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monotonesmile · 3 months ago

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Can i request pregnant batsis who was dumped by her bf because he didn't want a baby. And the batsis comes back to the manor. She's younger than Dick and Jason but older that Tim and Damian. Damian doesn't know her. And she tells them they going to be uncels and Bruce a grandfather?

Batfam & Pregnant!Batsis!Reader

[Warnings: Shitty boyfriend, enough said. Some swearing]

[Fic Genre: Headcanons, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff]

[Notes: I’m not exactly the best at writing anything pregnancy related but ya gotta practice somehow! Also it’s headcanons because I needed a break from writing full fics for a second.]

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You realized you were late on your period so, just to be precautious, like your father taught you, you bought a pregnancy test, and waited for the results, anxiously waiting as you paced around the bathroom of the apartment you shared with your boyfriend, and when you got the results back, so many emotions flooded you as you saw those two little red lines, you were pregnant.

You knew you should tell your boyfriend, so you waited for his return from work. When you heard the door shut, you called him to the living room, then handing him the, cleaned, pregnancy test, you were nervous for his reaction, you were hoping he’d be at least supportive and help you, but instead he glared at the test before tossing it away, and then told you either you get rid of it or you’re breaking up.

His response made your body run cold, you never expected him to give you such an unpleasant ultimatum, abortion or breaking up, and you did not want to give up the baby, you had been wanting to be a mother for a while now, and now he’s trying to take that from you? After you’ve told him so many times that you were ready to be a mom? The man you’ve loved and were ready to be with forever, told you to give up your child.

So, you told him “Fine, if that’s the case, then you’re over.”

You gathered your essentials, not looking at him even as your heart broke, carrying a bag with your electronics, some clothes, and other important items, you left the apartment, texting the man you viewed as a grandfather to pick you up, you’re coming back to the manor after breaking up with your now ex boyfriend.

You waited for a few minutes with your thoughts, only now had you begun to realize all the red flags in your ex boyfriend, he never seemed interested in anything you said, whenever you brought up marriage or having kids, he would dismiss you, maybe it was about time you broke up, it probably just saved you from a horribly toxic relationship.

You were taken out of your thoughts when the familiar car pulled up to the parking lot of the apartment complex, your mind lightening slightly as you got up and got into the passenger seat, met by the butler and the man you and your siblings considered a grandfather, Alfred.

You explained the situation on the car ride to the manor, you could feel the sympathetic gaze coming from the older man as you pulled up to the imposing building, knowing you’d have to tell your family, and you could already guess their reactions.

[Bruce Wayne]

Bruce was the first one you told after you got back to the manor, it felt…awkward to say the least, telling your father you’re pregnant, but while you still feared a similar reaction to your ex boyfriend, Bruce didn’t react that way, he asked if you were alright, if you were worried, or ready. The fact that he had immediately focused on your wellbeing made you feel so much better about this situation.

Bruce would absolutely be a helicopter parent after you told him about your pregnancy, he would take you to the doctor appointments, he’d check on you hourly to make sure any of the symptoms of pregnancy weren’t bothering you too much. He’d absolutely get you the best doctors Gotham has to offer, or even doctors from outside the gloomy city, he wants you well taken care of.

All in all, he cares about his daughter, and he is very excited to be a grandfather, even if it’s just reminding him of his age, but he would want to help with setting up a nursery for the baby, 10/10 grandpa, he would adore the kid. (He’d also keep them the hell away from vigilantism.)

[Dick Grayson]

Now Dick would be the second person to know, and he, much like Bruce, would make sure you’re okay with everything that happened, while he’s excited to be an uncle, he also knows you just with through a breakup, and being the ladies (and men) man, he would be the one to comfort you through it, he’d help keep your mind off it by using horrible jokes and puns, he’d just be happy to make you smile.

Absolutely the one to feed in on your cravings if you get them, you want pickles and chips at three in the morning? Nightwing is seen in a 24/7 store trying to pick which one you’d like more, the media has a field day with that.

He’s the one that’s going to hold you through all of your emotions, your hormones are all over the place and he’s not going to be phased, you’re angry? He'll be angry at whatever you’re angry at with you. Sad about something you watched? He will be holding you through the tears. He’s had so many girlfriends, he knows how it works now, all the emotions that are bubbling up to the surface, and goddammit he will not let his little sister down.

Just a little thing, he absolutely loves baby shopping, adores it, he wants to buy every single outfit and toy, and is very pouty when you say you can’t get everything. Still picks out a shirt that says “Best Uncle” for himself, he taunts his brothers.

[Jason Todd]

Probably one of the last to know actually, he’s not at the manor a lot, so you’d have to tell him over text, and he would be breaking so many laws to speed his way to the manor because WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU'RE PREGNANT AND YOUR BOYFRIEND BROKE UP WITH YOU BECAUSE OF IT!? Immediately offers to take care of your ex, he does not care, nobody gets away with that on his watch, he probably would still try it even if you said no.

Once he calms down, he will actually be around the manor way more often, he’s watching over you, probably the one that helps whenever you get morning sickness, or just, throwing up in general. He looms, a lot. It’s scaring people and no he will not stop, don’t bother asking.

He’s probably really good at giving massages, would be the one to help when you’re further along and your body is starting to ache and be sore, he would not want you to move around a lot. If he could, he’d carry you.

(Very huffy after Dick got the “Best Uncle” shirt, would buy a second one and write a number two on it.)

[Tim Drake]

God, this poor man is so tired and experiencing a system restart when you tell him you’re pregnant. I feel like Tim would probably just nod before disappearing into his room and immediately starts to do research on what you can and can’t eat while pregnant, and literally everything else, definitely becomes the most knowledgeable on the subject of pregnancy.

Tim would make you a mood board or something for the nursery, specifically of things you like. It's honestly kinda odd how he got everything so correct, but it’s definitely nice to have a physical idea of what you want to do for your baby’s room.

He probably made a layout of the nursery to your exact specifications and is so ready to build everything for it, crib, toy chests, a rocking chair? He’ll be the first to start building everything, his brothers would have to get there quick enough to help as well, they’d have you sit in so they know where to put everything.

[Damian Wayne]

Damian would also offer to take care of you ex, except he would make it a statement, as in, he will be going after your ex, you will have to stop him, he will commit to it, don’t test him, he’s protective over his family.

Honestly, he’s probably very confused, but he’s trying his best, he understands that you shouldn’t be doing anything stressful, so even in your early stages of pregnancy, Damian would literally take anything remotely heavy from your hands and carry it for you, it’s sweet, but he does it every. single. time.

Damian is going to fight Dick for that shirt, he’s going to be the favorite uncle, but when he can’t get the shirt from his older brother? He buys a different one, “Favorite Uncle”, Dick may claim to be the best uncle, but he’s going to be the favorite uncle, he’s taunting everyone with this fact.

[Bonus: Alfred]

Alfred is the only one that actually knows what he’s doing, he was there when Bruce was born, he knows how to help a pregnant lady, which is a much needed comfort for you.

You secretly bought him a “#1 Great Grandpa” shirt, he is going to wear it when you have the baby, he adores the shirt, even if he doesn’t wear it often, it’s special to him.

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[Requests are open!]

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kenwio · 4 months ago

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Joker's kid reader! Blamed just for existing: how batfamily pushed them away

Route: black fog

Author`s note: study workload is crazy and I keep getting sick, but I finaly manage to work on the Black fog route. Sorry and hope you will like that

Warning: angst

Living in a manor was certainly better than living in the crime alley. You were safe, you had food, you even had your own room. All of this was great, sure, and for all of this you were deeply thankful for... but you couldn't shake of one icky feeling that was there no matter what. You never felt welcomed.

And taking the fact that you didn't even lift your hopes up that all of the batfamily members will love you, you couldn't deny that you got this uneasy feeling around them, it felt too heavy, too suffocating, too unbearable, too familiar. You felt like a plagued sick stray cat that was picked up from streets and placed into house with clean breed cats, and for all you knew, you hated how it felt. You felt like you were part of yet another experiment, and you hated this even more.

Yeah, Alfred was trying to care, and he genuinely tried to, but his gazes send chills down your spine, you felt like he was trying to analyze you, and it reminded you of how your father uses to stare at you, when he had experimented on you, as if he tried to figure out every single detail about you. And it didn't help that in trying to prove yourself helpful you ended up breaking things: dishes, cups, some electronics. You wished you were less clumsy, so that the old butler sees you are not that bad, that he sees you were trying to do something, to be less useless and more grateful for your new house. But all your hopes crumbled with every attempt. And in the end, you started giving up. If you are incapable to do things right, why doing them at all?

Tim analyzed your every move even more than Alfred did, but if you felt like old butler did it a subtle way, Tim didn't even hide it. And this was even more sickening, making you feel like a lab rat. You were sure that Tim would not hesitate to experiment on you too, and only thig stopping him now was the fact that Bruce took you in with another purpose. You felt like he was waiting for the time, as if you were the time bomb about to blow. Well, it was the same for Joker so automatically it's the same for you, Tim reassures himself. When you tried to approach, he didn't let you to, whether he walked away or closed the door. When you tried to speak, he put on his headphones. And it wasn't that bad, at least he looked at you, you thought hoping you could build your relationship on that. Maybe you two could find a way to get along, you thought catching another observant and hostile glare of the icy blue eyes.

And if Tim with Tim you felt like he hated you, with Jason and Damian it was more than obvious. Especially with Jason. It got to a point that you had to hide in your room when Jason was coming over. One time you noticed him in library when he was visiting the manor, and you decided to see what he was up to because you wanted to get to know him, but feared to approach him straight. Seeing him choosing a book, sitting in the sofa comfortably and reading the book was strangely comforting and fascinating view, the one you couldn't look away. But he caught you peeping, and the result of that was really ugly. He was livid, yelling at you with unimaginable anger, while all you could do is to shake as you listened to it all. After that you had to stay in your room when he was staying for dinner, night over, breakfast. You just didn't want to be yelled at like that anymore. You made him angry. You made him angry because all he saw in you were your father. You had to clue how to act with him, he to resolve it.

And as for Damian, you learned he saw you as threat, because of your background and his family background. He didn't even hide that he was ready to attack you any given moment. You felt unsafe when you noticed him. Every last bit of your self-preservation instinct was telling you he was a danger, even though he wasn't as enraged as Jason. You hated living in one corridor with him knowing that you will bump into each other, you will receive another mean comment from him. His comments cut deeper any knife your father used in you, but reviving them became a routine at this point. You just wish he could give you one chance. You just wish you could make him see that you were trying to adapt to your new life, but he didn't even give a second to think that you are not that bad. He knew you were the threat because of your father. He was going to protect his family, and you knew it held deep importance for him, but it broke your heart that he was protecting his family from you, who wanted to be in that family so bad.

It was better with Dick, much much better, but you swore the hostility others felt towards you was there with him, and you both could clearly feel it. Yet, he didn't seem to notice how this hostility of others made him hesitant to approach you too. Even though your first meeting gave you some hope that you still had a chance to make them see that you were willing to do anything to be close with someone, to have family. But he made clear you'll never be. He only played you a second of this attention before running off to do his stuff. You couldn't blame him, of course, he was busy you get that. But seeing him care about others, seeing him so bright and warm made you feel sick with jealousy, because you wanted what he gave him. But in the same time, you felt immense guilt. Not only for the jealousy, but for the thought he could care for you and for talking his precious time. His little siblings needed his help all because you came and disturbed their life. Dick was too sweet to try to act nice to you at all, because clearly you did not deserve it.

And as for Bruce, he was busy, and when he wasn't, he was awkward around you. Anything you did he analyzed even more than Tim and Alfred combined, he was even more distant than anyone and when he was trying to be nice with you it seemed even more forced than with Dick. Sometimes, you felt like he didn't see you, he saw someone else in you, but again, so did the rest of batfamily. And you knew oh so well who they saw. The joker. But for you it was even more hard, since he was the man who took you in. Why he did that if he didn't like you so much. You saw him being mentor, being dad, but he couldn't be it for you all because for your father. And you saw that he was trying to help, he even got you to psychiatrist, but he failed to realized what you truly needed was warmth, care and true parental figure.

And of course, you knew why exactly everything was so bad with trying to build your life in manor. You were the Joker's kid. You couldn't erase it. It printed in your being. You were the Joker's kid. The kid of the most famous Gotham villain, the kid of the wildfire of Gotham crime itself. And maybe even if for you it was obvious how different from you from how he was, even though even if you hated the man, even if he hurt you too, but it didn't matter. You couldn't change it. And it seemed no matter how hard you trued you couldn't prove you weren't like him.

You didn't choose it. You didn't want a father like that, you didn't want to be his test subject or goon. You didn't want to live in crime alley. But you had to live the life you so hated, feared and despised.

You were trapped in the shadow of your father, even though you hated it. But it seemed this shadow was stronger than anything else. This shadow followed you. This shadow poisoned your life and broke your pitiful attempts in trying to rebuild it to pieces. This shadow made you cry. This shadow took all the good things from you. This shadow made you miserable. This shadow broke your hopes and dreams.

This shadow was casted by a single fact.

You were the Joker's kid

That`s why batfamily would never be close with you.

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Thank you for reading! Feel free to let me know what you think about my work! Hope you have a good day

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♡ Tag list ♡

if i forgot someone or anyone want to be added please let me know

@dearlawdimasimp , @shirp-collector-of-fixations , @socially-embarrassing , @leovergurl , @deathbynarcisstick , @cryptic-arr0w , @lynns-cornerr , @cxcilla , @charlotteking23 , @ninihrtss , @lillycore , @pix-stuff , @tfamidoingwithmylife , @linoalwaysknows , @00hellohello00 , @lilithskywalker , @bagofrice , @lenaisaloser , @devilslittlehelper , @camilo-uwu , @l3v1us , @eyeless-kun , @stargazingbutgayer, @wpdarlingpan , @weirdothatreads , @maybea1 @mel-viper-wayne @amber-content @lizzyzzn @animadi888 @coldnightshark

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nightshade962 · 1 month ago

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Another dcxdp prompt any ship really, but I'm going to go with tim/danny because that is a hyper fixation for me for the for seeble future.

Danny has lasting nerve damage from being electrocuted. So he needs some help with his day to day and he has periodical seizures. His friends and family can only do so much besides Danny hates being a burden, not that he is. So what does he do get cujo trained as a service dog, or it could be any other dog, but I thought with how close he is with danny. Cujo takes his job very seriously. Think of one of those dogs that when on the job stand at attention. He helps Danny by picking up, caring, and standing up, and because he is a ghost and a dog, he can sense Danny's seizures well in advance. He also helps with ptsd. I'm one the vivisection bandwagon for Danny, which is quite traumatizing. Danny makes him a collar that make him solid while they are in the human world. Cujo is a registered meta dog thats how they get around the fact he is a never fading green and can get bigger. I headcanon that cujo for this prompt after he is trained grows to naturally bigger like the size of a large dog like a Rottweiler or an Anatolian Shepherd.

One day, the batfamily are at the park with Ace and Titus. Ace is Bruce's service dog for ptsd. They went to the park for a family day and for both dogs to be just that dogs. While they are there, they run into Danny and cujo. The duo stopped at the park for cujo to have a break. So, cujo is not wearing his vest. Danny has it. They are playing fetch. Damian spotted cujo and got upset that someone dyed a dog green. I think he doesn't know that some people will dye their service dog to be better spotted or to deter theft. He is still learning. Damian goes up to Danny and starts to lecture him about it. Cujo does not like this person acting like that to Danny. So he going up to them and getting larger. The batfam gets freaked out and runs over to Damian. Danny puts his hand on cujos' side to calm him. Bruce starts in on Danny on why does he has a meta dog. Danny just calmly puts on cujos' service vest. It stops the batfamily in the rant. They see the shift in the dog to i am on duty they see in Ace when he is working. The batfam see cujo circle Danny, causing them to back up away from him.( i can't remember what this is called). They see Danny relax a bit after cujo pushes them away. Damian asked why is the he green Danny explained a bit to him. Danny was holding something from his left hand, and he dropped it. cujo just picked it up for him and just held it when he saw Danny cant grasp it yet. Steph, with no filter, asks why does the dog just holds it. Danny says he is trained pickup, hold, push buttons, to help him get up, to alert him that he is having a seizure, and for ptsd. Danny then turns and leaves. The batfamily is left feeling terrible for how they acted.

Danny runs an electronic and hobby store. It has everything that you could need to build anything. He doesn't need to work with the riches from being ghost king. One day, tim is on the look for something he needs for a device. He has checked many stores when he gets to Danny’s store (I can't think of a name). Tim walks into see the guy from the park. Danny helps tim find what he needs. It becomes Tim's go-to place for what he needs. He starts to come pretty much every day. Danny asks him out. The rest is history.

That all I can think of at the moment. And I know I don't have everything accurate for service animals so if you know more put more in the comments and feel free to add

#batfamily #batman #batfam #dead tired #dpxdc #brain dead #danny phantom #tim drake/danny fenton #danny fenton #ghost king danny #dp cujo #ace the bathound #cujo is Danny’s service dog #ace is Bruce's service dog

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wynnerwynner · 1 month ago

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𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐋

bob reynolds x afab!avenger!reader

request: yes, yes

warnings: brief mention of drowning, oblivious idiots, spoiler free :)

wc: 1.9k

a/n: i listened to pushing it down and praying while editing hehe

Y/N’s narrowed eyes searched the common area of the Watchtower. In a corner of the floor-to-ceiling windows, Bob was curled in a chair with a book in his lap. It was one of the ones they’d recommended to her.

“Hey,” she smiled, giving his shoulder a nudge as she approached.

Bob did a double-take, then grinned softly. “Hi. What’s up?”

The ends of his hair curled, getting in his eyes a little, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“I found a cool bookstore online and I was thinking of going,” she explained. “Wanna join?”

Bob was one of the first people to truly make Y/N feel welcome. He hadn’t been the first one to introduce himself but he’d stood out. From the get-go, he was kind and careful, the complete opposite of men she’d met in the past. He seemed so normal. It made her heart ache sometimes.

“Uh…” he peered at his book, then as if thinking better of himself, he shook his head and closed it. “Yes—yeah, that’d be… that’d be cool.”

Valentina rarely gave the Avengers a break. It finally took Yelena putting her foot down for them to get a vacation. They had two weeks to themselves and Y/N would finally take the opportunity to visit some places she hadn’t gotten the chance to yet. It was also a good excuse to get Bob out of the Tower.

“When was the last time you left the Tower?” Y/N teased, shoulders rigid and fists deep in her pockets as she fought to block out the bitter wind.

“A long time, I guess,” his lips wobbled into an abashed smile. “Hey, I thought you didn’t get cold.”

“You’d think that,” she muttered indignantly. “I drown in a frozen lake and emerge with cold manipulation but my body doesn’t acclimate.”

“Here,” Bob shrugged off his jacket.

Despite the cold wind, Y/N face burned. “Oh, no, no,” she chuckled sheepishly.

“It’s all right,” he reassured. “I run hot, anyway.”

The brunette held out his jacket, allowing her to slip her arms in. Warmth enveloped her instantly. The smell of laundry detergent and trees filled her nose, bringing a sort of comfort to her.

“How’s that?” half his mouth quirked.

Y/N nodded, ignoring the deep ache in her stomach, “Better. Thank you.”

The walk to the bookstore was anything but quiet. Y/N was one of the few people to know that once you got close with Bob, he was a talker. He could be as excited as a little kid if you brought up the right topic. Books seemed to be one of those things.

A bell dinged as they entered the bookstore. Y/N nearly sighed aloud as the smell of books with glue older than her and yellowing pages filled her nose. To one wall were shelves of instrumental tools with guitars displayed above them. In other sections of long shelves there were action figures, electronics, vinyls and CDs, relatively new books, and old books. Y/N felt herself gravitating to the far right of the store where RARE READS was printed in large, red lettering on the wall.

A smile came over her lips as she noticed different prints of Pride and Prejudice, The Great Gatsby, and Little Women lining the shelves. Y/N’s gaze caught on Bob as he pulled a thin book from the shelf. It was bound in an orangey brown paper with intricate beige designs. The title and author stood out in lanky, black letters on the front.

“Have you read The Yellow Wallpaper?”

Y/N’s tone was so soft that it almost surprised her. She hadn’t wanted to sound so delicate of a question, cringing to herself as he did a double-take and seemingly hid his gaze from her.

“Uh… yeah,” he chuckled. “It was a mandatory read in high school. I dropped out before finishing it but I picked it up again recently and it’s probably one of my top favourites.”

Y/N almost couldn’t believe it. Her stomach twisted and she was overcome with a sense of relief. Oddly, it brought her a new sense of security around him.

Her brain struggled to form words so she opted for a soft, approving smile. Bob shot her a glance before gazing back to the book in his hands and continuing down the aisle. Y/N plucked book after book of the shelves, relishing in the crackling sound the pages made as she opened and closed them.

“Hey, Y/N,” Bob called.

At the end of the aisle, he held up a small box. As she stepped closer, she recognized it as a Winter Soldier action figure. Everything seemed to be accurate, except for his nose. Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, taking the plastic from his hand to study it.

“There’s one of you, too,” he said.

“Oh, God,” Y/N groaned, already imagining the worst.

When she looked at it, her face screwed up in embarrassment. Her eyes were a little too tilted and her lips a little too pursed.

“I look drunk,” she covered her mouth with her free hand.

Her action-figure-self was doing her signature move when she attempted to shoot icicles from her hands. They’d painted her fingertips and a dot on her palm blue for effect.

“It’s pretty accurate, actually,” he said.

At Y/N’s gaping mouth, Bob spluttered in apology, “I am so sorry, I—”

Y/N suddenly laughed, whether it was at his embarrassment or her own, she didn’t know. Bob’s face burned red, his chin tucking into his chest as she hid behind his hair.

“I—I didn’t mean it like that,” he spoke quickly. “I meant, like, you always look like that because you look beautiful.”

Bob’s mouth slowly shut as Y/N went quiet, her laughter dying off into a soft stare. She didn’t know what to say. It was so random coming from him. Did he mean it how she thought he meant it? No, that was stupid. He didn’t like her! He’s her teammate, that’d be unprofessional! It was definitely platonic. Bob was just being nice. He was always nice.

“Thank you,” she replied, a little more sheepish than she’d have liked.

Bob nodded, his tongue darting out to his bottom lip. “Yeah, you’re welcome.”

They stayed in the shop another thirty minutes just looking at everything. She found out Bob had a love for classics and thrillers. While she had only read more of the popular classics, her heart warmed in appreciation.

When the Watchtower elevator dinged and the doors dragged open, they were greeted by their entire team in the common area.

“Well, look who’s back,” John’s voice echoed from a velvet chair across the room.

All eyes went to Bob and Y/N, making them stop in their tracks. The plastic bag in Bob’s hand crinkled throughout the quiet room as he gripped it.

“You owe me twenty bucks,” Ava pointed at Alexei.

Y/N eyed her teammates, “Why does it feel like there’s an intervention happening.”

“Not ‘intervention’,” said Yelena from the kitchen island. “More like… a celebration.”

“Is it someone’s birthday?” Bob quirked a bewildered smile.

“We’re celebrating your first date,” Bucky said flatly as he poured a glass of whiskey.

Y/N’s eyes nearly bugged out of her skull, her neck pushing forward at the force of her surprise. “Our what?”

“Ha!” Alexei shouted, pointing back at Ava. “You owe me twenty bucks!”

“I’m extremely confused,” Bob chuckled uncomfortably.

“Ava and I make bet on whether you two like each other,” Alexei shrugged. “I win.”

Y/N glanced to Bob, who seemed just as confused as her, if not more.

“She’s wearing his jacket!” Ava exclaimed.

“Friends give each other clothes of their backs!” Alexei argued. “It is perfectly okay!”

“There is literally nothing normal about that, at all,” John agreed.

“Thank you—Wait, no,” Ava stopped herself, eyes closing. “No, I don’t want to thank you. You don’t deserve it.”

“Excuse me—”

“Guys, I hate to break it to you, but Bob and I are just friends,” Y/N chuckled, her face burning. “There’s nothing going on between us. I don’t even like Bob like that!”

“Yeah, I don’t even like her like that,” Bob scratched the back of his neck, eyes on the floor.

“Then why are you blushing,” said John.

Y/N shot daggers at John, who only smiled mischievously.

“Come on,” Yelena groaned. “Whenever we come back from a mission, you and Bob are the first ones you talk to; Bob reads your favourite books; you help him with the dishes; you sit beside each other on the couch every time—”

“Don’t forget about that time they fell asleep together,” Bucky pointed out from beside her.

Yelena smacked the super soldier’s chest with the back of her hand in agreement. “You fell asleep on each other during a movie and we just left you there!” she echoed.

The room was quiet as Y/N and Bob found themselves at a loss for words.

After an awkward departure to her room, Y/N lay awake on her bed. Car horns and the singing of brakes filtered through her cracked window. The only light in her dark room came from the moon.

There was a part of her that admitted some things about her and Bob’s friendship were bordering on romantic. The only time she’d shared a jacket with someone else was when her they had a crush on her and offered. Bob had called her beautiful in the store and no guy had ever called her beautiful without it being romantic. When a mission ended, all she could think about was getting home to Bob and telling him everything that had happened. He brought her a level of comfort she hadn’t known in a long time. He made her day infinitely better by simply smiling. She couldn’t get enough of his company.

A knock resounded through her door, startling her from her thoughts.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Bob,” he replied. “I—I can come back another time if it’s—”

Y/N scrambled to her door and ripped it open faster than intended. He stood on the other side, arms loose at his sides, hands hidden in his sleeves.

“Hi,” he sighed.

“Hey.”

In the fluorescent hallway lights, she realized that his eyes were a dark blue. As dark as the deepest part of the sea. She felt herself getting lost in them before he quirked a smile.

“Can I come in?”

“Uh,” Y/N scrambled to catch her bearings, “yeah.”

Bob squeezed past her and took a seat at the end of her bed. He’d sat there many times before as she finished getting ready for a mission or for a special event Valentina was ordered them to. She remembered the way he looked at her when she would come out in the fancy outfits. He’d seem to be at a loss for words, but she’d laugh it off as him being socially awkward and being too afraid to say the wrong thing. He was always so respectful.

“I had a lot of fun today,” he broke the silence again.

Y/N nodded, taking a seat beside him. “Me too. I’m glad you came with me.”

“I’m glad I did, too.” He smiled at her, but it faltered as he studied her face.

“What?”

Bob’s brows furrowed. “I’ve been thinking, um, about what everyone said.”

Y/N gazed at the cream carpeted floor, “Me too.”

“Really? Um… actually, I wanted to know if you’d go on a real date. With me. Sometime. You know, only if you’re up to it. It’s okay if you—”

Y/N’s face broke out into a smile and she laid a hand on top of his, effectively silencing his rambling. “I’d love to.”

Bob stared at their fingers, then spluttered a laugh and nodded. “All right. It’s a date.”

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seellove · 3 months ago

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Travel Time! - Sukuna x Reader

Just got done packing for a trip and just had to write traveling with Sukuna before bed lol. Mainly fluff with some suggestive undertones.

Pt 1 - Pt 2 - Pt 3

Traveling with Husband!Sukuna is always an experience given his grumpy nature.

Husband!Sukuna gets home from work and finds you’ve already prepared a packing list for your vacation tomorrow. You ask him to retrieve the suitcases from the basement and lug them up to your bedroom.

Husband!Sukuna who brings them up like you asked, a little grouchy but otherwise unbothered…until you tell him you need one carry on and one full sized bag, so you send him back down two stories to replace one of the small carry ons. He huffs and sighs dramatically as he reappears, but you just offer a happy “thanks baby” and turn back to gathering up everything.

Husband!Sukuna who gets annoyed when you come and ask for the fourth time to come look at his clothes with you while he’s trying to game. He is glad you are taking care of the packing but he claims to not care about what clothes you pack for him.

Husband!Sukuna who you know better than that because he’s way pickier than he claims to be, so you force him to come approve of what you’ve chosen and sure enough, doesn’t like the shirts you picked so he chooses some to replace.

Husband!Sukuna who likes to go to bed early and wake up early, starts getting ready for bed while you are finalizing everything. Before he can lay down though, you ask him to bring the trash out, bring the suitcases downstairs, and make sure his backpack is packed so that nothing is forgotten in the morning. More grunting and huffing follows as he brings everything down. Sometimes he thinks you just like watching him move around heavy shit and he’s not wrong because seeing the way his forearms flex and his biceps bulge isn’t a bad thing by any means.

Husband!Sukuna who is now grumpy and sleepy, asks if you need anything else before he finally lays down. You say no but as he sits on the bed and takes his shirt off, you ask if he can get you a glass of water. “Make up your mind woman,” he mutters before trudging back downstairs. Even if he moans and groans, he’ll never say no to you.

Husband!Sukuna who says he’s laying down for good, gets comfortable and watches you scurry around the room rounding up toiletries for tomorrow. He wishes you’d just handle the rest tomorrow and get in bed to snuggle up together. His gruff and grumpy exterior wouldn’t indicate this, but you know after a long day he wants nothing more than to wrap you up in his arms and hold you close. “Almost done Kuna!” you say as you zip up the toiletry bag, noticing his longing, red eyes from his pillow.

Husband!Sukuna whose alarm goes off bright and early, untangles himself from you, telling you to stay asleep while he finalizes everything. Sukuna loads up the car with everything, gets a coffee made for you, makes sure everything is neat and tidy for when you get back, and makes sure your electronics are charged for the plane ride.

Husband!Sukuna gently wakes you up, saying it’s time to get ready. He goes to heat up the car while you quickly get dressed and find your coffee hot and ready on the kitchen counter. You realize he’s taken care of everything else and your heart skips a beat. He’s always anticipating and thinking three steps ahead to make your life easier.

Husband!Sukuna who drives to the airport, listening to you yap about everything you have planned and how excited you are to be going on your tropical getaway. He hums in agreement, not really caring about the activities or the location, just that he’s excited to spend some time with you. In his eyes he just needs a nice, big bed that he can lay you down on without the distractions of your normal home life.

Husband!Sukuna is too busy day dreaming about fooling around with you and doesn’t hear you ask him where he was going to park for the third time. He chooses the garage closest to the airport, his woman shouldn’t be subjected to walking long distances in the winter cold. He’d carry you if he could, but he needs to handle all the bags, he wouldn’t let you life a finger to help haul everything inside.

Husband!Sukuna who follows your lead as you walk up to the airline counter. He has no idea about any of the trip ins and outs, he just follows you around, happy to be in your presence. He loves how much of a planner you are and it impresses him every time you plan a trip for you both. It’s certainly a gift you possess and he loves that about you.

Husband!Sukuna drops the bags off at the counter while you gather the boarding passes. With his hands finally free of the luggage, he laces his fingers with yours, you squeezing his warm, rough hand in return. You lean against his side and he leans down to plant a kiss on the top of your head. “Alright baby, let’s get this adventure started,” he says as you head towards security, excited to leave your busy lives behind for a few days.

Part 2 will be navigating the airport and the flights. This seems so random but I’m flying tomorrow and this just came to me lol.

#sukuna x reader #sukuna headcanons #sukuna x you #jjk x you #jjk x reader #sukuna fluff #jujustsu kaisen x reader #ryomen sukuna #husband sukuna

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black-fist-order · 3 months ago

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BREAKING - AND NOW THERE ARE THE EMAILS TO PROVE IT.

Trump has been on a vendetta against the State of Maine, in a personal revenge campaign against Governor Janet Mills.

Trump clashed with Mills at a White House event for the National Governors Association back on February 20th.

As he boasted he was ending the participation of transitioned students in women's sports, he singled her out and demanded that Maine comply with his order. There is only one such student athlete in the entire state.

Mills replied that Maine's schools were complying with all State and Federal Laws.

GASP. A WOMAN. Speaking back to TRUMP. He was furious.

“Well, we are the federal law,” Trump bawled. “You’d better do it. You’d better do it, because you’re not going to get any federal funding at all if you don’t.”

The Governor was not impressed. She is a former state attorney general and district attorney.

“We’re going to follow the law sir. We’ll see you in court,” she said sternly.

Something like this was like nothing Trump had ever seen before in the history of the world. It was catastophic. It was disgusting. It was NASTY.

“Enjoy your life after governor, because I don’t think you’ll be an elected official afterwards,” Trump snarled.

He could not let go of it. He seethed for the next two days, and even golf at Mar-a-Lala could not distract him. In a late Saturday night rant on X he demanded "a full throated apology" from Mills.

She ignored him.

"This will not end well for the Governor and the people of Maine," said a statement from the White House.

It has not.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Trump’s Department of Education head, wrestling queen Linda McMahon, launched an "inquiry" against Maine's Department of Education last week.

This week, The New York Times reported that Trump’s Department of Agriculture said that it had “frozen federal funding for education programs in Maine, the latest in a barrage of actions targeting the state.”

MSNBC reports that "in case that weren't quite enough National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration sent a letter to Maine cancelling funding for Maine Sea Grant."

Maine Public Radio says that in recent days, both the U.S., Department of Health and Human Services and the U.S. Department of Education have declared that Maine is violating Title IX. The agencies have given the state 10 days to come into compliance with the Trump administration's interpretation of the law and make other changes or risk referral to the U.S. Department of Justice for additional potential sanctions.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

But besides all of this - from the safety of his chair behind his desk - Trump ordered acting Social Security Administration Commissioner Leland Dudek to don the armor of Truth, Justice and the American Way and had sent HIM for a holy joust against the fearsome Dragon of Maine.

Dudek decided to take out Trump's revenge on new parents and grieving families in Maine.

Leland asked his staff about what contracts Maine had with the Social Security Administration, and he cancelled them.

He ordered the cancellation of the online electronic program that allowed babies to be given Social Security numbers right from the hospital, and the program allowing the hospitals to register deaths by electronic verification.

Huffpost reports: According to their emails, the Social Security staff informed Dudek that canceling the contracts “would result in improper payments and potential for identity theft.”

Dudek told his staff to go for it anyway.

“Please cancel the contracts. While our improper payments will go up, and fraudsters may compromise identities, no money will go from the public trust to a petulant child,” Dudek wrote, referring to Governor Janet Mills.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Canceling the vital records contracts would not only make it more difficult for families to register births and deaths IN PERSON at Social Security offices, it also would make it more difficult for the federal government to track births and deaths in Maine accross ALL GOVERNMENT AGENCIES, all of which use Social Security records to prevent improper payments.

And all the agencies let Dudek know it.

Dudek reinstated the contracts in less than 24 hours amid an outcry the agencies, AND from pediatricians, hospitals, funeral directors and Maine’s congressional delegation. He said he hadn’t "intended" to create an “undue burden on the people of Maine,” though his internal emails expressed exactly that.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Wednesday, those emails were obtained by Rep. Gerry Connolly (D-Va.), the top Democrat on the House Oversight Committee.

Rep. Connolly has called on Dudek to resign immediately.

“The acting commissioner of the Social Security Administration should serve the American people, not create waste, fraud, and abuse on the taxpayer’s dime,” Connolly wrote in a letter to Dudek laying out the email traffic.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Dudek is only a Trump appointee, and has not received any official Senate confirmation for the important post he holds.

He had been only a mid-level IT staffer at Social Security when he helped Elon Musk’s DOGE team access sensitive databases inside the agency, which he bragged about on LinkedIn. He was put on administrative leave.

But when the Social Security head resigned in protest, and more senior officials refused to cooperate with Musk’s team, Trump tapped him to lead the agency as acting head.

Last month, Dudek threatened to shut the agency down altogether after a federal judge ordered DOGE affiliates to withdraw from Social Security databases containing sensitive personal information about Americans.

Dudek knows NOTHING about the contracts the federal governments has with the states. He knows NOTHING about what they mean, and he cares NOTHING about the consequences. And he cares NOTHING about making OUR information safe.

He also obviously cares NOTHING about Trump's and Musk's purported crusade to prevent fraud and waste in government.

So far, the Social Security Administration has not responded to calls by the news media for comment.

Neither has the White House...

#fuck trump #maga morons #fuck maga #maga cult #traitor trump #republican assholes #republican cheats #trump is an idiot and so are his voters #fuck the gop #inbred

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yokohamapound · 4 months ago

Note

Bungou Stray Dogs characters responding to you answering their question with, "Don't worry about it, Kitten."? 😆

You always have the best asks. 😂

Characters: Dazai Osamu, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Akutagawa Ryuunosuke, Nakahara Chuuya, Nakajima Atsushi, Edogawa Ranpo, Fukuzawa Yukichi

Contents: gn!reader

Dazai Osamu

Dazai has to stop his lazy chatter or his whining for a second to try and parse whether he heard that correctly. He lifts his head from where it's slumped on a cushion, the rest of his gangly body splayed out on the couch. He mentally replays the last few seconds and yeah, you said what he thought you said.

A slow, sly grin creeps its way across his face as he sits up, eyeing you where you're making coffee in the kitchen. His brown eyes sparkle with amusement and mischief. He's not used to his own brand of flirting being directed back at him and he's delighted.

Long arms wrap around your waist from behind, and the point of his chin comes to rest on your shoulder.

"If I'm your kitten, shouldn't you be petting me and hand-feeding me crab?" he wheedles.

You scoff, lifting a hand to ruffle his warm brown waves. He gives a pretty good impression of a purr, at least until you flick his nose, retorting, "Don't make me get the spray bottle."

Fyodor Dostoevsky

Fyodor doesn't react immediately.

His question was likely not something related to his plans or any major operations, or you wouldn't have answered him so flippantly. Perhaps it was a casual enquiry as to your day, or just asking what you were doing.

He leans slowly back in his chair and turns to look at you, his eyes glinting violet-red in the dim light of his screens.

A soft huff of amusement cuts through the quiet hum of electronics. His gaze takes you in from head to toe.

"You do like your little games, don't you, myshka? Just remember, that if I am the cat, you are the mouse."

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke

You'd better be his s/o if you're going to pull this, because he has killed people for less.

When your words register, Akutagawa's eyes widen, white showing all around the grey. A blotchy flush appears on his pallid cheeks.

"What did you just say to me?" he asks, venomous.

If there is anyone else who was close enough to hear it, they are probably dead. Akutagawa's black coat ripples, Rashoumon stirring in response to his anger and embarrassment.

Akutagawa slaps a tendril of Rashoumon over your mouth.

"...never say that again, fool."

He stalks off in a huff.

Nakahara Chuuya

Chuuya has a moment of BSOD, where he's not sure what he just heard. His head whips toward you so fast that his hat almost flies off. His eyebrows crash down into a scowl, while heat creeps up his neck and turns his ears crimson.

"Oi, what'd ya just call me?"

"What's wrong, kitten?" you repeat.

He sputters, annoyed and flustered and not entirely sure how he should react to that. Chuuya, being Chuuya, he aggressively adjusts his hat and straightens his shoulders, as if he can shrug off what you just said.

"I ain't no damn kitten."

Don't try and attach a bell to his choker.

Nakajima Atsushi

Completely clueless.

He just stops what he's doing, the earnest, cheerful look on his face melting into one of blank confusion.

"Um, did you just call me...?"

He's too embarrassed to say the word out loud, his cheeks pink.

"Call you what, kitten?"

You're enjoying this far more than you should, you sadist.

Atsushi swallows, looking around to make sure no one else hears you call him such an embarrassing nickname. He'd never live it down.

"Uh, is this because of the tiger thing?"

Edogawa Ranpo

Ranpo is leaning back in his chair, his feet propped up on the desk, a lollipop lodged firmly in his mouth. He's a little bored because there are no fun cases to solve, but he has candy, and you're nearby, so things aren't too bad, as far as he's concerned.

He doesn't even bat an eyelid when you address him as "kitten". He's halfway toward being a cat already.

Taking the lollipop from his mouth and waving it through the air, he declares, "Meow."

You should also get him a pair of cat ears. He'll wear them without a trace of shame.

"Hey, if I'm your kitten does that make you my Discord daddy?"

Fukuzawa Yukichi

I doubt anyone has ever had the balls to say something like that to Fukuzawa before, so first I must congratulate you on your cojones (metaphorical or otherwise).

He turns toward you, his stern face expressionless. After a moment, one of his eyebrows quirks up.

"Not in public, dear," he intones.

You're left spluttering, the tables so neatly turned on you. Never underestimate Fukuzawa.

#yokohamapound #bungou stray dogs #bsd headcanons #bsd imagines #Dazai Osamu #Fyodor Dostoevsky #Akutagawa Ryuunosuke #Nakahara Chuuya #Nakajima Atsushi #Edogawa Ranpo #Fukuzawa Yukichi #Dazai x Reader #Fyodor x Reader #Akutagawa x Reader #Chuuya x Reader #Atsushi x Reader #Ranpo x Reader #Fukuzawa x Reader

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spiderb00bs · 5 months ago

Text

- MURDEROUS LOVE

Tara Carpenter x (g!p) reader (requets) MDNI

" Tara Carpenter doesn't like Ghostfaces, but what happens if you're one of them?”

Genre – smut Warnings – Blood, degradation, reader is literally a murderer

Now playing – P*RNSTAR, by Nessa Barrett

The knife you were holding was completely stained with blood, the blood of another one of your victims. The tall guy, who was now dead on his own couch, was the same jerk who had flirted with Tara a few weeks ago. Tara wasn't your girlfriend, but there was something inside you that bubbled dangerously when some idiot like that hit on the younger Carpenter.

You didn't understand how these assholes thought they had the slightest chance with her, they were so stupid that you got angry, and that's why you decided it was better that they could never be able to breathe again.

Wiping the blood from your knife, you breathed heavily through the mask you wore. All the chasing and screaming of that idiot had excited you, and as if it were a sign from the universe, your phone rang, Tara's name on the message handle.

Babadook girl – I'm alone, do you want to come?

Seeing the message, your expression perked up under the mask, an idea popping into your head. You and Tara weren't official, you weren't dating, but maybe it was your chance to tell young Carpenter who she belonged to. By quickly typing a short answer, you left your victim's house, your effort to do a perfect job leaving you without a trace.

Meanwhile, Tara had the apartment to herself, silence hung in the corners of the room and young Carpenter was impatient, expecting you to be at her door at any moment. The television was showing some program that Tara was not very interested in watching. In fact, the girl was constantly looking in the direction of the door, as if it would make you get there faster.

When her phone rang on the table, Tara got a little startle, curling up on the couch before finally reaching for the electronics on the coffee table. "Unknown number" was what it said on the caller ID, and for a moment, Tara felt an agonizing shiver run down her spine. Pressing the green button, Tara brought the phone to her ear, she was sure the person on the other end of the line could hear her unregulated breathing, but she couldn't care less.

"Hello..."

"Why did it take you so long to answer me Tara?"

The same voice, that same distorted and sick voice was speaking to Tara now. The same voice she has nightmares about, the same voice with someone else under the mask. Tara's hand began to tremble, and before she could even text Sam, a noise of broken glass was heard inside the apartment.

Tara, who was in the living room, went in silent steps to the kitchen, grabbing one of the largest knives in one of the drawers, going to the corner of the wall and trying to normalize her breathing, the last thing she would want was to have an asthma attack now. Bringing the phone closer to her ear again, Tara heard a sinister laugh, making all of the younger Carpenter's senses grow two times stronger.

"Are you coming to find me? Or do you want me to come to you, Tara?"

"Fuck You." Looking in the direction of the hallway, Tara walked slowly to the door, trying her best not to make a sound.

"I can do that." The laugh that the person on the other line let out made Tara nauseous, the tone that Ghostface used was sinister and suggestive at the same time. "Why are you so shy Tara? You asked me to come..."

"I would never ask a motherfucker like you to come here!" Tara said, her breathing quickening as she tried to unlock the front door without making a sound.

From the sound she had heard, The Ghostface could only be in one of the rooms, and the last thing she wanted was for them to hear her opening the door. As the sound of the lock clicked across the apartment, Tara turned the handle, the sense of freedom quickly replaced by horror, as all she felt was Gosthface's gloved hand squeezing her neck.

Tara's phone was now on the floor, and when she tried to scream only grumbles came out when Ghostface put them hand over her mouth. Tara thought she had no more chance, she had ended up there.

"Did you think you were going to leave me, you bitch?" Tara didn't know what, but something about the touch of the person underneath the mask was unlike anything she'd ever experienced. "You called me here, Tara. It's not going to be that easy."

When the masked person threw Tara onto the couch and towered over her, all the young Carpenter did was fight, punching and kicking the masked person, who didn't seem to be affected by any of the woman's blows beneath them. But we all have a breaking point, and while none of Tara's blows hurt them, it was all becoming too much for the person under the mask.

"STOP IT FUCKING OFF!" The Ghostface screamed, pinning Tara's hands on top of her head, not too hard to hurt her, but strong enough to scare the young Carpenter. "DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND? I DID ALL THIS FOR YOU!"

Tara didn't know what to say, the words of the masked person on top of her didn't make sense. The sound of heavy breathing was all over the apartment, echoing over the walls. And it was only when Ghostface took off the mask, that everything clicked in Tara's head.

"Yn?" Tara was confused, tears running down her face. Seeing her friend, the person she had confided so much with, the girl she had fallen in love with, was just devastating. "Why?"

"Because I love you, Tara." You said, running one of your hands over the Carpenter girl's face, pulling out the wires that came out of place in the fight. "I did all this for you, baby. I killed all those guys, for you. You're mine, Tara."

Tara didn't want to, but looking at you, on top of her, saying that you did all this for her, made her excited. You could be arrested, you could ruin your future, you put everything to waste, for her. Young Carpenter knew that what she was feeling was sick and distorted, but she couldn't help it when it came to you.

"You didn't have to do that to have me, you could have said." Tara said, looking into your eyes, the same eyes she looked at when you were in bed together. "You killed people, Yn."

"No, no, no." You quickly denied it, the movement of your head emphasized what you were saying. "I killed boys. Those idiots who thought they had a chance with someone as perfect as you, Tara."

The puppy eyes you were giving Tara, made her melt, made her think you just wanted to protect her.

"Remember that idiot, the one who called you a whore because you said you wouldn't go out with him?! I killed that son of a bitch, Tara." The woman paid attention to your every word, it was not only making her ego grow, but also the moisture between her legs. "He died with my knife in his mouth, because only I can call you things like that, Tara. You are mine."

Stroking the woman's hair beneath you, you took a second to look at her, contrary to what you thought, Tara was no longer so scared, she seemed afraid of something, but not terrified like she was when you walked through the door.

"Did you do everything for me?" Tara asked, her legs were trapped by your weight on top of them, but you didn't let the way she rubbed her thighs pass.

"Why? Did you like it?" You asked, taking Tara's chin in your hand and making her look at you, with an embarrassed look. "Tell me if you liked it, Tara."

"Yes." The words came out of young Carpenter's mouth like a groan, making you start to think that she liked it as much as you did.

"You like it, don't you? You slut." Your grip was still firm on her cheeks, but Tara still managed to shake her head in confirmation. "You liked to know what I did to those idiots who tried to be like me, didn't you?!" Your free hand went down to the button of the pants Tara was wearing, unbuttoning and sliding in.

"God, yes. I only like it when it's you." Your fingers circled her clitoris, making the woman beneath you let out sighs and gasping moans.

"You're a little whore just for me, aren't you Tara?" Your fingers slippery enough that you finally slid them inside her.

"Fuck, yes. Please."

"Do you want to cum, Tara?" making a back and forth with your fingers, you got close to the young Carpenter's face, kissing her forehead and watching her confirm with her head. "Use your words, slut."

"yes, I want to cum." And as soon as the words left Tara's mouth, your fingers stopped moving.

Taking your hand out of the brunette's pants, you pulled her by the hair, making her get up from the couch. The moan that the woman let out was soon silenced by your mouth, which pulled her into a messy kiss. The two of you teeth collided in the kiss, and Tara could feel you bite her lip hard.

In the middle of the kiss, Tara's hands went down your black outfit, finding the zipper and lowering it. The brunette couldn't lie, but seeing you only in your bra and underwear did something to her, it was like you were walking around, killing the people who had already made her feel uncomfortable, only to come back and fuck her at the end of the day.

"Fuck, you're so hard." Tara said, getting off your lap and kneeling in front of you.

Her hand making up and down movements over the fabric was making you even more excited, and you couldn't believe it was really happening. The adrenaline rush of the things you'd done before and the moment you'd had with Tara had driven you crazy, wanting a piece of the Carpenter girl as soon as possible.

"All for you, baby." You said, helping Tara take your underwear off you.

Your cock jumped, landing on your abs, pre-cum was leaking from your pink tip and for a moment Tara was hypnotized.

"Do you love me, baby?" Starting the movements again, she looked at you with those big eyes that you knew very well.

"More than anything." Throwing your head back, you answered Tara's question, moaning as the woman on her knees gave a kiss to the pink head of your cock.

"Do you want to date me?" Tara asked, giving an experimental lick from the base to the head.

"Fuck, yes." Seeing you with your eyes closed and your head thrown back, Tara dug her nails into your thighs, making you moan in pain and look at her immediately.

"Then ask." What was she doing? She wasn't in charge, you were.

"What the fuck are you doing, you slut-" You tried to say, being cut as Tara dragged her nails across your skin, drops of blood forming in the tracks she had left.

"FUCK, YOU BITCH!"

"ASK, IF YOU DID ALL THAT FOR ME THEN PROVE IT!"

"FUCK! OKAY!"

Stopping the screaming for a second, Tara waited for you to say what she wanted to hear, and although she was afraid of what you could do to her because she said, deep down she knew you would never hurt her, you needed her.

"Tara, do you want to be my girlfriend?" You asked, making the brunette smile at you, not even answering you before putting part of your cock inside her mouth.

"Fuck!" To your surprise, you threw your head back again, then straightened up and tilted your head so that you could see all the work Tara was doing on you. "You're mine, only mine."

Your hand, which was now lovingly positioned on Tara's head, followed the woman's movements, Tara's mouth was hot, and all that stimulation was driving you crazy. The speed with which Tara's mouth worked on you and her hands jerking off what she couldn't put in her mouth, became too much for you.

"Tara, I'm going to cum."

Letting your cock slide out of her mouth, Tara stood up, moving away from you and making the knot in your stomach shrink considerably. With a tearful groan, you looked at Carpenter in front of you, who was unbuttoning her pants and sliding her panties down her heels.

"Sam will be coming soon, we don't have much time." Settling into your lap, Tara guided your cock to her pussy, your bodies fitting as if you were made for it.

When you finally entered the woman, the moans that came out of the two of you echoed through the apartment. At this point, Tara wouldn't even mind receiving a complaint about the noise, she just wanted you. Being inside Tara was paradise, and you never wanted to leave. Her walls embraced you with love and the sensation you felt made your eyes roll.

"Fuck, you're so tight, baby." You said, Tara moving her hands from your neck to your hair, messing it up as she pulled your head in, making you look at her.

"Is that what you wanted?" Tara asked, innocent eyes staring back at you. "Did you want me to be yours?!"

"Yes, only mine. None of those guys can touch you, because you're my slut." Spreading your hands on Tara's ass, you started to push inside her, making the woman on top of you let out moans of pleasure.

Even though she liked all the words you called her, and liked to see you being so dominant and powerful in your Ghostface outfit, Tara knew exactly how to control you,

make you think you'd always be in control of your relationship, when in fact, the younger Carpenter had you in the palm of her hand.

"I love you, baby. None of those guys will ever have you." You said, putting your hand on the brunette's neck and accelerating the pace of your thrusts.

"I'm yours, baby. Completely yours, no one else's."

Your impulses were fast, making Tara's moans get louder and louder, and you knew that meant she was about to cum. Placing your hand just below her abs, you applied pressure, causing Tara to scream louder than you thought she could. With your other hand, you drew circles on her clit, driving the woman beneath you crazy.

Rolling her eyes, Tara felt like she was in heaven, you hitting her non-stop, the pressure you made on her and your fingers working from her clitoris, were too much. Tara's body twitched, spasms coming out involuntarily, and you knew she was cumming when you felt the woman's insides tighten around you.

Without stopping your movements, you continued chasing your orgasm, while prolonging Tara's. Your eyes rolled back just like the woman below you, you let out a grunt accompanied by Tara's moan, who now contemplated the sensation of your warm seed pouring inside her.

Lying on the couch next to the smaller woman, you kissed Tara passionately, just a confirmation that everything was fine.

"That was amazing." Tara said looking at you. Her hand caressed your hair, trying to comb it back into place.

"I love you, Tara. And I don't regret anything." You said, watching Tara's eyes falter a little.

"we can talk about this later. We'll enjoy it while Sam wasn't here yet."

She didn't know how to make you stop, but she would have to find a way without you getting hurt.

Hi guys, the first request for this account has just been made.

Thank you to anon who placed the request <3

Stay safe, drink water

xoxo, spider.

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter x g!p reader #g!p reader #gxg imagine #gxg smut #spiderb00bs

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ceilidho · 6 months ago

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fear of god

prompt: There's someone outside the spacecraft. You don't remember them being part of the crew. Part 5 masterlist

The day starts poorly and ends worse.

You sit with Gaz’s words all night and decide by morning’s first light that it is worth worrying about them after all. But for a different reason. The worry you settle on is that your deteriorating mind is now giving you warning signals of troubles to come, manifested in the form of an astronaut outside of the ship. A messenger; a harbinger.

Breakfast is cold coffee over bit fingernails. You pull at a hangnail until it tears and pain zips up your finger, blood welling up under the split skin. Since you take your coffee in the medical unit these days, bandages and disinfectant are always within reach, meaning your fingers are always wrapped in them. Pigs in blankets.

You make your way across the ship when morning briefing comes, fingers throbbing by your sides.

Farah watches you from the other side of the cockpit during the briefing, her gaze inscrutable as ever. It takes a conscious effort not to shake under her stare. You’re not sure what she’s looking for, but whatever it is, it can’t be good.

In the background, Graves drones on about something that doesn’t penetrate through the thick miasma of your thoughts. It goes on for entirely too long. When he dismisses you all for the day, you stand up on crooked legs and hope they don’t buckle under you on the walk back to the medical unit. Farah’s eyes follow you until the door shuts behind you.

You make another coffee instead of getting started on your tasks for the day. Your research can wait. That’s what you tell yourself at least, nails tapping against the metal table while the coffee machine spurts out your drink in a short, violent burst. A thin, reedy hiss. No instant crystals this time. It tastes almost burnt when you bring it to your lips.

The mundanity of work pales in comparison to the events rapidly unfolding before your eyes. Are you sick or well? Is the man outside the ship real or not? Surely not, you tell yourself, pulse picking up again. You know better than that. Occam’s razor: the simplest explanation is most likely the correct one.

It’s just that you don’t like where your mind is going with this one.

The alarm goes off when your head is bent over the microscope, the sound so sudden and jarring that you nearly tumble right off your stool. It blares a piercing shriek through the medical unit and the hall outside, so loud that you cup your hands over your ears to hear yourself think. The stool clatters to the ground when you hurriedly slide off, heading towards the door.

You stumble into the hallway to find it flooded in red light, pulsating in steady intervals for any deaf crew members. It guides you like a beacon down the hall towards the cockpit. Standard protocol is to head to either extremity of the ship, lifepods stored at both the front and back of the ship in case of an emergency.

The others are already in the cockpit by the time you arrive. Claustrophobia sets in when the doors slide shut behind you, the room smaller with everyone packed inside at the same time.

You feel someone’s eyes flick towards you before flitting away in the same second. Accounted for and disregarded. Hardly meriting any attention when the alarm blaring overhead is a far more pressing concern.

Graves punches a button. “Ship, what’s the situation?”

Micrometeoroid impact

Damage sustained to starboard quarter

“Some of the photovoltaic cells are cracked,” Alex says, checking the status of the ship on another computer screen. “We have replacements though—could be worse.”

“Could be a lot fuckin’ better too,” Graves grumbles, forehead already pinched.

Despite not being an engineer or astrophysicist, you’ve gone on enough interplanetary voyages to understand the implications of damaging the photovoltaic solar panels. Much of the electronics on board rely on the electricity derived from sunlight; this particular ship, designed only to venture as far as Jupiter, isn’t equipped with an alternative power source.

“Should I engage the Canadarm to fix the damaged panel?” Alex asks from his perch.

Graves shakes his head. “We need to preserve as much power as possible while the cruise control is still out. It’ll have to be fixed manually.” With that said, he flips a switch to shut off the droning alarm, though the lights overhead stay red.

You flinch when the chief engineer slaps his hands down on his thighs, the sound jolting you out of your spiralling thoughts.

“Don’t worry, don’t worry,” he sighs, mock aggrieved. “I fix like usual. No problem.”

“Nothing different than what we trained for.”

“Easy peasy,” he confirms, an easy smile on his face.

“Okay, Nikolai, suit up—I’ll guide you from the cockpit,” Graves instructs, shifting into a mode you’ve never seen before. “Hadir, there’s a replacement panel in section seven in the cargo hold—get it and bring it back now. Nikolai’s going to have to fix it from the outside.”

The terror that lances through you when Graves says that is immediate and sharp. You know nothing’s out there, but the fear response is as real as if something were.

It’s an unwarranted response, fueled by paranoia and delusion. This is a scenario the crew has prepared for back on Earth a multitude of times. They wouldn’t have been given clearance to leave the planet without having run through every potential complication and calamity. There are strict regulations to follow, protocols and standards to ensure that nothing comes as a surprise.

But still—

Your chest is tight. Heart pounding against your ribcage so hard that you wince. There’s no one outside the ship but still you can’t help but think that opening the doors might let it in.

When Nikolai leaves to suit up for the spacewalk, you trail after him, following Farah’s lead. You didn’t notice that Hadir had already departed, but his absence is glaring on the walk towards the airlock.

“Smile a little, Farah,” Nikolai says, poking fun at the eternally stern woman keeping pace with him. “It’s good to have some excitement around here.”

“I’m not a fan of excitement,” she responds, voice terse. He laughs at her words, the booming sound echoing through the corridor.

You watch helplessly as Nikolai gears up, Farah helping him lock the helmet into his suit, doing a quick, final inspection of the glass to ensure that there aren’t any cracks or scratches.

The glass of Nikolai’s visor glints opalescent under the station lights, the glass infused with low-grade aerogel to protect from interplanetary radiation and solar winds. Packets of higher grade aerogel are stuffed into the lining of his suit, protecting the rest of his body as well.

Hadir returns not long after with all of the requisite parts needed for the repair neatly stored in a rectangular container that attaches securely to the front of Nikolai’s suit, leaving his hands free. The three move in synchrony, a finely-tuned dance practiced repeatedly in the months leading up to the launch.

You keep to the wall in order to avoid getting in the way.

The first door leading into the airlock is opened when Nikolai finally gives Farah the word, their checklist run through twice before being met with approval.

Nikolai deliberately turns away from the door when the airlock door shuts behind him and the chamber begins to depressurize. You wince sympathetically when you notice his shoulders tense. The oxygen in his tanks is specially designed to purge the nitrogen from his blood, but under better conditions, he would’ve spent closer to an hour prebreathing in order to transition from high to low pressure.

He only gets a few minutes to adjust. When his allotted time expires, the second pair of doors slide open—the last partition between the inner and outer world—and Nikolai takes his first step towards the darkness of space.

You can’t watch after that. Instead, you hurry back to the cockpit, jaw so tight that it aches.

Graves looks up when you enter, but otherwise doesn’t say a word to you. Alex flashes you a brief, tense grin. The first couple of minutes of any space walk are always nerve wracking, despite the reassurance of preparation and all times before. There’s an inherent anxiety in seeing the human body go out into the cold vastness of space.

“Nikolai—you copy?” Graves asks through the transmitter.

The receiver crackles. “Loud and clear, boss,” he rumbles, accent thick even over radio waves.

A shadow of a smile flits over Graves’ face, the tension in the room briefly relieved. Even your shoulders lower at the sound of his voice.

“You sound better like this,” Graves teases. “Less nasally.”

“I’ll ask your mum the next time she calls,” Nikolai rebuts, a similar teasing sneer in his voice.

“Asshole,” Graves laughs, keeping his finger on the button the whole time.

The camaraderie would usually make your heart ache. Not today though. There’s no space for anything other than worry.

“Proceeding towards starboard,” Nikolai says, narrating his movements for the benefit of those on board.

There aren’t any cameras on the outside of the ship, meaning the crew can only communicate with the man via audio. On a newer spacecraft that might not be the case, but this ship is old, a relic of times past, her maiden voyage predating the addition of exterior cameras.

You wait in the cockpit with Alex and Graves while Nikolai repairs the panel outside, nerves shot. A half hour passes by without thought. You dig your nails into the palm of your hands and wait it out, each minute feeling eternal, elongated somehow. Every so often, the receiver crackles and Nikolai gives an update on his work. Each time, the crackle makes you flinch.

Despite the unease churning in your stomach, the amount of time isn’t suspect; you know he has to disconnect and remove the damaged panel section before installing a replacement panel.

Yet, you can’t quite shake the nausea building in your stomach. The way it cramps and flutters.

At some point during the wait, Farah slips into the room, and you only notice her when you twist your head from side to side to stretch out the muscles in your neck and find her leaning against the wall next to the door, arms crossed tight over her chest.

For someone who has most certainly monitored and participated on spacewalks before, you’re surprised to find her just as anxious as you, albeit better at concealing it. You’d have thought of all people, she’d be the most comfortable. Instead, her eyes stare sightlessly at the flight deck window, finger tapping against her elbow; a nervous twitch.

The receiver crackles again. “Panel secure. Heading back n—”

Both Graves and Alex sit up straighter, staring down at the receiver as if anticipating the rest of the sentence. It never comes. You feel a sweat break on the back of your neck.

Graves presses a button. “Nikolai, we didn’t catch that. Say again.”

He’s met with a deeper, more prolonged silence.

“Nikolai?” Graves repeats into the mic, his voice broadcast over the intercom system throughout the ship. “Nikolai, do you copy?”

Silence. Nikolai’s transmitter crackles in response, as if his finger were on the button, but his voice never follows.

“Kolya?” Graves asks, and you can hear the sliver of desperation, the worry couched in professional concern. You’ve never heard him use that name before.

Another minute goes by without a response. The tension is thick in the air.

The sound of the door to the cockpit opening cuts through the air and you turn to watch as Farah leaves without a word. Again, puppyish, you follow after her. You’re not sure why. Her back is ramrod straight as she marches down the hall, tension rippling down her shoulders. She doesn’t acknowledge your presence as you make your way down the corridor together.

The two of you stare out the first porthole for some time before proceeding to the airlock further down the hall. No sign of Nikolai. Graves’ voice crackles over the intercom, keeping the crew dispersed throughout the ship abreast of any sign of Nikolai.

“I’m going out,” Farah abruptly announces, punching in the code for the second spacesuit locker.

“Huh?” you ask dumbly, watching as she rips the zipper down the length of the suit to open it and starts to tug it out of the locker.

“I’m going to check on him,” she repeats, enunciating each individual word as if you didn’t hear her the first time.

“Is that—is that a good idea? Shouldn’t you consult the commander before—”

It isn’t your place to question her, but an instinct deep inside of you says don’t go out there, don’t go out. What’s out there should stay out there.

“This is my job, doctor,” she cuts you off, finally wrenching the second suit out of the locker and jamming her leg into the lower torso component. “I don’t tell you how to do your job and you certainly don’t tell me how to do mine—”

Then, somehow, you both see it at the same time. A hand pressed flat to the airlock window, the fingers spread wide. The body attached to it must still be hanging off the side of the ship because you don’t see the rest of him, just a palm open wide on the far edge of the window. And though Farah breathes thank fuck, Kolya under her breath—the most relieved you’ve ever heard her—your stomach cramps and your palms grow clammy.

The spacesuit she’d been about to step into falls to the floor in a heap. From the corner of your eye, you see Farah reach for the airlock lever to open the door, and your hand instinctively goes up as well, your fingers closing around her wrist to hold her in place.

“Wait.” It’s your voice but not your voice. It’s your fingers around her wrist though, staying her hand. It’s your stomach cramped up in a Gordian knot, bile at the back of your throat because this is wrong, this is wrong, this is wrong.

She wrenches her wrist out of your grasp with more strength than you anticipated, pulling down the lever in the next breath. The look she sends you as the exterior door slides open is scathing.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she snaps, her repressed fury coming to life. You can feel it now coming off her in waves—the days of doubt and mistrust, so unsettled by your actions to the point that now she snarls at you without a second thought.

Your lips part but nothing comes out. No way to explain yourself, just the gut feeling of something terribly wrong.

All you can do is watch as the first set of doors open to the blackness of space, your body frozen where you stand, heart in your throat. The hand briefly disappears from the window just to reappear a second later, gripping the side of the door to haul himself inside. His movements are slow and deliberate, hampered by the lack of gravity.

You notice the glaring issue almost immediately, but your throat is far too dry for you to speak. You wonder if Farah has noticed it as well. The man in the spacesuit taking his first step into the airlock is leaner than the man who left. Shorter too. Not the bear of a man that stepped out just an hour ago, but someone new. Someone that now flips the switch on the interior wall to shut the door behind him, which it does noiselessly.

“Farah,” you whisper uncertainly. She doesn’t respond. You wish you could turn your head to look at her, but you can’t rip your eyes off the man in the airlock.

You wait with baited breath for the airlock to repressurize the first chamber. It takes as long as it did to depressurize in the first place, an agonizing handful of minutes that you can only spend staring at the man standing in the middle of the chamber, his visor still tilted too low for you to make out his face.

But you know, don’t you?

With a door separating the two of you, the sound never actually reaches your ears, but you swear you can almost hear the hiss of his helmet unlocking. You’re sweating hard now, heart racing in your chest and still you blink twice, hoping that the man behind the glass will suddenly disappear or suddenly grow in size.

The man reaches two gloves hands up to twist the helmet out of its locked position and then slowly pulls it off, revealing a face that you’ve become familiar with these past few days. Dark skin and a high fade. A scar high on his cheekbone, the wound long healed.

“Farah,” you say again, and your voice cracks this time. Beside you, you hear her let out a shuddering breath.

Through the glass, he smiles at you, full lips pulling apart to expose a row of gleaming white teeth. He waves a thick-fingered, gloved hand and mouths your name.

#ceil writing #cod x reader #gaz x reader #gaz x you #kyle garrick x reader #kyle garrick x you #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x you #gaz/reader

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