do we fw dentist play as a form of oral fixation. honestly i see ryland as 100% having one but oooh this would be fun to do with eva as well. if it's the ryland route then like. cmon. armando/the nannybot gets a turn too they're literally THE dentist of the hail mary... it could literally go any way there, too. armando is armando. u can just practice until you get it right enough (you're not actually doing any surgeries, after all) and ryland says in the book that he'd trust rocky to do open heart surgery on him so like. oh my god that greedy guy has every option.
rocky could be commanding armando while you write every little tidbit down neatly. obviously the important information like, is he sick? are there cavities? where? etc etc and it slowly delves into how deep can he take the nannybot's hand? or observing that hmm, this patient is quite reactive. he may need restraints to be accurately assessed in the future. and ryland is about ready to die as you're staring down at him so intently, marking every little reaction for future reference. he can hear the speed of rocky's taps increasing, too, and he couldn't possibly hide in his arms from that like he could maybe try to hide from you.
eva, on the other hand?? she's acting all casual about it but you see the very light blush forming on her face while you do a routine medical exam. she has to be sure she's in the state to save the world, after all. when she frowns at you at first, you assume she's had some bad experiences in the medical world and vow to treat her as gently as possible! you remind her to ask for breaks if she needs them at all, go slowly and talk through everything you're doing, using the sweetest tone possible when asking her to do things for you. except that makes everything so much worse for her.
she's determined to see this through in a professional and respectful way. she just ignores all the feelings she's having, ready to quickly go back to her private room and take care of her business there when this is over. except she doesn't last half as long as she'd like to... she thinks she's doing fine, just occasionally pressing her thighs together unsuspiciously, until you have to check her throat. you ask her to open her mouth 'for you' and she knows she's done for. luckily for her, you'd be happy to take care of her in this way, too! as long as you get to tease and play with her a little first, that is.
i think she'd enjoy the simple commands you give her; eyes up here, hands down, and even if it's embarrassing like eye contact she just likes not having to think through every action. making her keep her mouth open is sooo perfect cause then she actually just can't hold back any of her soft moans or hitches of her breath. insert the three drooling cats here.
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Request: Dwayne tells reader I love you and their immediate response is to say something mean like fuck off. It’s not on purpose it just slips out 🤭 thank you @sapphicandserendipityy for the idea!!
Peering at the contents in your basket you made a mental note of all the items you have selected so far; beef jerky, candy, headband, a toy plane. Something was missing? Pulling out your shopping list you scanned the items until you found it, notepads. How could you forget?!
Two months had passed since Dwayne began his vow of silence. He mentioned something about self-restraint and dedication? In the beginning you thought he would only last a week or two.
But here you were two months later. Dwayne’s dedication and self-restraint was growing by the day. The sound of his voice was one of your favorite sounds, and you missed it dearly, but understood that it was something Dwayne needed to do.
Dwayne was focusing and working so hard to reach his dreams. You wanted to reward him for his efforts and motivate him to continue.
Your eyes widened as you entered the stationary aisle there was rows of notepads in different colors and designs. There were so many options. Reaching out you grabbed a yellow, black, and a pink one covered in red hearts. It was cute! Dwayne would hate it.
A giggle slipped out as you imagined his reaction. Or maybe if you were lucky he would suddenly get the hint that you lov- liked him…You really hoped he would like it.
Taking a deep breath you tried to calm the nerves. What was the worse that could happen? Dwayne doesn’t like it? Dwayne doesn’t like a lot of things it will be okay. He definitely wasn’t going to say anything.
Raising a hand you pressed the doorbell. You could hear feet running through the house and a voice yell out “I got it” When the door opened you were met with Olive smiling up at you.
Before you could say hello she was yelling through the house “Dwayne! Y/N is here!” She stepped out of the way and waved you inside.
“Come on Y/N” Olive grabbed your free hand and led you through the house towards Dwayne’s room “I don’t know why he can’t hear me.”
Once you reached Dwayne’s door Olive didn’t even knock, she just threw the door open. You were met with Dwayne on his back lifting weights above his head, heat flooded to your cheeks, as you watched him. The muscles in his arm were still small but more toned and you could see the outline of musc-
“Dwayne did you not hear me?! I said Y/N is here” Olive’s voice broke your thoughts.
Dwayne let out a sigh as he placed the weight down and sat up. The corner of his lip turning up slightly as his eyes met yours. Walking over he grabbed your hand, it was sweaty and calloused, pulling you into his room. While simultaneously pushing Olive out and slamming the door in her face.
“Hey! You’re so rude” you giggled as Olive stomped down the hall. It was now just you and Dwayne facing each other with your hands intertwined. There wasn’t much time to enjoy the contact as Dwayne dropped your hand heading towards his bed and sitting down patting the open spot next to him.
“So…you’re still not talking Hoover?” you teased. Dwayne responded with a roll of his eyes as he patted the spot next to him again. Finally you plopped down next to him and placed the gift bag in his lap. “Well good! Or else this would be awkward”
Dwayne looked between you and the bag with furrowed brows. “It’s a gift for you. It’s been over two months since you stopped talking and I thought you deserved something. I just know I couldn’t last a day without talking!”
A full smile formed on his face as he smiled in agreement. “Hey” you gently pushed him “Don’t be rude I got you a gift. Now open it!”
Sitting up straight you watched in anticipation as Dwayne started pulling out the wrapping paper, giggling as he rolls it up and throws it at you playfully. He reached in without looking and pulled out the beef jerky, slightly nodding his head in approval.
“I got that because I know you like it and it has a lot of protein so it should be really good for building muscle and stuff” Dwayne listened to you with raise eyebrows and waited until you were done to pull out the next item.
Red was being pulled out of the bag and your mouth opened before you realized. “That’s a headband for when you work out so your hair’s not in your face and you don’t get too sweaty.” You felt the need to explain the reasoning for each item.
Dwayne pulled out the notepads looking through them. “Those are for…ya know” you giggled. He got to the pink notepad with hearts. He looked up at you with an eyebrow raised and titled head as if to say ‘Really?’
Secretly Dwayne loved it! It was cute and reminded him of you.
With each item Dwayne pulled out his heart beat faster and he became overwhelmed. It was all so simple but-
Everyone else had been harassing him to speak telling him there was no point and refusing to understand. But you…you have supported him the entire time with no complaint. You always supported, listened, cared, understood him. It seemed like you were always around so he took you for granted. But you were everything and he…
Dwayne’s eyes widened in realization, hurriedly he opened the notepad and grabbed his pen, scribbling out the words. His hands shook as he stared down at the writing contemplating if he should show you. Glancing up he was met with your amused face “What is it Dwayne?”
Dwayne held the note up “I love you” was written across the page in messy letters.
A laugh left your lips as yo read the words “Oh fuck off Dwayne” His brows furrowed, placing the pen back on paper he underlined the words twice shoving the notebook in your face.
The smile on your lips slowly fading at the realization “Oh wait…you love me? You love me!” Dwayne rolled his eyes and tossed the notepad into you lap pointed at the words.
You held the notepad up pressing it against your chest as you took in the moment another laugh escaping your lips. “Well good Hoover because I love you too!”
Masterlist
This is my first time writing for Dwayne so I hope it was good and I hope you liked it 💛
You are Richard’s daughter from his first marriage and the same age as Dwayne.
You didn’t live with them until a year ago when your mother [who was on her 8th boyfriend] decided traveling was more important than you.
You share a room with Olive not that you mind because you love your little sister dearly.
She admires you greatly since you’re a cheerleader at yours and Dwayne’s high school.
You’re always helping her with her costumes and dance moves for her previous pageants, but for this one she wanted your grandpa to help as a surprise.
She still needs you for makeup and hair and you find it so cute when she steals your heel to practice walking in them.
Despite knowing Olive is your grandpa’s favorite [because valid she’s everyone’s] he still calls you a munchkin with affection and glad you are nothing like your parents.
Speaking of Richard, he adores the fact that on paper you are the perfect daughter and tends to place a lot of pressure on you. (However, the moment he talks about those 5 or 10 whatever steps you slam the door in his face.)
Sheryl is actually the mom you always wished you had, but you’re both a little awkward where she tries to be more of your friend than a stepmom.
The only one who had a problem with you was Dwayne and you had a problem with him.
You only ever saw him a few times like at the wedding and if you were dropped off early on the weeks that he was leaving to spend time with his dad in Florida.
He hated that his mom was marrying a new guy and in turn hated you which is why he stepped on the back of your shoes when walking down the aisle. ( You retaliate by throwing flowers in his face as the flower girl.)
Then when you were pounded off to live with them, god kill him right there.
You were the polar opposite of Dwayne: my little pony vs beetlejuice status.
The way you always walked around in your short, tight cheer outfit, and slammed on his door in just a towel to yell at him about using up all the hot water made him hate you even more.
You were his annoying stepsister, so why did his stomach twist watching you cancel plans because Olive begged you to play dolls with her, or how you insisted on cooking dinner after seeing how tired his mom was from work.
Why did your heart flutter at him just sitting there reading the same book or how he’d let a tiny smile slip at your sassy comebacks:
You were lying on your bed, listening to your friend Bailey over the phone. “So then she was like ‘gross’. Those were like last year’s Juicy sweats and I was like bitch just because you can’t fit into your Juicy sweats doesn’t make them last year suddenly.”
“Wow, what a bitch.” You pretend to sound like you cared about hearing this for the 4th time.
“Thank you! Ugh, I just can’t. So are you going to the party?”
“Uh-” You completely forgot about her parents being out of town. You mainly did not want to go so you were glad when Olive shouted for you. “Yeah Ollie?” You walk over to the back door where her and your grandpa are practicing.
“Do you know where my pink tape is?”
“No, did you ask your mom?”
“She’s not here. She went to get uncle Frank.”
“Ugh. Why don’t you ask Dwayne?”
“Because grandpa said for you to do it.”
“So?”
“Please!”
“Ugh fine!” You have a habit of giving in easily to Olive’s requests.
“Why don’t you just say no to her? I do it to my bratty brothers all the time.” You hear Bailey’s voice still there on the phone.
“She is not a brat, she’s adorable which is why I can’t say no to her.”
“Whatever.” You could hear the eyeroll. “So about the party?”
“Uh.. I don't know. I might have a thing.”
“No you don’t! Come on, Chris is going to be there and I need you there to distract his friend Nathan so I can get Chris to myself for the night.”
You internally groan at yet another braindead jock she was trying to set you up with, “Bailey don’t you think if you have to pimp your friend out that means there’s an issue?”
“Like what?”
“Dyawne, have you seen Olive’s pink tape?” You ask after throwing his door open to find him shirtless. Your mouth still dries at his lean, lanky figure.
‘Don’t you knock?’ He writes, giving you a deadpan stare.
“What for? This was my house before you moved in. Now pink tape?” You hand him a shirt off the floor for him to cover up. He rolls his eyes, reaching for the pink tape on his desk. “Are you not going to hand it to me?” He smirks, holding it above your head.“Ugh, fine. I’ll do it myself.”
‘What are you doing?’ His eyes widen at you pressing yourself up against him, your fingers spidering up his arm to his wrist.
“I’m just getting the tape. If you didn’t want me to come to you then you should have just given it to me.” You say in a smug tone, watching how his cheeks turned pink and how his breath hitched at your touch.
You sway your hips as you exit the room with Bailey’s phone presence being known again. “Your step-brother wants to give something else to you that isn’t tape.”
“Shut up Bailey, that's disguising.”
“Well it’s true the way he’s always staring at you. I can practically feel the sexual tension melting off you two.”
“There is nothing like that, no sexual tension. He’s my step brother nothing more.” You were lying to yourself just a little but it was weird in a sense. You both may not be blood related, but you did share a sister and your parents were married. However, you did live in Albuquerque and things like that were common here.
“Right, anyways, someone like you can do so much better like maybe Nathan.”
“Goodbye Bailey.”
“Just think about it-”
“Why would I want to go to some party to be felt up by Nathan?” You shiver at the thought. You spin around to head to the backdoor when you bump into Dwayne. “Ah! How long were you there?”
‘Who’s Nathan?’ He writes on his dumb pad you gifted him.
“No one. Why are you standing behind me anyways like some kind of creeper?”
He wanted to write for you not to flatter yourself, but he was listening in on your conversation. ‘Olive says she wants the pink tape but she probably wants the red one too.’
“Of course she does.” You sigh, freezing at how close Dwayne’s face was to yours. Your noses were brushing. “W-what are you doing?”
He just stares intensely into your eyes, distracting you while he slipped the red tape into your front jean pocket. He pulls back with a cocky grin, ‘No sexual tension?’
“You fucking perverted little eavesdropper.” You grab his pad and start smacking him. “Err! Get out of my site and into your emo hole you crawled out of.” You huff, pounding on the yard door. “Olive? Grandpa? I got the tape you asked for!”
“Great thanks kiddo.” Your grandpa answers.
“You're welcome. How is Olive’s routine going?” You try looking around him but he blocks your view.
“It’s coming along.”
“Can I see it?”
“Nope not until it's done.”
“Aw come on for me?” You try using your sad eyes that worked for you all the time when you were Olive’s age.
“Nope that doesn’t work on me anymore now that I have a new favorite granddaughter.”
“Grandpa!” You gasp, playfully tapping his cheek and getting a chuckle out of the old man.
“I'm kidding. I love my girls equally, but go away. We're practicing here. Go make out with Dyawne or something until Sheryl comes back from the loonie with Frank.”
The color drains from your face at the suggestion. “What the fuck Grandpa, he’s my brother!”
“Your step brother with a sexual tension that can be cut like a piece of paper.” He kisses your forehead. “Live a little kid, I'm not stopping you.”
Your grandpa might support your actions but that man was on drugs, he’d support anything.
If you only knew having sexual tension with your step-brother was one of the many crazy things you’d be dealing with those next few days.
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this person on twitter noticed that Lars has his fly down several times in the movie?? baby boy, please 😭
it starts as an accident- he really just forgets to check- but then it starts to become deliberate because if you’re alone with him or are able to do it with enough privacy in public, you’ll zip his fly up for him.
you’ll get all close and carefully grab at the front of his pants and sloooowly zip it up. he was embarrassed at first but then he realizes it gives him a boner so sometimes he’ll ‘forget’ just to have you close and your fingers close to his cock
synopsis ; you're second to none when it comes to flying. you've volunteered to be the hail mary's captain, leading the world's best to hopefully save humanity, then die. so why are you waking up from your coma with a cuff on your hand, and eva stratt by your side?
or: eva grows too attached to the hail mary's captain, and foregoes prison in favour of having you all to herself.
cw ; dove is mildly bloody, probably don't eat it but you can pet it. arm cuff, drugging, dubcon? like yeah you're both in love but she's being a weirdo about it, german eva, general obsessive tendencies, the end ties into the title wow im so smart, will probably have a separate part 2 that i couldn't quite tie into this but REQS FIRST SHIKI
taglist for eva fics ; @coldestmourning @aspenlovescinema @oh-look-my-junkbox
—
you feel groggy.
that makes sense. but not groggy enough.
the ship looks nicer than you remember, too.
you're seeing doubles of everything and it's all quite blurry, but it's fine. it'll return to normal in a little bit, you think. where's the nannybot, anyway?
you decide to try to sit up. you use your left hand to test out your movement. opening it, closing it, wiggling individual fingers. huh, okay, that level of control is surprising.
when you try the same with your left, it's pulled back. you try to pull on it again, and look at your hand in confusion when it refuses. there's some sort of clinking sound, you vaguely recognise. your vision starts to merge into one, lines focusing.
it's a metal cuff. one of those handcuffs that police use, you think.
“oh, good.”
is that... stratt?
you move your head over to look. there she is, sitting down next to a table, and setting down her book and coffee on it. she stands up, walking over to you.
you squint your eyes and try to blink a few times to correct whatever your brain thinks you're seeing. it's still stratt. that's concerning.
“sit up.” she tells you casually.
you look back at your hand and figure, fine, maybe something happened and... yeah, there's no real explanation for this. okay, sitting up should still work. you use your right hand as support, and slowly make your way up. you feel a bit woozy, but you can handle it.
you think the room is still spinning. or maybe it's just you.
stratt makes you lean into her stomach, holding you by the shoulders. she mutters, like a scientist figurine out an experiment. “hmm.. okay, better than expected.”
she puts a hand under your chin, tilting your head upwards to look at it. the sudden action makes you a bit dizzy, honestly. you slowly breathe in and out to let it pass. she seems happy, for some reason. if memory serves you right, her being in the same room as you means that she either boarded the hail mary, or that you didn't.
you're really hoping it's the first option, despite it being the unlogical one; stratt never showed signs of suicidality, and she definitely wasn't needed on the mary. you squint at her again. she seems just a little amused, if you're reading her right.
“speak.”
you open your mouth, but nothing comes out. it takes you a few long seconds to manually figure out words again. all you can eventually manage is a hoarse “what?”.
she leans down and gives you a kiss on the forehead. huh? “very good. i'll go ahead and order our food. just rest up, honey.”
no, what the fuck is happening? ‘honey’? she kissed you?
you're starting to really panic. “w—what's,” you begin. you have to breathe deeply to keep the energy to speak. “what's going on, stratt?”
she takes your right hand, and brings it up to her lips. she presses a gentle kiss to it. “don't worry. everything's okay.”
that's not an answer. well, definitely not one you want to hear. you try to pull away from her, pushing yourself closer towards the wall. “no, what's going on? i'm supposed to—” you inhale again. “be on the hail mary. not with you.”
she just looks at you like you're some scared animal. you don't like how calm she is. “as i said, don't worry about it. captain yáo will do a great job, i assure you.”
yáo?
that can't be right. he's the secondary captain, who'd only be on the mary if you were suddenly unable to. you're fine, you're sure of it, so why in god's name is he going?
she slowly makes her way closer to you, letting a leg rest on the rather large bed while moving to be on top of you and acting like this is all normal and fine. she brings a hand to your hair and honestly pets you like a cat. she shakes her head disapprovingly, despite. “calm down, darling. you're fine.”
you desperately want to pull away again, but you're not sure she'll take it well. is she having delusions, right now? she thinks you're in a romantic relationship with each other. that's incredibly concerning. and she made a nuclear wasteland out of Antarctica while still in her right mind.
so you sit there and let her treat you like a pet. it's annoying, but definitely not your biggest issue. she seems satisfied at a certain point, stopping, and moves to sit in front of you. she takes out a walkie-talkie. “stratt to kitchen, you can start preparing my order now.”
you hear a short “copy!” before she puts it back into her pocket. so, the situation is... very really bad.
you're not on the hail mary. yáo is, despite you being the primary crew. stratt is delusional, but still has the power to command people. so the mary hasn't launched yet, then? can you convince her that she's being insane, and that you need to be on that ship?
“stratt.”
she nods at you, raising her eyebrows. “i... it's my duty to go on the mary. i'm perfectly fine, like you said, so mr. yáo shouldn't go.”
she shrugs. “he's already on his way to tau ceti. it was your duty, but it's not, anymore. you can just relax, now. with me.”
she brings her hand up to you again, but you catch it, sighing. “stratt, what the fuck is going on with you? you're risking the success of the mission. for what? your crush on me? you're behaving...” you stop to think for a second about your words, biting out the last one while you tighten your grip on her hand. “irrationally.”
your thumb is digging into her wrist, fingers wrapped around her arm tightly. please realize what you're doing, stratt.
she lets her fingers drop to touch your own arm, softly trying to soothe you. she leans her head down again, now kissing you on the lips. your head is already leaning against the wall, so there's not anywhere to escape to. she ignores your little sounds of protest, and holds your face with her free hand.
“don't i deserve this?”
the question catches you off-guard. “...huh?”
she continues, her face a bit too close to yours for comfort. she sounds... vulnerable? but a bit frightening, too.
“i've done everything i possibly can for the world. don't you think i deserve this much, sweetheart? after all of it?”
okay. she's still deep in her delusions, you confirm. before this, stratt wouldn't have even thought of it like that. she accepted the position of director, despite knowing the consequences that would follow. you admired her, for that complete willingness to do anything to save humanity.
you give it a final chance. “it doesn't matter. it doesn't matter whether or not you deserve this, stratt, it's not right.”
she responds quickly, nodding. “that's okay. i don't need to be in the right.” she gives you another kiss, wiggling her trapped hand out of your loosened grip. it doesn't take long. you think you're going to give up on this... whatever this is. this attempt at convincing stratt she's being fucking insane.
you let your hand just fall onto the bed. you could overpower her. you could, but you don't know if she still has armies at her beck and call. you're strong, yes, but nowhere near the level of a trained soldier — let alone a hundred of them. even her bodyguards could probably force you back on their own.
she sighs contently, laying her hand on yours and intertwining your fingers, tracing over the edges of your hand with her thumb. “and anyway, call me eva, won't you? it suits your voice much better.”
when she's leaning almost all of her weight on you, she gently kisses your cheek and whispers, “i really do love you. more than anyone, or anything.” she pauses, looking downward, before tilting her head back up to gaze at you reverently. str—eva is speaking slowly, voice soft and sweet. “ich liebe dich so, so, so sehr, mein schatz.”
she lets herself fall onto you, head coming to rest on your shoulder. her arms wrap around your waist, just a little too tightly for comfort. you think she takes a deep breath through her nose, and tightens her grip on you just a little when she finds the familiar scent of you.
you hate the part of yourself that actually feels bad for her.
she looks utterly exhausted when she glances up at you. dark circles under here eyes that have worsened since you last saw her, and the absence of any of the walls she usually puts up make it easy to see just how tired she is. you deeply want to comfort her, but you can't bring yourself to.
she's breathing you in, slowly, and you can't tell if she's trying to fall asleep on you or stay awake until the food gets here. eva's hair is covering all of her face, or the parts of her that she isn't burrowing into you, at least. it's always been easy to tell with her, but you don't trust your judgement now.
still...
you slowly lift up your hand behind her. you think you feel the flutter of her eyelashes on your shoulder, but she makes no move to force your hand back down. she trusts you, you know, despite her previous vigilance.
there's two knocks on the door.
you nearly slam your hand onto the bed again, just realizing it was creeping towards the back of eva's head. she exhales, giving you a quick peck on the lips before lifting herself off of you and opening the door. three men, all dressed in kitchen uniforms, stand with outside. she nods, steps out of the way, and lets them set the food down onto a table.
they avoid your eyes like their lives depend on it.
once they're stepping away, you recognize some of the dishes they'd brought in. the scent hits your nose gently, like a butterfly landing on a flower. in the center is something you used to beg your parents for, and on stressful or stormy days, they indulged you. you remember sitting at the table and watching the steam rise, waiting impatiently for your mother to fill up your plate.
eva brings the plate to you and sets it down on the bed. she takes a spoon full of food and brings it up to your mouth, which you raise your eyebrows at. “eat up. you're tired, right?”
she smiles when you eat from her spoon. is this a power trip, to her? or does she think this is romantic? you can't quite tell. maybe it's both. you don't think it matters, with food this good, and the gentle hand holding your hair out of the way.
you get done with the dish eventually. she pats your head and, just for good measure, in case you'd forgotten, adds, “i love you.”
i've made enough domme eva posts to make it pretty clear where i stand on the subject (i need herrrr) but i feel like collectively we're not giving enough consideration to the possibility of sub eva, so... hear me out:
you're her assistant. formally, this makes you her subordinate, but functionally, you are essentially running her life. you're good at it, too, very reliable, always on top of things. it's a gradual shift, but over time, that dynamic begins to bleed into more private areas of her life.
soon, you're not just organizing meetings and correspondence anymore, but micromanaging most of her daily life. you're monitoring her fluid intake and whether she has taken her meds. you're telling her how to wear her hair and fixing it when it gets messy over the course of the day. you're ordering for her at restaurants, because you know what she likes, dislikes and is allergic to, and it'll be another small choice she doesn't have to waste brainpower on.
it's just so much easier for her to focus on the big picture when she can hand over all these little things to you. you can take care of her. you're good at that. it's your job. if that means picking out her clothes for her, laying them out at the foot of her bed, down to her underwear, you're happy to do it. neither of you makes a big deal of it, but it feels a bit like a dirty secret.
one night, you tell her to go to bed, because she has been awake for too long and it's affecting her cognitive function. when she refuses, repeatedly, you snap at her in frustration, threaten to put her over your knee. she goes very still at that, and for a second, you're sure you've lost your job, but then you notice her erratic breathing and the way her bottom lip quivers, like she's trying not to bite down on it. and you realize she might want you to.
it's fine, right? this is just one more way you're taking care of her. it's not conventional, but none of this is. she can move some of the weight of her thoughts and lay it on your shoulders, because that's what you're here to do. you're really just extending your responsibilities to another area. and, anyway, orgasms do help with sleep.
when you spank her, she cries a little. less from the pain and more from the relief of not having to be in charge all the time anymore. here, she can be the one taking orders. here, she can cry. here, she can be small and weak and vulnerable, because it's you, and you always have her best interests at heart. it's your job, after all.
okay wait i have thoughts on religious yan!eva stratt because i just saw your post about it from the polls you made. okay i know you mentioned that she might be the type to believe that you’re her saviour, so what if eva’s obsession with you didn’t start until after she “stained” you?
(once her infatuation starts, any history between you is rewritten; she’s always loved you, it’s just that touching you so intimately blessed her and opened her eyes to your sanctity.)
i think she might rationalize that her corrupting you was necessary for you to ascend and become divine? sure, premarital sex would usually be considered a sin, but with you? it’s sacred undertaking that she’s taken upon herself. you’re her angel. it’d be so much more damning to not respond to this divine calling. it isn’t just sex, it’s an act of worship. it’s proof of her devotion. she’s spent so long feeling the guilt of leading you astray, but now she understands that it was much more than that. it was divine intervention; your fates were bound to intertwine, you, an unknowing deity, and her, your patron saint.
genuinely you're so smart holy shittt. i absolutely wanted to do smth with the whole “first time started everything” but ohhhhhh this ask has invaded my brain. eva so feels like it's just her necessary undertaking; she will sin again and again if it means you can keep being sacred. she's blessed to have you touching her so lovingly, but she's dooming you both to hell, but then if you're the one asking... well, she can't say no, right? she could never refuse to worship her angel. that would be so much worse than whatever she's corrupting you into.
i think she'd honestly flat out ignore her own pleasure for the sake of yours; it's what she does daily, but when you try anyway?? it's just proof of how much of a divine, angelic little thing you are, too good to a simple damned soul like her. but she'll let you, because it makes you happy, and that's all the reason she needs. even if she feels guilty about not being able to directly worship you, at least she can offer up herself as a gift, however much she's worth to you.
on one hand, eva wants so badly to know that she's doing everything right. that her worship will end in heaven and that she'll be able to keep devoting herself to you, even there. on the other? no, she could never deserve that, she'll keep her mouth shut until she sings your praises again. until you eventually find someone more worthy of you, but she desperately doesn't want to let go of you, either. even just the thought of you finding someone else is so viscerally painful that she can't bear it. she'll apologize endlessly to you when you find out what she's done, beg you for forgiveness on her knees, her tears wetting your clothing, but she'll never regret it. you're hers to pray to, and she's yours to save.
tbh another thought ive had is... what if u feed into her feelings about all of it. punishing her for the sin, until she repents enough to be allowed to sin again. like, “yeah this is all bad and sinful but it's okay, because i forgive you. so keep dirtying us, because i'll cleanse you again and again.”
if you dare mention you're not really planning on ever getting married? oh so she's just going to be like this forever? never being able to truly repent for all of her staining you? it feels awful, but it's all okay in a way because, well, it's what you want, and you could never be wrong about something. even about this. you've been her guiding light for so long, showing her right and wrong, she just needs to trust you. even if it feels bad. she can handle that much, right?
like i want so badly to just be kind to eva cause god knows she's suffered enough but :) it's fun to be a little mean sometimes. juuust a little. but religious yan eva is so delightful in every way, i need to write eight theses on her right now
How do you think Lars would be if reader was like sick in bed with fevers and vomiting and the shakes? Not my usual thing but fluff is a necessity with Lars I love that chonky man
I'm not good at writing fluff, because I mostly don't believe love is real, romanticism is dead and I don't personally yearn for touch.
BUT XD that doesn't mean others don't yearn for it or are as dead like me inside.
So, who am I to take that enjoyment for others? I will try to do my best, in the only way I understand fluff means (I'm so sorry).
Lars went to work without knowing you were sick, when he found out you were sick, rather than getting angry, he is panicking.
He cooks the yummiest soup from scratch, he goes to buy all the pharmacy, he is going to help you shower (he doesn't mind carrying you all around, he knows how uncomfortable is for you when you throw up and the sweat is all around you, and the smell of vomit lingers all around, you are sure is in your hair). He changes the sheets. He is there to take care of you. He holds your hair when you throw your guts to the toilet.
You are sure he is tired and disgusted by your fucked up self, you think you are a burden. But far from that, he looks at you with such pity and adoration. He cannot see you any different from what you are, his adored girl who is suffering. It breaks him to see you suffer, the vomit was nothing, but the fever? Fuck he wished to be him in pain. He prepared a bowl of iced water and a cloth he passed on your head, chest and legs, slowly and meticulously; the pain is making you whine, and he is just there his head beside you on the mattress while you fight for your life, he gave you medicine but it's taking an eternity to make an effect.
He even covers you with his baby blanket, which is not much but that's why it is so perfect, he stays all night beside you, brushing your wet hair with sweat, with fat tears crawling on his cheeks in silence. He watched you until you finally could fall asleep.
"My poor sweet girl-" he said before sleeping, planting a soft kiss on your head, with a hand still sticking to the wet cloth he settled on your tummy.
He called sick that day on work.
He would not leave you alone until you can walk two feet on the ground and not try to kill yourself.
Lars actually takes you to the doctor.
He is strict and punctual on the medicines, and especially on the baths. After that he didn't let you eat anything than broth chicken soup for a whole week, you were done with the fucking soup, but it did work tho.
Hugs! He is a big fat hugger, once he traps you with his arms you will never leave. He hugs you all the time on his free day, he leaves you slow soft kisses on your skin, he can't kiss you on the lips because what you have can be contagious.
He treats you like if you are made of glass, your body aches for the dehydration and the rough night, he is tired too. So he takes all the naps with you, snuggling into you like a worried puppy.
It was hard kicking his ass out of the house the next day, he needs to get back to work and you need three minutes of yourself.
"I fucking love you so so much!" He is about to cry and he is on his way to the car, he is like a child in the first day on school.
You know he says it every five minutes because he can kiss you or fuck your brains out. He always finds a trillion ways to tell you how crazy he is about you. But right now? Totally desperate for you to tell him to stay.
"I know, bye!" He pouts, opening his car.
"And Lars..." You say, making his eyes pop almost out of his skull. "I'm dead crazy in love with you too, have a great day at your job!"
He smiled all his way to his job.
Lars called you every hour to check up.
He needs a baby or a dog, good god!
You can manage to get both do...
Me asking my three lasting braincells to write fluff:
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Hi hi!! Could u do a lars date night moodboard? So like bowling, the treehouse, scrabble? Thank u!!!
-🪿
Bowling first — he held your hand in the car on the way home. Hanging out at the lake second — he kisses you. The implication that he wore his three piece suit for the third date (scrabble night), to me, can only mean one thing… I shan’t say. Just know there’d be a candlelit dinner cooked by him and then slow dancing together for the fourth date 💕
thinking… goslings doing the hot Dad Walk out of the hospital with your newborn
Ryland is the most normal of the bunch. Forearm flexing as the car seat sways gently by his side, he’s making sure the baby isn’t jostled around too much or swung too harshly. He’s very focused on making sure the carrier doesn’t knock into anything, stepping away from passing nurses and eyeing the door frames he passes through. You’re following close behind and drooling at the veins bulging from his tight grip. You wonder if Ryland is ready for another.
Holland is so happy to be a dad again- well, he never stopped being a dad but he’s excited to be the dad to a baby again. He’s surprised at how heavy the carrier feels with the baby in it. He doesn’t remember Holly being so heavy. The PI isn’t weak by any means, but he has to set the car seat down while in the elevator and grunts when he picks it back up. You’re laughing on the inside at his struggle but don’t voice it because you know how much Holland has been looking forward to this moment. When you get out of the hospital, Holland realizes he forgot to pull the car around and left the keys in your hospital room. He’s a hot mess but he never complains- he’s too happy to be annoyed at anything right now.
Colt is proudly strutting down the hallways with the carrier and showing off the baby to anyone that looks your way. He’s doing (gentle) arm curls with the carrier in the elevator. He points out things once you leave the hospital like the baby can understand him. (“That’s a really good restaurant across the street! Your momma craved it a lot while she was pregnant. And this is our car. Mom doesn’t like it when I try to do donuts in it.”)
Lars cradles the whole thing- carrier and baby- in his arms. Holding it with just one hand down by his side feels too risky, so he holds it like that to make sure the baby is safe. It’s going to take a LONG time for Lars to come to terms with the fact that the baby won’t shatter at the slimmest bit of contact. (“Honey, if you’re worried about the baby you can take her out and I’ll take the empty car seat?” “It’s ok, I don’t mind holding her like this.”)
Driver is shocked by how intensely protective he feels over the tiny life he carries. He’s usually pretty relaxed about things- alert in public but not on edge- so he didn’t really expect to feel any different. He was wrong. Driver is eyeing everyone that passes in the hallway like a HAWK. His grip on the carrier is tight and he makes sure you’re close behind him. He just wants to make sure his new family is protected. The man is eager to get home where he knows you and his baby will be safest. (Oh and he’s also carrying both of your hospital bags on his opposite shoulder. And it’s a rather hilarious sight to see his nice car sporting a car seat in the back.)
I was thinking Lars getting hard from something really small, (we know for a fact he doesn’t touch himself, he chops wood instead, as a mean to repress any sexual tension) like a touch of the knee or something, and while their first time, since he’s never touched himself, he lasts for approximately 1 minute lmfao. I guess he’s overstimulated, and overwhelmed, and can’t form a thought after. I don’t know, I trust you!
Well anon, this sure did something to my brain because I wrote something closer to a fic than an imagine!
Content: nsfw, gn!reader, hand holding, handjob, first time, praise and dirty talk, premature ejaculation, in the car (Karin may be snooping but don't worry she can't see what's going on inside the car), mention of mutual masturbation, Lars doesn't masturbate (don't worry that's about to change)
∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘
‘May I hold your hand?’ you ask gently, while Lars is driving.
‘Oh! Sure,’ he smiles, still loved up from the way you rested your head on his shoulder while you watched the sunset over the lake.
Shakily, he lets one hand go from the wheel and waits for yours to join it. He’s never held hands while driving and isn’t really sure where to put them or what he's supposed to do.
But as always, you know what to do when he’s unsure, and bring your clasped hands down carefully to rest just above his knee.
Lars feels a bit hot. You’re touching his hand, skin to skin, but also his leg. It might be over fabric but it’s pleasantly warm and tingly all the same.
The car jolts over a bump in the road then, and your hands slip a little at the gentle impact. They slip further up his thigh.
He silently prays that you won’t notice how flustered he’s getting. His breath heaves, he can feel the heat of his cheeks powdering bright pink, and he’s not sure how long he can stave off the little groan that’s clawing to escape from his throat at the way his trousers are tightening around him.
You make no effort to slide your hands back up toward his knee, quite content and Lars is frozen, barely even able to concentrate on driving so he focusses all his efforts on that.
Luckily, he’s home and he can probably find a way to disguise this unfortunate situation until it goes away, even if he has to hide out in the bathroom for a while.
Parking the car up outside, he just stares forward for a moment, unsure how to play this. Does he let go first? Does he kiss you? Will a kiss make his situation even harder to navigate??
He shuts his eyes tight.
‘Lars?’ you whisper from beside him, and he winces. ‘It’s okay. Do you want- I mean, I can touch you. I’d really like to, if you want me to.’
He turns to you then, watery blue eyes glinting in the moonlight, filled with panic and desire and hope.
‘I’ve thought about it,’ you go on, carefully, ‘quite a lot actually. I wasn’t sure if you’d be ready yet. And it’s okay if you’re not! I just thought… well, since you’re-’
‘How do I know if I’m ready?’ he asks, voice low, his brow pinched as he tries to breathe through it.
‘Oh, um… I guess you don’t really? It’s more about what feels right to you in the moment, I suppose. If you feel like you want to.’
Lars nods, averting his gaze, considering. Processing. The tent in his trousers still painfully evident.
‘I- I think I want to,’ he tries.
‘If you want we could just try it first to see how you feel. I can stop anytime.’
His hand feels clammy in yours now and his other hand is gripping the steering wheel so tight you're surprised he hasn't snapped it in two.
‘Yeah. I want to try it,’ he says, voice cracking a little half way with shame. He's certain though.
‘You’re sure?’
He nods. ‘I’m sure.’
‘You can guide my hand if you-’
‘I trust you,’ he blurts, surprising even himself, ‘more than anyone, I trust you.’
'Yeah?'
'Yes!'
You feel your own cheeks warming up.
‘How do you like it?’ you ask, and Lars feels his cock throb with heat.
‘I... don’t know.’ He swallows hard.
‘That’s okay. We can figure it out. Together.’
You squeeze his hand and he squeezes back, letting out a little whine. He’s aching so much for you now; this is the longest he’s ever entertained the thought — and then before he can stop himself, he lets out a little, ‘Please.’
Gently, you slip your hand out of his, and place your palm over the bulge in his trousers.
He bucks his hips involuntarily, it’s partly surprise, partly instinct.
‘You’re so hard for me,’ you coo, ‘and so big-’
Lars is glad it's the dark because he knows he must look desperate, and he can’t bring himself to look at what you're doing either. It's one thing that he wants it but to be faced with it completely, he may combust.
‘Can you spread your legs for me?’ you ask gently.
He shifts a little in the driver’s seat to accommodate your request.
‘That’s it, baby. I’m going to unfasten your pants now, okay?’
He nods, eyes shut tight again, head tilted back against the headrest in an attempt to ground himself.
‘If it’s too much, just say so, or push my hand away and I’ll stop. Got it?’
‘Yes-’ he whines.
You slide your hand into his underwear and Lars sucks in a sharp breath. It feels heavenly, like all the touch he’s spent a lifetime avoiding is concentrated together in this one caress, but it feels... good? So good he can't think of a way to explain it.
Your fingers curl around his length and you begin stroke slowly, softly, watching his face contort as he adjusts to this sudden sensation of touch being not only tolerable, but something he can't get enough of.
The moans that fill the car as you glide your fist over his cock are obscene, and if Lars wasn’t so enraptured, he’d be fiercely embarrassed about them.
It’s like he’s floating above existence and sinking into pleasure both at once. He wants this sensation to last forever and yet, he feels this unavoidable pull to chase it.
‘F-faster,’ he groans, ragged and breathless.
You do as he asks, pumping your fist a little harder, feeling him throb in your grip.
‘I- I can’t- I’m gonna-’
Lars can’t get the words to come out quite right, but you don’t need him to. You can feel it. It's quick, but it must be so intense for him and honestly nothing is hotter than a man who can't help but immediately fall apart at your touch.
‘Cum for me, baby, I want you to cum all over my hand, you’re doing so good.’
Heart slamming in his chest, he spills thick and hot and fast, rutting up into your fist. His back arches and guttural sobs tear from his chest before he slumps forward and the horn sounds, no doubt alerting Karin who you’re vaguely aware is peering out of an upstairs window.
Theres a lot, enough to make you wonder when the last time was that he touched himself.
Lars flops back into the drivers seat when the waves of his pleasure subside, panting and whimpering and trembling.
You keep stroking him with gentle little swipes of your thumb to keep him grounded with you as he softens in your palm. Only then do you slide your hand out and zip his pants back up.
He’s still catching his breath, working through it all, so you just sit beside him, praising him with whispers and carefully tucking his hair back into place where it’s come loose in thick strands, stuck to his damp forehead.
‘How was it?’ you ask when he’s recovered enough to open his eyes.
Lars turns his face to you, cheeks streaked with tears. ‘Overwhelming,' he sniffles. 'It was like every good feeling I’ve ever experienced, all at once.’
You smile back at him.
‘Is that how it always feels? Is that what I’ve been missing out on?’
‘Maybe not always. There might be some things you don’t enjoy as much, and there might be things you like more, but you only find out by trying them, if and when you feel ready.’
‘I want to try all of them,’ he says, dead serious, and you can't help but giggle. It feels kind of naughty somehow.
‘Me too. With you,’ you say.
A gentle smile pulls at his lips for a brief moment.
‘I didn’t mean to get so turned on just from the touch of your hand… I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be, I liked it,' you grin. 'Lars, when was the last time you… y’know?’
‘Oh I don’t touch myself,’ he says simply. It feels easier now you've taken this step together. ‘But if I’d known it could be so-’ he whistles out a breath, ‘I should have taken it up a long time ago.’
He’s joking around, you know he is, but you decide to take a chance and push it.
‘There’s no time like the present.’
Lars raises his eyebrows at you, wondering if you're serious, and if his legs are still too shaky to get inside yet because if you are, he's not sure how long he can wait.
‘Let’s go make a start shall we? We could do it together?’ you smirk at him playfully.
The prospect of seeing you pleasure yourself for him is enough to send him to an early grave, but his legs sure are feeling better all of a sudden.
𑣲⋆ for the past couple years or so, seb's has been flourishing. it became the hit spot for late nights, romantic evenings, you name it. funny how the world worked: sebastian got the success he always wanted, and in exchange, had to watch dozens of couples every night, reminding him of what had to be lost in order to get here. he doesn't complain anymore. even if there was a world it worked where it worked out, it wasn't his.
𑣲⋆ slowly, seb's got him in contact with other musicians, just as passionate as him. one of the main ways he got over mia was through the change of his relationship with music. now, it wasn't just him alone playing, finding peace in the flow of the songs instead of people. now, he had company he could talk to about his favorite albums and singers. he had new friends that organized jam sessions with him in mind, riffing on piano.
𑣲⋆ the first step was community, learning to love himself because so many people helped him reinstate his confidence. unbeknownst to him, he was ready for romance again. but he only found out he was when he met you. one of his friends asked if he could bring an extra musician to seb's next jam session. sebastian thought, the more the merrier, and nothing else. the day came and he was too busy setting up to remember what he said. but then you walked in. he nearly tripped over the amps. you were the one that helped him up.
𑣲⋆ the lighting of the club didn't help in the slightest. you were bathed in the deep purple lights, hazy but delicate over your skin. you introduced yourself, he shook your hand, and you put your other hand on his arm as you complimented the club's interior that sent a shock through him. he prayed to god you were just a pretty picture and an average musician.
𑣲⋆ but lo and behold, when everything was ready, you blew him away. but he didn't feel doomed like he thought he would. people took turns soloing, he gave you what he could on piano, and you returned the energy. every smile you threw him made him more and more giddy. the hour-long jam felt like five minutes. and when you weren't soloing, you were writing something down in a notepad... good thing jazz can be interpretive, because his fingers slipped a few times when he was too busy looking at you.
𑣲⋆ it was the most fun he had in a while. everyone packed their things slower than they set up, taking the time to socialize. sebastian took the opportunity to ask about your notes. turns out, you were a songwriter, got some ideas from the jam session. when you said his piano playing inspired you, he smiled. "really?" he asked. "well, if you ever wanna grab a drink sometime, maybe you and i can... inspire each other."
𑣲⋆ he was charming and sweet. he made you feel interesting. you had all his attention. so you decided, what the hell, and gave him your phone number. he was expecting to feel a lot more doomed about this new romantic endeavor. but strangely enough, he didn't feel like that at all.
notes: i finally did my duty of writing for sebastian 🙂↕️ of coure there are other gosling characters i need to get to (six, colt, etc.) but i will in due time because they all offer fun things to write about. requests are open so stop by if you have any ideas or just want to chat >< !
paring: kara zor-el x fem! reader. your girlfriend’s dog seriously needs a bath ╱ sfw: reader isn’t a dog person, short as hell, krypto being krypto
"Surprise!" Kara's bright voice rang out the moment you stepped into the apartment.
Under normal circumstances, coming home to your girlfriend holding a bag of takeout after an exhausting workday would have been a dream. Right now, however, your attention was entirely hijacked by a scene of utter devastation.
"My goodness," you breathed out.
"Awww, did you really miss me that much? It’s only been a few hours," Kara teased, sliding her hands onto your waist. You immediately pushed them away.
"Not you," you muttered, gesturing wildly at the space around you. "Look at this."
Your pristine marble floors, along with the walls and the ceiling, were stamped with a chaotic pattern of muddy paw prints. The living room looked like a war zone; trash was strewn everywhere except the actual bin, and your bookshelf had been thoroughly ransacked.
Sitting proudly in the center of the destruction was the innocent-looking culprit. His white fur was a dingy gray, and his snout was covered in the remnants of some kind of sauce.
"Right... well, that part wasn't exactly in my plans for our date," Kara offered weakly.
Rolling your eyes, you tried your best to maintain a stern face. It was an uphill battle against those puppy eyes of her.
Dating a girl from another planet certainly came with a unique set of complications, and a super-powered canine was high on that list.
While you had never considered yourself a dog lover, Krypto had slowly wormed his way into your heart, to the point where he occasionally claimed a spot on your bed.
"Kara, this dog needs a bath right now," you commanded.
Super-strength or not, Kara stood no chance against your glare and was quickly dispatched to the nearest store for dog shampoo. By the time she flew back, you had already prepped the bathroom and changed into some casual, splash-ready clothes.
Then came the real test: convincing Krypto to get into the tub.
The ensuing struggle only multiplied the mess you were trying to fix. Surprisingly, the dog seemed to take orders from you much better than from Kara, and with a strategic use of treats, you managed to work up a lather. But the victory was short-lived. With one powerful shake, Krypto drenched your entire face, sending Kara into fits of laughter at your dripping, miserable expression.
Without hesitation, you scooped up a handful of water and splashed it right into her face.
"Hey!" she gasped.
"You had that coming," you pointed out, and she couldn't even argue.
For a moment, Krypto actually settled down, behaving remarkably well. You celebrated the peace way too early, though.
In a stroke of pure bad luck, a stray bird decided to land on the bathroom windowsill. Instantly, the super-dog launched into the air after it, barking frantically. He left a trail of suds and water splattered across every square inch of the room, sending your shampoos and lotions crashing to the floor.
Wiping a stray bubble from your eye, you sighed deeply. "This is why I prefer cats."
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This is a yap session so scroll if you feel so inclined to.
As a person who reads fanfiction you are not going to catch me complaining about what it is that people are writing. I am an AVID consumer of ‘x reader’ fanfiction and l hate to see people complain about “too much smut” or “messy writing” you guys have NO RIGHT to complain about the things that people write as a HOBBY for FUN. It infuriates me to see so many people shit on authors who write smut. I’ve seen so many authors say that it’s the only way to get people to interact with what they write. Or they could just LIKE writing smut. There are so many phenomenal writers on this app who could give you exactly what you’re looking for. You guys have become too prideful. A lot of you will say “ Well I’m the consumer so l have a right to criticize what I’m consuming.” or “Well l can say something because where would they be without me?” You guys have to check yourselves. Unless an author specifies that they are open to criticism do NOT give it. It is rude and uncalled for when people work so hard. It’s the same as someone showing you their art and the first thing you say is “the lines are too crooked”. Enjoy or scroll. Don’t be an asshole.
I like that Supergirl says it’s okay to kill someone’s abuser so long as you don’t let the thirteen year old do it and I like that Supergirl says vengeance will not solve things but neither will allowing a cycle of violence to continue
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