#Never trust anyone else with finding the right instructions

[prompt-of-the-day]

Dialogue: #009

"After the oven is done pre-heating at which temperature should we bake the cake?"

"Hmmm.... It doesn't say."

"And for how long are we supposed to bake it?"

"Well.... It doesn't say....."

"Then WHAT does it say?! Just where in the world did you find that kind of vague recipe?! Next time I'm bringing one of my own."

#daily prompt #writing prompts #dialogue prompt #Sadly based on real life #Never trust anyone else with finding the right instructions #Always double check #gender neutral mc #Bad recipe saga begins

[vikkirosko]

Battle of dads!

Can I request Adam from hazbin hotel having a dad Battle (like the song between Alastor and Lucifer) with Alastor, Vox, Lucifer (separately) and a battle of mom between Lute and Vaggie ?

They fight over reader who is a little girl (9 years old) who's mother is more inclined to dark arts and her father to divine and religious powers.

The thing is, reader's parents are quite in a delicate situation each, and asked their contractor (the demon on the mother side and the angels to the father side) to protect and take care of their daughter. The only problem is that both sides have the same mission and will not let this child be with the opposite side.

Thanks!

Platonic headcanons Battle of parents

❌ Vaggie x child fem!Reader x Lute 🗡

Vaggie felt a little awkward when she had to interact with children, and when you were under her care, she realized that she did not fully know what to do. You were a nine-year-old living girl, but because of your mom, you lived in Hell, under the supervision of Vaggie. Your mother was connected to the dark forces and, being in danger, asked her to look after you. You weren't a problem child, but Hell wasn't the right place for kids. Vaggie understood that, but there was someone else who didn't want you to be in Hell

Lute wasn't thrilled that she had to take care of the baby, but she couldn't refuse your father's request to take care of you. She was going to take you to Heaven, but she didn't find you. She quickly found out where you were and was furious when she found out that you were under Vaggie's care. Lute wasn't going to leave it like that, so I decided to go and take you with me

Lute openly stated that she intended to take you away, to which Vaggie reacted aggressively. She knew what Lute was like and didn't want her ex-colleague to influence you and make you look like her. Lute wasn't going to stay with you among the sinners. She was sure she could take better care of you and give you a decent upbringing than anyone from Hell

They both had similar goals. They both wanted what was best for you, but they would never have been able to come to a consensus. There wasn't much you could do to influence them. All you had to do was watch Vaggie and Lute having arguments with each other

📻 Alastor x child fem!Reader x Adam ✨️

Adam was not the one who could be trusted with a child. However, he could not refuse the order that Sera had given him. That's why he went to take you to Heaven. Your father was somehow connected to Heaven, and your mother was connected to Hell. Sera didn't want you to get involved with demonic forces, so she instructed Adam to find you and take care of you. But, as it turned out, Adam was too late. Your mom managed to ask someone in Hell to take care of you. Adam intended to go to Hell to get you. It was a matter of principle

When he found you, he saw a nine-year-old girl who was being looked after by none other than Alastor. Radio demon was looking out for you, because you were his responsibility, and even when Adam showed up, saying that he would take you with him, Alastor wasn't going to let that happen

Adam would have been happy to put up a fight, but he couldn't do it ahead of time, and even more so he couldn't scare you. However, his rude words had already scared you and you were holding Alastor's hand tightly. Adam was aggressive towards Alastor, while Alastor was polite and did everything so that you wouldn't want to leave with Adam. He wasn't going to lose to him

Alastor and Adam openly confronted each other. They both had the goal of taking care of you and protecting you, but they had different methods. And it was all aimed at protecting you

🖥 Vox x child fem!Reader x Adam ✨️

Vox wasn't thrilled when you appeared in his life. You were a nine-year-old girl whose parents were connected to Heaven and Hell. It was your mom who asked Vox to help her and take care of you until she was sure that if you came back you would be safe. He looked out for you as much as he could, trying not to leave you with Valentino or Velvette, knowing that it could end badly. He even began to get used to you, but your peace was disturbed by the appearance of Adam

Your father, who had a connection with Heaven, asked Adam to take care of you. Adam was going to take you to Heaven, but he didn't find you. He found out that you were in Hell and went there to take you with him. He didn't care that Vox was one of the overlords, he just wanted to pick you up and go back to Heaven

If Adam had come earlier, Vox would have given you to him without hesitation, but now he realized that he couldn't do it. He has become attached to you and is already used to taking care of you. Vox was not going to give you to Adam, despite all his outrages and insults directed at the sinner

Both Vox and Adam had the same goal. They should have taken care of you instead of your parents. They understood that they would not be able to find a common language, so they intended to find out who you would stay with and you could not influence them in any way

🍎 Lucifer Morningstar x child fem!Reader x Adam ✨️

Lucifer wasn't sure if he would make a good father. He didn't spend much time with his daughter, and when your mother, connected to Hell, asked him to take care of you, her nine-year-old daughter, he became worried. He couldn't refuse her, so you ended up in his custody. Lucifer tried very hard to take good care of you. He was like a kind uncle to you, who gave you rubber ducklings and told you interesting stories

Your peaceful life was disrupted when Adam appeared to you. He came at the request of your father, who was connected with Heaven. Your father did not know that your mother had asked Lucifer for help, and now Adam intended to take you to Heaven, where, in his opinion, you would be better taken care of than in Hell

From the first seconds that Lucifer and Adam found themselves in the same room, they couldn't stop arguing with each other. Every time Adam said something rude, Lucifer stopped him, reminding him that you were a child and that you heard everything. They were fighting over you. Lucifer, who had become attached to you, did not want to give you to Adam, not believing that Adam would be able to take care of you, and Adam did not want to lose to Lucifer

They had a common goal, but they hadn't gotten along for years. Even you, their ward, couldn't improve their relationship. All you could do was watch Lucifer and Adam argue, trying to decide who would take care of you

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel headcanons #Adam x Reader #Lute #Lute x Reader #Adam #Vaggie #Vaggie x Reader #Alastor #Alastor x Reader #Vox #Vox x Reader #Lucifer Morningstar #Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

[thatfandomslut]

Janis's Ending

Janis's part two ending to It's a Competition.

Word Count: 1.2k

Trigger Warnings: descriptions of making out

Cady Heron wasn't the best at holding in information as she sat next to (Y/n) in their English class. As soon as the bell rang, the teacher instructed them to start on their writing assignment, but Cady couldn't focus on the work in front of her. This was something (Y/n) quickly came to realize as their desk began to shake with every bounce of Cady's knee. "What's wrong, Cady? You're making my 'r' turn into an 'm.'" (Y/n) said, placing a hand on Cady's shoulder to hopefully provide some aid in calming her down. However, Cady almost became more tense under (Y/n)'s touch.

"I need to know who you have a crush on." Cady blurted out, causing (Y/n)'s eyes to widen as she eyed Cady suspiciously. She sat there in silence, slowly retrieving her hand from her shoulder as she processed Cady's blunt request. "Okay, I know I kind of blurted that out, but I've been struggling to keep my thoughts on a few things to myself, but if you tell me who you like, I can focus better. Of course, I know that's personal and something you probably don't want to share, so don't feel forced."

(Y/n) bit her lip to hide her snicker over Cady's rambling as she cleared her throat in order to catch Cady's attention. She gave herself a moment under the strawberry blonde's watchful gaze as she considered the possibilities that might occur if she told the person she liked her feelings. "Okay, but don't laugh… I know that she'll never like me back." (Y/n) sucked in a breath as she looked around to make sure no one else was listening. Unlike Gretchen, she trusted Cady with a secret like this. "I like Janis. Which, I know, is crazy. She's so cool and always has an opinion on everything. I really admire how outspoken she is." (Y/n) sighed, resting her cheek on her fist.

Cady took a moment to let the information sink in as she examined (Y/n)'s face gently. She had never heard (Y/n) get so vulnerable with anyone before. A slow smile snuck up on her face as she nudged (Y/n) gently. "I think you're amazing and Janis would be lucky to have you in her life." She said softly, watching a small smile tug at the corner of (Y/n)'s lips. There was a brief moment of realization that Regina was sure to go into a frenzy, but Cady stuffed that fear away. "Maybe you could just talk to her. I know it sounds scary, but Janis appreciates bold people. Why not be bold?" She questioned as her eyebrows wiggled playfully.

(Y/n) tapped her knees gently as she looked over at Cady in thought. "I don't know," she hummed softly, glancing out the window for a moment. "I mean, Janis does seem like the person to like bold people, but I don't know if I'm bold enough to tell her how I feel. Very cowardly, I know." (Y/n) sighed softly, looking down at her paper that barely held anything on it. She was now too distracted to work on the prompt given to them by the teacher. Normally, she was good at writing prompts, but right now, with Janis on her mind, it was safe to say she wasn't sure how to proceed with her paper on 'What Does Love Mean To You?'

Cady knew it wasn't her place to tell Janis, but she did accidentally let it slide to Damian after English class when they were heading to meet with their resident artist.

"She what? Tell me exactly what she told you, Cady." Janis had her hands on Cady's shoulders as she looked deeply into her blue eyes. She was searching for any hint of a lie on the girl's features. She didn't want to find a lie, of course, but that's what she felt like she would find. "You have to tell me now, Cady. You didn't think Damian would just keep this information from me, did you? He's literally my best friend and the biggest gossip we know."

Janis was right, but Cady couldn't help but narrow her eyes at Damian briefly, even as he held his hands up as if to say he was innocent. Which he wasn't. "Fine, just loosen your grip on my shoulders." Cady winced as Janis sent a sheepish, apologetic grin and let go of her shoulders, offering them both a small rub when she did. "Thank you… She said she likes you and admires how you're outspoken. Speaking of outspoken, I think you should just talk to her. I was your middle man, I gave you the information, now it's your turn." Cady told Janis, crossing her arms gently as she looked over to where Regina, Gretchen, and Karen were waiting for her. "I have to go now." She said timidly as she walked off to meet with the Plastics.

"She's right," Damian spoke up with his signature smirk. Janis knew that Cady was right, too. She now just needed to figure out how she was going to ask (Y/n) out officially. That's when an idea began to formulate in her mind. Texting (Y/n) to meet her in the park, Janis decided she would ask (Y/n) out while teaching her how to skateboard. This was something she promised to do a couple of months back but hadn't had the chance to.

When the time came around, Janis smiled as she stood up from the picnic bench when she saw (Y/n). "Hey, stranger," she greeted as she held out a board for (Y/n). For a moment, (Y/n) looked confused before realizing what was going on. Janis watched a giant smile break out of (Y/n)'s face as she placed the skateboard down, trying to get on it. Janis helped her, taking her hands softly. "I remembered you wanted to learn, and I finally got the chance to teach you. You're going to want to kick gently. Lean forward to go left and lean backward to go right. We'll go slow." Janis said as (Y/n0's fingers laced between her own.

"Am I doing it right?" (Y/n) asked as she began to kick off, her knees wobbling as she tried to maintain her balance. Janis quickly stabilized her, causing her to grow confident as her knees stopped wobbling as much. "So, lean this way for left… and this way for right." (Y/n) tested it, the board slipping from under her. A small yelp escaped her lips as her eyes squeezed together, however; the fall she expected never came. Instead, she was carefully wrapped in Janis's arms.

Janis smiled down at her as she processed that she was no longer falling. She tried to thank Janis but nothing left her lips. Instead of her crashing and burning, her lips came crashing onto Janis's, who quickly reciprocated the kiss. Janis kept her in a solid grip as they kissed, (Y/n) gaining more of her balance as she wrapped her arms around Janis's neck. "I've been waiting a long time to do that," Janis said with a cheeky smile playing on her face.

"Me too," (Y/n) whispered a bit breathlessly. "We don't have to stop though." She added and the two reconnected once more.

By the end of the night, Janis had sent Damian and Cady a text that said 'Guess who has a girlfriend bitches?' The competition was won by Janis, not that she cared about it. She only cared that sitting right beside her, telling her about a new movie she saw in theaters, was her girlfriend.

[spidernuggets]

hi i’ve never sent a request before so i’m super nervous- but all i can think about this the combination of this trend https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8GtUCqV/ and jason todd

maybe something happens on patrol and jason doesn’t tell the reader, but not telling the reader what happens is a long bad habit he has, so reader finally leaves and jason breaks…

idk it’s up to your interpretation but i can’t see the trend without jason brain rot

Jason Todd x Reader

"Please- Please stay, I need you, oh God, please"

Jason was instructed to return to the Batcave to stitch up some injuries. But he was dizzy. His head was cloudy. He couldn't think straight. He couldn't stop looking at the blood on his hands.

Even when he spent 10 minutes scrubbing and washing them, he still couldn't stop looking at his hands.

"Are you feeling well, Master Todd?" Alfred asks, concern spread across his face as he prepared cleaning essentis for Jaso . Alfred didn't want to admit it, but he somewhat favoured Jason. He taught Jason patience, initiative, and even cooking. Even with their shared birthday, Alfred couldn't help but grow fond for Jason more than the other Batkids. But he'd never let anyone else know.

The question made Jason sniffle. Alfred paused from wiping the dried blood off Jason's shoulder.

"Master Todd?"

"She was 11, Alfred. She was just a child, and she died. I wasn't fast enough. I failed her," He whimpered. The kid he was talking about lived in Crime Alley, a few blocks down from where he used to grow up.

A new drug ring was rounding up kids in poverty, particularly those who lived around Crime Alley, to work in their establishment. But when Batman found out about this, their escape route was to blow up the evidence. Almost all the kids got out. But after a head count, Jason realised one person was missing.

That's when he heard an ear-piercing scream from. the building. He started to run towards the warehouse, but as soon as he reached the door, the whole building collapsed right in front of him.

But the fallen debris didn't stop him from going in. He had hope that the girl managed to survive, that somehow, a miracle occurred, and that she was able to avoid any severe injuries and cheat death.

But there was no mircale. Jason was slapped in the face with the harsh reality when he stumbled across the limp body that was contorted through wooden beams and metal pipes.

Jason's heart ached, his chest grew heavy, and his head throbbed.

He fell to his knees, cradling the girl's head in his hands as his sobs pierced the silence.

As Dick found him, he placed a hand to his shoulder. He promised Jason that she'd have a proper bed to rest in. A proper place to be in peace. They'd find the comfiest casket they could find and have her buried where wild, beautiful flowers grew.

The body was put into Dick's care as Jason didn't trust Bruce with the promises that Dick proposed.

As Alfred listened to Jason's cried, he knelt down beside him, forhead resting against his bicep and assured him that he did his best, and that the little girl still would've seen him as a hero.

Jason didn't know who the girl was. He doesn't know most of the kids in Crime Alley. But he knows what they're going through. He know the hard times they will face. So he sees them as family. He sees them as his family.

When Jason returned to your shared apartment, your head popped out from your bedroom door. You were excited to see Jason, but when you saw his exhausted, melancholic, and baggy eyes, you knew he was going through something again. You just didn't know what. But you wanted to know. You wanted to know so you could help him.

You jogged over to him, about to cup his face with your hands, but he raised his arm, stopping yours from going up any further.

"Not today, I- I just can't," He murmured, walking to your shared room. Your heart broke. You wished there was something you could do to help him. But this wasn't the first time he shrugged away your comfort.

Every breakdown, episode, and mental collapse he has after coming back from wherever he's out to, he ignores you, avoids eye contact, shuts you out. He never tells you why he's so depressed looking. All the times before, you asked why he won't talk to you, in which his response always remained "You wouldn't understand." He's always be less down the next morning.

But the sun's rays crack through your curtains, waking you up from your deep slumber. You see Jason's vare back facing you, his body at the edge of the bed. You believed he's in a better moor, so you decide to get up before him and whip uo some breakfast for him.

French toast always did it for him. For you too. It was the two of you's comfort food. It was warm, not too sweet, both crispy and soft. It was perfect.

So, while the battered bread laid in the pan, you began to cut the leaves off the strawberries. That's when you heard his heavy footsteps coming your way.

No matter what, when he wakes up, giving you a kiss on the forhead is the first thing he does. But when you go towards him to offer a hug, he swerves, walking towards the fridge.

Whatever happened last night must've taken a harsh toll on him. You lowered the fire on the stive and called out to him.

"Jay? Jay, what happened last night?" You softly ask. In response, Jason grunts, telling you it was nothing and that it was a really long night.

Then, you swutched off the stove completely to prevent your apartment from burning down.

"Bullshit," you say. Jason doesn't even turn to face you as he's pouring himself a glass of water. "Jason, you look exhausted. You look dead! What the hell happened last night that could've possibly made you this way??" You raised your voice. You couldn't help it. You were so worried for him, and he wasn't giving you any answers.

"Nothing fucking happened!" He yells. "Even if something did, it's none of your business because not a chance in hell would you understand!"

You stand there, staring at him in disbelief. "Jason." He pauses when you say his full name. It sounded unfamiliar. You haven’t called him 'Jason' in a long while. It's always been Jay or some pet name.

"I have always been by your side. I've been on your side when you've made the most dumb, impulsive decisions. But not once have I doubted you. But right now, it's- it's like you don't want me on your side. Like.. you just keep pushing me away with no answers. Jason, I'm never going to stop being on your side, but I can't do that if you just keep shutting me out." You're tired of trying to keeo uo with Jason's mysteries. You'd be lying if you said you didn't try to follow him to wherever he's always off to. But he always vanishes whenever you think you found the answers.

You went into your bedroom, grabbed a small bag, and shoved some clothes in it. Jason rushed behind you, leaning against the doorframe. His eyes are wide, and he's in disbelief.

"W-wait. What're you doing??" He asks, trying to catch his breath.

"I- I can't, Jason. Listen, we both need space right now. You're going through something and won't let me help, and I.. I just feel so useless right now, okay? I don't know.. We just need a break, alright?" You tiredly say, throwing your bag over your shoulder.

You were about to pass him, but he blocks the doorway, and unfortunately, his large frame is in the way of any possible chance of getting through.

"Jason, move," you say, almost getting annoyed.

Tears start to sting his eyes. "No, stop, please, I- I'm sorry, I-"

"Enough, Jason!" You cried. "Some separation will he best for the both of us!"

Jason's knees began to feel weak. His legs trembled, and slowly, he fell to his knees. Your eyes widen, surprised at this new action.

Jason takes your hands in his. "Please- Please stay, I need you, oh God, please," he says so quietly. He moves your hands to rest on his forhead, his eyes tight shut with tears dropping one by one.

Never have you seen Jason so vulnerable. "I'm sorry, please, I'l be better! I'll... I'll tell you everything! Every single detail, just please don't leave," he cries.

You tried so hard to be the one to call a break. But you guess you love Jason too much. "You promise, Jay?" You sighed. The nickname made Jason's heart race and his head shoot up to look at you. He nods rapidly.

"Yes, yes. I promise. I'll tell you everything. Just please don't leave me alone. And olease, please don't leave after I tell you," he begs. Your brows knit together, confused as to what he could mean. You nod, and Jason's breaths are stuttered as he gets up and you lead him to the bed.

And he completes his promises. From when he lived in Crime Alley to when he became Robin to when he died. When he became Red Hood to when he made a truce with Batman. And to when he failed to save the kid last night.

He told you everything.

And you just stared at him. No wonder Jason had always seemed so strong.

Tears continued to stream down Jason's cheeks as he looked straight forward, refusing to look at you.

"Jay," you called out to him, making him look at you. Your hands meet his cheeks, caressing them gently with your thumbs. "You've been through so much," you say sadly. You bring his head down to your shoulder, your lips lingering on his forhead. "I wish I could've been more so I could help you."

Jason shakes his head. "Don't say that," he barely whispers. "You are more. You're enough. You've helped me so much. I'm sorry I dragged you into this life. Maybe separation is the best for us," his voice cracks.

"No," you reply. "I promised I'd stay. I don't break my promises. And I'm not staying just because I promised you. I'm staying because I love you. Nothing's going to change that."

A sob escaped his throat as Jason buried his face further into your neck.

He always believed he was so selfish. Keeping you for himself while he has one of the most dangerous lives. He always believed you deserved better. But you stay.

For him.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #red hood #jason todd is my life #titans jason todd #dc titans #i love jason todd #jason todd titans #red hood x reader #jason todd headcanon

[dreamfyrie]

Painting the Prince

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

You had begged Aemond to let you paint him, and after weeks of pouting, he finally gave in. He wanted to wear his eyepatch in the portrait, but you insisted that he was beautiful and somehow convinced him to take it off.

"Aemond, trust me, you’re going to love it."

He never believed anything less in his life. It sounded more unrealistic than when his mother would tell him he’d have a dragon someday. Except he knew this was even less likely.

One of his biggest weaknesses was never being able to say no to you. As soon as you asked to paint him, he knew he was going to eventually say yes. He just held out hope that you'd forget about it and start fixating on something else. You didn't. He hated and loved how stubborn you were.

You wanted to paint him in the garden, but he didn’t want anyone passing by to see him, so you settled for your chambers. It felt more intimate this way, and you didn’t mind, you were grateful he was letting you do this and wanted him to be comfortable. Neither of you ever planned on showing the painting to anyone anyway, it was just for you.

"Alright, so sit right there and don't move," you instructed him.

You took your time mixing your paint to get the blue for his sapphire just right, you wanted the portrait to be perfect.

Aemond sat there obediently, not moving a muscle, watching how beautiful you looked with your eyebrows knit together in concentration. Your hands moved so gracefully when you mixed the colors together and began your brushstrokes. He'd seen you paint dozens of times, but being on the receiving end of it felt different.

He hated that painting him involved so much staring. You were probably noticing every imperfection on him and wondering why you wanted to do this in the first place. Aemond wanted to get up and check what it looked like. He didn’t want to wait until you were done and see that he sat there for hours just for you to make him look like a scarred monster.

You were so happy that you were finally getting to paint him, you would’ve stopped immediately if you knew how he was actually feeling.

Aemond saw you starting to paint the canvas less and less. "Are you almost done?"

"You can't rush greatness, stop moving."

It felt like an eternity, and he was relieved when you were finally finished. He walked over to you hesitantly while you stood there with your hands clasped to your chest, giving him the sweetest smile.

You stood to the side of him, waiting for his reaction. You had never cared more about an opinion on a painting than you did about this one. If he hated it, you'd probably throw yourself out of a tower.

Never would he have imagined that he was capable of looking handsome, but you somehow made it possible. He stared at the portrait, mesmerized by your work. Sometimes he forgot how talented you were at everything.

Aemond felt an emotion so deep in his chest that it hurt. He felt love. He didn’t know how he managed to find someone who was able to always make him feel at ease with his appearance. He needed constant reassurance, but you never complained. If that's what it took, you'd spend every day reminding him how beautiful he was.

You could tell by the look on Aemond's face that he was content with your art, and you felt proud that he was finally getting to see himself the way you saw him.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fluff #hotd x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x you

[kp-alice]

size kink with mingyu ?

Hi! I'm guessing you're sending this for my ongoing sub!svt event, but please read the instructions again!! I'm writing about who would be into certain kinks, not about specific member-kink combinations people send me!!

I'll accept it this time, though, because I like discussing this specific kink anyway, lol. Enjoy!

Oh and lastly - two of these automatically assume you're smaller/shorter than the member in question, mainly because I'm not sure how many people out here are noticeably bigger than them, haha. The rest can go either way, though! Hope that's okay.

SIZE KINK WITH SUB!SEVENTEEN

Okay, I admit, I agree with you on who'd take first place for this kink. There's just no way it isn't Mingyu, lol. Anyone who's watched this man for at least a little bit (and noticed his suspicious tendency of dropping to his knees and generally making himself appear smaller) can easily see that size kink is absolute Mingyu territory. He already pegs me as the type to want someone who can toss him around a bit, but having said person be considerably smaller/weaker/both than him?? That's Mingyu's heaven right there. Not only is the physical difference satisfying to look at, but it perfectly underlines the whole humiliation of being (very willingly) overpowered by someone else.

So please, take note of how adoringly he looks up at you whenever you have him on his knees, and make good use of it in the future. Laugh in his face as you push your foot down on his crotch, tug him down to your level by his hair when talking, restrain his hands with your smaller one and roam his broad chest to your heart's content - he'll love it just as much as you, if not more <3

For the most part, Wonwoo belongs here for the same reason as Mingyu. Like him, Wonwoo would love the deliciously embarrassing contrast between your sizes, especially when you're on top of him. He'd watch with curious yet meek eyes as you get comfortable in his lap, smoothing your gentle hands across the expanse of his chest, only to make him let out a startled pained noise as you scratch your nails all the way down, leaving a beautiful row of hot, red lines across his skin.

However, that's not the only reason he'd like your smaller size. Because besides the purely sexual, almost masochistic appeal of it, the difference is also kind of comforting for Wonwoo. Knowing that he's willingly letting you take over, yet could actually break free from you if he tried, makes him subconsciously feel more comfortable and calm. It's not like he doesn't trust you, of course not! It's just that the softness of your size would help him ease into a submissive headspace a lot easier, allowing him to be more vulnerable with you and finally let you pamper him without feeling bad about it. In a way, your presence evokes the softest side of Wonwoo, because when he sees you and your gentle frame, no matter how intense the scene is, he knows he's always safe with you.

Woozi can go both ways. If you're taller/bigger than him, he'll tend to fall into a more obedient and subservient, almost desperate-to-please subspace. Unlike in his daily life, he'd actually enjoy feeling small next to you because he knows you'll never make fun of him for it and cherish him just the way he is - and in return, you've earned his utmost loyalty and submission.

On the other hand, if you're shorter/smaller than him, Woozi will find himself feeling a lot softer and more peaceful around you. You don't look down on him like a lot of other people do (mainly physically, but in other ways as well), and that knowledge gives him a lot of unspoken comfort. With you, he can become as small and vulnerable as he wants without fearing any judgment from you.

Either way, the size difference between you and Woozi is mainly a thing of comfort for him and he cherishes it dearly <3

Lastly, I also feel like Seungcheol might enjoy the size difference, though definitely not as strongly as the others. With him, it's more so just one day noticing how small/big you look on top of him and going "Huh, neat." in his head before moving on. In other words, for him, it's more of an appreciation than a kink per se, lol.

Thank you for reading! And remember, feedback is always appreciated! ♥  

#sub!seventeen #sub!svt #seventeen smut #seventeen reactions #seventeen reaction #seventeen headcanon #seventeen headcanons #seventeen x reader #sub!mingyu #sub!wonwoo #sub!seungcheol #sub!woozi

[cookies-and-music]

The Scam of a Lifetime.

Aleksander was tired.

Centuries of feigned deaths and new identities had worn him down.

Every day, upon waking, his mind chose a reason why existence was no longer bearable, and he spent the day brooding over it.

That day, it was about the King. Each time the king died, Aleksander had to gain the trust of the new one, prove his worth, and bow to people he could crush with a fingertip.

It had to end.

And it would end with her.

He approached her after the show. In centuries, Aleksander had seen many good actors, but none as skilled as the girl before him. Anya was young, around 16, with brown hair and light eyes. The only thing special about her was the uncanny resemblance to the Queen. It seemed that fate had spared him.

'Let's see if I understand, General Krignan.'

'Kirigan,' he corrected.

'Kirigan,' she echoed. 'Are you telling me that there existed a second daughter of the tsars, unknown to anyone, who disappeared right after birth, and the king is looking for her?'

'Correct.'

 'It seems crazy,' she crossed her arms, leaning on the back of the chair. 'But then, why is he looking for her, after all these years?'

'He is very ill,' Aleksander began.

'The tsar is dying?' the girl widened her eyes.

'Remember that everything we say is confidential, Miss Anya,' he said with a slight undertone of threat, and she nodded. 'The tsar claims that the disappearance of the second daughter is his greatest regret, and he cannot die peacefully until he finds her.'

She seemed to reflect on it for a while; Aleksander could see the gears in her brain turning. When she finished, she raised an eyebrow. 'So, I should go there, give him the farewell kiss, and then what?'

'Then you would retire to the quiet life you know and prefer, in a villa located in the countryside far from Os Alta, with more money than you can count, never worring about working ever again.'

Anya sensed it, the smell of bullshit. 'And what do you gain?'

'A peaceful passing for my beloved sovereign.'

The coldness with which he said it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand.

She took a second to think about it, but even if she knew he would gain something, Anya thought she didn't care much, as long as she came out of it alive. And rich. Terribly rich.

[][][]

During the carriage journey to Os Alta, Kirigan instructed Anya on everything she could say and, above all, what she shouldn't say. The lost princess Katarina had grown up in an orphanage on the border of Shu territory, never knowing who her parents were. When she was old enough to leave, she became a seamstress. They met in a shop where she worked and sold him gloves.

'But I don't know how to sew,' Anya had objected.

'You'll learn along the way,' Kirigan had replied without looking up from his lunch.

Anya had raised an eyebrow but didn't comment.

Apart from that, the journey was mostly silent and terribly boring. The black carriage they traveled in had dark curtains that prevented them from seeing outside, making it difficult to distinguish morning from evening.

For three days, the General was her only company, as he had forbidden her to talk to anyone else to maintain secrecy.

Just beyond the gates of Os Alta, the terrible silence surrounding the carriage was broken by the chaos from outside. Intrigued by the commotion, Anya reached a hand toward the curtain and pulled it slightly.

Outside, an adoring crowd had gathered around the carriage. They threw flowers and shouted, 'Glory to the tsar, glory to Ravka.'

'I didn't know you were so loved, General,' Anya turned to Kirigan, who, with his dark and heavy clothes and long legs, seemed to take up all the space in front of her.

Kirigan moved a flap of the curtain with a finger.

'They're not cheering for me, Miss Anya.'

The girl looked confused, and he handed her a newspaper he had next to him.

'What am I supposed to do with this?' Anya waved it.

'Usually, people read newspapers, Miss Anya.'

She clenched her jaw, swallowing. 'The. P- Prin-cess. Princess.'

Aleksander furrowed his brow. 'Miss Anya... you can read, right?'

'Of course!' Anya seemed almost offended. 'I just don't like it that much.'

Aleksander almost laughed as he watched her straighten up and furrow her brows as if facing an indecipherable puzzle. 'The princess re-tu-returns ho-me.' Anya tossed the newspaper on the cushion beside her. 'I don't understand,' she sighed, looking at Kirigan.

‘They’re here for you, Princess Katarina.' He gave her a half-smile, and Anya's jaw dropped.

'I had never received applause before the performance.'

Aleksander almost laughed.

Around an hour later, the carriage stopped.

'Well, Miss Anya, the show is about to begin.' Aleksander opened a door and stepped out before reaching his hand inside to help Anya get down. As her eyes adjusted to the outside light, Aleksander took her arm and crossed it with his. For a moment, Anya was surprised by such chivalry until she realized that the proximity was necessary only to ensure that no one heard him when he whispered, 'And know that if you back out, no corner will be dark enough to hide you from me, Miss Anya.'

#fanfic #aleksander morozova x oc #aleksander morozova x reader #aleksander morozova #the darkling x reader #the darkling x oc #the darkling #shadow and bone #grishaverse

[nirvanawrites111]

Amnesia (Ten Lee x Dom!Reader)

Pairing: Ten Lee x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1991

Warning: Pegging, rimjob, degradation, femdom, mention of killing, fem pronouns, he refers to you as mistress, oral (male rec).

Your landline phone rings two times, and then it stops. You turn over and look at your nightstand in the dark. The glow from your iPhone tells you everything you need to know.

You sit up in the middle of the bed and take a deep breath. These calls are few and far between, but you know it's him.

You move to the edge of the bed and place your foot against the cold wooden floor. Your feet move along, trying to locate your slippers. You slip into your furry slippers. You walk into your living room and turn on the hallway light. You go to your front door and open it.

His hair is disheveled but much longer than before. The last time you saw him, it was a short pixie cut, but now it has length. He doesn't speak, but you grab his hand to usher him into your apartment. You close the door behind him.

You can see the darkness in his eyes. You know that he's seen things in those streets that he frequents, but he doesn't have to explain anything. You are here for him.

You peel off his jacket, and he lets out a deep sigh. You know he can't share his life with anyone else other you. No one else understands Ten in the way that you do.

You place his jacket on your couch. You walk back over to him and remove his clothes layer by layer. A ritual that you two are used to by now. He stands before you, vulnerable. You kiss his forehead.

"It's okay. You are safe, now."

"But, I did bad things, tonight."

"I'm sure for the right reasons."

You look into his eyes again. You know he wants to say so much more, and you will give him the space to do so if he feels he needs to.

"I need you, Y/n," his confession is raw, but he's stern in the way that he professes for you.

A rush runs through you. You wouldn't acknowledge it to anyone, but you enjoy being needed by Ten Lee. The most misunderstood, mysterious man in the city, needs you. He doesn't even trust his own brothers, but he trusts you.

"Shall I draw you a bath, Tennie?"

His eyes light up a bit. You can see the glimmer in his eyes even if he doesn't smile. "Yes, please."

"Let's go."

You head down the hall to your guest bathroom and turn on the bathtub. You go back into your linen closet and grab your herbal mix that you prepare for him for nights like these. You pour the entire container into the bathtub.

Ten watches you prepare things for him. Never has he met a woman so understanding as you. A woman with such an enchanting spirit that helps him cleanse away his sins from the hard life that he's been dealt.

He admires you as you get on your knees to light the candles around the bathtub. He knows that your methods keep him safe.

If he could, he would leave WayV and run away with you. Live on a country farm somewhere where there are more cows than people. He would change his name so that no one could find him. He would live happily ever after with you.

But, that's just not his reality. He's good at what he does... according to his brothers, he's the best. So, how can he leave this line of work when it's all he knows how to do?

"Alright," you reply.

Ten stares into your eyes and admires your full thick hair that is so beautiful. How can a man with so much darkness attached to him be allowed to be in the presence of a goddess like you?

"You can get in now. It's ready," you instruct him.

Ten nods without hesitation. He climbs into the bath, and it's perfect. Not too hot, but not too cold. He eases into the warmth of the herbal water, and it feels incredible.

"I'll give you a moment."

"No," Ten shakes his head, and abruptly tells you. "I.." he stares into the water and then backs up at you. "I want you to sit with me."

Typically, he isn't this needy for you during his bath. He usually prefers to be submerged in his thoughts to process his night. But, tonight, he's singing a different tune, and you're okay with it.

"That's fine, baby."

You sit down on the toilet next to the bathtub, and he leans back against the headrest.

"I want to get out of this lifestyle, Y/n."

"I know."

"I can't be a killer for the rest of my life."

"I understand. But, you avenge those who are most vulnerable. Taking out the ones who need to be taken out."

"It's easy to look at it that way. But, why did I have to be born into this family? I just want a normal life."

"I'm sure, we all want to live a normal life. But, that's just not how life works."

"Yeah, but.. I want to be able to get married one day. Have children. Have a spouse."

"I'm sure your spouse would be understanding of you."

"It's not about being understanding. I don't want to put anyone at risk. If I lost the people I love because of my lifestyle, I wouldn't be able to live."

"I hear you. You are so thoughtful. I wish you could see yourself the way I do. You're more than your job."

"Nah. I'm a killer, nothing more, nothing less."

"Well, I can't change your perspective. But, you are amazing at what you do. Please don't beat yourself up over it. If you really want to leave, then do it."

"I'm thinking about it. But, I want to indulge with you after my bath."

"Okay."

***

You sit in your guest bedroom on the couch with everything ready for him. The only light in the room is the red LED lights. You sip a glass of water.

Ten comes into the room, and you sit up. He kneels between your thighs. "May, I suck you off, mistress?"

"Yes."

Ten doesn't waste any time sucking your strap. You grab the back of his head and push him further down on it. He doesn't gag at all, because you have trained him so well.

Ten works his beautiful mouth on your strap, and you start fucking his mouth. You tug at his hair while you drill deep inside his mouth.

"Got damn.. such a good little slut," You degrade him in the way that he craves. You know exactly what he needs when he needs it.

"I'm leaking.." He takes your strap out of his mouth.

"May, I please stroke it?"

"No, not yet."

"Mistress.. please."

You stand up and shove yourself back into his mouth. "So, needy. But, you are not understanding who is in charge here."

You pound into his mouth more brutally this time, and he takes it perfectly, just like the little whore he is. You look down at him. His eyes are connected to yours—there is just something so special about him on his knees for you.

"Do you want to get fucked or Nah?"

"Mmm.." he mouths around your strap and sucks you in deeper.

You caress his head to make sure you are still gentle with him. The last thing you want to do is hurt him.

"Get on all fours on the bed," you command.

Ten jets over to the bed and assumes the position you requested. You stand there and watch him on his hands and knees for you.

He's so beautiful like this. You grab your lube and toss it on the bed.

"May I taste you?" You stand behind him against the bed.

"Yes, mistress."

You lick around his hole and tease him a bit. You don't dive in just yet.

"Yesss," Ten moans out. You love the way he whimpers for you.

He gives you the motivation you need. You swirl around his center again, and you reach down to stroke him while you tease him.

His whimpering is louder now. It has you wet with excitement. You can feel a bit of your own wetness drip down your legs. You love pleasing him. You actually get off on it.

"You like this, baby?" you ask. Already know the obvious answer, but you want to hear some verbal confirmation to make sure he's enjoying this just as much as you are.

"Yes.. mistress. Yes, feels soo... uh.. good," Ten is panting for you at this point.

You stick your tongue into him and drill your tongue into him deeper. You slap his ass hard and hold his waist while you eat him out.

"Fuck... please let me cum. Mistress."

You pull out of him and turn him on his back. You put his legs on your shoulder and return to eating his ass.

"Stroke it while I eat it. But, don't cum until I tell you," you instruct him.

You can't see his face, but you can feel his body shake from how your tongue destroys him. You love tasting him.

You move up and push his legs back to his ears. You hold his legs up while you start sucking him. "You can cum now."

Ten, lets go and release his load into your mouth. You enjoy the salty taste of his release inside your mouth. You swallow all of it.

Ten legs are still trembling for you. You grab the lube off the bed. "You ready to get fucked?"

"Yes, please. Fuck me. Ruin me, mistress."

You run your finger across his juicy bottom lip. "Don't worry. I got you."

You get on your knees and lean back a bit. You lube up your strap-on. You put some on your fingers and get him ready.

You spread his legs and slip into them inch by inch. "You ready?" you ask.

"Yes, mistress," you see the smirk on his face.

You drill into him because he can take it. You watch him bite his bottom lip while you work your hips into him.

He pants for you and turns you on even more. You love to see his spread out across the bed like this and only for you. He doesn't have to worry about judgment when he comes home to you.

"You love it?" you ask.

"Always."

"You better."

"I always love being ruined by you."

You pull out of him. "Get on all fours."

Ten does exactly what you say, and without skipping a beat, you dive into him from behind. You drill harder into his ass.

You love his flexibility, and you grab his hands to pull them behind you while you fuck him. You pound harder into him. "I want you to cum all over the bed without touching your dick."

"Mmm.. is that a challenge, mistress?"

"Nope. It's a demand. Now take this dick like a good little slut and shut up," you voice to him.  You drill even harder into him.

You know that he can come without touching it. You know his body pretty well.

He arches his back, and you slow down your stroke. This time you are pounding into him, but not as fast.

"Shit.. yes, just like that, Mistress."

You continue your pacing with him and work your body into his.

He releases just like you requested. His body trembles for you, and you let him ride it out. You let go out of his hand and slide out of him.

He leans forward onto the bed, and you lay on him. You kiss him on his back. "You did so good, baby."

"Thank you, mistress."

"I knew you could do it. Now, let's go to bed."

It's just something about pounding his ass and hearing him scream for you that sends you over the edge every time.

#ten lee x reader #ten lee #chittaphon nct #ten nct #wayv nct #sub!ten #sub! idol #sub!idol #sub!kpop #dom! reader #dom!y/n #sub!nct #sub!wayv #sub!tenlee x reader #kpop ambw #ambw smut #nct ten x reader #ten x reader #sub!idol x reader

[itsgoghtime]

Proton Mishaps

CW : little bit of angst, most of it is hurt/comfort, tooth rotting fluff (but that’s just a given with Ray), reader gets hurt, Ray is a teeny tiny bit ooc for a second, this has no clear place on the timeline

Words : 3285

"Man, we're at a quarter of a tank - who used it last and didn't fill up the tank?" Peter craned his neck back to look at the rest of us and saw the guilty look on my face.

"That one's on me, Peter. Sorry about that." I blushed with embarrassment.

Before Peter could remark anything else, Ray spoke up, putting his arm around me. "Anyone could have filled the tank at any time, Peter. Cut her some slack."

"You're right. Sorry about that."

"It's alright, Peter. It's been a long week."

We stopped at a gas station, and Ray got out to go and pay the person at the counter so we could get gas. I watched, his bright smile always seeming to be so entrancing to me, and saw how the girl at the counter smiled.

It shouldn't have hurt - Ray and I had officially decided to start dating just a few months ago, and besides the fact that I trusted him with my heart, I trusted him with my life.

But after Peter nearly snapping at me - and with how the rest of the week had gone, really - I felt a little insecure in the moment. I became acutely aware in the moment that there were literally millions of other girls Ray could have chosen to go out with - who were obsessed with the tabloids on the Ghostbusters and wanted to know who they really were. Yes, we had some history together, but history doesn't always guarantee a secure relationship.

My train wreck of thoughts were interrupted suddenly by the man who they were so occupied with - and the fears dissipated as I looked into those heterochromatic eyes. Ray walked out of the main store holding a bottle of something, his contagious smile somehow brightening even more when we made eye contact. It was always in his eyes that he spoke the most.

"Hey - I found that lemonade you told me you loved that you can never find - they sell it at this gas station!"

I smiled, scooting over on the seat as he climbed back in, putting his arm back around me.

"Don't beat yourself up, okay?" He kissed my forehead, and I leaned into his touch.

We soon arrived at the park, parking by the utility building and the hunt began. The PKE meter led the way until we had the specter in sight, and began to set up to make this bust an easy one.

I didn't quite know how to help - everyone had their thing they were doing, and I just stood there with the proton pack on.

Ray finished what he was doing, making his way over to me. He explained how the proton pack works, showing me the switch on the gun that monitored the blast stream and how much power it had. He showed me how to hold the gun, how to turn the stream on and off, and how to hold the ghost when I hit it with the stream.

"And remember, don't cross the streams." Winston reminded me.

"You'll do great - try not to be too nervous." Ray kissed my forehead again, as I glued my gaze to the ghost just 100 feet out.

"Alright, let's bust this sucker and go home. I don't want to be out too late." Peter said, giving me a smile as he motioned for us to go forward.

Peter and Winston took their positions as I took mine, and they started their streams and I attempted to do the same. The gun wasn't working - I did it exactly as Ray had instructed, pushing the button and pulling the switch, but it wasn't going off.

"Hey friend, can you give us a stream? We're struggling with him just a little bit."

"I'm trying, Peter. It's not going off."

"Are you sure you've got it on? Is the..."

"Yes, Winston, I'm sure it's right. It's just not working..."

Within just a few seconds, their broken focus led to the ghost coming free from the streams, and coming straight for me. It felt like time moved in slow motion, as it went straight through me, leaving slime everywhere, and knocking me over.

Of course, it was at this moment that the proton pack decided to function, sending a stream that nearly missed Peter and Winston and Ray, freaking them out. The looks on their faces - specifically Ray's - I was sure would haunt me forever. Sheer panic, fear, and frustration was all I could see.

They reacted as fast as they could, recapturing the ghost with the streams as Ray scrambled to get the trap down and open. He did, the ghost got in, and they all just stood there for a moment.

I could hear the three of them arguing about who's fault it was and how I just wasn't using the proton pack right and that I shouldn't have come on the call at all, putting them in danger with the random stream like that. Ray was trying to calm them down, telling them I had used it the right way and there was probably just a malfunction. I could hear the frustration in his voice though, remembering his expression when the stream had gone off.

I felt like a failure.

After I stood, their conversation ceased as I refused to make eye contact with any of them. They watched as I turned the pack off, and I handed Peter the container with the slime I had collected off the suit.

"You don't have to touch the slime with this sample, you're welcome." I mumbled, walking straight past them back to the Ecto-1.

Ray watched me worriedly as Peter and Winston really began to realize it had been a malfunction, and then realizing how awful I probably felt about it. I could feel their gazes on me as I went to get ready to go home.

I took off the proton pack slowly - having had help from Ray before made it faster. I was also afraid of screwing anything else up, which added to my snails pace. I felt awful - not only because I had put my friends in danger, but also because I was covered in slime.

As I put the proton pack in its place, the gun turned on and beeped that it was ready for full stream. I thought to myself about how cruel of a joke it was - after I had already screwed up it decided to work. However, it also decided - as I was going to turn it off again and put it in its proper place - that it needed to exhibit a short blast that grazed my side.

Ray screamed, running to where I had fallen, cradling my face in his hands as he tried to keep me awake.

"Hey, it's gonna be okay, it's gonna be okay, stay awake for me, honey." Ray was going at a million miles a minute - and I took his cheeks in my hand.

I couldn't say anything, the pain soon arriving as the wound took full effect. Tears streamed down my cheeks as Ray continued to try and console us both.

"I'm sorry, Ray. I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault, hun. It's not your fault."

Peter and Winston rushed over, and suggested we get to the hospital.

I hissed as they moved me onto the floor in the back, the skin on the top of the burn was peeling and began to bleed when it was moved around.

Ray held me the entire way to the hospital, my head leaning up against his shoulder as he tried to keep me elevated. He rested his cheek against my head, gently stroking my hair.

The hospital was a rush - I couldn't remember most of it, because I was in so much pain. But the doctor said I was clear to go home that night, because it really just grazed my side. He bandaged me up, putting some ointment and such that would help it heal. He also gave more instructions that thankfully he had on a piece of paper because I just couldn't stay conscious - I was so tired.

We arrived at the firehouse, Ray and Winston helping me upstairs as Peter began to attempt to explain what had happened to Egon.

Ray helped me into bed, trying to see if I was comfortable - my unresponsiveness didn't help much but he promised to return as he followed a few minutes behind Winston back downstairs.

"Ray, you'd better come see this." Egon stated.

Ray walked over, looking through the parts of the proton pack and seeing what Egon had already begun to explain. There was a loose wire, a couple shorted fuses, and a part that had completely fried. He looked to Peter and Winston, who shared the same expression of worry. I had been using faulty equipment - and was probably lucky that nothing else more serious had happened.

They took the other proton packs, letting Janine know they wouldn't be doing any calls for a couple days to update the tech. There would be no doubt that they were all fixed before they went back out.

One by one, they came upstairs and showered, and went to sleep.

Ray was the last one up, and after changing into his pajamas, spooned up beside me, careful not to touch the bandaged area of my side.

We laid in silence for a few minutes, until I just couldn't keep it in anymore.

"I'm sorry, Ray."

"It wasn't your fault, my love. You don't need to beat yourself over the head with..."

"No, Ray. If I hadn't gone on the call, if I hadn't pestered you to let me go, if I hadn't..." I tried to catch my breath, tried to stop the tears.

"If it's anyone's fault, it's mine. I should have been more conscious of checking the packs after the calls. It's my fault that it malfunctioned on you."

"How were you supposed to know, Ray? It's new equipment, it's hard to tell."

He held me a little closer. "I think it was an accident on all accounts. Let's not do that again."

"No, let's not."

I felt him begin to run his fingers through my hair, something I knew was comforting to him.

"They didn't get it all."

"What?"

"They didn't get all the slime out of your hair at the hospital."

I chuckled slightly, as he picked the dried bits out of my hair. "Darn doctors, don't they know you have to use the stronger shampoo when you get slimed?"

Ray chuckled, kissing my ear. "You aren't going to go on calls, I've decided."

"I think I'm okay with that."

"No more proton packs for you."

"Ah, rude." I giggled.

We went silent again for a little while, as Ray continued to gently take the dried slime out.

"I'm glad you're okay. I mean, I know you're not okay, but I don't know what I would have done if something..." Rays breath caught in his throat.

"I'm here, Ray. I'm here." I smiled. "I wish I could see you but I can't roll over onto my side."

Within literal seconds, Ray had moved from behind me to the opposite side of the bed in front of me, gently pushing me to the other side as he climbed in.

In the dark room, I could barely make out his cute face, but it brought me more joy than I had really expected. His smile grew when he saw how happy I was to see him.

I played with his hair. "You didn't get any slime this run - I'm impressed, you usually have some."

He kissed me gently, trying - and failing - to hold back a smile as our foreheads met. "I think you need some rest hun - you're saying some crazy things."

I lightly smacked his arm. "I am not, Raymond! But I agree, I feel like I could pass out for a whole day with how everything went."

Ray kissed me once more, then rolling over so I could rest my head against his back and hug him from behind - one of our favorite ways to fall asleep.

—— a few weeks later ——

I was woken up by the sound of a light breeze - and upon seeing a ghost woman entering the room, sat straight up. She saw my reaction, hiding in the hallway. I tried to wake Ray, who was dead asleep on my chest even after I shook him, and I took a deep breath.

This was going to be up to me.

I rushed downstairs, giving the ghost the "I'm watching you" sign and grabbed the proton pack. My side hurt a little, and I was reminded of my mishap with it the last time. Pushing that feeling aside, I strapped it to my back and turned it on. I grabbed the nearest empty trap, and took another deep breath.

I'd do anything to protect the guys - especially Ray.

I made my way up the two flights of stairs, and came into the room as I saw the ghost hovering above Ray, attempting to mess with his trousers.

"No you don't, you transparent bitch." I said under my breath, turning the stream on and relaxing a little when it actually worked.

Of course, this was loud, and the ghost slimed me, but I got it in the open trap and I put a burn mark on the wall in the attempt to do so.

Ray woke up, getting out of bed and shouting with the rest of the guys.

"Hun, what do you think you're doing? You know we can't use the packs in the firehouse. And with your injury... you're not even allowed to use one! You've got to think more responsibly - why would you do something like that?"

I stood there, as the other guys just stood there, and they asked questions about how I was feeling - having seen the end of the ghost's actions before I trapped her.

"Ya know what Ray," I started, and the room went quiet. "If you want to do... that with a ghost lady, I'm going to leave you to it. I'll sleep on the couch tonight."

I didn't say anything after that, but took the trap downstairs and put it in the containment system. I tiredly discarded the empty trap near the desk, and climbed back up the now three flights of stairs.

The guys were all talking in the bedroom, and went quiet when I arrived. I didn't make eye contact with any of them, but continued to the bathroom after collecting Rays spare set of pajamas from the locker. I was going to shower, and get all the slime off. I knew that would help me at least feel a little better.

"Ray, you shouldn't have shouted at her like that." Winston said.

Ray hung his head. "I know. I feel awful."

"Do you even know what the ghost was doing?"

"No, I'm not even sure."

"She was..." Winston paused here, and Egon coughed a little bit.

"She was making moves on you, Ray. Your sweet little girlfriend had every right to be upset and want to stop it from happening." Peter chimed in.

Rays heart dropped. "You're serious?"

"Yeah, we caught a glimpse right before she trapped the ghost."

The shower in the bathroom started, and they all paused for a moment.

"You have some serious apologizing to do, Raymond. I think you really hurt her feelings." Egon stated.

Peter yawned, and ushered them all to bed. Ray wouldn't go, but took a seat outside the bathroom door.

I ended up taking a half an hour trying to get the slime out of my hair, but did end up succeeding - mostly, of course, because there's always a few flecks that escape.

I got into Ray's extra pajamas, and I practically drowned in how big they were on my short frame, smiling at his scent that emanated from them. I knew he was really probably just startled, but the lingering thought of his frustration remained.

I did feel bad too - but I had not only caught the ghost, but had also gotten over some of my fear of the proton packs. Truly, I had accomplished something tonight.

I exited the bathroom, smiling when I saw that Ray was asleep with his arms crossed in the chair right outside the door. I gently took his head in my hand, kissing his forehead as he smiled in his sleep. I helped him stand, surprised that he was still dead asleep, and put him back in bed, pulling the covers up to his shoulders. I left him with another kiss to his forehead, and went to the couch. I still wanted some time to think.

The couch was always the perfect place for nap time, so I laid down and hoped I'd just pass out. However, under my blanket, facing the back of the couch, I couldn't stop my mind from racing. My intrusive thoughts screamed that Ray didn't really care what the ghost was doing - screamed that he didn't care about his commitment to our relationship.

My conscience said otherwise - remembering who Ray had always been, and knowing he probably didn't completely understand what was going on, and that he was again, most likely startled by the sound of the proton pack.

I didn't notice the tears for a couple minutes, until they arrived on my arm. I sniffled, wiping my eyes on the sleeves of the shirt.

Stupid emotions.

Back in the bedroom, Ray woke up with a start, sitting straight up in bed. He couldn't recall falling asleep in bed, but brushed it aside to lay back down and rolled to his side to where I usually would be. I wasn't there, and he remembered the conversation, and that he had been in the chair. Then realizing I had probably helped him to bed and tucked him in, he slowly got out of bed.

Ray had to find me.

He didn't have to go far, and when he heard the sniffling from the couch, his heart dropped three floors.

I heard the footsteps, and not knowing who it was, got in control of my emotions and closed my eyes. Hopefully they'd just think I was sleeping, whoever they were. Secretly, I hoped it was Ray - I just wanted him to hold me.

My wish was granted, as his chin rested on the back of the couch, hand reaching down and cupping my face, wiping the tears away. I opened my eyes, and met his concerned look, tears on his own cheeks. I reached up and wiped his tears as he leaned into my touch, confirming my assumption that he was just startled and didn't want me getting hurt.

I opened the blanket behind me and motioned for him to come in, and he began to move. I expected him to come around the couch, but he began to climb over the back of the couch to slide in the space between me and the couch. I smiled, scooting closer to the edge so he'd have room.

I opened the blanket in front of me as his arms came around me and adjusted to get comfortable. Our foreheads met, and he pulled me to his lips. They were sleepy kisses, but they said enough about what we wanted to say but couldn't.

Soon enough, I had to pull apart to yawn, and Ray caught it, making us chuckle. I kissed him one last time, then rolled over with my back to his chest as he pulled me as close as he could. He kissed the top of my head, intertwining our fingers and fell asleep.

#ray #ray stantz #ray x reader #ray stantz x reader #ghostbusters #reader insert #oneshot #ghostbusters two #dan aykroyd #proton pack #proton mishaps

[depressedhouseplant]

🔞 Cops & Robbers 🔞

Chapter 8

Tags: Smut, mentions of torture, murder, & prostitution, significant age difference (roughly 20 yrs) between Eric & Felix

A/N: Here’s the much anticipated Eric / Felix crossover! Also I gave y’all a hint about The Mad King in one of the JFW posts. Think you can find it? 😈

“Felix what the fuck?” Eric stormed into the office and slammed the door behind him.

“Good morning to you, too,” the blond looked up at him.

“You tortured Younghoon and killed Chanhee? Are you nuts?” He demanded.

“Technically Jisung and Changbin killed Chanhee,” Felix replied. “But you are correct that I was party to torturing the cop.”

“Juyeon’s got Changbin locked in his basement right now and he won’t let him leave there in one piece,” Eric told him. “If he finds out that you ordered it then you’ll be dead before you hit the ground.”

“What makes you think I ordered it and I wasn’t carrying out someone else’s request?” Felix leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms.

“Since when do you take orders from anyone?” Eric asked.

“Was that a rhetorical question or do you want the actual answer?” The other man questioned.

“Don’t lie to me,” Eric glared.

“You have no idea who runs this city. Juyeon might think he’s in charge, but he’s not. There’s a layer to this that none of you realize. You think we popped up out of nowhere? We started making ourselves known because we were told to. You’ve known me long enough to know that,” Felix replied.

“That’s not an answer,” the younger man snapped.

“Sit down and I’ll tell you what I know. However, you’ll put a target on your own back in the process,” Felix told him. Eric sat and stared at the blond.

“Jisung got himself killed because he fucked up. Changbin is in Juyeon’s basement because he fucked up. I’m walking around freely and breathing because I can follow simple instructions. They were told to leave both of them alive and ignored a direct order. However, by killing Chanhee they gave us leverage against Younghoon. A person is far more inclined to talk when they’ve got a dead body in the room. I suspected he didn’t know anything, but since I like my head still attached to my neck, I did what I was told. We let him go and he went straight to Juyeon like we thought he would. Though I have to say I didn’t anticipate Juyeon being as loyal to Younghoon as he is,” Felix told him.

“Who the hell is ‘we’? You got a mouse in your pocket?” Eric demanded.

“Have they told you about The Mad King yet?” Felix leaned forward.

“He’s a story,” Eric replied.

“He’s very real and very powerful. He’s only seen when he wants to be seen,” the other man said.

“If he’s real, he has to be old,” Eric was skeptical.

“I don’t know his exact age, but he’s definitely in his 50s. If you make it to that age living the life we live, you’re either very lucky or very good. He’s very, very good,” Felix shrugged.

“Let’s say I believe that he’s real. Why?” Eric asked.

“What do you mean why?” Felix repeated.

“Why are you working for him? How did you meet him? What the hell is going on here?” Eric expounded.

“He approached me several years ago. I thought the same thing you did. It was a bunch of bullshit and he was some old guy cosplaying as a story that’s been around since most of us were toddlers. I wasn’t going to agree to work for him until he proved that he was who he said he was. I know you weren’t working for Juyeon at the time, but he was able to disrupt his business like I’d never seen before. He was able to evade Sunwoo’s searches for days, if not weeks. Juyeon only calls Sunwoo when his normal methods don’t work. I thought Sunwoo was unbeatable, but he proved me wrong. It was in my best interest as a small fish in a big pond to accept his offer. Once he decided he could trust us is when he started causing trouble for Juyeon again. You ended up in jail because that’s where he wanted you,” Felix explained.

“So why kidnap Younghoon and Chanhee?” Eric asked.

“That I don’t know. All I know is he wanted us to kidnap them and figure out what they knew through any means necessary. As I said, he only knows what he wants you to know and only sees what he wants you to see,” the blond answered.

“I should tell Juyeon all of this,” Eric said.

“And if you do then you’re not only risking your life, but their lives. Let him do what he wants to Changbin and keep your head down,” Felix advised.

“And if he asks?” The younger man continued.

“It’s up to you whether or not you tell him,” he replied.

“Are you really going to let him kill Changbin?” Eric asked.

“I doubt he will, but if he does then that’s on him,” Felix cocked his head.

“You really don’t give a shit about anyone, do you?” Eric scoffed.

“I give a shit about you. If I didn’t then we wouldn’t be having this conversation. You wouldn’t have even gotten through the door,” Felix told him.

“Would you save me if The Mad King tried to kill me?” Felix was silent. “That’s all I needed to know.”

Eric got up to leave and Felix reached out to grab his wrist.

“Let go,” he tried to jerk his arm away, but the other man only tightened his grip as he moved around the desk.

“I’ll protect you until I can’t,” he said.

“Yeah, sure,” Eric snorted.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Eric,” Felix pulled him closer and kissed him. Eric returned the kiss. Felix let go of Eric’s wrist, putting his hands on the younger man’s face. “You’re such a fucking idiot sometimes.”

“If I’m such an idiot why are you kissing me?” Eric breathed, pushing Felix into the chair and climbing into his lap.

“Because I’m an idiot,” Felix retorted. Eric ground his ass against Felix’s cock, eliciting a moan from the older man.

“You like that? When Juyeon’s pretty little errand boy makes you hard?” Eric’s lips brushed against Felix’s ear. His grip tightened on Eric’s waist.

“I like when Juyeon’s little errand boy does what he’s told,” Felix turned his head to look at Eric. His eyes were almost black with desire. It was how Eric liked him best - horny, angry, and completely his.

“What makes you think I’ll listen?” he asked, leaning back to unbutton Felix’s shirt.

“Because you want my dick,” the older man replied as he pulled Eric’s shirt over his head.

“And you want me on your cock so I guess we agree on that,” Eric smirked. He pinched one of Felix’s nipples hard causing his hips to buck.

“Goddammit Eric,” he huffed.

“Tell me how much you want me,” the younger man said.

“And if I don’t?” Felix weaved his fingers in Eric’s hair.

“I’ll leave,” he shrugged. Felix yanked his hair, snapping Eric’s head back so his throat was completely exposed.

“No, you won’t,” he bit down where Eric’s neck curved into his shoulder. Eric grunted, unable to scream because of the angle of his neck.

“Say it,” he gasped.

“Say what? You’re my vice? My competition’s pretty little errand boy is my forbidden pleasure? That I think of you when I’m fucking someone else?” Felix replied, releasing Eric’s hair. The two men watched each other for a moment - half clothed, hair askew, lips swollen - taking in Felix’s admission.

“You…think about me when you’re with someone else?” Eric swallowed hard.

“Ever since that first night,” Felix confirmed.

“That’s almost 3 years,” Eric said.

“Two years, ten months, and five days if you want to be specific,” the older man smirked.

“How much?” the younger man asked.

“I have to keep up appearances, but a lot less than I used to,” Eric didn’t like that Felix was being intentionally vague. “They’re both professionals before you assume I just stick my dick anywhere.”

“You think about me when you’re with a hooker?” Eric questioned.

“I think about you more than I care to admit,” Felix purposely dodged the question. Eric hated when he did that.

“I think about you a lot too,” Eric agreed. For the first time since Eric stormed in, Felix smiled a genuine smile. “I know I shouldn’t be here.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” Felix confirmed.

“And I shouldn’t be doing this,” Eric kissed him.

“No, you shouldn’t,” the older man breathed. “I shouldn’t want to fuck you so good that I’ll ruin you for anyone else.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” Eric ran his hands down Felix’s chest, tracing the outlines of his abs.

“Yet here we are,” Felix stated.

“Ruin me,” the words spilled out before Eric could stop them. Felix’s eyes darkened, if that was even possible, and smirked.

“Gladly,” he replied. “Up.”

Eric stood up, pulling Felix up with him.

“Take off your pants,” Felix breathed against Eric’s mouth as he kissed him again.

“Why don’t you do it yourself?” Eric nipped at Felix’s lower lip. The other man reached down between them, unbuttoning and unzipping Eric’s jeans. He pushed his underwear down, releasing Eric’s cock.

“Hard already for me I see,” he purred, stroking the younger man’s dick.

“Like you aren’t,” Eric squeezed Felix through his pants.

“The better to fuck you with, my dear,” the older man smirked. He nodded Eric over to the couch on the far side of the room. Eric kicked off his jeans and underwear as Felix fetched a bottle of lube from his desk.

“Has anyone figured out you keep that in there?” Eric asked.

“No one’s allowed in here without an invitation,” Felix replied as he removed the rest of his clothes.

“I came in without an invitation,” Eric pointed out.

“And look where that got you,” Felix pinned Eric’s hip against the couch, starting to work him open.

“You say that like I don’t want to be in this position,” the younger man wiggled his hips trying to get more of Felix’s fingers inside him.

“Why are you always so impatient?” Felix teased. He brushed against Eric’s prostate, eliciting a loud moan.

“Just my nature I guess,” Eric replied.

“Maybe I need to teach you some patience at some point,” Felix was four fingers deep in him, teasing his most sensitive spots every few strokes. Eric arched his back and whined. “But I like you like this too much. Needy, whiny, and wet.”

“I’m not -,” Eric protested. Felix pressed his finger in the slit and Eric’s cock oozed precome. “Okay, fine.”

“Of course I’m right,” Felix grinned. He withdrew his fingers, watching as Eric’s hole fluttered around nothing. “So pretty like this.”

“Hurry up,” the younger man grunted.

“I spoil you,” Felix kissed him as he finished stripping and lubed up his cock.

“I thought you were going to ruin me?” Eric looked up at him.

“Ruining you and spoiling you aren’t mutually exclusive,” Felix told him as he pushed into Eric. Eric reached over his head and held on to the arm of the couch. Felix planted one foot on the floor and began fucking into the younger man. “You’re mine.”

“Yours,” Eric whimpered.

“Will you say my name? When you’re being fucked by someone else? Will you think of me when someone else has their dick in you?” He taunted.

“No, only you. I belong to you,” Felix Lee was the last person Eric should be promising himself to. His duties as the courier allowed him to come and go with almost no supervision. No one would question why he was gone for protracted periods. No one questioned his loyalty either. He worked for Juyeon, but Felix owned him. The older man owned every part of him. Eric hated that about himself.

“Stop thinking,” Felix ordered. Eric snapped his attention back to the present.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“Don’t apologize, just focus on me,” Felix snapped his hips faster, creating an obscene slapping sound when they met Eric’s ass.

“Can they…” Eric began.

“No one can hear us right now,” Felix replied. “Why don’t you make some noise?”

He reached down and grabbed Eric’s cock, pressing hard against the slit. Eric grunted and tightened his grip on the couch.

“Louder,” the older man told him.

“Felix, please,” Eric moaned.

“Please what?” He looked down at the younger man.

“Please let me come,” he whined.

“What did I say? Needy, whiny, and wet,” Felix stopped the motion of his hips and swirled the precome around the tip of Eric’s cock. Eric was almost in tears as Felix played with him. With a well timed thrust, Felix sent Eric over the edge. He smiled as Eric thrashed and arched under him.

“Felix,” Eric reached up to touch the other man’s face when he finished.

“I know,” he replied, fucking into Eric as hard as the position would allow. He painted Eric’s insides white, emptying everything he had into his body. Felix fell on top of Eric when he finished. “Ruined?”

“Ruined,” Eric confirmed. They rested like that for a few minutes.

“I’m getting sticky,” Felix observed. He got up and wiped them both off. Come leaked out of Eric’s ass onto his thighs and the couch. “Guess I’ll need to get that cleaned.”

“You mean you don’t want your come all over the couch?” Eric teased as he got dressed.

“Not at the moment, no,” Felix replied. Then there was a loud knock on the door. Felix and Eric looked at each other.

“Under the desk,” Felix instructed. Eric nodded and practically dove under it.

“Come in,” Felix called as he sat back down.

“Mr Lee,” Eric thought he recognized the voice.

“Felix, please. You’re the cops?” Felix replied. Eric remembered hearing Younghoon and Juyeon talking about other cops.

“Yes, I’m Jeong Yunho and this is Choi Jongho,” he introduced.

“Have a seat,” Felix shifted in the chair. Eric pressed his back against the side of the desk and willed himself to stop sweating. Felix adjusted his legs, spreading them so Eric could see him getting hard again. A meeting with a pair of dirty cops couldn’t be making him horny again.

“I apologize for making you wait. I had an earlier appointment that went longer than expected,” Eric heard Felix above him.

Yeah, impromptu dick appointment, Eric thought.

“That’s fine. I know you’ve got two of your men missing,” it was a different voice this time.

“Is that why you’re here?” Felix asked. He adjusted his legs again, spreading them even wider. Eric reached up and carefully undid his belt and unzipped his pants. Did zippers always sound this loud? He bit his lip to stay quiet and managed to push Felix’s underwear down far enough to release his cock.

“I don’t suppose you know anything about that,” Felix said, his voice not betraying what was going on under the desk. Eric got on his knees and took the tip of Felix’s dick in his mouth. He’d never actually had Felix’s cock in his mouth before. He tasted better than Eric imagined. He wasn’t sure what exactly he’d imagined, but he was going to have a very hard time not sucking him off like it was his last dying act.

“We got a report of a body that might fit the description of one of them,” Yuhno said. Felix reached down and put his hand on the back of Eric’s head urging him to go further. Just as casually, Felix brought his hand back up knowing he’d given Eric the direction he needed.

“I heard the same thing, however I haven’t been able to confirm anything. Were you?” he replied. Eric steadied himself on Felix’s knees then swallowed him down completely. Felix didn’t react which under any other circumstance would have been insulting. Eric was determined to get him to react. He hollowed out his cheeks and began sucking on cock before pulling back to roll the tip around in his mouth. Felix shifted, but nothing that would be seen as unusual.

“We’ve been supervising a river search for the past few days, but we’re going to the morgue later today,” Jongho told him. Eric swallowed Felix down again and this time pressed his finger against Felix’s taint. His cock twitched in Eric’s mouth.

Perfect.

Eric pressed harder as he focused on the spot below the head. Felix’s thighs clenched under his grip. Eric tried to get his finger back to Felix’s hole, but couldn’t quite reach it with the way Felix was sitting. Sensing Eric’s frustration, Felix shifted again to allow Eric to press the pad of his finger against his entrance. Precome pooled in Eric’s mouth. He pushed the very tip of his finger into Felix’s hole. His thighs tensed again and his cock jerked in Eric’s mouth. Felix brushed his hand over the top of Eric’s head.

“A river search?” He repeated.

“For one of the missing police employees,” Yunho added.

“Did you find anything?” Felix asked. By this point, Eric was rutting his own hips against nothing as he pushed Felix toward his orgasm. With one final push of the first knuckle into Felix’s body, he came down Eric’s throat. Eric forced himself not to gag as come kept pouring into his mouth. He swallowed it until Felix finally finished and gently pushed Eric’s head onto his thigh. Eric tucked him back in and opened his own pants. He began fisting his own cock desperately.

“We did. We found Choi Chanhee,” Jongho told him.

“And Kim Younghoon?” Felix asked. Eric was biting his lip so hard he thought he might bleed. He desperately needed to come.

“We have reason to believe he’s still alive,” Yunho replied. Finally, Eric felt his balls start to tighten. He bit down hard on Felix’s thigh as he came all over the floor and his hand. Felix didn’t so much as twitch when Eric’s teeth sunk into his leg.

“I assume our mutual employer is aware of that?” Felix said.

“He is,” Jongho replied.

“Excellent. Anything else?” He asked.

“No,” they replied.

“Thank you for coming to visit personally. I appreciate it,” Felix told them. The silence went on a little too long.

“Right, yes, we’ll let you know when we find something,” Jongho said. Eric heard them get up and the door close. Felix rolled back the chair to look down at Eric.

“You are a menace,” he said.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy me sucking you off while you’re trying to hold a conversation,” Eric grinned up at him.

“Touché,” Felix sighed. “I meant what I said earlier. I’ll protect you until I can’t anymore,” Felix stroked Eric’s cheek with his thumb.

“How long is that?” Eric asked.

“As long as I’m alive,” Felix replied. Eric had definitely not expected that answer.

“Thank you,” Eric rested his head on Felix’s knee.

“Always,” the older man replied.

#minors dni #ateez fanfic #the boyz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #mafia au #the boyz smut #stray kids smut #Eric Sohn x Lee Felix #Eric x Felix

[masterjasper223]

Pussycat

{Note: Y/C/N = Your Cat's Name}

Eric stares at the creature in your arms as though he has never seen one before.

"Eric? Are you even listening?" you demand, waving your hand in front of his face.

"Yes," he says, rattling off the list of instructions you gave him, word for word. "I was just... surprised."

"Surprised?" you repeat, furrowing your brow. "What's there to be surprised about? I asked if you could watch my cat for a couple of nights, you said yes. What were you expecting?"

Eric clears his throat, avoiding your eyes and your cat's judgemental stare. After a moment, it dawns on you what he must have been thinking, and you give him a pitying look. "Really? Who uses the word 'cat' for--"

"Anyway, why the no-touching rule?" Eric says, backtracking, as he now actually considers the words he recited for you. Food, water, litter tray... The unexpected responsibility weighs heavily on him, but even he can see that it would send a pretty bad message if he were to back out now.

"I don't want you to hurt (Y/C/N)," you say, nuzzling the cat's head affectionately, before setting it down on the couch.

Now it's Eric's turn to look confused. "I touch you."

"Yeah, well, I'm expendable. My cat is much more important." Eric begged to differ, but you plough on before he can argue with you. "And correct me if I'm wrong, but you don't have much experience with cats."

Eric does not correct you.

"So? Will you do it?" you press, fiddling with the hem of your skirt. "Remember, you can't just delegate this to someone, or glamour anyone into doing it for you. It has to be you. I'm trusting you with this."

You wouldn't be asking Eric if you had any other choice. You moved to Shreveport to be closer to him, so you have no friends nearby, and you don't know anyone else you can trust with a precious animal life. While even you have to admit that it's a job well beneath an ancient vampire, you suppose you'll just have to find some way of making it up to him.

To his credit, Eric hesitates for only a fraction of a second before nodding. "Of course," he says, holding your gaze. "You have my word."

Your shoulders sag with relief.

**********************************************

The next few days are full of surprises for Eric Northman. There's a moment when he thinks your cat is dying, because it makes a noise like a jug of milk being shaken back and forth and seems to be choking. He whisks the poor creature off to the vet at super speed, only to learn what a furball looks like for the first time as it immediately spits one out onto the waiting room floor.

There's a moment when the cat stares at a distant corner of the room for so long and so intensely that Eric becomes convinced your place is haunted, until he casually mentions it to Pam on his way back to Fangtasia and she tells him that that's just something cats do.

There's a moment when he sets down his TruBlood to go take a call, only to return to find the cat standing right beside the bottle, paw tapping idly at the glass, wobbling it closer and closer to the table's edge, all while holding the vampire's gaze, as if it's daring him to stop it in time. He manages to, thanks to his vampire speed, but afterwards he can't help but wonder: can vampires glamour cats?

So, the following night, when the cat jumps up in front of the television, blocking his view, Eric decides to give it a try. Intensifying his stare, he starts to speak in that gravelly, hypnotising voice that tends to make humans weak at the knees.

"I want you to get down from there."

The cat stares back at him for a few moments, its eyes wide, as if it's entranced... and then it yawns and starts washing its face.

Eric turns off the TV with a huff.

Finally, the night before you are due to come home, there's a moment when the cat jumps onto Eric's lap while he's lounging in your living room and butts its head against his hand until he pets it.

His guilt at breaking one of your simple rules soon turns to amusement as he finds all of your cat's favourite petting spots in about half a minute, taking care to be twice as gentle with it as he is with you, because surely that's good enough. Something about the way the feline lifts its butt when he scratches the base of its tail reminds him of you, and he chuckles to himself at the discovery. Not that he's ever done that to you, exactly, but you're very responsive to his touch, be it fleeting finger contact as he passes you a drink, or the brushing of your legs when you sit down next to one another on your cosy two-seater.

The cat kneads his thigh for a few minutes before curling up into a ball. Its purrs and rapid heartbeat are strange to him, but very soothing, and he almost falls asleep on your couch, before he remembers that he has a business to run.

**********************************************

"Any problems?" you ask, as you try to pet your cat, who ducks under Eric's chair, out of your reach. It's been stubbornly avoiding you ever since you got back, likely annoyed at your absence.

Eric thinks of the furball, and the TruBlood, and the fact that he broke one of your rules... But all's well that ends well, so he just shrugs and says, "None at all."

"I really appreciate the help. Is there anything I can do to..." You trail off, stunned into silence, because your cat- your cat- has just jumped on Eric Northman's lap as if it's the most natural thing in the world.

The vampire doesn't bother to hide his smirk as your cat headbutts his hand and starts purring loud enough that you can hear it across the room.

"You were saying?"

**********************************************

After Eric goes home, you decide to get an early night. You're still worn out from your trip, and a little extra sleep will probably do you some good.

It's too hot to sleep with clothes, so you get naked, throw a sheet over your midriff and bury your face in your pillow.

Sleep is almost upon you when you feel the bed dip beside your thigh. It seems your cat has finally forgiven you. You smile sleepily as you feel it curl up in front of your belly.

Then the bed dips again, this time at your back, and your blood turns to ice.

Someone's in your house.

But before you can scream, a familiar voice whispers, "It's just me," and you whip around to see Eric's blue eyes glinting mischievously in the semidarkness. He's lying on his side close behind you, elbow crooked and head propped on his fist, as if his presence in your bed is the most natural thing in the world.

"What are you doing here?" you hiss, trying not to startle your cat, who is now rhythmically kneading your stomach.

"You wanted to find a way to thank me," Eric whispers back, reaching over you to scratch your cat's chin. (The purring and kneading intensifies.) "I've come to collect."

"I didn't think... Not like this..." you mumble, watching Eric's dexterous fingers at work and trying to ignore the sudden spike in your heartbeat.

He smells so good, you think- then shiver as you wonder whether he's thinking the same thing about you.

"I'm not here to keep you awake," Eric murmurs, shifting closer, the better to stroke your cat's flank. "I thought we could have a little nap together. You, me, and the cat."

"That's all you want?" you ask, hoping you don't sound nearly as disappointed as you feel.

Eric chuckles, and his hand strays from your cat's flank to your stomach, then to your hip, sliding higher and higher, toward the bare skin of your chest.

"Oh, no. I want many things from you."

You gasp as his cold fingers reach the edge of the sheet- only for him to tug it up over your naked breasts.

"But for tonight..."

Eric presses himself against you, burying his face in the hair at the nape of your neck and throwing an arm over your waist to continue stroking your cat.

"This is best."

You can't argue with that.

It takes you a while to settle down, what with your heart racing a mile a minute, and skipping a beat every time you remember that Eric can hear it; but eventually you do fall asleep, lulled into dreams by your cat's sleepy purr, the heady smell of Eric, and the rhythmic movements of his fingers.

It almost feels like he's petting you.

#reader insert #eric northman x reader #Fluff #Eric northman imagine

[scribensmulier]

Such Nights as This

pairing: roddy piper x f!reader

word count: 1759

warnings: mutual masturbation, phone sex, use of sex toys, daddy kink

the title is from the Roman poet Propertius describing his beloved: "while I live I am hers, hers will I be in death. But if she grants till then such nights as this to me, a single year would be a long life's span; and if she gives them often, I would never die: one night like this could make a man a god!"

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

When your phone rang, you didn’t hesitate for a second to answer it, knowing it would be Roddy. “Well, hello there.”

“Hey gorgeous.” His already-raspy voice was hoarse after a lengthy promo that night, and the sound swirled through your body. “How you doing tonight?”

You laid back on the bed to relax while talking. He had only been gone two days, but ever since you had moved in together and had gotten used to always having him around, his absences were all the more frustrating. The two of you caught up on everything that had happened since your last conversation (just last night), your work day and his show a couple hours earlier. 

“Babe, listen,” Roddy began, his voice deepening a touch. “I really miss you, you know that?”

“I know. I miss you a lot too. It won’t be much longer, though. It’s a short trip.”

“Yeah yeah. You know, I actually got my own room this time.”

“Yeah? That’s awesome. You don’t have to deal with anyone throwing pillows at you when you snore!”

“Ha ha, funny. But I can also do what I want. All by myself. As much as I want…”

“Roddy, you slut,” you jokingly chastised him. “With all that freedom I’m surprised you’re wasting your time talking to me.”

He lightly chuckled before continuing. “Listen, I want you to do something for me. It’s not what you think.” You paused, knowing he had more to say. “I mean, it kind of is what you think, but something else first.”

“Just tell me what it is, babe.” You couldn’t help smiling to yourself in anticipation.

“The dresser in our room. Go take a look in the bottom drawer, under the sweaters.”

What the hell did he have planned? Why did he want you to dig through a drawer? You sighed dramatically as you got up. “What am I looking for?”

“You’ll know when you see it. Trust me.” And he was right. Exactly where he had said, under the sweaters, was a small box, about half the size of a shoebox, with your name written on it in his scrawl. 

“Roddy… what is this?”

“Just open it, baby.” 

You did as instructed, and a small chuckle escaped your lips. You hadn’t known what you expected to find in the box, but in hindsight you probably should’ve expected the sex toy that now rested in your hands. “Jesus, Roddy, you got me a vibrator? And hid it from me?”

He scoffed. “Like I don’t know about your other one. This one’s for us.”

“For us? So you want me to use it on you?”

“Eh, let’s think about that some other time. Right now I want you to use it on yourself. I made sure it’s already charged.”

“Right now? Should… should I hang up?”

“Don’t ask silly questions, baby. I want to hear every little whimper you make once you turn that thing on. I’m already rock hard thinkin about it.” 

You let out a shaky breath and blinked quickly to clear your mind. Some tiny part of your brain felt nervous about the idea of using a sex toy while someone else was listening, even if that someone else was the love of your life. But some greater part of your brain smothered that thought, because you really really wanted to do this. “Alright. Do you have a specific plan for me?”

“Hmm… well you definitely should take all your clothes off. Not just your pants; everything.” As he spoke, you did what he instructed, setting the phone on speaker mode so you’d have both hands free. “Make sure you pile up the pillows and get yourself all nice and comfy.”

“What about you? Are you all nice and comfy too?”

“Of course. I’ve had my dick in my hand this whole time, just thinking about you all naked for me. Play with your nipples, pinch them a little. Do that little thing I do that you like so much.”

You knew what he meant, and you closed your eyes to imagine it was Roddy working you over instead of your own hands. As he continued his directions, you found it increasingly difficult to resist grabbing the vibrator, but you knew that the wait would be worth it. Even being in a different city, he had you obeying his every word, completely wrapped around his finger. Exactly the way you liked it.

“Alright, princess, how about you spread those gorgeous thighs for me? Don’t do anything yet, just spread ‘em. Good girl. Now just slide one finger in, and tell me how wet you are.”

“Mmm... so wet.”

“Yeah? Good. Taste yourself for me. Lick yourself off that finger and tell me how you taste.”

You moaned as you followed his command. “Tastes so good, Roddy. I wish you were here to taste it for yourself.”

Through the speaker you heard him sharply inhale. “Fuck, me too. When I get back I’m gonna make up for all this lost time. You got your special new toy ready?”

“Mmhmm.” You didn’t trust your voice; you were too caught up in the moment to be coherent.

“Good girl. Now you can turn it on, just to the first setting.” A low buzzing sound filled the room. “Nice, baby, that’s it. Go ahead and put it on that pretty pussy. Right around your clit.” 

“Oh fuck.” The words were out before you realized it. For such an average-sized toy, it certainly had some power to it. This is just the first setting? you thought to yourself. 

Roddy’s breathing sounded shaky already. “Don’t cum without me, babe,” you admonished him. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it. I just… you sound so good, my beautiful girl. I can picture you lying there on our bed, all soaking wet for me, playing with your clit and pretending it’s me. I know you look so fucking hot like that, baby.”

His words made you whimper. The vibrator felt great, but nothing felt as right as Roddy. “You still touching yourself?” you asked, suspecting you knew the answer already.

“Had to take a break.” He let out a breathy chuckle. “Hearing my girl had me almost ready to cum all over myself. Keep going - move it around, see how it feels on every part of your pussy, tell me about it.”

One hand was still on your breast, and you kept it there while you slowly traced the vibrator along your folds, pausing to press it to your entrance. The tease of penetration combined with the vibrating silicone drew a deep moan from you as your words failed.

“Oh I like that sound. You put it in a little bit, didn’t you?” You wordlessly agreed. “Good girl. Why don’t you work it in a little more? I bet that vibration feels so good inside you.”

All sorts of salacious utterances spilled from your lips as you slid the toy into your dripping pussy, feeling every sensation that it offered you. “Babe… please…” 

“What do you need, baby? Tell me.” 

Truthfully, you didn’t even know what you were pleading for. “I just need you, baby, I need you to fuck me.” 

“I will soon, as soon as I can. You know that. Can you do something for me?”

“Anything.”

“Click the little button on that toy. Put it up to the next level.”

Although you weren’t thrusting or really moving it at all, the added intensity set you on edge. “Fuck, oh fuck, I’m so… oh my god it feels so good.”

“Good, I like hearing that.” You could tell from his quavering tone that he had taken himself in hand again, softly groaning as he spoke. “Take the vibrator out.”

You nearly froze in surprise. “What? Why?”

“Just do it.” You did. “Here’s what you’re going to do now. You’re going to use it on your clit, drive yourself insane, okay baby? And you’re gonna use your fingers inside to make yourself feel even better. Start with two fingers. Can you do that for me?”

Your own voice trembled as you responded. “Yes, daddy.” 

Fuck. You hadn’t meant to say that. It had slipped out two or three times before, and you knew he was into it, but it still felt like a new and unfamiliar step. 

“Oh fuck, sweetheart. I need to hear you say it again.”

This time you spoke with more confidence. “Yes, daddy.” 

“God, you better be fucking yourself right now, because I’m not gonna make it much longer, hearing that. You doing what I said?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Good girl. Three fingers now, okay? Three fingers for daddy.”

There were no words to describe the moan you uttered when he said that. You quickly obeyed, easily sliding a third finger into your drenched hole. With your free hand, you positioned the vibrator directly on your clit, letting it send shivering currents through your overly sensitive body. 

“You sound so sexy, baby. I’m getting so close.” You noted the changes in his breath, and knew he wasn’t exaggerating. “Get yourself there for me, I want you to cum with me.” 

“I’m… fuck I’m so close. Please.” You were all but panting into the speaker at this point, desperate for release but wanting to time it perfectly with him.

“Good girl. Make yourself cum, baby, cum for me. Cum for daddy.” He was barely able to pronounce the final word, he was so close to the precipice.

Hearing Roddy call himself daddy once more was all you needed. You cried out all manner of unholy things as an intense orgasm slammed into you. “Oh fuck daddy, I’m coming for you, fuck-”

A hoarse groan on the other end of the phone let you know that he too had reached his peak. “That’s it, baby, I’m coming for you too. I’m… fuck yeah… oh my god…”

For the next moment, the only sounds were laborious breathing and weak whimpers as you both rode out the waves of pleasure, thinking only of each other. You blindly reached out for the vibrator you had dropped in the heat of the moment, making sure to switch it off.

“I fucking love you so much, baby,” Roddy breathed into the phone. “I really do.”

“I love you too.” 

He laughed suddenly. “Best purchase ever. It felt good?”

“So fucking good,” you answered honestly, then paused. “I still miss you, though. I wish you were here.”

“Me too, baby. I’ll be back soon, though, yeah? And you can show me all your tricks with your new toy.” 

#roddy piper #rowdy roddy piper #roddy piper fanfiction #roddy piper x reader #this is a cutesier vibe than i normally like #but he makes me emotional to think about #and then? i went to read my fav roman poet for inspo and i found this bit and i just #its exactly his type of melodramatic declaration #i can hear him shouting the bit about becoming a god #and idk! the poem is more him than the writing probably but thats okay #it had to get out of my head so here we are #i am nothing if not overdramatic!!!

[coraniaid]

It is very sad when Buffy patiently tries to explain to Joyce that she's a Slayer and exactly what that means and why she alone has to go and save the world right now, only for her uncaring and abusive mother to refuse to listen and instead demand Buffy leaves the house forever (an instruction which the fifteen year old Slayer is powerless to overrule and which she takes so seriously she doesn't even think about going back later to pack her bags and leave her mother a note).

Or at least it would be if, you know, literally any of that were true.

What Joyce does say to Buffy in Becoming is bad enough that I don't know why you all insist on pretending she says something different. She doesn’t try to kick her out of the house. She threatens her daughter with an ultimatum in a doomed attempt to try to stop her leaving. She does this after Buffy refuses to explain anything about Angel or Acathla, and then physically pushes her away when Joyce tries to stop her leaving the house.  Joyce is trying to make Buffy stay. It doesn't work – and while Joyce doesn’t know it (because she never does get told exactly why Buffy has to leave right now) it could never have worked – and even if it worked it would be a horrible thing to do to anyone, but it's obvious in context that Buffy leaving is not the outcome Joyce wants!  

Honestly, with the best will in the world, how can you not work that out if you watch the episode?  Have you watched the episode?  And if Buffy only leaves town because Joyce "kicks her out" – if she wasn’t going to leave after being forced to kill Angel no matter what Joyce had said to her – then why does Buffy come back to leave her mother a note and yet not say anything to her Watcher or any of her friends?  Do you think Buffy would agree with you that Giles is entirely blameless here and Joyce is ridiculous for suggesting otherwise?  Are you sure? If Giles is the Good Dad to Joyce's Bad Mother, isn't it a bit strange Buffy doesn't even think about going to stay at his house? Or even telling him where she's going?

I mean, I'm sorry to keep going on about this and I'm sure it's not fun for anyone else to read, but it is just so fucking tiring that people who will variously

forgive or handwave away all the fucked up things Faith and Angel and Spike canonically and gleefully do to Buffy (or pretend that they only happen because the mean writers hate these characters and shouldn't be regarded as canon)

insist on a strictly metaphorical reading of the text where all Buffy's arguments with and betrayals by her Watcher or her friends must only be understood as divisions in Buffy's own mind (which is a valid reading!  but it's not the only possible reading, and people are weirdly selective about who gets covered by this)

understand that because the show is at pains to tell us Buffy likes and trusts her friends we should not try to find evidence that they are "really" bad people or that she is somehow weak or stupid for thinking that they are and should find better friends (which is true!  this is the correct position!  the narrative tells us Buffy likes her friends and they like her and the show is lessened if you don't accept this!)

will, somehow, despite all this, when it comes to the show's only middle-aged woman of any prominence, just insist on reading the text in the most reductive and unfair way, exaggerating her faults or even outright making things up to get at mad at her for.  None of the above applies to Joyce, for … some reason. She's just a badly written character and a bad mom.

Joyce wants Buffy to have a normal life and go to college?  Well, that can't possibly reflect anything Buffy herself wants (Buffy’s certainly never said anything like that! “Cheerleading tryouts”, “Homecoming Queen”, “Northwestern” … why, these are just strange sounds and not words at all!): no, it must be because Joyce is a bad mother. The show always tells us that Buffy and Joyce love each other but sometimes it doesn't show Joyce treating Buffy fairly or with kindness? Well, then Buffy must be some kind of idiot for talking about her mother in the positive way she almost always does.  How dare she be sad her mother died and remember her fondly. Joyce isn't written to be perfect?  Well, that must be because she is badly written: as we all know, flaws and contradictions and weaknesses are only a sign of good writing if they're about a teenager or an adult man.  Sometimes Joyce does and says terrible things that would be hard to forgive in a real person?  Well, that's just who Joyce is and there's no denying it.  

If you listen to people on this site, then you'll learn It's bad when Joyce doesn't immediately believe Buffy is the Slayer. What a terrible mother.  But, equally, it's also bad when she tries to bond with her about being the Slayer and be involved in that part of her life. What a terrible mother.  It's bad when she thinks Buffy might have a future beyond violence and killing things and encourages her to pursue it.  What a terrible mother. It's bad when she's comfortable with her daughter being violent and killing things.  What a terrible mother. What a terrible mother.

And I just wonder:

Don't you all ever get tired of this constant double-standard?  Don't you ever get even a little bit embarrassed about hating a fictional woman even more than Joss Whedon managed to do?

(And even if you don’t, can’t you please just shut up about it for even five minutes?)

#btvs #joyce summers

[unmotivated-student]

"No, no, no, it has to be a fucking joke" He muttered, clenching his fists trying to contain his anger.

Something had to be wrong, it was impossible, he just refused to believe the green team was dead.

They have strong members like Etoiles, Fit or Forever, they also have Bagi, his sister who, although not very strong physically, is mentally strong and...

They also have Roier...

Oh Roier, his husband who is strong mentally and physically and is always willing to show a smile even if he is not well, one of the few people he cared about on that island, probably the only person he trusted 100%...

He couldn't be dead, he couldn't, he couldn't, Cellbit loved him and needed him, Roier couldn't leave like this forever.

That thing was lying to them, right?....

Right?...

"Aren't you happy? Your team won, YOU won "

The voice of that fucking entity echoed in his head again interrupting his thoughts.

"It's not true right? You just want to see us suffer" He wanted answers but in response he received nothing but silence.

"Answer me!" Cellbit shouted, but he didn't get any response this time either.

He turned his gaze to Jaiden and Foolish looking for some kind of support or encouragement but both of them were looking at him with a combination of pity and sadness.

"I know this is harsh, but it seems like it's telling the truth" Foolish said resting one of his hands on Cellbit's shoulder.

"Maybe we have to accept it" Jaiden also tried to calm him down.

Cellbit wanted to yell at them both, telling them how wrong they were, that they didn't understand anything because they don't love Roier as much as he does, that they were idiots if they thought he could be dead, but... Cellbit knew it wouldn't be fair.

How could he say something like that to Foolish? Roier's father. Despite their various "fights" Cellbit knew how much they both love and care about each other.

And Jaiden, she was Roier's partner, they lived together for a long time, they raised Bobby together... Cellbit knows very well that those two had a special relationship, which was born thanks to Bobby.

He would truly be a heartless being if he let out his anger and frustration in any of them.

"You never told us anything about this!" Cellbit shouted to the entity"Why did you do this?!"

"Me? I didn't do anything, you are the ones who are fighting to win here, aren't you?"

"But I wanted to win to save my son!, I didn't want to..." He couldn't finish the sentence.

"In my opinion it is quite obvious that in a competition the weak lose and this time you were the strongest, congratulations, enjoy your sweet victory"

Had he contributed to the loss of the only family he had left? just by blindly following the instructions of something they didn't even know if they should trust?

He, who had told him "take care" before being sent to that place, was now part of the reason why Roier was no longer there.

If only he had thought things through better, if only he had not gotten carried away by everything that had happened on that island, if only...

That wasn't a "sweet victory" at all, it was bitter.

Whether Roier is alive or not, the entity won, Cellbit is suffering without knowing the whereabouts of his husband, perhaps he is dead, perhaps he is somewhere else suffering worse things. If it is the second option, he only had to trust more than ever in his husband's strength.

A little thing that occurred to me when I read about the elimination.

I don't think anyone dies and maybe it just means that the team "dies" as a concept but I wanted to explore the implications of the loss of a team or at least the implications of the ones left believing it died.

And that's it.

I guess we'll find out soon what happens to the losing team but for now I just wanted to practice my writing 🫡

#qsmp roier #qsmp cellbit #qsmp purgatory #qsmp #qsmp guapoduo #qsmp rambles

[autisticlancemcclain]

Lance isn’t good at asking for help. Really, he never has been. He doesn’t like it. It makes him uncomfortable, having to look lesser than he already does. And, like, he’s not trying to say that in a macho, I’m-too-manly-to-be-vulnerable, bullshit way. Nor does he think that asking for help is, inherently, an admission of weakness. He’s always very happy when people come to him for help, and he would never in a million years think less of them for it.

But the rules are different for Lance, and that’s a fact.

For whatever reason, one he’s been unable to discern, people tend to immediately think the worst of him. Always. He’s always the slacker, the guy who can’t take anything seriously, the guy who fucks things up and needs instructions explained to him twice because he’s too stupid to understand the first time. He doesn’t fucking know why so many people think this of him. He’s a goofy guy, sure, but, like… so is Hunk. So is Coran. So is Marco, so is Lance’s abuela, so are dozens of people in his life. But for whatever reason, those people are allowed to be goofy and smart. Goofy and wise. Goofy and talented. Goofy and kind.

Not Lance. Lance is, for whatever reason, one-dimensional in everyone’s head.

And he knows he’s right. He fucking knows it. He remembers complaining about homework in the Garrison, and hearing Pidge make a comment about helping him in math because “that must be what you’re struggling with, right, dude?” Lance was top of his fucking math class. He was higher up than her. Lance is really fucking good at math. He didn’t and doesn’t need her fucking tutelage, and it pissed him off that she asked. That she assumed he did.

But he swallowed it down, and laughed, because he knew she wasn’t being malicious.

And, like, if that was it? Then this wouldn’t be a problem. Lance would be able to shrug it off and move on.

But that’s not it.

Take the Nyma incident, for example. The team brings that up, no word of a lie, every single day. Somehow someone finds a way to squeeze in a joke. And it’s not even just the jokes — there’s the underlying tension that everyone truly believes, in the back of their minds, that Lance can’t be fully trusted with his lion. Which is fucking ridiculous, because each and every person on the goddamn team has made a mistake that nearly cost them the goddamn war. Pidge trying to run away from Voltron in the first few days. Allura and Keith when they decided to run away, leaving the rest of the team defenseless. Hunk succumbing to the mind control and nearly fucking killing Lance on the mermaid planet. Every time Shiro has a PTSD episode, even though of course it’s not his fault. Of course Lance has fucked up. Drastically. But so has everyone else. How come it’s only him who’s the butt of the joke? How come he’s the reckless one, who can’t stay out of the pods? (Even though he won’t touch those fucking death traps unless he’s unconscious, so that’s not even true.) How come he’s the dumbest team member? How come he’s not allowed to help in strategy meetings? How come he gets singled out when Shiro and Allura are asking them to behave, even though Pidge and Hunk — and he’s counted — have caused three times as many diplomatic crises as he has?

How come he’s not allowed the same forgiveness as anyone else?

It frustrates him. But it’s been like this most of his life. In school he was the class clown, even though he really didn’t make jokes during lectures. (Not intentionally, at least. He asked a lot of questions that made people laugh, for whatever reason, but that was almost never his goal! People just weren’t very clear when they spoke!) He can remember having teachers offhandedly mention to his mother that he had ‘behavioural issues’, but were unable to provide examples when she pressed. They just assumed he did. He can remember getting singled out by every fucking officer at the Garrison as the reason the sims failed, even though it really wasn’t always true.

He’s not sure what it is about him that makes people think he’s so pathetic. But he’s sure as shit not going to make it worse for himself, so unless he’s completely, physically incapable of handling a problem on his own, he’s going to keep his mouth shut and head down.

He’s pretty good at that, too, even though no one would believe him. Take the pods, for example.

Lance fucking hates them.

He’s terrified of them. Like, actual, palm-sweat panic-attack terrified. Unfortunately, getting stuck in one fucked him up more than he realised. He can’t think of them without shuddering. So he did what he always does when he’s afraid: learnt every possible thing there is to know about them. He did it as a kid, when he was afraid of drowning. (His best friend, when he was five, got caught in a riptide and drowned right in front of him. He’d been terrified of the ocean, after. Made himself walk closer to it every day while learning every possible thing there was to know about it until he could live with the terror. Until he could even turn the terror into exhilaration, swimming as far out as he dared and staying under as long as his lungs could bare, just to feel his heart pound in his ears and his hind brain go haywire.)

He did it in space, after the pods tried to bury him alive.

He learned — from Coran and from the castle’s library — that the pods are not miracle workers. They cannot make something out of nothing anymore than they can reanimate the dead. The pods, really, are a sort of advanced coma. They can accelerate what healing the body can already do. They can even take cells and other parts of the body and make skin grafts, kill tumours, all sorts of things — but they can’t repair what no longer exists.

Lance, after the Rover explosion, lost two things.

First was almost the entirety of the skin of his back. Ripped to shreds, it was. His head, by some miracle, had remained largely unscathed — except for the concussion that went untreated for too long, that affected his brain in more ways than he was willing to admit, that made memory recall a lot harder than it used to be — and his jeans had done a pretty good job of protecting the backs of his legs.

But his thin t-shirt did nothing to protect his back. And there was only so much the pod could do.

Most of his back was one giant mess of scar tissue and skin grafts. And as scar tissues and skin grafts tend to do — they hurt.

They hurt a lot.

Nerve damage is a strange thing. Sometimes it makes entire parts of your body go numb. Unfortunately for Lance, it’s the opposite: regularly, and unpredictability, his back feels like it’s burning. Like he never left the explosion. Like he’s in a constant state of purgatory.

And for the first few weeks, Lance handled it. He grit his teeth and waved off the concerns of his teammates, assuring them with a wink and a grin that he’d healed up just as handsome as before. (Which, of course, was a lie for several reasons. Every time Lance caught a glance of himself in the mirror — of the writhing mass of revulsion that makes up the skin of his back — he wants to wipe his memory. Restart. Pretend it never happened, pretend he’s still pretty, still untouched by twistedness. But that’s nobody’s business but his own, so he holds his tongue.)

Day after day of the skin of his back feeling the constant, never-ending excruciating pain of cooking flesh, he gave in. Hunched in on himself, dragged himself to Coran’s room, and asked if there was something to be done.

Coran was horrified, of course. Baffled that Lance didn’t come to him sooner, that he swallowed down the agony and tried to deal with it himself. And he of course had a solution; a balm that would provide instant, long-lasting relief. But there was no permanent fix. No pill he could take, either. Every couple of weeks, he had no choice but to slump his way to Coran and have the man rub to ointment into his back, because he couldn’t reach himself.

It was humiliating, being so reliant on another person. Being so totally incapable of handling things himself, of being his own goddamn person. At least Coran was kind, was discreet — he knew without saying that this was not something to be shared with anyone else. He knew to help Lance as quickly as possible, so Lance could retreat to nurse his wounded pride in peace.

It was because of his wounded pride that made the second thing so difficult: along with the skin of his back, the explosion had stolen his hearing.

Not completely. He wasn’t completely deaf. But he was no Altean superhuman, and the delicate hairs in his ears that allowed his brain to pick up sound waves have shattered so close to the explosion. Broken. He’d taken some sort of magnifying device himself to assess the damage, the night he fell out of the healing pod, panicked because his fucking ears weren’t working and dreading what he would find: hundreds of little hairs, much smaller than they were supposed to be. Too small to hear words, to hear people speak.

He could of course still hear them speak. He could hear when people were speaking, still hear the tone and pitch of their voices and the way they crafted their sentences. But it felt like he was dozens of feet underwater, far away from everyone else, completely incapable of picking out individual words and phrases and lost on their meanings.

Luckily, he adapted.

He’s always been pretty good at reading lips. Since it’s always been hard for him to make any kind of eye contact, he tended to focus on people’s mouths when they spoke, and inadvertently picked up some skills as he grew up.

But lip reading isn’t very reliable. You can be the best in the world, and you’re still going to miss half of what people are saying.

Especially if, say, people are speaking your second language. Or an alien language you don’t even know, at least not fluently.

Luckily for Lance, he lives on a magical space castle that has magical space translators. He doesn’t know how they work — and, honestly, aside from Coran, doubts anyone else does either — but he knows that they translate the words of whomever’s speaking into the language easiest to understand for you. Before, he was hearing everyone else’s words in Spanglish — now, he was seeing them. Little close captions appeared above the heads of whomever was speaking. He looked a little odd, sure, constantly looking just above everyone, but holy shit, he did not care. So long as he could communicate, it did not fucking matter. (It was even easier when he was in his armour, and everyone’s words flashed along his visor, colour-coded and in order. He’s been remarkably more fond of training and missions since that explosion, fancy that.)

The biggest flaw to this system is that everyone else still has a communicative advantage over Lance, and they do not know it. They speak as they always have, often excitably and all over each other, and Lance can’t quite keep up. He’s never been a particularly fast reader, but even if he was, there’d always be a delay, a millisecond of processing that stretched just long enough that people looked at him strangely. And, of course, Lance could only read one thing at once. If two people were talking at the same time, or if they were trying to talk to him without looking at him, it was inevitable that Lance misses. Chunks of the conversation, inside jokes, and worst of all, instructions. He’s taken to asking people to write important things down for him, which does not help his reputation as resident dumbass.

All in all, it’s not a perfect solution. But it’s a solution, at least, and that’s something.

Except when magical space castles break down.

It turns out, you see, that space magic is not in fact space magic, but instead ridiculously advanced space technology. And if there’s one thing that technology can be universally relied upon to do, it’s break down.

Which does not bode well for Lance, currently.

He walks onto the bridge — late, of course, because the alarms are barely fucking alarms for him, they do not wake him up, so of course he shows up in his pajamas and for sure everyone thinks he’s a lazy piece of shit who can’t be assed to take anything seriously — to a lot of thinly veiled panic.

And to a lack of closed captions that he’s been heavily relying on for the better part of a year.

Based on the general air of panic, expressions of frustrated confusion between the Alteans and humans, and the lack of fucking captions, Lance can wary a guess as to what’s going on.

The translators are down.

And, obviously, that bodes a bit of a problem. Especially because they have a mission today, one they can’t afford to fuck up. (Not that they can ever afford to fuck up. No, Voltron needs to be perfect every time, because there are lives at stake, except Voltron is made of humans, so they fuck up all the time. It weighs on each of them. When Lance is feeling particularly masochistic, he wonders what’s going to happen when they snap under the pressure. When he snaps under the pressure.)

Lance stands to the sidelines, carefully watching what everyone else is saying and doing. Shiro and Allura attempt to converse for a while, with words and gestures, but it goes nowhere and they both give up. Pidge and Hunk are talking just fine, but they both look nervous, and they’re curled inwards towards each other enough that Lance can’t see what they’re saying. Coran is nowhere to be found, likely attempting to fix this mess, and Keith is — Keith is watching him.

Lance looks away. He cannot be under scrutiny. Not right now. Because… well.

You see, deaf people can’t be fighter pilots.

Period.

Commercial airlines are one thing, but fighter pilots require a lot of split-second decisions to be made after audio information, be they orders or the sound of your fucking aircraft going up in flames. If you can’t hear those sounds, can’t make those calls, you’re a liability to those around you.

Lance knows he’s being selfish. He knows it in every part of him, from the meat of his brain to the marrow of his bones. He know he is putting everyone at risk — putting himself at risk — by keeping quiet about his condition.

But he’s terrified.

Of course he’s replaceable. He’s a butt in a seat, basically. But unlike everyone else on the team, he is only a butt on a seat. He doesn’t bring anything else to the table, perhaps other than someone who can pick up the slack in the chore schedule when everyone else gets busy. He can’t hack through any computer known to man, can’t MacGuyver his way out of any situation with a screwdriver and sheer force of will, can’t offer piloting skills better than anyone else in the universe, can’t use his quintessence to open up wormholes. If he’s not a paladin, he’s useless.

And they don’t have enough resources to support useless people.

What are they going to do when they replace him? Keep him on the castle as a deadweight? Unlikely. Unbearable, too. Drop him off on a random planet and promise to pick him up when it’s all over? Too callous, even though it would be the best option. No one on the team would ever do that.

Drop him back on Earth? Alone? Knowing what’s out there, the danger Earth is in?

No. He couldn’t bear it.

Besides — he’s lasted this long. With captions, sure, and without them he can’t communicate at all or hear orders or get instructions or be a fucking paladin, but he’ll… manage.

They’ve already received their instructions for today’s mission. Lance already knows what he has to do, and it’s what he always does — provide support from a distance. Keep an eye on the team. Make sure no shots slip through.

(Sometimes, when he’s feeling grateful instead of masochistic, he thanks any higher power to every exist that he lost his hearing instead of his eyesight.)

Lance is startled from his thoughts by a heavy hand on his shoulder. He turns wide eyes to Shiro, looking at him carefully, assessing.

“You okay?”

Lance is used to those words. He gets them a lot. So that’s not hard to read.

“I’m fine,” he says, and he knows he’s too loud even before Shiro winces, because even his own broken ears heard that. “Um, just a little stressed. ‘Cause the translators are down, and all.”

Truly Lance does not need to read Shiro’s lips to guess what he is saying — we’re gonna be fine, we’ll get through this together, this is rough but we’re strong, et cetera, et cetera.

Fuck, Lance thinks, dread piling up his chest, if only you knew.

Shiro voices a few more short instructions to the team, Pidge haltingly trying to translate for Allura with her limited Altean — which, judging by their expressions, is going not so great — before clapping his hands and sending them to their hangars.

Lance squeezes his fists to hold back tears as he runs.

Fine. Fine. This is going to be fine. Magically, this time, things are going to go exactly to plan, and he’ll support as he always done and somehow there will be no issues, this time, and everything will be fine and the translators will get fixed and Lance will continue delaying the inevitable. It’s fine.

God, Lance is so fucking scared.

He settles into Blue, greeting her softly and getting her gentle affection in return. (It’s something, at least, that Blue knows who he is and loves him still, believes in him still. It gives him hope, even though he knows it’s foolish.)

And, shockingly, the first part of the mission goes…okay. It’s not great, obviously, because they’ve basically got no castle support, but Blue manages to make her own kind of captions on her dash so Lance gets a refresher of the plan and stays on the same page as everyone else.

It’s the infiltration part that’s so much harder.

He doesn’t have Blue’s captions on his helmet, so he’s going in completely blind — or, deaf, rather. The only thing he can really hear is his own laboured breathing, and he doesn’t know if it’s because he’s really that loud or because he knows he’s panicking, but it doesn’t really matter. He slinks through the shadows, carefully avoiding patrolling Galran soldiers. (Which, actually, is really fucking hard since he can’t hear them coming. In the first few weeks post-explosion, it was literally impossible. He was caught every time, and regularly blew stealth missions as he tried to cover himself and keep himself alive. He also didn’t know when he was being loud, back then, so regularly led himself straight into ambushes, which didn’t help the team’s trust in him to be able to handle his goddamn self. It took him months of secret training in the dead of night to learn to trust his intuition, to memorize patrolling schedules and anticipate when he has to make himself invisible. He is pretty good at it now, though, so at least something good has come from this mess.)

Finally he reaches boiler room tucked into a corner of a hallway, which he knows from experience and from memorizing layouts to Galran ships has an air vent that leads to the tiniest of alcoves near the ceiling of the bridge. He’s not sure what purpose this alcove is supposed to serve, but he knows it’s excellent for his purposes — remaining hidden and invisible so he can provide support while the rest of the team goes ham.

Even without the captions that tell him what everyone’s saying on the comms — and dear God, he hopes no one is talking to him, but that usually doesn’t happen because of his position anyway — he thinks he’s doing okay. This ship they’re infiltration is pretty run-of-the-mill: no fancy info or prisoners or even soldiers. Just regular. All he has to do is keep his eyes trained on the battle scene in front of him, muffled sounds of violence fading into the background, as he picks off soldier after soldier, drone after drone, to keep his friends safe.

And then a hand wraps around his mouth, and panic fills him up so quickly his vision actually whites out.

Lance has a lot of nightmares. It’s a rare night that he doesn’t. And most of them are reoccurring — a select few scenarios that he sees again and again, night after night, that wake him up sobbing, in a cold sweat. The worst is watching as Earth — as his family — is destroyed by the Galra. Next is any dream where one of his team members doesn’t make it. After that, though, is a dream that always scares him so bad he can never get back to sleep after. The thing about being a sniper is that Lance can’t pay attention to himself. At all. All of his attention needs to be on the people he’s protecting, so he can shoot straight and keep shooting. This means that he is not, in any way, shape, or form, watching his own six. And since he lost his hearing, he’s completely defenseless, up in his little alcove. He can’t hear if someone’s coming, can’t even hear if someone’s spotted him. He’s pretty confident in his little alcove, but there’s always a risk. Always that fear. Always that nightmare, reoccurring night after night.

And now that nightmare is coming true. The hand around his eyes slides down his face until it’s wrapped around his throat, squeezing tightly. Lance doesn’t have even half a second to react, staring in mute horror as the Galran soldier — a commander, judging by the symbol on his chest plate — sneers at him, saying something that Lance can’t even hear, lips moving around words that he doesn’t know.

Finally, he recognises three: “Vrepit Sa, Paladin.”

And then he’s dropping to the floor, three stories down, limbs crumpling on impact and vision doing dark.

———

Right before the door of the pod opens, there’s a second of clarity. A millisecond in between when you regain consciousness and the glass clears.

That second always makes Lance panic.

But then he’s tipping forward into strong arms, familiar arms, and a familiar face and headband, and Hunk is saying, “Can you hear me, buddy?” because that’s the first thing anyone says when you come out of a pod and there are still no captions and Lance bursts into tears.

The whole team is gathered. Everyone sees. Everyone watches as he pushes Hunk away, ashamed, and covers his face in his hands and sobs.

“No,” he whispers, in between great heaving breaths so sharp they hurt his lungs. “No, I can’t hear anything.”

He’s not sure how long he stands there, shoulders hunched in on himself, tears and snot streaming down his face and dropping down his chin, arms wrapped tightly around his torso in a desperate attempt to keep himself from falling apart.

He’s not sure how long he stands there, falling to pieces in front of his team. He’s not sure into how many fragments he shatters, falling to the MedBay floor.

Eventually, though, his sobs peter out, because no matter how miserable you are and how stressed and how much you hate yourself there’s only so long you can cry. Only so long your rational brain can take a break and let your emotions run free before it says ‘alright, okay, that’s enough, dry up’.

By then, he realizes there’s a gloved hand on his shoulder, two warm bodies pressed on either side of him, one big and strong, one small and sharp. He feels the presence of three more people staring at him, sitting somewhere in front of him.

He takes a great shuddering breath and drops his hands from his face, forcing his eyes open.

Coran kneels in front of him, hand on his shoulders, eyebrows drawn in and expression deeply concerned. Pidge and Hunk sit on either side of him, pressed close, and Keith, Allura, and Shiro sit just behind Coran, looking at him with wide, confused eyes.

“What do mean, dear?” says Coran, or at least Lance thinks.

“I can’t hear. I’ve been deaf since the explosion.” His voice cracks as he says it, he feels the raspiness of his throat. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

He feels Pidge and Hunk exhale sharply next to him, and watches as Coran’s expression breaks.

“Oh, Lance,” he says, and apparently Lance can cry more.

But before he can cover his face, this time, Coran tugs him forward, tucking his face into his neck. He mutters something comforting, Lance is sure, even though he can’t hear it, but the vibrations from Coran’s chest are soothing enough that this round of tears doesn’t hurt so much.

This round doesn’t feel like he’s shattering into millions of tiny little glass shards. This round, someone — lots of someones — is holding him together.

———

Lance, it turns out, is a lot more damaged than he thought.

Apparently his head didn’t emerge as unscathed from the explosion as he thought. Apparently there was a lot more brain damage than expected, and apparently a lot of the parts of Lance’s brain that are supposed to secrete chemicals — namely, happy chemicals, chemicals that identify love and keep one’s mood and self-esteem from plummeting into the fucking dirt and refusing to come back up — don’t work right anymore.

Apparently, there’s a reason Lance feels like he’s unloveable, and that he’s useless, and that he’s disposable.

So. That would’ve been nice to know a year ago.

But that doesn’t matter. He didn’t know a year ago, but he knows now (after a long overdue MRI and brain scan that makes everyone on the castle so fucking guilty Lance can taste it, which should be uncomfortable but Lance is so desperately happy that his friends actually care about him enough to feel guilty that all he really feels is relief).

Now things are better. A lot better, in fact. He still needs to ask someone for help every couple weeks with his back — which has gotten a lot less shameful and humiliating, go figure — but Hunk and Pidge made him some truly groundbreaking hearing aids.

Yeah. He can hear again. It’s not perfect, and nowhere near what his ears used to be, but the first time he turned them on and heard actual words, in a sentence he could hear and understand, he went pretty hysterical.

It felt like when the flu finally breaks and you can breathe properly again, only magnified by a million.

The last thing to change is kind of a mix of several things. For starters, he has meds, now, that he takes every day to keep his brain working right. It was startling, a few weeks after taking his medication, to look in the mirror and for the first time in a year not wish he had died in that explosion. (He mentioned that offhandedly to Coran when the man was asking him how the medication was working, and was shocked to watch the Altean break down into sobs, apologising to Lance for not noticing.

Like, holy crow.)

Secondly, after everyone stopped walking on eggshells around him, they started being more careful with their words. Lance hasn’t heard a Nyma joke in months. He’s regularly asked for his input when they’re planning missions, hell, he’s asked for help all the time for things that aren’t chores! It’s amazing. He’s not sure if the team has always had faith in him and his brain just couldn’t see it, or if it’s new, but honestly? He doesn’t care.

He didn’t realise how fucking long he had been treading water until he was finally allowed to put his feet on the ground, and it’s relieving.

There’s nothing like discovering you were loved the whole time.

#now this is a heavy one yikes #vld #voltron #lance #lance mcclain #langst #deaf lance #partially deaf lance #depressed lance #chronic pain lance #triple whammy for this poor bitch #self hatred #internalized ableism #lance & coran #lance & voltron paladins #injury and recovery #violence #struggling lance #insecure lance #hurt/comfort #heavy angst #my writing #fic #longpost #mentally ill lance

[unabashedcandymaker]

Shameless 01

Words: 4200

Summary: This is definitely a dom/sub relationship.  Sub!Bucky x Dom!Reader, but it will switch up as the story progresses.  Loosely based off the song Shameless by The Weeknd. It’s definitely angsty as in this one, Bucky has serious self-worth issues and Reader is there for Bucky even if her selflessness is bordering on the line of torturing herself to take care of him, to be there for him and to do whatever he needs of her.  So Reader has some self-worth issues of her own, but she does it all for the sake of the one she loves. 

Warnings: so like I mentioned above, it’s sub!Bucky x dom!Reader.  Let me see if I can list everything.  The only big one I can think of is the orgasm torture where even after climaxing, the stimulation doesn’t stop, making the pleasure overwhelming as they become too sensitive.  There’s talk of edging, but that doesn’t really happen in here.

Shameless Masterlist

You shouldn’t be surprised that you kept finding yourself here. You knew every time he called, you’d come running. It was never a question. It made you feel just a little proud that even though Bucky couldn’t commit to anyone else, he still needed you.  

Sure, it may just be for sex, but it was sex he didn’t trust to have with anyone else. He trusted you more than anyone else. He needed you to fulfill these parts of him, these desires, that nobody else could fulfill, but you.

So here you stood, in the middle of his living room, wearing nothing but your heels and matching panties. Bucky was kneeling a few feet in front of you, on his knees, staring at the floor. Waiting for your instruction.

“Who’s gonna love you like me, baby boy?” You asked in a strong, steady, confident voice that you saved especially for these occasions.

 He didn’t answer, save for a slight shake of his head.

You walked towards him, the clicking of your heels muffled by the carpeted floor. When you were standing in front of him, the hair on the top of his head grazing against your lower belly, you ran your fingers through the soft locks. Your fingers fell to his face and ran gently over his face before pulling back and landing a sharp smack against his cheek. His head moved minutely before you cupped his chin and jerked his face up until his eyes met yours.

“Who else is gonna touch you like me?”

He tried to shake his head again, but your grip on his chin wouldn’t allow it.

“Say it,” you growled.

“Nobody,” he whispered as his stony blue eyes continued to stare earnestly into yours.

“Say it louder,” you commanded, raising your voice.

“Nobody,” he said just as you instructed.

“Have you been a good boy?” You mused as you let go of his chin and his head dropped back down into its original submissive pose. If you weren’t watching closely, you’d have missed the slight nod of his head.

You didn’t much care for this, being dominant, but you were committed to being anything and everything Bucky would ever need. He was your best friend.  

Well, in all actuality, he was much more than that to you, but you’d never admit it aloud. You knew he didn’t handle intimacy and emotions well, choosing instead to cut out that entire part of his existence. So, you’d play along with whatever games he needed.

You swallowed your hurt, pushing it deep, deep down, not to let it resurface again until you were alone in your bed later that night. You wouldn’t allow him to see that side of you. It’s not what he needed today. Maybe, one day when he needs you to be the submissive one, when he has the urge to care for someone, you might have let your weakness show, but today was not that day.

Right now, he needs you to hurt him. You are the only one that can do this for him.

When Bucky gets into these moods, when he gets low and self-deprecating like he is tonight, he needs you to control him. When he called you earlier that evening, his voice timid and shaking, begging you to come over, you knew what he was really asking of you. It wasn’t your kink, but you’d do anything for him. Because he was your kink. He was your everything.

You loved him. 

But you’d never tell him that either.

His eyes were sad; hurt, when he looked up at you again. He was desperate to feel something other than the agonizing pang of guilt that seared like daggers in his chest. When his nightmares get bad, when he remembers all the people that his hands have killed, when he remembers all the innocent lives made worse all from his doings, that’s when he wants, no, needs you like this.

You walk back across the room, aware of his gaze still on you. You approach a large, plush sitting chair that he has against the far wall. Just as you are getting close, you stop and slowly push your panties down your legs and step out of them, leaving the lacy undergarment pooled on the floor.  You take your seat on the edge of the cushion, letting your ass hang half-way off of it.

“Come here,” you instruct him as you crook your finger invitingly towards yourself. He crawls on his hands and knees the few feet until he is kneeling in front of you. “Kiss me…here.” You point to the patch of soft curls between your thighs.

It takes only a second before his lips are on the inside of your thigh. He’s leaving a trail of open mouth kisses up along the sensitive skin before he switches to the other side. He has left his hands by his side as he knows he is supposed to since you have not instructed him to touch you yet.

The man’s mouth was pure sin as it skimmed along your flesh.

“Higher,” you moaned, letting your hands fall to his hair, directing him exactly where you wanted him to go. He growled into your curls as his nose dove between your folds and his tongue dipped into your entrance.

He never stopped for a second, not even to get a decent breath, as he continued. He teased around your clit, making you keen and thrust your hips up into his face.

It wasn’t the first time he had proven to you how gifted he was with his mouth. On more than just a few occasions, he’d had you coming by using nothing but his tongue. This was looking to be one of those occasions as you felt yourself start climbing higher and higher. You would swear it was better than actual intercourse, but you’ve also felt what it was like to come with his cock inside you.

Your body was coming alive, ‘opening like a flower’ is what Bucky usually likes to say when he tops. It took you a few minutes to notice his hips rutting gently into the air, finding nothing to grind against that could relieve the tension between his legs. It was a soft, gentle movement; you doubted he was even aware it was happening.

“Do you want to touch?” you asked, keeping up your commanding tone. He nodded eagerly, but never let his mouth stray from your dripping folds. “Is that big, throbbing cock just aching to be touched?”

He moaned his answer into your pussy, your eyes rolling back slightly at the vibrations sent jolting through your core. His eyes locked with yours as he flattened his tongue and swiped it up between your folds, holding pressure on your clit. You moaned yet again as you took two fistfuls of his hair and pulled him back away from you. The way he whimpered when he lost contact with you sent a deep ache into your gut, begging for release.

“On your feet,” you said with what you hoped was your domme tone, but was far too shaky to be truly convincing. Regardless, he stood quickly and clenched his fists by his sides. It would never cease to amaze you the amount of control he possessed to be able to deny himself the pleasure of touching himself before you instructed him to do so.

“Take them off,” you continued, finding your voice again, and gestured towards the only article of clothing that he was still wearing.

He was slow; his hands coming up to his hips before sliding his fingers down and underneath the elastic waistband of his underwear. His thumb hooked over the top and your mouth watered as you watched him bend gracefully, fluidly, flawlessly, pushing the material down his thick, toned thighs and let them fall to the ground.

His cock was fully hard, bobbing heavily in front of him. It was a deep red and looked like it was dripping with pre-cum already. You let your fingers drum over the arms of your chair, fighting to keep yourself from reaching out and touching him.

“Touch yourself,” you commanded.  “Slowly.”

He didn’t disappoint you. He licked the palm of his hand, even spit in it before he wrapped those long, slender fingers around his thickness. His touch was delicate, you could tell even from here.  You watched as he twisted his grip over his cock as he slid down to the base before bringing it up over the head. His thumb swiped over the slit, bringing a couple beads of pre-cum swirling around the tip before letting his fist slide back down again.  

“Faster.”

He whimpered slightly, but didn’t falter as his hand continued its thrusting, speeding his pace marginally. You could tell he was approaching his climax at a dangerously fast pace. This was usually what happened when you started the night wil him between your thighs. It had been one of his favorites and you used the intimate knowledge that he derived unfounded pleasure when his tongue was between your folds.

It was impossible to fight the urge to touch yourself. So you didn’t.The moment your fingers brushed against your clit, you let the moan fall uninhibited from your lips. Your other hand found your breast and tweaked the nipple tight before rolling it between your thumb and forefinger. The hand on your clit pressed two fingers against the bundle of nerves before starting slow circles.

“Please,” Bucky begged as his eyes bore into yours. His pupils were so blown that you could only make out the smallest gray-blue ring surrounding the pool of blackness.

“Mmm, please what, baby boy?” you mewled as you let your fingers slip down and slide two inside of you nearly to the knuckle.

“Please, let me taste you again,” he asked as his gaze drifted to where your fingers were slowly pumping in and out of you. “Let me make you come…”

“On your knees,” you commanded as you let your fingers fall out of your cunt and held them out expectantly towards him.

He fell to his knees roughly, his mouth devouring your fingers, slurping your juices from them. His hand fell from his cock and you pulled your hand from his mouth quickly.

“I never said you could stop touching yourself,” you said as you gestured towards his swollen cockhead. You watched his lip quiver as he reluctantly started stroking his cock again. “Eat me, baby boy. Kiss me like it might be the last time you’ll lick this pussy.”

Like a man possessed, his mouth was on you, nose and tongue diving into your soft curls and found that spot that had you keening into him again. One hand found his hair and pulled while the other stayed on your breast, pinching sharply at the bud, making you cry out.

You came with a sharp cry, pulling his hair in your fist so tight that you were sure you were going to pull it straight from his scalp.

“Stop,” you huffed, trying to catch your breath.

He never hesitated, falling back into his seated position, hands on his thighs, and head ducked down staring at the floor. You stood and straightened yourself the best that you could on shaky legs. You kicked off the heels and walked over to his side.

“Sit in the chair.”

He rose smoothly, more graceful than any man of his stature should be able to. He took his seat as you strode to the armoire across the room that was usually locked. Now, however, it was open and its contents were on full display.

There were drawers upon drawers full of different toys and gear that he used only with you. Hanging from the top were paddles and whips that weren’t used too often. Sure, when Bucky was the sub most of the time, he craved the pain, but there wasn’t much you could do physically to inflict the kind of feeling he needed.  

But it didn’t matter. That wasn’t the kind of pain he needed. He’d experienced that enough before. No, instead, Bucky’s preference of submission lingered along the lines of orgasm denial and orgasm torture.

Your usual method was to bring him to the edge over and over again, bring him right to the cusp, only to deny him repeatedly until he was a blubbering mess. He always responded so well which made it all the more effective.

His favorite, however, was the orgasm torture; when you would force orgasm after orgasm on him despite his sensitivity. It was definitely the most intense form of punishment for the super soldier as the serum surging through his veins meant nearly no recovery time between climaxes. You could make him cum over and over and over again, only having to stop when you had exhausted yourself.

Tonight didn’t seem like one of those nights. He seemed pretty mild compared to when you usually dominate him, but that didn’t mean you were going to let him off too easily. You’d formed a game plan in your head, settling on keeping it on the simpler side tonight. So you grabbed a simple, adjustable silicone cock ring and some cuffs to restrain his hands and feet.

He watched you carefully as you knelt in front of him, slowly taking one ankle and guiding it closer to the foot of the chair before cuffing it into place. When you moved to the other, he had already widened his stance, making it easier to cuff the other. You walked around to the back and did the same to his wrists. When you were satisfied he wasn’t going to be able to slip his restraints easily, you came back around and stood between his knees. Of course it would be effortless for him to snap the bindings, but like most other things that happen in this bedroom, it’s more about his self control than anything else.

You showed him the cock ring and smiled wickedly when his breath caught in his chest. You knelt and slowly swiped your tongue along his shaft, teasing him before placing the ring in place. When you had it wrapped around his base and the balls, you tightened the band until it was snug.  He showed no signs of discomfort so you let go and crawled into his lap.

With your knees on either side of his hips, you reached between your bodies and fisted his cock, guiding him towards your entrance. Without anything in the way of warning, you slammed down until your ass was flush against his thighs, his cock buried tight inside of you.

This was your favorite position. It allowed you the illusion of intimacy as your bodies were pressed snugly against one another. You knew it was one of his too, but for different reasons. He’d tell you it was because it kept him eye-level with your bouncing breasts. He’d tell you it was because it afforded him the perfect position to watch your bodies connect the way that made you scream his name. He’d tell you it was because you looked like a goddess riding him like this, in complete control, leaving him at your mercy.

“Fuck!” he cursed through gritted teeth, squeezing his eyes shut as you continued to slam down in his lap. Your nails raked over his shoulders, the top of his back, before finding home in his hair once more.

“You wanna come, baby boy?” you asked in a heaving breath.

“Yes, p-please…” he gasped as he threw his head back and screwed up his face in concentration. You imagined it was taking everything he had in him not to let go right this second. His entire body was tensed underneath you, even the chair creaked as he was straining against the cuffs.

“You can come…” you whispered in his ear and felt him relax for a second before you continued, “…but I’m not gonna stop riding this fat cock until I’ve come again.”

He cursed in what you assumed was Romanian as he clenched every muscle in his body. You felt him lock up beneath you as he continued to fight against his release, but it was too late.  

This is what he loved, you knew it.  

He was fighting against the urge to let go. His body knew that it was so close to unencumbered bliss, but his mind knew that it came at a nearly unbearable price.

“Come on, baby boy. You can do it,” you whispered in his ear before taking the lobe between your teeth and tugging. Your arms were wrapped around his neck and one hand came up to tangle in his sweat-dampened locks. His head was falling forward to your shoulder as he continued to struggle for control, but you pulled his head back again. Your mouth was now on his neck, nipping and sucking and lavishing his skin with your tongue.

“Come in me, James. I need to feel that big, fat cock spilling all that cum inside of me. God, the way you stretch my pretty little pussy, I can’t help it,” your walls tightened around his straining girth for dramatic effect, “as you hit that same little spot inside me, it drives me crazy. C’mon, I know you want it baby, I know you wanna come in me so hard and deep that it’ll be dripping out of me for hours after you pull out.”

“Oh gods….shit…fu-fucking damn it…f-f-fuck…p-please…” his curses were intermixing between English and Romanian now and you knew he was seconds away from losing it. You quickened your pace as your intermingled sweat made your bodies stick to one another. You let go of his neck, instead placing your hands on his bound wrists, leaned back so your front was on full display, and rolled your hips so sinfully, grinding on him, moaning his name.

With a growl and a cry, he was coming hard inside you. You could feel the way his cock twitched as he pulsed against your fluttering walls. You slowed your pace until you were taking long, slow strides above him. The mixtures of your juices were starting to leak out of you and pool in the chair.  

You let him relax a little before you started your punishing rhythm again, barely hearing his little whimpers as your own pulse thundered in your ears.  You couldn’t help but fall forward again, your head on his shoulder and his breath was hot in your ear as it shuttered in and out.

It took only a dozen more sloppy thrusts before you were coming again.  When your walls clamped tight over him, his whimpers turned to cries before you were sliding up and off of him, and then to the floor on your knees in front of him. Your hands were fisted around his shaft as you worked him quickly into another release.

His brow was furrowed and his eyes bore into yours, his perfect mouth falling open as he came again, his seed spurting up and spilling all over his taut belly.

When his breathing started to return to normal, you carefully loosened the cock ring and unbuckled the cuffs from his wrists and ankles.  

First, you massaged the pink skin on each limb where the cuffs restrained him before you worked your way slowly up his legs. Your hands found his and you eased him up until he was standing. His body sagged against yours as you led him to the bathroom and urged him into the shower.

When the water was as hot as you were going to be able to stand it, you eased him under the spray. Lathering your hands with his soap, you eased them into his scalp, massaging it the way you knew he liked. Once you were satisfied, you eased his head back under the water again, helping rinse all the suds from his shaggy hair. Little by little, you felt him relaxing under your soft touches.

Next, you were grabbing the shower pouf you kept there and poured a generous amount of his body wash into the mesh and started to rub it in circles over his chest. You worked over his shoulders, down his arms, his belly, his hips, and then his legs. He let you turn him around to rinse his front as you started the same, easy, methodical motions over his back.

When you finished with him, you did a quick rinse of your own and turned off the water. You reached for a towel and began patting Bucky dry as he just stood there with a lazy, satisfied grin on his face.  You smiled back as you brought the towel up to squeeze as much of the moisture from his hair as you could.

Once in the bedroom again, you helped him pick out something to wear to bed. You strode over to him, clothes in hand, as he lay back on the mattress, making grabby hands at you to come closer.  Once you’d placed the clothes neatly at the foot, you climbed over him and sat on his lap like he was gesturing you to.

His hands were on your shoulders and he pulled you down so your body was pressed against his.  He kissed you softly, tenderly. His hands slowly slid down to your hips, making you grind over his growing erection.

Without another word, he pulled up your hips and angled you just right until you were able to slide down his length once again. This time, it was slow, soft, and tender. You were able to relish in the way he was filling you up, the way you stretched to accommodate him. His hips came up to meet yours in lazy thrusts.

It was almost embarrassing how quickly you were to another orgasm, but you didn’t have it in you to care as he slid one hand off your waist and between your bodies. His thumb had barely touched your clit when you clenched around him once more.  

Your cries were quiet, barely able to make a sound as you came for the third time that night. Bucky worked you through it, this time with gentle touches and sweet kisses. He wasn’t far behind you as he snapped his hips up maybe two, three more times before stilling, releasing in you once again.

You rolled off of him and to your back. He stayed close, curling his big body around yours and rested his head on your heaving chest. He liked to count your heart beats as they slowed back to normal.

You shared only another couple minutes of easy silence before he spoke.

“Everyone treats me like I’m damaged.” His voice was so soft, it was almost painful. “I mean, I am…I know I am…but you treat me like I’m not. Most of the time, I try to do better, to be better, but it never seems to be enough. I still feel broken.”

He shifted back off of you so he could look at you. You scooted down so you were eye level with him and turned to your side, mimicking his posture, hoping to keep him at ease and relaxed and talking.

“I don’t know that I can be fixed. It feels like the extent of the damage is beyond repair. But the only time I have ever felt close to being whole again, to being the same guy I was before I left for the war, before HYDRA turned me into a monster, is when I’m with you. You make me feel like maybe I could have that normal life again.”

Your heart was thundering in your chest so hard that you were surprised he couldn’t hear it. He fell silent for a few minutes more and you couldn’t bring yourself to break the quiet. It was easy; comforting. He had closed his eyes and let his beautiful face fall into a relaxed, sad smile.You’d almost thought he had fallen asleep until he started talking again.

“I know you love me. I can feel it every time you’re with me. I can feel it with the way you are with me. I just…I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to return those same affections like you deserve. I don’t know that I’m capable of loving you the same way you love me, no matter how badly I want to. I don’t know if that’s a part of me anymore.”  

You brushed a stray tear from his cheek before cupping his face. You let your thumb swipe a couple more that escaped before he opened his eyes again to look at you.

“I’ll always be there for you, Buck. Every time you call, anytime you need me, whatever you need from me, I’m always going to be there. I have no shame in doing that for you.”

Only for you, Buck, you thought to yourself. Even if it kills me.

You leave later that night while Bucky sleeps. It’s what you always do. It’s what you know he needs.  He doesn’t ever do the whole night, the sleeping over, breakfast in bed type stuff. He barely lets himself relax enough to fall asleep in your arms.

So, after his breathing has steadied, after his lips fall into that adorable pout that you love oh so much when he’s asleep, you slip from his arms and out of the bed. You place a soft kiss to his forehead and tuck a stray piece of hair behind his ear before pulling on your clothes and walking out the door.

Part 02

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