#sorry for the posting delay i got distracted

[illuminatedferret]

Hey Em! Congrats on all the amazing writing! Now I'm gonna nicely ask you to do more with this prompt: River <3

alright you successfully tricked me with suggesting I sprint this prompt so it got a solid hundred words or so longer than I usually let them. Curse you!!! /joking

Have hualian on a boat!

-

The rocking of the boat was gentle, and clearly soothed Xie Lian. Hua Cheng smiled lightly, looking down at his husband. The scrap god was cuddled up close, head propped up against his shoulder with one arm wrapped around his waist. He stared out at the river and its passing banks placidly. His thumb, pressed above Hua Cheng’s silver belt, rubbed back and forth softly. Hua Cheng wasn’t sure he’d even noticed.

“Mm, San Lang...” Xie Lian said quietly. “It’s been ages since I had such a nice boat ride.”

“I could make it better,” Hua Cheng offered. This had been a spur-of-the-moment decision, prompted by a story of Xie Lian’s second banishment and a river dock located conveniently nearby. This was a simple boat Hua Cheng had bought off the first guy whose boat wasn’t falling apart. It was bare and unfurnished and small enough that the two of them had to press close to fit. It was nothing compared to what he could give Xie Lian with a little more time. However, Xie Lian shook his head.

“No,” he said. “I like this. San Lang would give me some big, fancy boat if I asked, but we would need servants to staff the boat. I like just having you.”

With warmth kindling in his chest (like that warmth ever went out), Hua Cheng carefully pressed his lips together.

“I’m glad to know gege only wants me,” he said, restraint quickly caving to mischief. He laughed, a bark of a sound, when Xie Lian dug his thumb into his side in response. He meant no harm, but the precision of the most skilled martial god in all the heavens was nothing to shake a finger at.

“Who else would I want?” Xie Lian asked, half-plaintive, half-humorously. “San Lang, you know what I meant.”

Hua Cheng, smiling, pressed a kiss to the top of his husband’s head. It ended only when Xie Lian pushed himself up, seeking a more intimate sort of kiss.

“Mm, I see,” Hua Cheng spoke in a low tone when they parted. Xie Lian had turned himself around to reach his mouth, and was now nearly lying atop him, careless with his body the way only a lover could be. Hua Cheng couldn’t resist grabbing his waist, pulling him closer and luxuriating in the warmth of his body. “Good point. If the boat was staffed, we couldn’t do this.”

They absolutely could ‘do this’, but his darling prince had a lot of hang-ups about... amorous activity around others, and a boat could be a tricky place to get him to forget that. Ah, perhaps a viewing platform above the deck, carefully shielded to suppress noise...

Xie Lian flushed. “San Lang,” he complained softly, but his fingers, tellingly, rubbed the catch of his belt.

Yes... he would have to come back to this later. For now, there were more important things at hand.

[jtownraindancer]

i've been meaning to read through all the charlie/the scientist fics on ao3, just have not yet found the time, but do you happen to recommend any of them?

Oh do I!

Anon, I'm delighted you're sending me this. I've fallen so hard for this pairing, and I never get the chance to talk about them. In no particular order, here are my favorite Charlie/Scientist fics from AO3, and why I love each of them so much:

holding you is bettering me by wobbeegong: Charlie spills potentially dangerous lab chemicals on his clothes and proceeds to wear his dirty laundry for two months. The Scientist falls in love with him anyway.

I absolutely adore this fic, and I've come back to it many times. It has a slow enough build, cats, awkward miscommunications, typical shenanigans via The Gang, and it's written in a way that feels natural to the characters. It's written in Charlie's POV, which honestly makes watching Doc grow more and more smitten even more adorable in my eyes.

My Funny Valentine by notastranger: Charlie has to work on Valentine's Day, but that's not going to stop him from celebrating the holiday.

Oh my goodness do I enjoy this one. This is a part of notastranger's series The Adventures of Charlie and Scientist, after the two have been together for some time. We get the chance to see Charlie's more romantic side, Dennis being lowkey jealous, and Doc being just a wee bit territorial. I highly recommend this whole series, but out of all of them this is the one I come back to most.

Doc Takes a Risk by Springandastorm: This fic has it all: katana schemes, incompetent police, love confessions... Basically Doc decides to finally tell Charlie how he feels. What could go wrong?

The story opens in Doc's POV, and it is just so full of warmth and love that I melt every single time. And of course to balance it all out, you have The Gang scheming, Charlie's complete inability to read a situation correctly, a much beloved kitty cat, and a flowing dialogue that feels canonly episodic. It's also a part of a series, charbitch<3, and I do highly recommend taking a trip through them all.

The Charlie Effect by Vituperative_cupcakes: The science bitch proposes a new experiment, one that involves studying Charlie up close and personal for an extended length of time. However, his subject has an infectious personality and it becomes hard to remain objective. Will science triumph or will he fall prey to the Charlie effect?

My god I love these two idiots. Doc (at this point it's just his name to me) decides to run another round of pills with Charlie, opting instead to do the observations himself. What follows is an almost epic tale involving knife-gloves, beat-boxing karaoke, disturbing heart-to-hearts with Frank Reynolds, and a healthy dose of blackmailing one's student. This one is always a fun ride!

The Gang Destroys the Science Bitch by WaldosAkimbo: The shouting escalated to threats, violence, and incoherent rage as the three pointed around, here, there, over there. The bar itself put into question. Because nobody. Goddamn nobody wanted to be left to do Charlie Work while Charlie was out…on a fucking vacation.

There are... There are so many things I love about this fic. The episodic feel, the characterizations for The Gang, the guest appearance, Charlie once again being one of the smartest people in the room, Doc being Fed Up, the comfort at the end. It's part of a bigger series called Charlie and The Scientist- A Study in Mutually Beneficial Affection.

The Long Game by IncongruentDesignations: See, Charlie can be kind of dumb, at times. But that doesn't mean he can't read.

Okay, so if you've been reading my Sunny tags for a while, you probably know that I think Charlie is actually far more intelligent than he lets on. And this one-shot? This is written by someone who feels almost the same way. If you're a fan of a smart, manipulative Charlie Kelly who has a rich life outside of The Gang, this one is for you. My only complaint is that there isn't more to it; I really wish it was longer because I'm genuinely obsessed with the premise.

doctor, doctor (give me the news) by ApprenticeofDoyle: Charlie gets knifed, and makes a friend.

Thanks for the ask, Anon! Happy reading!

Okay, I lied; this may be my favorite- well, 1/4 of my favorite anyway. This is the first installment of a four part series called doc and dayman, and I am in love.

This first installment focuses on just how Charlie and Calvin actually start to get to know one another, and sets the building blocks for the next few installments.

I don't- I don't want to give away too much, but this series is the Charlie/Scientist saga that I turn to whenever I want to read something comforting. It has so many highlights for me: Charlie discovering manicotti, Mac developing a conspiracy theory, an amazing approach to writing a demi character with lingering trauma, Burn Calvin repeatedly getting to be a badass, Charlie Kelly getting the loving support he needs, dorks being in love-

Just, please, trust me. This one is definitely worth the read!

[countthelions]

My beautiful beautiful beautiful coasters from @ditsyknits!!! They've gotten tons of use exactly as I was hoping 💕💕💕

[stergeon]

#017a | << | <- | -> | JOURNAL | HOW TO PLAY | ALL POSTS

[bitchfitch]

Ren, Atlas, Romilly, and Seraphina for @inkorstardust!

[aiteanngaelach]

Do you realize that the more you talk about/interact with content about a specific topic or person, the more you’ll see about it? It’s the Tumblr algorithm. If you don’t want to see anything about the Oscars, maybe just don’t like, talk about it or go out of your way to make a post about it using hashtags? Because you quite literally just told the algorithm that it’s a topic you’re interested in lol. That’s like going “I hate flowers, so I’m gonna go to the flowers tag and tell everyone that DOES like flowers to not post about it anymore or they’ll be bLoCkEd” but all Tumblr sees is you interacting with flowers content and posting about it, so they’ll show you more lmao. You can protest the oscars as much or as little as you want, but that doesn’t mean every other person on the internet has to or wants to do the same lmao like tbh I had no idea there even WAS a protest against watching the Oscars?

níl mé ag léamh sin go léir 🙏

[y13evie]

141 + konig, Alejandro, and Rudy with an S/O that has thick thighs

141 + koni, alejandro, n rudy with a s/o that’s got thickkk thighs

a/n: im so sorry for the delay in posts but i trust have sm to post yall don’t even worry

mainly cutesy stuff with some suggestive moments

john price loves how your thighs hug any pants you wear. he loves to keep a spare hand on them whenever he’s next to you, whether that is in a meeting or just relaxing on the couch. he believes that your thighs make your body just that much more perfect.

simon riley is obsessed with the shape of your thighs. he believes that they’re plush pillows that were made specifically for him to lay on. not even in a sexual way, he loves kissing up and down your thighs. the soft skin makes it a luxury experience for him.

johnny mactavish thinks your thighs are the best part of your body. of course he adores your face, but the way your thighs get bigger when you sit down, almost welcoming him to use them as pillows. he loves the way they grip around him when you’re on top.

kyle garrick believes being between your thighs is heaven on earth. in a sexual and non sexual manner. he loves sitting between your thighs and letting you stroke through his hair. he listens to you talk about your day but tends to get distracted by thinking about what your reaction would be if he flipped his head over.

könig LUUVSSSS how your thighs look in shorts. good lord omg. like you’ll just be walking around base and it takes everything in that tank of a man to not put you on the countertops and. i mean what omg lol. but he’ll also love up on you if you ever get self conscious about stretch marks, reassuring you it just adds to your perfections.

alejandro vargas is a slut for your thighs, sorry. the way they’re like the foundation of your body’s shape drives him insane. especially if you’re going out to an event and decide to wear a risqué dress, exposing the plush skin to everybody there. when you get home he’ll make sure to teach you a lesson.

rudy parra loves massaging your thighs. you’re not sure how it started. whenever he gets home from a particularly rough mission or if he just needs intimate time with you, he’ll make you lay down and allow him to massage them. it’s stress relieving for both you and him. rudy can’t help himself, not his fault your build is perfect.

[kithtaehyung]

bet wrong (3tan717) | myg

drabble: bet wrong pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f)  series: masterlist | three tangerines | 3tan717 | one  rating/genre: pg (18+) ; angst , fluff ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: after seeing how comfortable yoongi is in his place with your brother and their friends, it’s hard for you to leave… but it’s also hard for you to stay. note: apologies for all the late postings! but kim yeji’s aura was so strong it made me write about her so here we are hahaha. it's not really edited cus i just wrote this up and posted so apologies for any mistakes! note 2: this is in a pocket universe in the three tangerines series, so if you haven’t read the series yet, these characters would make more sense if you did hehe. even though this is very heavily influenced by the olympics, i’m keeping it as easy to read as i can. you can imagine them watching any of the events happening lol warnings: 3tan yoongi as always, angst, olympics talk, yoongi fights back??, the Yearning is Strong, reader is a tease, shiv is back!, brother and jimin are dorks, but so is everyone else, yoongi on the phone, he's so down bad y'all i wanna cry :(( drop date: august 1st, 2024, 7:17pm est word count: 2.3k (just like the first drabble omg?)

—

—

“Hey, you made it!”

“Oh, shit, look who’s here!”

After a quick greeting to everyone in Yoongi’s living room, you slip off your shoes with a distracted, “I can’t stay long but, I’m here!”

Even though the handsome devil next to you shoots a look, it’s your brother that speaks up, “Wait, why?”

“I’m meeting my friends in a bit.” You hand a still-quiet Yoongi some snacks you brought for everyone, asking a question with a very obvious answer, “Where should I put these?”

He blinks before forcing out, “Over here.”

“K.”

Sounds of conversation and sports games spring about. Jimin’s clearly in some sort of squabble with your brother and Shiv is fanning the flames. There’s a couple guys you recognize but don’t really know talking on the opposite side of the coffee table, but they’re all watching the Olympics and giving their own comments. 

Hopefully it’s noisy enough to shroud your dizzying thoughts. Because Yoongi looks damn good in his casual fit and his hair speaks volumes. 

What you would give to run your fingers through those waves. Following him through his bustling apartment is already giving you the shivers, so what would a sudden touch feel like? A burst of fire?

“I’ll take those,” he instructs, taking the bags from you and pulling everything out with crinkles. When he sees a certain bag, his blinks make you giggle.

It’s a specific chip he likes, recently divulged during a long night of learning things about one another—like favorite foods, and how fast or slow he likes you riding. 

So of course you threw it in your basket before heading over. 

Commentators make conversation on the television as you shrug, “Don’t ask me, I dunno how those got in there.”

God, that smile always makes you melt. And he proceeds to turn you into mush as he shows gratitude under his breath,

“Thanks, doll.”

“Seriously, I think they just handed me those,” you joke, trying your best to not do any of the million and three things you want to. “Said I was cute or something.”

His laugh is immediate. But it’s shoved away by cheers and yells, and both of you pop out of the kitchen to see what happened on the tv.

Something big must have went down because even Yoongi reacts, scaring you with a delayed reaction,

“Holy shit, what happened? Sorry,” he immediately apologizes at your flinch, putting a daring but comforting hand on your lower back before making his way to the group.

Did he really just…

He is lucky your brother didn’t see from the other side of the couch. 

That was the boldest Yoongi’s ever been and he’s quite literally kissed you in your kitchen. 

“Yeji got silver.”

“What? Wait, run it back!”

“I thought she'd take it!"

Chill out. Relax, relax, relax. Everyone else is clearly entranced by whatever happened and no one is even looking at you. Relax.

But damn, that touch meant a lot more than an apology. 

Seems like the one vocally surprised at the replay wants to do a million and three things, too. 

On your emotional decrescendo, you scuttle back to grab a plastic cup. No use in trying to join them anyway. All you can do for now is get a drink in a kitchen you’re not supposed to know your way around.

Being in his place while your brother is too is quite the experience. 

However. 

This is absolutely the ideal situation you should be in. You would be the one showing up at Yoongi’s at the invitation of your brother, and it would be a small party where you blend right into the background with minimal interaction. 

But of course, the feelings of distance and guilt creep onto your feet, rooting you in place and forcing you to watch from afar. 

They’re all checking their phones and pointing at each other—accusingly? Excitedly?—before switching between different games on the tv and yelling at each other. 

And while you adore them for being such lovable geeks about this, your eyes cannot stop pinning Yoongi with longing. He’s so radiant doing the most normal things, and his eyes have that sparkle they get when he’s comfortable and at home. 

He’s perfect.

Your heart’s warm.

And the cup in your hand never touches your mouth.

—

—

After you take a seat at his dining table—yet another thing you should not know anything about—you cycle between watching them interact and scrolling on your apps. 

At first, you thought you were safe. Staying in the back and letting them have their own time together is good enough for you, especially since you were invited by your brother to stop by.

Really, you were just a courier for food they wanted. 

But it was on the way. And it’s a chance to see someone you’ve been missing.

So of course you faked reluctance to come.

The plan was to do exactly this. Hang back until you had to leave, maybe have a bite or two, and try hard not to yearn for Yoongi too long.

Failed step three.

But also now step one, because Shiv decides to twist around to yell, “Hey! Come join us!” 

“I’m good over here,” you reply, smiling when he gives you a look. 

“Suit yourself!” 

One of the guys you recognize but don’t really know gets off the couch to head into the kitchen, asking a question as he opens the fridge.

Wait, he’s asking you something? You?

You leave your chair so you can hear him better, and when he repeats his question you respond.

“Want a drink?”

“Oh, uhh. Sure.”

“Pick your poison. Yoongi doesn’t have much but it’s all strong.”

He’s pretty cute. But then again, all your brother’s friends seem to end up this way. “Water’s fine,” you say with a light smile. “I have to be somewhere else in a minute.”

“Leaving so soon?” He grabs a cup to fill with your choice before handing it over. Leaning against the same counter Yoongi has smushed you against many times, the man takes a sip of his beer. “You just got here.”

“I was told to bring food.”

“Ah, come on. You can stay a bit.”

Uh huh.

Bold choice to be flirting with the company present today.

But you know what to do. Swerve. “What even happened back there? You guys scared the shit outta me.”

From the creases of his eyes, your plan works. “Oh, Yeji? She was supposed to win gold.”

“Feel like she won anyway.”

You both snap your heads over to the kitchen threshold, and your stomach could win a floor routine with the amount of flips it completes. “How come?” You decide to ask, throwing both guys for a loop.

It’s Yoongi that responds first, “She’s trending from a video back in May.”

“Oh, shit, really?” 

“Fucking boss. But yeah, none of us got that one right,” his friend responds, which leaves you intrigued. 

“Got it right?”

“Mmhmm. We picked her for gold.” Glancing over at Yoongi now crossing between to get to his fridge, he claps his back. “Even this guy bet wrong and he’s usually right.”

“Bet with my heart,” your secret drones as he cracks open a bottle. 

“We all did, bro.”

Fucking hell, that move was hotter than it should’ve been.

But now you’re kinda invested in what they’re all doing, so you ask how the whole thing works.

Which leads you to sitting in the living room with everyone three whole minutes later.

“So all of these are events, and I pick what I think happens?”

“Yup!”

“Good luck.”

“Choose quick, the next games start soon.”

Everyone’s eyes are on your paper as you look at the options, with some laughs and comments as you circle your choices.

“Mm, I dunno about that one.”

“Hey, hey, no help.”

You glance at your brother and Yoongi before laughing, “I have no idea what I’m doing but this is fun.”

Their amusement is noticeable.

“If you get any of those right, I’ll be surprised,” your sibling teases, earning a laugh from Yoongi and a counterpoint from Jimin,

“Dark horse?”

“Nah, no chance.”

Park’s shoulders raise as he smirks. “It's all luck, you never know..”

Huffing, you pretend to have confidence for days, just happy that you get to be involved and not hang back like the initial plan. “Yeah, I have masterclass intuition, don’t you know?” 

Reactions pop and fizz around you.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Master class, huh..”

“We have a hustler here!”

Your eyes drift to Yoongi’s at Shiv's comment, and you both share a quick, mirth-filled, intimate stare.

This really is a lot more fun already. 

Your phone buzzing is the one thing that interrupts, and you immediately feel relieved and saddened by the fact that you have to go.

Finishing up, you hand your brother your picks before standing, heading to the door and saying that you have to leave. 

“Wait, already?”

“Tell them you’re busy!”

“I kinda want to,” you admit, feeling a little shy at all the eyes on you. “But we’re watching a movie and tickets are stupid expensive now.”

Yoongi’s already next to you as he waits to let you out. “You okay to drive?”

“Me? Oh, yeah, I just had water.”

“K.”

Why does he have to be so considerate right now? Now you just wanna stay here instead of sit through whatever movie your friends picked!

“Be careful,” your brother comments from the living room, and you wave goodbye.

“I will. Y’all have fun!”

“Okay!”

Facing Yoongi, you wanna do so many things. Hug him, hold him, kiss the shit out of him for his exuding presence in the kitchen earlier. 

“Thanks for the food.”

But you obviously can’t.

So you settle for giving him a smile. “Thanks for letting me come over,” you decide to say. “Have fun tonight.”

You get a small lift of his lips in return. “You, too.”

“Yeah.. I’ll try.”

Hearing sounds from outside as you walk to your car, you feel the loneliest imaginable. 

But alas.

It’s still not your place to stay.

—

—

Much, much later, you check your phone after the movie ends and you’re all walking out. While the girls are busy discussing the movie and Taehyung's checking his phone, you're greeted with two very surprising keystrokes.

Yoongi [9:30pm]: :( 

He texted that so long ago. Did something happen?

You [10:34pm]: you ok?

All of you talk for just a little longer. When you finally get into your car, you wave goodbye at everyone before looking at your device again, wondering what the heck warranted this rogue of a text.

Yoongi [10:40pm]: Yeah

Yoongi [10:40pm]: Just miss you

Well, fuck.

Heart clenching, your fingers skirt across the screen.

You [10:45pm]: i miss you too.. i didn’t wanna leave😭

Yoongi [10:45pm]: You did though😔

There are plenty of people in the lot. Many people walking past as you wait in your car. 

And all you can do is stare at your screen. 

Is… Is he drunk?

Yoongi [10:46pm]: So now you have to make it up to me :) 

That catches you so off-guard you scoff at your screen through a smile. 

You [10:46pm]: don’t be a loser!! 

Yoongi [10:46pm]: I’m your loser 

Cheeks hurting from your shy as hell grin, you bite your lip to keep your screams from alerting people in the nearby theatre. 

How dare this man be this bold when your brother is over there! 

If he’s gonna keep this shocking behavior up, who are you to not play into it? You fucking miss him and imagining being there and being yourselves—your true selves—makes your chest clench. 

You [10:46pm]: not today you weren’t :\

And now you have to make the drive to a house that no one's occupying.

This is so hard. So, so hard. 

But you have to keep going until that one day comes. If it ever does. The day you can do whatever you want with the man you’d fight the universe for? No one will know how to react, and frankly you don’t give a shit about that.

And then you wonder.

Does Yoongi feel the same?

Yoongi [10:48pm]: They're still here

Yoongi [10:48pm]: You down to come back?

Oh.

You are.

Yes, yes, yes you are.

Grateful eyes shut, forehead hitting your steering wheel and heart hurting but still burning lovingly.

There’s no fighting how desperately you want to see him. Especially after seeing him so happy earlier today. Of course you’re going to go. You’d cross mountains even if that meant you’d only get to see him from afar. 

Because—and this you know for sure—he would do the same. 

...But that doesn't mean you won't prank him just a little bit.

You [10:49pm]: don't bet on it w ur heart again💕

Buzzing with excitement, you start your car and pull out of the lot, calling your brother and letting him know you’re coming back.

“K! You gonna bring food again?”

Normally, you would say fuck no and hang up. But you’re so elated you get to go back, and imagining Yoongi's shock makes you laugh. “Yeah, yeah, what do y’all want?” 

“Wait, really? Hey! What do we want for dinner—”

“Wait!” You interject, something pinging into your mind and igniting your curiosity. “How are my picks doing?” 

There’s a scuffle on the line, and you can hear your brother complain, Jimin laugh, and a very, very familiar voice answer from your brother’s phone. 

Because Yoongi’s voice drones so beautifully through the speaker, and you can’t stop your cackling when he responds, 

“Turns out Jimin was right.” 

“Damn, I'm the best,” you boast, earning a loud laugh from him and welcoming the way your cheeks hurt with open arms. “Show me that video you were talking about when I get there?”

This is safe to say. It's all you really can say.

There's a little bit of silence before he answers how he can, too.

“Yeah, I will.” 

Mm. Maybe Yoongi does feel the same.

“Nice," you whisper. Lips curved up in hope, you keep your voice neutral, “See you soon!” 

Again, he responds how he's supposed to. And right after, you both hang up exactly as expected.

For now.

“See you soon.” 

—

—

—

fin. :)

-

how did the second 717 drabble go! | join the discord hehe | three tangerines

a/n: love you love you love you. that's really all i can say. but also, here's the video of kim yeji being an absolute badass in may and i cannot stop thinking about her GAHHHHHH and now the guy from turkey?? hello?? this year is so fun and interesting istg!!

[essiemclaren]

watch me win

in which lando was paid to fake date y/n!

pairing: mean!lando x reader

tw: cursing and rude behavior

-

day 1

lando's text with reader

reader's post on twitter/x

lando's text with reader

lando's text with his friends

-

He said yes to his friend Stroll’s offer, not because he needed the money. He was doing it for fun and because he was bored. The dare to date her for the whole month of August sounds like the perfect distraction. The challenge was simple: make her fall for him and then crush her heart on the last day. It was cruel, but that’s what made it exciting for him. Lando already had a list in his mind of all the dates they would go on, each carefully planned to make her fall deeper for him. He wasn’t playing the attentive boyfriend yet—no, he was testing the waters, seeing how easily she could be swayed. “Oh, I’m a very good listener,” he said in the middle of their conversation. In his mind, he added, “I’ll even keep notes of all your little secrets and insecurities.” Of course, he meant every word, but not in the way she thought.

After their first outing, he only knew the basics: her favorite color, the subjects she hated, and that she loved chocolate croissants. But even these small details were enough to start his list. “Eager to please,” he noted when she laughed too hard at his jokes. “Seeks approval,” he added after she asked him what he thought about her favorite book. It was almost too easy. Lando took pleasure in knowing that every sweet word he whispered to her was a lie, every smile a part of his act.

He watched her closely, mentally preparing for the deeper truths she would eventually reveal. Each fact she shared was a potential weapon in his arsenal. She had no idea that he was already plotting how to use her own words against her. The game had just begun, and she was already falling into his trap. She was just a pawn in his game, a temporary amusement to stave off his boredom. Lando couldn’t wait for the day when he would reveal the truth. He felt a twisted sense of satisfaction imagining her face crumpling in realization. This was going to be fun and he is determined to win.

--

a/n: NOT THE UPDATE YOU WERE WAITING FOR IM SORRY 💔 but this has been sitting in my drafts for too long! to the anon who requested this, im sorry for delaying this PLEASE FORGIVE ME 😩🙏 but i hope i got your request right 🩷

i think im going to make this as a short series! let me know if you like this!!! 😩 ask for a tag 🫶

love from essie 🫂

[gogobootz1]

The Mentor

Finnick Odair x Reader

Summary: As a mentor, you do your best to help your tributes. When one of them turns into a victor, she knows just how to embarrass you in front of people you’d like to impress.

part two | part three

You whisk through the backstage hallways of the filming center, wet hair whipping as you turn corners. You’re on a mission. Apparently your tribute, now victor, is having a total breakdown.

Your fellow mentor told you he could absolutely handle her post-games interview. Clearly not, though, since your phone wouldn’t stop ringing while you sat at the bottom of your shower. When you finally pulled yourself out of your stupor to answer it, the district ten escort was on the phone begging you to get down here and fix her. You thought she was exaggerating until your stylist came on and told you it was bad. At that point, you threw on the closest clothes you could find and flew out of the apartment.

Darla is a sweet girl, and you’ve grown quite fond of her. You busted your ass getting her sponsors. Every year you try your best, but you thought she had a good chance and she proved you right. Seeing her in the hospital bed, though, you knew she was different. You thought something like this might happen, but you didn’t think it would happen during your shower.

Rushing around another corner, you crash right into another body.

“Sorry!” You try to quickly remove your hands from where you’d steadied yourself, and sidestep this new obstacle.

“What’s the rush?” The obstacle won’t quite let go of you, though. Now interrupted from your task, you look up to recognize the person in your way. Finnick Odair. It couldn’t have been anyone else?

“Emergency,” you quickly dismiss, trying to get by him again. If you look into his eyes you will be thoroughly distracted. You generally try to avoid Finnick at all costs. His intense stare makes you rather nervous.

“Everything ok?” He raises a brow.

“It will be when I get through here,” you start to get antsy. You tend to accidentally default to short and rude with him.

He lets out a scoff of a chuckle, “you’re a tough egg to crack, you know that?”

You’re really not. The Capitol knows you as the gentle victor, who often visits classrooms and reads to children. You guest star on daytime Capitol tv, making some of your favorite recipes in your houses’s enormous kitchen. You’ve designed gardens and parks and are generally well liked here for your friendliness.

“Look,” you huff, “Darla’s in trouble.” This, at least, you know he’ll understand. “Let me through so I can help her.”

“That’s why everything’s been delayed?” He asks. He’s right, too. The time it’s taken you to get dressed, get a car, and get here is all time that Darla should’ve been on air.

“Finnick,” you snap.

He steps aside in an instant, “good luck.”

You breeze past him.

“Mother hen is a good look on you,” you hear from behind you.

“Shut up,” you bark over your shoulder.

Back on track, you quickly find the right door. Whipping it open and rushing in, the entire district ten beauty team turns to look at you. Their eyes are wide and they look quite upset.

“She’s been staring at the wall since before we called you,” the hairstylist whispers, quickly rushing up to you and taking your hand. You instantly tug it away, they are not your priority.

You breeze past them and slowly approach where Darla is sat. She faces away from you, and is curled up in a ball staring at the wall. Quietly, you sit parallel to her and enjoy a similar view of the wall.

“Hey, D,” you say quietly. Taking a slow approach will probably be more effective than trying to force her up. You’re certain the beauty team tried that approach, but quickly got scared.

She’s silent for a bit, “I can’t do this.” Her voice comes as a relief to you.

You hate what you’re about to tell her. You’d really rather whisk her away back to the apartments, but there’s not exactly another option here. “Look at me, honey, yes you can.”

“No, I-“

“Darla, you can.” You try to be firm, but it falls short.

“You don’t under-“

“Now I know you weren’t gonna say I don’t understand. Baby, I might just be the only one who does.”

Darla starts to cry, and suddenly she looks her age. In this moment she’s not a victor. She’s just a sixteen year old who’s been through far more than she should. You move from your spot to embrace her.

“I know, honey. I’ve been here. Sometimes I’m still here. I know. But they don’t- and they can’t.” You say as you hold her close to your heart.

“So what do I do?” You pull away to see her teary face. You rise to your feet and slowly pull her with you.

“We’re gonna clean you up, and send you out there good as new,” you say, trying to imbue some confidence in her.

Darla’s eyes widen in fear.

“Relax, honey, we’ve got time,” you wipe her teary cheeks. You wave the makeup artist over, as you sit Darla in a chair. “Now in the meantime,” you start, pouring a glass of water and forcing it into Darla’s hand, “I’m gonna tell you a story. How’s that sound?”

Darla nods reluctantly, taking in ice water through the straw. You sit on the glass coffee table in front of the girl as the makeup artist gets to work.

“Now this happened a looooong time ago- back when I was ten. It was a bright summer’s day on the ranch, and I was up nice and early when my Paw came up and told me he’d lost his wedding ring. Now, my Nana was an insightful gal- if she had noticed (and believe me she would’ve) she’d have pitched a fit.

So I was enlisted to help him find it. Well, we searched everywhere. All around the house, the garage- no luck. Finally, we headed out to the pasture. We were digging through manure, when suddenly my foot sank into a pothole and I went flying toward the ground. I landed face first in an enormous pile of shit. But that’s not the worst of it- ohhh no.

When I pushed myself off the ground, I saw my nana had come home. She’d brought four of her friends and all of their grandkids. That included little Jimmy Price, who I happened to be enamored with. (Not that I ever spoke to him since I was so shy.) And in that moment, my Paw, back turned to the whole thing, held up his ring and shouted ‘found it!’ Only to turn and find me covered in cow poop and his wife watching with all her friends.”

Darla smiles a bit at your misfortune, “so he found the ring in the poop?”

“Oh no,” you shake your head, “it was in his pocket all along.” Darla cackles this, nearly messing up the eyeliner her makeup artist tries to fix from her earlier tears.

“So what was the lesson in this fable?” Darla asks teasingly.

“Oh none,” you reply innocently, but a smirk grows on your face, “but at least you’re not heading out there covered in cow shit.” Darla grins and shakes her head, feeling up to the task now. The makeup artist nods at you and dashes from the room.

“Now honey,” you start, pulling Darla up from her chair, “you just blame your tardiness on me. Tell Caesar I was fawning all over you like a mother hen.” At least something useful came out of your run in with the Capitol’s darling.

Darla smiles a little, nodding. “And remember, just be your charming self- everyone here adores you,” you remind her. She seems a lot better now.

“Oh hey, where were you earlier?” Darla asks, about to head out the door.

“I’ll tell you when you’re older.” You tell her, smile dimming.

“Now you really sound like my mother,” Darla quips back, and you grin again.

With that, a stagehand pulls Darla away to where Caesar’s been waiting. There’s not much else you can do for the girl now. Out of your hands and into the Capitol’s. You can only hope Darla won’t freeze feeling all their eyes upon her.

You shouldn’t have been worried, though. Darla nails her post-games interview. The audience finds it adorable when the girl says she took so long because her mentor was fussing over her hair and her dress.

“You wouldn’t think it- but she’s a real mother hen.” Darla says, and you smile as you watch from backstage. The audience erupts into a gleeful sort of laughter at the comment.

Caesar knows just what to do with it, too, “well it’s no wonder, I’m sure you’ve made her proud!” Darla beams, and very convincingly so. “Let’s take a look back at Darla’s games!”

To your great relief, Darla holds it together through the recap. The girl gets boisterous applause as the leaves the stage, then comes flying into your arms once she’s out of sight. The force of it makes you stumble, but you quickly plant your feet and return the hug.

“You did great, kiddo,” you tell your tribute.

“Thanks!” Darla replies, speaking loudly from the adrenaline rush, “and thanks for telling me about when you face planted in a pile of cow poop back home, it really helped!”

Every single person milling around backstage turns to look at you when Darla says it. Not that the girl notices the extra eyes.

You drop your chin, trying to avoid the stares of these people. This is what you get for comforting her at your own expense. Taking a calming breath, you look up only to meet a pair of sea-green eyes.

Of course Finnick Odair heard that, and of course he’s smirking teasingly at you.

Like Jimmy Price all over again.

You stick your tongue out at him.

———————————————————

I did not edit this so I hope it’s ok lmao. The new hunger games movie was great so ofc finnick’s been on the brain

[shiny-jr]

Get you a guy with thighs bigger than yours.

- Warning: Gender-neutral reader. 

- Characters: König.

- Summary: Thick thighs do not save lives.

- Note: This came about because I was just talking crazy in the dms with a mutual. I originally wasn't going to ever let this see the light of day, but then I decided, why the hell not? If I get smacked with delayed embarrassment, I'll just delete. Yeah, I know this isn't what I usually write and post, but oh well. Anyways, after this, we will be back to our regular scheduled content shortly. Oh, and sorry for minor mistakes, I wrote this like at midnight.

. . .

You decided to put a movie on. Just for a distraction. After about an hour into the movie, the leather couch got a bit uncomfortable since it stuck to your skin. So you slunk down to the floor, bringing a pillow or two down with you to use in case extra comfort was needed. The movie was beginning to lose your attention, but you still watched the screen attentively as if you were still focused on the film's plot.

What ended up catching your attention, was the slight shifting couch. Well, slight probably wasn't the correct word, as the movement was anything but light. It was safe to assume the shifting was from a guy who was well over 200 Ibs and a few inches short of 7 ft, although you didn't know the exact numbers because you never wanted to ask König outright.

It was easier to hear the movement, as the large figure scoot a few inches over. Instead of sitting beside you like he was a few seconds earlier, he had not so discreetly moved to take your vacant spot and sit directly behind you. He tried to stay quiet, he really did, but it wasn't so easy for him given his size. At the very least, he treaded carefully, not bumping your back once with his legs or accidentally knocking the back of your skull with his kneecaps.

You didn't move, but your eyes slowly glanced downward, where you could see the tip of his boots. Custom made, as most department stores didn't carry anything in his size. Most articles of clothing he had were custom-made or bought in special stores, save for that odd black diy mask he often wore over his head like a hood to hide himself from the world. Too afraid to lean back and accidentally make contact and disturb this fragile peace, you remain still despite the slight ache in your lower back that make you want to lean back and stretch. But you don't. All you could do was try to revert your attention back to the movie and not think any unholy thoughts, that is, until you heard more movement.

To not bump his knees against you, Konig spread his legs a bit and leaned down. The edges of his homemade cloth mask brushed against your back as you stiffened up, and you could make out the shape of his head beside yours as he whispered, "Do you, uh, want some...?"

Yes. "What???"

"Popcorn? Do you want some popcorn...??"

Oh.

After deciding whether or not you'd accept his offer, silence ensued, only fueled by the movie playing on the television. You weren't gonna lie, you have no idea what the hell was going on in the story anymore. A solid minute passed when he spoke again, sounding just as unsure as the first time. He spoke, as if whatever thoughts he had on his mind earlier where left to simmer for long enough.

"Scheiße. Sorry, should I have not moved here...? You can still lean back if you want?"

"Oh, okay... I, um, I'll do that."

Your back was starting to ache a little from sitting up without support, so, feeling just as awkward as he was feeling, you leaned your back against the couch. Instantly, as soon as you did that, your peripheral vision was covered by his knees and part of his legs. The movie was pretty much pointless now, as you were currently wondering whether you should thank whatever gods existed or curse them for the fact that König did not have shorts on. Even without shorts and with specially fitted cargo pants, they could not conceal the insane bulk of his legs. Especially his thighs. Good lord. The two pillows you brought down before from the couch were essentially useless now because on each side of your head were his limbs that rivaled the best of My Pillow.

Think of something else, anything else, is what you tried to tell yourself.

That idea would go out the window as soon as you felt something in your hair. Carefully twisting a few strands, you felt some thick and calloused fingers gently try and feel the texture of your hair. But it lasted only for a brief second, as he immediately pulled his hands away and murmured a tiny bit louder from his whisper earlier, "Ah, sorry, I should've asked first. I should not have done that. I am sorry––"

"It's okay, I... don't mind." You shrugged it off, and much to your surprise and contentment, he continued.

The first few seconds had a bit more hesitancy, but as time ticked by, seconds turned to minutes, his boldness increased. It started with his large hands carefully feeling the texture of your hair, then it became slow brush strokes as his thick fingers ever-so-carefully untangled knots in your stands of hair. Until eventually it escalated, and he gathered the courage to do something so bold as to scratch your skull. He could easily take your entire face in one hand and crush your skull, but he didn't. There was no sign of any such roughness. Instead, his fingers and nails continued to comb through your hair, lightly scratching your scalp. At first when he did this, he paused, and waited for any objections or signals of a negative reaction, but after no such thing, he continued and seemed pleased.

It was after about five-minutes and heavy mental debating in your mind that you decided to suck it up and go for it. What's the worst that could happen? Honestly, you didn't even expect to make it this far.

So, after taking in a breath, you let your head fall to the side. It wasn't like those romantic scenes where you watch the character lean their head against a love interest's shoulder. Oh no, you were skipping that part, your ear landed right on his thigh. Which was probably due to the cushion you placed underneath you on the floor that elevated you a few extra inches, or else you might've missed. In that moment, right as the side of your head landed on its intended target, you felt him freeze. His fingers stopping, nails still on your scalp. A second passed, then two, then three, like time froze.

You were almost tempted to pry yourself off and apologize, but you really didn't want to. But you had to ask. "Is this alright...?"

"J-Ja... I mean, yes..."

Your eyes widened, and you were sure you had on some goofy kinda grin but at least you weren't facing him so he couldn't tell. Once you heard his response, your shoulders slumped, relieved of tension you didn't even know you were carrying.

Even with your head against his thigh that wasn't plush but was still definitely comfortable, you realize you were no better than a man as you resisted the urge to just reach out and squeeze his other thigh that had gotten closer without you even realizing it. You had to dig your nails into your knee to prevent yourself from acting on impulse.

It was definitely almost pure muscle from what you could tell with your head on one of them. Firm but somehow still soft. Thick thighs, in fact, do not save lives, because these thighs have ended who knows how many between them in finishing moves on the battlefield. Lucky bastards. Trying your luck agian, you place a shaky hand on his other thigh, but he didn't react. A good sign? Possibly?

Forget goth gfs and thick plush thighs, apparently giant anxious austrian soldiers with thighs as thick as tree trunks and strong enough to obliterate skulls like melons were the new fad.

Movie totally forgotten, your vision was entirely covered when König leaned down a bit from his spot on the couch and you tilted your head to look up and meet his gaze. The masked man stared at you, his blue eyes peering down at you through the two small slits cut into his mask for his eyes to see. His mask partially dangled, but not fully, so not revealing himself to you. When your gaze traveled away, abruptly his thighs got closer, squishing your cheeks and the sides of your face but not enough to hurt. Just a bit of pressure to get you to look up again.

Oh god.

There was literally no space between your face and his legs anymore, and your arms instinctively went to the outer side of his thighs to try and pry them apart a bit. You didn't try much, maybe because you enjoyed it or because you didn't exactly have strength strong enough to rival his, so all you could do was clutch the pockets of his cargo pants that were just above his knees, your nails digging in softly just to get a quick feel.

Once he saw he had your attention again after he applied a bit of pressure, he cocked his head to the side and continued to look down at you through half-lidded eyes darkened by the shadow of his hood. Then he spoke, but this time with no apprehension in his quiet tone.

"You do know I've ruined others that were in a similar position to what you are in right now?"

[widowmaxff]

Hello!! I was having some bad days recently, could u make a one-shot of moms!wandanat and reader with the reader having a bad week, and then Wanda and Natasha comforts reader? If you want to, of course!

enough for you

pairings: parents!wandanat × daughter!reader

warnings: bad thoughts, self-deprecating reader, lots of crying, one agent who really needs to stfu - i think thats all!

a/n: tysm for the request my love! im so sorry for the delay in posting this one shot, my life has been very busy these last few months. and i dont think this one turns out the way u wanted it, because i already made one like your request but w mom!wanda but i hope u like it :3

HOW YOU CAN HELP PALESTINE!

You always saw yourself working for SHIELD. Being able to do missions and 'save the world' was something you always wanted to do. Having mothers who are considered super heroes was also something that made you inspired by this life, but you only saw it from the outside. How they were greeted by everyone or how it seemed so easy for them to do these hero things. But when you finally got what you wanted when you turned eighteen, it wasn't what you expected.

It was the third time in the last few days that you had messed up in a mission in which you were classified. The looks the other agents gave you at the Academy made you feel horrible. You obviously hadn't messed up the missions on purpose, you would never do that. But it seemed like all those people expected that every step you took would be right, that you would never make mistakes, and that you would be as good as your mothers. Your head hurt just thinking about it. And that thought led you to others, how ashamed you felt remembering how the other agents spoke mean words to you when, again, you messed up on the mission.

You tried to distract yourself from these types of self-sabotaging thoughts about yourself by training even harder. Punching and kicking the red cylinders using all your strength, and even after hours it still felt like you didn't feel good enough, strong enough. All you wanted was to just stop thinking for at least a few seconds, and when you heard those heavy footsteps you knew that wasn't what was going to happen. "Oh, look who's here!"

You didn't care about remembering that agent's name, but you remembered exactly her voice and face, because it was her who started the whispers about how you weren't like your mothers. How you spoiled the missions of the last few days of that week, how you will never be like them. "The daughter of the great Black Widow and the Scarlet Witch, even if it doesn't seem like it." You continue ignoring her presence there, massaging your fingers to continue punching the red bag. "Do they know how you failed this last week?"

She wasn't stupid to know how horrible your week had been, how the failed missions, the disturbances and all those other things were making you almost have panic attacks right there in front of everyone. "No." Your voice was low, because you knew that if you exerted the necessary strength to reach a greater height, the tears would fall without your permission.

"What do you think they will do when they find out how bad you are?" She starts to approach you with those boots with a high step, her head lolling to the side with a tone to tease you. A smirk on her sharp face, her gloved hands resting on her waist. All those little details made you want to scream in her face, tell her that you weren't bad, but how would you say that if you didn't even believe it yourself?

"Maybe they'll get you out of here when they see how bad you are and realize that any of the agents here are much better than you, your place as an Avenger is almost invisible.” The girl laughs, her cheeks almost covering her eyes due to the action. At some other time you would find her features extremely beautiful, but at that moment, you wanted to vomit just looking at her.

Even if you tried to be strong at that moment, like your mother Natasha, you couldn't. Your fists were clenched tightly trying to control the tears from coming out, the pain of your nails in the palms of your hands trying to distract you from that moment. And every time that Agent mentioned your mother's name, your thoughts directed you only to them, how you wanted to be in their arms right now while you feel your hair being stroked by Wanda's magical hands. You knew that if you wanted comfort from your mothers they wouldn't wait a second to give it to you, and even if you didn't want to talk about why you were feeling that way, they wouldn't force you to talk.

"Where are you going? Ruin another mission?” If it weren't for the high-pitched, irritating tone of her voice, you wouldn't have even registered those questions in your head. Your thoughts were in a totally different space from that place, just wanting your mothers affection. So when you started packing your things and totally ignoring that Agent, you knew that your body wouldn't stop until you got home.

The girl's laugh echoed throughout the room as you headed towards the exit door of the place. In films, this scene would be dramatic, as if the main character was planning some revenge in their head to end the character who keeps provoking them. But at that moment you weren't thinking about revenge, or how you would turn things around, you just thought about how your mothers affectionate touches would turn that bad week into just distant memories. How you were sure that your mother Wanda would know what to say to you and how Natasha would know what to do so that your surroundings were just comfort.

You didn't wait a second before getting on your motorcycle, which Natasha had given you as a gift for your 18th birthday, and heading towards your childhood home. Even though those bad thoughts were in your head now and could possibly distract you in the traffic on the streets, you continued on your way with your eyes soaked with tears and the horrible tightness in your chest. You tried to think of good things, like your mom Wanda would probably be baking chocolate chip cookies and your mom Natasha would just be watching, since cooking isn't one of her great talents, but that domestic situation was pretty far away for you. It seemed that any self-deprecating thought stood in the way, a great layer of ignorance about happiness.

You didn't bother to park the motorcycle correctly, just running towards the entrance porch and knocking, almost softly, on the door. You heard some sweet giggles through it, confirming that your mothers were in some domestic situation, before the door calmly opened and revealed Wanda's long red hair. Her smile opened for a few seconds when she saw it was you, their beloved daughter, but when she came across the features on your face, the reddish eyes with lakes over them, her smile soon fell apart, taking its place a worried look. “Sweetie? What happened, my love?"

She took no time in taking you into her arms, even though you didn't answer her question. Your head falls on your mother's shoulder as she wraps one of her arms around your waist and the other massages the hair spread across her chest. Your hands tightly grip the blouse stuck to Wanda's body, as if at any moment she would come off and no longer provide the comfort you needed. Natasha heard your sobs from the kitchen, and she knew they were yours, she knew and kept almost everything about you. She quickly heads towards the front door, seeing her wife's back being grabbed by you, and how your body looked like it would fall to the ground at any moment.

“Shh, it’s okay, you’re okay.” Wanda whispered in your ear with her sweet voice. Your crying was loud, as if you had kept it for several days, your mother thought. She didn't know and had no idea why you were sobbing uncontrollably and why you arrived so early that day. Normally you would be completing some report, or training, since you always said how strong you wanted to get. But at that moment, everything didn't seem strong to you.

At some point you were carried and taken towards the comfortable sofa in that house. Your thoughts were so loud that you didn't even notice when you were positioned on your mother Wanda's lap. She still kept her grip on his body and the affectionate words in your ear. “I need you to breathe for me, sweetheart. Can you do that for me?” Her breathing became heavier and slower, forcing it so that at that moment you could keep up with her. Natasha, beside you two, continued to caress your back, praising you for following Wanda so well.

You finally managed to take a deep breath after what felt like hours of crying and sobbing. Your gaze fell from your mother's eyes to your hands in your lap, you felt embarrassed. Maybe because you were 18 and sitting on your mother's lap, or because you were crying uncontrollably without being able to breathe properly, or because you failed at the only thing you wanted to do at SHIELD. “I feel like a baby.” You say in a low voice, almost making your mothers not hear, even with their proximity.

"Well, you're our baby." Natasha says making you finally let out a laugh between your lips. “Do you want to tell us why you're so sad, my love?” You didn't know if you wanted to tell them or not, the negative thoughts making you think they were going to fight you, tell you how bad you are. So, you shrug and lay your head on Wanda's shoulder again, but in a position so you could still look at your mother Natasha. “I just- I had a bad week.” You murmur, closing your eyes to feel the comfort that place brought you. “And, um… I think I should stop being an Agent.”

That took their mothers by surprise. You always said you wanted to be one of the people at SHIELD and you always trained to be one of the best at that place. “Oh, and why do you think that?” Wanda questions. Even though you didn't see her, you knew she would be looking at Natasha, as if they were talking through looks.

“I’m not good enough.” You felt Wanda's body tense beneath you. Your mothers always knew how much you felt like everyone was better than you, how hard it was to believe you were good at something. “This week I- I ruined every mission I went on,” Your mother's blouse was soaked with your tears, and now she could once again feel the salt water falling from your eyes through the fabric. “all the Agents are making fun of me because of it. They say I will never be like you.”

When you finish speaking, Wanda's grip on your body becomes even tighter, you feel Natasha's hand in your hair, stroking it as you hear her sigh deeply. “I've lost count of how many times your mother and I messed up a mission.”

“What?”

“There were several times when I blew up my teammates, for example, Uncle Tony was probably the one who received the most blasts.” Natasha says, making the three of you laugh at the words. “What about the times your mother mistook me for enemies and threw me out of buildings with her magic? We had to stop missions many, many times.” She emphasizes the word 'many', as if she were singing it.

“Remember when I joined the Avengers, Nat?” She was asking your mother, but she was talking so you could listen. “I was much older than you, Y/n/n, and I couldn't do half the things you do today at SHIELD, even with my powers.” She leaves a kiss on your head before continuing. “In every training session I did, I always ended up on the ground.” You laugh again, feeling much lighter than before.

”And you want to know something? I bet you were the one doing all the mission stuff, huh?” Natasha says. “Because if no Agent has ever made a mistake on a mission, then they aren’t real Agents.”

“Your mother is right, make mistakes is human, my love, and everyone will do it one day.” You feel your thoughts start to ease now. The tears stopped falling down your face and only lightness is in their place. Your mothers always knew what to do to make you feel good.

"You're right..." You finally admit, lifting your head from your mother's shoulder and looking at the two women in front of you, seeing nothing but affection and truths.

Wanda sits you down on the couch before getting up and ruffling your hair. "Now, don't worry your pretty head about that stuff and just think about the cookies that are going to go into your stomach in a little while that obviously weren't made by Natasha!"

"What do you mean by 'obviously’?" You laugh at that one scene, seeing Natasha's arms cross under her breasts as an indignant expression is placed on her face.

And at the end of the day you knew that you wouldn't have to worry about anything - just your mom's delicious cookies - and that you knew that your moms would never think about fighting or being upset with you. And Natasha would definitely make sure you didn't need to worry about that Agent who wouldn't leave you alone. That bitch will obviously never set foot in SHIELD again.

[sitkowski]

sweet surrender (nick folio x oc)

pairing: nick folio x harper (oc)

cw: 18+ MDNI ⚠️ fake dating, kinda crappy parents, vaginal fingering. doing things on a motorcycle that probably aren't realistically possible.

word count: 3.8k

author's note: this one wasn't originally started with the intention of being posted around the birthday boy's day, but here we are. i've seen enough rom-coms and hallmark movies to know anything is possible. title comes from the song by sarah mclachlan 🫶🏻 dividers by @saradika-graphics

⇉ masterpost || taglist signups

Harper’s flip flops smack noisily against the asphalt as she hurries across the parking lot. She’s already seventeen minutes late, and her mother doesn’t like to be kept waiting. The second her hand is on the handle to the restaurant door, her phone pings loudly in her purse for the fourth time since she left work. She didn’t even think of trying to go home and change, knowing that it would only delay the inevitable more.

Inside the quaint little bar and grill, Harper’s mother sits in the back at a small table, disappointment evident on her face as she approaches the table. There were many things that she considered hell, and lunch with her mother was one of them. But she knew if she didn’t go, she’d just keep bugging her until her sister’s wedding. And somewhere between work and arriving at the restaurant, Harper came up with a possibly insane plan.

“Hi mom,” she sinks down in the chair across from her and grabs a menu. “Sorry I’m late. I had to wait for someone to relieve me at the bar—”

“I already ordered you a sweet tea. I know it’s your favorite.”

Harper tries her very best not to seem shocked at that, because she knows there’s probably an ulterior motive behind it. “Um, thanks.”

“Look, I know I’m a broken record here,” her mother begins, and there it is. “But I wish you weren’t coming to this wedding alone. You’re the last of my children without a partner, don’t you feel like the odd person out?”

It takes everything Harper has not to get up and leave right then and there. She tells herself that her mom is only looking out for her, that she just wants her to be happy. But somehow, she’s always equated happiness with finding someone, having a boyfriend. Being the youngest of four, and right now the only single child, she’s heard it all so much over the years, and it’s one of the reasons why she’s kept any relationships she’s had to herself until they got serious. Which, of course, hadn’t happened in a long time.

“I have a date for the wedding.” she blurts out instead. Harper is a liar. She has nothing remotely close to a date, but she sees the way her mother’s eyes light up, and she raises her hand before she can immediately start drilling her with questions about this nonexistent date. “It’s still very new, but he’s nice. And I’ll let you meet him before the wedding, at the final rehearsal. But for now, can we just keep this between us?”

“Oh absolutely, of course!” her mom says. But Harper knows, her mom is a liar too, and the entire family will know before the end of the day. “I’m just happy you found someone, I know you’ve got to be lonely in that house all by yourself.”

Harper opens her mouth to say something else, but the waitress arrives with their drinks and to take their orders. She’s never been so grateful for the distraction. Her mother even changes the subject before their food arrives. But now all Harper can think about is the fact that she has to convince her neighbor to be her plus one to a wedding.

It’s either a coincidence or a twisted act of fate that Harper’s neighbor is outside working on his bike when she pulls into her driveway. She and Nick aren’t exactly close friends; they’re friendly with one another, she grabs any mail that comes while he’s on tour for him and makes sure his three plants don’t die. He asks her about her day if they catch each other outside at the same time, and once they shared a few beers on his porch after she accidentally locked herself out. She baked him cookies.

And now she’s got to ask him this huge favor.

She knows she could get out of this with her mom, admit she lied or say this mystery guy broke up with her. But as she gets out of her car and looks over at Nick in his driveway, wearing a fitted black tank top and his hands stained with grease, she realizes she wants to prove a point. Her shutting the car door seems to grab his attention, and he turns to wave at her. She lifts her hand in return before taking a deep breath and walking across the section of grass that separates their houses.

“Is something wrong with your bike?” she asks by way of greeting.

Nick shakes his head, wiping his hands off on a rag from his back pocket. “Nah, I just like doing everything on it myself. I’ve got the free time right now.”

“No big tours coming up?”

“Not for a few weeks,” he shoves the rag back into his pocket and pushes his hair back out of his face. “It’s hot out, you want a drink?”

“As long as it’s alcoholic, please.”

She follows him up to his porch and he disappears inside. Harper sits in on the porch swing, picking nervously at her chipped nail polish. The worst that can happen is he can say no, that’s what she tells herself. She waits for Nick to come back, holding out a glass to her. Her eyebrows raise because instead of beer, he brings her whiskey.

“You look like you could use it,” he admits, before sitting beside her. The last time they did this, it was just two beers sitting on the porch steps so she could keep an eye out for the locksmith. It’s not lost on her that this is the closest she’s been to him before. “Everything okay?”

“Just…lunch with my mom. My sister’s wedding is coming up and she’s being extra…extra.”

“She’s stressing you out?”

“More like she won’t stop asking me who I’m bringing to the wedding as a plus one,” Harper takes a sip of the whiskey and rubs her forehead. “I kind of…told her I had a date, when I didn't.”

Nick winces sympathetically, “Ouch.”

She nods in agreement before taking a deep breath and looking over at him. “So I have this stupidly huge favor to ask, and I know you’re probably busy with your band even though you said you have a break, or maybe you just wanna be left alone in which case I will finish this drink and go, but do you maybe wanna pretend to be my date to this wedding?”

She knows that she’s babbling, and she sees the way his eyes widen a little at her question. He’s quiet though, for a lot longer than she thought he’d be, and she fully expects him to let her down gently when he speaks.

“Yeah, sure.”

“I totally get it, we don’t even know each other all that well so if you don’t want to I’ll find someone who—”

“Harper, stop!” he laughs a little, reaching over to put a hand on her knee to cut off her second round of anxious speaking. She blinks and looks down at his hand and then back at his face. “I said I would. I’ll be your fake boyfriend.”

She doesn’t mean to let out a little squeak and throw her arms around his neck, but she can’t help it. She lets go quickly, her face on fire. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, but thank you—”

“Hey it’s no problem, she’s obviously driving you a little insane and I don’t mind helping. I wasn’t kidding when I said I’ve got a few weeks off.”

“It’s seriously just two days, the final rehearsal dinner and then the wedding and reception,” she explains and he nods along. “Do you…do you own a suit?”

She doesn’t mean it in an insulting way, but she’s only ever seen him in t-shirts and jeans, and his riding leathers. That was a distracting enough image, and she quickly banishes it from her mind.

Nick doesn’t seem offended. “I can clean up when I need to. Unless you want to traumatize your mother in which case I am fully prepared to take you to this thing on my bike and make myself her worst nightmare. I’m flexible.”

Harper downs the rest of her whiskey, letting it burn all the way down her throat so that the flush that comes across her cheeks can be blamed on something else.

“Just a nice dress shirt will work,” she pauses and thinks about it. “And yeah, maybe your bike.”

She imagines her mother’s face when she shows up to the rehearsal on the back of Nick’s bike. It wouldn’t be so much the motorcycle itself, but Harper on the back of it in a dress. If this is going to be the way that she’s going to get her off of her back about dating, so be it.

“So, if we’re pretending to date, should I have a cover story?” Nick asks.

Harper hadn’t thought about that. Her mom was nosy, she was going to want every little detail of how she and Nick met, how long they’d been together, what their plans for the future would be. Even if it was just two days, she has to have some kind of details besides him having a motorcycle and being in a band. 

I mean,” he seems to be able to tell that she’s struggling with what to say. “We kind of already have our story, don’t we?”

“We do?” she doesn’t let herself get stuck on how that sounds. Our story.

“We’re neighbors who became friends, you came over and had a few beers when you got locked out of your place and it just…took off from there?”

It sounds so easy, and it’s not even a lie. She nods. “Yeah, that works.”

“So when is this thing? That way I’ve got time to get my bike nice and shiny.”

The day of the final rehearsal approaches quickly. Harper spends most of the morning out with her sisters, getting pampered for the day. They ask her questions about her mystery guy, and she gives them vague but believable answers. When Nick agreed to do this for her, he also gave her a little bit of a rundown on himself in case of situations just like this. She almost wondered if he’d had to be a fake boyfriend before.

When she goes home, she puts on the green floral dress she bought for the day, and even though she knows it’s not exactly practical for the back of a motorcycle, she likes how it looks. She’s doing the finishing touches on her makeup when there’s a knock on the front door. Feeling oddly nervous, Harper goes to answer it. 

Nick wasn’t lying when he said he could clean up when he needed to and he took her words to heart; the black dress shirt he’s wearing beneath his leather jacket looks really good on him. They’re kind of just standing there, staring at each other for a few minutes.

“You look gorgeous,” Nick says, and Harper blushes. His eyes drift down, and the corner of his mouth tilts up. “And while those shoes are very pretty, they’re not safe for the bike. Do you have any flats you can wear?”

Harper slips back into the house and grabs a pair from her hall closet, switching them out and putting her heels into a bag to bring with her. When she comes back out, she follows Nick down to his bike. He hands her a helmet, one that isn’t a full face like his.

“Figured you didn’t wanna sweat off your makeup on the ride.” he says, and she thinks he’s teasing her. “Have you ever been on a motorcycle before?”

She’d been on the back of a friend’s bike in high school, but it had been another style and she knew there was a difference between the two. “Nope.”

“Don’t worry, it’s the safest thing you’ll ever have between your legs.”

Harper’s mouth opens and closes again in surprise, before her eyes narrow. “Did you…did you just quote Girls Just Wanna Have Fun to me?”

Smiling proudly, Nick takes the helmet out of her hands, putting it on her. She holds her breath as he buckles it for her, before pulling on a pair of black leather gloves. He grabs his own helmet and puts it on. With his help, she gets on the bike behind him. She’s able to tuck the skirt of her dress enough so it won’t blow when they’re on the open road. This part she knows enough about, and she puts her hands on his sides. Nick reaches down, wrapping his hand around her wrist and pulling until she gets the message, wrapping her arms tightly around his torso. Harper presses her cheek between his shoulder, clenching her fingers in his jacket.

There was nothing more exhilarating than being on the back of Nick’s bike. It’s not that far from their houses to the venue where the final rehearsal and wedding is being held, but she enjoys every minute of the ride. The parking lot is littered with familiar cars, and Nick parks his bike, cutting the engine. It takes Harper a minute to be able to loosen her grip on his jacket, and she can still feel the rumble from beneath her in her thighs. She lets out a shaky breath, undoing the strap of the helmet and taking it off. In front of her, Nick holds out his hand so she can lift herself off of the seat. When her feet touch the ground, her legs are still shaking.

She can see her mom and her sister Reece watching her from the alcove by the entrance, and it’s hard to miss the smirk on Reece’s face and the look of concern on her mother’s. Harper takes off her flats and slips her heels back on before fluffing out her hair. She watches Nick get off the bike, and he takes off his helmet, gloves and jacket. He’s got the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled to his elbows, and it shouldn’t be nearly as distracting as it is.

“Ready to do this?” he asks, holding out his hand to her. 

Harper nods, lacing her fingers through his. He pulls her closer and she swallows hard, unable to avoid the smile that comes to her face. “Yeah.”

Making the introductions almost seems like the easy part. Within minutes of meeting, all of her sisters are enamored with Nick, including the bride to be. Her mother is a different story, but Harper already knew that it would happen like this. She hears the words drummer and motorcycle club and puts on the most believable fake smile she can. But Harper genuinely wants them to like Nick, even if it is pretend. And for the most part, they do.

“And your band…it does well?” her mother asks sometime between the final rehearsal and dinner, and Harper feels the evening going downhill. 

“They’re viral on Tik Tok,” her grandmother says. Nick smiles that wide smile again and her grandmother winks at him. “Leave them alone, dear. They seem very happy together.”

It eases the tension for Harper, just a little. Beside her, Nick puts his hand on her thigh in a comforting gesture, and she relaxes back in the seat.

The rest of the dinner goes okay, until her mother asks to speak to her privately. She leads her off to the hallway of the floor they’re on away from everyone else. Most of the day has been a blur but Nick’s been there with her the whole time, and she’s thought that they were pretty convincing.

“I know what you’re doing,” her mom says, and Harper frowns. “How could you hide something like this from us?”

“Mom, what—”

“The way that boy looks at you, there is no way that this is new. How long have the two of you been together that you couldn’t tell me, or any of us?”

She almost lets out a sigh of relief, but her mom’s words register with her. She thinks that they’ve been together for longer than she’s said, because of the way that Nick looks at her? From what she’s been able to tell, he’s looking at her the same way he has since they met. Sure, he’s touching her a little bit more, but that was all part of the plan. Wasn’t it?

“You just met him today, and you think he looks at me like, what?”

Her mom’s look turns wistful. “Like your dad used to look at me.”

The words are a punch to the gut, and not in an entirely bad way. Her parents were deeply in love once upon a time. But she doesn’t think that she and Nick know each other well enough for that to be true. Still, her mom wouldn’t have dragged her out here and said something like this unless she saw something that Harper apparently didn’t.

“Mom, there’s something—”

“Babe,” Nick appears in the hallway, and it’s obvious that he might have overheard something that was said, because he comes over, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Jolly wants me to stop by before we head home, would it be okay if we headed out now? I know things are wrapping up for the night.”

“You two go on, we’ll see you in the morning.” Harper’s mom says, answering for her.

She hugs Harper and gives Nick a polite smile before walking back into the banquet hall. It’s not until they’re in the elevator that Harper finally asks. “Who’s Jolly?”

Nick doesn’t take her home right away, turning the bike the opposite direction that they came. Harper doesn’t question it, she just burrows against him comfortably and lets him take her wherever he wants. She’d been grateful for the rescue while dealing with her mom, but she wonders what’s going to happen after the wedding tomorrow. She assumes that things will just go back to how they were before, the two of them being neighbors. It’s something, at least.

It’s dusk by the time Nick stops the bike, in a secluded little spot overlooking mountains and trees. Harper’s pretty sure she came to this spot with a boy when she was in high school. Nick drops the kickstand and takes off his helmet, and Harper takes hers off too. But he doesn’t get off the bike, and she stays leaning into him, enjoying the quiet and the view.

“I know you heard what my mom said,” she whispers into his jacket, and she feels him tense a little before he relaxes. “I thought it was all pretend.”

“And if I said that I’ve been trying to work up the nerve to ask you out for months and thought this was going to be the best way to do it?”

Harper sits up and pulls herself off the bike, and it’s just like he knows what she’s planning to do because he slides back on the seat, making room for her. He hauls her into his lap, her thighs spread over his as she sits facing him.

“I like you, Nick Folio,” she murmurs, draping her arms over his shoulders.  “I mean, you’re viral on Tik Tok after all.”

He throws his head back and laughs. “I like your grandma.”

“And what about me?”

“Oh, I really like you,” he says, before wrapping one gloved hand around the side of her neck and kissing her. 

Harper kisses him back, fisting her hands in the sides of his jacket, trying to get him closer. But she’s worried that too much motion is going to overturn the bike. It’s probably a miracle that it’s staying upright anyway. She slides her hands beneath his jacket, pulling at the buttons on his shirt. Her eyes widen at the sight of the tattoo on his chest, and she files that away for another time when she can drag this out and trace it with her tongue.

Nick pulls back, long enough to tug off his gloves and shove them in his jacket pocket before shrugging out of the leather and letting it fall behind him. Keeping his eyes on Harper’s face, his hands slide up beneath the skirt of her dress. Her breath hitches in her chest at the feeling of his hot hands on her inner thighs, skimming upwards until they touch the edge of her panties.

It’s not lost on her that they’re out here in the open where anyone could come by and see them. That doesn’t really matter to her though, not when Nick’s scraping his teeth over the column of her throat and pulling her underwear to the side.

“Is this okay?” he asks, voice low.

Harper nods quickly, reaching down to wrap her hand around his wrist and guide his hand where she wants it. His fingers slide between her folds, thumb teasing over her clit. She moans, head falling back and his free hand tugs at the top of her dress, pulling it and the cup of her bra down so he can get one of her nipples between his teeth.

A sharp cry escapes her when he eases first one, then a second finger inside of her, and when his fingers curl upward, she finds herself trying to lean back into the handlebars behind her. Nick’s fingers tangle in her hair and he pulls her mouth back to his. Harper nibbles on his bottom lip, tongue sliding over his as she grinds down against his hand.

Whimpering, she buries her hands in his hair, yanking at the longer strands. She’s already on edge, and she’d be surprised that Nick’s able to work her up so quickly, but she can’t think about anything else but this. His forehead presses into hers, eyes locked on the space between them, watching his fingers rock in and out of her. He moves them faster, adding in a third, and Harper’s lost beneath the orgasm crashing into her. The cry she lets out echoes in the air around them, bouncing off of the trees.

Nick pulls his fingers out slowly, bringing them up to his mouth to lick them clean. The sight and the aftershocks of her orgasm leave her dizzy. She starts to reach for his belt, but Nick catches her wrist, pulling her hand up and kissing her palm.

“Later, I promise. I kinda wanna get you home and into my bed.”

Harper can’t argue with that. They fix their clothes and she moves back behind him. As she’s putting her helmet back on, a thought occurs to her. “What happened to this being the safest thing I’ll ever have between my legs?”

“Honey, you haven’t seen anything yet.” he murmurs before putting on his helmet and starting the bike.

She grabs onto him, unable to keep the smile off of her face as he points the bike in the direction of home.

⇉ taglist:

@circle-with-me @deathblacksmoke @malice-ov-mercy @baddestomens

@ladyveronikawrites @dominuslunae @collapsedglasshouses @collidewiththesavannah

@thatchickwiththecamera

[comradeghosty]

Letting You Off Easy (NSFW)

NSFW Sabo x reader fic

Summary: Sabo promised you that he would come to bed, but he got caught up reading again. He makes it up to you.

Tags: nsfw, established relationship, soft dom Sabo, bdsm themes, vaginal sex, oral sex, fingering, dirty talk, humiliation, edging

!!! 18+ !!!

I also posted it on AO3

Sabo was supposed to have met you in bed by now. He promised, I’ll be there before 10 tonight, but as usual, he was caught up in whatever book he was reading. As you lay there in the bed, you stared up at the ceiling. You considered waiting, maybe going to sleep till he got there, but you were impatient and Sabo had promised.

Throwing the sheets off, you got out of bed and crept down the hallway to Sabo’s study. This was his room, the one place in the house that was off limits to you. When he was in there, he was working and required no distractions. Fingers tapped your chin as you weighed the risks. On one hand, if you interrupted his work, he would probably be upset with you. An upset Sabo hurt your heart; when his sweet smile disappeared from his face, it made you ache. However, you needed to go to bed, and he had promised. He couldn’t be too upset if he had promised, right? 

Slowly, your hand reached towards the doorknob as you made your decision. The glass knob was heavy in your hand as you turned it, and you briefly wondered if you had made a mistake as you pushed the door open.

Inside the room was a candlelit masterpiece. For some reason, Sabo loved feeling archaic as he worked, seeing his work by fire in the evenings and at night. Many times you had complained to him that he would hurt his vision, but he reassured you that it was fine. The room was well furnished, dark wooden bookshelves lined the walls, filled to the brim with books both old and new. A large globe adorned one corner of the room and the walls not occupied by bookshelves were filled with maps and art. His desk sat against a wall, covered in papers that he had yet to grade and lit candles that had wax which dripped down the stem of their holders. In the opposite corner of the room sat a small, dark loveseat that Sabo liked to sit on when he read. This is where he currently resided, a book propped in his hand. 

Sabo looked at you with an unreadable expression. His dark eyes pierced through you, sending a shiver down your spine. This is the second time you wondered if this intrusion was a mistake. He leaned the book down on his lap, which you eyed with a small blush. He was still in his work clothes, a cream colored button down that was rolled up to the elbows and dark linen pants.

You were snapped out of your thoughts as the blonde cleared his throat. Anxiety panged through your stomach. He sat his book on the table next to him. A blush dusted your cheeks as you watched his hand come up to take the thin rimmed glasses from his face. He folded those and placed them on top of the book.

“Come sit,” he said, simply patting his lap. You shivered at the evenness in his voice. Nothing good ever comes after Sabo uses that tone.

Slowly, you walked over, like a dog who knew it did something bad, hesitating in order to delay whatever punishment awaited you. For a moment, you just stood there in front of him until he patted his lap again. Reluctantly, you sat down sideways on his lap. Sabo put one arm around your waist, anchoring you to him, and you swallowed thickly. 

“Am I in trouble?” you asked. Your voice was quiet and shaking a bit when you spoke. It embarrassed you, and you could feel yourself redden. Sabo’s eyes softened a bit, which set off alarm bells in your head. God, you fucked up by coming in here.

Sabo doesn’t answer and just chuckles darkly. “Trouble? Mm, did you break a rule?”

Of course, he wanted you to acknowledge that you knew you were doing something you weren't supposed to. “I… came into your study, sir. I’m sorry,” you muttered. The words came easy to you, casually slipping into a state of mind that only Sabo could pull from your bones. So easily did he comfort you, his kind face and soft smile easing your mind and relaxing your boundaries. 

“That’s it, I was worried that you had forgotten. That doesn’t seem to be the case, though. You just wanted to be disobedient.” Sabo tutted at you, mumbling out, “just what am I going to do with you?” He went quiet for a moment, thinking.

Suddenly, he turned you in his lap so you faced away from him, your knees falling over his legs. A large hand gently placed itself on your throat, not squeezing but making you aware of its presence, and another found its place on your waist. Sabo spread his knees apart, widening your thighs. You felt exposed as he held you to his chest, your nightgown slipping down your thighs to bunch around your hips. A shiver wracked your body as the cool air danced across the skin of your thighs.

“So needy, my dear. Couldn't wait for me in bed like a good girl? Do you need me to teach you some patience, sweetheart?” he crooned, his tone patronizing. There was something in the way he talked down to you that made you whine. 

His hand moved across your throat, gripping the nape of your neck and gently tugging at the hair, turning you to crane your neck towards him. “Hm? Sorry, I can’t hear you. Speak up.”

You pouted at him, your lips pursed in a small frown. He knew you didn’t say anything. When you spoke, your voice came out mumbly and grouchy. “You promised you’d be in bed and then you didn’t come,” you whined, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Promise? Oh, I did promise. I’m sorry, sunshine,” he stroked your hair gently, brushing it out of your face as he looked at you. You couldn’t be too mad at him, after all you knew how engrossed he became while reading. His onyx eyes were sincere and a small pout graced his lips briefly before turning into a gentle smile. “In that case, let me make it up to you. You still entered my study without permission, so you have to be punished, but I promise to make you feel good afterward.” A large hand cupped your jaw firmly, thumb brushing over your lips. Sabo leaned forward and kissed your cheek gently.

Slowly, you felt his hands sliding down your sides, briefly resting on your hips before traveling to your thighs. The soft palms skated along the outside of your thighs, all the way to your knees before slowly moving to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. Sabo started gently, caressing your legs before pinching roughly. A whine escaped your lips at the sudden rough sensation, your head lolling back against his broad chest. He took his time, pinching and squeezing his way to the apex of your thighs. You knew it would leave marks, Sabo always made sure to leave marks. His large hands skirted around your panties, not quite touching but making sure you knew he was right there. 

“You want me to touch you, angel? C’mon, you can tell me. Don't be shy,” he cooed lowly in your ear. A shiver ran down your spine, straight to your cunt. Your body relaxed at his voice, and Sabo was quick to notice. You missed the devious smile that graced his face, right before his hand came down in a harsh slap against your inner thigh. 

A cry left your lips at the impact, and you felt your arousal build. “I said, open your mouth and beg for my touch,” Sabo growled into your ear. He wasn’t playing around anymore, and you knew it.

“Ah, I’m sorry, sir. Please touch me, please let me feel you,” your eyes squeezed closed as you begged him, your hands clenching at your sides. 

Fingers slowly edged around your panties as he complied with your pleas, his tongue darting out to lick the spot where your neck met your shoulder. “You sound so pretty when you beg,” he breathed. There were suddenly too many sensations as you felt Sabo’s wet tongue on your neck, his fingers prodding at your clothed cunt, and his other hand coming back to rest on your throat, holding you against his chest.

Whimpering out, your hands came up to hold his arm where it rested across your chest. “S- Sabo… please…”

“Please what, angel? Say what you want.” 

Your face burned, embarrassment shooting through your core as you realized he was going to make you say it.

 “P- please touch me… under… ah… my panties…” God, it was so humiliating. You felt your cunt clench around nothing as he put his hand under the cloth and just… held it there, unmoving. Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes, frustration tight in your body.

“Like that? Doesn’t seem very exciting to me,” Sabo chuckled. “You’re usually so mouthy… why so quiet, dirty girl?”

You squirmed on his lap, trying to get friction while avoiding saying anything else. His hand left your panties and another harsh slap landed on your thigh, making you jump. The hand around your throat tightened slightly. “Stop being so greedy and use that mouth. I won’t ask again,” he scolded. Sabo could be so intimidating when he wanted to be. 

“Ah, please! Please put your fingers in my pussy, sir,” you begged, shame burning your face. A tear slid down your cheek as Sabo’s hand reentered your panties, sliding through your wetness. You felt immediate relief at his touch, sighing and leaning back into him. Fingers lazily dragged through your slit as he touched you, and you moaned when his thumb dragged against your clit. Sabo leaned against your neck as he touched you, smirking as you moaned and sighed from his touch.

Briefly, he pinched your clit between his thumb and knuckle, making you cry out in surprise before sinking two fingers into your hole. The stretch was so good, your body willfully accommodating him. “Oh god, Sabo… ‘s so good,” you slurred out.

“Look at you, sucking me in. So greedy, all for me,” he purred. You could feel him sucking dark marks into your neck, letting his possessive nature through. His long fingers pumped in and out of you, your thighs trembling as Sabo kept them spread apart. He moved his hand, his thumb rubbing circles against your clit as his fingers massaged your cunt.

You were a mess, shaking and moaning and whining against him. “S- Sabo… sir… ‘m close…” Breathy pants left your lips as you felt your abdomen coil in pleasure. “P- pleasee, oh god…” And right as that coil was about to snap, you were left empty. Sabo pulled his fingers out of your cunt, and your brows furrowed. You opened your mouth, turning to him to say something before his fingers were shoved roughly into your mouth, tasting of you. His dark eyes looked at you sternly, narrowing slightly.

“Now now… you know you had to be punished, my dear.” His fingers pressed down against your tongue. “Don’t be a brat. I’m letting you off easy since I did break my promise. Say thank you.”

Sabo didn’t move his fingers, and your face burned. This was humiliating, and you attempted to avert your eyes. His thumb pressed up on the soft part of your chin as his fingers pushed down, silently demanding eye contact. You spoke around his fingers, drool dripping down your chin from the corners of your mouth. “Haa, ‘ank ‘oo,” you mumbled around his fingers.

A smile softened his features as he praised you. “That’s my girl. Are you ready for me to make it up to you?”

You nodded your head as much as you could with his fingers still in your mouth, and he kissed your cheek.

“Stand up for me, sweet girl,” he requested, removing his hand. You stood up, standing in front of him, feeling vulnerable. “Take your clothes off, I want to see you.” Slowly, you pulled your nightgown over your head, feeling Sabo’s dark eyes roving over your body. He watched as you exposed yourself, drinking in your body like it was the finest wine. You could see his need, one of his hands palming the bulge in his pants. It made you blush, the ludeness of watching Sabo touch himself as you stripped. The nightgown dropped in a puddle on the floor, your panties joining it shortly after.

Sabo stood up, stepping over to you. His hands ghosted your sides, guiding you to sit on the loveseat where he previously sat. The man slowly unbuttoned his shirt and pants, tossing them aside as you watched. He never broke eye contact with you. You trembled, his dark eyes looking hungrily down at you while he knelt on the hardwood in front of you. His hands rested on each of your thighs, pulling you to the edge of the seat. Soft kisses peppered the inside of your legs, which draped over Sabo’s shoulders. He licked and sucked kisses into your sensitive skin as he moved his way closer to your cunt.

“So good, so sweet. You took your punishment so well, sweetheart,” he mumbled out between kisses. “Let me take care of you now.” 

Sighing, you reclined back as Sabo worshiped your thighs. His gentle kisses and gasps made you shake as he pressed his face against you, breathing you in with a quiet “fuck.” You felt yourself clench around nothing.

You let out a loud moan as Sabo licked a long stripe up your cunt. Like a man starved, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you tightly against his mouth. Your head flew back, eyes squeezed shut as the blonde feasted on you. His tongue lapped against you, tapping quickly against your clit. “Oh fuck, fuck please,” you whined. Both of your hands moved to tangle in his curls, holding him as you gently rutted against his face.

Soft and needy gasps and moans came from between your thighs, and all it did was push you closer to the edge. Sabo was a vocal lover, letting you know that he was enjoying giving as much as you enjoyed receiving. You looked down, just to see his dark eyes on you. The blonde loved watching the way your face contorted with pleasure. Your thighs tightened around his head as you got closer, already sensitive and close from being edged. “Please, please don’t stop,” you begged. All you wanted was for him to keep going, the pressure on your clit perfectly matched with his long and firm licks.

Sabo hummed against your cunt and you snapped, cumming hard with a soft cry of his name. The man didn’t stop, but he slowed a bit to help you ride your way through your orgasm without overstimulating you. He was such a considerate lover. 

“You taste so good,” he mumbled against you, giving you one last lick before kissing his way up your body. Sabo wrapped his hands around your waist, picking you up and swapping positions so you sat on his lap, facing him this time. He kissed you greedily, and you moaned against his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue. The feeling of your skin on his skin was electric, and you rubbed your exposed cunt against his length. 

The kiss broke when he moaned, his forehead dropping against your shoulder. “You’re so beautiful when you cum,” he whispered into your skin, rocking his hips against yours. “I wanna see that again.” 

One of his hands came down between you two, thumb brushing rhythmically against your clit as you rocked against him. “God, Sabo. Please, please fuck me,” you begged. You never needed anything more than you needed his cock inside you at this moment.

“Such a good girl, so good for me. Whatever you want, angel,” he crooned, running his hands through your hair and tucking it behind your ears. The way he looked into your eyes made your heart clench. His hands readjusted you on his lap as he used one hand to position himself at your entrance. “Keep your eyes on me, I wanna see your face.”

Your face flushed, but you never broke eye contact with him. As you sank down on him, your eyes widened and your mouth dropped slightly with a gasp. “S- Sabo…” He was big, and he let you pause to adjust before settling all the way inside you. You were full, so full that your head clouded. Both of you held eye contact, as if that’s all you could do. His face was so soft, so kind. Your hands came up and cradled his cheeks, thumb brushing over his scar. Both of his arms wrapped around you, holding you against his chest. His hands pressed into your back, his long fingers spreading over your skin.

Sabo leaned forward and kissed you, gently and sweetly, as if you were providing the oxygen he needed to live. He rocked his hips, his cock pressing so deliciously into you. Your nipples rubbed against his chest as you both moved together, wrapped up in each other. The blonde kissed your cheek, moving down to your jaw and your neck. He sucked love bites into your skin, marking you. “You feel so good, so tight. You’re made for me, my love. So perfect,” he praised you so well, mumbling a nonstop stream of compliments into your skin. One of his hands snaked between you, finding your clit and rubbing circles into it. “That’s it, beautiful. Let yourself feel good.”

You watched as he concentrated, feeling his shallow thrusts and the orgasm building back up in your abdomen. “Aah, ‘m so full, Sabo. P- please.” As your eyes met again, your mouths met with some desperate hunger, teeth crashing together. The feelings were so intense, and you felt yourself being slightly lifted by one of Sabo’s arms before he started to thrust up into you in earnest. Gasps and moans escaped your lips, the combination of the quick and full thrusts with the thumb on your clit was too much. You stared into Sabo’s dark eyes as you came harshly and quickly, a smile forming across his face as he watched your climax. He kept fucking you, maintaining his quick pace. Your cunt spasmed around him, coaxing his orgasm from him as well as he spilled into you, pressing his cock as deep into you as it would fit.

Limply, you leaned against Sabo as he shallowly fucked himself through his orgasm, holding himself in you as he recovered. He pressed slow, lazy kisses against your shoulder and neck as you tried to regain your strength. “I love you’s” were mumbled into your skin, peppered there with the kisses. 

You sat there for a while, both of you pressed together. “C’mon, angel. Let’s get cleaned up and go to bed,” Sabo mumbled. He pressed a kiss to your temple, scooping you up in his arms. You pressed yourself against his chest, closing your eyes, and feeling like the luckiest person in the world.

[thetardisisnotourdivision]

Silly prediction for Empire of Death.

If they do get Carole Ann Ford back as Susan, I'd love them to do a scene like in The Empty Hearse in Sherlock. Like the Doctor's doing six things at once and trying to find the thingamajig which, it turns out, he'd have gotten far earlier if he'd just LOOKED at the random old lady who kept talking to him.

Something like:

Susan: oh, it's nice in here, isn't it? Doctor (not looking up): how did you get into the tower? Susan: I have my ways. Used to travel a lot. You pick things up.  Doctor (figuring out a complex formula because the world is about to end): well just stay over there and shut up, ok? Susan: I might have the answer? Doctor: no, you don't, just stay there.  Susan: I could always come back and help you later.  Doctor: please don't distract me.  Susan: I don't get anxieties, you know. And I don't cry, either. So I could be a good help. After all, we don't want a time war on our hands because of hysterical delays. Y'know. A race against the clock. Time. War.  Susan: and of course, a lot of problems look BIGGER than they are. Susan: on the inside. Doctor: sure, fine.  Susan (basically just having fun now): ooo, that police box is nice.  Doctor: that's my TARDIS, stay away from it.  Susan: TARDIS? What does that stand for? Doctor (as Susan mouths the words exactly as he says them): Time and Relative Dimension in Space, now stop talking.  Susan: haven't seen a police box since… ooo, November 1963?  Doctor: I really don't need this right now.  Susan: my husband used to say that there were a few up in BEDFORD, but I never saw them. (pointedly) DAVID. My husband's name was DAVID.  Doctor (not listening): wonderful.  Susan: and my kids. Who I named after people I loved. DAVID, IAN and BARBARA. They used to say that one day they'd go to SPACE and see MARINUS and SKARO like MUM DID.  Doctor: fantastic. Please be quiet.  Susan: you really are stupid, aren't you? Doctor: I'm currently trying to save all your lives, now shut up and let me work.  Susan: it'd be a shame if the planet got destroyed simply because nobody thought to ask the little old lady any questions.  Doctor: you've talked quite enough already.  Susan: after all, it is TELEPATHIC POWER you need. PSYCHIC POWERS. LIKE YOUR GRANDDAUGHTER.  Doctor: … Doctor: remind me to tell Kate to get better security on the Black Archive.  Susan: are you KIDDING me.  Susan: right. Ok. Perhaps you should look up the answer.  Doctor: Google can't help me here. Susan: no, I mean you should LOOK. UP.  *she makes him look at her and hands him the thingamajig he needed. Whatever is exploding immediately stops exploding.* Doctor: oh.  Susan: you get it now? Doctor: oh shit. 

Sorry for the long and weird post but I genuinely just think that something like this would be hilarious.

[nightwngz]

Oh my beloved, here's a little idea for you!

'Am I the asshole for dating my best friend's ex?' Where Barry absolutely couldn't let slip the opportunity to have Hal's pretty ex for himself, well, she doesn't belong to him anymore right?

Like, he sees that she's so sad because of the breakup and he's just so nice, gentle, kind with her, why not give him a chance? Barry knows that it must sucks to not have someone to kiss :(((

— 𝓔𝐱 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 ✩!!

barry allen x fem!reader

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀… Smut. Dirty talk. Fingering, p in v.

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁. . . no copying of my work is allowed. Free translation is allowed as long as I am credited.

𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗮𝗴𝗲. . . as I said in my other posts, English is not my first language. I have tried to make corrections with the translator, but as you all know, it is prone to making mistakes, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes or if anything sounds weird.

𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲. . . Omg, omg! You practically read my mind because Barry is practically my current obsession. By the way, sorry for the delay, dear, I didn't quite know how to write it. 💗

Barry and Hal have always been best friends. They got along so well that even when you were dating Hal, it never occurred to you that Barry might betray his trust, not even if you suggested it yourself.

And after spending so much time going out with your friend and sharing dinners, lunches, and breakfasts, with a bit of a hangover in between, you started to think that Barry could also become a good friend for you.

Even after you broke up with Hal, Barry continued to stand by your side, supporting and indulging you.

Though you never suspected him of double-dealing, Barry remained neutral about your breakup. It's not that he didn't care about Hal; in fact, he had more than once questioned whether he was doing the wrong thing by approaching you, even after you and Hal had ended things.

But yes, he was a complete asshole for approaching you in the first place, and he was even more of an idiot for falling in love with his friend's girlfriend in the first place.

He had fantasized about Hal's girlfriend countless times, and many of those times he had to restrain the desire to touch himself by thinking of you, so as not to betray him.

But it wasn't until he saw you crying on the floor of your apartment with a bottle of alcohol in your hand that he realized you were no longer his best friend's girlfriend. The relationship had ended, and although you were still dealing with the aftermath of the breakup, there was nothing that alcohol and other distractions couldn't alleviate.

"Hal is my friend, but sometimes he can be a real jerk. Don't worry, if you need to vent, go ahead," he suggested, trying to be friendly.

However, when you took his lips without permission as a means of release, Barry neither objected nor resisted. He thought that given your situation, it must be terrible not to have anyone to kiss.

Sad thoughts about Hal vanished the moment Barry's tongue entered your mouth. Maybe it was just what you needed to forget, since not even he, as your ex's best friend, seemed to care what Hal might think, and even less so did you.

Barry had inevitably thought of Hal. He couldn’t help but remember his friend while his ex-girlfriend’s tongue slid into his mouth and he felt her hips moving until she was straddling his belt. However, he didn’t stop; in fact, the thought that she no longer belonged to him crossed his mind, which only drove him to continue.

It was too late to regret when he felt your hands sliding down his hips, pulling at his clothes. He couldn't resist pushing you onto your back, landing on top of you and pinning your body against the couch.

He kissed you desperately as if you were his last meal, holding you tight with his hands and his tongue on your mouth, exploring every inch of your skin that was still hidden under the fabric he hastily removed.

Even as he slid his fingers aside your underwear, without removing it completely, to enjoy caressing your wet crotch, he smiled. He knew he had what he so desperately wanted, like a whimsical child with his new toy.

"Did Hal miss out on all this? Too bad for him that now I have to take care of this tight pussy." He whispered in your ear with a grin, licking his fingers gently so you could hear the obscene sound close up.

And finally, when he got inside you so deeply that tears welled up in your eyes at the intrusion, you felt completely convinced that you had done the right thing by breaking up with Hal, something that Barry also agreed with. You smiled at the thought that he had taken advantage of the situation and looked at him, convinced that he had orchestrated the whole thing for his own benefit.

"Don't look at me like that, honey. It's not my fault that Hal missed how deliciously tight your pussy feels. . ."