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targaryenluvs · 5 months

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OUR LITTLE DOVE

pairings: dark!lucy gray x fem!reader, dark!coriolanus snow x fem!reader, coriolanus snow x lucy gray

summary: you reunite with your dear songbird after the games, but it seems the capitol has followed her home, and taken an interest in the two of you. but it seems lucy gray is willing to share you with a certain peacekeeper, even if you aren’t.

warnings: crazy lucy n corio conspiring like evil doers, manipulation, chasing, primal play?? is that what is called idk corio enjoys hunting your ass down, kidnapping, drugging, forced into accepting a third partner?? nc touching, abuse of power (peacekeeper), power dynamics, kinda cheating (lucy n corio), guilt-trip, jealousy, threatening, self doubt and relationship problems, murder, betrayal

word count: 3.0k

a/n: lol i complain about wanting to write fluff but all my good ideas r so dark 😭 someone needs to give me tips on how to write girls cuz i have no experience would be easier if i was gay boooo!!

he was like a shadow, stuck to your back, always.

you’d complained to lucy numerous times that you didn’t feel comfortable around him when she played at the hob, knowing he’d be there, in the crowd. “sweetie, he was my mentor. he helped me so much in the games, i wouldn’t be here without him. you love me don’t you? so you need to learn to love him too, he’s a good friend a mine. i love you and i gotta get to the stage baby.” she explained as she ran around getting herself and the covey ready.

you were always front row. wanting to be as close to lucy as possible. she looked especially majestic tonight with flowers in her hair. as you listened to her sing you’d managed to forget about the certain blonde peacekeeper near the back. but he hadn’t forgotten about you, nor lucy.

you’d left to get a drink and you’d came back to an unfamiliar tune. you usually knew every song being played off by heart but this was new.

Everyone's born as clean as a whistle

As fresh as a daisy

And not a bit crazy

Staying that way's a hard row for hoeing

she sounded as angelic as usual and the crowd around you seemed entranced.

As rough as a briar

Like walking through fire

This world, it's dark

This world, it's scary

lucy smiled at you once, just once. which threw you off since you usually got a bunch. especially during new songs and songs about you. was this not also about you?

I've taken some hits, so

No wonder I'm wary It's why

I need you

so it is about me! you thought as you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to sway to the music and singing. you’d hoped you wouldn’t miss a smile headed your way.

You're as pure as the driven snow

your eyes flew open as you stared at lucy, she was looking past you and to the peacekeeper. to coriolanus snow. you’d always been a rational person, you prided yourself on restraint but that restraint was hanging on by a thread. you wanted to jam a beer bottle into his neck. lucy was your girlfriend not his. and yet he smiled stupidly towards her as she sang and you could feel your heart clawing its way up. best to leave now rather than stay and hear more of the ever so driven man.

your head was spinning as you slumped to the floor, in one of your finest dresses yet worst mental states. of course, something had formed between the two. she was in the goddamn hunger games and he was her mentor. trauma bonding? he quite literally saved her life, coached her and you did what? sat at home and hoped.

hope could only get you so far.

your hope and faith in lucy gray baird was dwindling as her lyrics swirled in your head. of course she loved him. who wouldn’t? the man was undeniably eye catching. a capitol man. but you’d always imagined lucy staying away from the capitol, despising them. but maybe it wasn’t the captiol part but the man part. maybe she wanted a true life, a home, marriage and children and everything she could wish for.

what on earth could you provide her with?

“y/n?” it sure as hell wasn’t lucy calling out for you and you knew that. coriolanus’s reflection was prominent in the puddle before you as he neared. great, you sneered, would love to get to know you mr peacekeeper. please tell me how you stole my lovely girlfriend from me!

your chest felt oh so heavy as you heard his footsteps in the gravel, determined and unwavering as he made his way to your slumped body. “what do you want? you wanna gloat?” coriolanus stopped in his tracks, gloat? “why would i gloat?” you looked up at him annoyed, “rub it in my face. you practically stole my girlfriend from me.” coriolanus laughed. actually laughed and it made you want to strangle him with his stupid dog tags.

“sweetheart.” vomit. you wanted to vomit. maybe choking and dying on your vomit would be less embarrassing then this. why on earth was this fuck head calling you his sweetheart. “fuck off.”

you didn’t see him coming. and you certainly didn’t expect his demeanour to snap. but the large hand tangled in your open hair was a big slap in the face to your unreadiness. “you of all people don’t get to talk to me like that. do you know who you’re talking to?” you could hear his perfect porcelain teeth grinding at your words. god this man couldn’t handle an insult. wuss.

“what the hell is your- ow! problem!” you yelped as he dragged you into an alleyway. “you need to learn how to respect your superiors. if you’re nice to me, i can make your life easier. doesn’t it hurt? not being able to fully provide for your family? seeing them struggle? do you really think disrespecting a peacekeeper is going to help? i suggest you straighten your act and thank me for even looking your way. there are plenty of other girls here.”

but he didn’t want those other girls. he wanted you. you with the teary eyes and messy hair. you who he’d been seeing in his dreams and during the day. you with the kind smile and curious eyes. you who were so sweet and pretty but mean when need be. the y/n who was stupid enough to spit such hateful words at a peacekeeper. but he’d teach you. whether it be with words and lessons or actions and bruises. you’d learn your place, by his side and lucy’s, and underneath. but with such fearful, brown doe eyes watering up infront of him, the girl he’d heard oh so much about from lucy. how could he refrain from indulging?

his hand reached out to wipe away the few stray tears that fell as his left extended towards your right, which was clutching your head, where he’d grabbed you. “shh, let me help you.” your hand slowly retracted as your heart ran a marathon. the man was obviously unstable, going from a deceptively caring man to violent. coriolanus smiled at your actions, and it freaked you out. he caressed your scalp in an attempt to soothe, “good girl.” he cooed as your apparent saviour approached.

“sweetie?” lucy called out to you as coriolanus withdrew from your personal space. he walked over to her and she let him. he held her hand and spoke with, love? his voice was soft and comforting, his thumb again caressing the back of her hand as they talked, whispered, plotted? god knows, all you wanted was to leave.

was this your chance?

you tested the waters, slow and calculated movements as lucy nodded in agreement with him. but by the time they were done speaking you’d bolted.

but you sure as hell weren’t getting far with these two on your tail, poor y/n l/n. a little dove trying to spread her wings but they were bound to be clipped.

your feet were throbbing and begging for you to slow down. but your brain was in charge for once, your heart which yearned for your dear songbird pushed to the side as your head screamed and urged you to go. she was in league with him apparently. her seeing him corner you and not even batting an eyelash. did she truly care for you so little? did she want to rid herself of you? she could’ve broken up with you and let that be it. maybe the games had twisted her head.

even as you believed yourself to be gaining distance from the two you could hear the not-so distant steps of determined pursuit, headed your way. how would they kill you? slow and intimate? hasty and brutal?

“if you stop running now we won’t be mad little dove!” lucy shouted in warning as you felt yourself momentarily slow at her words. traitor. you thought to yourself as your body involuntary listened, she still had an affect on you. “she’s right, we love you, we won’t hurt you. unless we have to, don’t give us our reasons.”

“shut up!” you screamed. god, i know we haven’t talked in a while. last minute efforts right? maybe he’d listen to you, save you from your tormentors. you should’ve kept your head clear, focused on running. focused on your surroundings and if you had, you would’ve noticed the nearing tree roots, thick and protruding from the ground, ready to knock you down.

you crawled behind the tree, trying to catch your breath as your hands worked tirelessly to provide some form of relief to your aching ankle.

crack.

you’d been found. you fucked up.

“our little dove, ever the sprinter.”

his words had you lurching forwards in an attempt of fleeing but lucy’s cold hand on your ankle dragged protests and cries from your throat as well as you, back to them. “you should’ve listened before, we would’ve been nice. given you some time to adjust, but you can’t sit and think for a second can you?” coriolanus mocked as his hand trailed up your un-injured leg, “that’s okay, you won’t be doing much thinking from now on. we’ll be taking care of you, since you obviously can’t take care a’ yourself baby.” lucy’s voice was saccharine, like honey, and her smile was even sweeter. the familiarity and comfort of her presence was intoxicating, you felt at peace on one side and the other wanted to jump off a cliff. she lowered your guard and coriolanus slithered right in.

the prick in the side of your neck wasn’t painful, but their words were. “you’re with us now, we’ll take care of you, we promise.” and you were stuck, stuck with them for god knows how long.

you blinked away the sleep in your eyes, adjusting to the room. maybe they had killed you? in their own twisted way they’d keep you forever, in their memories and soul. coriolanus and lucy’s voices swam around your head and blended together. you were wrong. yay.

“it’s a bit early for katniss, even if it’s one of her favourites.”

“she should eat something better.”

“better? don’t go all capitol on me now corio.”

he was smiling, you could tell.

“never lucy gray. but she’ll be weak for a few days, proper meals will help her regain some strength.”

you picked your head up and looked through the window, the lake was evident.

“alright, you go grab it and i’ll stay here.”

“why? so you can get more time with her? if anyone should get extra time it’s me.”

“now who was her partner first? oh that’s right, me. you’re acting as if i’m gonna pick her up and run away. if you’re that scared than we’ll both go. take her with us.”

coriolanus’s head whipped towards the cabin and you quickly flopped back down on the bed. you shut your eyes as you heard the door creak open. “gosh, doesn’t she look pretty?” lucy asked, knowing the answer already. “so calm, i liked her better when she was crying.” lucy hit him, “coriolanus snow!” he stroked the side of your face and you had to resist from turning your head and biting his fingers off.

“little dove.” your eyes opened again, turning your head his way tiredly. “we need to get some supplies okay?” you nodded as lucy went outside to gather the baskets she’d left out earlier on to dry. coriolanus’s hand dug into your cheeks as he forced you to look at him, “i told you i’d make you respect me. now listen, if you try anything when we’re in town i will never let you forget it. you’ll know who you belong to every single day. maybe i’ll pay your family a visit? an appointment with the hanging tree for being rebels? stealing?”

you shook your head violently as you began to cry, “you don’t want that? didn’t think so. you listen to me and everything will be fine. your family will get daily help and weekly groceries. they’ll never go hungry again. all thanks to their sweet little girl. lucy’s too nice, but don’t think for a second she’ll save you from me. you’re mine and if you try anything.” he leaned in to whisper, “i’ll strangle her with my bare hands infront of you.” his words were meant to scare you, and they did. but don’t you know? coriolanus snow doesn’t need a reason to do bad things.

coriolanus was wicked and ruthless when it came to what he wanted, if you had any hope of trying to get through this then you’d need lucy’s attention and help. so you nodded. “words sweetheart.” you swallowed your pride, your dignity, and you shook hands with the devil.

“yes, i’ll do what you say.” he straightened up, his white shirt a contrast to his dark thoughts.

“y’all ready to go?” lucy questioned as coriolanus grinned, “yes, yes we are.” he lifted you up and helped you dress, you hadn’t realised the fact that you were only dressed in his own white shirt, dress to you. he handled you like you were the most delicate object. as if he wasn’t hell bent on breaking you, over and over again. till you were fit to his standards. the captiol standards. the snow standards.

his, his, his.

with how obedient you were, he figured you’d do well in the capitol. which was exactly where he was meaning to bring you.

lucy walked in front of the two of you as you made your way through the woods. coriolanus’s hand was glued to your waist as he held you close, afraid to let go. you were at flight risk of course. his grip was tight and bruising. lucy’s humming distracted you at times, if you were delusional enough you could imagine it to be the two of you. your brothers far infront and the covey following. after an amazing afternoon at the lake, heading home for dinner, maybe a performance or the night shift.

your daydreaming was interrupted when you clocked coriolanus’s missing hand from your waist, and his arm now around lucy grays throat.

don’t you remember? you’d do well in the capitol! you were his! but not entirely, no.

not with her in the way.

you were frozen in place as lucy clawed at him before reaching out for you. a plea, a cry for help and aid yet you stood stuck in fear. a minute, two. she’d put up a strong fight, especially when you ran towards the two, pushing and shoving at coriolanus to let her go. but again, you fucked up.

here lies lucy gray baird, singer, victor, psycho.

obsessed? madly in love? you couldn’t think of another word, and as much as you wished to forget her, forget how she’d practically allowed another man into your relationship and let him kidnap you. her lifeless face and hollow eyes made your heart clench. but soon enough she was rolled over, thrown in a pre-made hole and buried. she’d survived the games but no one survived coriolanus snow.

“don’t forget what i said. don’t forget what you agreed to. you said you’d do as i say, i’m telling you to get up and follow me. we’re leaving district 12.” your face was painted with confusion as coriolanus clutched your face, “i’m going back, and you’re coming with me. don’t ask questions, just do as i say.”

and you did.

when he had you say goodbye to your family, a courtesy, a privilege he’d granted you. you kept it short and sweet, no questions just hugs and false promises of return.

when he ushered you onto the train and he wanted you to sit and be silent, you did.

through his time at the university, he wanted you close to him, living with him. and you did.

through his presidency campaign he wanted for you to charm sponsors and entice newcomers. you did.

when he wanted to marry you in a grand spectacle infront of the captiol and dress you up, you did as he asked.

when he held you down on your wedding night after tearing your dress off, biting and marking you down all over, pushing you down to your knees and took you all over the house, asking you to give yourself to him as if he didn’t take you anyways, you did.

you had no idea why at this point.

for your family? who hadn’t reached out in so long, even when they promised to talk to you every day? coriolanus had them all arrested, punished and hung for inciting riots and uprisings.

for your friends whom listened to your concerns of the capitol peacekeeper who hovered and didn’t make you feel crazy? each of them ended up dead in many different ways, hung, shot, a mugging gone wrong.

you didn’t know at this point and when you looked in the mirror you didn’t recognise the girl who stared back. a captiol sheep, dressed up in the finest silk dresses and slick heels yet the filth underneath the finery, jewels, and makeup weighed you down. each time he touched you, kissed you, fucked you, it felt like a peace of yourself was thrown away.

and as you clutched your swelling stomach, you couldn’t help but feel pity for baby number four.

maybe you’d grow up and find love.

maybe i’ll be able to take you all away from him.

maybe we’ll heal.

you thought, but in the back of your head, a little voice wouldn’t shut up.

you’ll always be his little dove.

#dark!coriolanus snow x reader #dark!coriolanus snow #dark!coriolanus snow x fem!reader #lucy gray x coriolanus #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #coriolanus snow x reader #lucy gray x fem!reader #lucy gray x reader #lucy gray baird x reader #dark!lucy gray x reader #dark!lucy gray baird x reader #hunger games x reader

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ilovetoxicfictionalmen · 8 months

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MISS ME ?

Pairing - Jackson Rippner x fem!reader

Summary - Jackson was assigned with assassinating you, but how could he kill such a sweet thing like yourself?

Warnings - 18+, noncon, dubcon, stockholm syndrome, smut.

Word count - 1.3k

Your apparent premature death was a tragedy to the world. A sudden shock to hear a promising young woman to have been deemed dead by a shipwreck with a handful of casualties. It was predicted that you would live a fulfilling life, by being the daughter of an established politician. You were goal driven, focused on your studies and wanted to help change the world for the better. That was all gone now, but you were never even on the fucking boat.

When Jackson Rippner was assigned with assassinating you for revenge against your father, the first thing he wondered was who would want to kill a sweet thing like yourself? The more he studied you, the more he desired you. It was only reasonable to have a taste of you before he killed you. It’d be like throwing away a freshly baked cake.

But he became infatuated by you when you fought, swore, cried and begged underneath him. The way you were able to make him come so fucking hard, not to mention the way he was able to make you come so fucking hard, sealed a new fate for you.

Jackson was never one to renegotiate, but he made an exception for you. For free of charge on Jackson’s sole behalf, and an unwritten waiver that if you were to ever be found alive, the client and Jackson’s company had no involvement, you could live. He thought he was doing you a favour, you were not dead because of him. But you weren’t exactly living either.

Your prison was a modern cabin in upstate New York. Jackson chose this home many years ago because he liked being secluded, he didn’t trust people and valued his privacy. It never really crossed his mind that he would share his humble home with anyone in the near future.

“Sweetheart?” Jackson called out, shutting the garage door behind him and dropping his suitcase.

He pouted his lips as he looked around the main living area for you. He climbed up the flight of stairs and headed straight for the bedroom, a smirk on his lips. You weren’t on the bed, but in the corner of the room all curled up.

“Oh baby” Jackson sighed as he slid off his jacket. You looked up to him with tear stained eyes. “Come here” he murmured, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Hesitantly, you got up and gradually went to him. You straddled his lap, because he would have it no other way and he caressed your flustered cheeks.

You couldn’t help but to be relieved when he did come home. Isolation can drive people insane. He liked not talking to you when he was gone, just to make you go that little bit more crazy that what if he never came back. He thought it would make you acknowledge him more, he was right.

“Oh, how I missed you baby. Sorry I was gone for so long, business just got a bit out of hand. I was able to manage though” he explained as he petted your hair, admiring how you were wearing his shirt like always.

“I-I missed you too” you stuttered out. Jackson smiled and you could feel his cock harden underneath you. You were hesitant to ask, “you’re not leaving again, are you?”

“No baby, I’ll be staying for a while. I deserve a break” he answered softly, his lips brushing over your ear.

You didn’t reply, but instead laid your head onto his shoulder. Jackson couldn’t help to have a smug look on his face by thinking of the progress your relationship has made. At first, you despised his touch. He had to take a bit of time off work just to break you down, train you. Christ, he didn’t expect you to have so much dignity and fight in you. Not that he thought that was a bad thing.

There was only one occasion where you almost managed to escape. You managed to slip out of your restraints and successfully unlocked the door just for the alarm to go off. You bolted for your life, but Jackson was quick to catch up. Typically, you tripped and rolled your ankle. Jackson made sure to drag you back to the house by your injured ankle. Where he tied you up tightly to the bed, stuck a vibrator in you and left you for over an hour. Afterwards, he fucked you and your overstimulated cunt a couple of times just to really remind you not to ever pull another stunt like that again.

When Jackson did have the trust in you to be left alone, he wasn't hesitant to threaten you by killing your whole family if you tried to hurt yourself whilst he was gone. Yeah, it was nice to think about how far you guys had come.

“Baby, show me how much you missed me” Jackson murmured as the sensation of you pressed against him.

You sluggishly lifted your head and leant in to kiss him. Jackson’s arms snaked around your back and he fell back onto the bed. Your hips humped his slowly and controlled. You were rolled over onto your back as Jackson began to unbutton his shirt.

“Tell me, did you miss me? Or my cock?” Jackson teased as he pulled off his shirt and threw it aside.

“Both” you sighed, gradually unbuttoning your own shirt.

“Oh, lucky us” he grinned as he pulled out his hard cock.

Jackson pulled off your shorts and panties with ease and aligned his cock to your entrance. He didn’t even have to consider spitting into his hand, he knew you were already dripping. With a stern push, he was inside of you. A harsh moan left your lips in the process.

“That’s a good girl” Jackson grunted as he went on to find his pacing, “taking my cock so well. God how I fucking missed you” he kissed your jaw.

You hated him. Every single thing about him, you despised. Mostly, you hated how you depended on him. Jackson Rippner was all that you had now, so you couldn’t even hate him anymore. Every breath you took was for him. Your life was his for the taking.

“Fuck” Jackson purred by your ear. “I can feel how much you missed me” he mumbled, your walls clenched against him in a rhythm.

Your legs wrapped around his snatched waist as he started pounding into you. Jackson was deeply groaning with his forehead pressed against yours, your hands pinned above your head by his. You started crying out when he hit your sensitive spot. So he kissed you to make you feel better.

“Can you finally see how I saved you?” Jackson smugly asked, his hands now on your hips. There will definitely be a bruise in the morning.

“Yes” you exhaled, your arms wrapped around his back, nails dug into his bare skin.

“Do you love me?” Jackson asked, slightly unsure if he even wanted to hear your answer.

“Yes” you breathed, he grabbed your chin to make you look at him. “I love you Jackson” you admitted, knowing it’s what he wanted to hear.

Jackson didn’t say it back, but it was clear he did, in his own little fucked up way. His smile was soft and hopeful. Unexpectedly, he came inside of you, a broken moan leaving his lips.

“Fuck, I’m sorry baby. I just missed you so much” he apologised, slowly pumping himself inside of you, you moaned softly.

Aiming for your sweet spot, Jackson started pumping rapidly against you. You bit your lip as you quickly came undone around him, your walls pulsing against his sticky member. Laying defeated in the bed, Jackson pulled himself out and smiled at your mixed fluids on himself.

Jackson fell onto the bed next to you and pulled you into his arms. “You’ll never understand how happy I am to have decided not to kill you” he murmured by your ear as you laid in an unfazed state.

You looked up to him, “so am I”.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #jackson rippner #jackson rippner smut #jackson rippner x reader #red eye 2005 #cillian murphy smut

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pupcuck · 5 months

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CAROL OF THE BALLS !

ft. leon s. kennedy x fem!reader x dante (dmc)

tags. i made them brothers, cucking, threesome, age gap, size kink, ass play, leon eats his cum so incest, cum eating, creampie, p in v

note. SORRY FOR BEING LATE AGAIN i have been tweaking :3 but um whatever! ignore typos or i’ll detonate :3 feedback n rbs much appreciated !!! ooc bc dante is literally a well-meaning old man but i have to make him sleazy for porn without plot purposes sorry!! i also cut the smut short bc. bc i wanted to get this out so sorry if it’s jolty 😭

tumblr has started to remove fics that use tw non-con, tw incest and any nsfw tags in general. for this reason, as i’d like my fic to appear in the tags so i can have the same reach as other authors, please understand that this fic contains dark content under the cut. reading this comes at your own risk.

Your love for Leon, much to his dismay, is no match for your pursuit of cock. His poor girl, you suffer from this awful disease at such a young age, the kind that tears a family apart - wandering hands they call it. In Leon’s terms, it would be something more akin to cock-driven. That’s your motivation, and if you see one you like, you’re gonna get it. Fuck, you’d do rocket science on the spot for a nice, fat cock. Unfortunately, it just so happens to be his older brother that you’ve set your eye on. And Leon’s older brother is the most shameless asshole since, like, god, Mark Antony? That guy was obnoxious, right? Fucking his best friend’s wife and all.

Dante is that obnoxious but amplified tenfold, if you can even imagine that. He’s got a big mouth to match his stature, and, you guessed it, he’s got one hell of a dick stuffed into those tacky leather pants. And you’re taking a very obvious gander at what sort of goodies he’s got tucked away. You’re playing footsie with him under the table for fuck’s sake. Leon can tell by the way you’re slouched too far back in your seat, but it’s mainly ‘cause he dropped his fork and when he lifted the table cloth, he found your foot rubbing along Dante’s inner thigh while his fingers toyed with the frilly cuff of your sock. Bringing you home for Christmas was a mistake. You’re too precious to give up and too hard to reign in. He should just store you away in a jar of some sort, poke a few holes in the lid so you can breathe, a bird cage perhaps, or maybe a crate?

Knowing you, you’d manage to get your paws on Dante either way. A cage would be no problem, just slip it right on in through the gaps! A makeshift gloryhole if you will. Honestly, he’d prefer you to pick Vergil over Dante, at least the guy has it all together, at least he’s not a washed up loser who can’t pay his bills, at least he’s not Dante. You’d think as the younger sibling you’d turn out better, right? It’s like baking a cake, the first time it’s shit, and the second time it’s better. Not soft in the centre, not burnt to a crisp on the sides - just don’t work like that around here. Instead, Leon’s parents had the stronger, taller, hotter, bigger one first, then little Leon to top it all off. Little ‘cause he’s 5’10 with insoles only.

Oh yeah, you can ask around town. Leon Kennedy? That guy’s decent, nice face, nice smile, nice guy. Dante? One that walks around like his dick is weighing him down, fuckin’ pornstar face, can tell if a girl likes him when she’s got her ankles behind her head – yeah, I know him, he broke my parents marriage up, and he fucked my sister, and my auntie, yeah, the one that came over for the holidays. I don’t really mind ‘cause he gave it to me after too! Oh, no way, I couldn’t do that with Leon, he’s more of the settle down type, don’t you think?

No one has actually said that and yes, he is more of the settle down type, but Leon has had his fair share of flings, and contrary to popular belief - missionary is not the only position he knows. He knows how to put a girl on her knees, no stranger to it. Maybe, just maybe, his dick is the problem. It’s not small, not quite big, it’s adequate, or perhaps it’s inadequate and that’s why you’re offering to wash the dishes alongside Dante. Leon hasn’t seen Dante do a household chore since 1976, that’s when Leon was in the womb if you didn’t know. Meaning he hasn’t ever seen Dante do a single chore, not even pick up his own underwear the fucking slob. And don't even get him started on you. The girl who struggles to get the vacuum working when Leon’s not around, then you do it half heartedly for five minutes before complaining about your back aching.

He’s pacing outside the kitchen like a guard on duty, listening in on your conversation with Dante, it’s absolutely thrilling. Leon couldn’t think of a better way to spend his time, he just loves to hear his girlfriend flirt her way into his brother’s pants.

Oh, your hands are so big, Dante! Wow, they’re so much bigger than mine. My goodness, Dante, you could pick me up, like, sooooo easy! I wonder what else is big! Has your hair always been that colour? No, that’s so not true, Dante, doesn’t make you look old at all! It suits you, don’t look a day over twenty. Duh, of course I’m joking, I like ‘em old anyway. Do you babe? You should go ahead and suck his old man cock, sure Dante wouldn’t mind, and it’s not like Leon has any say. You’re young and fickle - this is what he deserves for dating a girl your age. What more do you know than dick?

“It’s okay, he won’t wake up,” Your voice is muffled in his ears, distant despite you being less than an inch away from him. He shifts, feels around for your warmth, clasps an arm that’s way too jacked.

Leon’s brother is remarkable really, he turns over after a struggle with the bedside lamp, sees Dante’s teeth gleaming, your little hands splayed flat across his chest. He’d go at him, make a feast of it, he wishes for the tearing of Dante’s throat to be biblical. God, Kane and Abel have nothing on them. “You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.” His digs his nails into hardened muscle.

“Please, baby,” You beg him, beg is an exaggeration, from you it’s a command. Like, not Oh, please, Leon! May I suck and fuck your brother while you lay beside us? More of a Please, shut your mouth and let me have this, Leon. I haven’t had good dick ever since I started dating you.

He falters, “No, babe,” Leon shakes his head, lip curling upwards in both disgust and wonderment at the boldness of your request. “No, are you crazy?”

“C’mon, Leon,” Dante pouts, and it’s disturbing to see a grown man with no upper lip do that. “She just wants to have a little fun.”

“Don’t— don’t get involved, this is between me and her.” His attempt at assertion is only met with amusement.

“Leon, please?” You bat your lashes. Beat. His heart hammers in his chest. Then Leon closes his eyes like a good boy, he’s always been great at taking orders. Whatever. Fuck his brother to your heart’s content.

“He not treatin’ you right, sweet thing?” Dante murmurs into your neck, his thick fingers parting your slippery folds, rubbing deft circles on your twitching clit.

He grits his teeth so hard they squeak. Leon treats you perfectly well. Surely, saying otherwise—

“No, Dante,” You pout up at his brother, a small hand curled around his wrist as he pushes his fingers knuckle-deep into your slick cunt.

Stupid bitch. Leon has never been inclined to call a woman a bitch, total lie, but Claire told him it’s not appropriate, and Claire is usually right about most things. Not right now though, girls are fucking brutal.

“No?” Dante coos, “My little brother can’t please his girl? Can’t get this little cunt soaked?” There’s a wet smack, and you gasp.

“Don’t do that.” Leon can’t help himself, it’s like he insists on making a fool of himself. “She doesn’t like that.”

“Do it again.” You plead, “Dante, please, feels so good.” The crooked smile Dante gives him is humiliation at its finest.

He draws his hand back, spanks your cunt, the fleshy part of his palm mashing against your clit. “You don’t even know what your girl likes.”

“I do.” Leon’s chest aches, his dick aches even more, feels like it’s about to over-inflate and pop.

“Bet you like it rough, don’t you, babe?” Dante asks, presses his nose into your neck, licks a stripe up your jugular.

“She does not.”

“Yes.” You nod crazy like a dashboard bobblehead.

Dante raises his brows when he glances sideways at Leon, “He’s not givin’ it to you is he? You want him all up in your guts, baby, don’t you?”

“Yes, yes, god, please,” You whine, clit thrumming beneath Dante’s fingertips. “Want it here.” You bring Dante’s hand to rest on your abdomen, “wanna feel you here, please.”

“Dirty little bitch,” Dante coaxes an orgasm out of you with his fingers alone.

“Don’t speak to her like that.”

“I’ll speak to her how I want,” He retorts, “She likes it, ‘s why you’re gettin’ me all wet, isn’t it, baby?”

“Mhm,” Your eyes follow his every move, and Leon has never seen you so enthralled during sex. He’s used to you laying on your back like a dead girl, legs over his shoulders, letting out the occasional grunt of discomfort.

His head dips low, the sheets are long forgotten, crumpled at the foot of the bed. Dante’s big hands spread your cheeks apart, licks into your cunt, flicks his tongue over your clit— and you moan like you never have before. Back bowing off the bed, covering your mouth with a balled-up fist, chest heaving.

“That good, baby?” Dante hums, his teeth scrape over your clit when he pulls back the hood, and you squirm.

“So good, so good— ‘s so fuckin’ good, god!”

Alright, can’t be that good, now you’re just putting it on to piss Leon off. You’ve never sucked his dick well enough for him to moaning like that. Then again, his dick doesn’t have a million nerve endings. The sounds Dante is making are downright lewd, unnecessary even, you’re dripping all over his face, his chin wet and shiny with your pussy— then he makes the jump. A move that’s bold even for a dude as outrageous as Dante, his pink tongue follows the natural trail from pussy to asshole. Licks the puckered rim till you relax, and there’s no resistance from you whatsoever. You’re just letting this grimy bastard eat your fucking ass? Even Leon hasn’t gotten that far, not that he’s asked, not that he’s ever thought about it - something about the second hole just feels wrong.

Dante spits on it, manages to get his thumb in nicely, then he sits up, leaves you empty. “Just a little girl takin’ big things, aren’t you? How am I s’posed to fit in this tight cunt without breaking it?” He tilts his head to the side, eyes droopy like he’s drunk on pussy juice alone. Probably is. Shit is potent. Especially when you’ve been nose-deep.

His brother only smiles, gives a pointed look to Leon’s dick straining against the fabric of his boxers, the sticky wet patch. “That’s why she wants cock so bad, huh?” Leon is not small. His dick is just right, it’s fine, it’s sufficient. There’s nothing wrong with it, but he cups a hand over his bulge to hide it from Dante.

Dante shucks off his pants, and yeah, Leon really is the little brother in every sense. He might as well just kill himself at this point, there is no winning against a dick that fat. Shit’s so big it’s hanging downwards, so heavy it can’t even hold itself up. Some big fucking balls to level it out. Jesus, is he seriously admiring his brother’s dick right now? Listen, it’s just got some real weight to it, and Leon has to say he’s impressed. Only seen this breed of horsecock in porn.

“Gosh, Dante,” You’re lovestruck, cockstruck, a trembling hand reaches forward to cup his heavy balls, then wrap it around the base, and it’s honestly so big your thumb and middle finger struggle to meet.

“Don’t throw her around like that, oh my god.” Leon frowns, catches your head from knocking against the headboard when Dante manhandles you onto your front. “Just be careful.” If you told Leon he’d be watching his brother fuck his little girlfriend from behind with a thumb in her ass, he’d say, yeah, sounds about right. Some shit that would happen to a guy like me.

“She can take it.” Dante says, then he’s sheathed inside with a single glide of his cock, no resistance whatsoever. You’re that wet. Dripping down your thighs. God, he’s never seen you get so worked up. “Can’t you, babe?”

“Yes, please, just give it to me please, Dante,” Now that’s begging, not that shit you were doing earlier. “Wan’ it so bad, please, might die, Dante.”

“Alright, okay, baby, only ‘cause you asked so nicely.” He snickers, wraps his arm around your front and then fucks into you so hard the bed rocks. Headboard hits the wall. Stuff you see in movies. God, his poor girl, you’ll be ruined once Dante’s done with you.

“Oh my god, oh my god, Dante,” You mewl an endless string of expletives, arch so your hips push back onto his fat cock, and your eyes roll back into your head, and there’s spit trickling down your chin— Holy fucking shit. It’s like watching a porno play out. Hell, it might very well be a porno. C’mon, where’s the camera, is this Dante’s new side gig? Is this keeping his lights on, his fridge full, his water running? Wouldn’t put it past him.

Once he creams your hole, Dante’s quick to spread you apart with his big hands, you’re still gaping. “Go on, Leon.” He says very simply, smiles the way he always does when he suggests something outlandish. “Clean her up.”

Leon’s never eaten pussy from the back, it’s impolite. Crude. That’s the general consensus, right? And Leon’s a feminist, he’ll eat a pussy that sits itself on his face, he’ll snuggle up between a thick pair of thighs - but from the back, oh, it’s just obscene. Still does it though. Eats his brother's thick cum from your hole, sucks on your swollen clit, laps till there’s nothing left that’s dirtier than his own tongue. Then he goes to bed with a hard dick and the taste of his brother’s cum in the back of his throat. He’ll sleep it off.

#leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy imagine #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #resident evil x reader #resident evil leon #dante sparda smut #dante sparda x reader #dmc dante smut #dmc dante x reader

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erynaster · 1 year

Text

Ten Minutes

Summary: Wednesday allows you to cuddle her for a short span of time. It goes as well as you'd expect.

Word Count: 1,378

Warnings: None

Pairing(s): Wednesday Addams x Male!Reader

A/N: Cute lil idea I had this morning. I hope I did well on this one!

Minor note: Reader possesses healing abilities for the sake of the story's events.

"Ten minutes."

You can hardly believe your ears.

"Sorry?" You ask.

Wednesday takes a deep breath, as though swallowing her pride before speaking.

"You get ten minutes. No more, no less." Her expression is unreadable, but the intensity of her stare gets the point across.

"Why so generous all of a sudden?" You chuckle. You and Wednesday had hardly even touched one another in the past, owing to the latter's utter distaste for any form of physical affection.

Her gaze grows stern.

"In light of the recent events that have transpired, I acknowledge that I am in your debt." Her gaze remains unchanging.

You shrug.

"If you're talking about that incident in town, then—"

"She stabbed you, Y/N."

You wince, rubbing the spot where a mugger had driven a knife through one night when you and Wednesday were making your way home from the Weathervane.

"It's not a big deal, Wends. Healing factor, remember?"

Wednesday furrows her brow.

"That doesn't make it any less of a sacrifice. She could've gotten me, and yet you took the hit for the both of us."

You shrug.

"It was the most logical decision to make, wasn't it? I mean—"

"Do you want this, or not?" Wednesday's voice carries with it a hint of impatience and coldness as she enunciates each word like a curse.

You raise your hands in surrender.

"Ooohhkay, I give. But why cuddling? Of all things, I'd never expect you to—"

"It's the most logical choice." She huffs in annoyance. "You haven't stopped pestering me for weeks about wanting to."

You laugh. "Aww, you do care."

Wednesday frowns, her gaze growing even sterner.

"If you're going to keep this up, then the deal is off."

"Okay, okay." You chuckle nervously. "So... how do you want to start?"

She suddenly falls silent.

"Bed. Now." She stands up from her chair, walking towards her bed situated in the corner of the room. Without a moment's hesitation, she clambers atop the mattress and lays there, her eyes still on you.

You can feel your heart beat a little faster.

"You're... really sure about this, huh?" You chuckle nervously.

She raises an eyebrow at you.

"I hope you aren't expecting an invitation to join me, Y/N. Because you aren't getting one." She deadpans, her eyes hardly betraying any emotion whatsoever.

You shrug, before hesitantly approaching her bed and climbing atop it as carefully as you could. You were feeling a little apprehensive about the entire situation, but that uncertainty and fear was overshadowed by the excitement of being able to finally hold your girlfriend in your arms.

You settle in next to her, your head sinking into a nearby pillow. Her eyes still haven't left you, as she seems to be taking your form in with unfettered concentration.

You clear your throat. The silence was growing unnerving.

"So... how do you want to begin?" You ask.

"You tell me." She speaks at last, and for a brief moment you can see a bit of uncertainty flash in her eyes.

Seems like you're the one who has to take initiative in this situation.

You edge a little closer to her, taking care not to move too fast for fear of upsetting/scaring her off. Once you two were laying about a few inches apart, Wednesday does the unthinkable.

She moves closer to you.

She slips an arm around your waist as as she inches closer to you, her intent stare hardly wavering. In her eyes, once you managed to look past the abyss of darkness and woe, you could see that she was afraid.

But of what, exactly?

"Hey... you okay?" You whisper.

Wednesday says nothing; her deep, abyssal eyes continuing to take you in with something akin to curiosity.

Taking her response (or lack thereof) as a 'yes', you decide to be a bit more bold in your attempts to initiate physical contact with her. You hesitantly slip an arm around her midsection, looking into her eyes for confirmation whether you should continue.

She still says nothing, though you can see her cheeks flush a faint shade of pink at your action.

Time to take things up a notch.

Swallowing your growing feelings of uncertainty, you bravely reach out for her hand, while your other hand finds it's way to her back. She doesn't protest, still maintaining eye contact with you without ever blinking once.

Feeling more confident, you give her a patient smile, pulling her close to you. Now that you two were only a few inches apart, you use a free hand to reach out and cup her cheek in your palm.

"Y/N."

You stop at the sound of her voice. It's not urgent, but there was still something in her tone that suggests otherwise.

"S-sorry. Was I going too far?" You ask nervously, retracting your hand in fear. The last thing you wanted was to make your girlfriend feel uncomfortable.

She seems to ponder this.

"No." She says after a while. "You may continue."

"You sure?"

"Yes, I am." She gives you another one of her trademark stares.

You nod, swallowing your nerves.

"Okay then..." You exhale shakily, reaching out for her cheek once more. She seems okay with the physical contact, showing no visible signs of wanting to pull away from your loving embrace. This was something new for her, you could tell. Wednesday was not above pushing you away should you get too close for comfort.

"Should I... keep going?" You ask timidly.

She doesn't respond. Instead, she breaks eye contact for a brief moment, seemingly considering her options at present. Without warning, she leans in to snuggle deep into the crook of your neck, which takes you by surprise.

You can feel your face start to heat up.

She presses a light kiss to your neck, her lips tracing over your skin in a chaste, reserved manner. This action causes your cheeks to turn even redder, and yet there was nothing you could do about it other than mouth wordlessly at her unexpected display of affection, which in all honesty felt way out of character for someone like Wednesday.

"W-Wends?" You can feel her nibbling playfully at your skin, the action sending shivers up your spine.

As she pulls away to get a good look at you, you can hear her whisper softly.

"What happens in this room stays with us, and us only, Y/N." Her voice is like silk, yet threatening all the same.

"What happens if I tell?" You whisper back, smirking.

"Then I will personally carve out your heart from your chest and feed it to you."

"Okay, noted."

Wednesday seems satisfied with your answer.

Abandoning all uncertainty and fear, you reach out to fully embrace your girlfriend in your arms, caressing her as lovingly and gently as possible. You can feel her heart beating against your chest as she rests against you; and though her expression remains as emotionless as ever, you could tell that she was enjoying this immensely.

Wednesday breathes deeply, seemingly taking in your scent as she further presses her body against yours. You can hear her whispering sweet nothings into the crook of your neck as she presses little chaste kisses to your skin, one after the other.

"So... I take it that you enjoy cuddling now?" You chuckle softly, cheeks still flushed pink.

She pulls away for a moment to stare at you coldly.

"Sorry." You chuckle nervously. I just—"

"Time's up." She pries herself out of your hug and topples out of bed, still giving you a condescending stare.

"You had your fun. I had to take those ten minutes out of my writing time." She huffs impatiently. "We're even now."

"Well, that was anticlimactic." You laugh sadly. "Thank you, though."

She nods curtly, before heading over to her table to position herself in front of her typewriter.

"Can I ask you something?" You call out to her as you hop onto the floor.

She turns around. "What is it?"

"Can we do this again sometime?" You ask hopefully.

Wednesday doesn't answer for about a minute.

"... Yes."

And with that, she turns around to work on her novel, while also hiding the fact that a smile was creeping up her now-reddened cheeks.

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x male reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday x reader #male!reader #male reader #male!y/n #self shipping #wednesday x male reader #wednesday x y/n #wednesday addams #wednesday x you #wednesday x gn reader #wednesday addams x gn reader #gn y/n #gn reader #gn!reader

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stinkysposts · 2 months

Text

My first post on here! Just randomly got bored and decided to write a little something. Feel free to comment any feedback, this is my first time writing fanfiction and posting it ^^

18 year old Satoru x 18 year old reader

What happens when gojo brings home an unexpected surprise…

Not proof read!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gojo is an idiot. You know that. You’re used to his antics, foolish things he does without thinking. But even after all that you still managed to fall head over heels for the white haired sorcerer. How you haven’t been driven away yet, nobody knows. You’ve managed to brush off most of his tomfoolery, but there are some things that you just can’t ignore…

You’re lounging on the couch in you and Satoru’s shared apartment. With all work done for the day you’ve finally been given the rare opportunity to relax and spend some much needed time doing your favorite thing, absolutely nothing. Unfortunately for you though, the silence is quickly broken by the front door swinging up. You look up to see who exactly had the audacity to disturb your time alone and you see the sorcerer himself, beaming down at you from the doorway, thought you don’t notice the hint of nervousness in his eyes, hidden behind his black, round frames.

“Oh y/n, I have a lovely surprise!“ He smiles cheekily, you feel like you’ll never get used to his mischievous yet sunny attitude.

“Yes Satoru? What have you decided to bestow upon me today?” You reply sarcastically, rolling your eyes at him despite not actually being all that annoyed. As boisterous and obnoxious as he can be, he’s also great company…most of the time.

He notices your eye roll but decides to continue anyways.

“Well, since you asked so nicely, I’ve brought…something to show you…” You couldn’t help but notice the way his voice got more timid and that he trailed off. With your curiosity peaked, you peek over at him from your spot on the couch.

“Well? You’ve got me curious now, I’m waiting.” You look over at him expectantly. He quietly shuffles out of the way, revealing a little boy, no older than six, standing in the doorway where Satoru previously was. You chuckle nervously trying to process what exactly you were looking at.

“Umm….Satoru? What is this? What am I looking at…?” You stare in disbelief at the young boy. He has raven black hair and what seems to be a permanent scowl on his face.

“More like who!” He replies, a playful tone evident in his voice. “This little guy right here is Megumi Fushiguro, cute isn’t he?” As soon as he hears the word cute leave Satoru’s mouth, Megumi’s scowl intensifies and he crosses his arms over his chest. Satoru sees this and smirks.

“…Satoru, you have five seconds to start explaining why in the hell you brought a whole CHILD to our apartment, where you got him from, and what exactly you’re planing to do.” You could feel yourself getting more and more stressed out by your boyfriend. He could be spontaneous at times, sure, but you never expected something like this to happen.

Satoru perks up nervously, not wanting to find out what’ll happen if took more than five seconds to start explaining.

“Well…listen babe, I’m gonna be straight with you, this kid needs us-“ He’s interrupted by Megumi’s scoff and raised eyebrow.

“Oh please, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself!” You almost snicker at that, a tubby little six year old with crossed arms and a tiny scowl.

Satoru raises an eyebrow at this. “Seriously? You think you can take care of yourself with no adults around? Do you even know how to tie your shoes??”

Megumi proceeds to bend down, untie his shoe, and retie it. He stands up straight and looks at Satoru with a cheeky smirk.

“You were saying?”

Satoru rolls his eyes and looks back over at you.

“So…don’t freak out but…we’re kinda gonna be taking this guy in"

You jump up and immediately drag Satoru into the kitchen.

“What?!?! Are you crazy?! We’re both eighteen, how are we supposed to take care of a child!!” You look at him incredulously and despite trying to keep your voice low, you couldn’t help the slight rise in volume. Sure you two did have your own apartment, but that didn’t mean that you could just take in any random child off of the street. Satoru gently places his large hands onto your shoulders and looks you in the eye.

“Look, I understand why you’re upset. I didn’t give you any warning or heads-up to prepare for such a big life change. But I just couldn’t sit back and watch this kid’s life spiral. I mean, that child is the son of Toji Zenin, and since he’s no longer around…there’s nobody to care for Megumi. I couldn’t, in good conscience, let that kid go off to the Zenin Clan. Who knows what they would do to him. You understand me…right?” He looked at you with a sincere, almost pleading look, practically begging for just an ounce of sympathy from you. In truth, he was right. Now that he had explained the circumstances around this situation, it was hard to argue with him. There was also the option of sending Megumi off to an orphanage, but what would become of him then? He could be in the system for years with no real home to call his own, and if he did manage to get adopted, what would happened if his cursed technique manifested and he was outcasted for being able to see and do things that others couldn’t? The more you thought about it, the more Satoru’s actions made sense. But still….

You looked up at Satoru with a pensive expression written across your face.

“Satoru I see your point… but still! You can’t just bring children here without telling me first! If you had told me, I would’ve had time to prepare. Now I’ll have to quickly throw something temporary together so that Megumi has a comfy place to sleep tonight…” Satoru’s eyes lit up at your words.

“Wait…does that mean you agree? We can actually keep this kid??” You can practically see an imaginary tail behind him wagging excitedly. You sigh tiredly, your relaxing evening long forgotten by this point.

“Yes, we’re taken him in. It may be irresponsible…but I think it’ll work…right?” You looked at Satoru optimistically, hoping for reassurance. In all honestly, there was still a small cloud of doubt in the back of your mind but as long as you had him, you’d hopefully be okay.

Later, while you’re preparing dinner, your way of trying to make a good impression on Megumi, you hear some bickering from the living room. You peek your head in and see Satoru and Megumi practically wrestling over the TV remote. You sigh and shake your head, knowing that this is only a taste of what’s to come.

I feel so corny rn ngl 🥲

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru #jjk fanfic #kid!megumi #dad gojo #jjk megumi #megumi fushiguro #kid megumi #teen gojo #I feel so corny ngl

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willowser · 1 year

Note

Can you write ex husband Bakugou a happy moment please? 😭

LMAO poor thing !! 🥺

it's after coming back from your weekly dinner. you'd driven to the house to begin with, so that the three of you could all ride together, and now that it's over, you're meant to be taking your son back home with you.

but katsuki manages to wrangle him from his car seat with little resistance and—your baby looks so cute with his head tucked into his dad, thumb in his mouth as he blinks sleepily. and yeah, you could easily strap him into the seat in your car, but now he's disgruntled and grouchy from having been woken up, and once you get home you'll have to get him up the stairs and into his pj's and—

so you offer to let him stay another night, just so he doesn't get too worn out. katsuki's not gonna say no, especially not when you follow him inside and into your son's bedroom, watching as his little jeans get tugged off and replaced by something a little comfier, and then they're going through their little routine:

it's important to katsuki, to talk to his son. he'll sit at the head of the bed and speak to him, in his low and soft voice, calmly asking if he's okay. if there's anything he needs. if there is anything he wants to talk to his dad about. if he's done anything to upset him. and then katsuki will tell him goodnight, that he loves him, and that his room is just down the hall if he needs anything.

he's a far different man than he was when your son was first born, when he would scream and cry and katsuki didn't know what to do or how to help. and there were times when he was crying just to cry, and your husband couldn't stand it, couldn't stand to have to listen to him knowing there was nothing to do but hold him.

"what the fuck 'm i supposed to do? tell me what he wants! i don't—i can't tell, i'm not cut out for—"

when he stands from the small bed, he joins you in the doorway, switching the nightlight on before bringing the door as you both step out, cracking it just a little.

and you're both left in the silence of the house, staring at one another in the hallway, and—he's a different man than he was when your son was first born, when being with him was harder than being without him.

now, you think, watching as he fiddles with the bare spot on his finger where his ring once sat, maybe it wouldn't be so painful.

"i guess i should head out," you whisper, offering him a soft smile when his eyes dart to your lips. katsuki goes a little stiff—like always—when you move in to hug him, wrapping your arms tight around his neck as you squish your body to his.

and your little baby looked so comfortable tucked into him, and so you do, too; face against his neck, feeling more than hearing the hitch in his breath, the beat of his pulse in his throat.

"thank you for dinner," you tell him, and then when he only nods: "he's so lucky to have you as his father, you know?"

it disarms him—completely; things of this nature always have. father's day has never been anything but challenging to him, struggling to keep a lid on all the emotions he's stuffed away. his first little handmade card, signed by your son with a splotchy blue handprint, had him in the bathroom with the water running for nearly fifteen minutes.

katsuki doesn't say anything, but dissolves into you, the tension in his body slipping away as he presses his face into your hair and holds you even tighter, hands splaying wide across your back to keep you close.

now, you think, maybe it wouldn't be so hard.

#okay okay i'm going to quit clogging up the dash for the night with this LOL #ending—for now—on a hopeful note !!!#our boy deserves some love 🥺🥺#that first father's day he reemerges from the bathroom with a red face and swollen eyes #sniffing and acting like he doesnt know what you're talking about LOL #cw children #✿ willow writes #✿ ask willow #✿ thoughts: bakugou #✿ theme: dad bakugou #✿ theme: ex husband bakugou

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lazyneonrabbitt · 3 months

Text

Daryl has never been so proud.

After managing to get her into a car, which presented itself to be quite the challenge they had driven out to her last living space and took all the pelts and items she had left behind.

It was clear as day she was terrified of the vehicle but she soldiered through, wrapping herself and her son into their retrieved pelts for some comfort on the way home.

She did it scared.

"Where ya wan' these?" Daryl stepped through the doorway with a stack of pelts in his arms, staring at her pointing up the stairs and walking to show him. He followed suit.

The room she had been using for the last few days was still relatively empty besides a bed and a cabinet, but she wanted the pelts there, and the bed gone aparently.

"So, bed out." Nod.

"Mattress too?" He got a look in return, not really sure what it meant so he kept it up against the wall for now. "So what's next? Wanna check the community stash fer somthin' ta wear?"

Another short moment of quiet before she nodded. She wasn't comfortable around the people yet, had tried to meet some but quickly hid when even one too many came up to her. "Ya got me witya, ain' no one botherin'ya."

And so their first official trip around the community was a fact. Olivia had given them space on Daryl's request and promised to watch her as she dug through the inventory of clothing and fabric items and after having picked out a bunch of stuff and having wrapped herself in a thick, soft flannel Daryl had called Olivia back to check on their selection and went back home again.

It wasn't strange they caught a bunch of stares from original residents, seeing the strange new woman walking around and barely knowing how to function as a human. Even after being explained the situation they still weren't happy with this feral person freely walking around.

Daryl watched her pull the flannel closer to her body, head ducked low as to hide and put an arm around her. "Ignore them. 'M happy yer here so it don' matter what they think." She pressed further into his side, as close as she could while she held her son and Daryl carried their haul.

Another little victory for her.

Back home she quickly went back upstairs again, trying to get help with putting everything away. "Yeah I suck at foldin' this. Ya gotta ask Carol."

He knew she didn't want to. While Carol had offered her things she was still wary. Which he found a little weird with how easily she seemed to have stepped up to the gate and interacted with Rick. Probably adrenaline and the dire need for help.

"I'll come witya, but yer doin' the askin'." A grumble was all he got as reply as she picked up the newborn again and handed him over.

So now the three of them were on their way to two houses over. Her up front with Daryl at the porch steps with his son in his arms, which Carol found an absolutely beautiful picture.

"What brings you here, sweetie?" Carol stared at the scared woman and paid attention to her motions and noises, trying to get at least some gist of what she needed.

"I gotta come with you?" Nod nod. Carol nudded in return and agreed to follow, giving Daryl a look in hopes he'd tell her more but he shook his head. "Ain't helpin' er. She's gotta learn." He only shrugged and continued to play with the little one in his arms.

"You're good at that." She commented on the way he was so calmly handling his child he didn't even know he had a week ago.

Back home upstairs Carol was led to the pile of clothes, watching as she grabbed a shirt, flopping it into a somewhat folded mess and held it out to Carol who now understood why she needed help. "Yeah okay I see. Daryl sucks at folding laundry so you asked me huh." A proud smile made its way into her face as she nodded. She was pleased to be understood by someone else than Daryl.

"Okay so I'll show you and you watch first, okay?" Nod nod.

And so Daryl was seated on top of the nest of pelts with his son, absentmindedly chatting and bonding while the women were working through laundry lessons. "Shirt. Easy." Carol's voice was soft and clear as she talked through the steps of folding different items and watched her steps being repeated in a well enough matter. "You got this! You learn quick." She smiled widely with her compliment. "Now, don't be afraid to come by for more help, okay? I'm a friend."

Daryl said that word a lot. Friend. She knew it was a good one, it held a good feeling from long ago before she lost it all.

"--anh yoo" it felt weird to use her voice, but she knew she had to eventually. But when Daryl shot up at the sound she spooked a little. "Didya just.. talk?" The energy coming off both humans was that of pride and happines. So much it warmed her on the inside. She gloated and happily nodded. "Anhcyoo" she repeated herself and it was clear that she meant 'thank you'.

"Look at ya sayin' yer words." He had a hard time containing his excitement at her progress, and Carol couldn't help but give him a knowing smile.

"'M' so proud o' ya, wolfie."

~~☆☆☆~~

A/N: After some time there's a new one!

[Pt.1] [Pt.2]

#sometimes I write #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #she wolf

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rubydubydoo122 · 20 days

Text

Jason gets de-aged because I've seen fics of Tim or Dick being de-aged, and Bruce losing his memory, but no one has realized the potential for angst if you de-age Jason.

Bruce couldn’t do this. Sure he fights criminals on a daily basis, he’s fought aliens, hell, he’s been to space, for crying out loud. But he could not look at his dead- undead son. He could barely look at Jason as a 21 year old, much less looking how he had weeks before he died.

“Bruce, I know this is hard, but–”

“No, Dick, you don’t, because you were off planet to even know what was happening.” It was a low blow. Bruce knew that. He knew he was burning bridges, but he wanted to be alone. He didn’t want his kids to see him break down. He could fix those bridges later.

For a moment, Bruce could see the fiery 20 year old Dick desperately trying to be let loose, but then Dick glanced at his siblings, “Why don’t you guys go upstairs, while Bruce and I talk things through.” Dick wasn’t asking though, and they knew.

So the four of them headed up the stairs, leaving Bruce with Dick and Alfred.

“Are you going to slap me halfway across the cave again? Are you going to take away my keys again? We’ve been down this road before, Bruce. It wasn’t fun for either of us.” Dick leaned against the table and crossed his arms, “The only reason I’m not screaming at you right now is because I know that I have to be here for those kids. Cass, Tim, Steph, Duke, Damian . They need me here, but Jason? Jason doesn’t need me , he needs you . He wants you.”

Bruce thought about all the things that had driven a wall between him and his second son. “No he–”

Dick groaned, “B, when he saw me come out of the Batmobile instead of you, I could see his expression crumble.”

“When he realized you were in the cave, he was so eager to see you, Master Bruce. He was hurt when you barely acknowledged him.” Alfred placed a hand on Bruce’s shoulder, “The boy upstairs is not the broody Red Hood nor the Robin who died in that warehouse yet. He’s the child you brought into this manor to make sure he was loved. The boy, who despite all the darkness around him, still managed to shine brighter than the sun. We’re not saying this situation will be easy, Lad, but you have to try. For Jason.”

“I don't know if I can .”

“Jesus Christ. I forgot you don’t speak Emotions . Fine. I’ll give you a language you understand.” Dick went over to the computer and opened a new Mission planner “Mission: Fun Sized Jason. Rule number 1, Don’t make him upset. Rule number 2, don’t brood more than usual. Rule number 3, Don’t let Jason know something’s up between your relationship with him because that will probably break Rule number 1. Mission Objective, keep Jason happy until we can get him back to full size. Alfred is allowed to add rules and Objectives. Understood?”

And suddenly, Bruce had a little empathy for Damian’s Robin under Dick’s Batman. “Got it.” Bruce gave his oldest son a slight smile. “Honestly, this might be my hardest mission yet.”

Dick and Alfred shared a look, “You’ll do fine, Master Bruce.”

“I’m gonna check up on everyone, I can come back down once I’m done, if you want.”

“I’ll be fine, Chum, I’m just going to call Zatanna and finish putting a bit of info in.”

Dick nodded, “Alright.” He made his way to the stairs, “Goodnight Alfred, Goodnight Bruce, tell Z I said hi.”

Dick’s first destination was the kitchen. It was usually the first place Cass and Steph went after patrol. Because Steph grabs a midnight waffle for her ride home.

Though when he got to the kitchen, it was just Cass sitting on the counter with a mug of tea in her hands. She tilted her head, the question of are you ok clear as day.

If Dick tried to lie, Cass would just see through him. He sat down next to her, “Everything went well with Bruce, it’s just that…”

“It’s strange, conflicting. Seeing Jason.”

“Yeah.”

“He is a cute child.” Cass rested her head on Dicks shoulder. And Dick rested his hand on hers. “Tiny.”

“Yeah,” Dick chuckled, “Like no one would’ve expected Jason to be as tall as Bruce.”

They sat together in silence until Duke came into the kitchen, and Dick patted the space next to him as an invitation.

“I’ve been thinking, if you, or Bruce, or even Alred, need me to keep Jason company while you take a moment to work through… memories, I’d be happy to do it. I don’t have any history with him, we’re close enough to the same age.”

Dick patted Duke’s shoulder, “You’re a good brother. Just don’t let Bruce throw him on you too much because I’m trying to get him to try .”

“Maybe it’ll be easier for Bruce after he gets over the initial shock. Even Damian was shocked. He didn't even try to stab Jason. He was wearing Jason’s jacket.”

Right! Damian! And it was strange. He was having a very different reaction than Dick had expected. Dick had to talk to him, but first “Did you get a picture?”

A grin spread across Duke’s face. “I already sent it in the groupchat.”

Dick hopped off the counter, “Lovely. I’m gonna go check on him. And then I’ll check on Jason.”

“Anything you need us to do?”

“Um.. yes, there is one thing.” Dick paused for effect, “Go to bed.”

Damian was leaning on Titus in the corner of his room, with Alfred the cat in his lap. It was a strange revelation that his Akhi was his wayward brother all along. Yet, it also made perfect sense. They both were in the League, and Todd had said something about mother taking him in. He just did not expect Todd to be Akhi . He didn’t even think that Akhi was still alive. One day Damian had been drawing next to him and the next he was gone. Akhi had two modes; Stay still, or protect. He would immediately fight whoever Damian was supposed to spar and pull him out of reach of any attackers. Akhi would hold Damian while mother was busy, or sit next to him, or follow him if Damian started to wander too far. Yet he rarely ever spoke. Maybe that’s why he never drew the connection between Todd and Akhi. Because even though Todd could be silent if he wanted to, he spouted out the signature Robin quips like second nature. Or yelled at father, taking shot after shot, barely giving father a chance to speak. And above all else, behind Todd’s eyes you could see the calculations, you could see him taking in his surroundings or contemplating risks he was willing to take in the moment, you could see him playing out plans in his head to see every possible outcome. Whereas Akhi had alway had a far off look. Like his mind was never really there.

There was a knock at the open door, Dick leaning on the door frame, “Are you ok, Damian?”

“Tt.” He started drawing swirls into Alfreds fur, and then smoothed them out.

Dick moved to sit next to Damian. They sat in silence, though it felt like Damian could hear Dick staring with concern.

Damian spared a glance at Dick, “Todd spent time in the League. At Nanda Parbat. Under my mother’s care. With me.” Alfred’s fur was suddenly a lot more interesting than it had been minutes ago, “I didn’t even know it was him, not until a couple of hours ago. I’m the son of the greatest detective, and I didn’t even realize that my Akhi was my brother.” It was making him feel young, seeing Todd like this again, “I thought they killed him, but I- I guess they put him in the Lazerus pit after that, and then he couldn’t come back, because he had to come here, but I wish mother had– Todd, He protected me, Baba . It was only for a little while, but he protected me. He showed me kindness.” Damian met Dick’s eyes which were slightly glossy.

“Well, that does sound like Jason. He’s always had a soft spot for kids.” Dick let out a wet laugh, “He was like… your Guardian Angel.”

“That was horrible Richard. Not funny at all.” Yet Damian could feel a soft smile pulling at his lips, “But yes. He was.”

“It’s his Bruncle instincts.”

Damian frowned, “Bruncle?”

Dick grinned “Brother-uncle. Since you see me as your Baba .”

he groaned and shoved Dick out of his pet cuddling area, “Nope. That’s it. You do not get any more speaking privileges for the rest of the day.” though he could feel a warmth spreading across his chest.

“Come on-”

“Nope. Bye! Bye!”

“But–”

“Goodnight, Baba .”

And Damian could see Dick completely melt, “Goodnight, Bibic.”

The first thing Jason did after he stormed upstairs was grab his journal from the hidden drawer in his dresser. Screw Bruce, he was going to figure out what happened to him.

The only problem was the dates only went to April 25, 2018. He didn’t even finish the notebook. The entries didn’t seem like something was wrong–

Sheila Haywood .

There was a gun pointed at his back as betrayal and shock sunk into his stomach. “I lied.”

A blonde woman turned away from him while lighting a cigarette.

He read through the page. Sheila Haywood was…his mom? But what about his Mami? The one who raised him? Does that make her his step-mom?

Jason scrambled back to the drawer to take out a pen and flipped to the next page. He was going to figure this out.

First off, Bruce was a lot colder. Like close to Kelvin cold.

Second, all the scars. There’s a certain amount of scars that made sense for whole vigilante gig, but the amount he had was closer to the amount torture victims had.

Third, If Ms. Haywood was his mom, is Jason in her custody now? Well, he’s 20, so probably not currently, but did he have to leave Bruce? Is that why his room is pretty much the same?

Fourth, Why was he at the League of Assassins? If he asked Damian would he give him a straight answer?

He heard footsteps coming down the hall, and almost immediately jumped up. And then relaxed when he realized they were Dicks, and they were stopping at the room before his.

He crept closer to the wall to try to catch the words.

“...But I- I guess they put him in the Lazarus Pit…”

Oh.

Guess he had his answer to number four. Though why would he need one? Did it have to do with number two? Maybe number two should be number one, but he’d already written in pen.

That also probably answered why his eyes were more green than blue. And the white streak. It did feel a bit too emo for him.

He heard a laugh come from the other side of the wall and felt a twinge of jealousy flare in the pit of his stomach. Sure, he and Dick had their good moments, but it wasn’t usually that easy. There was still tension that loomed over any attempts of brotherly bonding. Sometimes Jason wishes Bruce actually introduced him to Dick before he took up the mantle of Robin, because maybe then they’d be closer brothers.

“Goodnight, Baba.” And just like that a wave of guilt washed over him because he had thoroughly misinterpreted their relationship. Jason honestly thought Damian was Bruce’s. They had very similar facial structures.

And then there was a knock at the door, before it slowly opened, “Hey, Jason–”

“I didn’t realize you were Damian’s dad.”

Dick just gaped like a fish, “I– what?”

“I was under the impression Bruce was the kid’s dad, baba.” Jason swatted Dick with the back of his hand.

“Oh.” Dick laughed, “No. He’s Bruce’s. He’s also twelve.”

“So?” Jason shrugged, “You’re like, 30. It’s possible. And why else would he call you Baba?”

“Stop calling me old! I’m 27! Also, your math makes that barely legal.”

“‘Barely legal’ does not stop Talia Al-Ghul.” Jason frowned. He thinks he was 18 when that happened. “Hold up, I’m not 18 yet.”

Dick was suddenly standing ramrod straight, “Excuse me, what?”

That was his scary voice. Abort, abort, abort , “Why was I in the Lazarus Pit?”

“How much of our conversation did you catch?”

“I zoned out after Lazarus.”

Dick crossed his arms and huffed, “No, we’re going back to Talia–”

“Is Bruce depressed because he lost custody of me to Sheila Haywood?”

And that seemed to send a slap across Dick’s face, “How do you know about Sheila Haywood?”

Jason crossed his arms “I’m a detective, Dick.”

Except so was Dick, and he immediately spotted the journal on Jason’s bed. “It was in your journal?”

Jason nodded.

“What’s the last date in there?” Dick sat down on the edge of the bed.

Jason went to go sit next to him. “April 25, 2018”

Dick nodded, his normally clear blue eyes looked stormy.

“Something bad happened, didn’t it?”

Dick looked like he was contemplating something, and then turned to face Jason, “I’m only going to tell you this because I know if your older version was here he would tell you.” Dick took a deep breath, “You would say, “I ain’t tellin’ you shit, you don’t need to know.” You would do that while leaning against a wall or something.”

Jason blinked at Dick, because that buildup was rude. “I wouldn’t say that! Also, it’s me . I would tell a younger version of me every moment of my life. I’m pretty sure an older version of myself would too.”

“Look, Jason, I was in space at the time. I don’t know all of the details, and Bruce never felt like filling me in on it.”

“What about the report?”

“Ok, yeah, I’ve seen it, but you know the reports are nothing like actually being there, or hearing the story. And it’s never something you or Bruce want to talk about. You’ll probably get the memory back once you’re back to full size.”

Jason huffed and pulled himself into his sheets. “You’re no longer my favorite sibling. You are dead last. Getting my hopes up that you would give me an answer. That was just cruel.”At least he knew there were reports on the bar computer about what happened. He could sneak down there and figure this out himself.

“Eh, fifth place is not that bad.” Dick stood up, “or are we counting Stephanie?”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re still in last.” Jason turned over to face Dick as he was leaving, “Though, I do accept bribes.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Goodnight, Little Wing.”

“‘Night, Dickiebird.”

#jason todd #batman #batfam #dc comics #dick grayson #bruce wayne #damian wayne #robin jason todd #duke thomas #cassandra cain

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fallingintolife · 1 year

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Secrets and Sickness

Request: I've been sick for 5 days now and besides the fact that I feel like crud it's really getting me down. So it got me thinking I bet Sam would take care of his girl, you know just doting on her until she's better. So if you have the time or want can you tell us about Sam taking care of his girl after getting a real bad cold?

Summary: The boys are on a hunt when you start to feel sick…but of course instead of telling your boyfriend Sam, you try to handle it yourself…Spoiler-That doesn't go so well…

Pairing: Sam Winchester x reader

Warnings: A little bit of angst because Sam is worried, and talk of a cold

Word Count: 1,704

A/N: Anon, I'm sorry I'm just getting this to you but I hope you are feeling much better by now 💕 I'm sending you all the love and hugs along with some nice caring Sammy 💕

It started with just having the sniffles at first; running and stuffy nose, normal allergy/ weird weather changes like symptoms. So when Sam and Dean went off on a hunt for a few days, leaving you at the Bunker, you were just excited to have some time to yourself. Until day two of being home alone when you woke up with your throat feeling so sore and raw, like a dragon had blown fire down it, causing even just swallowing to be highly painful. Throughout day two was when your cough started. It was like a tickle at first but than escalated into feeling like something was stuck in your throat that you just couldn’t get out. So now, here you were, on day three, five in the morning coughing your lungs out, while trying to get up out of bed to get water, but feeling too weak because of being dehydrated. That and probably because of the fever you most definitely were running. Sam had told you last night that him and Dean would be home by lunch time today so you only had about six hours to go.

You knew that if you had told Sam you were sick he would have driven through the night to get home to you but you knew it wasn’t that serious. I mean it was a cold! Everyone got colds! You were a hunter and you’d be damned if you were going to complain about it, especially to Sam and Dean. So you allowed yourself two more minutes on the floor before getting your shit together. You were fine.

Sam knew the minute he had called you last night and you didn’t pick up, but instead texted him that something wasn’t right. Whenever you two were ever apart you always wanted to talk to him on the phone so he immediately knew something was up. He had told Dean about how you were acting and had asked if they could just drive through the night so he could make sure you were okay. Dean didn’t hesitate, and continued to drive.

Dean liked you and Dean didn’t truly like nor trust many people, but he did like and trust you.You made Sam happy, so automatically that made Dean happy. Not that he would ever admit it to you but he liked having you around just in general. You made the best pie, could even hold your liquor as well as the boys, and also you just cared. Not just about Sam, but Dean too and that meant a lot.

You and Sam had been dating for the last two and a half years but known each other for an additional four. You and Sam just clicked. You both knew each other’s deepest darkest secrets but still loved each other which definitely meant something. You loved each other, truly.

As soon as Dean parked Baby, Sam was already up the stairs and in the Bunker.

“Y/N! Hey honey, we’re home.” He froze mid step down the hallway to the bedroom you both shared when he heard a loud cough, and then realized you were in the middle of the hallway leaning against the wall.

Sam didn’t remember how he managed to get to you but next thing he knew you were in his arms. You were sweaty which had to be because your body was burning up. You were running a fever, a high fever at that. “What the hell Y/N? Jeez you're burning up…” Kissing your forehead, while picking you up he headed toward you and Sam’s bedroom.

You tried to argue, to say something but you didn’t have the energy, and to be honest you weren’t really even sure if Sam really was here or if you were hallucinating from your fever. Once he got you into the bedroom, Sam quickly stripped you out of your sweat soaked clothes as he waited for Dean to grab the thermometer that he had yelled for as soon as he had heard Dean enter the Bunker. Just when he had gotten you into one of his t-shirts was when Dean entered.

“Shit, kiddo.” Dean grumbled in disapproval, as he handed Sam the thermometer. Luckily, he had grabbed the quick reading forehead one.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

102.8

Sam ran his hand through his hair. How long had you been running a fever and how long had it been his high? And who knows… What if it was even higher? This wasn’t good. He could tell by the sound of your cough and the small rattle sound that came from your chest when you breathed that if you didn’t already have pneumonia it was headed that way. Another loud wet cough racked through your body.

“Make sure she drinks this and get her to cough all that shit up. I’m gonna make a run into town to get her some medicine. I shouldn’t be long.” Placing a cold wet washcloth on your head, while placing tissues, a trash can, and a bottle of Gatorade next to you, Dean quickly made his way to the Impala, keys already in hand.

With a sigh, Sam gently maneuvered you so that you were laying in-between his legs and against his chest so he could support you. Placing the cold washcloth back on your forehead, you whined in protest and began coughing.

"I know, I know, baby. It's alright. Here, sit up. I need you to cough all that up." Sam helped support you as you coughed up all the stuff that had been sitting in your lungs into the trash can. Rubbing your back gently, he continued to praise you until you lean back against him. He sat the trash can back down and opened the Gatorade for you. "That's my girl. Here, I need you to drink some of this okay? There we go. Thank you baby." He pushed your sweat hair out of your face as you drank down the lemonade. After you drank about half, he sat it back down.

"Sammy?"

You croaked as you looked up at him with groggy, sad eyes. He knew you didn't feel well and as much as he wanted to lecture you about not saying anything now wasn't the time. Right now you needed rest and you needed Sam to help you feel better.

"Yeah, love?"

"I don't feel good." Sam frowned as he kissed the top of your head.

"I know, baby. It's alright, I'm here now. I've got you. Get some rest okay? I'm not going anywhere, I'll be right here when you wake up." You snuggled into his chest too exhausted to say anything else.

Dean had come back after twenty months with a slew of medicines for you. Sam had gotten you to take them and then he and Dean took turns (after Dean insisted…) to make sure you were getting a new dose every few hours. You didn't even wake up until noon the next day.

You woke up with your chest and throat killing you. You guessed it was from the coughing. As you rubbed your face wondering when Sam and Dean would get home was when you realized that your head was most definitely not laying on a pillow. You let out a groan as you covered your face with your hand. So you weren't dreaming. They really were home. You tried to cover your cough when you felt Sam chuckled.

"Hey, there's my girl. How are you feeling?" He was smiling down at you as he pushed your hair back, partially to comfort you and partially to make sure your fever was still gone. You avoid eye contact as you mumbled, "I'm good. I'm sorry I worried you…" Sam frowned. He gently sat up, you still in his lap, as he looked at you. You tried to put your face into his chest, but he carefully moved your chin upwards for you to look at him.

"Hey, it's okay Y/N. I mean, yeah I was kind of concerned when I saw you laying on the floor when I got home…" He let out a nervous chuckle, as he ran his other hand through his hair. You tried to move your face away from him but he gently held your face still. "Why didn't you tell me you were sick, honey?" You just shrugged, still looking down as your eyes filled with tears, a cough building in your chest and began to cough. Sam frowned in concern and hugged you gently to him. He didn't understand why you wouldn't tell him that you were that sick…

After a few minutes of silence you looked up at him.

"It's just a cold. I mean I'm a hunter Sam. A stupid little cold shouldn't be able to affect me like this. You and Dean have gone through so much worse…" You looked at as another coughing fit began. Sam looked at you uneasily, as he grabbed some water for you. As you drank, Sam spoke.

"Y/N, everyone gets sick. Even me and Dean, and this isn't just a cold baby. You definitely have bronchitis. Luckily Dean and I got home when we did so you didn't end up with pneumonia. It doesn't matter what Dean or I have gone through, sickness can kill too…" You watched Sam as he spoke and could see how scared he truly was. You put your water bottle down, and gently put your hand on his face.

"I hear you. I'm sorry. Next time I'll tell you." Sam gave you a small smile and kissed you nose, which made you giggle and then cough. Before you laid back down, Sam gave you your next dose of medicine before you snuggled into him. You noticed he had already pulled up a new TV show you both had been wanting to watch. You smiled at him and he just pulled you closer into him.

Twenty minutes in and you were already out. Sam didn't care though. He loved you and he was going to take care of you. He was going to show you that, I mean he had already told you he wasn't going anywhere, and he meant it.

#supernatural #spn #dean winchester #sam winchester #anon request #spn fic request #spn fic requests open #spn fanfic request #supernatural fanfic #spn fic #spn fanfic #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfic request #supernatural fic requests open #sam winchester x reader #loved writing this one 😊#i loved writing a loving caring Sammy #fluff

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sinorim-pisani · 5 days

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Ok but like!!

Danny Fenton's Obsession \!(*0*)!/

I know a lot of us in the fandom like to describe Danny's Obsession as having to do with protection, or having to do with space. I love it! It's a good choice for the building blocks that the show gives us!

But.

(This is a long "but" folks, strap in)

(It also may be half incoherent, my thoughts were just thrown all over this post)

I had a little idea biting at me, for a possible fic that I may or may not be attempting to write, about an Obsession for Danny.

In this metaphorical fic, the trio (sam, danny, tucker) are all in the portal accident together, and their Obsessions are formed based on their strongest thoughts at the moment of their half-death. Sam's is fleshed out, I've moved the Protection Obsession to Tucker, and Danny's has been puzzling me.

I'm thinking of basing his Obsession in the idea of Success. It might not make too much sense, but hear me out:

I'm planning on having Danny's strongest memories and thoughts be about how badly he had wanted to see his friends' dreams come to life, and how badly he had wanted to see his parents (initially) succeed in their research. Of course, this would be very brief and emotionally driven, but these are the under lying thoughts I want to be working with.

Danny and Sam and Tucker all experience the accident, and Danny dies thinking something like "They'll never get to chase their dreams again" (this is a work in progress T.T) Boom, an obsession with seeing others chase/succeed with their dreams.

Could there be any component of this that applies to Danny himself? Is it too much to add in a note about how Danny is also thinking about how he won't ever get to make his family proud again? Then shove that into the Obsession and make it so that he's obsessed with seeing himself succeed alongside others?

The angst side of this would be that he doesn't have much to succeed at outside of the ghost fights, because no matter how hard he tries he can't seem to balance school life and ghost life, and he's this close to flunking out, being expelled, disappointing his parents and Jazz - He's only succeeding by winning the fights. Perhaps also by something silly like playing and winning in Doomed? It becomes super difficult for him to manage achievement for himself, and fighting to protect the achievements of everyone else. Maybe he starts to seek the fights out more? Which would be Super Dangerous for him, and everyone?

Or would it be better to have it only apply to others, so that there is even more of a self-destructive flavor to his character development? Like a "Why are you wringing yourself out like this, fighting and failing in school and continuing to live in a home that harms you?" "Because this is the only way I can think of to help my parents (ANGST ALERT) and my friends and all of the people that live here succeed in life" kind of flavor.

And then when the ghost fights come along - fighting the ghosts would technically be "satisfying the Obsession", because he now has the chance to physically protect the dreams of the people of Amity Park, and he consistently chooses to fight and to burn out, because he loves his friends and his family and he loves this community and he just wants them to have the dreams he can't have anymore.

IDK I just like the idea of Danny having an obsession that's different from protection and space at first, and this is what my brain came up with!

#danny phantom #danny phantom fanfiction #in my danny phantom era #danny phantom lore #IVE NEVER WRITTEN A FIC BEFORE PLEASE HELP #I just want to also participate in the cool fandom media T.T #I would love to know your thoughts on this!!#I don't even have a name #just three pages of a rough draft and really shitty outline #We'll see if anything comes of it #danny phantom word blast #infinite realms #ghost zone #ghost zone lore #danny fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #the everlasting trio will definitely be halfas together mark my words

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aylish91 · 1 year

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A Gaurdian of the Deep

What’s this? A terrible no good month has finally allowed me a bit of inspiration for a written piece?

This was heavily inspired by @skumhuu ‘s Leviathantale. Want a little Reader X Giant Leviathan? It’s not much but here ya go. haha.

Now multi chapter story on ao3 here.

Y/N. No matter what anyone might tell you, I want you to remember something for me. Always give thanks to the sharks. They are the servants of the guardians and these are their waters. Ask and give thanks for safe passage and make sure that whenever you take, you give back.

I want you to remember… If you can remember, then maybe one day, even after I am gone… something might be given back in return…

~ ~ ~

You knew better than to brave the waters while the storms raged. Your boat was too small to counter the combination of waves and wind. You also didn’t have enough light without the full moon guiding your way, the lantern and boat’s lights hardly bright enough to shine a few feet ahead. But you knew the way and had forced yourself to make the trip anyway.

One last offering to the guardians before you were driven from your home island to the mainland. You owed it to your grandmother and yourself to give one last time.

You almost didn’t make it.

You certainly wouldn’t be making it back.

Though you had gotten to your favored rocky platform, the chaotic waves had inevitably slammed your tiny boat into them, effectively throwing you out and sinking the vessel. Your body had been next. For a few terrifying minutes, you were thrashed against the rocks until you were able to somehow pull yourself onto one of the rocky ledges to escape. You don’t know how you managed to keep a grip on the strap to your cooler...

It was dark, you were covered in cuts and bruises, and your leg had definitely been broken at some point during the ordeal. You were alive, but for how long, you were not sure.

It was raining and uncharacteristically cold...

It was while lying there, offering displayed dutifully in front of you, that you saw it. Or rather, him.

He was just as your grandmother had said. An enormously large being from the depths of the ocean. One of the guardians of your island, body a writhing mass of tentacles with the upper half of a skeleton. The entirety of him was as black as pitch with an occasional sheen of bioluminescence that matched the orb of a light inside his uncovered socket.

He was absolutely magnificent...

With a voice as deep and dark as the ocean, he spoke to you, asking all manner of questions from why you had continued to give offerings despite his absence, why you came today, and many more seemingly meaningless things. Naturally, you obliged him, speaking with the guardian as if he were an old friend.

You told him of your island home, who your grandmother was, and how much you owed the being for everything he’d done for your island and your family. You spoke of the company that had taken over and was forcing everyone away, and of how this was meant to be your last offering. You also spoke of all the things the both of you loved. All this and more, well into the night.

The longer you spoke, the closer his massive form came. Other flashes of light could be seen in the water beyond him, but you had paid them little mind. It wasn’t until your body had stopped shivering and an overwhelming heat overtook you, that you knew your time was coming to an end.

It was getting harder to focus...

“Your life is waning...”

You hummed, finding you had to force your eyes open again. “I suppose it is... Do you think, if I had been more like my grandmother, that we could have met before? Talked together, just like this… You are, beyond my words.”

A tentacle slowly wrapped around you, pulling you from the ledge. It felt nice against the sudden heat. You couldn’t help but caress the smooth appendage. They were so soft, yet undeniably strong... Another wrapped around your wrist when you were pulled closer to the guardian’s body and everything shifted.

“What is it that you wish, little fish? What would you have me do?”

You did your best to look up into that beautifully bright orb of his, smiling as your body naturally relaxed. Your words were barely above a whisper.

“Being able to see you has been enough. I should be offering what’s left of myself to you... So, please. Take it. My soul is yours...”

Your breath was rugged and your sight was leaving, but you could feel the way your body was gently squeezed, his breath rushed over you. Something brushed against your ear as another breath prickled your neck while you were transferred to what you assumed were his hands…

“You shouldn't offer such a gift so freely little fish. Though you are innocent and kind, I am selfish and greedy. I cannot help but find you too enticing not to accept...” His voice was a rumbling purr.

You were too far gone to reply, limply laying within his hold. As you felt the both of you sink, another voice spoke from the darkness, warm and bright.

“Brother, shall I—”

“No. I have decided. I will do it myself.”

There was a soft chuckle. “Of course, Nightmare.”

You never felt the water wash over you.

Leviathan Master List Grand Master Post

#My writing #leviathantale #Leviathan AU #undertale #undertale au #nightmare #nightmare x reader #dream #nightmare sans #sans #x reader #reader insert #guardians of the deep

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jbuffyangel · 3 months

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Always Laurel: Arrow 1x20 Review (Home Invasion)

The love triangle pendulum swings violently in the other direction as Oliver makes a decision that breaks Tommy’s heart and destroys Diggle’s trust in him.

Source: @htbthomas

Does Oliver always choose Laurel? If yes, then is that a good thing?

Let’s dig in…

Merlance and Lauriver

At this point in the first season, you have probably formed an opinion on this love triangle. You are either Merlance, Lauriver, a plague on both their houses, or just don’t give a crap. All choices are valid. Everyone knows where I stand.

What I think we can agree on is this love triangle is toxic. Toxicity, I feel, that is being driven largely by Oliver Queen. But we’ll get to that in a minute. First, we need to discuss the choice Oliver makes.

Laurel is representing the Moore family and suing Edward Rasmus, an investment broker, for stealing their life savings. Rasmus hires Gunn from Angel (that’s what I’m calling him. I know his character has a name, but I don’t care) to kill the parents, but their son Taylor manages to escape. We don’t actually see how Taylor escaped. It looks he jumped out a twelve story window, but whatever.

Laurel volunteers to be the child’s temporary guardian, so Taylor stays at her apartment with Tommy. This leads to a beautiful Merlance moment and one of my all-time favorite Tommy scenes in the series. Little Taylor is grieving the loss of both his parents, so Tommy offers him some advice.

Source: @bifelicitys

Colin Donnell’s delivery in this scene is just the right mix of sadness and loving comfort. We can see the kind of father Tommy would be and it’s a beautiful sight to behold. If Laurel Lance is not in love with Tommy Merlyn already then she certainly falls in love with him in this moment.

I wish we could just leave them here forever. Safe in the cocoon of their stable, loving, and supportive relationship.

But we can’t because of Oliver.

Tommy and Laurel have lost one crucial aspect of their relationship because of Oliver - honesty. They are both lying. Laurel has failed to tell Tommy that she’s been having “friendly” lunches with Oliver (re: see last episodes “I don’t want to be on an island anymore” speech). And Tommy is keeping the biggest secret of all – he knows Oliver is the vigilante.

Source: @htbthomas

Gunn storms Laurel’s apartment to finish the job on Taylor. Tommy throws himself over Taylor’s body and I friggin swooned. Someone woman needs to give this man a baby! The daddy hotness is too much to take.

Laurel shows some impressive “daughter of a cop” moves when she breaks out the shot gun.

Unfortunately, she didn’t keep more than one bullet in the chamber. Why she didn’t check the gun the minute she got home I will never understand. I swear, this woman sometimes.

Of course, Oliver is there in the shadows as The Hood to rescue Laurel, Tommy and Taylor. Now that Tommy knows Laurel and Taylor are targets, he advises Quentin they should stay at the Queen mansion. They have wall to wall security and more importantly The Hood lives there.

Tommy: We both only want is best for Laurel. And right now that is to stay close to the Oliver. Trust me.

However, the first thing Oliver does when they arrive is leave to help Diggle track down Floyd Lawton, which infuriates Tommy.

Tommy: You are the reason why we’re here and trust me that wasn’t easy to admit.

Oliver assures Tommy the bodyguards at the Queen mansion will be more than sufficient to protect them, but when push comes to shove, he abandons his promise to Diggle to stop Rasmus. This didn’t stop Gunn from going after Taylor again at the Queen mansion. The bodyguards ended up being worthless and a hoodless Oliver Queen had to kill Gunn with a fire poker.

Was Oliver needed at the mansion to save everyone’s lives? YES. But that went down after the Lawton sting operation. Did stopping Rasmus in any way deter Gunn from going after Taylor again? No. Gunn kills anyone who has seen his face – including Rasmus. Oliver couldn’t have known that though. I’m not denying Oliver is juggling a lot of balls this episode. He has some tough choices to make, but the problem is he’s not being honest about the reasons behind those choices.

Felicity: Couldn’t you be friends with someone less complicated than your ex-girlfriend who is your ex-best friend’s current girlfriend?

It’s a lightly made comment about Oliver’s relationships outside of the bunker, but Felicity’s gentle jab packs a big punch of truth. The more Oliver says Laurel is just a friend the less anyone believes him. It’s crap. Oliver clearly has more than friendly feelings towards Laurel and he does absolutely nothing to conceal them. In fact, he’s pretty damn brazen about it.

Let’s talk the lunches. It ultimately is canceled because of Laurel’s meetings with the Moores, so Oliver meets them when he arrives at CNRI. But he comes back to Laurel’s office after they are murdered to see if there’s anything he can do.

Initially, Tommy tells Oliver his help is not required and a phone call to check on Laurel would’ve been more than sufficient. He didn’t need to stop by in person. Tommy is being very territorial and rightfully so. The vibe ain’t vibing. Then Oliver casually not so casually tells Tommy about the lunches with Laurel – which she has failed to share with her boyfriend.

Why is Laurel lying to Tommy? A lie of omission is still a lie. If she is truly “just friends” with Oliver then there’s no reason to hide the lunches from Tommy. Laurel has yet to truly articulate how she feels for Oliver, but this lie is not good. An emotional affair is just as hurtful and wrong as a physical one. Some even consider it worse, but make no mistake, an emotional affair is cheating.

As for Oliver, his feelings are plain as day. He has kept Laurel on an emotional hook for the entire season. He continually reinserts himself into her life, particularly at the moments when she’s trying her best to move on.

There was a respectful distance between the two and then Oliver decides Laurel is the person he wants to reconnect with. Why not Tommy? Their friendship could use a lot of damage control. What about Thea? Oliver can’t take her to Big Belly Burger or his mother or Diggle? There is an ample list of people Oliver can open up to if he so chooses. But instead he chooses Laurel – a choice that, as Felicity states, is complicated and wildly inappropriate.

Oliver also uses the vigilante shtick to emotionally manipulate Laurel. He can’t be honest about who he is or what he feels for her, so instead he uses The Hood to be her knight in shining armor.

Source: @htbthomas

When Laurel finds out it’s The Vigilante who saved them, Oliver notices the soft smile playing on her lips and he’s extremely pleased - almost smug. He’s used the hood to stay close to Laurel all season long. She’s hemmed and hawed about whether or not The Vigilante is a good guy, but it seems she’s solidly pro hood at the moment.

Oliver: He’s lucky to have you in his life. I know the feeling.

This conversation takes place about twenty feet from the bedroom Laurel is staying in with HER BOYFRIEND who is supposed to be Oliver’s best friend. He gently touches her arm, they hug and Oliver presses Laurel’s head to his chest, all while Tommy is listening. The way Oliver speaks to Laurel, the way he touches her, is anything but ok.

Source: @htbthomas

One of the fatal flaws of Lauriver is the writers tell rather than show. I’m a little unclear what “change” Laurel is referring to in Oliver because we don’t get scenes of them discussing anything REAL. So, we’re just supposed to accept through the course of the season Laurel has seen change in Oliver Queen.

But she doesn’t qualify what that change is. Is he more selfless? Is Oliver more communicative? Is he more honest? I don’t know what that word means to Laurel. The last time we saw Oliver and Laurel interacting on a personal level was at least 1x09 or 1x10 and those scenes were really about Laurel finally moving on with Tommy.

SO. WHY. DOESN’T. OLIVER. LET. HER. MOVE. ON????????????!!!!

Oliver is desperate for Laurel’s forgiveness. He’s so desperate for it that he uses The Hood as a way to prove he’s a different person now and to develop a relationship with Laurel he cannot otherwise have as Oliver Queen. As The Hood, there is no Sara. As The Hood, there is no betrayal. As The Hood, he can rebuild trust and find a way to stay in Laurel’s life. As The Hood, he can be the hero. If Oliver can fix things with Laurel it’s like the last five years never happened. Oliver may have a mission to save the city, but what he’s really chasing is absolution.

I’m going to harp on this until I am blue in the face and I’m nowhere near done discussing it in these final three episodes. Nothing has truly changed between Laurel and Oliver. He was lying to her five years ago and he’s lying to her now. Love based on deception isn’t love. There can be no absolution without honest confession.

Tommy: You still love her, don’t you?

Source: mymarsrevolution

This is a popular line used in Olicity fanvids, but it’s not about Felicity. It’s about Laurel. This discussion about Laurel between Oliver and Tommy is so patronizing. It’s like Laurel is a toy they are arguing over. The men get to decide who gets to “keep” her. The men decide what information she needs and who she really belongs with. This choice is neither Oliver nor Tommy’s to make. Laurel deserves the full truth and to decide for herself if she wants to be with either of them.

Source: @bj-hunnicutts

But what Oliver says is so toxically self serving it makes my blood boil. He’s inserted himself as The Hood in Laurel’s life as a sexy, leather clad, dangerous, bow & arrow wielding, romance novel, shadow figure who heroically saves her life again and again (because women hate guys like that). Oliver develops an emotional attachment between Laurel and The Hood to keep his hooks in her just enough to muddy the waters with Tommy.

Now he’s reinserting himself into her life as Oliver Queen, but just as a “friend” while carrying on an emotional affair with her. He has ZERO intention of ever being honest or having a real relationship with her. Oliver dresses it up as heroic selflessness, but if he was really being selfless – he would leave her alone completely. Oliver doesn’t want to be with Laurel, but he doesn’t want her to move on from him either. It’s selfish.

Oliver isn’t the only one lying to Laurel. Tommy is too, but we know why. Oliver’s secret is not his to tell, but there’s another reason he finally admits to in “Home Invasion.”

Source: @htbthomas

Is Tommy right about Laurel choosing Oliver? Yeah, probably. I believed that when I first watched Season 1 and I still believe it now. If she was fully committed to Tommy then The Hood couldn’t have any effect on her. If Laurel was fully committed to Tommy, then Oliver would truly be just a friend. She would tell Tommy about the lunches. Or she would say it’s not appropriate and she cannot be the shoulder Oliver cries on.

Instead, Laurel tethers herself to both The Hood and Oliver in a way that grazes the line between friends and more than friends. Those lines should always be clear if you are in a committed relationship. She is being unfair to Tommy.

But again, Laurel isn’t dealing with all the information. So, there’s only so much I fault her at this point. What Oliver is doing is very manipulative and it shows, quite frankly, that when it comes to Laurel – he hasn’t changed much. It doesn’t endear Laurel to me that she can’t see Tommy is the perfect man for her, but at this point in the season I am laying the blame for this toxic cycle more at Oliver’s feet than hers.

Unfortunately, Tommy makes the biggest mistake of his life and breaks up with Laurel. I understand why. Tommy has some self respect and knows there’s something going on between Laurel and Oliver. Tommy knows he’s competing with a mythic romance novel like persona and he feels he doesn’t measure up in comparison, which is the real reason he leaves. He’s wrong in every way possible. You don’t need to dress up in a hood and save the city to be a good man.

Tommy: I guess I haven’t changed as much as we all thought then.

He can barely get the words out as he ends their relationship. Laurel is understandably shocked and confused. This seems to be a 180 degree turn from where they were just a day ago. To say this breakup was abrupt would be an understatement.

The saddest part is Tommy truly has changed. He should stay and fight for Laurel because what they have is real and worth saving. They’ve made their own history, one that doesn’t have anything to do with Oliver Queen. (Are you feeling the Joey & Pacey versus Dawson parallel?)

But Tommy is right about something. Laurel and Oliver need to deal with their baggage, so she can find always with the right man - the man who wants a future with her and not the man trying to erase the past.

Oliver and Diggle

If Arrow is pushing us to root for a Laurel and Oliver reunion, they are doing a spectacularly bad job at it. Oliver has promised Diggle he will help kill Floyd Lawton, but in the end he abandons John and Deadshot gets away. Diggle feels betrayed primarily because well… Oliver betrayed him.

Diggle: I needed you there, man.

The choice between Lawton and Rasmus was a simple one. Deadshot was the bigger threat and the harder target to capture. Oliver can be pretty mechanical when it comes to making these types of choices, so it was surprising when he chose the corrupt investment broker over the assassin.

Four ARGUS agents died trying to capture Lawton. It really didn’t need to be a choice for Oliver. Why couldn’t Felicity call in a tip to Detective Lance and let Starling PD arrest Rasmus?

Source: bj-hunnicutts-blog

Because then The Hood couldn’t be the hero for Laurel. Oliver got to strut into the mansion and announce Rasmus was arrested, there was no longer a threat to the boy or Laurel, and The Hood was the man who saved the day. The pleased little smile on Laurel’s face, this latest rescue more proof that The Hood was a good man who cared for her, was Oliver’s reward. He scored points with Laurel. Oliver may not be cashing them in, but he’s collecting points all the same.

This does not make his actions completely altruistic, which is why Diggle is angry. John knows Oliver was trying to look good in front of Laurel and he put that desire before his friendship with John. Proving to Laurel that he’s a changed man is just as much a part of Oliver’s mission as The List. He broke his promise to John. Oliver didn’t help Diggle complete his mission to avenge his brother. Instead, Oliver continued to pursue his own.

Source: bj-hunnicutts-blog

If Oliver choosing Laurel is a good thing then why is there all this collateral damage around him? Tommy, Diggle, Lyla, ARGUS agents, even Felicity, have been hurt by this choice.

Oliver: Something to say, Felicity? Felicity: Nothing you want to hear.

This is not an accident on the writers’ part. They could’ve easily shown the scenario I posed about (re: Felicity tipping off Quentin) or Diggle understanding and supporting Oliver choosing Laurel. It didn’t have to play out like this. Remember they are the ones crafting the story here. It’s their choice.

They are doing this for a REASON. Oliver did not make the right decision in “Home Invasion.” The writers are not saying Oliver and Laurel should be together and the rest of the world be damned. Quite the opposite.

Relationships cannot exist in a bubble. Just because you love someone doesn’t give you the right to hurt people in the name of that love. We can become blind to other people's feelings and consumed by our emotions for one singular person, but that’s not necessarily a good thing.

Spike: Trust is for old marrieds, Buffy. Great love is wild and passionate and dangerous. It burns and consumes.

Buffy: Until there's nothing left. Love like that doesn't last.

Not a BTVS fan? Let’s try The Vampire Diaries:

Damon: I thought you broke my heart so I ripped open Aaron’s neck that is how much control you have over me.

Elena: And I'm still here, that's how much control you have over me.

Damon: Listen to us. This is toxic. We are in a toxic relationship, Elena.

Oliver isn’t consumed by love for Laurel, but he is consumed by regret. Guilt can be just as powerful emotion as love. We know Oliver hasn’t always chosen Laurel – hell we saw it in the freaking flashback this episode.

Oliver kisses Shado as she tries to teach him to be an archer. He’s been away from Laurel (AND SARA) for few weeks (months?) and he’s already kissing someone else. These are not the actions of a man deeply in love.

Oliver: There’s someone. And it’s a mile past complicated, but I can’t.

Shado: Does she know how much you love her?

Oliver: I suspect right now she doesn’t. But as soon as I’m home, she will.

The Arrow writers either have a very wacked perspective on what love, fidelity and devotion mean or they are trying to make a point. Oliver didn’t choose Laurel in the past and it led to some disastrous consequences.

But Oliver choosing Laurel in the present has also led to some disastrous consequences. So maybe, just maybe, Oliver and Laurel isn’t a good thing. True love wouldn’t leave this much human wreckage in its wake. Maybe this isn’t the “always” Oliver should be pursuing.

Diggle: The only thing that will stop me from going out that door is an arrow.

And they are using John Diggle, the man guiding Oliver on his path to righteousness, to make that point.

Stray Thoughts

HE LOOKS. You cannot beat the Stemily chemistry. These scenes are gold.

YASSS Diggle shirtless. There needs to be more Diggle shirtless.

Lyla is pissed John didn’t tell her Deadshot killed his brother. She’s going to arrest him if he continues to get in the way. Hmm… handcuffs. Has potential. *evil cackle*

Tommy also lied to Laurel about Oliver being cool with him leaving the club for a job with his dad. It’s like watching these two swirl down a toilet bowl honestly.

Oliver in a towel is always welcomed no matter how ticked off I am at him.

“I can’t explain it but it feels like my life is connected to his.” Roy and Thea are united in the hunt for The Hood. Finally these two get a storyline I care about.

The badge was a fake. This is actually a really good safety tip. Should I know what a valid badge number looks like? Feel like I should know that.

“I’m feeling like it might be time for you to move.” Preach. Does Laurel have insurance? Who pays to fix her apartment all the time? I think she’s needed a new couch like three times already.

Lyla’s code name is Harbringer. Hello comics!

Lawton doesn’t kill Diggle because he hasn’t been paid to? That is convenient, isn’t it? Come on show. Do better with valid reasons for getting characters out of jams when Oliver isn’t available.

Are we going to talk about WHY a world class assassin was hired to kill John’s brother? I feel like there’s major backstory there.

Where is Shado getting all the arrows?

“I liked who my son was when he was around you.” If Moira Queen is pro Lauriver then that’s all the proof I need to swear off that relationship. The evil spirits are coming to get me. No thanks.

Oliver has killed 26 people (that the cops know about) since returning home. Yeesh. That’s a lot.

Can you really break off a doorknob to keep someone from entering the room?

“No, Ollie is still out there!” Oh honestly Tommy, just let her go. Maybe a bullet will snap some sense into her.

Listen to the Watchover podcast reaction to 1x20!!!

If you’d like to support the blog, please buy me a cup of tea!

Disclaimer: Any gifs on the blog are not mine. If you would like a gif removed from my reviews, please message me

#arrow #arrow 1x20 #arrow reviews #merlance #anti lauriver #anti laurel lance #olicity #john diggle #oliver queen #oliver and diggle #oliver and felicity #arrow season 1 #arrow rewatch #olicity fandom #arrow fandom #season 1 episode review #season 1 episode reviews #watchover podcast

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unreliablesnake · 1 year

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Your memory (König x reader)

Note: Oh, boy. I was talking to someone about my mental health issues today and it gave me an idea. I'm sorry. I'm so so fucking sorry.

Warnings: suicide, depression, afab!reader, the reader has a good relationship with their parents and isn't from Austria.

It all began when you were still stupid kids, back when despite his height and strength his social anxiety made his life a living hell. His parents took him to a therapist to get help, so every week he went there after school to talk about his issues.

One day he got there earlier than usual–he needed a safe place to stay after two of the bullies from his class saw him nearby and started berating him in public–and there you were in the waiting room, reading a book quietly in a corner with one of your earbuds in.

You were pretty, he could see that, and at the time he was just another hormone-driven teenage boy whose brain was invaded by dirty thoughts at your sight. Your skirt was a little too short, your shirt drew attention to your breasts, and the shiny lip gloss made him wonder what it tasted like.

Then they called you in, strangely enough speaking to you in English, which made him wonder if you were a foreigner.

The next week he decided to arrive sooner again, hoping he could see you. You were there, but he didn't talk to you. He didn't have the courage to do so.

This went on for another two weeks, with him silently watching you, right until one day you pulled out the earbud from your ear and gave him a questioning look. When he turned his gaze somewhere else, you stood up and sat on a chair next to him. You asked him if he spoke English to which he only replied with a nod.

In the following weeks he learned a lot about you. Your father was an expat, you were suffering from depression, you liked to read, you loved music–it always helped you calm down–you had a surprisingly good relationship with your parents despite being a teenager, and you were missing your old home.

You were the one who dared to ask him out. At first he didn't even know what to say, but then he agreed with a smile.

You were his first serious girlfriend. After two years your dad had to move again, and he joined the military, but you kept in touch despite the distance and obstacles. Your messages always made him smile, gave him strength, and he liked to think about how your life would change once you returned for college.

But you never did.

One day, after a very long and very tiring day, he gave you a call, knowing well enough that you were a few hours behind so you would probably answer. Someone answered, but it wasn't you. It was your father. He could immediately hear it, the sadness in his voice that he could only understand when he somehow managed to tell him that you had committed suicide the night before.

He muttered a few words on autopilot, the words leaving his mouth without thinking before he ended the call and sank on his bed. He couldn't believe it.

He didn't want to believe it.

He quickly checked his messages, thinking he would find something, anything that would have given away what you were planning to do, that maybe it was his fault, that maybe he wasn't paying enough attention to you.

But there was nothing. Absolutely nothing.

To this day, he often wonders what he did wrong. Was it even his fault? Was there anything he could have done to prevent this? Why did you do this? You didn't leave a letter behind.

These days he usually thinks of you because of a song that plays on a random playlist, a book he sees in a bookstore, or when he sees someone who looks a lot like you, giving him hope that maybe you just returned to him.

It's never you.

And it will never be you again.

#call of duty #konig x reader #konig #könig #könig x reader #cod könig #cod konig

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sincerely-sofie · 20 days

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Hey look it's that one fic where Skuntank figures out Ark is Darkrai!

I'm sorry to say that Nidoqueen barely appears in this when it was her cameo that got me to post it in the first place (@oblonger and @lordofdragos are my shoulder angels who encouraged me to do so), but here it is! You can read it on Ao3 or under the cut.

The Verdant Village marketplace was full of pleasant chatter and smiling crowds as always. Twig had set up her old stand to sell excess loot she gathered on jobs, eager to get back into managing her business after taking some time to recover from a difficult job, and Ark had tasked himself with doing the shopping for that week. Twig didn't seem to understand that it wasn't necessary to make regular emergency runs to shops at the end of the week for food if she just made sure to have a little extra of the staples on her pantry shelves each day. He intended to ensure that there was no need for a panicked scramble for plain bread to tide them over to next week.

The people of Verdant Village, unlike Treasure Town, received him with a warmth that bordered on fondness and was greatly unsettling. He was used to being driven out of settlements, though he admittedly hadn't attempted to remain in one for quite a few centuries, and the familiarity with which he was incorporated into their little community startled him. An elderly nidoqueen in particular had taken a shine to him and once asked him to be sure to always stop by her market stand even when he wasn't intending to buy from her, just so she could see he was well. The same nidoqueen learned of his hobby of needlework and gifted him an heirloom sewing box, insisting that none of her sons had any interest in the art and her arthritis meant it was only gathering dust in her cabinets.

He wasn't used to being seen as a part of a community. He had his suspicions that most of the pokemon here knew who exactly he was by now, and yet they seemed completely unbothered by the Legend of Nightmares walking amongst them— he didn't know whether or not that eased his discomfort.

The shopping would have gone swiftly if not for the many stops he was compelled to make to gab with market-goers running their own errands. Gardevoir held him up for the greatest amount of time— long enough that her daughter sprawled out on the ground at her feet, groaning in melodramatic protest at how long grown-ups could talk about the weather. The childish display mortified her mother, but gave him a good chuckle as he discerned the goal behind it. Lyra was quite effective in her stratagem and freed them both from the conversation with that stunt, allowing him to slip away while she was chastised and deposit the groceries he'd collected at home.

He took one look at the empty house and decided that sitting outside in the summer heat with Twig at her cramped stand in the crowded, noisy marketplace was the most appealing thing he'd ever heard of. He made his way to where she'd set up shop at a comfortable pace, but regretted his dallying when he saw how worn-out Twig looked.

He didn't waste any time leaning down to speak into her ear, knowing all too well her reluctance to speak her discomforts in private, let alone in public. “What's wrong?”

She straightened her slumped shoulders and bowed spine. “I'm fine,” she murmured. “Just tired.”

“You're always tired. What has upset you right now?”

She grimaced, looking away. “It's nothing, Ark. I just didn't sleep well.”

He gave her a narrow glare.

Twig stood up to greet an approaching haxorus, ignoring his scrutiny. He sighed as she put on a cheerful tone to speak to the newcomer. “It’s been a minute, Gyldan! Where's Donna and Poppet?”

“Back home. Poppet's been off the walls all of last night, but she finally settled down for a nap. Donna and I didn't want to risk waking her up for a grocery run and the tyke getting herself even more overtired, so I'm on my own.” He smiled fondly. “Do you have those supplies I ordered?”

“Yep, here's your cleffa card and moon rock. Take ‘em to the croagunk at Wigglytuff's Guild in Treasure Town and you'll have a fairy bow in no time.”

“Thanks, kid.” He accepted the small package she presented him with and gave her a grateful nod. “Donna’ll hear that you're the reason we could get this thing for Poppet. She's been wanting to find her one for months.”

He departed into the crowd, and Ark watched Twig carefully as she settled back down. It didn't seem like her injuries from her last mystery dungeon run were bothering her, having healed almost entirely, but she hunched in on herself like the world was weighing down on her shoulders. She did business with several other customers who came in a swift burst of commerce, faking a lively energy and making small talk with them as they browsed her wares. He planned to ask her again what had set her off during the next lull in customers, but she surprised him by leaning over to murmur something herself.

“Sorry for snapping at you. I had a flashback. Nothing big, but it's got me antsy.”

He frowned. “I'll watch your stand. You should rest.”

“Nah, people won't buy as much if it's not the usual person running a stand. It's really not that bad, I'm just ready for the day to be over already so I can go home and—”

A raucous guffaw cut her off as one of those hooligans from Team Skull meandered over. “Hey! It's the queen of the wimps! I didn't know you had a shop here. Good to know!”

Twig muttered an unfamiliar curse under her breath and crossed her arms. “Hey, Skuntank.”

“Aw, you don't have to act so upset to see me. How have you been? Is Mip still as jumpy as ever?”

Her scowl deepened. “I'm fine. Kip is braver than you ever were. I don't want to talk to you.”

“Yeesh. What's got your tail in a knot? Aw, doesn't matter anyhow. What do you sell at this rinky dink operation? Looks like you picked this stuff up off the ground.”

Ark watched as Twig bristled more and more in her efforts to get this unsavory character to leave her stand. I'm here to work, not to chit-chat, she said, then You're keeping away paying customers, and finally Please just leave already. He couldn't help the way his own hackles raised when all her prickling anger fell aside in the face of exhausted resignation. Ark might be one who preferred observation over action, but he couldn't ignore the call to intervene.

“I believe she asked you to leave, sir,” he said, barely restraining the urge to spit in the man's face. “You would do well to heed her request.”

Skuntank scratched at his ear with a paw. “Naw, she's just being ornery. She says stuff like that all the time and doesn't mean it.” He turned to the orbs arranged in a careful display at the side of the stand. “Why’re you selling this stuff for so much, anyways? They hardly do anything. Hey, didn't you have a collection of orbs way back when? You still got those ugly things?”

Twig's venom returned as she replied, cutting Ark off when he attempted to speak up once more. “I did. Koffing took my favorites and sold them after you guys joined the Guild. I gave up on collecting anything after that. Thanks for the reminder.”

He pouted. “Jeez. You don't have to be such a jerk about it. That was ages ago. Besides, it was just a joke. It's not like it was a big deal.”

Twig’s tail flame let out a loud pop and hiss, burning a furious dark lavender as she sat in stormy silence. For several long moments, she didn't say anything. Her head ducked and her voice was tight as she murmured to Ark, “Mind manning the stand for the rest of the day?”

He set a hand on her shoulder. “It would be my pleasure. Return home and rest.”

Skuntank started to call some idiotic thing about discounts after Twig as she stiffly rose and hastened off in the direction of her and Ark’s shared residence, but gave up halfway and rolled his eyes instead. “Man. She gets so moody, it's not even funny. Hey, you're her boyfriend or something, right? How can you stand it?”

He ignored that reaction-seeking jab and focused on the latter question. “I’d not describe a reluctance to rub shoulders with one of your caliber as moodiness. Moreso common sense. You are not pleasant for her to be around, and I am of a similar opinion.”

He ignored the meaning of his remark, instead commenting on his wording. “You have the weirdest way of talking, Ark.”

“Don't use my name. You haven't earned any such familiarity with me, and judging by how you treat Twig, I doubt you ever will.”

“What? C’mon, we're friends! Are you one of those sticks in the mud who can't stand it if you don't know somebody's name when they know yours? Call me Buck or something. It's not like it matters.”

“It does, actually.”

He rolled his eyes. “I'm starting to see why Twig's kept you around after she ditched Plip. You're even more of a stickler for rules and garbage like that than she is.”

He didn't have it in him to entertain this miscreant any longer. “If you don't plan to make a purchase, you will leave.”

“Yeesh, Ark—”

“I told you not to use my name.”

“S’not like you gave me anything else to call you. What's a guy supposed to do with that?”

He leveled him with a flat glare. “You've made no effort to provide an alternate moniker yourself.”

“Sure, because that'd be stupid. You should be the one to give me something to call you. Why should I bother coming up with a name to use when you can give me one?”

It was with disgusted awe that Ark realized he was conversing with what might be the one person with worse etiquette than Twig. Where she was genuinely ignorant when it came to most customs, this lowlife knew and yet chose to disregard them. There were so many generic names for politely addressing strangers that were in use— even more now than there were when he was first formed— and yet Skuntank didn't employ any of them, instead demanding that Ark be the one to give a name to himself.

Ark scowled deeper and indignantly hissed, “Very well. Refer to me by species, if you must. I am Darkrai.”

Skuntank's eyes went wide.

He hadn't gotten a drop of joy out of inflicting fear in those around him for years, but seeing the way Skuntank’s lackadaisical expression fell as terrified understanding replaced it was surprisingly satisfying. His own look of icy displeasure was certainly contributing to the man’s abrupt distress, and he was tempted to deepen his scowl even further to drive home his irritation with him. He restrained himself, though, and Skuntank let out a nervous laugh as he continued to glower.

“H-Hey, would you look at that! I think I hear Koffing calling for me. Gotta run. See ya, Ark– Uh, Darkrai, my bad, sorry. Bye!”

Skuntank was surprisingly swift in his retreat. Ark nodded to himself and greeted the customers that came over as soon as Skuntank had vacated Twig's stand, happily walking them through the wares on display and explaining their uses and prices.

Hopefully that ruffian would think twice the next time he was tempted to speak to someone with such disrespect.

***

The house was far too quiet for Twig's tastes. Out of the three members of her household, she was the noisiest by far— but with Opal gone to see the beach with Kip and the other kids, and Ark running her stand in her absence, the lack of warm company made the silence feel loud.

Still shaky from her flashback and irritable from Skuntank's comments, she debated what to do to fill the time before she should go help Ark pack up her stand. It took a bit to decide when she was still so off-kilter from everything, but she settled on pulling out Opal’s sketchpad and scattering a few doodles throughout the pages that weren't filled with colorful scribbles yet.

The weekly tradition wasn’t something she'd started intentionally. Twig had needed to jot down a few notes one day, and the booklet Kip put together for Opal to draw in was the only available paper at the time, so she'd written as unobtrusively small as she could in the corner of one page to avoid offending the toddler by using her sketchpad. According to Ark, when Opal later opened up to the page Twig wrote on, she let out a shriek of glee instead of frustration and ran up to show him the writing while babbling excitedly. She didn't know what was happening in her sketchpad from the little girl's perspective, but after the poor thing searched through its pages the next several mornings and came away disappointed every time, Twig started putting different drawings in the corner of each page for her to giggle about when she discovered them. Now that Opal was gone for a couple days on that trip, it was a good time to load up the last couple dozen pages with doodles she could find upon coming home.

Dang, she missed her so much. If it was this was hard when Opal was only gone for an overnight stay in Treasure Town, Twig didn't look forward to her leaving every day when she was school age.

Twig had barely finished three drawings— a fork and a cake, a house next to a tree, and a crescent moon with some stars dotted around it— and was turning to the next page when she jolted in her seat as somebody started pounding frantically on the front door. Thinking it was Lyra in need of help and that something terrible must have happened, she bolted to throw open the door and panickedly asked, “What is it?! What's wrong?!” whilst fully prepared to find the girl bleeding or otherwise injured. “Are you okay? What happened to—” She faltered, looking the unexpected visitor up and down. “... What are you doing here, Skuntank?”

“Your housemate is Darkrai!” he puffed and gasped, clearly having run the whole way to her house. “Darkrai! Capital D, Darkrai! Are you okay?! What's going on? I thought people said you and Zip sealed him away or whatever after what he did to Treasure Town! Did he brainwash you or something? Blink twice if you need me to bust you out of here— I'll do it! What're you even doing with that freak around you?!”

She stood there, numbly startled, as the rapid-fire questions finally registered in her head. She couldn't think of how to react, ending up just numbly raising her hand to show a bracelet around her wrist that indicated her marital status.

Skuntank’s look of unbridled terror forced a laughing fit out of her that had her doubling over with mirth. “Dude,” she wheezed, “I— Hang on, hang on, I'm lightheaded now, I— Pfft—” She wiped tears from her eyes and straightened up. “I'm good, man. Thanks for checking in. I'll let you know when the reception is.” Catching her breath, she quietly chuckled, “Celebi's gonna think this is hilarious…”

“You know Celebi?!”

Oh my stars. With how hard she was laughing now, Twig was half convinced she was going to pass out. “Yeah, we met when I was a human, back when—”

“When you were a what?!”

She really should probably sit down before Skuntank’s face made her die of laughter.

#give me a holler if you'd like to be untagged!#the present is a gift au #travailshipping #ark/twig #pmd darkrai #pmd skuntank #pokémon mystery dungeon #pokemon mystery dungeon #pmd explorers #pmd sky #pmd eos #pmd2 #pmd #stuff by sofie

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stevenbasic · 1 year

Text

GITJ Post 290: A Date at the Movies, p6

SCRIPT: FULL AUDIO FILLS AVAILABLE AT MY PATREON

Cast:

Melissa Monroe: new Office Manager of Far Horizons Medical Associates. Has grown very tall (6’6” currently, very strong) brunette. Mid/late 20’s by her accounts

“Dr. J” (no spoken lines): her boss and new boyfriend; he has slowly shrunk to about 5’ tall. Indeterminate early 40’s, late 30’s.

Setting: the two are alone, inside Melissa’s car, nighttime, after a big group “date” where he was out with her and her friends. Already cursed with an unnatural priapism, he’s been snuck some viagra in a smoothie as a joke and has already spontaneously orgasmed all over himself just ten or so minutes ago. His pants and boxers are still down past his knees but he's got a white sweatshirt laid over his sodden crotch for modesty. He’s in the passenger seat, they’ve just arrived in the parking lot of where he lives (an apartment over the medical office). Exhausted, he’s dozed off.

Themes: are Fdom/Msub, strong/growing woman with mommydom vibes, smaller/weaker male.

Key:

Italics for emphasis

She’s driven to parking lot of office. She looks down at him; he’s sleeping. She starts a private manifestation in the rearview mirror to herself.

—- begin script—-:

<Melissa: deep breath>

“I am the main source of his comfort and pleasure. Without me, he is uneasy and uncomfortable. When I am with him I can ease his pain. He looks to me for safety, for warmth, to feel better again. I bring him gratification, satisfaction, and peace. He is falling in love with me and with what my body can provide. I am going to be his everything.”

<pause. now: voice becomes chipper, bright. But a bit hushed, talking to yourself and not wanting to wake him up just yet>

“Okay..! <big exhale> Manifestations always make me feel better..!”

“Now, let’s see…<indulgent> awwwWWW. He’s still sleeping. He’s so adorable, passed out there next to me. Let’s see how things are doing under Lakshmi’s sweatshirt, shall we? We’ll just peeeeel it right off of your lap - haha so sticky, you’re all messy - and….”

“Ooo….! Oooo my god. Wow. That…that smells so…Whoah. Wow, haha. So…good.”

“Haha so…so much of it. And…Omigod, look at you. You’re still so…still so hard. That smoothie really did a number on you, you poor thing...”

“Standing…straight up from your lap like that. All…hard and twitchy. All those thick, solid veins. So big…”

<pause. you take another deep breath of him>

“Heyyyyy…hey you. Starting to wake up a little, hmm? Mmmm…it’s okay. You’re with me. We’re in the parking lot, you’re home. We’ll get you up to bed soon…”

<He’s waking up, groggy. He groans as your own perfumes already making his manhood start to throb angrily>

“Aw, look at that…My poor baby. I know. You’re still so hard. Does it hurt? Awww…poor thing. Your scrotum is still all swollen, your testicles look even bigger than the last time. And your cock is so…so stiff and purple. <tongue clucks several times> You just came like ten minutes ago but you still look so pent up and ready to explode.”

“Is it uncomfortable, sweetie? Being that hard?”

<pause>

“Is it okay if I…touch? Maybe I can help if I…there, like that…wrap my hand around y- oooo haha!!”

<exclamation, as he’s just suddenly reacted>

“Ahhh <giggles!>! Careful! Careful…look at you, bucking your hips up into my hand like that! Shhh…shhh…relax, relax. There…there you go. Relax…let me hold you…”

“Awww, yesss, there we go….that’s nice. That’s okay, isn’t it?”

<You’ve taken careful, gentle hold of him, and now slowly begin to massage it. He’s still wet from his own jism. Perhaps a slow, squishy sound effect starts.>

“It’s okay if I…gently squeeze it, a little? And maybe stroke it a bit? Mmmm…yeah. You can stay calm, that’s right. There we are…that feels nice, doesn’t it?”

“Oh my god I’ve been thinking about this since the last time we were together, sweetie…you’re so big, so hard for me…”

“I know, sweetie…you’re groaning, making such good noises for me. I know, you’re so sensitive. Shhh…it’s okay…”

<pausing, more slow stroking>

“Oh honey….I can’t believe how hard it is…”

<pause, as he speaks>

“Oh, no, baby. You don’t have to apologize. It’s not a problem…You know I’m here for you no matter what…”

“Here, sweetie, lay back some more…I’m going to reach out over you, to get to these buttons on the side of your seat…sorry for the boobs <giggle!>…”

“There we go…bringing your seat back, laying you down…”

“There you go, all laid back now. Better? Good.”

“Now, I just need you to lay there, nice and relaxed…And let me take care of this little…situation for you. We’ll get you comfortable again. Do you understand? Hm? Can you…nod for me, honey? Yes? Mmmhmm?”

“Good…good boy. Now, take a deep breath and try to relax, sweetie…Let me finish this for you…”

“Shhh…shhhshhhshhh…it’s okay. Think about how nice it can be from now on, any time we’re together. I’ll be there, and whenever you get like this I can help, and you can just …let it go…”

“Oh yes, oh yes sweetie…moan like that. Moan for me, it’s okay. It’s just you and me…moan, moan all you want. I’m here. Melissa’s here…”

“Yes, that’s it…Good boy. Breathe, pumpkin, just breathe…”

“Oh…look at that. We just started and your body’s already spasming for me. Does that mean that you’re getting ready? Mmhmm…what a good boy…what a good boy you’re being for me. Good boy…keep going…”

“It won’t take much longer, sweetie, I promise…It’s almost over…”

<pause, still stroking, you’re in thought>

“Baby I know my hand feels really good right now…slow and steady, going up and down, up and down your erection…”

“...but Is it OK if I put it in my mouth? Hm?”

<pause, as he kinda responds>

“Oh sweetie I can barely hear you.<giggle!> Is that a ‘yes’? You’re okay…going in my mouth? Hm? Awww…thank you, baby. I’ve been wanting to do this for a long, long time…”

<it’ll be their first oral together, and you’re excited>

“Now, I don't want you to hold back, sweetie. You can moan loud for me and start gushing as soon as you're ready. You can let it out, baby, it’s okay…Melissa is here and I’m gonna catch it all in my mouth…”

“Okay, honey, here we go…”

”Oh, sweetie, oh honey. This is incredible….It’s so big. You’re cock is so huge….but I am too, aren’t I? I’m big. I’m a big girl, with a big mouth. I’m able to…”

“Oh god I can take you, I can really take you all in. It’s…it’s like we were made for one another. Or, <giggle!>, since you were born 20 years before me…”

<pause, as he gurgles something>

“What? What was that? Fifteen, ten, whatever…but it’s like I was made for you, I guess.”

“Oh, sweetie, those noises you’re making. Am I sucking too hard? Do I need to go easier on you?”

“No? You’re okay? <giggle!> Well, I’d better be careful, anyway. If I get too excited I might suck it right off..!”

“Ohhh, shhh shh shhh..! Don’t worry, I was joking. I know. I’m getting so strong, but you don’t have to worry. I can be gentle…”

“Here, shhhh…Let me show you. Let me suck the stress right out of you…”

“HMMMmmm…what’s that? You want me to put my hair up? Hm? So you can see, so you can watch? Okay honey, here…”

“Better? Hm?”

“You like watching? You like watching yourself disappear into my mouth?”

“You like to watch the cords of my neck, my muscles work? You like to look at my traps, see them swelling and flexing? Like this? Here, watch me flex…��

“MMMmmmm….”

“Oh, yes…I heard that. Do my muscles make you whimper? Are they scary? My big, strong muscles? Oh god yes whimper more…”

<you’re even more excited. His inadequacy and awe of you is a turn-on to both of you>

“Jesus I’m so much stronger than you. And those whimpers…that’s what I like.”

“Your whimpering makes me feel powerful, even stronger.”

“Oh, you’re whimpering more?? You want me to feel powerful? Oh god…”

<sucking, with your moans>

“Do you like to hear me moan, in my strength, with your cock in my mouth?”

<sucking, with aggressive groaning, turning to a growl>

“Do you like to hear me growl?”

“I sound so much stronger than you, I AM so much stronger than you…””

<sucking, aggressive growls>

“You’re so weak but your cock is so…is so big. It’s so strong. It’s made for me…”

<sucking, stronger>

“Oh god this is so good..! I wish you could just live in my throat. A little weakling man, living in my throat...”

<sucking, faster>

“Would you like that? Hm, Jay? To just live here in my mouth?”

“Like a little man??”

“Do you want to come?? Does the little man want to come in my throat??”

“Yes, yes, squirm for me, I like that. Squirm all you want. I can hold you down…”

“Now, come, come for me…come for Melissa…”

“oh yesss…mmm yess…! <swallowing noises> You taste so good…mmmm…”

“Oh good boy…good boyyyy…”

“Oh, my sweet baby boy, you look exhausted. All sweaty and trembling…Don’t worry, Melissa’s got you…shhhhh….”

“I like to see my little man get relief…And I’m so glad I can help you, sweetie. See, Melissa’s got everything under control. You feel better now, right? We just have to keep going, do this annnny time you need…”

“Aww. You must be so tired by now, baby…You can barely move. Your eyes are closing. And I’m not sure you can even hear me. Give me a little whimper…”

“Oh, goooood…. Mmm, It’s okay…We’re done, sweetie…”

“I know you can’t talk right now. Don’t worry…Let me wipe away those tears, baby…”

“It’s all good, it’s all over. You did so good, my darling. So, so good…”

“I’m very proud of you…”

“Now, I can put my good boy to a nice, restful sleep…a little perfume…”

“Safe and sound, there we go. See what I can do for you? I can be everything. Now, sleep, baby. Mama’s got you…”

“Mama’s got you…”

==============================================

Thank you to Joshua67 for his AI-generated Melissa, and of course to our two voice artists for each of their script fills. Find them both on Reddit as PSPill and AlexandraKixx

Audio Version 1 (PoisonedSugarPill) Audio Version 2 (AlexandraKixx)

#growing into the job

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