#so he got GLOVES instead. ok

[marksman-ofthe-mist]

i am NOT gonna play WAR with you bruise

[minionwater]

this is a good six months or so old but a while back a bunch of friends n I got so mad at the wasted potential in hh designs that I redesigned a bunch of them. this is one of the only ones I still like (probably just bc angel’s previous design is impossible to make less congruous) so you may have it now. I tried to stick to the show’s style as a challenge n it’s a lot harder than you’d think. the full List Of Things I Changed is in the tags :)

[oceantornadoo]

bad day (simon riley x reader, best friends to lovers)

honestly, you should have seen it coming. staying in a safe house with four men who have never ending stomachs? but today, it was the last straw.

“you ate my last cookie?”

soap’s face dropped, jaw open. your voice was on the verge of breaking, tears forming in your eyes. you never showed this much vulnerability in front of the team, and he was flabbergasted. he shot a look at gaz, who was equally as confused. “‘m sorry, bonnie, i didnae ken-“ you pushed your hands on the table, shoving your chair back and out. “it’s ok. gonna take a nap.” you were wiping your eyes furiously, feeling unstable. first you got your period four days early (asking price to add pads to the shopping list was something you never wanted to experience again), then you couldn’t find your heating pad, and now your cookies were out? maybe it was the hormones, but you were done.

“oof.” you had ran into a thick wall. scratch that, the wall was moving. your vision was blurred by tears you refused to shed that you didn’t even realize it was your closest friend ghost. “dove?” you hiccuped. why did he always have to be so nice to you? gruff and mean-sounding to everyone else, but an avid listener and sweet talker when it came to you. “jus’ trying to get to my room, didn’t see you. sorry l.t..” you tried to maneuver around him, but unfortunately a 6’4 machine of a man did not move easily.

“why you cryin’, baby?” shit, simon did not mean to call you that. he did not want to have this conversation right now, especially when you looked like you were about to break down. you were always so strong, having to work ten times harder as a woman in the military, and he was always careful to not undermine you or your struggles. unfortunately, that landed him firmly in the friendzone for the past year, unable to confess his feelings without breaking your trust. he maneuvered you to the closest room, which happened to be his. he sat down on the bed, intending to sit you down next to him, but instead you still stood, walking in between his parted legs.

“‘m sorry, just on my period and everything hurts and it’s all hitting at once.” your eyes were red, avoiding his. he could see you were in pain, and as someone who had endured enemy torture and the hardest forms of training, his heart never hurt as much as it did now. he reached a gloved hand towards your face, brushing away your tears. his other hand came to your lower belly, rubbing circles over your clothes. “shhh, ‘s okay. you wanna sit down?” you shook your head in disagreement. you felt like a child, but you were never allowed to be weak outside of your own room. for some reason today, you let simon riley see you weak.

you walked around his body and laid on top of his covers, curling into a fetal position. he let you get comfy, finding a way to lay down that lessened your cramps. finally, you were done moving. “si?” you never called him that unless you absolutely needed him. he got up and locked the door, not wanting to disturb your peace. “yeah, baby?” might as well use it now, you hadn’t complained. if anything your face softened when he said it, and simon riley would die a thousand deaths just to see a moment of relief on your face. “will you lay with me?”

he eagerly stripped out of his gear, climbing on top of his bed to lay down with you. he placed a hand on your arm, letting you choose where you wanted him. you dragged his hand under your sweatshirt, using it like a heating pad for your cramps. you let out a soft moan of pleasure and he answered it with a low growl, pulling you into him by the stomach. his thumb caressed your bare skin with small circles, memorizing every dip and valley. he strived to commit the moment to memory, not knowing if you’d ever be this vulnerable again. “feel better, dove?” you nodded, finally succumbing to sleep that had evaded you the past night. he smiled under his mask, placing a small kiss to the back of your head.

finally you were at peace, and all because of him.

[fools-ramblings-and-whatnot]

Drabble: Hand-me-Downs

Yuu got isekaid to NRC with only the clothes on their backs. The only extra clothing they had when they got to Ramshackle were the uniforms from Crowley, the standard NRC class uniform, Pe clothes, a labcoat and Ceremonial robes, all ill-fitting and smelling dust.

When they got to cleaning the dilapitated dorm they found some extra fabric or clothing and they made some shirts.

Ace was the first one to give them so extra clothes, a hoodie that he brought but never wore. Then next was Deuce with a new shirt his mother sent over that was not his size.

When Yuu ran out of clothing because the rain came before their clothes dried, they'd wear some of Heartslabyul's shirts that Ace or Deuce lent them.

At some point other dorms caught on on Whats happening and joined in.

Riddle would give Yuu and "extra" scarf he had that he didn't use, its cold out Yuu should protect themselves from the cold. Trey would give a nice hat to protect themselves from the sun. Cater happily throwing in some comfy mittens he found on sale but didn't "fit him". Everything , ofcourse, in Heartslabyul's signature colors.

The Savanaclaw guys were different, instead of clothing Leona would tell Yuu to take away the trash littering his dorm room, and by trash he means that extra embroidered duvets his brother has sent him. He doesn't want it. Jack gives them extra new towels he had on stock , while Ruggie stitches them a doll he said just happened to look like a mini-grim that he was planning to sell. All of these went to Yuu's bedroom.

Yuu was wary from accepting anything from Octavinelle but it was hard to say no to them. Azul handed a coat he didn't use anymore. Floyd practically pushed into their hands a pair of pants that were far to long, but they could always stitch it up.Jade offered some gloves, but unlike Cater's that was for colder climates, the gloves Jade gave was for everyday use. Yuu tried not to think how it can be second hand when it fits them perfectly (Jade and Yuu definitely had different hand sizes).

Kalim was as generous as he can get and he had a lot of stuff to spare, like his signature cardigan. It was so obvious Yuu got it from Kalim that it got some students staring. Jamil gave Yuu some extra pajamas he had lying around, it was large and comfy and Yuus favorite sleepwear.

Vil gave Yuu like, 7 pairs of silken pillow cases. He said he got it as PR in the past and it would be a waste not to put it to good use. He also got them some extra handkerchiefs so they can be more aware of their messy appearance. Rook gave them his extra dress shirt, which was far too large but beggars can't be choosers. Epel gave them a knitted sweater from his home town and some earmuffs.

Idia was against the idea, but Ortho pursuaded him. Rather than giving hand me downs he gives Yuu some brand new Eyecovers for sleeping, it had a printed picture of a game character on it so it must be a freebie from one of his online escapades. Still, its the thought that counts. Ortho was the one who decided for his brother and added a hoodie Idia didn't use in the pile. (much to Idia's mortification the first time he saw Yuu wearing it in the hallways, he didn't take it back tho)

Lilia gave them a large extra Diasomnia outer coat, which was part of the dorm uniform and several band shirts. Silver gave them an extra pillow. And Sebek, handed them an extra labcoat, which again was far too large but it can be mended so its ok. Malleus took some time thinking of what hand me down to give them, which hw shouldn't really because Yuu was happy with anything he gave, but alas Malleus wanted it to be special. (For a handme down, really?)

He wanted to take Yuu's situation in mind, what article of clothing or bedding did they need?

In the end he settled giving the thing he thought Yuu needed the most...

Which so happened to be a fancy bed canopy with gold and black accents.Malleus says its good for sleeping, to keep the light and noise out.It may also be a bit enchanted to give the owner a goodnight's rest.

It looked so out of place in Yuu's little room.And they had to build the foundation to hold it up.

So that's how Yuu got several hand me downs from their friends, clothing and bedding.

Until Ace lent them his cologne, which started a whole new wave of hand me downs, each person trying to one up each other in giving Yuu a scent that also "coincidentally" smells like one of the dorms or a dorm member.

[captainfern]

Reader and ghost fake dating for a mission with a twist.It’s a masquerade ball so Ghost wears a fancy little mask instead of his usual skull. Reader gets worked up seeing him in a tux with his hair and part of his face out so they ditch their mics and abandon the mission to go fuck in a bathroom. Just a thought… 🤭🤭

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

Master of Puppets

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader

[“Master of Puppets” by Metallica]

[18+]

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

• summary - you and ghost getting all dressed up for a ball ends in you and ghost fucking in the bathroom lol. • rating - 18+ • wordcount - 3.6k • warnings - fem!reader, unprotected piv, semi-public sex, handjobs idk, ghost is a little possessive of his sergeant, strong language

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

ok you requested this while my requests were closed and usually i just delete them BUT you're lucky i'm horny for this idea

i'm imagining him in a peaky blinders style three-piece suit and i'm going insane why do i do this to myself

You weren't a stranger to the "fake dating" type of mission. You had done it with Gaz just a few months prior to infiltrate enemy operations at a charity event in Dubai.

So, when that exact type of mission came around again, you were prepared for what it would take.

"Playing boyfriend-girlfriend again, Garrick?" You quipped at Gaz a few minutes before Price's usual briefing.

He smiled, but shook his head. "Not me, sarge."

You made a face of confusion, before Gaz threw his thumb over his shoulder, pointing directly at Ghost. Ghost raised his head from the files he had been reading.

"Seriously?" You gaped, surprised.

Ghost shook his head slowly, muttering out a sarcastic comment, "Dial down the excitement, sergeant."

Now, you stood in the bathroom of your hotel room, smoothing your hands down the fabric of your dress, admiring yourself. It was an absolutely stunning dress that clung to you in all the right ways. Designer label, too, leaving you wondering how the hell Price got his hands on it. Probably Laswell.

There was a light knock on your door before it opened, and you walked into the bedroom so you could slip your heels on. Soap and Price entered, dressed impeccably in suits. You stood at the foot of the bed as they walked in, and you admired them with a big smile.

"You two look very handsome." You said.

"Thank you," Price said, adjusting his tie. "You look absolutely radiant, sarge."

You laughed, sitting on the edge of the bed so you could fasten your heels to your feet, as well as strap your handgun to the strap around your upper thigh.

Soap gaped at you, eyes raking down the entirety of your body while you exposed a leg, tightening the holster around it.

"You're smokin', lass," he said, shock edging his words. "Ghost won't be able to focus."

You rolled your eyes, sliding your gun into place before standing up, settling your dress over top of it, trying your best to make the imprint not obvious.

The three of you left the hotel ten minutes later. A black SUV with tinted windows waited outside, and Soap opened the door for you. Price grabbed hold of your arm before you slid inside, leaning close to your ear.

"Remember, you and Ghost are there to get intel. You don't engage with any of the targets, understood? Soap and I will be nearby if you run into any trouble."

"Understood." You nodded, before clambering into the black SUV. Soap mouthed good luck to you before he turned away, just as Ghost walked slowly down the steps, Gaz a few metres behind.

Your eyes widened. He looked fucking good.

A black three piece suit, complete with the waistcoat and everything. He wasn't wearing gloves, exposing large, strong hands with prominent veins and silver rings around his fingers. What shocked you the most, however, was the silver mask covering most of the top half of his face. It shined in the light of the hotel entrance. As he neared the car, you could see his lips, his jawline, his chin, scars littering the flesh.

You pressed your thighs together.

Price said something to Ghost, and then Soap did as well. Finally, Ghost looked into the car where you waited patiently, and you watched as his lips parted in what could be best described as a small gasp.

"Sergeant..." He trailed off, taking in your dress, your face, your body, you.

"Lieutenant," you nodded at him. "You look nice. Very dapper."

He grunted deeply, sliding into the seat next to you. His body radiated heat that you could feel. He smelt good, too. You bit your lip as his strong thigh pressed against yours.

With a final few good lucks from the boys, the car was pulling away from the hotel and heading for the venue. You and Ghost didn't exchange much conversation, but as you looked out the window, you felt the heat of his gaze on you. You turned your head, catching his bright eyes following the curves of your dress.

You ignored the flip in your stomach at the weight of desire in his eyes. "Like what you see?" You joked, and his eyes snapped up to look at you.

He cleared his throat, looking anywhere but you, before he fished something out of his jacket pocket. He held it out to you, still not quite meeting your eyes. It was a silver mask, much like his, but a bit smaller, with finer details carved around the edges. It was really pretty.

"It's a masquerade ball, so I figured you'd need this." Ghost grumbled, retracting his hands straight away as you took the mask from him.

"Matching?" You smiled.

"I figured... I mean— it was Soap's idea, so if you don't want... you don't, you know—"

"I love it, sir, I do," you said softly, and he sighed deeply through his nose. You then angled your body away from him, pressing the mask to your face with the ribbons dangling either side. "Do you mind tying it for me?"

Ghost said nothing, but took hold of the two ribbons and brought them to the back of your head. He carefully tied a bow, keeping your mask secure against your face. You could feel the soft rhythm of his breathing against your back, and the warmth of his bare hands near the base of your neck.

"Done?" You asked, looking at yourself in the windows reflection.

Ghost swallowed thickly, ignoring something stirring deep within the pit of his stomach. "Yeah."

•º•

You felt somewhat confident walking into the event with Ghost on your arm. All eyes turned towards the handsomely dressed man, clearly well-built beneath the suit and obviously attractive beneath the silver mask. He captured this attention like a natural, which you couldn't come to grips with. He was so calm, collected. You felt as though you were going to burst into tears at any moment.

But you didn't. You wouldn't. Not with the way Ghost circled an arm around your lower back, a hand pressed hot above your arse. Not with the way he kept you pressed to your side, his towering frame shielding you from at least one line of prying eyes.

But, you felt eyes on you too. Eyes on the pretty girl next to the man with the silver mask. They admired you from close and afar, watching the way your dress dipped around your body, and the way your silver mask glittered under the light of the crystal chandeliers.

"Alright, sarge?" Ghost whispered, thumb rubbing circles on your lower back.

"Yep," you squeaked out, the movement of his hand making your body grow hot. "You good?"

"Mhm." He hummed, already surveying the room.

—Okay, you two. Try and get as much information out of these rich-listers as you can—, Price's voice filtered in through your earpiece. —I would say don't draw attention to yourselves, but it seems it's a bit late for that. You're probably the youngest, most attractive pair in that room tonight—.

"Aw, cap, you flatter us." You joked, snagging two flutes of champagne from the tray of a passing waitress.

—Just don't get distracted—. Price grumbled, before his voice was gone from your ear.

You held a glass of champagne out for Ghost, who just stared at it. You were already raising yours to your lips, drinking the bubbling liquid in small sips. Finally, he took it from you, but didn't drink.

"Shouldn't be drinking on the job." He said gruffly as you finished your drink, placing the empty glass on a nearby table.

"Says who?" You question, taking the second flute from him since he obviously wasn't going to drink it.

"Says me."

"Pfft, you're not the boss of me." You quipped, downing the second glass of champagne. It was mostly to steel your nerves— which were on fire with anxiety.

He rolled his eyes. "I am the boss of you."

"Oh yeah."

•º•

An hour or so went by and you found yourself sat at the bar. It was a pretty place, decked out in gold and glittering crystal lights. You'd spent the past hour gathering as much information about your rich-list targets as you could, with said information being filtered back through your ear-piece, directly back to Gaz in the hotel room.

Ghost had vanished to investigate further, leaving you alone at the bar, a small glass of water in your hand. You'd thrown back a few flutes of champagne and you realised that water was probably your best bet for the rest of the night.

"What's a pretty lady like you sitting here without company?" Came a voice behind you, and you rolled your eyes.

What a cringe line. Embarrassing.

You plastered a polite smile across your face as a man took the barstool beside you, a simple black mask over his features.

"My company's just gone outside for a smoke." You lied naturally, smile not breaking.

"And he's left you all alone?"

"Mhm, but I'm perfectly fine being by myself," you said. "But it was nice to meet you." You finished with the hopes that he'd take the fucking hint and leave.

He didn't take the hint.

"Well, at least let me by you a drink." He offered.

You shook your head. "I'm fine, thank you."

He took that surprisingly well, but his stare was lingering and uncomfortable as it travelled down the length of your body. You felt goosebumps ripple across your exposed flesh, a grimace threatening to overtake your practised smile.

"You look stunning, by the way," he said. "Absolutely beautiful. Are you sure I can't buy you a drink?"

You sighed. "The drinks are free and, no thank you."

"Are you sure—?"

You felt Ghost's presence before he even spoke.

You felt the looming warmth press to your back, the tower of mass that overshadowed your frame. You couldn't help but lean back a bit, his chest and upper abdomen pressing firmly along your spine. Then, a built arm draped over your shoulders, wrapping just above your tits and pulling you closer against him.

"Can I help you?" Ghost asked, voice even, accent thick.

The man had to crane his head to look up at Ghost. "Just keeping the pretty lady company."

Ghost grunted. "I suggest you move on. Keep someone else company, why don't you."

The man swallowed nervously. "I didn't—"

"Go." Ghost ordered simply, and the man was scurrying away before you could even blink.

You looked up at Ghost, top of your head leaning against his chest. "Thanks." You muttered, waiting for him to let go of you.

He didn't. His hand and arm held you closer, his eyes dragging down your face and your body. His other hand came to rest on your jaw, his thumb trailing along the bone. Then it swiped upwards, along your cheek before pressing to your lips, smearing the shimmering gloss.

You were frozen.

"Ghost—?"

"You're the prettiest woman in this fucking room, you know that?" He muttered lowly, thumb skirting along the seam of your lips.

You didn't answer, just stared up at him. His rings were cold against the side of your face.

The moment was thick with tension, and heat pooled in your belly. You felt his chest rise and fall, a bit quicker than it did in the car ride to the event. His pupils were blown, too, between the slots in the mask, and he ran the point of his tongue across his bottom lip.

—Aww, how romantic—, Soap's voice burst in your ear, and both you and Ghost jolted.

"Fucking hell, Johnny," Ghost cursed, grip on your face tighter. "I'm turning this fucking mic off. I'm sick of hearing your voice."

Soap laughed. —You wouldn't dare—

Ghost switched his ear-piece off, before closing his fingers around yours too. He switched it off, and Soap's voice died in your ear.

You gasped. "Ghost—"

He hauled you off of the seat while you were mid-sentence, planting you on your feet with your chest now pressed to his.

"Follow me." He growled.

You could feel his cock hardening in his suit trousers.

•º•

Ghost locked the door of the bathroom behind you, before he was slamming you against it, hiking your legs around his waist. His mouth smashed to yours, and you gasped, barely having enough time to respond before his tongue was surging inwards.

The kiss choked you, full of emotion. Ghost's large frame towering over you, caging you to the door. One of his hands gripped your thigh, keeping your body pinned between his and the door. His other hand gripped the underside of your jaw, angling your face so he could press deeper into the kiss.

The material of the silver masks you were both wearing bumped together with each desperate movement of your mouths. You were able to respond now; winding your arms around his shoulders, delving one hand into his hair, pulling his face closer to yours. Ghost groaned into the kiss as you tugged at the roots of his hair, and he pulled away to look down at you.

"Such a tease," he muttered, before dragging his lips across your jaw and down your neck. "Wearing this pretty dress, too."

His lips found the strap on your shoulder, teeth skimming the material before he was kissing along your collarbone. You angled your face upwards so he could suck along the soft expanse of your throat. He still gripped your jaw firmly as he did so, and he moved your head himself when he wanted to nip at the sensitive skin below your ear.

"Fucking stunning," he said, breathless, before he was stepping back to get a better look at you. You squirmed under his gaze, drawing your thighs together as your core gained a heartbeat. You whined, and he chuckled lowly, dropping your leg off of his waist. "So pretty."

"Simon..." You pleaded, his real name slipping past your lips before you could stop yourself. Your body was simmering hot with arousal, your core aching just by the way Ghost was looking at you.

Not to mention how fucking good he looked in that suit.

Clearly, you were having much the same effect on him.

He huffed deeply, unbuttoning his trousers, his hard cock imprinted through the material. You swallowed as you watched his trousers drop slightly as he pulled his cock out of his boxers, eyes raking up and down your body. And you weren't even showing anything yet.

"Acting like a Victorian man," you couldn't help but joke. "Seeing a sliver of shoulder and a bit of ankle's got you worked up?"

You laughed lightly, seeing Ghost roll his eyes behind the mask. He grunted, the closest thing to a verbal reply, as he gripped his cock and moved closer to you. Your breath hitched as he closed the gap, kissing you hard.

His cock pressed to your abdomen, warm and hard through the expensive material of your dress. You whined softly against Ghost's tongue, moving a hand to enclose around his length also.

Ghost choked on a low moan, pulling out of the kiss to rest his forehead against yours. The both of you staying like that, eyes directed down between your bodies as you gripped his cock, hand right beside his own.

You used the beads of pre-cum pearling at his slit to ease your movements, fisting a hand up and down, making Ghost grumble deep in his chest. Foreheads still pressed together, you both watched as you jerked him off. His hand remained tight at the base, unmoving despite your best efforts to encourage him.

The bathroom was filled with his soft noises; noises that ignited the fire in your belly further, your core throbbing, soaking your underwear. You hummed softly at him, some kind of a whine, as you pumped him faster, feeling him twitch in your hand.

He groaned and grunted softly, his breaths deep and laboured. His cock twitched with each of your movements, drops of pre rolling in a steady pattern along a vein. You collected them in the grooves of your palm, your movements sliding, sending soft, wet clicking sounds into the bathroom as well.

It felt like Ghost was entranced with the way he was looking at your hand moving along his cock. So when he felt his orgasm creeping up the back of his spine, he internally cursed.

He grabbed your wrist and pried your hand from his cock with a hiss, screwing his eyes closed as the feeling of release seeping away. He'd just edged himself, and he didn't even fucking mean too.

"Fuck, gotta be inside you," he muttered, kissing your forehead as he changed positions. "Not gonna last like this."

He hoisted you up, wrapping your legs around him. You helped him wriggle the material of your dress around your waist, and he hummed in satisfaction. You braced one hand around his broad shoulders, the other on the door at your side for stability.

"Fucking hell..." Ghost ran a finger up your slit over your underwear. The material was damp with your arousal, and the feeling of his finger made you squirm in his hold.

"Simon, please—"

"Absolutely soaked..." He wasn't really listening to you. He was too busy playing with the material of your underwear, rubbing up your folds and feeling the way your arousal soaked through.

You quickly moved your hand from the door and fisted a handful of his hair, urging his head to look up. He grunted, gritting his teeth as he finally looked you dead in the eye while you tugged at his hair.

"Simon." You said, commanding as much of his attention as you could.

He licked his lips. "Hm?"

"Fuck me."

"Christ," he whispered, the hand stroking you through your underwear hooking beneath the material. He simply pulled it to the side, exposing your wet cunt. His pupils dilated. "Fucking Christ."

"Don't bring Christ into this." You joked again, and Ghost grunted deeply in response, giving you no warning before he was easing his cock into you.

You spluttered around a moan as his cock filled you abruptly, your hands moving to grip Ghost's shoulders tightly. Your head fell forward, resting against his chest, and you moaned loudly.

His cock nudged that spot inside you that had your cunt fluttering around him, making him groan. He grit his teeth to restrict most of the noises, but he couldn't help himself. Not with the way your cunt was squeezing his cock, all wet and warm and tight.

"Come on, sergeant, come on," Ghost whispered, moving his hips back and slamming into you again. He began to build pace and rhythm with each one of his thrusts. "Let me hear those pretty noises. Come on."

You moaned again, high and breathy as the head of his cock punched the air out of your fucking lungs. He fucked you against the door, the wet sounds of your arousal spurring his movements further.

"Simon, gotta be quiet. Someone m-might hear— ah, fuck—" You bit down on your bottom lip to stifle the moans being torn from your throat by the way Ghost was fucking you.

"Let them hear," he whispered in your ear. "Let them hear how good I make you feel, eh? Let them hear how good you are at taking my cock."

Your head fell backwards against the wooden door, eyes rolling as a string of whimpers were pulled from your lips. Ghost rutted into you, grunting softly as he did, listening to the sounds from your mouth and your cunt. He held your hips, keeping you pinned to the door and unable to move so he could slam deeper and deeper inside you.

You arousal was pooling around his cock with each thrust, now dripping down the insides of your thighs. You could faintly feel your underwear in the crease of your thigh, pushed haphazardly out of the way to make room for Ghost. But you didn't care— you were too focused on the huge fucking cock that was inside you right now.

You couldn't help the whines and soft moans that left your mouth. Your body was burning up, stomach drawing tight as your impending orgasm grew more intense with each rut of Ghost's cock.

"Simon..." You moaned, and Ghost had to compose himself so he didn't come right then and there. You sounded so good, so fucking pretty moaning his name like that.

"Yeah, baby? Feel's good?" He murmured against your skin as he kissed along your jaw. "You wanna come?"

You nodded, fingernails scratching down his shoulders. You whimpered desperately, legs quivering in his hold.

"Let go, pretty girl. Come 'round my cock... that's it."

You came with a loud moan of his name, and he slammed his mouth to yours to swallow it whole. Your cunt spasmed around his cock as he fucked you roughly through your orgasm, heat blooming across your skin. He pulled his face away from yours, lips brushing as he panted, chasing his own high.

"F-fuck," he whispered, releasing inside you, followed by a carnal groan into the curve of your neck. He filled you, hot and thick, and the sensations of it flooding your womb made you close your eyes. He didn't pull out for a while. He just held you to the door, breathing deeply. "Alright, sergeant?"

"Yeah... fine..." You breathed. "We should, um, probably get back to the mission."

"Give me a minute." He groaned, still deep inside you, making you laugh.

•º•

When you did finally leave the bathroom, you made yourself look as presentable as you could before you left a couple of minutes after Ghost. You shoved your ear-piece back into your ear and turned it on. Immediately, you were greeted by Soap's voice.

—Good bathroom break, sarge?—

"Shut up, Soap."

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

lazy writing sorry i'm tired lol

[sugawarassoulmate]

something about sugawara just screams free use to me 🥴

omg it feels so long since i've used these pictures lmao

word count: 685

cw: fem!reader, dub-con, consent implied, free use, public sex, somnophilia, oral (f receiving), minors dni

he just likes having you whenever and wherever he wants. it's hard to tell him no when he makes you feel so good.

you could be talking on the phone with a friend and here comes suga settling himself between your legs. rolling your eyes, you already know what's on his mind and try to focus on the conversation when you feel him take off your shorts and underwear to eat you out.

it's hard to maintain focus when he's sucking your clit like he needs it to survive but he'll scold you for hanging up on your friend so rudely.

but he won't stop until you're whining on the phone or you end the call and buck into his mouth to get yourself off. he has a habit of torturing you that way.

at least that's better than the time he walked into the dressing room where you were trying on clothes.

"kou—" you whispered-yelled but it didn't stop suga from lifting up your skirt and pushing your panties aside.

"you looked so pretty showing me all your outfits," he said, stroking his cock before sinking into the warmth of your cunt. "you'll let me play with you a little bit, yeah?"

he doesn't give you much time to think before he starts fucking you right there in the fitting room.

suga covers your mouth so you can't protest - or cry out from the pleasure and alert the closest employee.

"we should keep this dress, baby," he says sweetly, tugging at the top to make your breasts spill out. "it fits you so well. like a glove."

he hits that spot that turns your legs into jelly and, even with his hand on your mouth, a shrill cry escapes you.

suga slows down his thrust, never fully stopping, when he hears the quiet sounds of footsteps outside the door. "is everything alright?" the associate asks with a knock.

"we're fine! she just got her hair stuck in a zipper," he said confidently. even behind a door, he can still charm anyone he meets.

"ok, if you need any help, i'll be around!" the employee says before walking away.

you're not sure if it's the thrill of being caught or your embarrassment that eggs suga on but that brief interaction just makes him fuck you harder.

he's at his most devious when he catches you sleeping on the couch, a paused youtube video that has long since been forgotten on the tv.

this happens a lot. you'll take naps during the day when you're too tired from cooking, cleaning, or doing your own work while you wait for sugawara to come home.

when suga catches you in these moments, his favorite thing to do is position you on your back and pull your shorts down.

he never tries to be discreet - suga enjoys waking you up with his cock. he loves seeing your sweet face contort in pleasure even in slumber.

"feels good doesn't it baby," he whispers into your skin, fucking you just as hard and deep as he would if you were conscious. "making me happy even when you're sleepy, i'm so lucky."

suga doesn't just stop at fucking you, he's rubbing his fingers against your clit and using his free hand to pull your top down to suck at your tits.

he won't stop until you've woken up, which usually happens when you're about to cum. you'll start breathing heavily and paw at suga's arms in a desperate attempt to grasp onto something.

"k-kou? kou—oh god," you whine, thighs trapping suga as pleasure racks through your still sleepy body.

you came around him, body shaking the entire time and suga could live off of it. he loves having you as his plaything that he can dump his cum into over and over again.

suga doesn't bother cleaning you up after both of you come. usually, he would but instead, he pulls your panties back on and kisses you.

"get some rest, babe. gonna fuck you again in an hour," he says and suga has always been a man of his word.

©sugawarassoulmate 2023 all rights reserved - please do not repost/translate my work on other platforms!

[kentogetsmewetter]

GYNECOLOGIST GOJO!

｡°✩Synopsis: head cannons about gojo being pervy gyno who fingers you in his office.

⋆｡°✩Contents: fingering, dirtytalk, praise,

⋆｡°✩A/N: might write a one shot about this idk

gynecologist gojo! who, as soon as you walk into his office, starts flirting with you talking about how beautiful you are and how lucky he is that your his patient

gynecologist gojo! who tells you to spread your legs wide open so he can see all of you rubbing his hands up in down your thighs as he takes a look

gynecologist gojo!who groans when seeing your pussy for the first time a small "fuck" he mumbles underneath his breath knowing he needs to have you.

gynecologist gojo! who feels his dick getting hard at just the sight of your pussy

gynecologist gojo! who can't help but to rub his thumb up and down your folds, his dick getting harder watching your slick accumulate on his latex black gloves

gynecologist gojo! who doesnt warn you as you soon feel his fingers playing with the bud of your clit circling it as fast as he can waiting to see your face lose control as you try your best to control yourself and reactions.

gynecologist gojo! who thrust his fingers deeply into your now wet cunt having your squirm all over the table

gynecologist gojo! whose long slender fingers continuously ram deeply into your gspot letting out " your pussy feels so good." "mhm yea fuck that feels good your clenching so hard around me." "such a good girl you're doing great at this." "gotta make you're having no problems down there."

gynecologist gojo! who says your pussy is so so so tight he knows a good way to help stretch you out if you let him

gynecologist gojo! who has the biggest smile on his face when you cum all over his gloves your cum being able to be seen easily as it has a contrast in color compared to his dark gloves

gynecologist gojo! who praises you so much when you cum on his fingers "such a good girl." "can't get enough of you" "one more time I know you got one more in you." "need you creaming all over my dick like that next time"

gynecologist gojo! who stuffs his fingers in your mouth telling you to clean off the mess you made and you comply your tounge swirling around his fingers piercing blue eyes staring into you as you do so

gynecologist gojo!who tells you not to worry about anything and that it's all a part of the procedure, but you should come back again tomorrow so he can make sure you're doing ok

gynecologist gojo! who after you leave immediately starts stoking his dick with his hands moaning out your name wishing it was your hand, mouth, cunt anything instead of his hand as he cums the most he ever has getting his cum all over his clothing leaving for the day with you all on his mind.

[writteninkat]

Visions | Diluc x Reader

synopsis: You love how much of a gentleman your fiance is. You swear on Barbatos. Yet, there are moments when you long for him to be more assertive, to take instead of asking, to lead instead of following, to claim instead of requesting. This desire consumes your thoughts so intensely that it even starts to invade your dreams.

a/n: so. :) heyyyaaa i'm baaack,, anyways ending was finished in a hurry cause im tired and i wanted to post this asap rocky k bye

wc: idk but it's pretty lengthy i think i yapped tew much

warnings: bondage, mentions of cheating(no one actually cheated ok?), smut, Diluc has a god complex

navigation

Today has been extremely draining for you; you took on four commissions, four bounties, traveled to Liyue, took on more jobs there—all you wanna do is get in bed with Diluc and sleep until you're forty.

As you make your way past the grapevine, you can't help the ominous feeling that you're being watched. No, followed.

You turn around scanning the area behind you with narrowed eyes. Before you let out a nervous breath, you catch a dark figure in the corner of your eye, causing you to choke up in surprise.

What the hell?

You narrow your eyes once more, slowly reaching for your sword strapped on your back. Just as you unsheathe the blade, the figure runs towards the woods, eliciting you to sprint towards them.

If they think you're someone easy to scare, then they've got you all wrong. Spooked, yes. Uneasy, for sure. But scared? Ha! You fought the Electro Archon. It'll take a lot for something to scare you.

You pass by multiple trees, jumping over bushes and frightened squirrels, leaping on branches and swinging yourself from tree to tree before dropping back on the ground.

Shit!

You feel sweat trickling down your spine as you heave for air, looking around you. You lost them. Maybe today's been more tiring for you than you thought.

You let out a sigh, squeezing the handle of your sword before clicking your tongue, disappointment seeping throught your body.

You turn around, about to take a step until you hear the swoosh of the air behind you, quickly followed by the swift sound of a blade hitting the bark of a tree. You jump, about to turn around but unable to. Confusion decorates your brows in a furrow as you look around, your eye catching the glint of the throwing knife. The blade is pierced deeply on the wood and as you continue to study it, you notice a piece of your clothing is stick with it.

Fuck.

As you busy yourself with trying to undo the knife, another knife is stabbed on the bark, this time, a hand is gripping the handle. You feel your heart sink as your eyes trail from the gloved hand, down to the covered forearm—this person must consistently work out as you eye the jacket struggling to keep itself from ripping when your gaze reaches their biceps. You flick your gaze up to their face, swallowing harshly at the sight of their white and gold mask that covers their eyes.

"Oh what the hell." You growl, trying to push your fiance off of you. "Diluc what the fuck are you doing? You gave me a fright!"

As you continue pressing your hands against his chest, your assurance slowly breaks apart. What's he doing?

"Move." You spit harshly, too tired to play his games.

Frustration begins to claw at you when your fiance doesn't move. At all. You let out a huff, about to give him an earful, but something catches your eye.

In the corner window of dawn winery in the upper floor, you see a shadow moving about. You can distinctly make out the ponytail, the body structure, and the posture.

Your eyes return to the person holding you against the tree, the feeling of fright comes back to you tenfold, engulfing in a tsunami of cold sweat and weakened limbs.

The person infront of you isn't your fiance.

As you mentally shake yourself, you carefully lift your leg, ready to kick him in the nuts but the stranger reads your actions, pressing his entire body against yours. You open your mouth, ready to scream but he covers it with his gloved hand, muffling your attempts.

He slowly moves his mouth near your ear, his rough breathing hot and harsh. "I love it when someone so strong trembles for me." He mutters, the feeling of his warm, wet tounge gliding over the shell of your ear causing you to shudder. He chuckles deeply at your reaction, softly nipping at the tip of your ear.

This is so wrong. This is so so wrong. Your fiance's right there and you're here shaking against another man pressed to you. Diluc is right inside your home and you—

"What's this?" The man's voice snaps you back into reality. Your worries caused you to ignore his other hand letting go of his knife and slowly make its way down your stomach, bunching your dress right above your legs.

"Such a whore." He whispers, forcing you to look down. Your breath shakes as you take note of the wetness on his fingers.

Pale. He has pale hands, so his skin colour must be on the paler side.

Everyone and their vision knows you're simply deluding yourself by making these observations. You're making grounds on why you're allowing this to happen. You're trying to reason with no one.

"You like this? You wanna be taken?" His fingers return to the drenched place between your legs and you try, you try so hard, to muffle your pathetic whimpers, but they all pour out as if they have a mind of their own.

His fingers move in tight circles on your clit. Your breathing turns harsher and harsher. Before you know it, your hips are rocking on their own and you've fisted the stranger's suit in front of you.

"Look at you using my hand to get off like a pathetic village whore." Your moans spill from your lips, your hips moving faster and faster as you try to seize your high. "Such a fucking slut, letting a complete stranger fuck you with his fingers when your fiance's right there."

That snaps you out of your lustful haze.

No.

You can't do this to Diluc.

You push the masked stranger's hand away, reattempting to shove him off of you again but he simply clicks his tongue, grabbing your wrists and pushing them on the space above you.

"Tsk tsk tsk." He shakes his head. "You get to have your fun but I don't? Seems a bit unfair to me." He frowns as you sneer at him.

"Let go of me and fuck off. Once I tell my fiance about this—"

"Diluc, will not be able to do anything after I've used you."

Oh great Barbatos above, forgive me for ruining my knickers at what this fucker had just said.

"He'll kill you." You spit, the glare you're wearing amusing the sicko even further. He grins widely, canines showing.

"And I still would have killed this pussy."

Oh, hardy har har. This idiot's got jokes.

"I'll join him and enjoy watching the life bleed out of you very, very slowly." You taunt, grinding your molars.

"And I'll enjoy watching my cum drip from this pretty pussy," You hear the clanking of a belt buckle and the familiar sound of a zipper being undone. "Very, very slowly." he whispers.

He uses his leg to part your thighs.

"What are you—" He cuts you off with the feeling of his bulbous head pressing against your folds. You stare into his crimson orbs before he pushes himself inside you, stretching you completely.

"Ah, fuck!" You cry out, euphoria slowly slithering itself through your vains, making their way up your head as the stranger slowly pumps himself inside you.

"This pussy's such a good girl, taking me, making room for me." He hooks your leg around his waist as he abandons any ounce of consideration he had for you and quickens his pace, his ungloved hand pressing and massaging and prodding—

"Oh Archon!" You hear your voice echo throughout the land and you scream a silent prayer for your fiance.

Diluc, my love, please forgive me. I tried to stop him, I swear I did! But he just feels—

"So good!" You yell out in euphoria, nearing the edge.

Just as you jump off of it, the stranger lifts off his mask. You're face to face with the same man you mentally apologized to, but your confusion is drowned in your pleasure.

"Cum with me my love. You can do it." He whispers as you press your lips on his, your moans and whimpers muffled against him.

Your back arches as electricity runs down your spine. Your walls clamp down on your fiance's dick as your head lightens. Your legs buckle, your body tembling against Diluc.

"Love... My love." He whispers.

"What?"

"Love, wake up. I think you have a fever."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Love, please."

Your eyes snap open as your breathing slowly calms. You're face to face with the familiar bedroom ceiling you know all too well. You turn your head to the side, seeing your fiance wearing an extremely worried expression.

"Love? Are you finally up?" He asks, helping you sit up. Once you're situated, he hands you a tall glass of water. "I think you have a fever my love. You've been huffing all night. Your drenched with your sweat and your face is as pink as it gets."

Oh, bless your fiance's poor soul. He thinks you have a terrible fever when in fact, you've been—

You stamp down on those thoughts, gulping down the glass of water. As you shift to put the empty glass on the table beside you, your face warms at the slick, wet feeling between your legs.

"Love?" Diluc rushes to cup your burning cheeks, his brows furrowed in worry. "I think you should take a break from commissions for a few days. It's stressing you too much." He takes the empty glass from your grasp and places it on the table for you.

"Let me wash the sweat off of you so you can sleep comfortably." He stands, holding out a hand for you.

You take it, letting him half-carry you to your shared bathroom.

Now, you know you don't actually have a fever. And you can walk by yourself perfectly fine. But your fiance's given you a perfect alibi to hold on to until you've thought of a way to tell him what actually happened—why you look like you're fighting for your life.

"I've asked the help to warm up the water for you. Let me help you wash up-"

As soon as he begins to slide your nightgown off of your shoulders, you catch his wrists.

Once this nightgown's off of you, he'll see everything. And you'll have some explaining to do. And you're not ready for any of that yet.

Diluc raises a soft brow questioningly.

"Can you-" You nibble on your bottom lip, feeling your cheeks warm up once again.

One order of well-done cheeks please!

"Can you please turn around? I'll get in the tub on my own." Your tone is as gentle as you can turn it.

Diluc looks confused, mildly hurt, but he hides his expression quickly as he turns around. "Grab onto me if you feel like you're about to fall." He mutters, pushing his hand out from behind him.

You smile at your adorable fiance, quickly taking your nightgown off.

Even if you can do everything yourself, his hand is reached out for you to hold on to. And it'll be very rude to turn down someone extending a helping hand. Literally. So you softly hold onto his hand as you lower yourself into the tub, letting out a relaxed sigh at the feeling of the warm water almost immediately washing away your stress.

"May I turn around?" Diluc asks. "Mmhmm." You hum, watching him slowly turn around.

His eyes don't drop to the water to try seeing what's underneath all the soap bubbles, he simply grabs the small seat beside the tub, a towel, and silently asks for your arm.

You feel like the world's most loved queen as your fiance softly scrubs the dirty and sweat off of your skin, slowly traveling from one arm to the other, massaging your shoulders and back as he goes.

"Lift your leg for me, love." He asks softly. You bite your lip at his request, remembering how dream Diluc lifted your leg to his hips.

Now, in no way were you a virgin. You've done it multiple times with your fiance. And it felt amazing everytime. And he was so nice, so sweet. He kisses you everwhere. Asks how you feel. Asks what you want, what you don't want. Prioritizes your pleasure before his.

There shouldn't be a 'but'.

But there is!

You wish your fiance was sometimes rough with you. You wish he was more assertive with you—like he is with the people under him. It's one of the reasons you love watching him work.

You just wish he'd force you. Even just once.

You wish he'd leave marks where people can see.

You wish he'd fuck you like you're nothing but a hole to him.

You widh he'd—"Claim me..."

Diluc freezes mid wipe, his gaze stuck on a spot on your forearm. "What did you..."

Your eyes widen at the realization at what you just said out loud. Your cheeks burn once again, but this time your nape, shoulders and ears warm as well. You press your lips together and drag your gaze down at the bubbles, not wanting to meet his gaze.

"Love."

You feel your heart beat at the back of your throat. You wish for the bath to swallow you whole. For time to stop. For the world to implode.

With fingers on your jaw, Diluc turns your head at angle where you'll have to look at him. "What did you just say?"

Your mouth opens and closes, you feel like a total idiot! You have so much to say in your head, yet when the opportunity presents itself, you've got nothing!

"Tell me." Diluc demands, your pussy tingling at his tone.

"I just- well actually, last night- here's the thing though-"

"Spit it out y/n."

Your eyes widen.

He's annoyed.

Diluc never calls you by your name unless he's categorically pissed. His gaze stays on yours, unwavering. You know he's getting an answer out of you one way or another.

Silently, you move towards him, wrapping your arms around his waist. You're soaking him with the soapy water, yet you don't have it in you to care. You press your cheek on his side, letting out a sigh.

Looking up at him, you pout. "It's just that... I had this dream..."

Diluc nods as he resumes with wiping your shoulder.

"And- and in this dream, I was walking back home, here, after a long day of work. So much commissions, so much bounties, I had to travel-"

"Your point, y/n." Diluc commands, his tone making you slightly jump.

"Well, before I could enter the winery, I felt as if someone was following me. And someone was!" You look at him and his eyes are still on your shoulder.

He's upset you're keeping something from him.

"And- and he... He pinned me to the tree and..."

Diluc freezes once more, his gaze finally settling back into yours. His red orbs burn with possessiveness and fury.

"You dreamt of another man?" He roars.

You think—he's already mad, let's just pour everything out.

"And- and he touched me, and one thing led to another, and he took me. He just took me and didn't ask, he didn't let go when I told him to, he just-" Your words stop at the sight of him extremely livid.

At who? At you? At the man in your dreams?

"I liked it..." You whisper.

Diluc grabs you by your arm and hoists you against him, forcing you to stand up. The water is swashing around you, his suit is wet, the room is colder with your wet body, your fiance's grip on your arms were tight. It didn't hurt, but you're also unable to pull away from him.

"Who?" It's such a simple question, and the answer isn't a problem at all. And yet, why does your future with this red headed man depend on it?

"You..." Your voice is small and soft.

Diluc looks as though he's about to pass out from relief. His grip on you loosens and you instantly miss it. You whimper against him, gripping on his suit.

"Don't let go. Do it again." You beg, receiving an inquiring look from your fiance.

"Hold my arms that tight again. Please. I-"

"Love, no. I feel like I was too rough with you. I'm sorry I-"

"You kept me on the tree with a knife. You pressed against me and you just took and took and took. You fingered me, with asking, you fucked me when I told you no, and I loved it, Diluc." You sound pathetic and foolish and daft, but you can't help it. You're begging this man to fuck you like how he did in your dream. You want that shit turning into reality. You're desperate for it.

"Love-"

"Master Diluc?" A muffled voice calls out before you hear two knocks. "The traveler is here to see you. She says she needs to speak with you about the Fatui."

You curse Barbatos and whoever maid was standing outside your door for making this opportunity slip past your fingers.

"Tell her I'll be right down." Diluc yells, his eyes never leaving you. "So you don't have a fever?" He asks, completely dismissing how you had just bared your darkest desires to him. It stings.

You shake your head, at a loss for words.

"Finish washing up. If you want, you can come to my office if you want to say hi to the traveler. I think she misses you." He says, pressing a sweet kiss on your forehead before stepping away.

You listen silently to his footsteps slowly drifting away, and with a click of the door, you're left alone with your thoughts. Your regretful, embarassing thoughts. You sit back down on the tub, bringing your legs to your chest.

What does Diluc think of you now? Is he upset with you? Is he grossed out? Maybe he regrets proposing...

You wallow in shame for a few more minutes, keeping the tears from falling as you finish scrubbing your body. You hate this feeling. You hate that you like being roughed up. You hate the fact that you don't stick to the norm.

"Fuck." You sigh, drained and defeated.

You drop the one last bunch of grapes onto your basket. Your fingers are stained purple and they feel sticky, but it's all worth it. These are the best grapes in Monstadt.

You pick up your basket, taking in a deep breath of the night air. The moon is big and bright tonight, so you didn't need to hassle yourself with bringing a lamp along with you. It's a Friday night, and as always, Diluc has dismissed the staff for the weekend. After meeting you, he believes his people should have the opportunity to spend an ample amount of time with their families.

After his talk with the traveler, he decided to go with her and check out the area where she mentioned a lot of Fatui activities were going on. You didn't ask any more details, you were still too embarassed. Now, however, you're regretting it. You're all alone in the house and you're unsure of when your fiance is coming back.

You enter the winery and quickly shut the front door behind you making sure to lock it. Placing the basket on the long dining table, you double check all the windows and back doors. After which, you move over to the office, letting out a relieved sigh to see all the windows are locked.

Storing the grapes in cryo-induced compartment, you blow out all the candles and turn off all the light before making your way upstairs, ready to wash up before calling it a day.

As you turn to the hallway, the sound of a glass shattering roots you in place. You turn to the side, looking down at the empty foyer.

Fuck. You don't have time to grab a weapon. Your gaze hands on a book. That'll have to do.

Slowly and quietly, you make your way down the stairs, keeping your sense sharp as you look around. The sound came from the kitchen. You bring your book up, ready to hit or throw it at anyone or anything that comes your way.

You arrive at the scene, taking note of the broken wine glass on the floor. You huff, bringing the book down before turning in your heels.

You'll clean that up tomorrow.

"Fucking mice." You mutter, climbing back up the stairs, quickly making a beeline to your bedroom. You quickly shut the door and drop the book on the nightstand, hurrying to the bathroom.

You feel fresh and clean and ready to go to bed. You wrap the towel around your body, hating how you have to leave the warmth of the bathroom and enter the cold stagnant air in your bedroom just for some clothes.

You make a mental note to ask Diluc to renovate your bathroom into a walk-in-closet/bathroom type. That'll make your life much easier.

Padding towards your closet, you begin to dig through your night wear, looking for something warm and comfortable. Just as you've picked out a sweater, cool air brushes on your back. You jump, turning around to see no one and nothing.

Nothing but your open bedroom door.

I closed that, didn't I?

Furrowing your brows, you make your way towards the door. Your defenses are brought up again. Just as you reach the doorway and are about to close the door, you notice the book you were supposed to use as a weapon.

It's open.

You take a step towards it, you notice a small circle on the page. Black ink aurrounds the word 'I'm' in the middle. Two red roses stick out, acting like bookmarks. You turn to the page of the top-most rose, seeing another word encircled. 'Watching'. And the second- 'You.'

Goosebumps erupt all over your body and a loud crash causes you to scream. Your head snaps towards the unlit hallway outside. You question yourself if it's even worth it to go down there anymore.

"What am I thinking?" You mutter to yourself.

I've taken down ruin guards and abyss mages and hundreds of hilichurls. A little burglar doesn't scare me. In fact, it should be scared of me.

With a huff, now feeling annoyed that your peaceful night is ruined, you grab the hand knife Diluc likes to keep hidden in your drawer. Clutching the towel against your body, you quickly but silently make your way down the stairs, looking around for anything amiss.

As you reach the foyer, you notice the office door's ajar. You look around before scurrying over to it, pressing yourself against the wall as you clutch the knife to your chest, the blade pointing away from you. With a deep breath, you kick the door open, your body ready to fight whoever broke into your fiance's office.

Once again, you're greeted with nothing.

Confused, you turn to search the rest of the house when another crash echoes throught the foyer.

Kitchen.

As you run towards the kitchen, you freeze at the sound of footsteps padding quickly on the second floor.

How the fuck...?

You switch your pursuit of the kitchen and start running towards the stairs. Halfway up, you notice something wrong. You turn your head slightly around, just to check, before something grabs you by your ankle, causing you to fall.

The corners of each step dig into your body painfully, but you ignore them as you twirl the knife in your hand, you swing the knife against whatever was behind you, turning your body along with it.

You come face to face with a cloaked stranger, who managed to dodge your strike. You lift your leg up to kick them off of you but they read your movements, gripping on your ankle and angling it to the side.

The stranger uses their free hand to grab onto your hand that held your knife, pressing it onto the step above your head as they press their body against yours.

"Get off of me you fuck!" You yell, your weak attempts at loosening your hand from their grip is overpowered by their strength.

The stranger chuckles—they chuckle darkly as they let go of your ankle and grab onto your other hand. A man. With one hand holding both your wrists, the other grabs onto your towel, forcing it down, exposing your breasts.

"What the fuck are you-" You're cut off by the feeling of their belt pressing against your naked cunt. Heat blossoms on your stomach.

Your hands are pinned above you, your legs are open with a stranger in between them, your body is barely covered by the flimsy towel, and said stranger is grinding on your cunt. Your now wet, hot cunt.

"Slutty fucking body's just begging to be fucked." The stranger growls, the timber of his voice deep. He continues to pull on your towel until it slips from underneath you.

"Let go of me! Do you know who's house you're in right now?!" You yell, your weak attempts at freeing your wrists pitiful, to say the least.

The stranger simply chuckles, and before you know it, the towel is restraining you instead of his hands. "Take this off of me!" You demand, sneering at the man.

"You're in no position to be in control now, slut." He spits, his free hand trailing down your breasts. He squeezes and fondles them before lowering his head, taking your nipple in his warm mouth.

Your teeth dig into your lower lip, you don't want this fucker to hear you feeling good about this.

His tongue swirls around your nipple, sucking on the puckered point before softly sinking his teeth on them. "Fuck!" You cry out, the sudden pain bringing heat down your cunt.

Not now, kitty! You can't do this to me right now!

The stranger chuckles, moving to your other tit, his movement similar, but this time, he bites roughly, making you yell out in pain. Tears sting the corners of your eyes as you look down to see him licking the red mark around your nipple.

"You sick fuck-" You're cut off once again at the feeling of his fingers against your sex. Your wet, hot, needy sex.

When the fuck did his hand get there?!

Your try wriggling your body from his, but he doesn't budge. His finger presses on your sensitive bundle of nerves, causing your lips to part.

Holy shit.

He draws circles on it, pressing the pads of his fingers harshly, intensifying the pleasure charging all over your body. Without warning, he presses two fingers inside, forcing your walls to stretch immediately.

"No! Fuck!" You cry out, begging your body to listen to you.

Diluc. Diluc! Where is he?!

The stranger continues to pumps his fingers inside you. The house echoes with your whimpers, your ragged breaths, and the squelching sound his hand and your cunt makes together.

Everything sounds so lewd.

And you fucking love it.

No! No I fucking don't!

"Diluc!" You cry out.

"No need to yell for me." The stranger pushes his hood off and you've never felt such immense veneration to see the familiar red hair and red eyes you've come to love so much.

That feeling is quickly replaced by a sudden burst of euphoria as Diluc pinches your clit, forcing an electrifying orgasm out of you. You throw your head back, your back arching as waves upon waves of pleasure roll out of you.

"Don't mind if I do." Diluc mutters, feasting on your tits as your orgasm rolls on.

You're left panting and light headed by the time the feeling ceased. "Love." You breathe out, "What are you doing?"

"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" He asks, flipping you over to your stomach. He grabs your waist, pulling it up so your ass is in the air.

"Fuck, love. When you told me about your dream, I almost creamed my pants." He grunts as you listen to his belt buckle clanking. A great sense of deja vu washes over you.

"I've been holding back for so long." He lines his cock to your folds, pressing against them. "You have no idea how many times I fucked you and thought, how would my future wife look covered with my cum?"

Without warning, he shoves his cock deep inside you, all nine inches making it hard for you to breathe. He doesn't give you time to adjust as he withdraws and snaps his hips back.

"And of course, I held back." His thrusts are brutal. " What kind of fiance would I be if I treated my woman like a cocksleeve?" That's exactly how he's treating you right now.

"Fucking you for the sake of my own pleasure?" He chuckles, his fingers digging into your hips. "That'd be very selfish of me." His thrusts have become sloppy, as if he's now chasing after his high. The thought of him using you for his personal gain has your pussy fluttering around him.

"Oh you fucking love that, don't you? You love listening to me talk about making you my bitch." He spits, no, like actually spits on your back.

His fingers weave their way through your hair, gripping on them as he pulls your head back. "Arch the fucking back." He commands, your body following his words immediately. "Fuck yeah, baby. You feel so good right now." He mutters in your ear, his thrusts erratic and unsteady.

"Oh Archons! Let me cum, Diluc! Please let me cum!" You yell out, feeling yourself reach the edge.

"I'm your Archon now." He whispers, his other hand traveling down your cunt. "Cum for me, my little follower." He pinches your clit, an orgasm even more powerful than before shakes your body. Your moans are loud as they travel all over the winery.

"Holy fuck this body is made for sin!" He yells, bottoming out as you feel warm liquid being spilled inside you.

Diluc falls on your back, his ragged breath hot on the side of your neck. A few moments pass before he pulls out, taking you in his arms as he walks up the rest of the steps.

You mentally sigh at the thought of having to wash up again, but your heart is ecstatic right now. You eye the bathroom door, furrowing your brows when you pass by it.

"Where are we going?" You ask, taking note of how your hands are still bound together.

"We're not done." Diluc declares.

"We're not?"

He takes you out the balcony, setting uou down and undoing the towel and dropping it on the ground. "I wanted to watch the moon." He says, taking a seat. "You," he points at you, before point down. "On your knees."

You suck in a breath, slowly kneeling down.

"Take out my cock." He orders, taking off his gloves.

You follow his instructions, feeling your insides turn to jelly at how demanding your fiance is tonight.

If he keeps this up, I'm marrying him tomorrow.

You take out his cock, pumping it softly and slowly at first, unsure of what uou're supposed to do.

Diluc's the first and only guy you've ever been with. And given his track record, he's never ask you to give him head. Sure, you've heard your friends telling you about their experiences, but Diluc always prioritized your pleasure before his. He never found it necessary to ask you for a blow job, and so, you never learned how to.

"Well? What are you waiting for?" He raises a brow, "Use your mouth like the good girl you are."

He places a hand on the top of your head, softly pushing you down until your lips connected with his tip.

"You don't wanna disappoint your Archon now, do you?"

Oh, fuck.

You part your lips, the tip of your tongue softly flicking on his swollen head as your eyes flick up to meet his. Diluc grinds his molars, closing his eyes as his hand pushes your head even lower.

His cock pushes against your tongue, to the back of your throat. The reflex to gag hits you instantly and you begin to pull away, but your fiance's hand keeps you in place.

"Tap my thigh if you feel like it's too much."

Huh?

Without warning, he stands up and grips your hair, pulling you towards him as he snaps his hips forward. Your eyes widen as tears begin to form in the corners. Immediately, you think to tap on his thigh, just as he said. Right before you do, you look up at him, and you're struck.

The expression on him right now—so desperate, so needy. As if he wants nothing more than to fuck your mouth. As if uour mouth is his only salvation from a life of sin. His eyes are hungry and wanting, his hips fast and harsh, his grip on your hair tight and rigid.

"Shit, baby. This mouth is made for fucking." He grits out, his thrusts unyielding.

Your hands move up his thighs, running up and down before you dig your fingers into his skin.

"I said to tap, not to draw blood, love." He breathes out, mistaking your actions for a tap out. You quickly correct him by hallowing your cheeks, independently moving your head in and out.

"Oh fuck!" His moans are loud and desperate as he throws his head back, his chest rising and falling as he chases his second high of the night.

"So close baby, I'm so fucking close!" He yells out and you moan around his dick, making his hips stutter before he pushes his whole length inside, your throat muscles convulsing around him as you begin to push away, but he keeps you in place.

With one last loud roar, he spills inside you, slowly withdrawing his cock. Out of breath, he presses his thumb on your bottom lip. "Open." He commands.

You open your mouth, revealing his spilled seed inside.

"Swallow."

You swallow.

"On your knees, teary eyed, and looking up at me like I'm God." Diluc chuckles, softly pulling you up to stand. He captures your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue dancing against yours. You are completely and utterly in the man's command.

"I love you, baby." He whispers against your lips.

"I love you more, thank you." You close your eyes, smiling.

"I ahould be thanking you." Diluc chuckles, "How did it feel?" He asks, walking you to the bathroom.

"Mmmm..." You ponder, "I'd like to do it again."

"Really?" He raises both brows in disbelief.

You giggle, pressing a kiss on his cheek. "Mmhmm. I enjoyed it too much. Can't get enough of you." You mutter against his lips before turning to get into the tub.

Diluc fucks you roughly in the tub. He scolds you for being a tease. And again on your bed, for saying you can't get enough of him. And once more until you pass out, your body shaking, covered in marks and sweat and cum.

[fangirl-dot-com]

Chapter 9 - Life is a Highway

Well FP1 was a shit show. I’m so sad and angry for what happened with Carlos. Because of this, I will be writing as though the red flag didn’t happen and reader gets to do the full practice. There will be a short update chapter after the race on Sunday. I’m going to start regular chapter updates instead of doing chapters when anything happens in real life. So the augmented 2024 season will start before 2024 actually starts. And don’t forget to let me know if you want to be tagged and/or you aren’t getting updates! Enjoy <;3 

You could feel everything as you closed your eyes. 

The hum of the car as it rattled to life. It breathed. You breathed.

The wire on your cheek as it dug into your skin, ready to use to talk to Mitch. But not yet. 

The roughness of the gloves on your fingertips met the juxtaposition of the smooth steering wheel. The buttons ready to be pushed to activate the controls on the car. But not yet. 

The squish of your face was trapped by the padding of the helmet. Hair tickled your neck from where it sat in ponytail, ready to fly around your shoulders as the wind picked up with acceleration. But not yet. 

Your feet itched to press into the pedals, confined by the tight shoes on your feet. But not yet. 

The tube sat comfortably on your lips, begging you to take a sip. But not yet.

You blinked. Everything came back into focus. 

Looking up, Christian was looking down at you. He said something, but it was muffled. You shot a thumbs up to him, hoping that would be a good enough answer. He pat your sparkly helmet and walked away.

You would be driving after Lando. Max would be let out first, followed by Charles, then Lando, and then you. The screen on your car reflected harshly off your eyes. You wished you could put your visor down. 

You looked over, and through the little gaps, saw Max, looking focused as ever. You wished he’d turn to at least look at you. But he never did. You sighed and looked back to the screen in front. You hadn’t spoken in a while, you just couldn’t get the words out. 

What you didn’t see was Christian and Mitch, looking at you from the wall. 

“She’s quiet,” Mitch mused. “She was happy and bubbly all night, and now she’s quiet.”

Christian just looked at your helmet, that hardly moved an inch since you got into the car. He’d think that you’d be head bobbing side to side in excitement. He suddenly stood straighter, not leaning on the wall, and walked over to Max’s car. He tapped the top of his helmet, getting Max’s attention. 

“Everything all right Christian?” 

“It’s the kid.” He pointed at you, who was currently looking down, visor shut. Max thought it was weird. Were you taking a nap? 

“What’s the matter?” His Dutch accent heavy with concern. 

“She’s quiet.” 

Max wanted to get out to check on you, but there were only five minutes to go before the practice started. 

“Is her radio connected?” Christian nodded. “Then patch me through.” 

You had decided to close your visor, so people wouldn’t see the panic in your eyes. What if you messed up? Crashed. Broke the car. Impeded on someone. Get a penalty for Checo. Hit another driver. 

You were so stuck in your head that you missed the call of a familiar voice. 

“-id. Kid. You have to listen to me.” Your head shot up and looked over at the number 1 car. Max waved and pointed to his helmet, trying to get you to listen. 

“I’m listening.” Your first words since you entered the car almost thirty minutes ago. 

“Are you ok?” 

“I feel like my stomach is in my throat,” you answered honestly. 

Max hummed. “You know what I like to do to calm down when I get nervous.” 

You scoffed. “You? Nervous? I didn’t think that those two things could even be in the same sentence.” 

You could practically hear the roll of Max’s eyes. “Yes, everyone get’s nervous. Don’t tell him I told you but Lando almost peed his pants his first time.” 

“He did not.” You let out a little laugh, calming down one moment at a time. 

“He did. He’ll blame it on a water leak though.” 

“Ok fine. What does the great Max Verstappen do to calm down.” You knew that the minutes were draining the more you talked. 

He was quiet before he spoke, “I like to hum the Dutch anthem.” You could not help the laugh that bubbled from your mouth. 

“You do not!” you giggled, “tell me that this is a joke!” You were tearing up from laughing so hard. 

On the wall, Mitch and Christian listened in to your conversation with their big headphones, laughing silently at the Dutchman’s confession. 

Once you calmed down, Max spoke again, “You should try it with a song that you like. I’m about to go out, but you have some time before you follow Lando. You’re gonna do great kid.” 

“Thanks Max.” You watched him drive out into the pit lane and disappear around the corner. You pressed your radio button for Mitch. 

“Hey Mitch, can you play a song for me?” 

“I’m already on it kid.” 

The car breathed. You breathed. 

The crowd listened as the familiar voice of David Croft picks up. 

“So we have the current world champion leading this practice, followed by Charles Leclerc. Once the Dutchman and Monegasque are on their flying laps, Lando Norris will be let loose, and he is followed by brand new reserve rookie driver Y/n L/n.” 

Another host speaks up, “This will be her first time driving with the big boys. I wonder if she can keep up.” 

David continues, “Well, if you look at the stats, she has shown that she can keep up. Red Bull released her practice lap time for their track, and she was able to beat our very own Max Verstappen’s practice time. And – what is that on her radio?” 

The producers tuned in and opened your radio for everyone to hear. 

“Is that the song from Cars?” 

You were mumbling as you drove around, heating the tires. “Life’s like a road that you travel on,” you turned on one of the various corners, “When there’s one day here,” you moved out of Max’s way, “and the next day gone.” 

With each lyric, you were feeling more comfortable. Mitch’s smile did not go away as she held her phone up to the headset. The song was now blasting throughout the garages. 

Logan had taken his helmet to listen in for a moment. He found himself mouthing the words as well with a huge smile. New best friend?

Once the song ended, you were much more comfortable in the car. You hit the radio button. “Thank you Mitch.” 

“Anything for you kid. Now let’s bring you in, go over some data, then set a lap time. Right now Leclerc is at 1 minute, thirty-five point 265 seconds.” 

“Copy, I’m headed in now. The turn is a bit hard to handle though to enter the pit,” you mentioned.  

“We’ll go over that.” 

You pulled your car parallel to the garage and were carefully lifted and rolled back. You raised your visor so that you could see the screen better. This time around, you were much more talkative and vocal about how you were feeling. From to your right, without your knowledge, Max was looking at you with a big smile. Your hands were flying everywhere as you talked to one of the mechanics, who was softly nodding along to whatever you were saying. 

You were put out on soft tires with a few more minutes to go. If you were going to take fastest lap, it would be now. 

Once again, you headed out, Max this time was on your tail. You knew your tires. Max watched you go another two laps. 

He pushed his radio button to talk to GP. “What is she doing?” he questioned, surprised that you hadn’t taken your flying lap yet. Almost all of the cars were done: it was just the two of you left. 

“Checking.” Max was worried that you didn’t know exactly what you were doing. But you did. You always knew. 

“GP?” Max said again. 

From the commentators box, David spoke up. “Seems like the rookie is taking a leisure drive up the straight.” 

The same producer followed, “She’s on softs but isn’t using them fresh? Does she know what she’s doing.” 

GP finally answered, “I talked to her strategist. She just told me to tell you to go around her and start you lap. She will finish behind you.” 

Max wanted to argue, but didn’t. He quickly passed you, starting his flying lap. When he was rolled into the garage, you finally told the team that you were going to go for it. Max by then had stepped out of the car and was given a set of headphones. 

He was enthralled by the way that you sent the car flying down the straight, much faster than he had. The screen showed that every corner that you turned had been maximized. Under the first two sections, a green negative number showed how quickly you were going, much faster than Charles had. 

By now, everyone’s eyes were on you, and you didn’t have a clue. 

You breathed. The car breathed. 

Everyone else was holding their breath as you made you way down the final straight. 

David could be heard, “And there she goes down the main straight. Is she going to make it?” Your car zoomed over the finish line and everyone’s head turned to see your finishing time. 

“AND THAT IS ONE MINUTE AND THRITY FOUR POINT 000 SECONDS FOR Y/N L/N! A FULL SECOND AND SOME FASTER THAN THE FERRARI!” 

Cheers from the Red Bull garage erupted at the news. Everyone could tell though that Max and Christian were the most proud. You, however, were still in the car, unaware of what just happened.

You pulled up the garage and were immediately swarmed with mechanics and personelle alike. You clamored out of the car and were given multiple pats on the helmet, just like it had been when you won your championship. 

You took off your helmet, followed by your balaclava. Your hair stuck to your forehead as you walked back into the garage. You were handed a giant Red Bull can with an even bigger straw. You were excited to drink from it though. Just as you were about to take a sip, hands landed on your shoulders, turning you around. 

You were brought into a giant hug by none other than Max Verstappen. 

“Uh, Max. I love you and all, but what’s all this?” He looked at you with a puzzled face.

“Kid,” he breathed, “you just made the fastest lap yet. A full second and some faster than the Ferrari.” 

“Oh.” You were dumbstruck. Max just laughed at your silence and brought you into another hug. 

After the hug, you were congratulated by a couple more people. Mitch had given you a giant hug, followed by Christian. 

When the Brit brought you into his arms, he whispered, “I’m glad I made the right decision kid.” You kinda teared up at that point, but you didn’t let them fall. You still had after race interviews to get through. 

Max gently took you by the arm, gave you your change of clothes, and pushed you towards the bathroom. He muttered something about hurrying up so you could be interviewed together. You peeled off your race suit, then your fireproofs. You were thankful for the change of clothes. Max must have grabbed the wrong size, because the hoodie was definitely three sizes too big. You were drowning in the soft fabric. Oh well. 

Max was looking at his phone when you emerged from the makeshift driver room. It was really Max’s since you didn’t have one yet. 

When you walked out, all of the reporters who had been talking to other drivers, were suddenly all around you and Max. A few of them shouted questions at you, but you were too stunned to speak. 

Max quickly took some of the questions as you were trying to grasp what was happening. Your eyes met warm brown ones. You gave the lady a quick nod, wanting to hear her questions. 

“That was some lap Y/n. How were you feeling?” You gulped. 

“Nervous” was all you were able to get out. But somehow, that got everyone laughing. Max had turned around to talk to Charles. 

“We noticed that you had a nice sound track with you in the car. Would you like to tell us about that?” 

“Uh, I really like the movie cars,” you stated. Like in the car, talking about the things you like got you comfortable the fastest. “I grew up on the movie. Lightning McQueen was always my favorite.” You paused and looked back at Max and Charles. You smirked and you knew that they saw it. “Yeah, he reminds me of a certain driver.” 

The same woman spoke up, “And who would that be?” 

You only pointed behind you as you started laughing. 

“Me?” 

“Him?” 

You only giggled. “Lightning is a red car. Charles drives for a red team. It all makes sense.” You shrugged your shoulders. “If Max grew a mustache, he could be Chick, but he’s not green. If anyone that would be Fernando maybe? Christian is definitely Doc. Oh wait, Max would definitely be Mater. Cause,” you pointed at the two starstruck drivers, “they’re besties.” 

Max scoffed and Charles gave a small laugh, so did the reporters. The rest of the interviews went well. 

“Yeah, I’m just very thankful for this opportunity, and I can’t wait to drive for 2024. It’s going to be an amazing experience.” 

With that, you were done with the interviews. You walked back to where Christian was and gave him a big hug and let out a sigh. He rubbed your back. 

“I’m so proud of you kid.” Your tears finally trickled down your face. All you ever wanted to do was make people proud. You let out a yawn as you turned from Christian. There were still a couple of hours before the second practice, but you were determined to stay for everything. You took a pair of headphones off the wall and rewatched the other drivers. You saw Carlos narrowly miss a giant piece of metal in the middle of the track. You were glad that he didn’t hit that. It would have scraped the entirety of the bottom of his car. 

Logan had come back up to you as you walked around, trying to get tired. 

“Dude, I’m glad I’m not the only one who loves the Car movies. Alex makes fun of me for it.” You gaped at him. 

“Excuse me?” you all but yelled, earning some looks. “Ok, but you have to agree, Cars 2 is the best one. The first one is there for nostalgia, and the third one never happened.” 

“Oh my gosh I know. The second one is so good.” 

You looked around. “I have my phone, with Disney plus. Want to watch a bit with me?” Logan nodded as the two of you found a corner with a chair to watch the movie. It was an hour before anyone found you. Surprisingly, Oscar had come over as well, and you found yourself sandwiched between the two 2023 rookies on one chair. 

When Lewis came on screen, Oscar yelled, “Lewis has his own Car character!?” 

“I know, it’s not fair.” You pouted. 

It was comical to see the three of you, smushed on a chair, eyes trained on a screen. Sadly the three of you weren’t able to finish it, but you quickly promised that you would finish it at some point. 

It was time for the rest of the drivers to get back into their cars. This time, Checo was back in his own seat. Your eyes were stinging but you wanted to stay awake. You knew you could do it. 

You couldn’t. 

You had sworn that you were just going to take a quick nap, but by the time someone came to get you, you were out. The mechanic who found you called Christian over and left after. Christian quickly pulled out his phone to take a picture before putting an extra Red Bull jacket over you as a blanket. 

When Max got out of the car, he was surprised when he didn’t see you at the garage wall. His eyes flickered around the garage, before spotting you curled up by some extra tires. It was five a.m. by the time that he was ready to leave to head back to the hotel. He quickly unzipped the race suit and grabbed extra clothes to change into. All that was on his mind was getting back to the hotel for a few hours of sleep before he had to do it all over again. He rubbed a hand over his face as he walked out of his driver room. 

Saying multiple quick goodbyes, he walked over to you. Looking down, he realized he didn’t know how to wake someone up. He kneeled to be eye level before lightly shaking your shoulder. 

“Kleintje,” he whispered in his native tongue. He remember his mother saying it every time she had to wake him up (translation: little one). 

Your eyes fluttered at the gentle motion. You startled and shot up straight, narrowly missing Max’s face. You looked at him confused. 

“Why aren’t you in the car? Is there a red flag?” Your eyes darted around the garage, looking for some indicator as to why Max was crouched in front of you instead of driving around the circuit. 

“Kid, it’s time to go back to the hotel.” You pouted. 

“I wanted to watch the practice though.” 

“You didn’t miss anything, so don’t worry about it. But, I would like to leave and Christian told me to take you back to the hotel, so let’s go.” He held out a hand for you to take. Using some leverage, he was able to pull you up from where you were sleeping. 

You barely made it to the car, yawning every so often. With your backpack, you took out a blanket before getting into the car. Max immediately put on the heat so that the two of you could warm up from the cold desert air. 

“Care to share?” he questioned with a laugh as he saw you snuggle into your blanket. You glared at him before turning towards the window. That made him laugh even more as he rolled out of the parking space. 

Thankfully Christian knew what he was doing by booking hotel less than ten minutes away. Looking over, Max saw that you had fallen back to sleep. When he pulled up to a red light, he got his phone out of his pocket and took a picture. 

The light turned green and off he went, careful not to jerk you around the corners. Once the two of you got to the hotel, Max woke you back up. The valet was able to park the car for him as he guided you to the front counter to get the key cards. To your surprise, your room was right next to his. 

Max made sure that you were safely in bed, before retiring to his room. You had given him a sleepy hug before he left. The feeling made him feel warm on the inside. He barely was able to send a few text messages and post something on his story before drifting off to sleep. 

He groaned as lyrics filled his head. 

“Life is a highway and Y/n I’m going to kill you for this.” 

tagged: logansargeant and oscarpiastri

tagged: y/n.89

Tag List : @awekbachira @lightdragonrayne @leilanixx @angsthology @digitalizeduniqueness @topguncultleader @landosgirlxoxo @gods-menace @itsjustkhaos @thefandomswhre @alwaysboredsworld @vellicora @bintuabbas @sam-is-lost @empress-kimiko @assholeinatrenchcoat @kagatinkita @glitterquadricorn @zyonsay @tsukishimawhore @treehouse-mouse @ashy-kit @agent-curt-mega @julesbabey @lydialawrence @stopeatread @claudia5912 @nichmeddar @blueberry64857959 @laura-naruto-fan1998 @leptitlu @alessioayla

[draconic-desire]

your yan!neuvi series got me on a chokehold !! I feel so bad for darling but it got me thinking, would neuvillette ever allow them to i dont know, go visit mondt to look at their parents’ grave (?).

Neuvillette meets his (dead) in-laws edition 😂

Ok this idea is simultaneously kinda funny but also makes me cry a bit because I totally think Neuvillette would have ensured your family’s wellbeing in your absence. Despite his flaws, he still maintains his overwhelming sense of duty and justice.

Yandere Neuvillette x Reader

(A Dance with the Dragon Interlude)

Talking about your life four centuries ago has become a bit of a taboo in the household you share with Neuvillette.

Mostly, it only serves to incite an argument, one you are always predestined to lose. The other times, it only reminds you of painful memories. So, you’ve learned to bite your tongue, to keep your past held tightly to your heart. Neuvillette doesn’t seem to mind; in fact, you believe he might prefer if your history were to be wiped from your mind completely, leaving a blank slate for him to carve his essence into.

Which is why you’re so shocked when, on a particularly storming evening, the Chief Justice himself requests, “Tell me about what your parents were like.”

Jolting, you nearly drop the book in your hands. He’s not looking at you—usually, having his gaze on you translates to irritation, concern, or lust. When he’s looking away from you, as he is now, irises trained on the waves battering the cliffs below your home, you know that means he is instead thinking, pondering.

But thinking about what? Your eyes narrow, and your heart accelerates. What is he getting at?

A hand clenches around your heart when you try to picture your mother and father in your head—and fail. Four hundred years without a visit or simple image…of course their features have faded over time. But you’ll never forget the warmth, the knowledge that they loved you until the end and supported your lifelong wish of pursuing marine biology, even when it took you away from them.

You only shake your head. “I don’t want to talk about that, Neuvillette.”

He turns to you, now, eyes filled with calculation. A judge presiding over his court. “I had no parents. I simply…came to exist. Born of the water, the waves, the sea foam, and bestowed with this primordial power.” He glances down at his gloved hand, palm squeezing into a fist. “So the idea of parents is…foreign to me. Though I have a sense of the kind of ceaseless, unconditional love that defines a family.” You know he’s talking about his feelings for you, and your tattoo burns. “Experiencing a loss of that magnitude would be incomprehensible.”

For the life of you, you cannot figure out his endgame here. Why acknowledge your loss? Why equate his adoration and obsession with you for parental love? Your eyes burn, your breath quickens, you feel the tattoo pulse with energy as you—

“Do you ever wonder about how they lived the rest of their lives?”

Yes. No. Everyday. Somehow, you find your voice, a quiet thing filled with warning. Your skin feels so hot, like your veins are laced with lightning. “And how would you know anything about that?”

Neuvillette’s sharp eyes cut to your frame. “I…made sure that they were fully provided for. They lived happy lives, believing you to be living out your dreams in Fontaine. They are now buried together, in the cathedral cemetery overlooking the Brightcrown Mountains.”

Your breath hitches, and that power in your blood begins to settle. Their favorite place. The Brightcrown Mountains, where your father proposed to your mother. The Favonius Cathedral, where they were married. And the cemetery behind the church, where your grandparents had been entombed, too.

Something falls onto your lap. It’s only when you touch your hands to your face that you realize you’re crying. Neuvillette watches you with concern, one hand raised and poised to reach out to you, but he keeps his distance as he lets you process.

You release a shaky sigh. Was it true? Did they pass with no fear for your safety, in ignorant bliss of your extended life? The thought, although morbid in some ways, actually brings you a sense of peace. Your parents never had to endure the loss of you in the same way you had for them.

You swallow thickly, your voice hoarse with emotion. “Can we…visit them?”

That sets Neuvillette’s back ramrod straight as he blinks. You’ve only been out of the house a handful of times, and he was the one to bring this topic to light, but to venture out of Fontaine entirely? His protective and possessive instincts flare immediately, screaming at him to shut this idea down, to grab you and sink his teeth into your neck, dominant, claiming. But as his silver eyes flick across your face, taking in your tears, the tremble in your hands, the pit of mixed despair and relief in your eyes, he relents.

Slowly, he blinks, taking in a deep breath. You’re expecting an excuse, a verbal slap on this wrist disguised as concern for your safety. Which is why, for the second time tonight, you’re stunned when Neuvillette, rising to his feet, extends his hand. “I’ll take you there.”

~*~

The trip is easy, thanks to the Hydro Dragon’s teleportation abilities. The two of you arrive at the large square in front of the cathedral, the statue of Barbados towering above you. Briefly, you wonder what the Archon of Freedom thinks about your situation, or if he even deigns to care.

Not much has changed about Mondstadt in four hundred years. The streets still possess an older feel, cobblestone streets and stone walls surrounding the city. After seeing the drastic change in Fontaine, the fact envelopes you in a sense of comfort, knowing that at least one aspect of the world has aged alongside you, long-lived but unchanged.

It’s long grown dark, and the heavy downpour persists. Neither of you brought an umbrella as you ascend the stairs and wrap around to the cemetery behind the church. The rain, however, seems to dissolve into your skin rather than chilling you or soaking your clothes, no doubt another consequence of Neuvillette’s magic coursing through your veins.

The Hydro Dragon leads you to a small plot towards the back. Two tombstones are erected side by side, and you fall to your knees as you read: (Mother’s name) and (Father’s name) (L/n). Lives entwined to their last breath, they soar high above the clouds.

You hear a rustle of fabric, and soon Neuvillette has joined you, kneeling by your side. He raises his arm, and tendrils of blue light pool from his palm, forming the shape of beautiful flowers. They surround the graves, a sea of blues to celebrate your loved ones.

The two of you sit there for what could have been minutes or hours. All you know is that this is the most at peace you’ve felt in four hundred years.

[radiant-reid]

hi cate! this is my first ask sooo i’m nervous to send this tee hee but i love your acc and i’ve got a front row seat on the hot wife wagon 🤪 and let me tell you cate i have thoughts. lots of them.

but what do you think about dr. hot wife stitching up spencer in the ER after a case? like she’s doting on him and bringing him jello and being extra gentle and stuff. and if the team doesn’t know and sees them they’re like 👀👀 “where’d she learn those bedside manners??” “can i get some stitches too?” ok that’s all. i love you and what you do have a great one!! 💖

oh i love this so much and don't be nervous, i love hearing what you think

"What happened?" She asks, walking into the crowded room. Spencer's sitting on the edge of the bed, Morgan's sitting on the chair and Hotch is standing. "I'm Doctor L/n." She introduces herself to them as an afterthought.

Spencer smiles at her voice, pointing to the cut on his forehead. "Someone tried to mess up my pretty face."

She laughs as she turns away to get some gloves. "Well, they didn't succeed." She assures him. "I am going to have to stitch it up, though, so keep your head still."

She grabs what she needs to stitch the sutures into his open wound, standing in between his legs in a way that she wouldn't with any other patient. Spencer, on the other hand, acts professionally and keeps his hands on his thighs.

"So what actually happened?" She asks instead of waiting until they get home.

"I got hit in the back of the head by an unsub and fell into a glass mirror." Spencer answers.

Y/n's eyes widen, but she's happy he's there and only slightly hurt. Being thrown into a mirror could do a lot worse. "Sounds like 7 years of bad luck to me." She says jokingly.

"I don't know." He disagrees. "I think I'm pretty lucky, but I can try it out if it'll help with your assessment."

"Mm, okay." She agrees, carefully working on his face.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" He asks.

Morgan and Hotch's eyes snap to each other, exchanging odd looks as they both silently wonder whether or not Spencer has a concussion because he has never been that flirty. In all the years they've known him, a question like that or one with those implications has never come out of his mouth.

"I'm married, actually." She answers.

"So I'm going to have to wait out my 7 years of bad luck before asking you out?" He wonders with a pout.

Morgan holds a hand over his open mouth, and Hotch starts worrying they're about to have to deal with a sexual harassment lawsuit.

But she laughs, and not like she's trying to politely shut him down. "I don't know. I'm kind of fond of him."

"I'm going to go see if the rest of the team is here." Morgan awkwardly says, getting out of his chair and leaving the three of them in the room.

"Okay, I think you're good." She says, finishing off the tidy stitch. "Did they check you for a concussion?"

Hotch takes his chance to defend Spencer before he says something unusually stupid. "No, he could have one- he probably has one. He's not usually like this."

She nods, taking off her gloves. "Any memory loss, nausea, unconsciousness, confusion, headaches?" She lists to both of them.

"None of that." Spencer denies. "But I did want to ask if I could take you out on a date."

"Yes, lots of behavioral change," Hotch answers for him.

Y/n looks sternly at her husband. "I won't hesitate to send you for a CT scan." She threatens although she knows he's teasing her because his eidetic memory is working perfectly. It also hilarious to see him freaking his boss out.

"Please, if you're going to come with me." He flirts.

She shakes her head with a little smile, pulling away from him. "Sorry, I've got other patients to see. Do you need anything else?"

He stops short of asking for a kiss. "Just some jello, please."

"Because you used your manners, I'll bring you two." She agrees before leaving the room.

"You don't need jello for one stitch and a few bruises," Hotch tells him once he's sure she's out of earshot.

Spencer shakes his head. "I mean, I should at least stay to say goodbye."

Morgan catches everyone else up as they walk through the hospital and towards Spencer's room. "He was flirting with her. Like actively hitting on her, trying to get her to go out with him."

"We've got to see this." JJ agrees, nods coming from everyone else.

"Wait." Morgan stops them, gesturing to Y/n, who's talking to a nurse. "Her."

They look more surprised then than they did when Morgan informed them of Spencer's odd behavior. "She was flirting with Reid?" Rossi asks in disbelief.

"I'm going to go check myself in," Emily declares, earning a chuckle from the rest of them.

They watch as she walks toward Spencer's room with jello cups. "He's not even getting admitted," JJ says, shaking her head in disbelief. "She's definitely into him."

"Go and watch them flirt. It's disgusting." Morgan says, and the irony is not lost on any of them.

She's spoon-feeding him the jello when they walk into the room like he's got broken hands. "Hey, guys, this is Doctor L/n." Spencer introduces them.

"And I'm guessing she doesn't treat all of her patients like this," Hotch mutters loud enough to have them all laughing.

[oneforthemunny]

I’m loving these blurbs girl!! Can I request something for my favorite cowboy where sweet girl tries to convince Eddie that she doesn’t need his help with everything around the house because she’s a strong independent woman! (even though he spoils her rotten and makes sure she doesn’t have to lift a finger 😂) love you!! 🩵

this is so sweet girl of her omfg. a little bratty and moody and she takes it out on him like that, then he turns around and just watches until she has to ask lmaooo. spoiler- that's how this blurb is gonna go haha. slight dom/sub undertones but no actual smut.

"Don't lift that." Eddie's gruff tone calls from behind you. The sound made your skin crawl, shoulders tensing with annoyance. "I'll get that. Just leave it."

"Oh, no," You snapped back sarcastically, teeth grit in agitation. "I'll get it."

It was silly, childish even, you knew that. The argument was just that, silly. You'd gone out to see Eddie, trying to coax him inside to eat lunch with you, stop working and give you a little attention.

"I gotta finish this, honey."

"You could finish it later. Please? Come eat inside with me."

"You know I gotta get this done."

"But you can't do it later?"

"No, I got other things to do."

"You always have something to do."

"Yeah? I sure do. Maybe if you helped me instead of poutin' all the time, it'd get done quicker."

You knew he was teasing, from his snarky, sing-song tone and curling of his lips. But it infuriated you, rubbed you all the wrong ways.

So, determined and furious, you slipped your little rubber work boots on and some extra gloves that were a bit too big for you, opting to help Eddie with his chores.

"Quit that." Eddie clicked, tossing the hay bale in the corner with a soft grunt. "You're gonna get yourself hurt, now, just let me do that."

"No," You snapped, blocking his hands that tried to take the small hay bale away from you. "You say I never help you, so I'll do it. I got it."

"That's too heavy for you. You're gonna hurt yourself-"

"-No," You sneered, teeth grit, gloved hands slipping under the rope that held the hay in place. "I won't. I got it. I don't need your help."

Eddie paused. For a moment, he contemplated catching you by your chin, making you apologize, but he knew you'd probably like that- that it was what you wanted. Instead, he crossed his arms, standing back to watch you.

"Alright," He nodded coolly. "Go on."

You shimmied your hands under the straps just like you'd seen Eddie do before, bending your knees, before you tried to pull up, only to drop it right back on the barn floor with winded grunt. Why the fuck did hay weigh that much? It's fucking straw?

Eddie smirked in the corner, watching you try over and over and over, shuffling a few steps before dropping it right back down, winding yourself.

You looked over your shoulder sheepishly, eyes cutting to see him there, a silent pleading in your eyes. Eddie shrugged. "You said you could do it. Go on then. Move it for me."

Mean, oh, he was being so mean today. You pouted, huffing with a petulant fury. You tried again, and again, and one more time until your back felt like it might snap.

"Ok," You grumbled, dropping the bale with a final grunt of failure. "I can't do that one, but I can do something else."

"No, you told me you could move that one." Eddie shook his head. "What? 'S just supposed to stay there?"

"No," You hissed, eyes narrowing in annoyance, embarrassment. "You can just move it over there, and I'll do something else-"

"-Me?" Eddie jabbed a gloved finger to his chest, voice lifting with that arrogant teasing tone he loved to mock you with. "Now how's that fair? You told me you can move it, and now you're just gonna demand I move it? Thought you were helpin' me."

"I am." It came out more like a bratty whine than a statement. "I just can't move that one."

"So you want me to move it then, hm?" Eddie lifted a brow, lips twitching to hide his grin when you huffed and gave a curt nod. "Fine, but you better ask me. Better ask me reallll nice and I just might."

"Seriously?" You snapped, tongue clicking in annoyance.

"Yes. C'mon now, baby, you told me you were gonna move this, and now you can't? That's really settin' me back." Eddie shrugged. "Least you could do it gimme a pretty please?"

Your cheeks burned. For a second, you contemplated telling him to fuck off, stomping back to the house- but you knew the stubborn bastard would stay out there all fucking night if he had to, stand out there and leave it until you came out and asked. Might as well do it now, get it over with so maybe he'd get a little soft with you, give in and come inside and eat with you.

"Fine." You gritted with a nasally huff. "Eddie will you please-"

"-eh," Eddie lifted a finger. "What're you 'sposed to say?"

Your eyes narrowed at him, jaw setting in irritation. He was just trying to embarrass you now, get you riled up and whiny. "Will you pretty please move the hay for me?"

Eddie smirked, pushing off the wooden wall, hands sliding under the hay bales and lifting it with a soft grunt, walking it towards the stables with the others. "Now was that so hard?" He quipped, hands dusting the other off.

You rolled your eyes, turning with a huff. "Why don't you try askin' me nice like that to come inside with you, hm?" Eddie hummed.

You turned just enough to give him a pout, one you knew had him buzzing with excitement, eyes widening and grin widening, a sure sign that you were close to getting what you wanted, you always did.

"Eddie, will you pretty, pretty please come inside and have lunch with me?" It was a little more sarcastic than what he would have liked, but he relented, tossing his gloves to the side, following you into the house, opening the screen door for you, smacking your ass playfully just to hear you squeal when you slipped inside.

[oceantornadoo]

marry me. (simon riley x f!reader)

simon riley is a dick, slight dacryphilia, over usage of “oh.”, reader does not understand this man is obsessed, marital abuse joke (he’s a dick)

—

“simon, would you ever,” deep breath, “ever want to get married?”

you focused your gaze on your hands, clenching and unclenching. deep breaths, in and out. you’d rehearsed the question for days, phrasing and everything. “doesn’t have to be with me of course, but maybejustingeneral?”

simon almost laughed, would have if explaining the story to anyone else. his sweet little dove, all moisturized in prim pajamas, springing marriage on him right as he got into bed. asking, almost pleading, as if you hadn’t been his since that first glance, that first brush of skin against gloved hands. but, you had asked about getting married in general, and well, he had to answer the exact question at hand.

“no.”

oh. well, some part of you had expected that. and of course, the legalities of you marrying a dead man had to be considered. you weren’t even sure if you two were official either, so the question must have freaked him out. you mentally deleted the wedding pinterest board in the back of your head, clearing white flowers from your vision. so lost in your thoughts, you didn’t notice simon turn on the bedside lamp, sitting up straight.

“not in general.” he liked watching you squirm, golden light spilling around the room, encircling you like a halo. simon could have sworn there were tears forming in your eyes, the thought so compelling he felt himself get half-hard. your lover waited patiently, spine made of steel as he watched you go through options mentally, contingency plan after plan. he didn’t want to marry you, so now what?

“well simon, i really do care for you but i can’t not -“ he cut you off. “said in general. ‘fore you. i’d marry you.” oh. oh. he cracked a smirk, full with idiocy. you turned behind you, grabbed your pillow, and whacked him in the face. (he didn’t even have the decency to pretend to fall over).

“‘s that for? thought you wanted to marry me, dove. tha’s practically marital abuse.” you couldn’t even bring yourself to laugh, throat still choked up from almost breaking up with him two seconds ago. you shook your head, watching your reflections in the mirror instead. “it’s not a joke, si. can’t just say that shit with a laugh.” well. guess you didn’t find it as funny as he did. how absolutely absurd it was to imagine simon not marrying you, not claiming you in every way possible with a ring on your finger, a change in name, and maybe a baby in a few years. of course you were going to be his wife. what other option was there?

“c’me here.” he dragged you into his lap, strong hands encircling your waist and pulling you into him with ease. you tucked your face into the crook of his neck, suddenly annoyed at your earlier reaction, all tears and feelings in the face of his smirk. “marriage is important to me, ok? i’m just sensitive about it.” he kissed your forehead, then rested his chin on top of it as you tried to burrow deeper into his skin. his hands were still at your waist, rubbing small circles, lulling you into a sense of calm. “‘m dead serious, dove. jus’ caught me off guard you felt the need t’ ask.” what did that mean? had he already been planning on marrying you? why was this stupid stupid man incapable of communication? instead of asking all these extremely pertinent questions, you settled for a quiet “oh.” he huffed at your lack of words. “bought a ring a month after we met if we’re bein’ honest.” oh. you were moving, simon’s hands readjusting to cradle your face, focusing your gaze on him. “i’ll do whatever flowers an’ cultural shit you want. the whole nine yards. y’ve been mine since that first smile, dove. whatever you need to make it official, ‘m here. laughed cuz in my mind, it already is. make sense?” you nodded, still not trusting your words. his face, stony as ever, gave no other answers. simon gave you a quick peck, then reached over to turn the lamp off.

“go’on. time to sleep, wife.”

oh.

—

i’m such an oh. truther. sorry for the over usage lol

[rogueddie]

Steve realizes that he's been spending too much time with the kids families when he gets home, realizing that he'd bought supplies for knitting. It's something that Claudia and, recently, Joyce have been getting into. They would rope Steve into joining them whenever he time there.

But it's nice. He likes knitting. He likes the repetitively and how easy it is to simply... stop. Stop worrying, stop pacing, stop thinking. Stop being so afraid.

It's hard to be scared of beasts in the walls when he looks down and finds a badly knitted sock in his lap. It looks too silly.

The longer he spends on it though, the better he gets. It's not long until he's knitting things nice enough that he feels confident enough to wear them outside the house. And no one bats an eye.

Robin even steals some of his scarves- until she learns that he knit them and then she starts making demands. Which he's happy to fulfil. Seeing her light up when he hands her the scarf and gloves, in the exactly color and pattern she'd asked for, is more than worth it.

That Christmas, his new knitting skills save the day. He had to set himself a very strict budget for the presents. He's trying to save as much as he can, with Robin and Eddie, so they can move into a little house they have their eyes on.

He blows the entire budget on the kids.

So, with the help of Robin, he tries to think of the best things to knit for the adults.

Robin asks him to make them matching scarves and gloves. She knows that Nancy, Jonathan and Argyle will want matching things too, which solves what to get them. As well as Joyce and Hopper- though, Steve isn't sure how those will go down.

The other parents are easy. He's spoken to them, been in their homes enough, to know the patterns and colors they favor.

By the time he finishes knitting everyone their things... he's still not sure what to knit for Eddie. All he has is the black yarn he got and some of the maroon and dark green left over from the other projects.

"He'll be happy you got him anything at all," Robin teases. "You know that. You just want it to be perfect because-"

"He's my friend! Ok? I just want to get him something nice for Christmas."

"And that's all there is to it?"

"Yes!"

"Mhm," Robin smirks, slowly walking backwards towards the door, raising an eyebrow at him. "I totally believe you."

Even though Robin hadn't been any help with thinking of any good ideas, he's sure that he's only thinking of worse ones without her. It doesn't help that, the longer he sits and tries to think, the more ideas they came up with together he forgets.

In the end, he settles for a gothic version of a Christmas sweater. He tries to make it as detailed as he can- knitting in snowflakes and zig zags, the hellfire devil head instead of a reindeer and little Christmas trees along the bottom hem.

He shoves it into the little Christmas bag he got for it, taping the top shut before he can doubt himself. He tucks it away, pointedly avoiding so much as glancing at it.

It's a relief when, a few days later, Christmas comes around.

Most of them bounce between the Wheelers and the Byers homes. The kids all spend most of the day at the Wheelers, gathering all their presents with them. Dustin helps Steve bring the presents from him, Robin and Claudia inside.

He stops at the Byers, where most of the adults are gathered. Joyce and Nancy both try to convince him to change his mind, to stay for dinner, as he drops their presents off. But, as he reminds them, he promised Robin he'd spend Christmas dinner with her.

She's sat on the trailer steps with Eddie when Steve pulls up.

"You're late!" Eddie yells as Steve opens the trunk, grabbing the last three presents. "Have you no consideration for the peasants?!"

"Shut up," Steve says, rolling his eyes. He gently kicks him. "Move."

Eddie throws himself off the steps, onto the floor. "Ah! Rob, he's bullying me!"

"Good." Robin stands up, opening the door and waving Steve inside. She raises an eyebrow at Eddie. "Get up, I'm hungry."

"Fine!" Eddie says, scrambling to his feet. "You're all so mean to me."

Wayne clears his throat. He's stood by the kitchen, leaning with his arms crossed, watching them with an amused grin. "You kids ready to eat now or do you want to do presents first?"

"Food," they all say in sync.

The dinner is amazing, something Steve and Robin both keep telling Wayne. Whenever the conversation pauses, they have a little kick-fight on who gets to speak up that time.

Wayne jokingly asks Eddie why he's never so complimentary about his cooking, which earns him an eye roll.

"You don't need the ego boost, old man."

Wayne gets him in a loose headlock when he stands up, ruffling his hair, before quickly grabbing the plates that Steve tries to collect.

"No, no, no. You kids get started opening your presents, I've got these."

Robin drags him along, into the living room, by the collar of his polo when he tries to offer help. Eddie helps, grabbing his forearm. Steve grumbles the whole time, folding his arms when they push him down, onto the sofa.

"Ladies first," Eddie throws a present at Robin, nearly hitting her in the face. He grins widely when she flips him off.

He insists that, once Robin opens all of her presents, Steve has to open his. Then Wayne. And, once they've all opened theirs, Eddie claps his hands together at the remaining presents.

"Perfect. All for me." He grins, grabbing Steves first. He almost rips the bag with how hard he pulls at the tape.

"We have scissors," Robin waves them at him.

He bats them away, digging the sweater out of the bag. "Oooh, gothic Christmas, very-" he stops when he turns it over, staring at the front for a moment. "Is... is this, like, custom made?"

"Yeah, sort of," Steve says, shrugging. He offers a smile when Eddie looks up at him, looking almost... awed.

"He made it himself," Robin says. "He's gotten into knitting."

"You knit this? Yourself? Stevie, what the hell! This is amazing!" He quickly shrugs off his jacket so he can put the sweater on. "I'm never taking this off. Fuck, I could kiss you."

"Save it for the bedroom," Wayne quickly says, holding a hand up. "Some of us here don't want to see all that PDA."

Robin snickers. "Yeah, have some decency for the rest of us."

"Ha ha," Eddie deadpans. "You're both hilarious."

"Seriously though, son," Wayne puts a hand on his shoulder. "You know I'll support and love you no matter what, but I'd hate to see you and a girl getting like that just as much."

"What?" Eddie frowns, confused. "What are you talking about?"

Wayne glances between him and Steve. "You and your boy."

"Holy shit," Robin whispers. "I knew it wasn't just me."

"I'm, uh..." Steve eventually speaks up, once it's clear that Eddie isn't going to say anything, simply continuing to gape at Wayne. "I'm not his boy."

"What?" Wayne turns to Eddie with narrowed eyes. "You ain't asked him out yet? How many dates have you been on and you still ain't-"

"We're not dating," Eddie hisses. "I've told you this, like, seventy times!"

"This is amazing," Robin whispers, eyes darting between the two as they continue arguing back and forth. "Stevie, you owe me money."

Steve groans, slouching as low as he can, covering his red face with both hands.

[raindropsyndrome]

Long caption warning 💀

Prev

PLEASE. Ignore my spelling errors I’m so tired.

*cracks knuckles* Alright, some people on Instagram asked for this and so now I will share. (Angst warning pssshhh)

My timeline for my F!Donnie (starting just before CJ was introduced):

- Over the years, Donnie would join in battles, mostly providing long range defense, all the while blasting his tunes on full blast

- But that changed when he got Krang’d right to his head, Mikey was able to remove the infection, but this caused Don’s eyesight to become quite poor (and for him to not trust himself in combat afterwards.)

- After that incident, Donnie became absolutely fascinated with Krang tech and biology, subconsciously wondering if he could replicate that raw “power” he’d felt when the Krang was infecting him, and if he could control it, understand it.

- He didn’t like that, but over time he felt it was necessary to beating the Krang. “Keep your friends close, and keep your enemies closer” type deal

- So Donnie becomes “the guy in the chair” (oh yeah he also rebuilt Shelldon. Finally. </3)

- Cj was born, Cassandra had fallen in battle only a few months later, leaving the turtles and April to fully take care of CJ

- While Leo, being the leader, took on most of the responsibility, Donnie got to spend more time with CJ as a result of staying at their base more

- Donnie LOVED being around CJ, he would teach CJ everything he knew, even if CJ didn’t quite understand him yet. He even let CJ hang around in his lab, (as long as he touched NOTHING.) Donnie even upgraded Cassandra’s hockey stick and mask then gave them to CJ

- only a few years later had Raph fallen as well

- Donnie felt as if it was partially his fault Raph couldn’t get out alive, and so he begrudgingly quit his role as “the guy in the chair,” dedicating all of his time to his inventions

- He became MUCH more reclusive, leaving everyone in the dark about what (and how) he was doing. To CJ, he was more of a “presence” rather than an uncle now

- He then revealed his new invention, the Raph mech (Don has the shittiest coping skills known to man)

- Another couple years pass, Don still using all of his time to conduct his “experiments”

- Around this time, Leo had lost his arm. Donnie reconfigured one of his Raph mech’s arms to fit Leo to use as a prosthetic, the Raph mech was later decommissioned

- One day, Donnie oddly insisted on tagging along on a mission with Leo and Mikey

- HOLY MOLY LONG STORY SHORT, they get caught by a Krang soldier on their mission. But instead of taking cover, Donnie charges straight for the Krang mech

- Mikey and Leo watch in astonishment as Donnie manages to swiftly climb up onto the Krang mech and mount himself on its back, using his battle shell’s limbs for support

- To their horror, Donnie rips off his gloves and reveals his robotic arms, and starts tearing into the back of the mech, digging into the inside of it

- He deploys the wires and his own Krang biomass from his robotic arms, and shoves it all into the back of the Krang mech

- For a few moments, he struggles. Then, with purple glowing markings, his expression suddenly changes and the opening where the Krang soldier was mounted closed up, crushing the Krang inside

-ok so longer story shorter- through all of the struggle, the Krang he’d trapped in his prosthetic arms had been creeping onto him and was soon to make contact with his skin. And the building they were all in starts to collapse, (and when I say “building” I mean a giant NY style skyscraper,) and in an effort to save Mikey and Leo from being crushed, Donnie holds up what rubble he can with the now possessed mech, getting himself crushed, unable to hold up all the weight forever.

(But not before an epic and heartfelt monologue and musical number.)

Good god I’m so EMBARRASSING

I wish. I could wright fanfiction.

Goodbye now 🏃💨

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[1:18 pm]

(cw: a child, parent!au)

a/n: art was found on Pinterest but all credit for all cuteness goes to annalaura_art on ig

Dad!Jungwoo blew his nose for what felt like the hundredth time today. The tiny trash can beside the bed had already been filled up, the bedside table covered with used cups, empty bottles of water, medicines, and wrappers. He was tired. Yes, his body felt fatigued, his eyes felt heavy, his ears were blocked, and his throat tickled if he spoke louder than a whisper, but he could handle that!

What he missed was his family. He missed cuddling you in bed, falling asleep next to you, your daughter sneaking into the bed with you both to sleep, playing with her, and spending phlegm-free time with the both of you. All the little things had gone away a day or two after his cold symptoms had become worst, on his own insistence, which he now regretted.

The bed had never felt colder, he'd never felt so lonely with his family just a few yards away. His days were passed breathing through his mouth, watching the TV in the room with droopy eyes. He drank the tea you placed on the nightstand and sipped the soups.

Today was another one of those days. Instead of your usual soft knock and sympathetic eyes, Jungwoo heard a softer knock paired with, "go ahead, baby. Be careful."

He turned to look at the door waiting to see what was coming. He felt his heart melt as his daughter walked in holding a tray that was almost heavier than she was. She took slow, cautious steps, everything on the tray shaking with every tiny shuffle she took.

Most of her tiny face was covered with a mask, tiny hands covered by plastic gloves, and she was wearing her doctor costume. He took the tray from her as she smiled behind the mask, "I made you lunch Appa! You got tea, soup, crackers, and fruit. I did it by myself!"

Jungwoo glanced up at you to see is she was right, to which you silently shook your head. There was no way you would let your 4 year old handle cutting up fruit or handle hot liquids. She cut up the fruits with a plastic knife and put the crackers on the plate.

"Wow, my love. Thank you baby," he whispered as loud as he could. She climbed up the bed, crawling over his legs and he could have cried at how much he missed her bony knees digging into his shins.

While you moved around the room and cleaned up, his daughter sat beside him and pulled her play doctor toys and began "checking his vitals." Her play stethoscope was pressed to his chest while he ate, she took the blood pressure on his wrist, checked his ears, and when he went to take a sip of the tea, she shoved a play thermometer in his mouth which made him choke.

"Happy face, you're all better! Take your medicine!" She cheered, grabbing at the pills on the tray to hold them out to Jungwoo.

He took them from her hand, popping them into his mouth one at a time, "all done, thank you Doctor Baby."

She rolled her eyes, "not a baby, Appa."

He laughed, coughing a little when the tickle returned, "oh, I'm so sorry, my big girl."

You returned to the room, watching as she scrambled off the bed in 4 year old panic, "are you feeling better yet? Your daughter is a crazier sleeper than you."

Jungwoo felt his heart melt all over again. After he'd kicked you out, you'd taken to sharing your daughter's bed with the girl who more often that not woke up hanging off the bed head first.

He held your hand, " just want to get through the night without coughing. I really don't want either of you to get sick from me."

You pat his hand, intertwining his fingers with yours as your daughter came running back. She placed a bandaid on his nose and then gave him a picture. A picture with people with long legs, small bodies and huge heads. Her writing was at the top, covered by a rainbow.

"It's for you! It says get better, Appa!" She smiled from her spot at his side.

His brows furrowed slightly as he read the writing. 'git badr aqqa' he read, "wow, my love. It's beautiful. Thank you."

"Ok, all better. Let's go play," she demanded, pulling his hand from yours to tug him to stand.

You pouted, "actually! Someone is ready for a nap, let's go Missy. Tell Appa bye and let's go."

"Play later, ok? Bye Appa." Jungwoo swears he feels his heart break a little when he's left alone again, until he realizes your daughter successfully snuck in her favorite stuffed animal again.