ok lunch is ending for me, so let’s see what other people can add onto this.

[techexpertindia]

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[dniendos]

THERES NO FUCKING WAY THIS URL IS NOT TAKEN HOW LMFNOOOOO

[silent-stories]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader

Summary: When Noah needs a little break, you notice.

Noah had been pushing himself a little too hard lately, he knew that too. The tour had taken its toll on him, and while he had tried to ignore it, his body was making sure he couldn't.

He had been feeling like he was constantly on the edge of getting sick for days. His cold had been lingering for almost a week now, and it didn’t seem to want to let up.

The worst part was the never-ending sniffles, the raw scratchiness in his throat that felt even worse after a show. He had tried to power through it, taking meds and drinking as much water as he could, but it seemed like nothing really made the symptoms go away completely.

The allergies weren't helping either, kicking in every time he stepped outside into the air full of pollen or when the venue's air conditioning system blasted him with dry air. His head always felt foggy, his ears stuffed, and every time he tried to take a deep breath, it felt like there was a weight sitting on his chest.

On top of that, the tour schedule had been packed, leaving him with little time to rest. Each performance left him almost drained, but he pushed through it anyway, wanting to give the fans the show they deserved.

Canceling again wasn't even an option.

You had been so kind to him during this whole thing. Every time you saw him struggling, whether it was backstage or in a hotel room, you were there, quietly offering help without ever making it feel like he was being babied.

You were always looking out for the band, always taking care of them with little gestures like that, and Noah never wanted to overthink it. But there was something about the way you’d smile when handing him that cup, the way your eyes would soften as you made sure he was comfortable, that made his heart beat a little faster each time.

You’d made him tea a couple of times when he’d been particularly miserable, your gentle hands slipping him the warm cup as you quietly reminded him to take it easy. Even the small gestures, like when you’d remind him to eat or ask if he’d had lunch, meant more to Noah than he could ever express.

You always seemed to notice, your quiet “Have you eaten today?” or “You should probably grab something to eat before the show” always made him feel seen in ways he didn’t know he needed. It wasn’t just about the food; it was the way you cared enough to notice the little things, to make sure he was okay even when he wasn’t asking for help.

Those moments, though simple, built a warmth inside him that he didn’t even realize he’d been missing. He knew it was just you being you—you were always sweet with him and the guys, they were all your friends, so didn't read too much into it.

But today? Today it was worse. The cold was no longer just a nuisance—it was wearing him down. The meds didn’t seem to do much anymore, and no amount of rest seemed to touch the exhaustion that he felt deep in his bones.

He felt sluggish, tired in a way that wasn’t just from the show, but from days of trying to ignore how badly his body was asking for a break. The worst part was that he didn’t want to admit any of this to anyone, especially not to you.

He didn’t want to seem weak or like he couldn’t handle a tour again, even though he knew deep down he probably needed to rest more than anything.

He hated feeling like this. The performance was fine, but he knew it wasn’t his best, not by a long shot.

During the show, he had to take a brief break in the middle of the set. He felt like he might throw up and for a moment, he thought about walking off entirely, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

So, despite the overwhelming fatigue and nausea, he took a deep breath, forced himself to compose, and went back on stage. His voice was a bit rough, his movements sluggish, but he made it through.

When it was finally over, he was beyond exhausted and all he wanted now was the comfort of a quiet room, a warm drink, and some time to just... breathe.

But as he shuffled down the backstage corridor, trying to find his way to a calm spot to rest for a moment before leaving, he found himself trapped by two staff members who, despite their professional roles, were not acting so professionally at the moment.

He had just had time to put on a warmer hoodie when they started with their questions.

"Hey, Noah, that was amazing!" one of them said. "Can we ask a couple of quick questions? Do you have any advice for someone who wants to get into music?"

Noah tried to smile as he answered their questions. He wasn't sure what he was even saying. He wanted nothing more than to get back to the hotel and get some rest.

The other staff member chimed in, asking a dozen more questions before Noah could even process the first one. "Are you feeling okay? You don’t sound quite like yourself, are you getting enough rest on this tour? You’re still gonna push through the rest of the shows, right? You can’t get sick now!"

He fought the urge to rub his face in frustration. "I’m fine, it's just the allergies."

He hoped they're were going to notice he wasn't really feeling good soon. But they didn’t seem to do it, or maybe they just didn’t care. They were too busy being excited about talking to him. Noah’s tired eyes flickered around, desperate for some form of escape. They kept asking questions, all while Noah’s mind was screaming at him to just let him go.

And that’s when you appeared. He caught sight of you walking down the hallway toward him, your familiar presence finally giving him a bit of relief.

You noticed him immediately, and when you saw the exhausted look on his face, you didn’t even need to hear him say a word to know he needed a break.

Your hand found his arm, warm and gentle, and you turned to the two staff members with an apologetic smile. “Hey, sorry to interrupt, but they need Noah for something really quick. It’s kinda urgent.”

Noah straightened slightly, instinctively pushing past his exhaustion. They needed him for something? Shit. What now?

The two staff members immediately stepped back, nodding in understanding. “Oh! Yeah, of course! Thanks for talking with us,” one of them said, looking a little sheepish now.

He mumbled a quick thanks before letting you tug him away. His mind was already scrambling, wondering what exactly was so urgent. Did the crew need him for a last-minute issue? Did something happen with the set? Did one of the guys need him? Was everyone okay?

You guided him through the backstage, keeping one hand on his back until you reached a quieter, empty area.

“Sit,” you said gently, guiding him toward the worn couch.

He hesitated, looking around the quiet space, the dim lighting easing the tension in his shoulders, his mind finally starting to catch up. Something in your voice, something about the way you were moving, told him that there was no rush. You weren’t taking him anywhere for work. You were… looking out for him.

And that’s when it clicked.

Noah looked back at you, his tired eyes searching your face. You weren’t leading him somewhere to fix something or take care of a last-minute emergency. You were giving him space to rest.

“Wait a second…” he muttered, his voice still hoarse. “I thought there was something important—”

You cut him off with a soft smile. “You looked like you needed a break, Noah. Just... sit for a minute before we leave.”

He blinked, suddenly understanding. He couldn’t help the small, surprised smile that tugged at his lips.

“Thanks,” he said quietly. He sank into the couch, letting out a deep breath, finally allowing himself to relax as his body melted into the cushions. The quiet felt good to his weary mind, the kind of comfort that only came when someone truly cared enough to notice when you were past your limit. "I didn't want to be rude... but... damn, I just couldn’t... keep up with all that."

You shook your head with a small, knowing smile. "You didn’t need to answer all their questions anyway," you said, your voice teasing, but there was warmth in it. "And I’m pretty sure you’d rather be sitting down than talking to them."

Noah laughed quietly, rubbing his face with one hand. "You have no idea." he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You chuckled, though there was a flicker of something deeper in your eyes as you looked at him. The way he was so worn down, yet still trying so hard to be kind to everyone, made your heart ache just a little. You knew the effort he was putting in, and how badly he needed moments like this—quiet, away from the world.

He leaned back on the couch, looking up at you, his gaze softening even more.

"Well, you'll have almost three days before the next show. You can spend them in bed watching some stupid TV show."

As you started walking away, ready to leave him to rest for a moment, you barely made it a step before you felt it, Noah’s fingers wrapping around your wrist, gentle but enough to stop you in place.

“Wait,” he murmured. His thumb grazed lightly against your skin, as if he wasn’t even aware of the small motion. “Stay with me… just for a minute.”

You glanced down at his hand, before meeting his eyes.

You hesitated. “I should go...I told Matt I’d meet him in a few minutes. He’s probably looking for me.”

Noah didn’t let go. His hold wasn’t tight, but he didn’t loosen it either. Instead, he shook his head slightly, his lips curving into something almost teasing. “Thotxblaster will survive. Just stay for a bit.”

You chuckled, giving in, and sank back down onto the couch beside him. He finally let go of your wrist, but your skin still felt warm from where his fingers had been.

For a few moments, neither of you spoke. Noah leaned his head back against the couch, exhaling slowly, as if just sitting down and existing in the quiet was already helping. His posture relaxed, and the exhaustion in his features softened into something more peaceful.

Then, without opening his eyes, he murmured, “Thanks.”

You frowned slightly, glancing over at him. “I barely did anything.”

He cracked one eye open, his gaze steady on yours but he spoke with a little voice. “For noticing.”

Your stomach flipped.

It was such a simple statement, but it made you feel something in your stomach.

You swallowed, suddenly feeling warm under his gaze. You tried to shake it off, playing it light. “I mean, you weren’t exactly subtle. You looked like you were about to collapse.”

Noah huffed a quiet laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Still. You didn’t have to.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, please. What kind of person would just leave you there to suffer through that interrogation?”

He smirked. “I don’t know. Probably someone who doesn’t find me as charming as you do.”

You scoffed. “Charming?”

He nodded, completely serious. “Yeah. You know, like… devastatingly handsome. Irresistibly cool.”

You hated him when he acted all teasing like that.

You wanted to kiss him so bad.

You snorted. “Right. Is that what you tell yourself to get through the day?”

“Maybe.”

You shook your head, fighting back a grin. “I think the cold is getting to your head.”

Noah turned his head slightly, looking at you with that lazy, amused expression. “You’re deflecting.”

“I am not.”

“You are.”

You crossed your arms. “Fine. Maybe I noticed. But someone had to make sure you didn’t end up face-first on the floor.”

Noah smirked. “See? You care.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no bite behind it. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here you are,” he mused. He let his eyes drift shut for a moment, sinking further into the couch. “Sitting here. With me.”

You exhaled slowly. You hated that he was right. But at the same time… you didn’t really mind.

“I’m just glad I can help you guys sometimes,” you admitted. “You’re like a family to me.”

Noah let out a quiet hum, tilting his head slightly as he looked at you. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “Of course. I mean, you all take care of each other, but sometimes you need someone looking out for you too.”

He studied you for a moment. Then, with a soft voice, he said, “We’re glad to have you, really.”

No sarcasm, no teasing, no dumb jokes—just honesty. You swallowed, suddenly aware of how close you were sitting.

You turned your head slightly, about to say something, but at the same time, Noah shifted too. The movement was subtle, unintentional maybe, but suddenly, the space between you disappeared.

Neither of you moved back.

Your breath hitched as you realized just how close he was now—his face inches from yours, his tired eyes flickering over your features, lips barely parted. You could feel the warmth radiating from him, the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the lingering traces of the stage and sweat.

His hoodie was slightly oversized but it suited him, the hood resting against the back of his head, the fabric swallowing him up in a way that made him look softer. His tired brown eyes, only made him seem cuter—like all he really needed right now was someone to wrap around him, to hold him close and let him rest.

And God, you wanted to be that person.

You wanted to pull him into you, feel the weight of him as he let go of everything, as he relaxed completely against you. You wanted to press your face into the warmth of his hoodie, breathe him in, run your fingers through his hair, and tell him he didn’t have to be so strong all the time.

Your mind wandered—imagining the two of you curled up together in a bed, tangled in blankets, with your arms wrapped around him, your fingers tracing lazy circles on his back. You could picture him sighing against your neck, warm and safe, the kind of contentment that only came with being close to someone who cared. You’d hold him for hours, pressing sleepy kisses to his forehead, feeling the slow rise and fall of his breath as he finally let himself rest.

His gaze dropped—just for a second.

You were pretty sure you could feel your heart hammering against your ribs.

You swallowed, forcing yourself to say something, anything to break the tension.

“So,” you murmured, your voice quieter, “we’re still calling him that?”

Noah blinked, his breath brushing against your lips. “What? Who?”

You cleared your throat, trying to ignore the way your pulse was racing. “We’re still calling Matt ‘Thotxblaster’?”

For a second, Noah just stared at you, as if it took him a moment to process what you had just said. Then, a slow chuckle escaped him, his lips curling at the edges.

“Don’t try to change the subject.”

You inhaled, but it felt like the space between you only got smaller.

Neither of you moved back.

Neither of you gave in.

“Do you think that if I kiss you, you’ll get a cold too?”

Your stomach flipped. You met his gaze.

“I don’t know,” you murmured. “You wanna test it?”

A pause.

A slow inhale.

Neither of you moved yet.

Just as the space between you seemed to disappear entirely, a voice cut through the quiet.

“Hey, there you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

You flinched, your heart nearly leaping out of your chest as you snapped your head toward the doorway. Matt stood there.

Noah exhaled sharply, leaning back just slightly, adding distance between you two.

Matt didn’t seem to notice anything out of the ordinary. “I need you for something real quick,” he said, gesturing vaguely. “You good?”

You swallowed, your pulse still racing. “Yeah,” you said quickly, standing up. “Yeah, of course.”

Noah didn’t say anything as you moved away, but as you turned back toward him, his gaze met yours one last time.

You knew this wasn't the end.

But before you could even begin to process it, Matt was already leading you away, not knowing that he had just shattered a moment that neither you nor Noah could fully understand yet.

Tags: @anything-more-than-human @ladyveronikawrites @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @bloody-spades @fadingangelwisp @xmads-omensx @iwasntstable @thisbicc @pathion @flowery-mess @into-the-grey @lacy1986 @tosoundlessdarkistare @stardustsirenmelody @thewrstinme @hurricanesfollowyou @ichoosetenderomens @chey-h @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @missduffsblog @pandora-08

[mattslolita]

come get her - c. sturniolo

in which ... you'd been teasing your best friend all night at a party, so he makes you pay on the car ride home. ( bff!chris x black!fem!reader )

warnings ; smut, semi-public sex, riding, oral ( male receiving ), dom!chris, bratty!reader, unprotected piv ( wrap it freaks )

"𝒊 𝒂𝒊𝒏'𝒕 𝒈𝒐𝒕 𝒏𝒐 𝒃𝒖𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒊𝒏' 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖."

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰

all fuckin' night.

it wasn't that bad when the four of you had first arrived at the club — course, chris was still weary about the black dress that rode up your thighs, giving little imagination to any wandering eyes about what treasure lurked underneath. your smooth, brown skin was coated in coconut oil, driving him crazy when they had picked you up from your house.

chris could tell you had already took a few shots before they came, you giggling at the smallest things as you retouched up on your makeup whilst you conversed with nick, as matt drove you guys to the club.

he felt territorial when matt had complemented on how good you looked, catching his eyes lingering for longer than usual — he narrowed his eyes at you as you blew said boy a kiss in the rear view mirror. he groaned subtly when matt's cheeks tinted a rosey, pink hue; he knew his brother didn't harbor any feelings for you, but he wasn't fucking clueless, either — he knew that matt found you attractive.

but you were his — it was only chris would should be flirting with you, chris should be the only one who rested his hand on your upper thighs whilst he whispered his dirty jokes in your ear. only him to watch you squirm and readjust yourself as you bit your lip, easily flustered by him.

so imagine his anger when you all finally arrived at the club — nick was immediately dragging you over to the bar, your ass bouncing in your dress and chris could already feel his frustration pent up while he watched you with wandering eyes.

he watched as the bartender whispered into your ear, you batting your eyelashes at him innocently as you flirted with him whilst he made your drinks ( free, of course — with your charm, you'd never been paying for a damn thing. )

from the comfortable cushion of his seat across from his brother at one of the tables, chris watches as nick then takes you to the dance floor. with a few drinks in your system, you could get restless.

his jaw ticked as people crowded around you, watching you caress your body as you danced to the sexy, sensual song that blasted throughout the speakers of the club. there were multiple guys who'd tried to grab your attention, hands flying to your waist. you batted your eyelashes and pouted your perfectly plump lips at them, giving them a no as an answer — you were so much fun, but you weren't easy.

your ass swayed side to side, one hand nursing yet another margarita as you danced with one of your best friends. you were loose, yet not carefree. for a moment, you turn to where your other best friends sat at their respective tables. chris was already watching you unashamedly, causing you to grin at teasingly as you flash him a wink whilst beckoning him towards you. he shakes his head at you, though; he was gonna let you have all the fun wanted.

because he knew he was gonna make you pay.

the tent in his jeans, all because you decided to get up on the stand and give everybody a show — multiple bills were thrown at you as you smirked down at all the people who gushed over you, the life of the party.

it wasn't until nick had decided that you'd had enough drinks for the night and you were beginning to grow restless — you pouted at him, annoyed that your fun had to end so abruptly.

nick held his hand out for you, helping you off of the stand as you ran a hand through your freshly done lace front — giggles emitted from you as nick helped you to walk over to where his brothers were.

chris had been so caught up in sipping on his own drink, that he didn't see a girl trying to talk to him the entire time. even matt was busy shooting the breeze with a cute girl who came up to him earlier, resulting in him getting a number to call before the night had ended. the pretty, blonde girl trying to get chris's attention had gotten fed up with his ignorance towards her, that she decided to leave him be.

when you and nick approached the both of them, you send a wave to both boys, your eyes lingering on chris a moment longer causing you to giggle.

"you shoulda came and danced with me," you tease him, running your acrylic nail through your hair, "i was havin' so much fun."

"bet you were, y/n," chris hums lowly, rubbing a hand over his jaw as he gets up from his spot. "sure everybody enjoyed the little show."

"m'surprised you didn't break a hip up there," matt chimes in, having already said his goodbyes to the girl who accompanied him a few seconds ago, "i think it's time for you to go home."

"just what i was thinking!" nick grins, and you pout and frown, crossing your arms over your chest as you roll your eyes. "don't pout y/n, you've had enough to drink."

"fine!" you snap back, but it quickly turns into a grin as you prod a finger into matt's chest, "but i wanna have aux."

matt chuckles and shakes his head, holding his arms up. "whatever you say, kid. c'mon, let's go."

chris is quick to slither an arm around your waist, dangerously low to your ass causing you to lean into his touch as he guided you outside. nick and matt led the way, which gave chris the initiative to land a smack to your ass.

"ow!" you whine, narrowing you eyes at the boy beside you, "what was that for?"

"hush up doll, and get in the car," chris whispers to you, causing you to roll your eyes as you both finally reach matt's car. "ladies first."

he grins at you as you smack your lips together, climbing into the car — chris's eyes darken as he watches your ass up in the air, your lace panties underneath nearly peaking up at him, begging to be ripped off of you. when you situate yourself inside, you giggle at chris's wandering eyes and motion for him to get inside beside you.

nick was already asleep in the second row of the car, his snores carrying throughout the car as matt had started the car up. you lean up across the seats, snatching the aux cable up as you connect your phone to it quickly. chris pulls his lips in between his teeth, the soft flesh of your ass practically in his face as you squirm trying to balance yourself on the counsel.

"don't skip a song either, matt!" you warn the middle triplet brother, settling back down in your seat.

"yeah, yeah, just relax back there, y/n!" matt calls from the front, pulling from off the curb.

you start to move around in the car, getting lost in come get her by rae sremmurd which was currently playing throughout the car. you weren't in your seatbelt, much to chris's disappointment beside you.

you rolled the window down beside you, carefully leaning up to set your lower half on the window as half of your upper body was outside the window. chris watched with narrowed eyes as your body swayed side to side, the dress riding up with every movement from your body. the youngest triplet brother was growing angry — he was sick and tired of watching you tease him all night.

when you came back into the car, a grin pulled at your lips as you looked over at chris — you had to know what you were doing. his nostrils flare as he looks at you, rubbing his hand along his jaw as he manspread.

"can you just sit the fuck down in ya spot?" chris hisses, his eyes narrowing as you pout at him, "for fucks sake, y/n."

"m'just havin fun, why you all mad for?" you say with a roll of your eyes, pursing your lips.

you cross your arms across your chest, then sit back down in your fully, before giving chris a sultry gaze as your eyes flicker all over him.

and that's when he snaps.

he's muttering curses under his breath as he forcefully takes ahold of your chin, bringing your close impossibly close to his own, embarrassingly making your panties. "you get on my damn nerves, y'know. think you can just dance on everybody and get away with it? huh?"

you say nothing, your thighs clenching as you whimper and look up at chris with puppy dog eyes. he licks his lips as his blue eyes graze over your lips. you eyes trail along his, inviting him to make a move.

he pulls you in by your hair, smashing his lips onto yours hungrily — it's a mess of teeth clashing and tongues fighting, yet all chris could think about is getting his hands all over you.

your hands rest on his thighs, inching closer to where he wanted, no needed you the most — the restriction in his boxers become hard to contain as your hands graze over his belt.

"wanna...suck you off..." you mumble into chris's lips, you moan into his mouth.

"yeah? get on your knees then, slut," chris orders you, pulling you back by your hair, eliciting a whimper from you, "show me what that pretty mouth can do."

wasting no time, you pry yourself in between his legs, running your hands up and down his jeans. he groans, his eyes narrowing at you as he hurriedly slips his pants down just a reasonable amount — you bite your lip as the large print against his boxers, greedily thinking about how much you want to wrap your lips around him.

you run a hand over his boxers, palming him through them as you look up with sultry eyes. "takin' too long, sweetheart. hurry up an' get to it."

you giggle and nod, chris lifting himself to help you slide his boxers down — your eyes marvel at his size, wondering if you could take it all. he grins when he sees your expression. "y'so big baby, it might not fit..."

"don't even try it, doll," chris hisses, grabbing you again by your hair causing you to gasp slightly, "you can take it."

you maintain eye contact with chris as you take his length in your hand, causing a soft groan to leave his lips — you grin up at him with your pouty lips, stroking him slowly as he watches you intently. you spit on his tip, lubricating his cock in your saliva before kitten licking his tip.

"shit, y'teasin' me, ma," chris groans above you. he takes ahold of your hair, shoving you onto his cock, causing him to throw his back back in pleasure. "fuck, thas it, baby..."

you gag immediately, his tip almost hitting the back of your throat as you first struggle to adjust to all of him in your mouth — slut him out by baby tate now mindlessly drowns out the sound of chris's soft moans as you whimper and suck him off. your head bobs up and down, before your acrylic nails wrap around his shaft to stroke the rest of what wouldn't fit in your mouth. you look up at chris with lidded eyes, watching his expressions contort into ones of pleasure.

"s-s'good baby, yeah, s'right..." he groans out in pleasure, his grip on your hair easing up only slightly, "so good f'me, always so good..."

you feel your panties dampen at his words, whimpering around his cock as you continue to bop your head up and down — his cock twitching in your mouth was letting you know how close he was.

"hol' on," chris grunts, pulling you up by your hair.

you look up at him in confusion, wiping the drool that gathered at the corners of your lips, before pursing. "you was close baby, why'd you make me stop?"

"y'gonna ride me, sweetheart," chris grins darkly, grabbing your legs and hoisting them on either side of his lap. you gasp as your hands fly to his neck, but you glance behind you. "who cares if he hears us? sure didn't care givin' everybody a whole show, did you?"

you whimper helplessly, causing chris to chuckle. "s'what i thought. c'mon baby, need you on top of me."

you bunch your dress up to your knees, wriggling yourself out of your panties and setting them to the side — you glance backwards again, looking to see that matt's eyes were on the road, with the music on full blast.

chris's hands are on your waist, gripping the plush flesh of your brown as he sinks you onto his cock — a moan leaves your lips as you immediately throw your head back, followed by chris's obscenities.

"s-so big, fuck, chris," you mewl, his hand gripping your chin harshly whilst he grips your thigh harshly.

"fillin' me up so well, atta girl," chris praises, the words going straight to your already pulsating pussy, "c'mon baby, start movin'..."

slowly, you rock your hips back and forth, lewd noises escaping your lips as you hold onto chris for dear life — he hands a harsh smack to your ass, watching where his cock slides in and out of your dripping cunt.

"mm, feel so good, baby," you whine out, not caring anymore that your other best friends might hear you.

"shit, fuckin' amazing," chris babbles, watching you bounce up and down on his cock, "could stay in this pussy all night..."

his eyes are lidded, lips in between his teeth as he grabs your chin to force you to look down at him — your lips are parted as lust is clouded within them, the eye contact you're holding with chris causing you to clench around his cock.

"squeezin' me up so tight," chris grunts. his hand goes down to rub tight circles around you clit, causing you to moan out.

"m'so close, chris," you whine, his lips attaching to your neck, sucking a dark purple mark there. his fingers on your clit are relentless as your bouncing becomes sloppier within seconds, "can i cum, please?"

"g'head doll, cum for me," chris moans, both of his hands now on your thighs.

with a loud moan, your head is thrown back as you came around his cock, lubricating it with your juices — but even after your orgasm, chris's hands are tight on your hips as he takes it upon himself to thrust into you repeatedly.

"sensitivee," you whine out, pouting as your head falls in the crook of his neck, still holding onto him.

"nah, open your eyes you slut," chris orders, his thrusts hard as he continues fucking into you, "wanna see you when i cum."

you whimper as his hand goes back up to your chin, holding it in place as your eyes glaze over whilst you watch his lidded eyes as he thrusts into you — they become sloppier, letting you know how close he was to letting go.

"shit, m'close ma," chris grunts, his head thrown back momentarily, "get up..."

weakly, you lift yourself off of his cock, tiredly falling down beside him as you hiss at the sensitivity of your cunt — chris turns to the side, giving himself a few more strokes before ropes of hot, white cum envelope your thighs. he continues stroking himself until he's completely milked dry, then he falls back down onto his seat.

you catch your breath, running a hand through your hair, which was surely messed up by now — you smacked your lips and rolled your eyes at chris, pointing to your hair. "look at what you did, i just got it done!"

chris rolls his eyes at your bratty behavior. "i'll take you to get it redone, now stop actin' up."

"whatever, you better keep your promise!" you sass back, feeling around for your panties.

when you turned around, your ass was facing the air yet again, causing chris to land a swift smack to your ass — you turn around and mean mug him. "fuck you, i'm tryna look for my panties!"

"you just did, ma," chris grins smugly, holding your lacy black panties up in front of you, causing you to smile and reach for them. he retracts his hand, clicking his tongue as he stuffs the material into his pockets. "keepin' these, i'll buy you a new set."

you huff out, pulling your dress back down as you situate yourself back in your seat and cross your arms over your chest, refusing to look at your best friend. "mhm, whatever."

matt pulled into the triplets' house sooner than you expected, and you quickly took out your body spray and gave the backseat a few good spritz, feeling guilty about the sex smell that lingered in the back of his car. "nick, wake up!"

the older triplet brothers stirs, before jolting awake — he looks around, then turns around and shoots you and chris a weird look; you shoot him a nervous, yet confused smile and he shakes his head as he hurriedly climbs out the car.

"hurry up an' get out," chris tells you, arching his eyebrow making you roll your eyes at him for the millionth time that night.

you climb out the car, chris quickly following afterwards. he grimaces when he sees nick's sleepy figure attempting to hobble towards their front door. the cold breeze of the night air sifts past you, and you run a hand through your hair and smooth your dress out.

"next time, can you both keep it down back there?" matt suddenly says beside you, causing you to gasp and hold a hand to your chest.

"the fuck, you scared me idiot!" you snapped, narrowing your eyes at matt, before an embarrassed expression paints your features, "how much of that did you even hear?"

"fuck chris, feels so good, don't stop-"

"you fuckin' pervert!" you say, chasing matt up the steps of their house.

( lilly's corner 💌 )

happy birthday baby ( @55sturn ) i love you endlessly babygirl! this one's for you🫦.

i hope y'all enjoyed this fic !💌

@luverboychris @muwapsturniolo @cottoncandyswisherz @thenickgirl @guccifrog @nicksgirlfriend @streamermattsgf @sturnprime @eyeliketoeatpoosay @middlepartmatt @chrissturniolossidehoe @chaossturns @chanelles-world @chris-slut @chrissgirlonly @mbbsgf @pinksturniolo @l0akkzz @summerssover @sturnioz @lanas-doll

[rabotimagines]

"Battlefield flirting" GN BOT Reader x Megatron, Starscream, Thundercracker, The Constructicons

Summary: He was on the battlefield trying to stay focused when suddenly your voice rings out much closer than anyone should currently be to his frame, let alone the enemy!

G1 characters: Megatron, Starscream, Thundercracker, The Constructicons

Warnings: Sexually charged mild to rather violent fantasies across the board (aka the cons being cons), This ones more Mature instead of Explicit

Genre/Theme: Annoying/Sexually frustrating the cons.

Pronouns: You, Your, Yours

Notes: GN Autobot! Reader calling The cons pet names/flirting, The cons get sexually frustrated by the enemy (you), written with an older reader in mind (Megatron and Starscream call reader "Old.") Reader is playful with the cons.

"Think fast, sweet thing!" Megatron jolts and whips around when the phrase is shouted at him. And he has a nano-klick to see your infuriating smile and to feel the baffling touch of your em field brushing over his frame. All before registering the EMP-gernade, you hurled at him. Megatron curses wildly before throwing himself over a mound of rock while the EMP-gernade goes off. He grits his denta hard when the pulse still rocks his frame and ends up forcing a portion of his systems to shut down near immediately. Megatron shoves his cannon over the side of his cover and misses his shot at you. You only laughed at the whiffed shot and almost nailed Megatron in the optic with your returned fire. It instead scrapes his helm and forces him to pull back with a hiss. "Woah! Close one there, sugar! C'mon try again for me dear!" Megatron grits his jaw hard enough his denta ache. You obnoxious old fool!

Megatron despises you! A nail in his side! That's what you've been for him through this entire war. His ire has only grown for you since arriving on earth. You've seem keen on annoying him (and his mechs) as thoroughly as you can by mockingly calling them "Pet names" of all things. What drivel! However, you didn't survive this long on pure luck. And Megatron knows he'll more than likely have to kill you himself if he wanted you permanently off of this playing field. So he has to grit his jaw and square his pauldrons whenever another disgustingly sweet phrase rolls off of your glossia. Knowing he needed to focus if he wanted to gain the upper servo in the fight.

Megatron denies the obvious heat that starts to burn in his frame whenever he sees your playful expression and when he's close enough to feel your em field. But after enough battle encounters- and when you simply still will not shut up! That is when he doesn't even bother denying it anymore. Megatron wasn't just going to best you and then kill you. No. He was going to win, then take you apart while he puts you in your place.

You best hope you don't get captured by the Decepticons. Because Megatron knows exactly what he's gonna make you put that mouth of yours to better use for.

-

"Hey, doll face!" It's not the phrase but the almost sultry touch of an em field on his frame that makes Starscream whip his helm to the side in bafflement. He has enough time to see your smile before you slam the edge of your blaster into his faceplate. The Autobot scout he had pinned runs like a little coward as soon as Starscream's attention is off of him. Starscream lifts his nullray and fires it at you while you just dodge and dive for cover. Starscream huffs and tastes his own energon, and he's not just mad. He is furious!

"You blasted old annoying piece of scrap!" Starscream fires his null ray at where you're hiding.

"Aw, c'mon sweetness, give a mech a little credit!" You finish the exclamation by firing and barely missing a shot at one of his wings. The lion, the witch, and the audacity of this autobot glitch!

Starscream growls out in fury before transforming and taking to the sky. Fully and aggressively planning on dive bombing you from above for your transgressions!

Starscream loathes your annoying, incessant self with a passion that knows no end. You were an irritating autobot asset before- now you're an infuriating pain in his aft! The galling mockery of affection of all things rolling off your glossia. The aggravating smile and amusement on your faceplate! Your blasted perverse little em field! Killing you before would have simply been an act by him as second in command as the Decepticons. But now? Starscream needs to feel your energon staining his servos and your spark giving out underneath his pede. And he wouldn't settle for anything less! If he sees the opportunity to do you harm? Starscream is not allowing the chance to slip him by!

The heat that starts plaguing Starscream's frame when he sees your smarmy faceplate only succeeds in feeding into his ire for you. Starscream was going to kill you- But then he realizes it's not enough. You deserved much worse from him! Starscream needs to hurt you. Starscream needs to break you! He wants no more sycophantic little phrases and names- The only thing out of you besides begging for mercy would be Starscreams designation.

If Starscream gets his servos on your sparkdamned frame, he was going to carve his designation into your chasiss with a talon if he had to. Just you fragging wait!

-

"Hey, hot stuff! Hope you can handle all of this!" Thundercracker's helm jerks to the side just in time to see you before you full frame tackle him. Knocking him right off his pedes and onto the ground. You both end up a tangle of limbs and frames. Which quickly leads to grappling with one another. Servo to servo your locked over each other while you're both trying to gain the upper hold. Thundercracker starts gaining the upper grasp in it only for you to grin at him. Your em field brushes over Thundercrackers' frame in a hot but very genuine feeling of playfulness, and it makes him falter momentarily in confusion. "Hey hottie!" Barely registers on his audials before you slam your helm into Thundercrackers olfactory hard enough his optics short for a nanoklick. You then slam yourself into his frame again and knock him back off his pedes.

Thundercracker didn't know what to think about you. He enjoys a proper fight almost more than anything. He just can't comprehend your little name-calling act you've started doing. It's almost as confusing as your em field. Your- fluttering and very unashamed em field that would brush out against him even when you were trying to kill each other and covered in each others energon and on a battlefield. Wait was this- Thundercracker has to shut down the insane idea that this was some slagging- romance novel of all things. He's been indulging in too many human things in his free time he needed to get it together.

And then the heat starts, and that's when Thundercracker immediately realizes he's fragged. Totally and completely fragged. He fell for the enemy, whom he regularly gets into full frame life or death scraps with. He was going to get beaten up next time he saw you because he's not gonna be able to fight back without getting horny about it- Except that also gets him going. So Thundercracker decides to just power through and fight you properly. Thundercracker even entertains the thought of meeting you in secrecy to spar. Like you weren't on opposing sides at war.

When Thundercrackers alone in his habsuite, he even lets himself entertain the thought of said imaginary spar ending with you both covered in each others energon and paint. Like so many times before but this time it's different. Because you're alone with one another... No need to worry about either of your factions. Away from the world and any prying optics from either side-

Thundercracker pinning you down, venting hard... with his spike pressed up against your own. (He's so fragged!)

-

Devastator is reigning destruction on the autobot scum that have made a mess of their plans again! They were in a feeble human construction area and watching the Autobots run like cyberants under their pedes for cover. "Hey hunk-a-lunk!" The voice is loud, and the only reason they all turn in the first place is because they are all either baffled by the name or by the affectionate little em field that brushes against their armor. Devastator turns to see you standing on one of the humans made constructions. When they see you, your smile widens, and your em field actually pushes further against their frame. And it's? Pleasant? Confusion running through all of them is what stops Devastator for a moment. "Keep standing still for me, darling!" You threw something, and it doesn't even hit their frame before the EMP-gernade you tossed explodes right next to them. They can barely shout before the electromagnetic pulse surges through half of their systems and forces them to shut down. Devastator falls into a heap of half conscious constructicons.

Scrapper does not like you, short, sweet, and simply put. The names especially rubbed him the wrong way. Who were you to call him that? Let alone all of them. Scrapper is planning on multiple different projects for your frame parts if they can actually manage to take you out. Your parts definitely deserve some long use, especially with how long you've been annoying them.

Hook is conflicted because it's obvious he deserves every ounce of praise and affection thrown his way! The fact that he's been neglected all this time in that particular department means he's rather accepting of the verbal admiration. He, however, wants to toss you like scrap for your em field audaciously runs along his own. Who do you think you are? touching him? As a filthy Autobot?

Mixmaster is the exact opposite of Hook. He loves the foreign heavy and almost floaty touch of your em field feels against his frame. It makes him want to get closer and feel more of it and see how strong that feeling can get. While on the other servo, he hates the names you call them all. They were Decepticon warriors, not show cars for some fleshy fetish event.

Bonecrusher is more conflicted on the fact that he likes the way you look and smile at him while your em field and names also make him wanna scrap you. He genuinely has no fragging clue why the curl in your derma and the light softness in your optics makes his engine wanna stall. But that softness only makes the urge to ruin you that much heavier.

Scavenger loves the names, the expressions, and your em field. Oh, primus, he's an utter mess around you. Completely and utterly adores you and he can't get enough of you. Every look, name, and touch from your em field on the battlefield has him wanting to fold like a house made of aluminum. He knows you're the enemy but you're so sweet to him Scavenger just can't help it okay! (The other constructicons actively have to make an effort to keep Scavenger away from you on the battlefield.)

Long haul is frankly surprised that besides Scavenger he's the only one who also genuinely likes all of you. So he just keeps that fact to himself. You were hot, flirty, sweet. Sure, you were a filthy Autobot, but not everyones perfect. Long haul could get used to the positive attention even if it was from an unusual source. It's not like the constructicons had anything else to do but sit and wait around for projects from Megatron. There was no harm in Long haul having something for himself to enjoy in private...

The heat starts with exactly one of them (Long haul.) Scavenger to this day swears it was not him who started the cursed thought, (It was Long haul.) But they combine to form Devastator and you behave as you do. And then that hot and heavy heat courses through every single one of them because they are one as Devastator. Afterward, they're all freaking out about the sudden arousal they just now share towards an autobot of all bots while threatening Scavenger with frame damage for starting it in the first place. (Long haul was taking this slag to his deactivation)

The next time they form Devastator and you distract them with names and your touchy em field, though? Heat is simultaneous across all of them. That's when they decided as Devastator that they needed to have you. Devastator abandons the task to instead try to get a hold of you. They could break you apart and fix you up into something better for all of them. If only the other Autobots weren't so annoyingly protective of their own...

They didn't have room for anything as ridiculous as love as Decepticons. (Especially not for an Autobot.) But they certainly had an empty position open for a new toy.

[pome-seed]

The Soldier's Keeper ★ 35

Pairing: Winter Soldier!Bucky x Doctor!Reader

Summary: Repealing the Sokovia Accords becomes the teams only focus, once settled in Wakanda. But for you and Bucky, all you can see is each other, and fixing what Hydra left behind.

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence. Flashback to Winter Soldier Days. Mention of Surgery and the brain. Legal and Technical Talk.

Authors Note: I did so much research into legal stuff and medical stuff for this one. My brain is much. Love ya'll. ALSO, if you want to be apart of the taglist, let me know :)

Series Masterlist Next Chapter

Old hinges groan under the weight of steel doors. Steve, Bucky, and Tony, cautiously enter the dimly lit hallway. The air was stale, tasting of dust and time. 

“I got heat signatures,” Tony leads the three, hand raised. 

“How many?” Steve creeps behind his shield. 

Tony squinted, scanning the large chasm. “Three,” He took a steadying breath. 

The muscles in Bucky’s jaw fluttered as he stepped into the lab, memories flooding his system. Suspended in cryopods across the far wall were three bodies. Three of the chambers still crackled with ice, the doors wide open. Bucky’s eyes lingered on the bodies still within.

Unlike what he’d been expecting, they were aged- withered and peeling. Barely flesh on bone, with ice dusting their skulls. He swallowed hard, steeling his focus in the moment. 

But it was hard. In a place with so many memories. 

In a pace, haunted with the ghost of his past. A place soaked in blood. He forced himself to turn away from the chair in the center, where he once spent so many agonizing hours.

.

“47 and 56, step forward.” A man in the corner of the cold bunker training room shouted.

Two agents clad in black walked into the center of the room, their gazes steadied on Bucky. 

Bucky, muzzled and barely breathing, stood in wait. It was often that he was used as a sort of training milestone for agents of Hydra. 

Beat the Winter Soldier, prove yourself as an elite.

Hold your own, prove yourself as worthy for improvement. 

It was how the original five other Winter Soldiers were chosen. They were the only ones who lasted more than a few seconds.

So Bucky stood there, panting as blood from his cracked nose filled his mask. Trembling with adrenaline as he flattened out another soldier on the concrete. He’d lost count of how many came before him. He just knew he had to fight. He had to win. He had to appease his handler.

Winning, for the other soldiers, was a true victory. But for Bucky, it meant that an unenhanced soldier got the best of him. That meant punishment. That meant pain.

That meant they had to improve their favorite weapon.

.

“What the hell?” 

Tony’s voice snapped Bucky back into the present. He’d lost himself to memories again, like a child slipping under a tidal wave. Bucky shook himself, trying to focus.

Tony grimaced, walking up to the corpses behind glass. “I thought-

“If it's any better, they died in their sleep.” A distorted voice crackled through an aged speaker. “It seems even the enhanced aren't immune to death.”

Bucky adjusted his grip on his rifle, his soured expression flickering to Steve. It didn’t take long for the pieces to fall into place. The wilted bodies, the deterioration. It was the disease. The degeneration Hydra was oh so worried about. It had snuck in in the silence of the night, and destroyed bodies pumped full of power. 

Bucky couldn’t help but feel his cheeks sour at the sight of the corpses. It could have been him. It should have been him. And without you, it would have been.

“I am grateful to each of them, though. They brought you here.” A small light between the tubes flicked on, exposing Zemo behind a small glass window. Steve shot his shield towards the pane, and it snapped back without a crack.

“Please, Captain. The soviets build this chamber to withstand the launch blasts of UR-100 rockets,” the man said, almost with a smug smile.

“I’m bettin’ I could beat that,” Tony remarked, tracking the heat signatures through the walls.

“Oh I’m sure you could Mr. Stark, given time. Time that you don’t have.”

“You killed innocent people in Vienna just to bring us here?” Steve grit, marching up to the window.

“I’ve thought about nothing else for over a year.” The man whispered, staring up at Steve.

Something wasn’t right. Where were the other three soldiers? Bucky zoned out of the psychological jump rope going on around him. He scanned the room, finally getting a good look at everything.

He’d been there many times. He spent decades asleep inside those very chambers. But each time he was dragged into that chair, nothing else mattered but the pain. Nothing but waiting, praying, begging for it to stop. So he never before got a good look at the place.

It was haunting. 

It was abandoned. A dead society once walked those very halls, planning and plotting. But now it was just a structure of bones and souls, lost to the world. 

“...I lost everyone…And so will you.” The conversation floated back to Bucky now, reeling in his attention. The man turned back to the microphone, his eyes locked onto Steve’s. “Солдаты, в атаку.” 

Soldiers, attack.

A cold, humming silence breaks as a reinforced steel door blows inward in a fiery eruption. Smoke coils through the room as three soldiers in familiar uniforms rise from the shadows.

The larger of the three charged forward like a tank. Steve braced himself and blocked the hit with his shield. The two grappled in a test of strength. Sparks burst as Steve slid backward but quickly countered with a shield bash to the soldier’s jaw.

The second soldier, a man, moved like smoke. He slid forward, swinging for Bucky’s skull. Bucky blocked with his rifle and countered with clean, controlled strikes. The man twisted behind him, landed, then yanked a pipe clean off the wall. Bucky turned, squeezing the trigger of his rifle. Shots sparked off the wall, but before a bullet could land, the man knocked the rifle free with the pipe.

When he went to swing again, Bucky spun and countered just in time, sending both tumbling over a control panel. Splayed out on the cold cement floor, crossing his arms over his face to block scattered blows, Bucky felt sickening nostalgia.

Steve and Bucky supported each other's wounded weight as they dragged themselves towards T’Challa’s ship. To their shock, when they arose from the building, triumphant in their battle against the sleeper agents, they found the Wakandan king waiting outside with a restrained Zemo. 

He’d followed them there, for Bucky.

Steve personally sighed in relief as he realized T’Challa had the right man in chains. 

Tony, still suited up, spoke breathlessly with the man dressed in black. By the time Steve and Bucky dragged themselves to the ship, a deal had already been made. 

“Chins up, boys, we’re going on a trip.” Tony’s steel mask slid shut.

Bucky lowered his head, his dark hair sticking to the blood on his face. 

When you first stepped foot off the jet into Wakanda, you were in slack jawed awe. 

You never in your wildest dreams thought you would see Wakanda. And until hours ago, you were sure it would never happen. Until, on the flight back to New York, Natasha got a call from Tony.

When she said his name, you lept from your seat, straining your ears to listen in. You couldn’t catch a word. But from the shift in Natasha’s expression, you knew something was happening. Or had already happened.

“What is it?” Your words fell of deaf ears. 

“Tony, you know they’re gonna want you back for a briefing-” Nat’s eyes narrowed. She made a huffed sound as she listened, and then something relaxed washed over her expression. She shook her head with exasperation and hung up.

“Natasha- what’s happening?” You begged, gripping the edge of your seat.

“I need to talk to the pilot,” she rose from her seat. “Looks like we’re meeting the boys in Wakanda.”

So now, there you stood, frozen and gaping at the beauty flying past you. Buildings stretched to the sky, sparkling like crystals. Murals painted in the colors of the sun and earth spread out in the city behind you. Birds fluttered past, singing praise.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, stumbling down the ramp. 

“Jesus,” Natasha muttered, walking past you. With a little more focus, the red head caught sight of the people waiting ahead. “Y/n, come on.” 

You blinked out of your daze and found three tall women with shaved heads waiting for you. You gulped and followed quickly after Natasha. One of the women nodded their head at Natasha. And confirmed your names. 

“Follow, please.” The woman in the center said, her expression leveled. 

Natasha sent you a look, her brows lifting in awe. You suppressed a nervous smile. 

The journey to the medical bay was long. Though maybe that was just because you spent every step gawking at what surrounded you. The vibranium infused soil pulsed beneath your feet, wrought with life and beauty.

The sleek halls you descended through were glowing with light, smooth and clean. Their lab was a whole different story too. One glance at the passing technology showed how advanced they were. Beyond words and theories. 

The tall woman led you through the halls and bustling lab. Doctors in lab coats spoke in hushed voices as they fluttered around the room. 

Your searching gaze found Tony, who was getting his shoulder examined. Your heart jumped in your chest. Across from Tony, sitting on an examination table, was Bucky. 

Like he could sense you, his head shot up, and his eyes met yours. You breathed a sigh of relief, like having him in your sights lifted a weight from your chest. You staggered over to him quickly, zeroing in on the busted flesh and scabbed blood on his nose and cheek. “Are you okay?”

His tight posture relaxed as you stepped between his spread knees, your shaking hands hovering over his face. He looked up at you from beneath his dark lashes. “I’ll live.”

You frowned, ghosting your fingers over his previously broken nose. They must have reset it before you arrived. You were sure it was already healing. But you hated the thought of him in pain. “What happened?”

“A crazy douche, that’s what.” Tony groaned from behind you. You threw him a fond roll of your eyes before focusing back on Bucky.

Bucky nodded his head with a light smile. “He’s not far off.” He blinked up at you. His warm hand slid around your wrist and pulled it from where it hung in the air by his cheek. “I’m fine.” He whispered.

“Yeah?” 

He nodded slowly. 

You stared at him for a moment, silent. He looked at you with a sense of awe, like he was still trying to map out your features. Like he didn’t think he would ever get to see you this close again.

“You didn’t think you were making it back, did you?” You asked him, melancholy twisting your gut. He avoided your gaze, his fingers twitching around your wrist. You knew you were right. He thought he was marching into his old den of horrors, facing five super soldiers trained in the same way he was, while he was already not functioning at 100%.

He didn’t think he was making it home.

But he did. 

To you.

You tugged your wrist free from his grip and laced your fingers together. Bucky stiffened, glancing up at you. “I’m glad you did.” You whispered. 

He visibly swallowed, his thumb twitching against your knuckles. He huffed and yanked you close, his arm sliding around your waist. You met him halfway, cradling him in a hug. 

It felt good to hold him, knowing danger wasn’t immediately looming around the corner. It felt good to feel him sigh shakily against your neck and drop his head onto your shoulder. 

You knew you weren’t alone. You were aware there were prying eyes, and a world in chaos outside. But for a moment, you just wanted to cling to him. 

You raked your nails through his hair, lightly scratching his scalp. He shivered, almost purring beneath your touch.

You didn’t know what this was, what it meant. You didn’t understand the bond that tied you to Bucky. But you didn’t feel the need to question it. You didn’t care. 

You just knew you wanted to keep him close, safe, and loved. 

“So what happens now?” You whispered into Bucky’s hair. He shook his head into your neck, his arms curling tighter around your back. 

“I don’t know.” He huffed. 

“What happens,” Tony spoke up again, drawing your attention. “Is your two,” he pointed at Bucky and Steve, “Stay here, while we fix this.”

Bucky lifted his head, his lips pulling into a frown. 

“And how's that?” Steve crossed his tired arms. 

“We try to get the accords repealed, for one.” Natasha spoke up, leaning back against Tony’s examination table. “We need to put together our case. Go back as far as we can, use New York and Siberia to explain why the accords won’t work. Until we get that done, you two are fugitives.” She looked between Bucky and Steve. 

You withdrew your arms from around Bucky, your frown tugging deeper as you listened. Bucky’s hands slid back to rest on your waist. You didn’t comment on it. “I’ll be honest- there was a lot you guys were doing wrong. But that also just means there's a lot you can work on to use in your favor.”

Tony made a face. “Okay- you’ve been under a rock for two years, where did that come from-” he wiggled a finger at you.

“I had access to the internet for one day and even that was enough to be sure that you guys have a lot to make up for,” You lifted a brow, trying not to smile at Tony’s eye roll.

He waved his hand dismissively at you. “Whatever.” He looked back at Steve. They shared a short look. Tony swallowed guiltily and sighed. “We’ll fix this.”

“You need to focus on getting our team out of their cages.” Steve frowned. Tony nodded, his gaze shifting to the side. 

“I’ll bring them home.”

The bombing in Vienna, as tragic as it was, proved to be the best defence against the Accords. As it turned out, a repeal wasn’t exactly necessary yet, considering the explosion and death of the king of Wakanda meant the signing had never fully undergone. 

All proceedings following the bombing were following the guidelines of the accords since the situation was deemed emergency circumstances. 

But the Accords were never officially, completely signed.

Which made things just slightly easier in the Avengers case. 

So, while you were stuck in Wakanda, what was left of the Avengers worked on presenting a unified proposal to the UN. The first step, as shocking as it was, was public transparency. A more proactive PR campaign was created to unify the Avengers, as well as humanize them to the public. 

It was also helpful in the matters of bringing reason to the catastrophes that were left behind by the Avengers. As hard as it was, it was necessary to make the point known; without the Avengers, New York, and the entire rest of the world, for that matter, may not have had any survivors left behind, after the wormhole. 

Without the Avengers, the helicarriers that crashed into Washington D.C wouldn’t have just been rubble and fire. It would have been billions of bodies dropped and left to rot for a supremacist regime's agenda.

Without the Avengers, Lagos wouldn’t have just been a corner of a building. It would have been a biological weapon, a disease, spreading through the cities, killing hundreds.

And following highlighting their biggest wins and losses, they suggested a new program under the Avengers; one of recovery. Under the new program, large-scale, coordinated disaster relief teams - both human and robotic - would be assigned to the affected city. This entailed a fusion of military logistics, urban redevelopment, and trauma care. 

There were essentially three main phases.

Immediate response. Safety and containment; Search and rescue, followed by structure safety teams assessing compromised buildings and zones. Medical triage, with specialized staff trained for foreign metal wounds and radiation exposure. As well as drones and portable towers to restore basic communication and electricity. 

Recovery and cleanup. Robotic demolition teams sent to safely dismantle debris. Temporary shelters and rations. 

Long term rehabilitation. Stark foundation grants to rebuild homes. 

With the most public of their flaws laid out, their proposal also highlighted the internal workings of the Avengers. There would be an internal board, a code of conduct, and public transparency protocols laid in place. 

By showing the public that they were going to begin seriously self regulating, it lessened the threat of external regulation. 

As the public campaign hit the news, there were several new questions raised by the public about the accords. 

For one, the news of the incarceration of world heroes like Clint Barton and Sam Wilson brought public backlash. For one, the imprisonment without trial. It brought legal challenges regarding human rights. 

Many recognized the Avengers as heroes sacrificing themselves for the world, and strictly regulating them may be counterproductive. The reason they were able to save so many lives in the past, rooted from the fact that they are enhanced, and they do act fast, too fast to submit a legal mission request.

And since the past missions and cases the Avengers were involved in had been so closely spoken about now, it was clear that if another disastrous threat was raised against the earth, bureaucratic delay may prove catastrophic.

As these conversations were brought up, the Sokovia Accords began to prove ineffective, divisive, and ethically problematic. 

That of course didn’t disprove the possible need for regulation when it came to the Avengers. But, as the public fought back on the accords, that conversation was pushed to the sidelines until the Avengers were released from their cells.

The termination of the Sokovia Accords was a fight that would prove to take time. And while that battle was being taken on, you stayed in Wakanda, with Bucky and Steve. 

It was a new peace you weren’t used to. One that you were scared to accept. But the Wakandans were kind, and did everything in their power to accommodate you three. 

The one thing you were most thankful to them for was their ability to help Bucky.

Wakandan technology was far more advanced than you could ever dream. As a doctor, you felt like you were stepping into your own wet dream. They had moved past the need for something as advanced as a basic computer in the lab. Their screens acted more like holograms and webbed like electric galaxies.

You couldn’t help but drool at the magnificent mapping of Bucky’s nerves and physiological makeup as it glowed before you. Bucky, who laid out on a cushioned table in the lab, bit back a fond snicker as he watched you talk with Shuri.

The first step of helping Bucky was explaining what bits of his medical history you could. Shuri gave you access to a tablet to allow you to write out and demonstrate everything you’d done to him when you were in captivity. 

Your serum, as nervous as you were about it, seemed to be working. Since those first initial doses back in that prison, he hadn’t experienced any symptoms of muscular degeneration. 

As you sat there on the edge of Bucky’s examination table, he told you about the bodies he found in Siberia. He told you about the sunken in look of their skulls, as skin flaked against the bone, leathery and barely clinging on. But only on two of them. 

The three soldiers he fought were in perfect condition, and that he couldn’t explain.

You chewed at your lip, staring down at the chemical formula you were writing out. “It makes sense, honestly.” You muttered. “These illnesses have different effects on each person. Plus, the repeated release and submersion of the cryo chamber had an important effect.”

Bucky listened closely, propping his head up to watch you.

“You were constantly being taken out for missions, for decades. You were being constantly treated and drugged, so the effects of the deterioration were stunted. Some of those soldiers may have just been left in there to rot, with nothing to slow the sickness.” You looked up at him, pausing the scribble of your electronic pencil.

His fond gaze swept over you, from the way you chewed your cheek in thought, to the tight grip you had on your pencil in your focused state. “Makes sense,” he muttered.

You nudged his knee. “Does it?” You lifted a brow skeptically. 

“I may be from a different time, but I can keep up.”

You shrugged. “Hey, early 20th century education wasn’t the best, just gotta check.”

He bumped you with his leg, rolling his eyes. “Shut up.”

Once you finished giving Shuri a background of everything you’d recently done to Bucky, she set to work. She started with questioning Bucky on everything he could remember about the trigger system. 

You could see the way he drew in on himself, his body tightening and rigid. You knew this was hard on him. 

The look in his eye screamed it. He didn’t want to relive those moments. Being held down and restrained, muzzled and tortured. Zapped and cut open, again and again. But he had to do it. If this meant he could never be forced to hurt someone against his will again, he would do it.

But even Shuri was shifting awkwardly as she noted down his descriptions. She was a smart kid, and good at what she did. And like Tony, she always had a sarcastic quip. But the intensity of what Bucky endured, it was unlike anything she’d ever heard of. 

But Shuri liked a challenge. And she wanted to help Bucky. 

Shuri began by analyzing the neurological and psychological triggers Hydra implanted in Bucky, particularly the Russian activation phrase. She worked at isolating the brainwashing patterns in his mind. 

Hydra's programming was a mix of psychological conditioning, neurological implants, and chemical triggers, possibly reinforced with technology.

It soon became obvious that the first thing Shuri could solidly do to help Bucky, was restructure the neural pathways associated with the activation phrases. 

As well as removing any of the harmful plates still inserted in his head.

As awful as it sounded, Bucky agreed without a second thought. Surgery, in depth or not, didn't matter to him. He just wanted it done. He wanted to be sure that nobody could ever control him again. 

So, after the first few days, Bucky was preparing for surgery. 

Steve never left his side. 

Steve was like a constant, hovering shield over Bucky. And god, it warmed your heart. Seeing the pair work at finding each other again was goddamn beautiful.

Steve yanked Bucky into a strong hug outside the surgical wing of the internal Wakandan palace medical bay. He held him close, his jaw tight. 

Something you hadn’t thought about was that Steve still wasn’t used to the medicine of the modern era. In his time, the mortality rate for brain surgery could reach as high as 38-50%. Those weren’t favorable odds.

Steve pulled back, patting Bucky’s shoulder. “They’re not gonna shave your head for this, are they?” 

Bucky huffed a soft laugh and ruffled Steve’s short hair. “They only have to shave an inch or two above my nape, jerk.”

Steve huffed, his top lip disappearing against his teeth. “Good, the long hair’s growing on me.”

You stifled a laugh. 

Bucky glanced at you over his shoulder, his arms withdrawing from around Steve. “You think that’s funny?”

“I was trying to picture you bald.” You bit back a smile 

“Please don’t.” He huffed, turning to you. 

“Too late, it’s already in there.” You tapped against your temple. Bucky caught your wrist and tugged you into a hug. This one was lighter than all those you’ve shared before. Sweeter, not as heavy. Not as wrought with emotion. 

His arms slid around your shoulders. You hugged his middle, your hands stroking his back. Bucky released a quiet breath against the crown of your head. You realized Bucky might be just as scared as Steve about this surgery. 

Far more, actually.

“You’ll be fine,” you muttered, tickling your nails down his spine. He nodded, humming quietly into your hair.

“I know.”

You pulled back, looking up at him. “Trust me, this is definitely the best health care the world’s ever seen.” You grinned softly. Bucky, to your shock, quietly tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. His fingertips lingered on your jaw. 

“Yeah,” he swallowed. 

The doors behind him slid open and Shuri popped her head out. “All ready when you are, bud.” She grinned.

Bucky slowly released you and pulled back. You stepped out of his space and absently touched where his fingers left goosebumps. Steve gave Bucky a knowing smile and patted his shoulder again. 

“We’ll be waiting.”

Bucky glanced at you over his shoulder. “I know.”

A/N: Can you tell I can't stop using run-on sentences? If you can, don't tell me. Anyways! Hope ya'll liked this one. It almost killed me to write because I am so determined to write this perfectly and logistically.

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