#really did wonders for my writer's block

[2manyfandoms2count]

Back to Life (Back to Reality)

Toxinelle and Griffe Noire really have been living in my head rent free for the past week, I just think they're extremely interesting characters 👀 This is more of a character study than an actual fic with a plot, I wanted to get into Toxinelle's head! Maybe I'll revisit their world at some point, I do think it's quite cool to not have a lot of knowledge of what's going on in their world, it's that much more intriguing...

Hope you enjoy!

Read on AO3

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Back to Life (Back to Reality)

Although the world they entered was the same they’d left behind, crumbling buildings lining the streets she and Griffe Noire had targeted time and time again in their quest to retrieve the Butterfly Miraculous, Toxinelle couldn’t help but notice that it didn’t look quite as hopeless as it had when they’d left it. The rising sun, which only a short time ago she might’ve found obnoxiously bright, pleasantly warmed her cheeks as she came to a halt next to a beaming Hesperia. 

“It’s been an eventful night, hasn’t it?” he commented once Ubiquity landed at his side, the glow of her power receding to reveal Alya Césaire. 

If she’s the other Marinette’s best friend, she can’t be that bad, Toxinelle thought, already considering a strategy to get closer to her at school. 

“I suggest we all take a little time to process what’s happened, and regroup later.” Hesperia smiled, interrupting her mental meanderings before she could overthink anything. “You know where to find us, take your time.” Watching him, Toxinelle found herself realising that she’d never realised how approachable he looked, unlike most adults in her life. And if the other Marinette’s world had seemed better in many ways, she really didn’t envy her for the presence of Monarque in her life; she wasn’t sure who of him or the Supreme was worse, but she liked the idea that she’d have a heroic adult on her side to fight for a better world.

Hesperia extended his hand, a gesture that made Toxinelle realise she was still holding Griffe Noire’s. She cleared her throat as she let go of it, before shaking her ex-opponent’s, who then turned towards her partner— no, that didn’t sound right, was it teammate, that the other Marinette used as a term?… It was probably more accurate. Had somebody asked her earlier that day, she might’ve described their relationship as one of “reluctant allies”, but there had been a shift in their dynamic from the moment they’d positioned themselves against the Supreme, which would have to draw them closer. 

At least she hoped so— it was one thing considering going against him as a team, an entirely different one to face him on her own. She didn’t think she was strong enough for it; not physically, the newfound feeling of health she’d retrieved from the other timeline being just a flicker next to the flame she’d once possessed, before it had all started, but least of all mentally. Not now, anyway.

“See you soon,” the man said, waving as he and his ally made their way back to their base. 

Just like that, Toxinelle found herself standing alone with Griffe Noire in the empty street.

“Bed–, I mean, um… Ladybug? Is that really what I’m supposed to call you now?” the tomcat raised an eyebrow.

“What about you? Have you landed on a good name?” she parried. 

“Hey, at least I was creative with mine, you’re just a– a copycat!” He pointed at her, laughing. It was the first time she heard him laugh genuinely, and she had to admit, it sounded pretty good.

Toxinelle stuck out her tongue at him, hoping it would distract from the blush creeping up her cheeks. She wasn’t entirely sure, but something told her that the thick layer of pale foundation she conscientiously applied every day, and which had until then stuck through her transformation, hadn’t made it back from their journey to the other world. 

“Anyway, what?” she asked rather abruptly, out of habit. She didn’t like that her sharp tone was coming back so quickly. She winced, and quickly added, more softly: “did you want to say?”

“Oh, er, well, I was wondering if maybe you’d like to meet up at some point? To discuss… this.” He gestured vaguely at their surroundings.

Toxinelle thought about what awaited her at home, and the panic that started washing over her made her feel like she was already losing grip on the thin thread of hope the other Marinette had started weaving for her.

“How about now?” she blurted out.

Griffe Noire was speechless for a second, but quickly pulled himself back together with a smirk. “Well, well, well,” he said, “look who can’t get enough of Adrien Agreste now.”

Toxinelle rolled her eyes, feeling her cheeks heat up again. “For someone who’s so gloomy and silent without a mask, you sure are chatty with one on,” she grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest.

Griffe Noire paled (she noticed now that his make-up had gone during his costume change, too; his complexion was quite nice when it wasn’t painted over) and he cleared his throat. “As if you don’t change your attitude either.”

“I’m sorry, how do you know me again, exactly?” She quirked an eyebrow.

“You’re my baker girl.” He shrugged, looking down and kicking a stray pebble. “I mean, not my baker girl, more like, the baker girl. Or whatever,” he mumbled quickly, blushing.

Toxinelle frowned, racking her brain to remember meeting him. Even without being a fan, she’d still recall serving the famous Adrien Agreste. She probably even would’ve been annoyed by his presence, knowing it would probably bring more people to the bakery, not to buy, but to stalk around in the hope of catching a glimpse of him. People could be so shallow. “You’ve never come inside the shop, though, have you?”

“No,” he admitted. “My bodyguard gets my chouquettes for me.”

“Wow, so you’re really that famous person.” She rolled her eyes.

“Hey, I’d like to see you face crazed fans any time you set foot outside.”

“Not likely to happen.” She walked away. If she shared an interest in fashion with the other Marinette, she clearly didn’t have the same support, or even the same time to dedicate to what she could only describe as her hobby, rather than a more serious career aspiration. And if she didn’t get the practice now… well, she wasn’t sure she’d ever get around to it.

“It’s always you, serving clients at the bakery. Never your parents,” he called out after her.

She turned back towards him, guarded. If he’d noticed that much from just waiting around in a car, who knew what else he’d noticed. “They’re very busy people.”

“And you’re still in school. And a Miraculous holder, even if I guess they don’t know about that. That’s one thing my dad is incredibly annoying about: making sure I don’t overdo it in modelling hours because “I need to lead a normal life”.” Griffe Noire air quoted.

“It’s nice that he cares, though,” Toxinelle let out with a sigh. 

“It’s exhausting, he’s positive all the time .” Griffe Noire threw his hands up. “It’s unnatural, if you ask me.” 

“Oh boo-hoo. He should meet my mother, nothing’s ever good enough for her,” she muttered, immediately regretting her words and the can of worms it might open.

There was a beat of silence, which felt unbearable to her, before Griffe Noire cautiously asked: “Want to talk about it?”

She considered her answer carefully. On the one hand, something told her that talking about what she was going through, the constant pressure of life at home, in some ways feeling more isolated in what should be the comfort of home, never being able to rely on anyone, might help her. Talking to the other Marinette had made some things click inside of her, after all. On the other hand, as much as she wanted to trust that Griffe Noire wasn’t going anywhere, she was afraid to crack the door open if it would just come back slamming I’m her face.

“Not now, if that’s okay,” she finally said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“I’ll be there when you’re ready.” Griffe Noire nodded. “You know where to find me. If you still want to talk, that is, if you want to be my…” he trailed off, as if looking for the right word.

“Friend?” she suggested, holding out her hand.

“Friend,” he repeated, shaking it, as if tasting the word. His face lit up with a bright smile.

His baton beeped just then, and he looked at her sheepishly. “I think that’s my cue to leave. I’m going to be late for dinner with my father— another thing he’s very peculiar about. But we’ll have to meet again, we didn’t get to discuss our whole situation with the Supreme, Hesperia and everything.” 

“It’s alright, we can set out another moment when I bring you your chouquettes tomorrow.” She smiled.

“Are you really going to turn me into the type of famous person who gets them delivered directly to the window of their car? I would’ve thought you’d despise that.” He winked.

“It’s fine if I’m the one who suggests it.” She laughed. 

“Aright, then, looking forward to it.” He bowed. “See you tomorrow, Bug.”

Toxinelle had to admit that she could hardly wait.

#aaaaaand now i have that song stuck in my head #oops haha #this was a lot of fun to write #really did wonders for my writer's block #the hardest part of writing this was coming to terms with the fact that there would in fact be no plot #miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanfiction #miraculous fanfic #miraculous spoilers #paris special #paris special spoilers #miraculous paris special #ml #mlb #ml paris special #toxinelle #griffe noire #toxigriffe #shadyclaw #toxinelle x griffe noire #shadybug x claw noir #claw noir #the miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir #ml fic #elle writes

[jonathanbiers]

-

#i’ve been thinking about it for a while but i think i am going to take a break from writing at least for the st fandom #i’m so grateful for the ppl who leave comments they truly make my day when i get them but as a whole i’ve just felt. unappreciated #and i know i shouldn’t but it’s really hard not to wonder what i’m doing wrong #i’ve been feeling shitty abt it since my last stargyle fic flopped so bad but the lack of response to my most recent fic is fucking with #my head bc i see the hits keep going up and nothing else and assume people hated it #which is fair i really only wrote it for myself and one other person but it doesn’t make me feel good #those that did leave comments on part 2 i’m kissing you #but i don’t want to spend any more of my mental energy trying to write through my writers block for it not to get the response it deserves. #is this dramatic? yeah probably. but i’m tired

[amerasdreams]

I wonder if writing almost daily from age 13-18 inoculated me against writers block.

I hope so.

#I... don't really get it #I get in certain corners #But I just. Write badly #Then it gets better as I write the words get jogged loose #Or I reread and write notes #I wonder if writers block is a sort of burnout? In which case you SHOULD take a break #Do nice east things if u want to do some writing related thing #I wasn't critiqued during all that time so it was all pleasant #It's also a very. Ridiculous novel #But didn't put me off writing #Neither did college critiques #Reading tho.... never the same after college #And I was a voracious reader #What is this? #I hope my love of writing will always override any sort of attacks on it

[bubble-dream-inc]

under your skin.

The last walk-in you expected to see in your tattoo parlor in one rainy day was a massive masked behemoth of a man. It came as even more of a surprise when you wanted to see him there again and again; and a final time when he kept coming back.

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Tattoo artist reader

rbs greatly appreciated!

WC: 7K

a/n: listen, as a tattoo artist irl, the first thing i did when i discovered ghost had a tattoo was to think how i had to self indulge. i’d kill to tattoo this man personally. shoutout to @117s-girl, @somnibats and Eddie for the tremendous help when i had writer’s block, and @deafeningcat for the amazing beta read as always <3

tags: fluff, reader being horny for ghost, ghost being slightly ooc, mentions at verbal abuse, slightly suggestive and slight angst.

You remember the first time Simon Riley walked into your shop.

It was a cold and rainy day - like most days in Manchester - and you were idling by, doodling on a notebook by the front desk and listening to whatever was playing on the radio without paying it much attention. Glancing at the clock on the wall where the empty loveseat was, you were starting to wonder if you should go get something to eat while you waited, when the bell on the front door chimed, indicating someone had come in.

At first, you thought he was going to rob you, and in a second you were already kissing your expensive equipment goodbye in your head, cursing the fact you had decided to buy that pricey tattoo machine you were eyeing for so long just last week, but those thoughts vanished when the figure just stood in front of you. Silently, you eyed the skull mask and sunglasses that covered his face, wondering what was this guy’s deal, since it was way too grey outside to be wearing any sort of eyewear. Trying not to let his huge stature looming over you be intimidating, you were about to say something when his gruff voice cut the silence.

“You take walk-ins?” 

So he really was a client, you thought. Rummaging through the notebooks in the desk, you quickly glanced at your schedule, seeing your next client wasn’t supposed to come for a few good hours, and decided you were curious about the masked man.

“Well, it depends. What were you thinking of getting?” 

He stood still for a moment, and you wondered if he heard you at all, but suddenly he reached for something in the pocket of his jeans, extending a neatly folded piece of paper in front of you. His voice filled the silence again as you unfolded the paper, and you found the thick accent oddly calming coming from him. 

“I want it to be a sleeve. Covering my left forearm.”

You opened it to find a surprisingly intricate design, and it seemed like whoever did it made it with the intention of actually getting it as a sleeve. Not taking the masked guy for an artist, you found a signature on the bottom of the page, a chicken scratch that read “Tommy Riley”. Usually, you’d make light conversation and ask about the design, especially when it looked important, but something told you not to pry into this man’s business. Assuming he’s this “Tommy” fella, you just smiled politely, deciding you could fit the first session of it into your work day.

“Sure. It should take a few sessions, though, is that alright with you?” He simply nodded, wordlessly, and you decided that was good enough of an answer. 

Leading him into the procedure room after getting his approval on the price, you made sure to give him a consent form for him to fill out and sign while you traced the design to a stencil - making sure to cut the right adjustments to wrap around his visibly huge forearm. You wondered if he was a weightlifter of sorts, or maybe just a gym rat. 

Transferring the stencil to his skin and prepping your materials for tattooing was a completely silent ordeal, and your client seemed more than content in just letting the silence linger for the remainder of your encounter, and even if you were getting antsy by it, you were glad he didn’t comment on how visibly nervous you were when you wrapped your gloved hands around his arm to make the stencil stick - feeling his warmth and the protruding veins even through the latex that covered your own skin. 

“You have any other tattoos?” You asked, stepping on the machine pedal to make sure your tattoo machine was at the right voltage while he got comfortable setting his arm on the arm rest.

“No.” 

“Cool.” God, you felt awkward. “I’m gonna start now, tell me if it hurts too much.”

“Right.” 

You felt stupid saying that to a man that had arms the size of your head and was at least 6,4. As expected, he didn’t even flinch when the needles touched his skin, but you weren’t about to give up on your mission to make conversation with your mysterious client. While tracing it with the machine, you analyzed the design a bit closer.

“That’s some interesting art.” It wasn’t. It was tacky as hell, all missiles and skulls and other edgy elements, but you were not going to say that to him. “You like guns?”

“Something like that.” 

You gave up trying to chat him up shortly after. Even with the weird dad sunglasses on, you could still feel his stare on you, unnerving at best, and you wondered what was up with the mask. In your line of work, you’d met some interesting individuals, and you considered your shop a safe haven for all outcasts and misfits; you’d known, after all you did decide to pursue tattooing as a career. Still, something about this man - Tommy? - made you feel an itch to see what lied beyond the mask - both figuratively and literally.  At least it would take a few more sessions to finish his piece, hopefully he’d say more than five words at once to you at some point. 

It took you two hours to finish tracing it, and you deemed it was good to go and begin shading another day. Getting into professional mode, you gave him directions on how to care for it and asked him to come back after a month to start on shading it, and, as expected, he only nodded to you. Going back to the front desk, he handed the bills containing the price you had settled on, and turned around, leaving without another word. Out of curiosity, you picked up his file. The first thing you noticed was that he had left the “Occupation” space blank.

The second thing you noticed was that the signature read “Simon Riley”.

☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆

Simon didn’t come back after a month. 

A good few months later, you just figured he’d given up and was now walking around with an unfinished tattoo, or, worse, he had picked another artist to finish the job, and the thought made you angrier than you’d like to admit. Despite your annoyance, whenever you’d organize your clients files, you’d find yourself lingering on his, weirdly curious and feeling like he was a puzzle you were dying to solve.

A long time passed - you don’t know how much, but you’d say it was more than a year - before he showed up again, and, once again, it was unannounced. You were finishing a client’s tattoo when your friend - and coworker - knocked on the procedure room door, and when you’d told her to come in, she looked like she had seen a ghost. 

“There’s a guy in the waiting room asking for you. Said you were doing his sleeve…” She quietly announced, and you just stared at her quizzically, waiting for her to continue. "He 's…Big. Tall guy with a creepy skull mask.” 

She whispered the last part so he wouldn’t hear it, even if he was a good corridor distance away and the metal music coming from the radio would drown it out, and after a few moments you realized she was talking about Simon.  You remember answering something to her and finishing the tattoo on auto pilot before heading to the front desk, and, sure enough, Simon was standing there menacingly, in his whole huge aura, seemingly unbothered by how his height, frame, and mask were making the other clients in the shop regard him with uneasy looks. His eyes met yours once you showed up. You noticed he wasn’t wearing the sunglasses anymore, and his fabric mask had been replaced by a simpler balaclava and a hard skull mask on top that you hoped was made out of a synthetic material. 

Now bare, his gaze revealed its intensity to you, the dark hues following your every move in a way you supposed you could find intimidating if a small, very weird part of you didn’t find it attractive. He seemed tired, eyes cast downwards and with bags surrounding it, and you wondered what had happened when he was gone. 

“Hey.” You breathed, straining your neck to look up at him and completely forgetting about the other people in the room. “Riley, right? I’m guessing you’re here for the sleeve?”

He seemed slightly surprised you remembered his name, but the impression of seeing emotion in his eyes was gone in an instant as he simply nodded at you.

“Yeah. You got time?”

You didn’t. But you’d make it work, you weren’t about to send away the man who had, for some reason, plagued your thoughts so much for the last months. 

“I got a few more clients, but if you don’t mind waiting, i can fit you in?”

You hated how uneasy you sounded, your hands fiddling with a stray loose line of your ripped jeans as you waited for his answer.

“That works.” 

With his gruff reply, he turned and sat down in the waiting area, and you released a breath you hadn't realized you were holding. 

The hours went by, the clients came and went to and from your procedure room as well as your colleague’s, yet, every single time you left the room to go to the front desk have a sip of water or check your next client’s name, Simon was still there, patiently waiting, the loveseat seeming oddly small under him, and his all black, dark getup blending perfectly with the black walls of the studio. If anything, it made you even more intrigued, since most people would have left by now, considering how long a tattoo takes and he could just come back another day, but he didn’t show any signs of having anywhere else to be. The people traffic started to wind down, and soon enough, you dismissed your last client of the day as you were the only artist left in the shop and the sun had already hid in the horizon. 

“Glad to see you again. I was wondering if you had gotten another artist.” You laughed somewhat nervously, taking a breather by the glass door while Simon finished filling out another responsibility form, and you had to ignore how nervous you felt when he turned to glance at you with those dark and intense eyes of his.

“Got busy, that’s all.” He murmured, setting the pen down on the front desk and turning to the wall where your flash pieces were displayed. “And I like your work.”

Feeling your eyes widen, you tried to conceal how flustered the comment made you feel behind a cool chuckle, but something told you Simon could see right through you. Going back inside and pointing him towards the procedure room, you briefly glanced at the fresh consent form and realized he filled out his occupation this time, the words “Army” surprisingly not phasing you one bit.

Simon was the same as the last time, quiet as a grave. But, seeing as you were wrapping up the shading quicker than you’d anticipated, you decided this time you would not let this mysterious man walk out of your studio - possibly forever - without at least getting one piece of information out of him.

“So…does it mean anything?” You nodded towards his arm, trying to play it cool. Being in this field, you quickly realized not everyone gets tattoos that mean anything, and most of them are really just for aesthetics, but the signature below the original design had you wondering, even if the newfound information that he was in the military made the over the top missiles and dog tags inked on his arm make a lot more sense. He stared at you from behind the mask for a moment, making you feel queasy under his stare and suddenly very aware of how much you were draped over his arm trying to get the shading on one particular skull to look just right.

“Yeah.” After a few moments he replied, a wave of sudden relief washing over you upon realizing you had not, in fact, crossed a line. “My brother made it.”

“He’s quite the artist.”

“He really was.”

Oh. 

You decided to drop the subject after the implication.

“And what branch are you in?” Not looking at him, you spoke in a low tone, too concentrated on the machine in your hands to realize you were maybe asking more than he was comfortable talking. “You know, uh, in the army.”

“Special Air Forces.” You realized he tensed almost imperceptibly, relaxing once you only hummed.

“Cool. I’d reckon you guys had tattoo parlors closer to base, though.” 

“We do.” He huffed. “But I know the guys. Not nearly as clean as here.”

At that, you chuckled gently, missing the way Simon’s eyes softened at the sound.

You continued the piece in comfortable silence, distantly registering the pitter-patter of the rain that had just started falling on the street beyond the front doors. Finishing it up, faster than you would have liked, you decided the corny design looked good - really good - on him, and he might have been the only guy possible to pull it off, which could have been related to how big and strong his arms looked. Wrapping the tattoo in plastic film and reminding him to not keep it on for too long, you had to focus on acting professional and not let him know you were ogling at the recently inked piece of skin. The long sleeve shirt he had rolled up to his forearms did not help you one bit, nor did the way his eyes followed your every single movement.

When you got back to the front desk - relieved to find the rain had stopped - you expected Simon to just pay and leave silently the same way he did the last time, but he actually lingered, letting his eyes wander through the flash pieces displayed in a neat corkboard in the waiting room - this one with your name written on top. You actually don’t know when he got your name - something told you it was when he asked your coworker for you. He seemed quite interested in one particular design that had been gathering dust for a long time on the board, considering how big it was.

“See something you like?” You followed his gaze, realizing it was a ram skull chest piece you had completely forgotten about; it looked too dark and menacing for most people looking for walk-ins and flash tattoos. “That one was meant to be a chest piece. Works for the back, too.”

Simon studied it for a few moments. What was up with this guy and skulls? Finally, he turned to you.

“When can you do it?”

☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆

The third time Simon Riley walked into your studio, it was, by far, the most memorable one. 

Unsurprisingly enough, he had decided to set an appointment for the chest piece to be the last one of your day, a week later; whether he enjoyed the night time better or just wanted to not be bothered with other people around, that was a mystery to you. There was a third option in the back of your head, but you told yourself it was delusional, and your fascination with the masked man was, in fact, one sided. That didn’t stop you from greeting him with a cheery smile as you looked up from where you were doodling on your notebook on the front desk, pretty much like your first encounter. However, you didn’t think too much of what exactly the chest piece implied as you headed to your procedure room with Simon in tow. It hit you like a ton of bricks when you freezed for a second, holding up the carbon stencil in your hands.

“Uh, you might wanna…take off your shirt. It’ll be more comfortable for you.” 

Preparing the stencil gel, you tried your best to ignore him and not let your eyes wander too much as he lifted the unnecessarily tight black t-shirt over his head, careful as to not remove the balaclava and skull mask combo, folding it neatly and setting the piece of cloth over your table before standing next to you in front of the full body mirror. 

I’m a professional. I’m a professional. I’m a professional.

If you thought Simon was huge before, that was an understatement. 6,4 feet of pure, naked muscle stood inches away from your much smaller body, and you were extremely relieved to realize that he had, probably out of consideration for you, shaved his chest beforehand - the same couldn’t be said for the faint happy trail very clearly peeking from his jeans, sitting way lower on his hips than you’d like. Scolding yourself over and over for fawning like a horny teenager, you hoped the nervous tremble in your hands as you delicately smoothed the gel over his collarbones wasn’t as obvious as you felt it was. Even through the latex gloves you could feel the heat coming from his pecs, as well as a few minor scars that shouldn’t give you too much trouble. You decided to ignore the very visible and very big bullet scar on his side. As he adjusted his dog tags to hang behind his neck so as to not get in your way, you finally peeled the stencil off, trying to calm your frantic beating heart as he analyzed it in the mirror to make sure it was in the right placement. 

It got worse when he actually laid on the tattoo table - comically dwarfed under his enormous frame. Sure, you had tattooed a fair share of chests along the years - both men’s and women’s - and it never really flustered you, after all, it was your job, seeing skin was a very big part of it. However, as you lowered your torso on the bed and tried to adjust your hand to sit as comfortably as possible on his chest, you thanked the gods it was such a big tattoo; you had no idea how you wouldn’t mess it up if it was a tiny one. But you doubted Simon would ever get a tiny tattoo. Above all, you could appreciate how he maintained his breathing slow and steady and, again, didn’t even flinch as the needles touched him, making you like him as a client even more. 

“I’ve heard you guys in the army got…codenames?” You started, desperate to start some conversation before your intrusive thoughts won. “What do they call you?”

Slowly, you were getting used to his brief silence before answering you. It seemed like his way to decide if your question was worth answering or not, and you were glad he had found them all to be so far. 

“Ghost.”

“Very fitting.”

You were surprised to hear him exhale in a way that resembled a very weak laugh, and you felt giddy knowing you made your ever so quiet and serious client laugh - or something like that. Feeling calmer, you continued the very big piece, strapping in for a long next couple of hours.

They passed quickly, your hand working almost in autopilot as you traced the tattoo’s lineart and made light conversation with Simon - Ghost. You learned he was a Lieutenant, liked bourbon and the mask never came off. Granted, it was mostly you speaking and him answering, but you were glad he was entertaining your nervous ramblings, and you were only slightly embarrassed to admit to yourself you found his southern British accent very soothing on his deep, gruffy voice. In turn, you told him a little more about yourself; why you got into tattooing and even a few funny stories from dealing with past clients. 

Finally deciding it was enough strain on his skin for one session, you set your machine down and admired your work, smiling under your mask. Taking a generous amount of the tattooing balm on your fingers, you swallowed your nervousness before gently spreading the substance on his chest so it would heal nicely, not missing the way he relaxed under your touch. If you weren’t so busy panicking by having your hands on such a massive and attractive man, you could ponder on how he seemed to be enjoying that as much as you were. With your approval, he got up to examine the piece on the mirror, and you caught yourself staring into his strong, chiseled, and scarred back, before averting your eyes, choosing to focus instead on cleaning up the inky mess you made on your trolley. You once again went through the now familiar ordeal of him silently thanking you, paying, and leaving into the night.

As Simon Riley left the studio that day, carrying an unfinished piece of your work right on his chest, you realized something clearly had changed in the air between you two. You just had no idea if it was a good or bad thing.

☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆

The next time Simon showed up, a month later, you were stressed out of your mind.

You were booked, so you didn’t really have any open spots next to closing time the way he liked it, so he had to settle for coming a bit earlier than usual, which meant there were actually other people in the studio for once, including the one on the front desk yelling in your face.

You couldn’t really remember what he was yelling about, just that you were suddenly regretting your decision of working with people and wondering if it was worth it to stoop down low and insult him back the way he was doing to you. You figured the moment he started yelling about his already finished tattoo that it was most likely another scam attempt coming from him, but it didn’t really matter anymore once you zeroed in on the hulking figure that showed up unexpectedly behind your unpleasant client in the form of your masked savior. For a moment, you were scared things were going to get violent, but Simon didn’t have to do much. It took one glower from him, his gaze sharp enough to cut from way above the smaller man, and he was suddenly stuttering apologies and leaving the studio in a hurry. You ignored the looks the other people in the waiting room were giving the two of you, offering a tired, but extremely grateful smile, to Ghost.

“Hey, Riley.”

He was still staring at where the man had left, and the annoyance on his usually so stoic gaze came as a surprise to you. 

“What happened?” 

You were already heading into the procedure room, too shaken to deal with the stares of the people in the waiting room any longer, and shot him a sheepish look from over your shoulder. 

“Just a rude client being difficult. Not the first time he gave me trouble, either, but it happens.” 

Simon didn’t seem too happy with your answer, but he let it slide, for the moment. Heading into the room and closing the door behind you, the air fell into a familiar silence, broken only by the cluttering sounds as you set up your supplies, and, to you, your still frantic heartbeat in your ears by the less than pleasant interaction just a few minutes earlier. It was unlikely, given how observant he was, but you hoped Simon didn’t pick up on just how shaken you were. Still, you took a few moments to calm yourself down as you tested the machine with your feet; Simon had already made himself comfortable on the table, and soon enough you fell into the rhythm of inking him, the same way you had grown used to in those last few months. Focusing on a particularly stubborn piece of skin where the ink didn’t paint as easily, you were lost in thought when his voice pulled you back to reality.

“Are you scared of me?” You heard him ask quietly from above you, instantly knowing he was referring to the way your earlier client had run off on the sight of him. Pausing your ministrations, you looked up from his chest to find him already staring at you in a way that made your heart skip a beat. Since you were currently working on the details on his collarbone, you haven’t realized how close you actually were to his face, and suddenly you were hit with the realization you could feel his breath through both your masks; and an intoxicating scent of cigarette smoke and cologne. Caught in a trance by his dark gaze, you realized a little too late you were gawking and not really answering his question, which made you feel very glad for the surgical mask covering your suddenly very red face and flustered expression. Looking down to continue your work, you tried to find your words once again.

“Not really. I mean, the mask was off-putting at first, but I've had some odd people as clients. You’re cool, though. You remind me of those big, scary guard dogs, but in a good way.” Cringing at the lame answer, you felt like a kid talking to her crush in middle school all over again, and the huff-slash-chuckle that left Simon only made it worse. It seemed like he wanted to say something else, but he didn’t, and in your flustered stupor you couldn’t find any words either, so you just let the air around you fall into a comfortable silence over again. If it were anyone else, you’d be wary of the constant quietness, but, for some reason, Simon’s presence was enough to make you content, even if no words were exchanged. 

Blacking out the parts that had to be inked was a piece of cake for you and your enormous needle - which you were glad was being used on Simon, since, most of your other clients would have been crying from the pain only halfway done with the black - and soon enough you were heading out to the front with him, readying yourself to bid him goodbye and, disappointedly, only see him again in the next month, once his tattoo was healed enough for another session, however, as you approached the waiting room, he made no move to leave. You thought maybe he was, again, inspecting your work displayed on the wall, the prospect of continuing to tattoo him after his chest piece was done getting you giddy already, but he was looking nowhere but in your direction, eyes unreadable behind the skull mask.

“I’ll wait until you close. Who knows if that asshole won’t come back expecting me not to be here anymore.” 

Blinking up at him, it took you a few moments to process what he had murmured under his breath, and, in an instant, your heart rate shot up as you tried to wrap your head around the implications. Had it been any other client, you would have laughed it off, telling him not to worry and that you could take care of yourself, but it wasn’t just about anyone. It was him. And for some reason, the fact made you only wordlessly agree with a nod of your head and wide eyes, certain he could now see how clearly flustered and red your face looked. An intrusive part of your brain was screaming at you that he was just being nice, and that the protectiveness was just because of his job and nothing else, but you’d entertain these thoughts later - if ever.

So, much like the second time you’d met him, the rest of your afternoon was spent with seeing Ghost’s massive figure patiently waiting in the way too small loveseat in the front room of the studio, living up to the scary guard dog imagery you had joked about to him, except, this time, in between clients you’d sit besides him to catch a break and make light conversation, the deep rumble of his voice soothing all of your worries in a minute. 

As the hours went by, it was way past nightfall when you closed up, everyone else had already left and you were exhausted after washing the studio on your own. True to his word, Simon loomed behind you like a shadow, quiet and intimidating, refusing to leave until he had walked you to your car in safety. You remember thanking him profusely, and him not making a big deal out of it, and the way your heart thrummed in your throat as you drove on autopilot to your house, trying to ignore the way Ghost’s figure walking besides you on the quiet sidewalk a few moments before felt just right. 

☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆

It was early August when you woke up in a very good mood that one morning.

Later you’d realize it was because it was the day of Simon’s appointment, but at the time you had chalked it up to just being a sunny day that brightened your spirits.

Business as usual, you went along your day, anxiously waiting for the place to empty out and you’d get your newly discovered favorite customer, not that you’d admit it outloud to him, or even to yourself. It was actually a slower day, with a big break between clients, which you were glad about, so between coffee and water breaks and chit chatting with your coworkers, soon enough the sun went down and the enormous figure of Ghost could be seen crossing the threshold of the studio’s glass door, responding your enthusiastic wave with a nod of his head, eyes relaxed behind the mask. As usual, he followed you inside the procedure room, and you remembered something.

“Lemme see how your sleeve is healing.” Extending your hand, you smiled cheekily at him, giddy after seeing his half-hearted eye roll, and he gave his left forearm for you to inspect. With his busy way of life, you’d have expected to be worse, but it was actually very well taken care of. “Wow, this has healed up perfectly, good job, Simon!”

You beamed up at him, but your smile faltered once you saw his eyes widening at the praise. Oops. He grumbled something in response and you decided to save him the embarrassment, releasing his arm with a chuckle.

No matter how many times he did it, every single time Ghost took his shirt off it made your brain short circuit, but you remained professional and fell into the familiar routine of tattooing him in comfortable silence, only this time it was broken not only by you talking first, but also him. It surprised you to hear him ask you questions first or tell you some non-compromising stories about his job, - making you chuckle a few times hearing about the shenanigans of this “Soap” friend of his - but you weren’t about to complain. You were lost in the familiarity of it all when you realized that you were actually almost done with the shading - meaning his chest piece would end one session earlier than expected. Trying to mask your disappointment, you wrapped it up, forcing a smile to a suddenly very confused Ghost. 

“I thought we were going to need another session but, uh, turns out it was…faster than i expected!” You gave him a slight, nervous chuckle, and you swore you saw his eyes widen behind the mask. 

As usual, you wrapped the ink in the plastic film - finding it very hard to make the masking tape stick to his large pecs - and gave the same instructions in a robotic way, following him to the front desk where he finished paying for his piece, all in absolute silence and with unreadable eyes. As the transaction was finished, he lingered, standing silently in front of you, looming. You couldn’t meet his eyes.

“So, yeah, i guess that’s it…” You gave another chuckle, offering him a gentle smile. “Hey, don’t be a stranger-”

“Do you want to go out with me sometime?” He blurted out, shutting you right up, and that stopped you dead in your tracks. You stared up at him, unsure if you had heard him correctly, and were waiting for him to say something else or even backtrack, but that never came.

“Uh. Yes? I mean, yes, sure! I’d love to!” You stammered, certain you were wide-eyed and a flustered mess, not expecting him to be so straightforward, or, even say anything at all. Simon seemed a lot more composed than you, even if the way he blurted his question out made it seem like he could be slightly nervous. You doubted he ever got nervous, though. 

“Great. Does this weekend work for you?” 

Thinking back on your schedule, you remembered that no, it didn’t.

“I’m booked with work…But, the next one I should be free.” You hated how awkward you sounded.

He nodded, and took his phone out of his pocket to extend it for you, and you assumed he was asking for your number in the Ghost-est fashion possible. You unlocked it, noticing the lack of a password and the factory wallpaper, realizing it was probably a personal and barely used phone, punching your number in and saving the contact. As you returned the device to Simon, you found solace in realizing he probably felt as awkward as you did.

“I’ll see you in a fortnight, then.” 

With a last nod of his head, he left, leaving you flustered, confused, but extremely giddy, and with a heart pounding against your ribcage. 

☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆

Simon came back a week before he was supposed to.

As usual, you were closing up shop when he showed up, distractedly walking around the front room of the studio as you organized everything for the night, the sound of the heavy rain outside covering up the creaking of the glass door, so when you turned around, his presence startled you. 

“Hi Simon! You’re early.” You chuckled once you recovered from your scare, but he didn’t match your energy. He was just standing there, stiff as a plank, and staring silently at you. Growing increasingly worried, you were about to ask if he was alright when he beat you to it. 

“I’m leaving for a mission. And i’ll be gone for…some time.” 

Your heart dropped, and you could only stare at his mask trying to process his words and find words, but ultimately settling on a quiet and disappointed oh. He finally approached you, and in less than a second he was standing towering over your figure, holding you in that familiar eye contact you’d grown to look forward to so much, even if you'd realized by his gaze that he seemed just as upset as you. 

“Will you…be in danger?” It was a dumb question, but you couldn’t help yourself, everything you told yourself the days about moving slowly and waiting for your first date to decide how much you cared flying out the window as you openly worried for him for the first time. Ghost sighed, and suddenly you were hyper aware of how close you stood.

“I always am.” 

Not breaking away from his intoxicating gaze, your words lowered to a whisper, a plea.

“Be careful. Please.” 

The air stilled around you, thicker in tension that got worse with each passing millisecond, all of those feeling like hours. Simon’s height had never seemed so intimidating, and you never chastised yourself so much before for liking how his intense aura made you feel, something that increased tenfold once he boldly got even closer to you. Opening and closing your mouth like a fish, hoping something would come out eventually, you stilled upon feeling his gloved hands gingerly touching your face - dwarfing you in them - and you swore your heart was about to leap from your chest to your throat in a matter of seconds. His steely gaze flickered downwards briefly before returning to your eyes, asking for permission for something you didn’t even know quite right what it was, but that you’d give him regardless. The rough texture of his gloved left hand reached your now slightly parted lips as he traced the bottom of them with his thumb, moving his other hand to slowly lift up his balaclava just enough to expose his - unsurprisingly - sharp, stubbled jaw and full, lightly scarred lips. You barely had time to admire what you could see of him before his face was merely inches apart from yours, your breaths mingling together from both of your parted lips.

“You don’t even know what I look like.” He mumbled against you. A silent beg for you to stop him now, but you wouldn’t even dream of it.

“I don’t care.” You breathed back, voice barely above a whisper, and that seemed to break his resolve, as in the next moment he was leaning in and finally capturing your lips with his. 

Kissing Simon Riley in real life was so much better than what you imagined. His height made it that he had to lean down an awkward amount to reach you and you actually had to stand a bit on your toes, but none of that mattered as you finally felt his lips move against yours, surprisingly slow and gentle for a man that looked like that, but you supposed he was always full of surprises. He moved his hands from your face to your waist, gripping with a little more force when you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer, encouraging him to kiss you harder - it would be a waste not to feel just how strong those huge arms of his could get wrapping around you. Groaning into your mouth, his touch soon became ravenous as he tasted you like a starved man, both of you now knowing it might as well be the last time you’d see each other, but you didn’t want to dwell too much on it, choosing instead to focus on the way he gripped the back of your thighs and lifted you onto the counter as if you weighed nothing, getting even impossibly closer to your smaller frame, never breaking the kiss. You felt like you could stay wrapped up in his arms for hours, but at some point you had to part your lips, keeping your foreheads touching and looking at each other without saying another word.

He waited until you closed up and walked you to your car again; except, this time, as you watched his retreating figure from the rearview mirror, your chest felt constricted, the unsureness of if he’d ever come back alive clenching your throat in fear. 

☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆

The late june spring air smelled good, and you were in high spirits. 

You hummed contently, cleaning with a paper towel wet with soapy water the last smudges on the inked skin, leaning back to admire your work. The black crow on his upper back turned out particularly good, and you found it amusing how its edgy nature went along well with the other tattoos already on his body. Spreading the hydrating vaseline to wrap the piece up took a little more than you’d take with other clients, since you were busy admiring and feeling up the strong, scarred back beneath your fingertips. 

“All done!” 

The man got up, admiring the crow in an awkward angle in front of the full body mirror, and you couldn’t help but keep staring at the muscular back and pecs that you could see from your position in your chair.

“Quit the ogling.”

His voice sounded gruffy, but slightly amused, which made you chuckle and get up, stopping by his side to lean against his huge arms and stare back at him through the mirror.

“Quit being hot, then.”

Simon rolled his eyes, but you knew he was smiling under the mask and possibly had the slightest red dusting his cheeks - since he was so pale, you’d always notice it when he had his mask off, and in turn, he’d always notice how you’d stare at his face with a smug smile. He looked over the tattoo once more before you wrapped it up, past the stage of giving him the instructions, all of them already second nature to him, considering it had been so many years he started getting tattooed by you.

“You know” You started as he followed you to the front door of the mostly empty studio, the only other sound being the tattoo machine of a single other coworker that was staying late in their own procedure room. “You don’t have to wait for me, you know I still got another client and it should take one or two hours more.” 

Ghost huffed, turning to you with his hands on his jacket pockets, the height difference between you never failing to take all the air out of your lungs.

“Nonsense. He’s not supposed to be here for another half an hour, right? I’ll go grab us some dinner from that place you like and I’ll be right back. I’ll help you close up then we can go home.” 

You shook your head with a giggle, watching as he came closer to you, and were about to protest more but he gave you a look that left no chance for you to be stubborn, shutting you right up. Taking one hand out of his pocket, Simon lifted his mask just enough for you to see his jaw - which you had already admired that morning while he was shaving - and his lips, leaning down to plant a soft kiss on your cheek. You smiled, feeling him murmur just so you could hear it.

“See you in a minute, love.”

With that, he left, leaving you to watch fondly his retreating form from the glass door, as you chuckled dreamily one last time and went back to your procedure room.

#capy.writes #cod #cod mw22 #cod mwii #call of duty #call of duty mwii #call of duty mw2 #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty modern warfare #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #cod ghost x reader

[motelofmermaids]

omg we need a finnick x shy reader plz😭🙏🙏

this pulled me out of my slight writer’s block, bless you. ❤︎︎ i want to add that this is definitely adding onto this request, and i kind of built a story from it. i wanted to keep it canon to the hunger games, and i didn’t make reader too shy to where it’s like… c’mon. nonetheless, i really hope y’all enjoy!!

finnick odair loves how shy you are.

❥ when you first, for a lack of better terms, met finnick odair, it was a year before the third quarter quell. he was free, as far as you knew, sun kissing his slight honey-tanned skin, illuminating his sea-green eyes. he, without a doubt, had your breath taken. it would have been far from the truth if finnick said your sole attention on him at the bustling farmer’s market made him uncomfortable. for the first time, he truly thrived under another’s attention. finnick had noticed your presence throughout the market, shy glances as you listened to the shop owner’s attempts to persuade you. he gave you a smile, a wave—and you, little ol’ you, immediately turned around and walked anywhere your shaking legs took you. finnick wondered if he did something wrong.

𓆝 the second time you saw finnick odair was at the beach, sitting in the water as mags listened to his incoherent rant. you noticed his body language, his hands talking with him. you had gotten in an argument with your parents beforehand about the upcoming hunger games, they said you could volunteer, give your family honor. you could’ve been useful—to the district, to the capitol—but you ‘wasted’ your life on making jewelry for the local children and shop owners. sure, they were beautiful, ‘but not good enough.’ as small sob threatened to leave your lips, holding onto the bracelets you had made days before—for your parents. walking past mags and the capitol’s darling, mags pulled finnick out of his rant, pointing to you. finnick wasted no time catching up to you.

❥ months have passed leading up to the quarter quell, in which you and and finnick had become… friends. it took him a while to get almost anything out of you, being as quiet as you are. it was worth it, though, the way you slowly came out of your shell around him—when you gave him such sweet smiles, finally not covering your mouth with your hand when you’d laugh. you still got warm on the cheeks, still couldn’t look into his eyes for too long, especially since finnick was a natural tease. he always leaned in a little too close, he would bite his lip when listening to you, sometimes he’d move a strand of hair away from your face. it was all too much for you, and finnick knew that.

𓇽 when snow announced that previous victors would be reaped for the 75th hunger games, you immediately ran to finnick’s. you couldn’t even think, instantly pulling him into a hug when he answered. you held him the entire night, mags right beside the two of you. “finnick,” you cleared your throat, tears threatening to fall, “i want you to have this…” you took off your necklace, hesitating to hold his hand as you gave him the beautiful seashell pendant. he leaned up, his other hand reaching to gently brush your cheek. “i…,” you stuttered over your breath, looking away from him, “i want you to have a piece of home with you.” mags observed the both of you, giving an all-knowing smile.

❥ when finnick odair finally came home to a liberated district 4, a liberated and free panem, he only thought of you. as soon as finnick found you, eyes red and scanning the crowds of people, he ran without any regard. gently cupping your face, he looked down at your wide eyes, your shaking hands resting on his arms. he refused to waste another moment, not when he almost died—when you could’ve died. he leaned down, his breath gently grazed against your lips, and you heart might have given out from how fast it was beating. you closed your eyes, a small unspoken consent for him, and he kissed you. he kissed you until you realized that he was your source of oxygen, that he was all you had. he slowly pulled away, a smile adorning his lips and you couldn’t bear it—your eyes fluttering shut in pure timidity.

𓆝 finnick wanted you to move in, thought you’d love it more because it was near the water. he told you about all the nights you could have together, walking on the beach and stargazing. you agreed, of course you would, with the one condition of getting a cat. he didn’t hesitate, and you and him were comfortable together. it wasn’t a new home, it was filled with finnick’s childhood, but there was a novelty in the air—it felt like a new beginning… it was a new beginning. you had a family now; finnick made sure to remind you of that everyday. you and him—and your cat— were normal, you didn’t need to lower your voices to appease the oppressive capitol.

❥ you didn’t need to lower your voice when finnick had you underneath him. it was slow, sweet, and spiritual. he promised you from the start that he understood you, that you could take your time. he didn’t want you to rush just to please him. and when you nervously told him that you were ready, he made sure it was the best experience you could ever imagine. he needed you to know just how much he loved you, and that you didn’t need to be quiet with him—that you didn’t have to put on a mask. you were simply you, in your rawest form. and he craved every second of it.

𓇽 when finnick had mentioned marriage, you, without a moment to process, spluttered. he knitted his brows together, a small frown on his face as he asked if it was too soon, too straightforward. you panicked out, “no—no… no, not at all.” but you were hot, hand on your cheek to cool yourself down because, dear lord, you felt like you were burning. finnick couldn’t help his laughs, a cocky grin accentuating his sweet dimples. he cherished you, and you were aware of it; his love for you would endure as long as he lived. when you put your head in your hands, nodding as you muttered a small ‘yes.’ he swore you were sent from the heavens—that you were meant for him.

finnick odair who loves you for you.

#kel’s anon show 📺 #finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x you #i loved writing this #i hope y’all love it just as much

[jazzyoranges]

Saw you take requests!! Can you do a fluffy Wednesday x Shape shifter!Reader (no smut please) where it's Wednesday's writing time but she can't think of ideas so reader turns into a cat and curls up on Wednesday's lap? Basically helping Wednesday by making sure Wednesday can't get up until she writes a chapter. Thanks!

Orange kitty - drabble

Wednesday Addams x fem!reader

Words: 0.8k

A/n: i feel like we as a fandom haven’t been putting the orange cat x black cat trope in enough fics. this is me advocating for orange cat!r

“I feel your eyes on me, (Y/n).”

“I’m not allowed to look at my friend anymore?”

“It’s distracting. You’re inhibiting me from writing.” Wednesday isn’t fully lying. She just doesn’t add how you give her an odd feeling. An odd feeling she doesn’t like.

“Aww, do I make you nervous, Wens?” You laugh, deciding to ignore the glare she sends your way

“Keep talking and I’ll remove your voice box.”

“Please, I think you’d miss me too much” You roll your eyes, stretching on Wednesday’s bed

You turn into a cat as per Thing’s request, and you two start to play tag around Wednesday and Enid’s shared room. Thing happily bragged that you and him were better friends once. His hubris only resulted in Wednesday taking away his favorite lotions for an entire week.

The Addams girl huffs when she, yet again, makes a mistake on her typewriter. This was unlike her. The tiny trash can under her desk was nearing being full only after one or two hours of her failed attempts at writing. Wednesday put her hands in her lap after she realized her words only became futile

The abrupt stop of clacking keys makes you turn your head, giving Thing the perfect opportunity to tag you back on Enid’s bed. You quickly turn human again with almost a cartoon-ish pop, and ask Thing if Wednesday was allergic to cats

“She’s not, why do you ask?” He signs

“Do you think she’d kill me if I sat on her lap?” You sign back, not wanting Wednesday to hear

“As a human, most definitely. But if you were a cat maybe she’d tolerate you. No promises, though” Thing somehow shrugs using his thumb and pinkie finger as arms. God, you loved the weird appendage

“I can hear you two talking. I’d prefer if you’d leave me in silence.”

“Writers block?”

“No, I’m merely thinking of the correct words to use.”

“Maybe you should ask Enid for help. The woman can reach over the Twitter character limit in like… three seconds. Two if she’s really excited”

“Recommend such a horrid idea again and I’ll release you in my pen of hellhounds.”

“We both know I’d win” You cockily smirk, again ignoring what looks to be annoyance on Wednesday’s face. Then again, she always looked annoyed

“Your hubris is laughable. Let’s see how you suffice when your digestive system is ripped open.”

“Tempting, but I’d rather stay here with you”

You can only assume Thing listens with watchful… fingers? You execute your plan to him, and a quick pinkie-promise indicates he gets to bury you if Wednesday decides to kill you after the stunt you’re about to pull

“Hey, Wens?” The Addams doesn’t show any form of talking but you decide to keep going

“Did you know people say cats can lessen anxiety?”

The Addams hums in acknowledgement, so you continue

“Well, I don’t exactly believe it”

“And why is that.” Wednesday sighs. Sometimes she wonders why she indulges in you

“I dunno, just seems fake. I was wondering if you’d do an experiment with me?”

“I’d rather not.”

“Great! Thanks, Wens” You give Thing a quick wink after turning into a cat and hopping up onto her desk. Turning your head to the side as if you were asking a question, you looked at Wednesday for an answer

You were crazy, but not crazy enough to do something to make Wednesday hate you

For some reason, the Addams girl doesn’t even have a second chance to think before scooting back her chair. You’re about to jump into her lap with a paw over the edge of her desk, but you glance up to make sure Wednesday was sure. You receive a small nod

The action is enough to make you whisper a small “thank you” but it only comes out as a small meow

You circle around her lap for a good area to lay, and you quickly take your spot with a tiny smile that makes your eyes close. Wednesday scoots her chair back in, and she has absolutely no idea what to do.

Only when you start to purr a shiver goes up her spine. The vibrations are light, and something about you happily laying on her lap makes you chip away at Wednesday’s walls the tiniest bit. She contemplates where to put her hands before Thing scurries on top of you to scratch behind your ear. Wednesday shoots him a deathly glare in return, but your favorite Addams (don’t tell Wednesday) stays put

As if showing Wednesday how to pet a cat, Thing gets off of your back and points a finger in your direction. Hesitantly, the Addams girl copies the actions Thing showed her

And you? You were having an amazing time. Wednesday’s fingers were cold but every stroke of her hand was calculated. She took note of which spots you purred louder, and continued her movements

Fuck you and your ability to get what you want, Wednesday thinks. Of course your smug ass knew cats lessened anxiety. Of course.

But Wednesday can’t help being addicted to your tiny purrs and vibrations

With her left hand fondling your ear and her right on her typewriter, she decides maybe a cat could be arranged in her novel.

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #wednesday (2022) #wednesday x reader #wednesday x y/n #wednesday x you #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams #thing addams #enid sinclair

[straykeedz]

Do you think you could do felix with a reader that takes a long time to cum and is super insecure about it but he reassures her that he would love to try and make her cum even if it takes her a long time (and it does) but he actually does it and she's so shocked. Thank you!!!

𝐭𝐰: female anatomy ; mentioning of faking orgasms ; reader has had shitty exes who made her feel bad ; poor communication at the very beginning ; oral sex and fingering (f receiving) ; dirty talk ; ♡

𝐰𝐜: 2,1k ; ♡

a/n: i’m not suuuper proud of this but i had a lil writer’s block so…. also, i edited this on my phone so it might be shit shxhsh. hope u like this anon!! ♡

this contains smut. minors dni. 18+ only.

Lying in bed, spent and out of breath, Felix wonders what he did wrong.

You didn’t cum, that much is very clear to him. And it’s not that he’s offended or questioning his skills, he’s just really confused about it. He felt you clenching around him, and you did moan just a pitch higher. Did you try faking your orgasm hoping he wouldn’t notice? Did he really fuck you that badly? Maybe he should’ve communicated better, checked up with you more, asked if you were enjoying yourself.

He’d been shoved away from your pussy when he was giving you head earlier, you tugging at his hair to get him to stop eating you out. He’d been lapping at your clit for minutes when you’d muttered out a breathy “I need you now”. Now that he thinks about it, the very same thing had happened when he’d fingered you the first two times you slept together. And you didn’t cum that that day either at this point, Felix is sure.

You’ve slept together twice now and you faked your orgasms both times. Felix feels he should bring this up before it’s too late and it becomes a routine for you. Only… how? He wouldn’t want to make you feel bad about it, he just genuinely wants to understand if there’s anything he could do to really pleasure you the way you deserve.

Coming back inside the room a couple of minutes later after freshening up, you immediately notice that Felix looks lost in his thoughts. Nevertheless, he smiles at you once he witnesses your presence inside the room and pats the empty spot next to him, implying for you to come lie down and cuddle, which you do, resting your head on his chest and throwing your leg across his lap as he covers the both of you.

The room smells awfully like sex, which is a constant reminder to Felix that he has to talk to you. Your relationship is at its early stage, and he wants to talk this through with you before everything crumbles - sex might not be the most important aspect in a relationship, but communication is, and Felix needs you to know you’re completely safe to talk to him. He wants you to tell him if he’s not doing something right in bed.

He really, really likes you and wants to be with you for a very long time, that’s why it’s so important that you trust him with this kind of things.

“Baby?” His deep, hoarse voice vibrates in his chest, “you good? You’re not sore, are you?”

He feels you shaking your head. “Nope, just tired, but I’m good. Are you?”

Physically, yes, but his own brain is killing him with the constant overthinking.

“Yeah,” he just answers while thinking of an efficient way to bring up the fact he suspects you faked your orgasms.

Thankfully, though, you kind of do it for him.

“Did you… did you like it?” You ask timidly, feeling kind of stupid for asking, but the way he looks so deep in thought is kind of making you feel self conscious.

“Of course I did,” he doesn’t sound like he’s lying, and you sigh out of relief when he pulls you closer and kisses your head. “Did you?”

“Yeah,” you mumble, but Felix knows you’re sugarcoating the truth to him somehow, and he hates it.

“Baby,” he mumbles after a while - a deep sigh follows the petname. “I know you faked it.”

Blood runs cold in your veins. You open your mouth to justify yourself, thinking he’s mad at you or something, but he beats you to it. He sits up on the mattress, and you do the same, however you keep your head down, not meeting his eyes.

“Felix, baby…”

“Before you say anything, I just want you to know I’m not mad at you. I just… don’t understand? I mean, is there something I’m doing wrong? Is there something I can do better? You can tell me, baby. I won’t get mad at you, I could never.”

You shake your head, fidgeting with the hem of your pajama shorts. Taking a deep breath, you shake your head as a no, “you’re not doing anything wrong, I promise.”

“Then what is it, baby?” He asks, voice full of concern - he wants you to help him understand. “I want you to always have a good time when we sleep together. I don’t want you to experience disappointing sex with me and feel like you have to fake it to spare my feelings. We’re a couple, you should tell me if you don’t like something I’m doing. Even- even when I give you oral or try to finger you, you never finish, you just push me away after a couple of minutes.”

The room falls awkwardly quiet after Felix’s words, until you finally find the courage to speak and tell him the truth, even though it’s embarrassing - to you, at least.

“It’s not that I don’t like it,” you begin. “It just… it takes me a while to, you know… cum. A long while,” you sigh. “You… I like everything you do to me, baby, it’s just… it takes really long, and I wouldn’t want you to get bored or anything.”

“Baby, just… why on earth would I get bored eating you out or fucking you? I don’t understand, you know I’d die between your thighs, baby.”

His words go straight to your core, and you’re sure you’re red in the face by now.

“You say that now. But I can assure you, you will get bored.”

All of your exes did, after all. But if there’s one thing your relationship with Felix has taught you, is that he’s nothing like your exes.

“Baby,” he says in a serious tone, “I won’t,” he assures you. “I know I won’t, and I’ll be honored if you ever want me to try to make you cum, baby, but only if it’s something you want. You know I’d never pressure you into anything, baby.”

“You mean… right now?”

Felix pulls you in his lap, his arms around your waist. “Whenever you want to. If you want round two right now I’m down.”

You’d be lying if you said you aren’t horny right now, especially when Felix’s underneath you, completely shirtless and only in his boxers. However, you can’t help but feel a little anxious. After all, Felix knows you’ve been faking your orgasms and he’s willing to try his hand at making you cum. What if you don’t?

Felix can’t help but notice you’re too much in your own head, so he places two fingers under your chin and delicately lifts your head to meet your eyes. “We don’t have to. It was just a suggestion, baby.”

You shift in his lap and he makes a pained sound, already getting hard. “No! It’s not that. I want to, it’s just… I’m scared to disappoint you.”

He pulls your hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ears. “You could never disappoint me. Understand?” He looks you in the eye as he speaks.

You nod. “Yeah, okay.”

“Good,” he whispers on your lips, “now let me eat you out like you deserve.”

Sprawled on the bed with Felix between your thighs, you can’t help but feel a bit nervous as he slides your panties down your thighs, letting them fall on the floor. Felix, however, looks completely enamoured with your pretty pussy.

When he places the first kiss on top of your thigh, your body jolts. “It’s gonna take a while.”

“Relax, baby,” another kiss on your inner thigh, “don’t think too much. Just lie down and enjoy yourself.”

Felix takes his time peppering your skin with soft kisses, all the way until his lips finally reach your most sensitive spot. You squirm when he licks a stripe that goes from your entrance to your clit, and his head immediately snaps in your direction. “You good?”

“Yeah. Yeah, felt good.”

Felix smirks and licks his lips, licking another stripe on your pussy, and then wrapping his lips around your clit, humming as he buries his face deep in your cunt. He keeps sucking and licking and lapping at your most delicate spot. His arms are wrapped around your thighs, and the wet, squelching sounds he makes are the only thing that can be heard, together with your heavy breaths.

It feels nice, really nice, but you don’t feel close yet. Maybe it’s because you can’t really empty your head and relax like Felix said.

“Felix, baby…” you try to entangle your fingers in his hair, “it’s… it’s okay if you wanna stop.”

Felix shakes his head, with his mouth full of your pussy. “Don’t wanna,” he mumbles, completely pussydrunk. “D’you want me to stop?”

“I don’t want you to get tired…”

Felix chuckles, sucking on your clit harder until you let out a whimper. You can’t see him, but Felix smirks satisfied. “Does it look like I’m getting tired, baby?” He lifts his head to look at you, and you can clearly see your arousal all over his chin, mixed with his spit. “I fuckin’ love eatin’ this pussy, baby. ’s so sweet. So fuckin’ sweet, baby, I could eat it all day.”

He grips your thighs harder, eats you out like a desperate man, very pleased with the moans you let out each time he sucks a little bit harder on your sensitive and swollen clit. Felix smiles to himself when he feels you clenching your thighs around his head, and this time he’s sure you’re not faking your reactions, because your legs are genuinely shaking. You arch your back when Felix inserts a finger inside of you slowly, inch by inch, and then a second finger, while his mouth is still on your clit. Your breathing gets quicker and quicker when he starts moving them in and out of you.

“You like it, yeah?” Felix slurs, fucking you with his fingers slow and deep, stimulating your g-spot over and over again. “You like it when I eat you out while I fuck you with my fingers, huh?”

You nod. It feels different than any of the other times you’ve done this. This time, you feel you could actually cum. “Like it. I like it, baby. Keep going, please. Don’t stop,” you whimper.

“Is my baby gonna cum f’me?” Felix kisses your clit sweetly. “Are you gonna cum for me f’real? Y’re not gonna fake it this time, baby, are you?”

You shake your head, legs desperately trembling - you can practically feel your orgasm, it’s there. Felix is about to make you cum for the first time. You moan when he latches his mouth back on your clit, eating you out and savoring the way you taste on his tongue. Entangling your fingers in his blond hair, you push him into your cunt as you feel yourself releasing in his mouth, arching your back.

“Baby, baby!” You moan, your whole body’s shaking, “‘m… ‘m…”

Your body falls back on the mattress, completely spent, chest rising and falling quickly. Felix pulls his fingers out of your cunt, wiping them on the sheets to dry them as he lifts his head from your thighs. The lower part of his face is entirely covered in your release, and he manages to lick most of it to clean himself, wiping the rest away using the back of his hand before collapsing on the bed next to you with a grin on his face. Circling your waist with his arm, he pulls you closer so that you’re resting your head on his chest.

“I’m… I’m guessing you didn’t fake it this time, huh?” He jokes, breathing heavily himself.

You hide your face in the crook of his neck, blushing like crazy. “I didn’t, I really didn’t.” After a while, you say, “I’m sorry it took so long.”

Felix only pulls you closer, kissing the top of your head. “Ah, baby. What matters the most is that you enjoyed yourself.”

“I did, baby. I liked it very much.”

“Good,” Felix reassures you. “I don’t mind going down on you or fucking you, baby. In fact, I love it. I’d spend the whole day buried between your sweet thighs, you know that.”

“Are you for real?” You can’t help but ask, lifting your head to meet his eyes.

Felix nods, then his gaze shifts to the large, watch patch on the front of his grey boxers. “Does it look like I’m lying, baby? Now gimme a couple of minutes and I’ll fuck you real good, too, baby, promise.”

-> reblog my works to show me your support! feedback means everything to me! ♡

#lee felix smut #felix smut #lee felix hard thoughts #lee felix hard hours #felix hard thoughts #felix hard hours #felix fanfic #felix x reader smut #lee felix fanfic #stray kids smut #skz #stray kids #stray kids masterlist #skz smut #skz masterlist #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fic #stray kids hard thoughts #stray kids drabbles #lee felix fic #felix fic

[flamingpudding]

I had a crack idea that I was thinking of so you know in Dan is Klarion au I was imagining a au based off of that one where all of Danny's children are Klarion is like the robin thing for Batman it started off with Danielle when nabu insulted Danny as the Ghost King and Balance

Ever since Ellie decided that she needed to get back in blood so she made the chaotic antihero Klarion and and her suppose it familiar 'cat' Teekl the way to help out her mother and mess with Dr Fate/Nabu Teekl is actually a bear with an illusion on that makes him look like a cat in the human's eyes

Whatever since the anti-hero Klarion in The Phantom family has been passed down each of them giving their own flair to the persona of Klarion with a different animal every time that they had pretending to be a cat

Tell her to finally passed on to Dan it is an honorary sibling thing each of them has their own antihero name once they passed down the title of Klarion

Diana's query and takes after his father's style of dressing and his tickle is a phoenix

First of Thanks for the Ask! Inspirational as always! Helps with my writers block [insert awkward laugh]

Either way because this is split in two asks... you get two version! One focused on how it started and the other on the reveal! Though the might be some little Shorts... Also there is something really funny to me about a giant bear letting Illusionen into a cat... So Enjoy!

(BTW still thinking over the other ask... and working on it don't worry!)

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

Ellie huffed as Danny reprimanded her for her actions. She just huffed crossing her arms. She was just helping Danny. Her mom got a lot on his shoulders and she as the sort of oldest saw that the best. Sure technically Dan was older then her but, he shrunk down to kid level again and now she was the oldest.

Well if she ignored her other brothers but they were only saved recently and still in treatment with Frostbite. So she was the oldest. End of story.

"Ellie you can't just go off like that you know that messing with an Ancient is not-"

"Mom, That Nabu-Guy was being a pain in the a- " - "Ellie!" - "A PAIN, babbling on to much about Order here Order there. How keeping Balance means keeping Order and bla bla bla!" She cut in stopping her mom before he could go on another rant about the Ancients, she needed to treat with respect.

"He doesn't respect you, the Ancient of Balance! You are the literal Symbol of Balance between Life and Death! Aside from being the Ghost King. So of course I had to mess with the one HE mentors!" Ellie added huffing as she crossed her arms.

Danny pinched the bridge of his nose. "Ellie, you created an entire alternate persona!"

"Yea so?"

"You used an illusion spell on Fluffels!"

"And? Any good Anit-Hero needs a Mascot." Ellie shrugged once more looking up at her mom before looking over to Fluffels, her pet ghost grizzly that was pretty much double maybe even tripple her size and the fluffiest ghost grizzly you could find in the entire Ghost Zone, and the cutest.

Danny on the other hand groaned, wondering if he had done anything wrong while raising Danielle. Sure he had been a teen himself but good damit why the hell did Ellie decided messing with the Ancient of Order or rather his mentee was a good idea. "I am calling Jazz! You can explain to her what you were thinking!"

He was definitely to overworked and stressed to deal with Ellies mischievousness right now. Well she did call her alternate persona Klarion, Lord of Chaos. Nope! He was not dealing with this right now, so Danny did the sanest thing he could think of. Turning on his heel and walking away. Where to? Who cares maybe he would check in with his old man Clockwork and see what Ellie had actually been up to, instead of just reading through Nabu's complains.

Ellie on the other hand blinked watching her mom leave before calling after him. "Does that mean I have to stop, being Klarion?"

"Mom?!"

"MOM!"

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

"Well hello my lovely Amadillos! Long time not seen!"

Ellie shouted cheerfully as she twirled into appearing hair styled into a horn like form, black suit and she might have over done it a little with the black eyeliner but hey it was an iconic look wasn't it. She smirked as Fluffles growled which translated into a meow for the mortals before her thank to the illusion spell.

The mortal teen looked up at her surprised as she floated down her hand glowing with red ectoplasm (a color change from her usual green ectoplasm that had taken a while to learn from Pandora). Young Justice was currently transporting something of interest to her. Well of Interest for the Justice League, really but Doctor Fate was involved which meant Nabu was involved, which naturally meant she would get involved. It didn't hurt that she would also get to try to try some new tricks.

"You got something interesting there... and I want that." She grinned. Ellie didn't give them long before she acted using the new tricks she had learned.

"Woah! Hey there, watch the pointy and sharp thowies!" She laughed making a quick shield as she blocked some batarangs and arrows before blinking.

"Hey they look different. Robin, did you change equipment? Did you get a new haircut too?" She asked curious but didn't really receive an answer as they ignored her questions and shouted something about distracting her while the others continue the transportation. Still she bend down to pick one of them up twirling it between her fingers. "What gives didn't they have a different design before?"

In hindsight it was probably not a good idea to just abandon her original goal but Robin was making her curious. And she could always find a different way to mess with Nabu. Her mom had given her an indirect okay years ago anyway.

"Teekl!" She called out and only her eyes could see how Fluffles jumped at the call growling in response as he swatted away some of the more annoying Young Justice kids. To the mortals it probably looked like Teekl was using ectoplasm, or well magic, in their eyes.

She used that change to go up into Robins face smirking widely as she looked at the other more closely, trying to get a read on him. "You are different! You aren't the same Robin I meet before!"

She ducked in time avoid Superboy as she hopped back excited with a new idea for her family.

But first she would have to deal with the little chaos and mischief she was creating.

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

".....and that is how I learned that the Robin title is getting passed down. So I was thinking of doing the same!" Ellie broadly stated looking at all her younger siblings before her. "We all get pretty annoyed with the way Nabu treats Mom so there always has to be a Lord of Chaos to 'balance' Nabu out!"

She grinned at her siblings expecting the same kind of excitement she had and they didn't disappoint. Danny had been there for all of them, even going so far as in to find a way with Clockwork to save some of their lives. So of course they all would jump at the change to mess with the one Ancient that was badmouthing their Mother just because Balance didn't entitle Order the way they wanted.

After all Chaos was needed to Balance Order out.

This was going to be fun...

[Follow up part Linked here]

#dp x dc #dpxdc #danny fenton #danny phantom #dcxdp #ellie phantom #dan phantom #klarion the witch boy #crossover #dick grayson #tim drake #dc robin #Klarion is a title passed down like Robin #Ellie created the first Klarion #dc Nabu #doctor fate #mom danny #ghost king danny #Ellie is the first Klarion #Like Dick was the first Robin #she got the idea of passing down Robin after meeting Tim!Robin #Originally it was just to mess with the Ancient of Order #part 1

[heartlyrins]

Hi! This is my first time requesting so forgive me if I did something wrong 😿

I've read your Aventurine x slave!reader and I was wondering how about reader who WANTS to be his sex slave? The first time reader met Aventurine, she's been gushing over him. Reader tries to hide it but the word "simp" literally written on her face. Every night reader dreams of riding, sucking Aventurine's cock, wanting his head between her legs, rocking her inside every night. Every time reader nears/sees Aventurine, her face got red and her legs slightly parting although she insists it's just her habit. It didn't took Aventurine long to know what reader has been dreaming of and he's gladly fulfill reader's small dream.

Bonus: reader has a degradation kink and in her mind she'll do anything Aventurine told/request her like a good pet

Once again sorry if this is somehow against your rule 😭 If you're not feeling comfortable with it you can delete my message

MR HOTSTUFF, PLEASE NOTICE ME !

˚₊‧desc— Aventurine noticed that one of his subordinates just can't seem to keep their eyes off him!

˚₊‧tw— smut, degradation kink, dacryphilia, blowjob, slight pet play, adult toys, buttplug, public sex?, dubcon photo taking, choking, masochistic!reader, sadistic!Aventurine, kinda yandere!reader

˚₊‧a/n— I've been having writer's block but I desperately want to write for my husband. This is the most tame fic I've written so far I think, this is soo horrible cuz I wrote this while my head hurts.

He hated dealing with new recruits in the IPC, as the senior member of the strategic investment department—it wasn't really his job to do so.

They're incompetent, slow-working assholes who can't understand a single thing he says. But still—he does need to pick a partner.

He doesn't understand why he needs to, since he's fully capable of himself but it is a requirement for every Ten-Stonehearts members. Said it was something about a program training the recruits..

He goes to round the recruits and asking them questions to find which is the most suitable one for him.

Honestly, all of these recruits are dumber than Topaz's pet. The talent motivation department did a horrible job with finding these recruits.

Each one of them can't answer a simple question, when he asks them if they're willing to risk their life for a gamble, all of them just suddenly go dumb-witted as if they lost all braincells.

He doesn't mean to sound like a fellow acquaintance who nags everytime he sees an idiot, but for the love of Qlipoth are they a dumbass with a stick shoved up their ass.

He rejected all of them and was even beginning to think that he wasn't gonna pick one that's good enough, well that was until he was met with the sight of a cute girl—undoubtedly nervous.

How could he miss such a gem in these crowds? He observes you for a moment and when you glance at him—your eyes shine with admiration.

He likes it, you're cute, can keep up with his commands although you do that little thing that makes you space-out sometimes.

He's not extremely bias towards women, but aren't you just so adorable—a diamond in the rough, he thinks.

And when he asks you a question, you'd respond in a fast tone. And when he finally asks you the question that the other recruits dreaded, you'd answer in a cheery tone.

"Y-yes, I'd like to sacrifice my life for you, Aventurine! You're amazing and I'd really like it if I was your assistant even if that means I have to die just to worship the ground you walk on—" you stop when he just stares in your eyes without a response.

Bingo.

"How is your recruit fairing, Aventurine? I heard that you liked her very much." Topaz asks while petting Numby that's placed on her lap.

"Mmn, she's alright." he says as if he wasn't hiding you beneath his desk, sucking his cock as he has a conversation with Topaz. He hums as he strokes your hair, Topaz still so blissfully unaware of what a happening under the table.

"How about your recruit?" he asks and pushes you down deeper by your head, you gagged but it was silenced by Topaz's talking, thankfully.

"I don't like him, it seems like I chose the wrong one. I'm even considering to drop the program off—it's not even worth it since we should be busy with other things." she sighs before crossing her arms and Numby squeals when she does that.

"Sounds like he's a handful." he almost moans but he managed to keep it in, his face is probably flushed at the moment.

"You have no idea of how much of a—Hey, you okay? You look pretty red." she mentions and almost stands up to check on him.

"Yeah—gh. I'm fine, I'm just not up for conversations right now." you bat your eyelashes at him, tears threatening to fall down whilst you take him deeper in your mouth.

Topaz nods—placing the space trotter down as the chair scrapes against the floor, Numby starts to stare at him as if aware of what was happening.

"Hey Topaz," Aventurine called out as she was leaving the room, "Lock the door before you leave, please." He accidentally let out a moan which was silenced quickly while hoping that she doesn't notice.

She doesn't question the slight moan and leaves the room with her pet following, Numby looks at him suspiciously before being called by Topaz and Numby hurriedly follows behind.

Aventurine finally breathes heavily, not realizing that he was holding his breath all these time. The fact that you're gazing up at him with those eyes of yours make his cock twitch in your mouth.

"Y-you.. Fuck.. What a good recruit I have hm? You're so—fuck.. Come here, bend over the desk." you abide, bending over the table and lifting your skirt to proudly show him the buttplug you wore that resembles a cat's tail.

"So cute.." he coos and flicks the tail, he had gifted you that just the day before you so willingly confessed your obsession over him.

"M-master—cock.." he slaps your butt once, reminding you of your place and how you're not supposed to make any demands.

"Nuh-uh, remember how I taught you? Manners, baby." you whimper at his words before fumbling over your words again which just makes you get another spank on the butt.

"No cock until you learn to ask properly." whining at his words—you try to speak properly, you do want his cock after all.

"Cock—please, Master..? I'll be good.." you manage to let out despite the embarrassment, but you're so used to being shameless around him.

He praises you for a moment and grants your wishes—the wish that you desperately wants his dick in your cunt.

The hands that were holding your hips were now on your neck, gripping your throat tightly and cutting off your airway.

But you like it—it's feels so good to be choked— especially by him! You want to die by his hands.. By his graceful hands.

"M-more.. More.." the word leaves you like a river flowing out, you drool once he pushes himself inside you and grunts.

The rhythm starts off slow and gentle before it proceeds to get rougher and deeper, you moan out and looks at him with a blurry vision.

Just before you could pass out—he took his hands off you just so you could breath in and you physically whine.

Just by that whine—he gradually speeds up faster, hitting the spots within you that you could never reach with a custom-made dildo of him.

Tears start slipping down your cheeks which he smiles at. He loves your tears, he loves it when you break down because of him.

More and more, you start to get crazier day by day—mad over a woman getting too close to him and oh he just loves that.

He kisses your tears away and grins at your dumbstruck face—he cums at the sight of it, pushing his seed deep inside your womb.

You're already gone the first round, he wants to do much much more with you. But first, he pulls out a gift for you.

A collar for you, he clips the collar on your neck. Now he can fuck you easily—and also show that you're his and his subordinate alone.

#aventurine smut #aventurine x reader #aventurine x y/n #aventurine x you #yandere aventurine #star rail aventurine #hsr aventurine #hsr smut #yandere hsr

[agendabymooner]

SOMETHING FULFILLED !!! MARK W. X FEM!READER X FERNANDO A. (18+)

summary: after struggling to figure out what to get, mark and fernando decided that they should just simply fulfill their daughter's wish with the help of their wife, y/n.

content warning: smut under the cut (minors dni!), holiday special, dilf!fernando and dilf!mark (and milf!reader), threesome (mfm), unprotected sex, fingering, breeding/impregnation kink, mentions of pregnancy, double penetration (i'll let you use ur imaginations), established poly relationship, i did not edit this.

note: what if i fell into a writer's block but god said "you've written a jenson and seb threeway smut but not webbonso smut yet?" (on my grid sluts shit) enjoy and happy holidays xx

something sinful (smut) masterlist

a - n masterlist // o - z masterlist

if you’d like to get on one of my taglists, check this post out

mark and fernando would go through the lengths of fulfilling their kid’s christmas wishes. they would always do anything for their little girl.

it was cute, really but oftentimes, even y/n found that they had spoiled her a little too much. 

the parents had been wondering what to get their little daughter, ava alonso-webber, as she continued to grow as her independent self. her mother had decided that she was big enough to decide what she would like for holidays.

meanwhile, the fathers had decided that ava was not old enough to not be spoiled. after all, mark and fernando only had one child with their wife and little ava was only six. 

y/n merely hissed at them when they gave ava a go ahead on her request and said, “don’t go overboard with her gift this year. no puppies anymore.” 

both mark and fernando shrugged before ava exclaimed, “i want a baby sibling, papì and daddy!” 

now, their wife wasn’t a miracle worker— but to try and change ava’s mind about her gift for christmas was something she shouldn’t have done. 

mark and fernando were quick to frown at this before their wife continued to avoid that conversation for the next month all while attempting to convince ava into getting something more… manageable. 

ava had eventually decided that dolls and more karting time with her dads were enough. ava’s mother was more than relieved that the little girl had relented and moved on.

the dads, the brooding fathers, were a different story. in fact, when y/n arrived from work a week before christmas, she was surprised to find the house quiet. the only thing she could hear was soft music playing in the background. she was really worried she had to sneak the toys into the bedroom without ava noticing.

but the little girl wasn’t there. instead, both mark and fernando were sitting in the living room with the recorded premier league game on.

y/n’s eyes narrowed at the sight of her husbands and asked, “uh, did we just magically lose a child before we’ve spent hours and money on her gifts or…?”

mark and fernando looked at her. then the australian spoke, “oh, hey babe. ava’s staying overnight with her cousins.” 

“and we agreed on this when…?” she raised a brow in return, walking over the two nonetheless to press kisses on their lips. fernando pulled her into his lap as mark moved closer. 

“now,” fernando murmured, his lips opting to attack her neck as she let out a soft sigh. 

mark tipped her head towards his direction before kissing her, his tongue allowing itself to tangle with hers as he hummed in satisfaction. he nearly smirked at the feeling of her breath running out as she moaned.

“we’ve been trying to get you to talk to us about something,” fernando started, his breath fanning her ear as goosebumps broke out her skin in both nervousness and excitement. 

“about…” she murmured, eventually pouting when mark tugged her hair back as she got eager to make out with him. mark gave her a stern look. 

fernando then nipped at her ear as she let out a gasp before he answered with, “what our little princess wanted.” 

it was as if the floodgates were opened, her arousal making her squirm in their hold as mark crooned, “you were so adamant about not giving her what she really wanted, baby. why’s that?” 

“i- i,” she gulped. she really wasn’t able to answer especially now that she was being tossed back and forth between the two.

she could feel their hands roaming and touching her, gasping at the feeling of fernando’s fingers as they slowly snaked their way down into her lace panties. fernando then cooed mockingly, “you’re so fucking wet, cariño. you know what we think?” 

“h- ngh,” she whimpered, unable to utter any more words as her husbands chuckled darkly. 

“we think,” fernando’s tongue glided down her throat and sucked her skin, leaving a mark on her neck as he continued, “that you want to give us a baby too. a baby sibling for our little girl.” 

“and you don’t want to tell us,” mark added, smirking at the sight of their wife writhing. y/n was already long gone, feeling extremely aroused just by having her husbands work her up like this.

y/n gasped aloud, hearing her cunt making squelching noises as fernando slid his fingers in and curled up against her sensitive spot. 

“how about we give you more babies to grow, hm?” mark murmured, kissing her hard as he slid her shirt off and tossed it someplace else. “we’re gonna fuck more babies into you until you’re full of them.” 

she nodded eagerly, writhing against the two of them as she begged wordlessly.

fernando and mark smirked and looked at each other, as if they had every intention to fulfill their goal with the help of their perfect pretty wife. 

their cocks had been doing their back and forths in her cunt, her walls stretched out due to its familiarity with their lengths as she whined loudly, sinking repeatedly as she kept her hands resting on fernando’s chest. 

the two men groaned aloud, mark grabbing a handful of her hair and tugging it lightly as his hips snapped behind her. “oh fuck,” he uttered, fucking his cock into her as she babbled incoherently.

“te ves tan bonita como siempre, cariño,” you look so pretty as always, darling. fernando cursed out as he thrusted his hips up. he muttered, “tan guapa, tan jodida así.” so pretty looking so fucked out like this. 

“mm— fuck, please,” y/n flinched at the feeling of mark’s fingers pinching on her nipple and fernando’s thumb rubbing her clit simultaneously. she yelped in pleasure, her eyes tearing up as she wailed, “want you two to cum in me— fuck, nando- mark!” 

“want us to cum inside you, yeah?” mark spoke breathlessly, the two men increasing their pace and intensity as she nodded against his chest. “can’t wait to see you full of me and fernando again, sweetheart.” 

“and these tits, fuck, hermosa,” fernando groaned, “can’t wait to see it full of milk again. you’re gonna look so fucking hot when you’re pregnant.” 

“like she did before when she had our little girl,” mark added with a chuckle, eventually groaning as he said, “you’re gonna make us so happy- you’re gonna make our little girl happy, baby.” 

“m- i want your cum, please,” she pleaded, her walls clenching as the men both groaned in pleasure. “fuck me harder! shit~ fill me up-“

“you want us to fuck you full, hm?” fernando moaned, now fucking her harder from the bottom as he continued, “fuck- i’m cumming, hermosa. hah~ fuck!” 

“oh~ hah,” mark groaned in her ear as he shot his load inside her. fernando did too, slowly thrusting and coating her cunt white like mark did. 

y/n whimpered, her body limping against fernando as the three of them eased off their orgasms. her body shook violently between the two of them before she took a deep breath and wiped her sweat off her forehead. 

she then looked at fernando and chuckled, pressing a kiss on his lips once more before moving to his side. mark had returned from the bathroom to clean her off.

she pursed her lips as she said, “would it be too late if i say that we didn’t need fuck like rabbits to get pregnant?” 

mark nearly dropped the damp towel and looked at fernando with widened eyes. fernando returned the surprised look as y/n laughed quietly.

“oh you are horny, baby,” mark laughed with her, pressing a kiss on her lips, his hands hovering on her stomach before he pressed a kiss on it.

fernando shared a kiss with her too before asking, “are you really?” 

“i am,” she grinned. “i was going to show you two when i got home but you got excited. i couldn’t tell you two i was pregnant because you two were all over me.” 

“oh fuck! finally,” mark exclaimed, grinning at fernando and their wife.

“that’s one christmas gift ticked off the list for ava,” fernando laughed. “someone’s gonna be happy that her christmas is fulfilled.”

oh, the lengths that they’d go through just to spoil their kid. 

♡ moony’s reminder 🅶 (general): @hiraethrhapsody @avaleineandafryingpan @topguncultleader @enhacolor @roseandtulips @woweewoowa @magnummagnussen @happy-nico @architect-2015

♡   moony’s reminder 🅴 (explicit edition): @glitterf1 @savrose129

#fernando alonso smut #mark webber smut #fernando alonso imagine #mark webber imagine #formula one imagine #formula one smut #f1 imagine #f1 smut #fa14 #mw2 #fernando alonso #mark webber #♔ something sinful ⎯ f1 smut #fernando alonso x reader #mark webber x reader #formula 1 #formula one x reader

[mickyschumacher]

hi! I love the way you write and I’d love to see some Daniel Ricciardo or Oscar Piastri content!! Older brother’s best friend and something including model!reader or figureskater!reader. I also cannot begin to describe how much I love your Taylor song based fics. I was hooked on Style and Dress, thank you, have a wonderful day :)

𝐈 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 .ೃ࿐

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: you don't have much in common with oscar piastri other than three things: you're both rare talents, you know each other through your older brother, and that, unknowingly, you both really like each other.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: older brother's best friend trope! (although not heavily enforced), suggestive but nothing crude, poor ice skating knowledge, mentions of the spa track, crashing and DNFing, reader likes to blame things on alcohol, lily (oscar's current gf) is his ex (oops), slight diss of tsitp, jealousy!!!, scene of harassment and a creepy man, a physical altercation in which oscar gets physically hurt, attending the wounded scene! (sobbing rn), a cute and horribly cheesy, fluffy ending!

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: oscar piastri x figureskater!fem!reader, arthur leclerc x reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 5k+ (um srry hehe)

𝐀/𝐍: i wanted to this was oscar but since he's kinda young, i did a one year age gap bc the territory of 'the older brother's best friend' for piastri is alarming to say the least. i also assumed it was a female reader due to my other works, hope that and this whole piece is okay!!

𝐏.𝐒: if you couldn't tell, it's loosely based off of taylor swift's 'i can see you' bc i ended up losing track lmao. sorry for taking FOREVER but coming back from holiday, going straight back into uni, and having writer's block is the worst combo 🤧 as usual, poorly proof read!

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

⋆  •°.  。  .°•  ⋆

In a world of billions, quite strangely yet only logically, there were many talented people across the globe. But very few were be a World Champion let alone the opportunity. You were part of this few. The Youngest World Champion in figure skating in history, a two-time World Champion and the 2022 Olympic winner.

You were a living legacy in your town.

Of course, you couldn't do it without the support of the people you loved. Your parents attended all your competitions. In fact, your father was the one who had brought you to the ice when you were three. And your brother, no matter how much of a menace he was, he was your number one fan. Despite all the things he had to do, he was always there for you.

Your brother was one of those Australian boys who had turned their passion for dirt biking into a career for motorcross racing.

Naturally, he had found a friend who was also very interested in racing. However, instead he loved driving a open wheel single-seater formula racing car at crazy speeds. That friend was Oscar Piastri. A childhood best friend of your brother's and a sort of acquaintance slash family friend of yours.

It worried you two see some of the most important people in your lives risk death almost every day but you enjoyed watching them do something they loved.

You could see it in their eyes when they raced. It was the same passion you had for the ice. The slivers of ice that occasionally touched your skin thrilled you was the same excitement that coursed through the two Aussies when they felt their engines rev.

It was odd. You could've sworn a few days ago, you were all kids playing in the backyard of your house; your brother riding his toy bike while Oscar raced him on foot and you commentated in Oscar's favour to piss your brother off. And now all three of you were leading your careers: you were a competitive figure skater, your brother was slamming the MXGP and Oscar was one of the best rookies introduced to F1 in a while.

Where time had gone... you could not even begin to wonder. Heck, once upon a time you were staring down Oscar in the school hallways because for some reason you could only talk to him outside of school. And now... well, it was complicated to say the least.

You had always liked Oscar. It was difficult not to. He was always around you. The boyish charm, the small smiles, the puppy brown eyes, his offers to help you with your homework, you visiting him when he raced... everything had built up inside you. It was festering.

But that's how you liked it. You didn't want to cross any lines. As heart-racing and flustering as your crush on him was, you could not bear the idea of telling someone who was brotherly to you that you liked him.

It was repulsing.

And as far as his dating history could went, Oscar didn't like you. Oscar wasn't a player but he definitely didn't like being single from what you could tell.

To be honest, considering you didn't see him that much due both of your schedules, nothing between the both of you would've ever happened if you're annual family holiday hadn't happened.

Your family and the Piastri's took time out at least once a year to relax together. And this year, your brother and Oscar's breaks overlapped, and you had persuaded your coach for two weeks off. That was all the both of your parents needed before booking a trip to Greece. Everyone wanted to go when they were younger and now they could finally go.

Two weeks... not much could happen. At least so you thought.

The moment you saw Oscar in Greece, your heart thumped against your chest like it had never before and you knew you were screwed. It was ridiculous. How after all the time did you still like this stupid driver? He was the root cause of your lonely love life. Which for most figure skaters was not a big deal... you had prospect lovers falling left and right. Especially the guys in pair skating. But no... you were head over heels for Oscar out of all people.

With the firm boundaries you had made, you ventured to not make a big deal about what you were feeling and pushed it to the side. But the thing about pushing things away, they have a funny way of coming back up.

━━━━━━━━━━━

On the first night of your much needed vacation, you had found one of the most popular restaurants in Santorini while endlessly browsing through social media and decided to get everyone out of the lovely AirBnB you had rented. Upon arriving, your parents and Oscar's were cooped up on one side of the dining table, leaving the 'kids', as your mother calls you three, on the other.

You released a sigh of content, feeling the crisp breeze dance past your skin in the warm summer evening air while your sip of assyrtiko (Greek white wine) slipped past your throat far too easily. Thank God you had chosen an outdoor restaurant tonight. Every time you were on holiday, you couldn't be more grateful to get away from all the stress. If you could live like this every day, with the warm breezy evenings and the amazing architecture, you would.

"So," your mother started, her voice hitting your direction. You flickered your gaze over to her, raising a brow. "How are my kids' love lives? Are you getting down?" She waggled her eyebrows behind her glasses.

A wave of heat pricked your skin at your mother's words. "Mom!" You hissed out in disbelief while your father and Oscar's parents chuckled.

"What? You guys never tell me anything anymore! I used to be the holder of all your secrets and now... now I am an old woman!" Your mother cried, wiping an invisible tear off of her cheek.

You and your brother blankly looked at her and then towards each other. To say your mother was a character was an understatement. She enjoyed her theatrics far too much for anyone's liking, more specifically you're liking.

Oscar grinned, reaching out his hand to hover over hers. "You could never be an old woman. Always young in my heart."

Your brother snorted at Oscar's cheesiness. After you and your brother, Oscar was your mother's son and Oscar was a suck-up. He liked being in the good books, especially that of your mother's.

"Of course," Your mother chuckled softly, patting Oscar's hand gently. She sucked in a sharp breath. "What happen to you and Lily? I heard you two broke up? I thought you liked her a lot?"

You could see Oscar tense at the mention of his ex, your own body rigid. It wasn't a surprise to you but you actually hated hearing about Oscar's love life. Unrequited feelings were already a bitch and you didn't need to make it any worse.

Oscar cleared his throat, a small smiling tugging at his lips. "I thought I did too..." He trailed off, falling into his own trance momentarily. Suddenly his eyes flickered around his surroundings before they landed on you. "I guess I just saw something I else I liked a lot more."

A slight shiver crept down your spine and your heart travelled towards your ears. You pressed your lips tightly together, furrowing your brows.

What the fuck?

You snapped your eyes away, firmly placing them on your empty plate that suddenly held your entire world. Oscar had never ever looked at you like that. Any time you looked into those puppy browns, they were usually some mix between happy, anger, annoyance, sadness, humour, and the God forbidden 'I-see-you-as-my-sister' type love.

But this... this was something else entirely. The softness of his gaze, his words, the timing of it all; a perfect execution of sorts... it was a first.

Maybe you had taken one too many sips of the wine. It was the only reasonable explanation behind your obvious hallucination.

Sooner or later, the sun would set, a main reason behind your picking of the restaurant. The parents and your brother were at the front of the house, arguing about who paid for tonight's dinner. You were more than happy to wait it out on the balcony and revel in the last few rays of light, eyes closed and the breeze dancing across your skin.

"Well don't you look happy," Oscar voice stated, nearing you.

You opened your eyes, slightly turning your head to the side only to look back a few second later. Oscar and sunsets... you enjoyed that combo far too much for your liking.

"That's because I am. Sometimes being off the ice is refreshing," You told him, taking in a breath of the fresh evening air.

Out of your peripheral vision you could see Oscar tilt his head, eyes raking over you with a small grin tugging at his lips. You ignored the pace of your heart as he nodded at your remark, settling in next you with his hands on the balcony bar, a mere inch away from your own.

"I hear that," Oscar sighed, looking out at the horizon.

You forced yourself to look over at him, trying to read his mind after hearing the burdened sigh he released. "Oscar... I hope you know you're doing well in F1 right now. You're doing pretty good compared to Lando's rookie year."

Oscar smiled gently. You knew him far too well. "I know. I just... I feel like everyone's expecting so much more of me. Podiums... race wins... like everything else I've done. And then Spa came along."

You winced at the mention of the track. Oscar had collided with Carlos on the very first lap. Carlos said Oscar was too optimistic about making that turn and Oscar said that he didn't even know what Carlos doing; that the Spaniard turned as if he wasn't even on the track. Nevertheless, the collision resulted in both of them DNFing.

You snorted. "Spa is a shit track," You dismissed Oscar's current pessimism with a wave of your hand.

Oscar chuckled at your crudeness. He couldn't disagree with you. Spa was one of those tracks which felt auspicious to any driver. The one where you hoped you at least passed the finishing line. It didn't matter what your position was... as long as you passed it, you were okay.

"Guys come on! We've finished paying," Your brother called out.

The both of you turned around. Oscar pushed himself off of the bar, heading towards your brother. "Who won this one?" He asked in amusement, hands gliding past his waist. Ever so gently, in his walk, he teetered towards you, letting his hand brush past your own, sending a tingle down both of you.

You gulped at the racing feeling, immediately pulling your hand closer to yourself. This hairs of your body stood straight and your fingers felt numb. Heck, you felt numb.

Damn, you thought, this is some crazy good wine.

━━━━━━━━━━━

The thing about your inclination to blame everything on the alcohol you consumed was that it only actually worked if you consumed alcohol. You were lucky if you could extend to the remaining bits by a day with the claims of a hangover.

But right now, you were sober as hell.

An unfortunate event, to say the least.

"Y/N, wake up," Oscar's voice pounded against your blanketed, muffled ears.

"Ugh, no" You groaned, cocooning yourself into your blanket and pressing your head further into your pillow, savouring the warmth.

You always had such early mornings when you trained, waking up at ungodly hours only to workout before heading to the rink. Being on the ice was the only thing you loved. Your fans were sweet but everything else after that, the press, the workouts, the food, sucked. So you cherished the late summer morning in Santorini. And no person, let alone a boy who announced his F1 team to you by saying "I'm driving for a papaya", was going to ruin this for you.

Oscar put his hands on his hips, eyeing you with a twitch in his eye. "But breakfast is ready. I cooked!"

You laughed into your sheets lightly. "Oh boy, that's even worse!"

Oscar looked at your peeking head and humoured eyes blankly. "That," he started to say as he began to literally pull you out of your bed by your arms, "is very very rude thing to say to the chef."

"Oscar, no! Let go!" You begged, hands flailing to attach themselves to anything. Falling on the hard cold floor was not the ideal morning for you.

At least not alone.

You jutted out your leg, nudging Oscar's to the side, making him stumble over his steps. As he quickly realised he was losing balance, he threw his body under yours, creating a soft landing for you as you both fell to the floor.

You were laughing too hard to realise Oscar's one hand had even moved to your waist and the other to your head, as if it was to protect you from getting hurt.

"Oh my God! You should've seen your face! It was like–" You turned to mimic his expression but you couldn't find the words. All the air around you had been seized, your throat was dry and you were breathless.

When had Oscar's face become so close to yours?

You couldn't remember the last time you were this close to him. Probably as a child. He was cute back then as well. But growing up changed the both of you. The most apparent reminder of how old you were was the tiny short hairs from his chin that he always tried to shave off. His eyes were still as brown as ever, less big because he grew into his face. And his lips... they were kissable.

His face was also littered with freckles here and there. You didn't even realise your finger had shot out to play connect the dots with them until you could feel his faint warm breath from how close you were.

Your eyes trailed up his face to find his gaze firmly planted on yours. Suddenly you could feel where his hands were and your skin burned at his touch. The current heatwave in Europe had left you in some thin pyjamas. You didn't regret it last night but you definitely regretted wearing them right now.

Hypnotised, you found yourself leaning in naturally. Oscar's head also nudged forward. Your lips were barely a centimetre away from each other. You could hear your name slip out of Oscar's lips as the faintest whisper. Like it was a struggle to say your name because he couldn't think.

His woody and amber scent engulfed you and for a second, you couldn't think.

Not until you could hear your brother scream both of your names from the kitchen, demanding you to come to breakfast.

You blinked, falling out of your trance as quickly as you fell in.

Oscar felt you jerk in his arms suddenly, pushing yourself out of his hold and attempting to stand up. "Y/N, I–"

No. God, no.

You weren't ruining a friendship over this.

You could pretend. Yes. Pretend. You can't see him.

"We're coming!" You yelled back, feeling your cheeks redden with embarrassment and annoyance; both vexing feeling for yourself.

God, what a day to be sober.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Honestly how this holiday had gone from zero to a hundred was beyond you.

Pretending like nothing had happened in your room was harder than you thought. Not when Oscar looked at you with these burdened eyes and like he had something to say to you, right on the tip of his tongue.

You considered avoiding him. But doing so on a family trip was easier said than done. Besides, it would've been pretty obvious to everyone else and knowing your family, they would've made a big deal out of nothing. Because that's what it was: nothing.

But alas, you have a brother. And normally, he's stupid and self-obsessed to the point it bordered on unhealthy. But as your brother, it seemed he had some sort of sixth sense for these sorts of things. Something about the older sibling being superior or whatever lies he convinced himself with.

"Why are you being weird with Oscar? Your brother asked you while you ate some ice cream and caught up with the new season of 'The Summer I Turned Pretty'. At first, you couldn't fathom watching a character called 'Belly' out of all things but somehow you got hooked.

You paused the scoop of ice cream you put in your mouth, letting it slowly melt away as you stared hard at your nuisance of a brother. "I have literally no idea what you're talking about."

"Ha, nice try. You're supposed to use 'literally' when you deny it the second time," Your brother smiled at you smugly.

You pressed your lips together, feeling your teeth slightly grind against your spoon. You couldn't decide whether you wanted to smack the shit of your brother with a spoon or bury him in a six-foot deep hole.

"Come on, lil sis, you can talk to me. Everyone's out of the house right now," He partially jested while being entirely serious.

Burying him in a hole it was.

"I have nothing to say to you," You stated, eyes reverting back to your show.

Your brother narrowed his eyes, grabbing the remote to pause the episode. Ignoring your exclaim of annoyance, he sat down next to you and took your ice cream and spoon away from you to dig into the pint for himself.

You shuddered in disgust. You were not having that flavour for a while.

He pointed your spoon at you. "I know you think I'm stupid, which I may be, but I'm not entirely an idiot. What happened with you and Oscar? You were all happy buddies a few days ago. Now he looks like a lost puppy and you look like you saw Pennywise in the hallway."

You bit down on your lip to prevent yourself from laughing. You couldn't actually let him know he was funny.

"Did he do something to you? Y/N, if he did something wrong to you I swear to God... just tell me and I will end him."

Your eyes widened at the sudden change of the conversation. Sitting up, you waved your hands in urgent dismissal. "No! Oh my God, nothing like that! Holy shit."

Your brother let a relieved exhale fall from his mouth before furrowing his brows. "Then what happened? Is it your stupid crush on him?"

"I–what?" You asked dumbfounded, looking at your brother incredulously.

"Your crush? Like the one you've had since you first laid eyes on him. You know everyone knows right? It's kinda obvious. Well, everyone but Oscar," your brother said nonchalantly.

You blinked blankly at him. "Before I throw myself off of a cliff, I can give you the generous choice of how you die? Personally I'm thinking asphyxiation, arson, or murder."

Your brother gulped, slowly putting away the ice cream. "Okay, first off stop watching Criminal Minds so much. Second of all, you don't need to feel embarrassed. All of us have been secretly rooting for you. Especially mom and Oscar's mom. You should've seen how happy they got when I told them Oscar and Lily broke up. It was seriously creepy."

You sighed, falling onto the couch. "It doesn't matter how creepy it was. We almost kissed! And then you called for us. Any later, I would've ruined our friendship. What's the point anyways? He doesn't like me. I'm gonna die in the friendzone," You dramatically sobbed out.

"Well you can start by not turning the other direction when you see him. Poor guy looks like you killed his dog. Do you think a guy who's dog was killed has any guts to speak to their murderer? And that's beside the fact that he may like his murderer."

Where was that shovel again?

"You know what you need to do? Do something that makes him talk to you. I got it! I could set you up with Arthur! He's in Santorini too! Oscar would hate it."

"Oh my God... do you want me to die?" You asked, slightly horrified at the look of pure joy on your brother's face .

Your brother grinned. "Of course, I do. Would I be your brother if I didn't?"

━━━━━━━━━━━

For as long as he could remember, Oscar was a peaceful guy. He didn't really get angry quickly. He was usually calm and usually could think before he acted.

But all those characteristics were thrown out the window, well into the air of the music festival everyone decided to attend, when he saw you walk into the event with Arthur Leclerc. His former teammate out of all people.

"Is that Arthur? Why is he here?" Oscar asked your brother.

"Hmm?" Your brother turned around, pretending to squint at the two of you briefly before catching your piercing gaze. "Oh yeah... that is him. He told me he was in Greece. Guess he found Y/N first. Makes sense I guess."

Oscar looked at your brother dubiously. "I... what does that even mean?"

"I don't know why but I always got the feeling he liked Y/N," your brother shrugged.

Oscar blinked. "You're taking the fucking piss..." He huffed in disbelief.

"What? Oh? Here they come."

Truth be told, Arthur was more than happy to oblige with your brother's game. He hadn't seen Oscar in a while because they were in different championships now. Getting the opportunity to play with him a bit was a hard offer to turn down.

"Ozzie!" Arthur cheered, bringing him into a hug.

Oscar raised a brow at you. That pet name originated from you when the three of you decided to become superheroes for a day and you decided to name eight-year-old Oscar, 'Ozzie the Mozzie' after he got bitten by one. No one else on Earth called him that but you.

"I was telling Arty here about that mozzie that bit you and he really liked Ozzie the Mozzie," You chuckled softly.

Arty...

God give him strength because Oscar wasn't sure how much longer he could bear this.

To be honest, you weren't much of a music festival type of person. It was always crowded, hot, and filled with some sort of drugs even if you couldn't see it.

But aside from that, you enjoyed the serenity it could bring; the indie music that was well on it's way to becoming pop; the calming breeze; the warming sun.

Well you would enjoy it more if a certain Aussie wasn't staring daggers to the side of your head–Arthur's head.

You felt a tap on your shoulder and you turned around to see a stranger. A somewhat attractively creepy stranger but a stranger nonetheless. You raised your brows and gave a small smile. "Yes?"

"I know you don't know me but I just saw you from over there and I wanted to say you're really pretty!"

You blinked, feeling the three boys around you stiffen at the compliment. You nodded slowly, putting on a grateful smile. "Oh, thank you so much," You responded, laughing awkwardly.

A moment of awkward silence settled in the air as the guy still remained in front of you.

"So... I was wondering if I get could get your number?" The guy asked with an odd glint in his eyes.

The alarms were ringing in your head and an uncomfortable shiver went down your spine. "Uh, I'm sorry. I... I don't really want to. But thanks for your offer," You politely declined.

"Oh come on. I called you pretty... that's gotta be worth your number. Come on."

Oh.

Honestly, you were speechless. Your number which for him was the leeway into your intimate life was worth a compliment.

"Yeah, I don't think so," You quipped sharply, gritting your teeth.

"Come on, baby girl. Let me show you a fun time." The guy stepped forward, his hand reaching towards your body.

You froze at his words. You wanted to move but you couldn't.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Oscar, Arthur, and your brother step in front of you.

"Mate, fuck off. She doesn't want you," Oscar pushed the guy away from you.

Your brother snorted. "I don't think anyone wants him."

The guy sneered, making you wince. He raised his hands in a feigned defence, beginning to turn away from you. Thank God. "Fine. I didn't want a girl like you anyways. All these guys around you... a whore."

Arthur and you, as the pacifists you were, watched in silent horror as your brother poked his tongue in his cheek and Oscar's head quickly whipped towards the guy.

"Oscar..." You warned meekly as Arthur tried to get your brother's attention.

The last thing any of you needed was famed athletes on the front page of ESPN, cited as the cause of a brawl.

"What did you say?" Oscar raised a brow, ignoring your pleas and walking towards the guy. His tone was dark and the total opposite of what he normally sounded like. He was raged.

"The truth," The guy chuckled. "I said she's a whore. Why? What are you gonna do about it, little boy?"

Yeah see, the guy most definitely had a couple of inches on Oscar and you brother. You weren't really keen on seeing them get pummelled to the ground.

Oscar said nothing in response but raised his fist, slamming it into the side of the guy's jaw.

Oh for fuck's sake.

As if the guy had lightening reflexes, the guy quickly pulled his head back up and got a hold of Oscar, getting into a cycle of punches.

Your heart dropped at the sight. Your brother, thank God, and Arthur quickly realised that Oscar wasn't winning anything here, stepping in to push the two men apart. A small crowd began to gather, some thankfully aiding in trying to stop whatever was going on.

Arthur pulled Oscar away and towards you. You held Oscar against you, clutching him tightly as your heart raced in your ears. Somewhere in the muffled sounds you could hear your brother.

"We're going home. Now."

━━━━━━━━━━━

Your brother and Arthur had decided to go explain the situation the both of your parents who were out having lunch because you couldn't blame all those bruises and dry blood on Oscar's face by saying he fell. This left you to clean up Oscar to reduce the risk of your parents having a heart attack.

You clenched your jaw, holding the first aid kid and a wet cloth to your side as you walked towards the seated racing driver who had found a lot of interest in the floor all of a sudden while icing his face.

"I can't believe you," You mumbled in annoyance, taking a seat next to him. You gently grabbed his chin, putting side the ice bag, trying to decide on where to start cleaning but you could only wince at his face. His bottom lip and his brow was slightly torn, the side of his jaw and the top of his cheek had started to bruise, and his nose was a blood fest.

All the pain Oscar felt began to disappear as he felt your hands gently graze past his skin, scouting all the damage that had occurred. He looked at your pained eyes and internally sighed. He hated seeing you in pain. "He was disrespecting you. I wasn't going to just let it go."

You rolled your eyes, slowly wiping away the dry blood. "He was like six foot two, Oscar. You're like five foot. He could've ki... he could've really hurt you," You jested before your voice fell into a bare whisper.

Oscar's heart clenched as you went back on your words, watching you grab some antiseptic with shaky hands. He grabbed your hands, holding them with his own and softly looked into your eyes. "But he didn't. I'm fine. See?" He smiled widely before wincing at the pain shooting through his face.

You snorted. "As if."

"Hey, you're talking to a guy who crashes at most craziest speeds. Bet that guy can't do that," Oscar shrugged nonchalantly.

You narrowed your eyes. "If you weren't already hurt, I would've smacked the shit out of you right now. Just so you know."

Oscar grinned at you. "Ah, there's the ever kind Y/N I love."

You rolled your eyes before processing what he had just said. As friends. Friendly love. Right. You shook your head out of your trance, removing your hands from his and returning back to the stupid first aid kit next to you.

Oscar mended his brows together. "Hey," he tapped your thigh, "you heard what I said right?"

"Hmm? Oh, yeah," You said idly, opening the tube of antiseptic cream.

"What? I..." Oscar sighed, taking the cream out of your hands before pulling you closer to him. His hands held your face, looking you dead in the eye. "I said I love you, Y/N. You know... the type where you look at someone and all you know is that you can't breathe without them? The one in your books?"

Your mouth felt dry. You blinked blankly. Your hands felt clammy. You chuckled nervously. "Pfft, what? You don't love me. You mean as a friend, right? I think you need some medicine. Maybe there's some in this kit." Your eyes darted down, frantically looking around the box as your heart thudded against your chest.

"Hey, hey," Oscar called, using his hand to turn your chin towards him. "I don't. I mean, I do love you as a friend, but no. I love love you."

"Well... what about about Lily?"

"As I said... I realised I loved someone else more," Oscar told you, letting his confession sink into your mind. "You know... if your idiot brother didn't call us that day, I definitely would've kissed you."

Oh.

Well.

That was something.

This was real. You weren't dreaming. You hadn't died. Oscar, your childhood best friend and your brother's best friend, was confessing to you.

"Huh... well, if it's any consolation, I probably would've kissed you too," You retorted, trying to keep your quirking lips at bay before you began smiling for too much for anyone's liking.

"Probably? That kinda sucks. Are you sure you wouldn't have definitely kissed me?" Oscar grinned, grabbing your waist and seating you down on his lap.

"Hmm... I mean maybe. This current environment is nowhere near as enticing as my bedroom. I mean what is sexier than me waking up, am I right?" You joked, trying to cover up the fact that you were dying at the proximity between you two.

Oscar pushed a lock of your hair behind your ear, letting his fingers trail down your cheek, holding your jaw while his thumb grazed your lips. "Well, I can think of a few other things."

You silently watched as Oscar leaned in and pressed his lips against yours. His lips were softer than you could ever imagine.

You blinked, taking a mere second to register what was going on. Oscar Piastri was kissing you. Holy shit, Oscar Piastri was kissing you!

You kissed him back, feeling his hand wrap around the back of your neck and the other holding you steady against him. Your skin burned at his touch, feeling his fingers snake past the hem of your shirt and rest on your hot skin.

Oddly enough, despite your heat, goosebumps sprawled across every inch of your skin as his tongue darted out, exploring your own, giving you access to his mouth.

You could've sworn you were walking on fire. One more step and you could've combusted. Your thighs clenched at the moan that slipped from Oscar's mouth as your teeth tugged on his bottom lip, your hands roaming around his chest and his arms.

Oscar's hand wrapped around your hair, enjoying the softness he had wanted touch ever since he realised he had feelings for you. His pants felt tight as he felt your hand brush against his bare torso. Fuck. You were going to do him in. He fell back further into the couch, holding you tighter against him.

The desire you had was blinding you. Your other hand fell to his cheek, forgetting about his injuries till Oscar murmured an "ouch".

You retracted your hands, pulling back from his lips, a move Oscar clearly didn't enjoy as his eyes followed your lips. "Shit!" You exclaimed, "the antiseptic! Sorry!"

Oscar paused in his trance, realising what you were talking about. He smiled softly, lips widening even further when he saw your swollen lips and flushed cheeks.

You carefully applied the cream to his brow before moving to his lips. "The diagnosis for you Mr Piastri is no more kissing for you," You grinned.

Oscar looked at you dumbfounded. "I–what? For how long?"

"Mmm... a week?"

"A week?" Oscar repeated in exasperation. "There is no way I can last that long. Not after this. Besides I'm pretty sure kissing actually helps you heal faster."

Your skin warmed further at his confession. You cleared your throat and held his hands. "I am confident that is not scientifically true."

Oscar narrowed his eyes, lips quirking in amusement. "You need to read better medical journals, doc."

You tilted your head to the side, leaning in further. "I think I have an alternative."

"Yeah?" Oscar's eyes danced across your face, smiling softly. "What is it?"

"It's less practical, more theoretical. Confessional, if you will," You shrugged, letting your forehead rest against his.

Oscar shut his eyes, enjoying the warmth of you. "Oh really? Don't let me stop you."

"I love you, Oscar. I've loved you since we were little heroes running around in the backyard."

Oscar opened his eyes, hands wrapping around your waist. He smiled widely at you. "Are you sure you said a week?"

You rolled your eyes, hitting his chest playfully. "I'm sure."

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑

#mickyschumacher #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula 1 #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri imagine

[vminizzle]

Stay quiet for me

pairing : boyfriend!jungkook x f.reader

genre : smut, fluffy tones?

warnings : pet names, swearing, marking, penetration, unprotected sex, cockwarming, slapping (once)

words count : 0.9k

A/N : hi hi everyone, I hope y’all doing good. Here’s a little something to thank y’all for your support on my recent fics and for the 100 followers!! love y’all. My english still sucks but aye let’s go! (also I want to precise that I’m a new writer I’m not experienced, I’ll try to do better for the upcoming fics *sigh*)

FEEDBACKS ARE VERY WELCOMED ♡

M RATED 

“fuck, go faster.” Jungkook said as he gripped your hips tighter. You could tell that you were going to have bruises later by the way his fingers were buried into the soft flesh. You were trying the best you could to make the both of you reach your high.

His hard-on was filling you up deliciously, so deep, it felt too good. You could feel every inch of him as you moved up and down on him. His hair was sticked on his forehead, sweat covering your bodies .

Your loud moans escaping from your lips as Jungkook gripped your neck connecting his beautiful lips on the abused skin. Sucking softly, tongue caressing the marks he left, making you whimper at the sensitive stimulation. You were so close to finishing when you heard Jungkook’s phone rang. He cursed before sighing, dropping his head on your shoulder. It was late at night who could it be, you wondered.

He grabbed his phone to check who it was making you stop curiously. Jungkook moved his hand to slap your ass lightly “don’t stop baby” he groaned. He bucked his hips suddenly making you lost your balance. “Jungkook” you moaned. Your thighs were so sore, it’s been more than 15 minutes since you started riding him. “it h-hurts babe” you sobbed softly.

"Yoongi is calling, stay quiet for me, you can do that for me love, huh?” he caressed your cheek making you close your eyes nodding at him softly “ that’s my girl” he pecked your lips. 

Before Jungkook picked up the call, he lifted your body laying you gently on the bed considered all the efforts you did. He looked into your eyes to make sure everything was alright for you.

He grabbed his phone, picking up Yoongi’s call, putting it on speaker “wassup dude! sorry I know it’s late but I was wondering if you’re ok if I modify my verse in our last demo. I want to exchange some parts with Jimin. So I could see which one is better” you listened to the deep voice echoing through the room. It was Taehyung…

Jungkook looked at you with an emotionless face, you were about to laugh when he hit your g-spot with a particular hard thrust. You bit your lip trying to block the noises threatening to escape as he smirked at your reaction.

"bro you here?” Taehyung asked “yea yea I’m here. Why do you have Yoongi’s phone ? And yea I think it c-can work. Make sure to not- shit-” He groaned louder than he would had think.

“man, you good?” Taehyung asked confused.

“yes! yes!” Jungkook replied.

“hmm, so yea. I’m with Yoongi that’s why I have his phone, mine’s dead. Don’t worry  I’ll be careful not to modify too much since we really liked how it sounded and all. Yoongi is with us so everything will be fine” Taehyung started blabbing while Jungkook tried his best to hit the places he knows that could make you scream his name.

His friend long forgotten when you gripped his long black locks, pulling him in a passionate kiss. He put his hand on your cheek as he kept devouring your lips.

“Kook? can you hear m-” 

“yea yea, I-I  trust you” Jungkook replied out of breath.

“sorry if i disturbed you this late, thank y-” Taehyung started apologizing.

“It’s o-ok, bye!” Jungkook ended the call, throwing his phone away. 

He grabbed your left thigh, lifting it up a little higher so he could hit deeper “f-fuck, you feel so good”. He was getting near, you knew it. You scrached his back as he left little kisses on your chest “Jungkook go faster please”.

He bit his lips as he gripped onto the headboard with one hand for support. You threw your head back into the pillow, the pleasure building in your stomach getting too much. You looked up at him, his hair practically wet, muscles contracting every time he made a move, his lips red from all the biting and kisses, his eyes rolling to the back of his head .

This view made you feel butterflies in your stomach. The bed kept on hitting the wall repeatedly “fuck! I’m gonna cum!” you sobbed.

Jungkook lowered himself to put his forehead on yours, trying to catch his breath “me too!”.

You both moaned as your walls started tightening around him uncontrollably. You grabbed the sheet tightly as you came, your fingernails digging into the flesh of his bicep. He continued thrusting into you to help you ride your high as you pulled on his hair “please cum inside me baby please”. He could only moan at your words. He held your hips as he cummed inside you immediately your words exciting him more than you thought. 

The warm liquid filled you up to the brim, some flowing on the bed sheet. “damn” he cursed watching his cum dripping out of you “you’re so hot”.

You laughed pulling him down on you “let’s stay like this for a while please?” you asked shyly.

“you want me to stay inside?” he looked up at you curious as you nod caressing his cheek, your other hand running up and down his scratched back. He kissed you neck whispering an “I love you y/n” before cuddling you. “I love you Jungkook” you kissed the top of his head.

–

“guys is it just me or he seemed weird? like sick?” Taehyung asked a bit lost. 

“nah. boy was getting laid” Yoongi said smirking making Jimin laugh loudly his head falling on Taehyung’s shoulder as he clap his hands. 

—

A/N : sorry I had to make a little Vmin appearance hehe ,, ♡ I hope you guys liked it :) thank you for your support!

#bts #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #bts suggestive #bts x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #Jungkook imagines #jungkook scenarios #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #Jungkook suggestive #jungkook x reader #kpop smut #bts hard thoughts #bts hard hours #bangtan fanfic #bangtan smut #bangtan fanfiction

[ivysangel]

crying and starving..need jayroy..threesome..!!! save me!!!

(the way a jayroy threesome would actually fix me like hmmm let's take a little visit to the roommates!au !! also thank u for this ask lumi my beloved. a study needs to be done on how you keep curing my writers block)

you hadn't known them as long as they had known each other, and when you initially moved in, you'd felt like an outsider, wondering if it was too late to find another set of roommates with less history between them. somehow, you ended up being the missing piece in their friendship, and so the three of you evidently found a home in one another. in the apartment you shared, the couch you'd fallen asleep on many times waiting up for them, the kitchen jason’s banned you two from after you almost set the house on fire when he was out town, the bottle of shampoo you bought for one that was now shared between three. articles of clothing that no longer had one owner, the surplus of snacks in the cabinet that never seemed to run out or even run low. it's in the stolen bites of food, the hamper that never gets too full, the tv show you know you could've finished ages ago if it hadn't been for the promise that you wouldn't watch if all three of you weren't together; and you kept your promise. even when they were gone for weeks, radio silent, leaving you with a godawful cliffhanger to think about until they returned bruised and blooded, but eager to find out which character was getting killed off next. and return they did, tired and in pain; so you waited even longer until the night they both joined you on the couch, roy taking the remote and finding where you left off while jason made some popcorn in the kitchen.

it was in the way those tv show catch ups often ended with you naked, purple marks littered across your body, legs shaking, and tears streaming down your face. people talking on the tv still playing in the background, but you could barely hear it over the lewd sounds of the two men fucking you. starting with roy in your mouth and jason in your pussy until he got his fill, or as much as he could before roy started complaining that he was being a hog, and then switching places. now you lay on the couch, back flat against the soft cushions as roy holds himself above you, palms leaving indents in the sofa while he fucks you deep, and jason's got your head turned, cheek pressed flat against the plush cushion, as he rocks his hips into your mouth back and forth; the sensations of both overwhelming you as you start to approach your third orgasm. it was always a game between them to see which one could put you over the edge first; which nipple pinch or brush against your clit made you start shedding tears and beg for a break. they'd argue about it for days after too, even going as far as to ask you who the victor was, and each time, you'd tell them it was both. the way they'd fold you like a pretzel, the feeling of them alternating between fucking and teasing you, the lockjaw you got after giving them head, their muscles underneath your fingernails as you dug into their skin, searching for something to ground you, and the tickle of their hair when they got really close to your neck. the way jason's cum was thicker and roy's load was heavier, but they both ended up inside you almost every night before you were cleaned off and showered with praise. you may not have known it a few months ago but you definitely knew it now; it would always be the both of them for you, and it would always be you for both of them.

#★ dirty laundry ★ #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd smut #jason todd x you #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood smut #red hood x you #roy harper #roy harper x reader #roy harper smut #roy harper x you #jason todd lover #roy harper lover #★ lumi ★

[lonely-cowboy]

beautifully human

pairing: connor (rk800) x f!reader

summary: after noticing the way connor looks at other androids, you worry that you may never have a chance with him. but what you don't know is that he has only ever had eyes for you.

word count: 2.9k

warnings: insecure reader, mentions of death (they literally talk about dying in an elevator) (spoiler alert: it doesn't happen), probably ooc connor, west coast dialect went a little too hard in the dialogue, some very specific physical descriptions that i also tried to keep as general as possible? you'll see what i mean ig

author's note: glad to report that this account is lowkey helping me get over my writer's block, so that's amazing for me. anyway. as usual, feel free to leave any critiques on how i can improve my writing, characterization, etc.! :)

masterlist ⟡ requests

You hated that your investigation brought you to the Eden Club. You didn’t necessarily hate the Eden Club or its workers, but you hated that you had to go with Connor and Hank. It would’ve been embarrassing enough to go with just Hank, but adding Connor to the mix made you want to collapse to the ground and never move again. But you were a professional, so if you had to go with Connor and Hank then you could suck it up for a night. Hopefully.

The moment you stepped inside the club, you were filled with unease. Your stomach churned and your shoulders scrunched up high as if you were trying to hide from the world. To handle your discomfort, you turned cold and distant, observing everything and everyone with an icy glare. You trailed behind Hank and Connor as you scanned your surroundings, doing your very best to look at everything but Connor.

You couldn’t look at Connor in this place without being filled with a displaced sense of anger. You couldn’t help but wonder if he looked at these androids with infatuation or desire. Did he find them beautiful? Did he want them in the same way you wanted him? You knew they were stupid thoughts, but you couldn’t control them. Somehow, Connor had weaseled his way into your heart and refused to leave no matter how hard you tried.

Distracted by your foggy mind, you almost bumped right into Connor when he stopped to admire a Traci, his soft gaze exploring her body through the glass barrier. You watched as the Traci smiled gently at him, her hand reaching forward to touch the glass like she was trying to caress his cheek. Connor didn’t move to reciprocate her action, but he still appeared to be in awe. It only made your scowl deepen.

You hated that you were consumed by jealousy because you knew– deep down– that it stemmed from insecurity. This Traci was made to be beautiful. She was made to be desired and worshipped. In her limited clothing, there wasn’t much left to the imagination. Her body was the epitome of perfect with its soft curves and smooth skin. She was a perfect balance of sweet and charismatic. She was everything that you assumed a man wanted, and androids were no exception. From the way Connor looked at her, you were sure she was everything he wanted too. 

You sighed in frustration before marching away as Hank called to Connor. You refused to let your jealousy– or anything you felt for Connor– get in the way of your investigation. But no matter how hard you tried, your mind was still drawn to him.

Maybe you had been too hopeful, but you really had thought that maybe– just maybe– Connor had felt something for you. Apparently, you were just far more delusional than you thought.

While Hank discussed the crime scene with Officer Miller, you stood to the side looking uncharacteristically cold. With your arms folded over your chest and a hard, almost bored look in your eye, it was clear that you weren’t particularly interested in talking to anyone. You assumed that would be obvious to everyone, androids included. And it seemed that it had been obvious, but that certainly didn’t stop Connor.

From the corner of your eye, you could see Connor watching you with a confused glint. His LED flashed yellow as he analyzed your body language, working to only make your blood boil. You knew there was no reason to be angry with him, so why did your anger persist? Why did you feel so unreasonably jealous? He was just a man, after all, nothing more.

Connor approached you with his hands clasped behind his back, standing beside you and following your cold gaze. He was silent for a moment, pleased to simply be in your presence even when you were acting so stony.

“You’re unusually quiet, Detective,” Connor observed. “This is not within your typical behavioral patterns. Are you feeling alright?”

“I’m fine,” you answered dismissively. “Don’t you have a body to analyze?”

Connor paused again, pursing his lips in a way that was so oddly human. In a gentle tone, he said, “Well… yes. But that’s usually something we do together.”

“Why?” you hissed, feeling suddenly riled now that Connor was talking to you. Why was he giving you this attention? Why was he acting like he cared about you? You knew he didn’t. At least, your clouded mind let you think he didn’t. “It’s not like you need my help. You can do everything on your own, I’m useless to you.”

Connor turned his body towards you fully, a deep crease settling between his brows. His LED continued to circle yellow as he studied you once again. That made you roll your eyes which seemed to be enough of a hint for Connor. With his LED still glowing yellow, he turned away without another word, allowing you to resume your wallowing in misery. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You were still fuming as Hank drove you home. With Connor in the front seat, you were stuck in the back, glaring daggers into his back. How had such a clueless android managed to lure you in and make you jealous purely because he wasn’t interested in you?

As Connor jabbered on about something or other, you stared out the car window absentmindedly. You couldn’t help but imagine the Traci on the other side of the window, reaching out and smiling that perfect smile that made you never want to smile again.

You glanced at Connor as he fell silent. He turned to look out the window, making you cringe at the idea that he truly was thinking of the Traci. But you failed to notice his eyes transfixed on you through the side mirror, his gaze gentle and curious as he admired your stubborn look. He stared at you dreamily the rest of the car ride. 

When you finally reached your apartment building, Hank had barely stopped the car before you were clambering out and slamming the door behind you.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you grumbled, having enough decency to give Hank a small wave. 

As you trudged towards your apartment building, you froze at the sound of another car door opening and closing. You cursed under your breath, hesitant to turn for fear of whom you might find. As you glanced over your shoulder, you cursed again as your fear came true. Connor approached you with long strides, leaving behind a very confused-looking Hank.

“I’ll walk you to your apartment,” Connor offered innocently. 

You stared at him blankly and muttered, “Connor, my building is right here. I just need to go up a few floors. I know how to use an elevator, I’ll manage just fine on my own.”

You turned and continued towards your building, not surprised when you heard Connor follow.

“The chances of an elevator-related death are one in 10.5 million,” Connor continued in that matter-of-fact tone that you usually found so endearing. 

When Connor didn’t elaborate, you stopped and turned to him again with a raised brow. You waited for more, but it still didn’t come. Connor just stared at you pleasantly, drinking in your charmingly confused face.

“Okay…,” you said. “So like I said, I’ll be fine on my own.”

“But the chance of it happening is still possible, so it’s best if I escort you,” Connor continued. His grin widened as you rolled your eyes in acceptance. As an afterthought, he added, “Just in case.” 

In silence, the two of you made your way up the elevator (where you did not, in fact, die) and to your apartment. You stood outside the door and turned to Connor, ready to send him away in the hopes that if you couldn’t see him then you wouldn’t be overwhelmed by images of him and that Traci. But you knew that wasn’t the case because even when he was long gone you would still think about how you couldn’t be enough for him. You weren’t pretty enough for such an angelic being like him, not when other beautifully crafted androids existed.

“May I come in?” Connor inquired before you could even open your mouth.

No.

You wanted to say no so desperately. You wanted him to leave. You wanted to bury yourself under your bed sheets and never see him again.

But he was still your friend, and you were still a decent enough person. It would be rude to reject him.

“Sure,” you replied softly, opening the door to allow the two of you in.

The moment you closed the door, Connor was already asking questions that you were not at all prepared for.

“You were upset today,” he noted. “Do you want to talk about how you feel?”

“I… what?” you stammered. “Since when are you a therapist android?”

“I’m not a therapist android, but as your companion, I care about your well-being,” Connor answered far too casually for your liking.

Companion? Well-being?

“Yeah, I doubt that,” you mumbled without thinking.

You were stupid to think Connor wouldn’t have heard you. With his sensitive hearing, he heard you loud and clear. Your comment made him tilt his head curiously and narrow his eyes.

“Why would I not care about you?” he asked, the genuine confusion in his voice making your resolve melt. 

“That’s not… it’s just…,” you blabbered, throwing your hands up in exasperation as you struggled to find the right words. “I wouldn’t expect you to care about me the same way–”

You stopped abruptly, eyes wide as your mind finally caught up to your yapping mouth. You could not finish that sentence.

Connor’s eyes narrowed further at your sudden pause. He took a cautious step forward, then another. You knew that he had already noticed the way your heartbeat accelerated, your breath suddenly caught in your throat. “The same way… what?” he repeated, urging you to finish your sentence.

“It’s nothing, it’s stupid,” you dismissed. 

Connor murmured your name as if he were scolding a child, raising a brow as a sign of encouragement to finish.

“Well… I wouldn’t expect you to care about me… the same way… the same way I care about you,” you said, the last part coming out far too hurried. 

Maybe if you had just finished your sentence the first time you wouldn’t be in this situation. That was a perfectly normal thing to say to a friend, wasn’t it? Absolutely. Absolutely… But the way you had paused only made you look more suspicious. You knew Connor was smart enough to understand the suggestion of romantic feelings.

“How is it you feel about me?” Connor questioned.

“It doesn’t matter, you wouldn’t feel the same anyway,” you muttered, pushing past him to be anywhere that wasn’t near him.

Before you could get too far, Connor’s iron grip wrapped around your wrist and held you in place. You looked at him with offense, but he knew you meant nothing by it.

“It does matter, Detective,” he whispered lowly. “It matters to me.”

There was no going back now. Connor already got the hint that you cared for him more than you probably should. You might as well say it outright. That was better than being embarrassed and pretending nothing happened. Right?

“I like you, Connor,” you admitted, the words sounding childish in your mouth. “God, this is so embarrassing…”

Connor was silent for a long moment, making you wonder if he actually had figured it out. If he hadn’t… God, you would be mortified. Did he really not know, and you just willingly outed yourself to him?

You risked a peek at Connor to find him already looking at you with a small smile. His hand was still holding your wrist tightly, his skin comfortingly warm against your burning skin. The glint in his eyes made your brows furrow as heat rose to your cheeks.

“Why would you think I don’t care about you?” Connor asked, the quirk of his lips telling you that he found all of this somewhat amusing.

“I mean… yeah, I would think that you care about me. On some level. I’d assume…,” you prattled. “But as a friend, obviously. Connor, I’m not sure you understand what I mean when I say I like–”

“I understand perfectly well, Detective,” Connor interrupted. “So I’ll pose the question once again: why would you think I don’t care about you?”

The confusion was clear on your face. Tilting your head to the side, you turned your body to face Connor slightly, giving him the opportunity to lightly pull your wrist until you were completely facing him. Even when he had you standing where he wanted, he still didn’t let go of your wrist, though he loosened his grasp and held you lightly. You could feel his thumb rubbing along your inner wrist soothingly. Your knees felt weak, and you were sure you were going to collapse against him at any second. His touch was so loving that you almost believed he could feel the same way.

You nearly forgot Connor had asked you a question until he gave your arm a light squeeze that snapped you back to attention. He arched both eyebrows, watching you with that humorous glint. 

“I just… Well…,” you faltered. You inhaled sharply, gathering your thoughts before you continued. “I just can’t understand how or why someone like you would be interested in someone like me when there are so many better options. Yeah, I guess… I guess that’s it. I don’t know…”

“Better options?” Connor repeated. The obvious confusion in his voice warmed your heart. It was as if he had never even considered that there could be better options.

“Well, yeah,” you shrugged. “I’m no android, Connor. I’m not… I’m not perfect. I’m not beautiful or stunning or gorgeous. I’m not like that girl you were looking at.”

There was another long pause as Connor struggled to process your words. His LED spiraled yellow as he questioned, “What girl?”

“The Traci,” you explained in exasperation, “at the Eden Club. It looked like you were practically in love with her, and I don’t blame you. She’s the definition of perfect. Not a single flaw in sight.”

“You think you’re flawed?” Connor asked immediately. That was his biggest takeaway?

“Yes, obviously, Connor! I am! And I just find it very hard to believe that someone as beautiful as you could be attracted to someone as… average as me,” you snapped, sounding harsher than you intended.

Connor released your wrist, and for a moment you worried that you scared him off. But then his warm hands were holding your cheeks, his thumbs now slowly running along your cheekbones. He stepped forward until his body was pressed against yours, leaning down until his forehead was nearly touching yours. His eyes latched onto yours, and for a moment, he just held your gaze in silence. He was reveling in the sight of you, so close to him that he could feel your sweet breath against his lips.

“It seems you don’t realize how beautiful you are,” he murmured. “Perhaps I’ll have to explain it to you.”

Connor paused again, searching your eyes for any effort to argue. But you were still so stunned by his sudden proximity that you had nothing to give. When he heard no contradiction, Connor smiled and continued on.

“Maybe you don’t think you’re perfect,” he started, “but I do. Everything you see as a flaw, I see as beautiful. It makes you you. It makes you so… human. And maybe you can’t understand because of it, but there’s something so pure about being human. Just being human makes you beautiful. But you… you’re different. You’re above them all.”

There was a strangely desperate look in Connor’s eyes like he was pleading with you to understand. Exhaling slowly, he leaned forward and rested his forehead against your own. He closed his eyes, his LED shifting from yellow to blue and back again as he tried to sift through the swarm of emotions.

“I don’t know why it’s you, but it is,” he whispered, his voice nearly too quiet for you to hear. “I just can’t help but notice everything about you. I love the wrinkles on your forehead when you’re confused to the point of frustration. I love when only one side of your hair is brushed because you’re too lazy to brush the other. I love when your lip bleeds because you’re biting it while you’re thinking and you don’t even notice. I love…”

Connor stopped and pulled back slightly, his hands still resting on your cheeks. His LED circled red once, the worry on his face far too obvious to your keen eyes. When you didn’t say anything, Connor tried to pull away, but you didn’t let him.

Your hands quickly moved to rest over top his, holding him in place. You looked up at him with eyes full of admiration and wonder as if an angel had come and graced the earth. Maybe that’s what he was, an angel. You would believe it. With that pretty face and those sweet words, you could easily be fooled.

As you eyed Connor’s face, the corners of your lips quirked into a smile. Maybe you could be enough for him. He seemed to think so. It was that thought alone that drove you to lean forward and press the faintest of kisses to Connor’s lips. It was barely a peck, and as you pulled away, Connor leaned forward to chase after your warmth. The gesture made you laugh as you whispered against his lips.

“I love how human you are.” 

#detroit become human #connor x reader #dbh connor x reader #rk800 x reader #dbh connor #connor rk800

[sophiethewitch1]

A Dramatic Irony

A/n: Trying to combat writer's block so I decided to do this little drabble. Spoilers for the WHB prologue, and also includes my theory that MC will turn out to be God in some form or capacity. Because why the hell else would the angels turn over to our side?

GAME IS 18+ THIS DRABBLE ISN'T, BUT EVEN THE PROLOGUE HAS ADULT CONTENT! MINORS PLEASE BE SENSIBLE!!!

“So, it was you? This whole time?” His lips graze against your throat. He’s warm, of course he is. All that holy light spilling out? He’s so warm it’s almost uncomfortable.

Everything about this is uncomfortable, really. But of course, like always, you’re at the centre of it. Of every situation, from the depths of hell to the cloudy tops of heaven.

“I’m not Him,” you grit out, your body shivering. You don’t dare move. Not with Gabriel, the man who had sworn to kill you, who had chased you over hell with armies of feathered fiends, with his teeth at your jugular.

It doesn’t matter the way he shakes just the same as you. It doesn’t matter that his fingers skim delicately - reverently - across your stomach. It doesn’t matter that those eyes that before looked at you with absolutely nothing inside, now seemed to overflow. With love, obsession.

You know, before all this, you’d been an atheist. Before an unholy angel had crawled out of your computer and a righteous demon had saved you and your best friend’s life, you had thought God couldn’t exist. That the world couldn’t be so cruel if someone like Him truly did exist. That your childhood wouldn’t be mired in tragedy, that you wouldn’t struggle to get out of bed every day. That you wouldn’t have to blink away flashes of the scent of copper and soap.

And of course, then you’d made a deal with the devil. You’d gone to hell. You’d broken countless contracts, and warred against heaven. You’d had to fight for every second of your life, and you’d done it bitterly, angrily.

Angry at this God that had disappeared, and angry at His stupid mistake of making every angel madly in love with him. Angry at how He never thought of the consequences of his actions, of how He never imagined a world He wouldn’t exist in. How just by your birth, you’d been destined to suffer. How your parents would have died no matter what, how you would always have had to walk this thorny path.

How He never seemed to consider what could happen when you created one of the strongest beings in the universe and forgot to give them a fucking moral compass.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he murmurs, ignoring your words. His too-warm body crowding in too close to yours, as your fists curl against his chest, desperately trying to push him away. It’s no use because no matter what’s in your blood, you aren’t strong enough - what is Solomon’s, and what is His.

Because, apparently, those stupid mistakes you’d cursed God for, were yours.

“I’m not Him,” you repeat, hands moving to claw at his throat. He doesn’t react beyond a small sigh of pleasure, curling into your touch like a cat in the sun. “I’m not Him. I don’t have His memories. I’m not Him.”

“I told you, didn’t I? I didn’t have any negative feelings towards you. I’m sorry, I’ll fix it. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Please, just let me stay by your side?”

It’s such a strange dichotomy. The angel who sees this as a beautiful, miraculous reunion. And you, who sees this a tragedy. One you could never escape. The angel from before, swinging his scythe at your throat, and the one who now presses plush lips against that same skin. It’s too ironic, isn’t it? It just can’t be true. It just doesn’t make any sense.

“I don’t want you by my side,” you sob, but he just shushes you, pressing kisses against your head and across your face. He licks up your tears, groaning at the taste.

It’s too cruel. You have to wonder if the old you, the one you can’t remember, ran from this.

His hands tighten around your waist. It doesn’t really matter what happened before, because you know you won’t be able to run this time.

#what in hell is bad #whb #whb gabriel #what in hell is bad gabriel #whb x reader #yandere x reader #yandere drabble #whb gabriel x reader

[literaila]

"i don''t wanna get you sick"

from either reader or peter (sorry if you've already written a fic like this)

where’d you get your medical degree

tasm!peter x fem!reader

warnings: the ask says it all.

a/n: in lieu of sick season. and because of many illnesses (such as writers block, and insanity) which are preventing me from writing anything serious

*

“no,” you whine, pushing him away. “don’t touch me.”

peter is looking down at you with an incredulous look on his face. his hair is loose and his eyes are close, and he’s unbelievably pretty. like you have to blink a few times, just to make him appear normal—and a little less blurry.

you think he’s smiling too, but you can’t really see it. you might be dreaming.

“is there any particular reason why not, bub?”

his hands near you again, cold fingertips on your jaw, around your head. you groan and move your face away from them—even though it feels wonderful.

“i don’t know where those hands have been.”

peter snorts. “trust me,” he says, tilting your head back to him, “you do.”

your stomach turns, and suddenly his hands are a saving grace, so you grab both, holding them to your cheeks.

“change your mind?”

“cold,” you sigh, leaning as close as you can get to him.

“you’re burning, love, and not the elvis kind.”

you shake your head, eyes closed. “not funny,” you mutter.

“can you look at me real quick?”

you moan and close your eyes even tighter. “i’m tired, peter. come back when we’re open.”

“just let me see those pretty eyes and then you can sleep. i’ll even get you some comfier clothes. and some water.”

you move your legs around, feeling the stiff polymer pants you wore today, assuming that you wouldn’t be halfway to death by 3pm.

“how bout some ice cream?” you ask, opening one eye.

it is not lost on you that peter is trying to flirt with you. or that he’s frowning.

“your pupils are big,” he says, concisely. “did you get drugged?”

you giggle, moving away from him, his fingertips suddenly ticklish. “yes, from my computer,” you grin at him, closing your eyes again. “at my office job.”

“okay, stoner, what medicine did you take?”

you frown. “none.”

peter is frowning back. you can feel it. but you’re not going to open your eyes, just in case he’s suddenly brushed his hair or something. put on mascara. who knows what lengths peter would go to surprise you.

“wait,” you hold a finger up. “whatever’s in my bag, i think. i took it at work.”

peter sighs, patting your leg before he moves about the room, looking for a purse you must have lost.

you actually can’t really remember how you got home in the first place.

“if your fever gets any worse, we’re going to the doctor.” peter says this from across the room, and you’re pretty sure he’s not even talking to you. “here. this is just acetaminophen. how long ago?”

your face is pushed into the pillow beside you. it smells like peter, so you keep it there.

“loopy, can you just answer this one question?”

“the pillow is speaking to me.”

peter puts a hand on your back. “i am so sure you’re on drugs,” he says, almost adoringly. “the pillow is telling you that you need to clean up. trust me, we’re close. let’s get you into pajamas and then i’ll find you some stuff.”

you don’t move. maybe you didn’t hear him.

“bub,” he says, a bit louder, sterner. “c’mon, it’ll only take a sec.”

“not moving.” your voice is muffled. “ever.”

“how am i supposed to kiss you, then?”

you turn and peek out at him, lip curling at the mention. and then you cough. “you cant kiss me. i’m sick.”

“it’s disappointing that you think that would deter me.”

“if you’re sick how are you supposed to take care of me?”

“i’ll always take care of my baby,” he swears, leaning into you. if you were of right mind you might realize he wants a kiss. you might realize what you want.

but you only nod approvingly, and then smush your face back into his pillow.

peter groans. his hand moves to the back of your head, and he massages your scalp for a moment. “i know those clothes aren’t comfortable,” he pulls at your tight blouse, the one you wear when you want to feel good about yourself and you don’t mind neglecting to breathe. “even though it looks good on you. you’re sweating through it.”

your muffled voice returns: “do i smell?”

it’s a miracle that peter can understand anything you’re saying. “just like you,” he sniffs, “and maybe a bit like coffee? did you spill something on yourself?”

you don’t move. just hum into the pillow, hacking up a lung into it.

peter shakes his head. “i’m gonna need to wash that. up, baby. a shower would help your sinuses, but we’ll change if you’re tired.”

“baby,” you giggle to yourself.

“yes, baby, because you have de-aged significantly in the past hour. do i have to carry you to the closet?” his voice is teasing, but you’re not really sure that you can hear anything.

you finally turn, sitting up so you can look at peter. “am i being difficult?” you ask him, worriedly. your skin has shifted colors, and your voice is more like rock on rock. but you still frown at peter. “i’m sorry. you don’t have to do anything. i can change.”

but as you say it you double over in a coughing fit, and while you can feel peters hand on your back, you’re almost worried he’s already left.

“don’t be ridiculous,” he whispers when you’re silent again, swallowing. “i like taking care of you. though, i’m not loving that cough. do you need some water?”

you look at him, checking his eyes for something that you’d never be able to recognize in this state. and finally you nod, silent.

peter kisses your forehead and leaves for the kitchen.

you sit there, trying to keep your back perfectly straight. even through the overwhelming urge to lay back down in the bed and suffocate in the blankets.

you really just want to smell that pillow some more.

your head is pounding, and you try to remember if you even took that medicine in the first place. how long you’ve been sitting there. if peter even took your temperature in the first place.

but peter is back before you figure it out. “here,” he hands you a glass of water, watching you with narrowed eyes. “drink all of it.”

“i’m not thirsty.”

he glares at you and you smile, sipping on the water.

he smiles back, sitting down next to you and feeling all over your face with his hands. “what’s the status report?”

“still sick, but my mental capacity is coming back.”

“oh good,” peter says, leaning back but not letting go of you. “i was worried when you didn’t laugh at my elvis joke.”

you snort and lean right back into him, your head against his chest. he smells a lot better than cheap cotton.

“sorry ‘bout your pillow,” you cough out, leaning away from him suddenly so you don’t spit in his face.

“it’s fine. i enjoy a little snot with my sleep.”

“gross, peter.”

he grins down at you, kissing the top of your head again, because he is beyond adorable. then he sombers, still staring, carefully evaluating you. “do you want some more medicine? i think we’ve got some cold stuff in the cupboard.”

“the sleepy kind?”

“probably. take some of that. do you want to shower?”

“not really,” you say, letting him hold your head up. “i’m a little dizzy.”

peter frowns at you. “i’d make sure you don’t fall,” he offers.

“that’s okay,” and then you, once again, hack up some mucus in front of his face and sigh pathetically into your own hands.

“how about some tea? for your throat?” his hand moves yours away, brushing the hair out of your face.

“peter, it’s okay.”

you kiss his hand and push it away.

“the teas okay?” he frowns. “as in yes?”

“i’m okay,” you repeat, shaking your head at him. “you don’t have to do anything else. i’m fine.”

“you’re sick,” he corrects.

“i’m a big girl. i just need a nap. i’m probably not even sick.”

you emphasizes this point by choking down a cough, making your eyes water.

peter raises a brow.

you smile, tightly. “i’m just gonna go change now—“ you stand up, and then fall back down. your head spins as you feel peters hands wrap around your waist, his lips pressed against the side of your temple.

“just let me help,” he whispers, into you. “i’m not busy.”

“you had a long day.”

“i just want to cuddle with you anyway. i can take a few extra steps—like making you tea and getting you medicine.”

you shake your head. “i can do it.”

“i miss high you,” peter sighs. “c’mon, bub, stop being stubborn.”

you frown. “you’re the stubborn one. go swing and save someone else,” you tell him. “i just need a nap.”

“then i’m napping with you.”

you tilt your head back, groaning, and regretting it immediately when there’s a sharp stab in the front of your eyes.

peter kisses your now exposed neck, moving his hand so it keeps your head still. “you probably need to go to the doctor.”

“don’t be dramatic.”

peter scoffs. “you’ve got a fever of 103 degrees. i’m not dramatic.”

“i think i missed the era where you got your medical degree.”

peter scowls at you, pushing your sweaty hair out of your eyes and making sure you can see his conviction to never ever let this go. “it’s called webmd. it’s a wonderful place.”

“peter,” you whine, trying to push him away.

“baby,” he whines back, but smiles as he picks you up, like a literal baby, making sure not to jostle your head. “pajamas. what do you want to wear? and what’s the verdict on the tea?”

you sigh and lean your head into his neck. you don’t appreciate this, but it’s hurting to keep your eyes open. you cough into him, muffling yourself from the world. “can i wear your shirt?” you say, softly.

peter smiles like he’s won the lottery. you can feel it against your head. “yup,” he pops, “but it’ll cost you.”

“what?” you ask, sniffling.

“a kiss.”

he pecks your cheek, then your nose, and carries you away.

*

#ask #tasm peter x reader #andrew!spiderman #the amazing spider-man #peter parker #peter parker x reader #andrew garfield!peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker #spider-man #the amazing spider man #tasm smut #tasm!peter smut #tasm #tasmania #tasm 2 #tasm!peter x reader #tasm spiderman #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter imagine #tasm fanfiction #tasm!peter x y/n #tasm!peter fluff #tasm!peter parker #tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm!peter fanfiction #tasm!spiderman x you #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x #andrew garfield