#but I'm enjoying what this is building up to be

[mattscoquette]

“ 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 - 𝐦.𝐬. ౨ৎ “

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: bestfriend!dom!matt x fem!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you and your flirty best friend matt go to a party together, what happens when you two play spin the bottle? inspired from this post by @chrispeycream33

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut, unprotected p in v, oral (both receiving), kinda rough, spit, use of pet names, drinking, drunk sex, mentions of alcohol, no use of y/n

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.3k

𝐚/𝐧: heyyy ... heyyy... i've never written anything this rough before LOL but i saw this idea on my feed and i had to write it lmfao. anyway i'm gonna start trying to get to the requests in my inbox bc there r some rlly good ones im excited to write. as always i hope everyone enjoys!

xoxo ₊˚⊹ ୨ৎ

⋆。˚ ౨ৎ

you stood in front of your full length mirror, tugging at the black mini skirt that hugged your hips. you cocked your head to the side, debating if you should change your top, unsure if the hot pink baby tee and knee high boots you were currently sporting was “too much” for the party you were going to tonight. before you had time to grab another top and change, you were interrupted by the quiet buzzing coming from your phone that was on top of your bedsheets. you picked up it, readings your best friend’s name as it flashed against the screen.

“hi matt!” you smiled as you picked up the call, holding the phone between your ear and shoulder, returning to look at your outfit in the mirror once more, attempting to fix your skirt yet again.

“hey, we’re outside,” the boy replied as you heard the car engine stop running from his line of the phone.

“okay, just give me a minute, i may change really quickly.” you told him, frantically rummaging through your hangers looking for something to switch into.

“why?” matt questioned, “i bet you look great in whatever you have on now.”

you felt your chest flutter at the compliment, although it wasn’t out of the ordinary for your friendship. you and matt were constantly flirting with one another. you were always having sleep overs, giving each other overly-nice compliments, sharing lingering hugs, you name it. the two of you were comfortable with it all, but there was always an underlying need for more underneath all the friendliness.

“i’ll be down in a minute then.” you said, grabbing your purse off your dresser and giving the mirror one last glance before leaving your apartment. you hung up the phone, making your way out of the building to be met with matt’s van parked out front, his brother chris already in the back seat next to nick to give you your spot in matt’s car. you smiled and waved, opening the door and letting it slam shut behind you as you climbed in.

“hi matty!” you smiled, pulling the boy in for a hug, getting a whiff of his musky cologne mixed with his freshly washed hair.

“you look so good,” matt whispered in your ear, “you always do.” you pulled away blushing, getting a good look at matt. he wore a black plain t shirt, matched with a black denim jacket and various silver necklaces. his brown hair flopped down over his eyes, matt running a quick hand through it to tame is slightly as it bounced back into his usual middle part.

smiling, you turned around, saying hi to the other two triplets in the back as matt began to leave your apartment complex. the girl who was throwing the party was some influencer who was a mutual friend of the triplets, so they were the only people you really knew who were attending. you relaxed into your seat, getting comfortable as you all made your way to the party.

˳·˖ 𓂃✧

the flashing lights and loud music pumping through gigantic speakers washed over you as you walked into the large house, matt following close behind you with his hand on the small of your back, nick and chris trailing ahead of you two. you four were immediately met by a few influencers who were friends with the triplets, walking over to join in on their conversation. as you all eased into the party, you felt matt’s hot breath fan against your ear.

“want anything to drink?” he asked, peering down at you with a slight smirk on his face. you nodded. “i’ll right back.” he smiled.

you watched as matt disappeared into the kitchen, diverting your attention back to the group. he returned a few minutes later, handing you the red solo cup he held in his right hand. he held his drink out to yours, “cheers,” he smiled, clanking the plastic together as you both swung your heads back and drank alcoholic mix matt had just made for you both.

˳·˖ 𓂃✧

a few hours later, you were definitely feeling the buzz of the alcohol. you were currently on the dance floor with nick, matt leaned up against a wall talking with a few people that he knew, while his gaze stayed on you and the way your hips looked in that damn mini skirt. you were moving your body to the rhythm of the music, dancing hand in hand with nick and singing loudly. you broke away from his embrace for a moment to do a spin, stopping at the feeling of large hands gripping your waist. you looked up to be met with the sight of your best friend, his hair flopping down into his pretty blue eyes while he looked down at you. he looked good, the bright neons lights accentuating his sharp facial features as they danced across his face.

“matty!” you cheered, turning around to hug the boy, swaying for a moment before breaking away. “dance with me.”

he laughed, keeping his hands at your waist as he pulled you into him, moving you two along to the music. he, too, had quite a lot to drink, and he was enjoying the way your body pressed against his a little too much. he ducked his head down to your ear. “a couple of us were gonna go upstairs and play a game, you in?”

you pulled away, nodding feverishly as he took his hand in yours, bringing you towards the staircase. climbing up the stairs and making your way down the long hallway, he brought you into the lesser crowded living room to be met with chris and a few other of his friends, all spread out across the couch and chairs that decorated the room. you found an empty spot on the couch, squeezing in between two of matt’s friends, while he sat opposite from you on a recliner chair.

“okay, so,” one of the boys spoke up, placing the game on the table next to an empty beer bottle. “basically you have to do the dare on the card with the person you land on, or you have to drink.” you all nodded, settling into your seats as the game began. at first it started off mild, with cards like kiss the players cheek or tell them a secret about you, but as the game progressed the dares got dirtier and dirtier. it was currently your fourth turn, all of your previous dares had been small so far, but you kept sipping your drink, feeling more drunk now. you leaned forward, picking a card off the pile and reading it out loud.

“give the player you land on a lap dance.” you spoke, peering at the empty bottle on the table. a couple people laughed as you shook your head, reaching forwards to twist the glass bottle in front of you as you held your breath. after what seemed like an eternity, the bottle finally began to slow before stopping on matt. you looked up to meet his gaze, looking at him with wide eyes and going quiet.

“you gonna do it?” someone sitting at the end of the couch spoke up.

you looked back and forth between the bottle and your best friend. you stood up swinging back the last of your drink for a quick confidence boost, walking around the table to matt, and throwing your legs across his lap as you stood in front of him, your ass on full display in front of him.

his hands instantly found their way to your waist, holding you in place as you sank down on his lap, hovering ever-so-slightly. you started slow, moving your hips side to side teasingly, barely making contact with him. you then quickened your pace, placing all your weight down on his lap, your ass pressing against his crotch as you grinded your hips against his backwards. your arm moved around his neck, pulling is head into you as you let the buzz of the alcohol take over. you felt the bulge in his jeans grow more and more as you continued to move you hips back and forth against him, quickly spinning around so you were now straddling him. your arms stayed wrapped around his neck while you moved your hips in small slow circles, grinding down hard against his erection, hearing him groan lightly in your ear. you were both so lost in your movements, you forgot you were in a living room full of people until you heard a couple hollers and whistles. you turned away from matt, flashing everyone a somewhat embarrassed smile as you got up from his lap, purposefully turning around so your ass was right in front of matt.

you returned back to your spot on the couch, the next few people taking their turns as your eyes stayed fixed on matt the entire time, watching him try to hide his boner. the girl next to him was finishing her turn -tell your most embarrassing hook up story - as matt leaned forward to grab a card. you watched as he read the card aloud, “spend fifteen minutes in a bedroom with the player you land on.” he spun the glass bottle, you keeping your gaze on matt the entire time.

the sound of the spinning glass on the wood table stopped, and you looked down to be met with the tip pointing at you. you bring your gaze back up to matt, both of you standing up abruptly, matt grabbing your hand and dragging you to the nearest open bedroom he could find. he ushered you in quickly, slamming the door closed behind you, pushing you up against it, and attacking your neck with his mouth.

“matt,” you gasp out at the feeling of his teeth grazing against your neck as he leaves marks all down your neck and across your collarbones. he quickly finds the sweet spot beneath your ear, licking and sucking at the sensitive skin. he keeps his hand at your neck, breaking away from you to look into your eyes.

“tell me if this is okay,” he says, his thumb stroking your neck as he keeps you looking at him. you nodded, pulling him into you as your lips meet in a messy kiss. his hands move from your neck to your ass, kneading the flesh as your arms tangle around him. he brings his hands down to your thighs, signaling for you to jump up. your legs wrap around his waist while he carries you over to the bed, throwing you down as he stands over you.

you look up at him, your chest heaving as you sit up slightly, propped back on your elbows. you watch as your best friend sinks to the ground on his knees, pulling your legs towards his body, and kissing from your knee up your thigh. you moan out loud as you feel him get closer and closer to your core, roughly sucking and licking at the soft skin of your inner thighs. he nudges your skirt up with his face, starting to press soft kisses to your clit over the dark spot on your panties. “please,” you whine out, bucking you hips into his face.

“so fucking needy” he groans, looping his fingers beneath the waistband of your laced underwear and tugging them down, throwing them on the floor behind him. he pulls away admiring your pussy, then dives in, his tongue lapping around your folds in a figure 8 motion. you moaned as your hips grinded against his face, his nose repeatedly bumping into you clit. “tastes so good.” he mumbled from in between your legs.

he continued to make a mess of you, bringing you closer and closer to your release, when you felt his slender fingers graze against your entrance, lightly tracing them back and forth to tease you. “fuck” you whined, reaching down to tangle your manicured nails into his brown locks, pushing him further into you as he slipped his middle finger inside of you. he continued to lick all around your pussy while thrusting his fingers in and out, curling them up to find that sweet spot. the only sounds in the room were of matt’s tongue against your wetness and your moans blended together as you kept grinding your hips up into matt, until he wrapped his arm around your waist to hold you still.

“are you getting close?” he taunted, pulling away for a moment to flash you a grin from in between your legs. you nodded, unable to speak as matt returned to pussy, his tongue moving at a somehow faster pace. the mix between his mouth and fingers were all too much, and you were about to snap.

“matt,” you panted, trying to let him know you were about to come.

“i know, pretty, make a mess of me.” he moaned, nuzzling himself further into your wetness, holding your shaking hips down against the bed as you released all over his tongue, hard. he sat back on his knees, admiring his work as he stood up to climb over you, yanking off his jacket and t shirt. you looked up at your best friend with wide eyes as he held himself over you, gripping your jaw with his hand adorned in silver rings. his lips glistened with saliva and your arousal as they tugged into a smirk. “open” he commanded.

you complied, opening your mouth up at him, sticking your tongue out as he spit, closing your jaw for you and telling you to swallow. “you gonna be a good girl and let your best friend fuck you?” he asked, eyes scanning your face for any hint of hesitance.

“yes.” your voice was barely above a whisper. matt smiled, leaning down to meet your lips in a sloppy kiss, your teeth bumping against one another. you felt his hardened dick pressing against your exposed thigh through his jeans, lacing your fingers through the belt loops to grind his hips against you, earning a whine from the brunette haired boy. this allowed you to slip your to tongue into his mouth as you both continued to make out, both growing needier and needier.

he broke away from your mouth, leaving hot kisses and dark marks all down your neck. making his way to your chest, he pulled your shirt up and groaned at the sight, seeing as you decided on wearing no bra tonight. matt began leaving kisses along the valley of your breast, stopping when he got to your hardened nipple to flick his tongue across.

“fuck” you whined out, continuing to grind your hips up against his while he kept on sucking at your skin. after a minute, he switched to your other tit, sucking and licking at the bud as his hand moved up to massage your other, gripping and squeezing at the flesh.

matt pulled away with a goofy smile on his face, looking down at the complete wreck he’s made of you. your shirt and skirt were both pulled up, your panties long gone and you neck and chest covered in bruises he had left all over you. his hands trailed across your stomach, pulling your skirt up even further so it now laid above your hips. “so fucking pretty,” he muttered to himself, “i want to absolutely ruin you.”

“please matty,” you panted as you threw your head back, “need you so bad.” your hands moved to the buckle of his belt, fiddling with it as it became undone, hanging around his hips loosely. you yanked his jeans down, leaving him in just his dark blue boxers. your mouth hung agape at his bulge, a small wet spot at the tip from his pre cum. you lightly brushed your fingers back and forth across his clothed dick, matt hanging his head low and groaning.

“stop fucking teasing,” he warned as his face scrunched up in pleasure, whining slightly as you continued your actions. you went to dip your hand below his boxers when you felt matt grab your waist, flipping the both of you around so you were now on top of him. “what did i just say to you?” he asked, his grip on you now moving up to the back of your head.

your eyes widened at his change in demeanor. “sorry, i-” you muttered meekly, matt simply guiding you down to his dick. you came face to face with his bulge, looking up at him through hooded eyelashes. “don’t be a fucking tease this time,” he told you, watching as you simply nodded. your fingers dipped below the waistline of his boxers, pulling them down as his erection sprang free. you held his dick in your hand, running your thumb along the tip before licking a stripe all the way to up his base. you repeated this action a few more times, then fully taking him in your mouth as far as you could go.

“fuck baby,” matt groaned, his head thrown back in pleasure as he guided you by your hair up and down on his dick. you began to lap your tongue around his cock, jerking off what you couldn’t get in your mouth. you continued to suck him off, pulling all the way off and then fully deep throating him. his grunts became louder and his hands were gripping the back of your head as he fucked your throat, you moaning around his dick sending vibrations throughout his body. “being such a fucking good girl for me.”

you whined at his comment, feeling him pull you off his dick, giving him a confused look.

“wanna finish inside you.” he told you, flipping you two around yet again you were underneath him once more. he ran his hands along the bunched up fabric of your shirt, pulling it over your head to join the pile of clothes scattered across the floor. his one hand stayed at your chest, squeezing your tit, while his other hand stroked himself as he lined up with your entrance. he looked up at you for a moment, proceeding when you gave him your nod of approval. he pushed in fast, immediately pulling out and then slamming back into you. you moaned loudly, and if it weren’t for the loud music downstairs, everyone would have heard you. matt repeated this action, thrusting in and out of you at an absolutely ungodly speed.

unable to form sentences, strings of pleas and whines left your mouth as matt kept on pounding into you, your legs twisting up to wrap around his hips. his hand crept down, rubbing circles at your clit with his thumb, causing you to let out a pornographic moan. you felt matt nuzzle into the crook of your neck, sucking harshly to leave more marks across your throat as he brought you closer to your release. ���being such a good girl letting your friend fuck you like this,” matt groaned in your neck, “so fucking needy for me.”

“mm please,” you gasped, feeling matt slam into you even harder and faster, “’m so close.”

“cum all over me baby,” matt grunted, holding your hips steadily while he snapped his up into yours. his words were enough to send you over the edge, you practically screamed, cumming hard all over his dick, his pace not slowing down. he gave you a few more hard thrusts before letting out a loud groan, feeling his dick twitch as he came deep inside of you. you both rode out your orgasms together, your movements becoming slower as the two of breathed heavily against one another, both of you coming down from your highs.

“fuck,” matt laughed, his arms still wrapped around your waist as he giggled into you neck, “that was so hot.”

“yeah,” you breathed, stroking the back of his hair, trying to recompose yourself.

you two jolted up as you heard a loud pounding on the door, a guy’s voice shouting over the music from the other side. “it’s been more than fifteen minutes!” he yelled. you and matt both looked at each other, before bursting into a fit of giggles.

Ⓒ 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄 | taglist

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬:

@alorsxsturn @sturniolossss @cammie4298 @bussybandit1 @amorttentia @franticroads @sturnsssbow @cams5sos @strombolilovr @st7rnioioss @junnniiieee07 @mattscurlygirly @simply-a-simper @sturnrc @sturnifyed @freshlovie @imwetforyourmom @69isabella69 @mattsturnxoxo @stonermattsgf @imsosillygoofylol @sturnioloxlver @jnkvivi @delaneysturniolo @klaus223492 @sturniololvrrr @maya555sblog @riversandwinds @minhyucks @saturnstrn @mattslatinagf @mattssluttywaist @mmay4ever @hbramas

#𐙚 ⊹ ࣪ ˖ #‧₊˚ 𓂃 𝜗𝜚 #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut

[joelscruff]

forget my charms (dave york x f!reader) 18+

a/n finally watched equalizer 2 and he's been living in my mind rent free! i don't really know what this is tbh, it was kind of a challenge to myself to try and write a drabble because i'm notoriously bad at keeping fics short & sweet. so i'm not sure how i feel about the lack of real story here but we go anyway! enjoy & please be sure to read the warnings! summary: your new boss gives you a memorable first day. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: fingering, lap sitting, power imbalance, infidelity, unprotected p in v (doggy), creampie, finger sucking, dirty talk, praise kink, tie used as a gag word count: 1.5k

You only met him this morning. It had been brief, his office just one stop of many on your guided tour the first day of your new job. Your co-worker had tapped lightly on his door, opened it a crack and told him he should come meet the new hire. Your stomach had turned when you'd heard him sigh deeply on the other side - you were already feeling out of place, more than a little like a fish out of water, and the concept of disrupting the boss on the first day wasn't appealing in the slightest.

But he'd been gracious. He'd come to the door and opened it wider, stood beneath the arch with an appraising little smile on his lips as he looked at you. It had been memorable, the way he'd taken your hand in his large palm and squeezed, peering at you with something attentive in his eyes, almost... intrigued. Welcome, he'd told you, it's lovely to meet you.

And now, only hours later, his fingers are in your pussy.

Pumping slow and deep, rhythmic and filthy as you lounge in his lap with your legs wide and your head resting languidly against the heat of his neck. He's got your skirt pulled up, one big hand spread firm over your trembling belly while he fucks you with his middle and index. The flickering blue of his computer monitor is your only source of light, showering his office in a dim glow.

You whimper and his fingers still, lodged deep inside your heat. He hushes you softly, strokes your tummy with his thumb and leans back slightly in his chair.

"Shh, sweetheart," he murmurs, voice low and husky, "Don't want the night crew to know what we're doing in here, now do we?"

No, you certainly don't. Can't even imagine what the reaction would be were anyone from the office to know you're being fingered by the boss on your first day. You bite down on your lip and lean back into his lap, look down with hooded eyes as he slowly resumes the slow plunge of his fingers. They're so thick, coated in a clear gloss of your release that glows blue in the light. He places his thumb on your clit, applies pressure, and you let out another pathetic whimper.

"Ohh, poor thing," he admonishes gently, "You want something in your mouth to help you stay quiet?" his hand comes up to brush against your face, "Hm? You need something to suck on?"

Your brain feels empty but you nod anyway, eyelashes fluttering as he wastes no time in slipping the middle and index of his left hand past the wetness of your lips. You suck immediately, closing your eyes and feeling them roll behind your lids as he fucks two of your holes at once, just taking, using.

Is this why I'm here, you can't help but think to yourself, did I only get this job so he could play with me like some kind of doll?

You can't quite believe you're even in this situation. You'd stayed late in order to make a good impression, still had some things you needed to figure out at your desk anyway. Everyone else had slowly trickled out of the office, until you'd realized all that remained was you and Mr. York. He'd smiled at you through the open blinds of his office, leaning back in his chair with his legs wide and his arms stretched behind his head. He'd brought one down when your eyes had met, crooked his finger as if to say, Come here for a minute.

You'd gotten up from your desk and entered his office, anxiety building in the pit of your stomach. You'd hoped you weren't about to be reprimanded for something you thought would impress him.

But he didn't reprimand you. He didn't mention the fact that you were staying late, didn't ask about how the job was treating you, if there was anything you needed, no. Instead, he'd looked you up and down again with that assessing, calculative stare and murmured, "Can you come sit in my lap for a little while, sweetheart?"

You suppose you could've said no. Probably should have, actually. That would have been the most logical thing to do - slam the door and quit your job, maybe even sue for harassment. Anyone else probably would have. But you'd taken one look at his crotch, seen the noticeably thick shape that bulged against his thigh, and realized he'd been sitting there watching you for who knows how long. He'd gotten that hard just from looking, assessing.

Fuck it.

"There you go," he breathes softly now, peering at you with dark and imploring eyes as he fucks your mouth and pussy, "That's a good girl, honey, I know," his brow furrows when you whine around his fingers, "I know, baby. You're doing so good."

He rocks you in his lap like you belong there, and it's impossible not to feel the way his clothed cock throbs against your ass. You want to see it so badly, want to touch it, taste it - but he doesn't give you the opportunity. Instead, he circles his thumb against your clit until you're shaking in his arms, hands gripping anything you can reach - the chair, your knee, his wrist. Your orgasm rolls through you and his fingers muffle the sound of your whines, your gasps, until your bones feel like jelly and your heart has slowed. He stills his movements again and lazily pulls all four fingers out of you, watches you breathe deeply and fall back against him with goosebumps rising on your skin.

"Get up now, baby. Bend over the desk for me," he tells you in that low voice, "Show me your pussy."

You pull yourself out of his lap on extremely shaky legs but obey his orders, inching forward a little to position yourself against his desk. You can feel his eyes on you as you reach back and pull yourself apart for him, show him where his fingers have invaded and explored, opened you up and made you drool.

"Juicy little thing," you hear him murmur, and then his belt buckle is jangling and you know what comes next. Legs still trembling, you keep holding yourself open and push yourself further down onto the desk, skirt pulled high and panties still hanging off one of your ankles.

He's filling you up in no time at all, cock plunged deep to the hilt and so much bigger than you'd anticipated. His tip kisses a spot inside of you that you're not sure anyone's ever been able to reach, and against your own volition you moan, low and long, full of pleasure and desperation.

You hear him tsk somewhere above you, "You really can't stay quiet can you?" He says it softly but it's full of condescension, like it's starting to genuinely bother him. Before you can apologize he's reaching down for something, still bottomed out completely inside of you as his arms and hands seem to do something out of sight. A few seconds later his blue polka dotted tie appears in front of your face, and then he's carefully settling the soft material between your lips, pulling back and tying it meticulously behind your head. A makeshift gag.

"Gotta learn to be quiet when I fuck you, okay?" he breathes, raspy and dark as he slowly pulls his cock from your pussy, only to feed it back to you again just as slow, "You don't want us to get in trouble, do you?"

No, sir, you want to whisper, but you can't. All you can do is nod slightly and grip the desk when he starts to fuck you in earnest, thrusting deep and hard before pulling out and doing it all over again. Your thighs quiver and shake against the cool wood, and as you lay there and let him take, you spot something out of the corner of your eye.

A framed picture of a family - his family.

You avert your eyes, turning your head slightly to see where his left hand is gripping your shoulder as he fucks you - you spot the wedding ring immediately. Christ.

But you don't stop it. You don't push him away, you don't leave. Even though you probably should. Even though the logical part of your brain is screaming at you that what's happening really shouldn't be, especially now that you know he's a married man.

You just let him use you. You let him fuck and fill you until he's gripping your hair in his fist and his cock is spasming and pulsing inside of you. You let him release his entire load inside your pussy, bare and messy. And then you let him pull you into his chair, tug the tie from your mouth and situate you back in his lap, still impaled on his cock.

Neither of you speak for a solid minute. He catches his breath while you try not to look at the photograph, to forget its existence entirely.

"The last one quit the first day," you hear him mumble, voice edged with tiredness, "But you won't, will you?" He thrusts shallowly inside of you, holds you against his chest as his cum starts to leak out and dribble down the hefty shape of his balls. "You'll let me do this, huh?"

What the fuck have you gotten yourself into?

#dave york x reader #dave york smut #*

[a-world-with0ut-dr34ms]

Make Me Beg

Ghost x Reader

Ghost had been curious to see if you could be the one to make him beg for a change, in which to both his pleasure and dismay, you oblige.

NSFW 18+, Shameless Smut, Porn w/ little Plot, Explicit Description, Graphic Language, AFAB Reader, P in V Sex, Teasing, Sexual Tension, Flirting, Slight build-up, A lot of edging, slight Nipple-Play, Tit-Fucking, Handjobs, Kissing, Blowjobs, Fingering, somewhat Touch Starved!Ghost, Dom!Reader (in essence), One Shot, Somewhat proofread

WC: 3.4k~

A/N: I haven't written anything since November. Trying to dust off the old bones. I hope you enjoy~

Masterlist

"Go on then," Ghost challenged you, this towering mass of man now looming in the doorway to your apartment like an impending shadow. "Make me beg for it."

You scoff, the remaining space between you two growing smaller by the second. You had been joking earlier (and a bit tipsy) when you claimed you could make him beg for you if you tried hard enough; a fast-growing habit, teasing him ever since you learned of his interest in you. To be fair, he'd been rather shy about it. But it seems it only took a few drinks and some jeering from the others tonight for him to finally do something.

He closes the door behind himself, still masked and in his boots, as he saunters towards you, his height and size growing more massive at every lost inch of space. His olive eyes, near black in the muted lights of your living room, seem to be devouring the entirety of your form before him, standing idle with your heart thumping within your throat. The smirk on your face can only hide it so well.

"Make you beg?" You cross your arms and start to lean on your hip rather provocatively. "Why? Do you want to beg for me, Simon?"

Ghost chuckles, his eyes dipping between your lips and collarbone, and noticing how you swallow at the sight, as your skin calls to him like a siren's song. In reality, it wouldn't be a hard thing at all having him beg for you, but did you know that? It's what's got him so curious to find out.

"I want to see if you can make me," he says. "Since you seemed so confident earlier. Or was it just talk?"

The way his voice rolls from his tongue like a husky growl has you near weak in the knees. Making him beg you seemed more daunting at every second, but you always loved a challenge. You lick your lips and step even closer, leaving your body just barely out of reach. You can tell he wants to lean in just from how his head is ducked down at you, eyes having been locked on yours since stepping in. Like a predator in every way, wanting to work for his meal.

“How exactly do I make you beg?” you ask him.

“I can't give you all the ideas,” he teases.

You pout. “And I'm guessing you're not gonna make it easy for me then.”

“Where's the fun in that, love?”

You cross your arms and think, tilting your head to the side and looking him up and down. All the while you felt his body heat radiating before you, his rainy pine-like scent from outside filling your nostrils. He keeps his hands at his sides, however much he wants to let them rest at your hips and pull you in, having you begging him instead.

And then it hits you.

“I know just the thing.”

By the fifteenth-minute mark of Ghost not-so-patiently waiting alone for you to emerge from your restroom, he’d begun wondering what it could be that you were cooking up for him tonight. No doubt, it had something to do with this little idea that had suddenly popped into your head.

“How much longer?” He calls to you from by your dresser, having just started curiously looking at all the little souvenirs stacked there.

More thumping erupts from your side of the door, as though you were hopping about. “Just… give me a few more seconds...”

The bathroom door swings open, sweet scents and perfume pooling out behind you as you slowly step out. Once Ghost has laid his eyes on you, however, all the blood in his body damn near rushes to the lower halves of himself, his skin catching aflame like napalm. He knew you would give him your best shot, but he hadn't expected you to be so prepared.

You'd put on lingerie, a pair you'd been saving for a night special like this. It fits your form more perfectly than Ghost felt he deserved to bear witness to, from the way the lace meshes with the most supple parts of your breast, rising and falling at every breath you make, all the way to how your panties hug your hips, just screaming to be tugged away. How you could have been hiding a body as fine as this from him for so long would be a mystery forever lost in time.

Watching his eyes bounce up and down on your body makes you damn near want to burst into laughter. Maybe this will be easier than you initially thought.

“Was it worth the wait?” you ask.

Ghost slowly steps forward, looming, as his eyes haven't wavered once. “It’s about to be.”

And then you smirk. “Good. Now for the rules.”

Ghost pauses. “Rules?”

“That’s right,” you nod. “Since you want to challenge me. We have rules now.”

Ghost stands there slack-jawed beneath his mask, all the ideas he had running in his mind translating into a less-than-excited glare. The rules couldn't be all too bad, he imagined. And it wasn't like you were turning him away either. So he'll bite.

“A’right, let’s hear ‘em.”

“No touching.”

“Wha’?”

“No touching.”

“What’s so ever?”

“No, no. I get to touch you.” As you speak, letting your words ooze off your lips like honey, you close that last little bit of space you two had, finally letting a single hand rest on his boulderous chest. It's enough to make the man ready to tear your clothes off right then and there. “I get to touch you all I like,” you say. “However I like, for however long I like. But you… no touching. Not unless you beg me. And if you don’t listen, you'll have to beg me to forgive you.”

Ghost gives you a more lustful stare, feeling how your fingers curve over his broad muscles even through his coat. You look up at him, having bit your lips and exhaled ever so dauntingly, silently telling him how much you were about to enjoy yourself with him.

So he can't touch you? Very well then, bring it. Let's see what tricks you had under your sleeve.

“Such a tricky woman you are,” he all but purrs. “Very well then, I’ll play your game.”

“I thought you might.”

Gently, you guide the man back until his large legs had brushed your bed, where he willingly sat before you. Your hands then slowly slide across his body, his eyes not being able to help but take in the fullness of your own. But it wasn't until he'd felt this itching urge to reach out and feel your skin for himself that he began realizing just how difficult this challenge might be. It wouldn't help that his pants were growing uncomfortably tight, just begging for your touch of relief.

You would oblige him, somewhat slowly, however. You get down to your knees and work your way towards undressing him. First removed are his boots, then his coat, his pants, soon to be followed by his shirt. It's at this point you take a small step back to look at your new plaything for the night.

Ghost's body already looks good even in uniform, so seeing this muscular and scarred mass of man before you, all tatted and warm-blooded, felt just as surreal and awe-inducing as it had in your dreams. It didn't make you any less wet seeing him like this either.

“You want the mask on?” he asks you, breaking that little trance you were in. The man already couldn't touch you, he wasn't sure if he could sit through these temptations much longer.

You begin your answer by resting both your hands on his knees, letting yourself lean further in. It almost makes you laugh when you feel the hairs on his thighs begin rising from your touch, his body reacting against this cool demeanor you continued masquerading. “I'll take it off when I feel like it.”

“As you wish,” he teases. “I'm at your full disposal tonight, love. Both mind and body.”

“That you are.” You gently separate the man's legs, leaving before you a massive canyon of muscle leading toward an almost distractingly large bulge. It practically throbs beneath the fabric, already hard and aching for you. The longer your eyes linger there, the longer Ghost feels his breath trapped in his throat. Your sudden smile brings him back to, nonetheless, if rather anxiously so. “Now, be a good boy and keep your hands at your sides. That's something you can manage, yes?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

It's the way he doesn't argue with you, following your command as obediently as he would on the job that has you so excited to get started. You just couldn't wait to finally break that unshakable composure of his; making a play-toy out of him was just the added bonus.

Your hand reaches between his legs, cupping over his cock and taking a hefty but gentle handful, as the entire mass of it all was already too much for a single hand. His breathing comes low and shaky like small huffs from the nose, biting back moans as you slowly pull him free of his trousers, his cock spilling out large and ready. It was taking all of him not to have his eyes already rolling back behind his skull from your touch, and even more so not to lift a finger and join you.

“Goodness gracious,” you say teasingly. “How long have you been hiding this?”

Ghost begins to quip, only to have the words catch in his throat as you let your two fingers trace up his shaft, brushing against the soft, throbbing skin of his cock like feathers. You let your touch teeter between teasing and pleasing him, your index finger playing with his tip and smearing slick across the head of his cock and your thumb. Your other hand soon joins, before gently taking the base and dancing your fingers over him. It makes his entire body shiver, a moan trapping itself in his throat.

Of course, you do everything in your power to try and force those moans out of him; it had been the best part of this. You wanted the sound of his lust-drunk voice to soothe the back of your mind for all your future days to come. But even now, you knew he was holding some part of himself back, if not to challenge you in return.

"Don't be shy now, Si'," you said. "Let me hear you."

"You'll have to make me," he said back. "If you can manage that."

"I'm just warming up, in fact."

You begin jerking him off, only you do it so lightly, with gentle tugs and swipes of your finger, that it wouldn't be enough to finish the job, instead overstimulating the man and sending his body into an impatient frenzy. Despite his continued refusal to let his lips part and moan for you, the low hums he released and the heavy breathing of his chest let you know well enough that it had been taking everything in him not to. And seeing him start to squirm only makes you giggle devilishly.

You go at this inconsistent and playful rhythm for about seven minutes, though for Ghost that had felt equivalent to a half hour of pure sexual torture. And the worst part of all of this had been his hands, balling the sheets within his fists at his sides so as to not reach over and take hold of you.

No touching, you told him. He should have guessed it wouldn't be so easy.

“We'll be ‘ere all night at this rate,” he quips, though his words come out so stifled they're nearly at a whisper.

You giggle in response. “You say that like it's a bad thing.”

“Maybe not for you,” he says. “You're the one having all the fun.”

“Aw, this isn't fun, Si’?”

Ghost gives you the most deadpan look when he speaks, his voice low and filled with hunger. “Fun would be me throwing you on this bed ‘ere behind me and fucking you ‘til the sun rises.”

Ghost leans in now, letting his masked lips get so close to you that you could practically feel his breath in your ear. “You know you like the sound of that,” he growls. “Having me fuck you all night. Just bouncing up and down on my cock while I rail you good and deep. You want that, don't you love?”

You push him back against the bed, giving him a smug look as your grip on his cock grows more firm. Suddenly you've used your other hand to reach behind yourself, letting your bra unclasp and spill to the floor. Your breasts, now naked to him, look so moldable to the touch, the light curving off your skin so mouth-wateringly; Ghost wanted to do more than just touch you at this point. And even beneath a mask, you could tell. You could see it in his doe-like gaze.

“Just say the magic words then,” you smile. “Beg me.”

“What should I say?”

“I can't give you all the ideas.”

Not letting up your teasing, you finally take your hands away from him, your fingers now wet with spit and slick, rubbing over your breasts. Your fingers dance across your nipples before hugging your tits together and squeezing them with a light hum. You then lean forward and let the head of his cock gently press at your nipple, pre-cum webbing between you two as your hands to continue making a mess of yourself.

If he stared at you playing with him any longer, then the aching pain in his groan may just drive him insane. He hadn't cared any longer that your toying had his knuckles near white gripping the sheets, nor that the heat from your body had his toes curling, words barely able to process without coming out in a breathy grunt. He could watch you at his knees playing with him all day, if only this unbridled arousal could finally be released.

A bright idea crosses his mind, and then he closes his eyes. Your actions wouldn't go but the sensations wouldn't be as crazy if he weren't looking into your seductive gaze as you did them. For a few seconds that worked… until he felt something warm and wet engulf him, sucking lightly and making his hips begin to buck.

He opens his eyes and sure enough your mouth had gone over him, but only over the tip, as you let your drooling tongue circle about his cock like ice cream.

Your eyes meet his, and then you take your mouth away, replacing your look with a cheeky smile. You aren't about to let him off the hook so easily.

“I was just checking to make sure you were still awake,” you say.

“Fuckin’ evil, you are,” he grunts through another moan. “Not even a hint?”

“Say please.”

Please? It felt like such a simple thing to say now, though the more he thought about it the more he could feel his pride getting punched. You continuing to let your tits rub against his shaft made for a nice way to mend that pain, however, your breasts doing a better job at jerking him off than any hand he's ever felt before. 

“...Please.”

You gasp playfully. “Please what?”

“Please let me touch you,” he said.

“Is that all?”

You never did like to make it simple. Ghost shakes his head and grunts. “‘Tis not all...”

“I'm listening.”

Ghost sits up again, towering over you once more as he looks you in your eyes, skin damn near burning with heat.

“Let me fuck you,” he said. “I wanna make you feel as good as you’re doin’ me now. I want to have your body shaking-- aching for me. I want to hear your voice cryin’ out my name ‘til it gives out and it's nothin’ but gasps and hiccups. Need I say more?”

You sit there motionless for a moment just taking in the words, as Ghost's eyes all but devoured you, waiting feverishly for your reply. You'd been smiling all night, but this had really brought the shine to your lips.

You lift your hand and reach out, until you've clasped the top of his mask, before finally unveiling the blond and facing a hardened and scarred face flushed with lust. The second his mouth was bare you finally let your lips taste his, as you pulled him into a sloppy kiss still slurred by your earlier drinking. A few pecks are left before parting ways, letting your legs straddle him as you nibbled at his bottom lip on the way out. For a moment he had seemed hesitant to kiss you back, if only for two seconds, before his kisses grew so overpowering that you’d almost forgotten who’d initiated this in the first place.

With one final smirk, you say, “OK.” And like a starved beast, he takes hold of you, quickly reversing the roles and placing you onto your back. As he was now towering over you, suddenly you feel as though you might regret all the teasing from earlier.

Ghost takes a moment to himself just to look at you, his eyes slowly traveling up and down your body, and his heart rate increasing. He then lifts a hand and reaches out; you half expected him to touch you in the obvious areas, however, he surprises you when his hand cups your cheek, simply bringing your gaze to his.

“Now,” he lets his thumbs gently caress you. “I was thinking on giving you a taste of your own medicine… at first.” His thumb now glides across your lip as he speaks, slowly trailing down your body, past your collarbone, and then your naval, before finally forcing their way past the seam of your panties, large fingers now teetering at the edge of your clit. He holds himself there, just knowing his hand being only inches from your pussy was already driving you mad, your little lip-bite proving as such.

“You could do that, yes,” you nod.

“I could,” he agreed, his two fingers now curving over your cunt and teasing at your dripping hole, making a soaking mess of his fingers almost immediately. There was nothing more you wanted than for him to bring those fingers over your clit and go to town, yet he kept his hand still, his eyes remaining firmly on yours. “I'd have you beg me now; you wouldn't last a minute I reckon.”

“You want to bet?”

Ghost brings those same wet fingers back to his cock, where he slicks the mess you'd made over his pulsating erection, letting his large, rough thumb swipe at your dripping slit for more lubricant every so often, until his skin was damp with you.

His hands grip your thighs like play-doh as he gives them a light squeeze, pushing your legs back until your knees were at your ears and your cunt was spread bare to him like a juicy, pink desert. He can't keep himself away after witnessing such a maddening sight between your legs, pulling himself closer and letting his cock rest heavily below your navel. The sheer mass of it made the weight against your belly unavoidably heavy, your lower halves throbbing in ways you're sure he'd grown recently familiar with.

“I already told you what I want to do,” he says, while just as casually taking hold of himself and rubbing the tip of his head roughly against your clit, flicking and massaging it teasingly. You've barely any time to let your lip quiver in delightful anticipation before the walls of your pussy are suddenly and slowly penetrated. Ghost has already started a brutally long thrusting in and out of you the second that wet heat cups over his cock, making sure you felt every girthy inch of him on the way in. With a final shaky breath, before he puts his full efforts into making a mess of your body, Ghost brings his lips to your ear, letting his teeth and warm breath tickle and graze at your earlobe, wanting you to hear him clearly as he tells you, “I’m gonna fuck you ‘til my name comes out your mouth like hiccups.”

And he does just that.

Between the sound of his name bubbling out your throat at every deep thrust he made in you, and the harsh smacking of his lower half against yours, giving you that pleasurably rough grind with each impact, you’d been drooling with tears falling down your cheeks by the tenth consecutive minute. All the while, Ghost took advantage of his newfound ability to feel you, his large hands cupping and pawing at your breasts like stress balls, kneading at your flesh, and imprinting the very shape of you into his palms. When he grew bored with one position, he’d only flip you over and let you ride him next, watching you bounce on top and take all of him in like you’d been born to do so.

Your body quivers and shakes above him with pleasure as you feel his hands slide up your torso, taking another handful of your tits. You begin to fold above him, your face burying itself in his chest from the overwhelming sensation another orgasm had brought you.

Now it had been his turn to laugh. “Don’t tire out now, love,” he teases. “There’s still a few more hours ‘til the mornin’.”

(^3^) it's good to be back~

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost simon riley #call of duty ghost #mw2 ghost #ghost mwii #ghost mwiii #call of duty #modern warfare ii #call of duty modern warfare ii #mwii #mw2022 #call of duty modern warfare 2 #modern warfare 3 #modern warefare iii #call of duty modern warfare iii #call of duty modern warfare 3

[incendiobrock]

The Driskill Hotel {Chris Sturniolo}

Summary: fem!reader x bf!Chris go to Austin, Texas with Matt and Nick to film a video for Sam and Colby's channel at the Driskill Hotel. The reader is very sensitive to the supernatural and gets convinced to do the elevator ritual alone... What could possibly go wrong? ;)

Warnings: anxiety/panic attacks, ghostly encounters, fear of elevators, language, FLUFFFFF

A/N: I know this video is from awhile ago but I've had this idea and couldn't stop thinking about it. I started my page with imagines like this for Colby x reader and so I wanted to throw it back to my roots and make a Chris x reader (because I'm a die hard Chris girl)

Part 2??

You had been a fan of Sam and Colby for years, enjoying their content and being fascinated with their supernatural findings. There was always a part of you that was convinced you had a special connection with the supernatural, feeling extremely vulnerable and tethered to their world. Maybe it was due to your empathic nature, or maybe you were a undiscovered medium that hadn’t tapped into your powers.

You never tapped into your "abilities" because you were scared of what could possibly come from speaking to the dead. But when Nick, Matt, and Chris (and yourself) got asked to join in for an XPLR video on Sam and Colby's channel, you all knew that you couldn't pass it down. This is what led you all to Austin, Texas where the historic, haunted, Driskill Hotel was located.

The night had started somewhat normal, you all walked through the hotel with a tour guide where she explained the history of the building as well as the ghost inhabitants. Throughout the tour you would catch glimpses of shadow figures on the wall, hearing inaudible voices, and being extra sensitive to smells like cigar smoke and roses. The fear was definitely building inside of you when you observed that none of the rest of the group seemed to be experiencing the same things you were. You did your best to hold it together, knowing the triplets were excited to be included in the video, and not wanting to ruin your own experience of an inner fangirl being on an XPLR trip.

As the tour wrapped up and the night went on, Sam and Colby began to lead the investigation portion of their video. You stayed glued to Chris' side, feeling comfort in his presence, even with everything going on around you. Chris held an EMF reader in his left hand as his right hand was busy interlocking your fingers, running his thumb over your knuckles soothingly. He couldn't tell if you were nervous or if you were just trying to hone in on filming the video since you were all a guest to Sam and Colby's channel.

You and Chris stayed slightly behind the group as you made your way over to the elevators on the main lobby for the next part of the video, the elevator ritual. The elevators had already been acting up earlier in the night, not wanting to take you guys up to the floor you had requested. Elevators weren't necessarily your favorite inventions, a slight irrational fear of being stuck in one or one falling with you inside.

"Matt, the ghosts seem to really like you. Maybe you should be the one to do the ritual." You heard Sam say, observing how the EMF in Matt's hand continued to light up to red as they crossed through the grand lobby. As you passed by the receptionist desk you saw the figure of a tall man dart across the wall, making you subconsciously squeeze Chris' hand out of fright. "What's up baby? You okay?" Chris asked softly, pausing in his tracks to check up on you.

"Did you see that?" You asked him back, hoping that maybe you weren't going as crazy as you thought you were. Chris furrowed his eyebrows, glancing around the rotunda, trying to see whatever it was you were talking about. "See what?"

You let out a shaky breath, your palms becoming clammy as all the supernatural sensitivity was beginning to catch up to you. The hand that was holding onto Chris' disconnected as you rubbed the sweat on your pants, "I keep seeing shadows on the walls..." Chris frowns at your reply, wrapping his arms over your shoulders and pulling you into a hug. His lips pressed a firm kiss on your forehead, "I won't let anything hurt you, I promise."

"Chris! Y/n! You guys coming?" Colby asked, staring at you two from down the hall where they had stopped in front of the elevators. "Yeah we're coming, sorry!" Chris responded, gently pulling away from the hug and instantly wrapping his hand back in yours. As you stood in front of the elevator doors Sam explained to the camera, and to all of you, what the elevator ritual would consist of.

"y/n, will you do the honors?" Sam questioned, pulling your out of your trance and causing your jaw to drop open. "Huh? What?" You stuttered, not registering what he had elected you to do for this ritual.

"Do you want to do the ritual?" He rephrased, looking at you with big, hopeful eyes. Your body tensed at the thought, not only did elevators terrify you, but you had already been experiencing paranormal things the whole night. "You don't have to if you don't want." Chris said, breaking the short silence that filled the room, knowing you were already on edge and trying to stand up for you in case you were wary about doing it. "Uh, yeah, I think I could do it... I would just need to write down the order of the floors." You said, uncertainty filling your voice.

"Awesome! I'll text it to you." Sam said, beginning to type up a message to send to your phone. A lump began to form in your throat as you awaited the notification being sent to you. Chris gently rubbed your lower back, doing his best to calm your anxiety without bringing too much attention to your state, understanding that you didn't like when others were aware of your intimate emotions. Your phone vibrated in your hand, looking down to see the message;

12:00AM

Sam: 4, 2, 6, 2, 10, 5, 1

"Okay it's exactly midnight, you have to start now." Colby said, pressing the up button and watching the elevator door open. You took the camera from him, not saying a word as you faced the elevator. You swallowed the lump in your throat, knowing there was no way you could back out of this now. Stepping into the elevator you instantly felt chills run up your spine.

"Now remember, when you get to the fifth floor a lady might join you. If she does then when you try to come back down to the lobby the elevator will actually go up to the tenth floor, that's how we will know it worked. If it comes back down to one then the lady didn't enter and the ritual failed." Sam said, reminding you and the audience how things were supposed to go.

Shakily, your finger made its way up to press the number four, officially beginning the ritual. The door slowly shut in front of you, keeping eye contact with Chris until you couldn't anymore. The elevator rose and the door opened, nobody was there. Floor two, nothing.

Sixth floor.

Second floor, again.

Tenth floor.

Then finally, the fifth floor. Your breath caught in your throat as the elevator door opened unusually slow, revealing an empty hallway. 'This is just a game', 'It's not real', you tried reminding yourself as your heart beat uncontrollably inside your chest. You waited for a couple seconds before pressing the button for the first floor, praying that this stupid ritual hadn't actually worked. The doors shut and the elevator began to descend back to the first floor, allowing you to let out a breath you didn't even realize you were holding. "I guess the ritual failed guys," You lightly giggled talking into the camera, feeling relief wash over your whole body.

"Woah!" You yelped, almost dropping the camera as the elevator slightly dropped, the lights inside flickering. The screen above the door signaling that you were on the third floor. Before you knew it the elevator came to a halt, stopping dead in its tracks on the third floor.

"What? Oh no, no, no, no, no..." You whispered, panic rising inside of you as you dropped the camera to the floor and made your way to the control panel. You smashed the button for the first floor over and over again, hoping the elevator would start to move again. Nothing was happening however, the buttons not even lighting up when you pressed them. You began to reach into your back pocket for your phone, pulling it out to call Chris.

The dial tone played as you dropped to the floor in a seated position, legs shaking beneath you. After three rings Chris' voice filled your left ear, "Hey babe, why did you stop on the third floor? We were waiting for you to come back down-" He said quickly before you cut him off.

"Chris! The elevator is stuck! I don't know what to do, I'm freaking the fuck out!" Your breath became labored as you heaved in and out, feeling like no matter how much air you inhaled it wasn't reaching your lungs correctly. "Woah, woah. Okay, calm down please! Just breath alright? Listen to my breathing!" Chris instructed, knowing you were on the verge of a panic attack.

He let out slow, steady breaths of air while your vision began to blur with tears. Your head started to heat up and your ears began to ring, "I-I can't Chris... I can't breathe!" You huffed, clenching your hand over your aching heart.

"The elevators stuck, somebody go try and find someone to help!" You faintly heard Chris yell to the other boys, holding the phone away from his ear so it wasn't directed to you. "Yes you can, I believe in you babe. Nick is going to get some help, okay? Just hang in there." He continued to comfort you through the phone, coaching your breath back to normal as Nick found an employee. After five minutes, which felt like an eternity to you, the elevator doors where being pried open. The elevator had stopped just barely off center to the second floor, making the door inoperable on your side.

When the doors were finally opened you couldn't help but let the tears you had been containing fall, all the overwhelming fear catching up to your eyes. The employee held out a hand for you as you jumped the three foot distance onto the second floor lobby, landing slightly unsteady as the tears blurred your vision. Chris rushed over to you, faster than you had ever seen him move before, pulling you deep into his embrace.

"There, there, I got you. I got you, don't worry." He said, running his big hand through your hair. Your arms wrapped tightly around his torso, scared that he might disappear if you didn't hold him close. Tears stained his jacket sleeve as you buried your head into his shoulder. You both stayed like that for awhile, the others watching as you crumbled into Chris' arms.

Once you had finally cooled down, you all sat on some couches that were in the main lobby. You drank some water that Nick had brought for you as you stayed by Chris' side, his arm wrapped over your shoulders. "Y/n, I am so so sorry that the elevator got stuck. I had no idea that was going to happen and I feel horrible. I didn't realize you were scared of elevators." Sam apologized to you, feeling guilty that he had put you in this position in the first place.

"Sam, it's not your fault! How would you have known the elevator was going to get stuck?" You said sincerely, appreciating his apology even though he had nothing to do with the unfortunate situation.

"If you guys need to call it a night and go back to your hotel, we completely understand." Colby said, offering to end the night where it was instead of finishing out the investigation. "No, it's okay. I'm good now, really. There's no need to scrap the rest of the video just because of me." You reassured, wanting the boys to finish the video they had put so much effort into already.

"Are you sure?" Chris asked you.

"Yes, I'm sure. Now who's ready for the Estes Method?"

#chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #colby brock #chris sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #sam golbach #sam and colby #colby brock x reader #colby brock imagines #xplr

[obeymematches]

Hi! How about hc of mc getting pursued by another demon to be with them instead since the demon brothers ignores them and doesn't treat them that well connected to their avatar (like how belphie ignores you 24/7 for sleep) I just wanna see possessive demon brothers please! 🥺

ahhh i remember the guy who i was _just_ talking to on tinder say i needed to have his name painted on my nails... what a funny guy he was

also i'm having this in several parts, it's gonna be that long.

Possessive.

Prolouge;

You supposed you and him had a special chemistry between the two of you. It is hard to describe what it was like but you felt it everytime you looked into his eyes, heard their voice, felt their touch. To your best knowledge the feeling was mutual, he did ask you out on a couple of dates. Until he stopped texting you (if you texted him he didn’t even open your messages) and sometimes you didn’t even see him for a day or two despite living in the same house. You didn’t want to make the situation more awkward than it already was , so from your point of view you made the most realistic decision. Catching another fish from the sea seem like a great idea.

Lucifer: He saw you from a distance as you were having a chat with Lord Diavolo himself. At the time he preferred not to think much of it. Not that the idea of you falling madly in love with the prince didn’t cross his mind; of course he did consider that a possibility. He knows Diavolo the best and he also knows he’d adore you if he got a chance to. The next day you and Diavolo walk by, completely unnoticing him. He didn’t eavesdrop; what would be the point of that? But he, or to be more specific, this side of the RAD building could hear Diavolo joking about and laughing with you. It was most unusual! Especially in public like this, Diavolo would normally keep it lowkey, it would be too risky to let anyone know he enjoys your company.

That’s when The Avatar of Pride had the idea to check the message you sent him ….. almost 3 weeks ago.

Was telling you he was busy be good enough? Would you buy that? Most likely not. It was a shame he let the situation escalate like this, however it’s been decades or maybe even a century since he felt chemistry with anyone the way he did with you. Of course he can’t tell you like it is, otherwise he wouldn’t be the Avatar if Pride but the Avatar of Bluntness.

As much as it hurt his ego to admit it, he did grow fond of you.

„Meet me in my office, 3PM today.”

As you read his message your little human heart almost skipped a beat. It’s going to be awkward assisting him after you started growing feelings for him, feelings which he pretty clearly never reciprocated. You don’t really feel like meeting him, quite honestly.

So you didn’t meet him. He could call you if it was so urgent anyway.

The next day he made sure to run into you when you weren’t in the company of his friend.

„We must talk. Are you free now?”

„I am, for now. I have a class in 20 minutes.”

„I am sorry I did not talk to you about it sooner. Our last date was everything I could ask for. It would be a shame if you were seeing anyone else now. Are you free this afternoon?”

„Oh…um…how should I put this… if you really enjoyed it that much how come you were avoiding me for weeks?”

„I will tell you everything later. I promise.”

• It is up to you to accept or decline him now, however his possessivenes will get the best of him in the following days. He’ll be waiting for you after classes just to talk to you. Sometimes he even gives you a rose. Why is he being so desperate now? Thankfully his pride doesn’t allow him to talk to Diavolo about the situation.

Mammon:

There you are, in his favourite pub, playing pool with two attractive demons plus a duo who appears to be a couple. He knows you can’t play pool very well; it was most definitely not your idea to come here and play. Then who’s? Are you on a date? That cannot be happening.

Yes, he stopped spending time with you but it hasn’t been that long, has it??

He checked your message which you sent about 4 days ago. Surely not much time has passed since!

He ordered himself AND YOU a drink and didn’t hesitate to go up to you.

„Heyy, watcha up to? This ones for ya.”

„Thanks Mammon-„

„So who’re ya here with?”

„I’m with my friend” you look at one of the members of the couple.

„And who’re these losers? Lemme join ya!” he said as he put his arm around your waist.

„Well actually we don’t know them. They were just here, playing.”

The night went by, Mammon did provide you support in the game, although he is not much of a pro himself either. He did his best.

„Sorry I didn’t text ya. I was hustlin at Hell’s Kitchen ya know, givin me sweet money for working nightshift.”

You didn’t really reply as it was still a bit hard to believe him.

„And I also got me a second hustle for the day. I needa get more money! I wanna take ya on some nice ass dates, not a stupid coffe from the machine again.”

• Even if you tell him so he won’t leave you alone for the night. • Which is nice as the unknown demons left already! Now you are for sure for him only!

Part 1.

Tumblr is out there making me fight for my life as I'm trying to edit this post

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me mammon #obey me! #swd obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me lucifer #obey me luci x reader #obey me luficer #obey me x reader #obey me x mc #obey me x you #obey me imagine #obey me x gender neutral reader

[piosplayhouse]

I don't know if you'll answer but I need to know the lore behind sexy times with Wangxian, like is it a fanfic? why do people hate the author??

It was the longest mdzs fic posted during its time in 2021 and gained extreme notoriety for its absurdly long tag list, frequent update schedule that consistently forced anyone scrolling any of its tags to see it at the top of their page, and escalating poor, racist, and trolling authorial behavior that ultimately culminated in the author virtual1979 being suspended from ao3 for a month because she posting an author's note saying she hoped that all her haters would contract covid and die. She deleted the fic from ao3 a little while after this happened, ig bc she wasn't getting enough attention anymore, but allegedly the thing's still up on dreamwidth under strict friendslock. The fan lore article goes pretty in depth about it:

The best summary for why it pissed people off so much is really just showing you these screenshots of what the fic looked like towards the end of its life on desktop and mobile (be warned opening the full image):

From my personal experience:

from 2019 up until around 2021 the fic really was just a normal-ish, if very strangely written and kinky, wangxian porn fic about them basically just fucking around post canon and enjoying day to day life. It updated pretty frequently and had a fair amount of tags because the author was literally just tagging anything that she wrote. But like the first few hundred, maybe even a thousand tags were pretty accurate to what the fic was because of that, and were relatively manageable for the first few years that it didn't pick up any attention really.

At some point in 2021 when cql was really starting to blow up online and the tag count was starting to pile up to the point of annoyance, the fic started receiving some comments that were just like "hey can you try to cut down on tags, I don't think it's necessary to be so specific as to tag 'Korean food' or 'eggs' or whatnot". The author did not share this idea, evidently, and instead built a grudge against commenters who would tell her to delete tags, subsequently adding more and more as time went on.

As the tag count and updates increased, the content of the fic did too-- it got a lot, lot weirder. I'm sure someone's saved it all somewhere but for reference it spun out into what I can only describe as like if Rick and Morty's plot was cut to be just the parts of the show with underage/incest plotlines with All Tomorrows level sex dystopian world building exclusively to elicit the most visceral audience reaction possible. Around this time is when more people started to notice the fic and its escalating tag issues, leading them to leaving more comments complaining about it, leading to the attention seeking author spitefully adding more tags. Around this time is when she also started adding fake tags that didn't apply to the story whatsoever (sorry to disappoint, "talking vagina" was one of those. I did check) just to boost the count, take up more space on people's screens, and bait people into commenting hate for attention.

By this time, it had become a fandom-wide annoyance as she had begun to tag entirely unrelated ships, therefore putting the near-daily updating titanic of a fic at the top of any mdzs-related tag. People were outraged about this, and calls came for ao3 to step in. Ao3 waffled around for a bit as there was no official rule at the time that imposed a tag limit, so there wasn't established ground to ban virtual1979 (who btw many people suspected of being 40 whole years old due to the username and allegedly some other internet sleuthing on Facebook or something). Meanwhile, she began to tag other fandoms-- tgcf, svsss, BTS, basically anything that would get a lot of attention and draw hate with the advent of The Monstrosity suddenly drowning out all other recently updated fics of the targeted fandoms.

People had been trying to retaliate without ao3 action, though, by coding their own themes/skins that would allow someone to block a user or work and other fic writers made their own parody, the "bland times with wangxian" collection, which were minimally tagged sfw shortfics typically featuring wangxian just doing laundry or things like that. A good amount of them were actually like just fics where wwx would explain to lwj how to install custom ao3 themes and block fics that were taking up too much space on his screen. Imo it was pretty funny, but these also sparked some controversy as people disagreed with fighting annoyance with more annoyance to people trying to find content.

Either shortly before or after ao3 staff said they'd step in due to an insane amount of reports and backlash, I forgot which atp, virtual1979 began perhaps the worst tagging spree of the fic's life by changing the title, many of the tags, and the summary to a slew of racial slurs, sexually explicit imagery, and other generally offensive statements. I'm pretty sure this came after the fic was temporarily hidden once, as this update gained considerably less attention than the rest of the tagging saga, but people were still rightfully pissed about it. Ultimately, like I mentioned before, the author was then suspended for a month for wishing covid and death on her haters, and attention seemed to die down during this time to the point where she didn't really fight much more when her suspension ended and deleted her account and the work shortly after. Again she seems to have moved to dreamwidth, but most have forgotten her and I'm not sure if her presence is public at all on there. But that's the story of the worst mdzs fic ever written

[forsworned]

That Keegan post you made had me clutching my PEARLS! Your use of words was so masterfully done! I really loved the new vocab I learned while reading your work.

Your depiction of the relationship was also so so nice. Very loving and attentive and just so sweet. I could tell they loved one another and had already established boundaries that they knew they shouldn’t cross. The ending was lovely as well, a great way to tie things up.

Thank you for writing it! I’m excited to see what else your lovely brain comes up with!

-🧢

Whispers in the Woods: A Stranger's Shelter ft. OfftheGridCowboy!Keegan Russ

Sypnosis: When Keegan finds you petrified, running for your life from creatures unknown to you in the Haunted Appalachia trails after sundown, he takes you in for the night. Things get a bit crazy...

Warning(s): Mentions of Sexual Content, Violence, Petnames (?), Blood, Supernatural Horror (?), Eventual Smut, Barely Proofread, Reader is 28 and Keegan is 30, Reader is also AFAB

Word Count: 7.5k (enjoy keegan lovers ;)

Author's note: Blue cap anon thank you so much for inspiring me to write for Keegan. Honestly, I really love how this fic turned out and I hope you do too. I am so sorry I took so long to reply to you but you seriously warmed my heart so sosososo much when I read your message. I did not mean to put you on the back burner for this long/ Just know I have put so much effort into this to provide you a solid work so I hope that is a good enough excuse to have such a delayed response. Also so glad that you learned some new words LOL that really tickles me tbh, but I want to work more with the relationship that reader builds with Keegan in general or with any character x reader I write. So please enjoy this :)

edit: i think it's lowkey not living up to my expectations but ummm fuck it we ball

Sparks fly as the firewood in the pit crackles, casting an orange ember over you and the stranger sitting in front of you. His eyes, reminiscent of the cool, blueness of winter are lingering on you, and his heavy, leather jacket drapes over your shoulders to shield you from the chilliness of the early April evening. With his black cowboy hat slightly tilted upward, you note the black bandana covering most of his face, adding an air of mystery to his appearance.

"You really shouldn't be out here." His voice edges a precarious tone, though you cannot determine if it's toward you or whatever lurks in the abysmal woods. Maybe it was both. Your fingers curl around the distressed tanned hide, fiddling with the stitching of the material. A shudder careens through the columns of your spine, goosebumps trail over your skin, and the fuzz across your neck rises briefly.

"Don't look. Don't even acknowledge it." He instructs, steadying his gaze on you as he tinkers with the butterfly knife in his gloved hand. "W-what?" You gasp out, eyes reaming as your quivering vision sets on the embers of the pyre. A sinister presence harks over your convulsing body, heart palpitating out of your tightening sternum. But as soon as it arrives it departs and you're left heaving for the oxygen that was stripped from your lungs.

"I'm not gonna ask you again, what are you doin' walkin' around aimlessly in these mountains?" He repeatedly latches and unlatches the metal object in his hands, his gaze fixates on you. Truthfully, you were lost. When the engine of the old Dodge that you inherited from your grandfather abruptly cut out as you passed through a dead zone, it was all hauling ass from there on out. Classic damsel in distress situation.

Your father and he had both warned you about the Appalachian mountains. How apex predators inhabited the woods, preying on the innocent, ripping flesh apart on sight, or disappearing into the ghastly woods to never return. But, of course, you wrote it off as fearmongering. Never had you experienced the soul-crushing, harrowing existence of unidentified, cryptids lurking within the lacunas of the evergreens.

"My truck it—" You start to say, but the sound of him exhaling loudly cuts you off and you glance up at him with misery strewn across your features. Doe-eyes glimmering from the wetness that was welling in your oculars as your lips tremble. He outstretches his arm to the lantern on the perched log, "I've heard enough."

He begins to get up, extinguishing the flame, smothering it with what seemed to be a bag of salt and you felt fear creeping back into your system.

"Come on." As the pyre's embers fade, the lantern's switch emits a squeak, coaxing the oil flame to life, while the blood-curdling shrieks send shivers down your spine, ringing in your ears. And as if on cue, you cling to his side and he lets out a soft huff, feeling your arm coil around his.

The inferno acts as a bulwark from whatever is skulking around the both of you in the obscurity of the night as you move through the forest. You catch glimpses of shadows trekking about, seemingly running away from you now. A stark contrast from the previous frantic sprint through the woods in your petite, white frilly prairie dress that was now tattered at the edges and puffy sleeves. Now, you were safe. At least you certainly hope so.

A tiny light enters your line of sight in the distance, and you can only assume that that is his home. But you were still heeding the noises and images being molded in front of human eyes. It was as if the veil was lifted here, a supernatural existence in the vast mountains and woods of the Appalachia. You don't know whether to be terrified or fascinated, but you keep quiet as he silently leads you down the desire path to his home that is etching itself a little more into the horizon.

Approaching the home, you begin to notice the clandestine features of the house. A zephyr sweeps past you and the distinct smell of lavender and sage gently brims into your senses. You visibly shudder as the steps creak under your weight, your arm remains tucked into his own as he fishes out his keys and unlocks the door. Like a gentleman, he gestures to allow you in first and he follows closely behind, shutting it behind him.

"Shoes off at the door." He directs, treading past you as he tosses another piece of firewood into the lit fireplace.

What the fuck?

Is he just not going to acknowledge the paranormal manifestation that incurred upon them just now? The shadows of unearthly skinwalkers who infest the woods, who are prowling out there now as they barricade themselves from the outside? What is stopping them from forcefully intruding into his home?

You finally catch your breath for a moment, still feeling your heart hammering against your chest before you speak. "Are we not going to talk about what we just saw?"

"Nope." He simply replies, from another room and you blink back in surprise. Then it sinks in.

Of course, how could you forget? How can you forget the rules of the Appalachia, that were engrained into you as a child?

If you see something strange in the wilderness, no, you didn't.

If you hear something call your name, no, you didn't.

If you hear screaming in the Appalachian mountains, especially a woman's scream, no, you didn't. 

If you feel something stalking you, do not run.

Never, ever, whistle at night. 

Never go into the woods at night.

Never leave your windows open at night, even in the summer and honestly, the list dragged on and on and on.

Most of it falls on deaf ears never believing in the legends, and yet, here you are shaken up by things you never thought existed in a stranger's home who found it in his heart to shelter you until what you suppose would be dawn.

A wavering breath escapes you as you take a long gander at the well-maintained colonial home. The timeless and heirloom quality of the home becomes evident upon analyzing the vast array of paintings and framed photographs adorning the walls, each depicting individuals with strikingly similar features—dark brows, thick lashes, and mesmerizing steely blue eyes that seemed to penetrate your soul. You can't quite make out the framed artwork through your muzzy vision, but it's eerie the way you can't quite pinpoint why the face was so recognizable to you.

Exposed wooden ceiling beams motion your eyes to the inherited items and the mounted deer skull above the hearth. The warmth emanating from it felt different, soothing, lulling your quivery limbs. You oblige and kick off your boots, padding behind him as he draws out his gun from his holster and places it on the mahogany table. He removes his cowboy hat, hanging it on the horseshoe hat rack adjacent to the fireplace revealing his tousled short black locks. As he begins to unmask himself, a small gasp leaves your lips, fixating on his newly exposed features. And he was goddamn handsome and unusually reminiscent of someone from your childhood embarked into the backlogs of your memory, but of course, you brush it off.

And although he hears it, he does not acknowledge it as one hand grips the wooden chair and the other runs over his dark stubble. He's pensive. The last thing he needed was some heretic woman living under his roof for Lord knows how long. At this point, he decides that you are his responsibility and he cannot shirk from that for that would be unbecoming of a man like himself and he was raised better than that.

He glances up at the painting of his father above the hearth and you take note of the reflective state. His daddy was the embodiment of a Cowboy. Gentlemanly, charming, nifty, and always genial, providing the best hospitality a person could provide. No way, he'd accept Keegan kicking you to the curb, leaving you out for those creatures to rip you apart. Plus, his father would simply rise from his grave and kick his ass.

"You hungry?" He pays no mind to your lingering, bewitched eyes as he moves to the kitchen and you like a lost puppy trailing behind him. "Got some leftover potato leek soup."

And as if on cue, your stomach growls and he glances at your hand over your tummy. You flush from the embarrassment of your stomach being that raucous. He cocks a brow at you and you can't tell if he's amused or annoyed. Probably both. "Go sit." He points his chin to the table by the fireplace and you pad back to the living room, the tempering sensation of the flames causes you to become drowsy. You loll your head to analyze his stature. His figure towers over all of the antique appliances in the kitchen, muscles flexing as he prepares to reheat the soup on the stove. Rolling up his sleeves to reveal his taut, tanned forearms to open the cabinet and pull out the loaf of handmade sourdough, slicing it evenly and efficiently before tossing it in the toaster.

His form becomes a bit hazy as you lay your head against the top rail of the chair, mesmerized by the allure of his broadened shoulders, and soft pink lips that all by hide the peeking tongue indicating his concentration in preparing you a homecooked meal. Keegan never has guests over, in fact, no one is ever daft enough to come running around this way anyways because locals know better and tourists are too scared shitless to even enter this part of the Appalachia. He likes it like that, away from everything and everyone, being able to maintain his family's ranch that was inherited by him at the ripening age of 18.

His mother moved out to the suburbs because the death of his father was far too devasting on her already weary soul to continue living her days out on the farm. But Keegan doesn't mind it. He handles the livestock with ease, providing care to the birthing cattle, and maintaining the operations of the facilities as a whole to keep his honest living thriving. It's all in a good day's work for him. So caring after you shouldn't be too much of a hassle right?

You're suddenly awoken to the soft clatter of the bowl being set on the wooden table, the savory aroma of potato leek soup, and freshly toasted sourdough bread. He sets a glass of water beside you before he pulls his seat adjacent to you with his food.

"Eat." He orders, waiting for you to take a spoonful of thick soup. You hesitantly lift the spoon before glancing up at him. He blinks back at you, realizing the weight of his indiscretion, and whisks the soup with his spoon before noshing on it as if to tell you that is not poisoned nor drugged. Your other hand takes the bread in between your fingers and he mirrors your actions, claiming a bite from his own and you visibly relax.

The soup is scalding to the touch, but you welcome the sensation when you get a taste of the heavenly whipped soup. Not a single lump, just the smoothest, most savory supping of such a simple hearty soup instantly heartening your disconcerting body right down to your unsteady hand.

"I'll fix your truck as soon as dawn breaks." He flashes a glance before breaking his bread and scooping it into his soup. "Make yourself comfortable in the guest bedroom." He gestures with his hand to the upstairs.

"Oh, I couldn't—" You begin to say, but he will have none of it.

"You're not going out there until the sun's out." He replies simply, as he lifts his glass of water and sips from it. You observe the way his Adam's apple oscillates under his stubbly throat and you swallow thickly when you realize he's gazing at you keenly.

Warmth spreads to your cheeks and your eyes are now following the pattern of the wood grain. "That's…very kind of you."

"'s just the human thing to do." And there is an emphasis on the word 'human'.

You begin to play with your soup, scooping it up and letting it fall back into the bowl. "Right." Your voice is soft as you try to block out the memory just moments ago.

He narrows his eyes as if to study you. "What's your name?"

You glance up at him, and you're almost a bit hesitant to tell him. You almost want to lie, but you decide otherwise. "[Name], and yours?"

"Keegan."

"Keegan what?" You press. He raises a brow at you as he chews on his bread.

"Russ."

Russ. An esteemed surname that was echoed throughout your household during your adolescence. Presley Russ was a handsome and genial man who appeared at your father's porch steps every so often, tipping his hat at you with that charming smile and those glacial hues that made your heart jump. He'd invite your daddy out for nights at the rodeo or sipping on Highland Gaelic Ales on the porch from the afternoon til midnight, biding his time between Maryland and North Carolina.

You never quite caught glimpses of his son when you were living out on the ranch before you moved out for college, but you did remember a time when you ventured out past sunset in the abandoned village in the Black Hills you knew better than to be in when your daddy had to travel to Wheaton for the grand opening of his old buddy, Presley's restaurant accompanied by his reclusive son who you never remembered the name of. But for God's sake, who was stupid enough to go treading alone around the same location as the filming of the Blair Witch Project?

But you were a skeptic at best until you heard the unrelenting repetition of your name being called which led you astray, causing you to stumble over your own feet and ultimately collide with a rock that rendered you unconscious. Soon enough, you felt yourself being carried back to your home in the arms of the Russ boy with the hardened steely gaze that intently stared down at the knot forming on your forehead. You had never shut your eyes so quickly and the sound of his soft chuckle, caused you to be even more embarrassed as you were being handed off to your worried parents who were more than relieved and thankful to have retrieved you.

Of course, you had to act like you were unconscious. It was already humiliating enough that you were old enough to know better, but being ferried by a cute boy like you were some helpless damsel in distress was just mortifying.

But that was long forgotten by you in hazy summer days during your teen years before you went off to college and moved out into the city. In reality, you had written it off as a dream, a hallucination concocted by that vivid and graphic imagination of yours. That was always the case with you and the Appalachia. Always the non-believer.

But part of you was hoping that maybe he didn't recognize you after all this time, and yet the way he is staring you down is beginning to feel like otherwise.

"Blair." He suddenly says matter-of-factly as he taps his finger at the table and nods again. "Blair." A small toothy grin creeps on his lips before he chuckles.

Your eyes reaming as your heart drops to your stomach. "What?"

"Black Hills, you're the daughter of the farmer right up in Garrett County."

You feel the warmth blooming on your cheeks. He knew. "I—How do you remember that?"

"Knew you looked familiar." He dives back into his steaming soup. "Was tryin' to figure out where I'd seen that necklace of yours." He juts his chin, pointing to the family heirloom that kisses your clavicle. It had been passed down for generations to the women in your family as a symbol of health, wisdom and longetivity. You feel for the 20k gold pendant with lilac and sage engraved into the soft metal.

He looks as if he's stifling another snicker. "Think you pissed yourself a little when I found you unconscious."

Now that gets you real flared up. The abrupt change in mood was beginning to wrack your nerves. You sigh knowing that at the very least you were in good hands. Familiarity begins to set in as he breaks the ice, creating a more comfortable atmosphere between you two.

"I did not!" You puff your cheeks out at him and he's tickled pink by your endearing, agitated reactions.

His gleeful grin only grows to his eyes. "Now, who willing goes into the woods by themselves when they know damn well what kind of activity breeds over there, hm? Gotta death wish if you ask me, kid."

You open your mouth to say something, but it clamps shut. You don't know whether to be abashed by the way his face lights up like the stars in the heavens above, or by the fact that he remembers that you pissed yourself a little through your favorite pair of khaki parachute shorts in a known marked area where people have gone missing. The stark realization of it being a tangible memory was mussing at your trepidation towards him. But he's teasing you now and it stirs a strange kind of desire in your lower belly as you uncomfortably shift in your creaky wooden seat.

Pushing your bowl away, you avoid responding by guzzling down your water and then calmly placing it back down.

"I'd like to get ready for bed now, if you don't mind."

He jovially raises his eyebrows as he munches on the last of his bread. The smirk still curled up on the corners of his pinkened lips.

He wipes the crumbs off his hands and thumbs either side of his mouth before he gets up, gesturing to you. " 'Course not."

You stand up and politely push your chair in as you track behind him up the croaking staircase. Your body is practically heaving with every step and by the top of it, you're feeling a bit winded. Keegan decides to keep his comments to himself as he ushers you down the grandiose hallway. The walls are painted ivory, and wall sconces are tapered candles on held-up aged tin nailed into the parapet. Hardwood floors are well kept, but the small divots in between the grain quickly reveal the age.

He jingles the knob to what you suppose is the guest bedroom, but it seems to be locked. His fingers fish into his pocket and you watch as he phalanges through the set and then finally picks out the antiquated rusty skeleton key. It's honestly a bit jarring that it requires a key to fasten the door, but at this point, if you're being kept away from the monsters lurking outside you'd be happy to be his little prisoner for now.

He pushes the door and it moans open, though much to your surprise it's polished and orderly. In the middle of the room is a wooden four-poster queen-sized bed, with a princess-like sheer white canopy that surreptitiously envelops the bed. The furniture is a bit more romantic with detailed carved patterns on the bookshelves that line up against the wall to the vanity that sat adjacent to the bed. The carmine curtains that drape over the large window, easily maneuver you to the balcony, and the soft calling of your name beckons you to open it…

A sturdy hand clasps over your shoulder and you jolt as you turn to him. He's shaking his head as he towers over you and you look so goddamn feeble with those damn bambi eyes of yours shimmering in the tiny sliver of moonlight that peeks out from the window. He tears his gaze away to tread over to the window, squeezing it shut with the velcro he sewed into the fabric and reinforces the window shut.

A sharp exhale leaves his nostrils and his eyes are on you again. "I totally can see why you ended up the way you did." He glimpses over your dirtied and frayed dress, skinned, bloodstained knees, and contusions running up and down your legs. God, he makes it so easy to feel self-conscious.

He licks his lips as he hovers his hand over the knob to his right, and signals you over. You begrudgingly stride over and you're just as impressed at the bathroom. From the massive mirror above the traditional wooden undermount double sink vanity to the wine-red clawfoot freestanding bathtub. Little golden trinkets pinstripe the rosy walls with the soft warm lighting of the hanging flowery ceiling light fixtures. You squint your eyes when he adjusts the radiance to a white glow with the dimmer light switch before he opens the drawers one by one.

"Towels, robes, spare clothes, toiletries. Gimme a shout if you need anything else."

You open your mouth to say something and his eyes playfully narrow at you. "—within reason, missy."

Your bottom lip reflexively juts out. You hate to admit it, but you were quite the spoiled child. Never receiving more than a gentle chide from your parents and always silver-spooned to the nines by your grandparents. The truck was an exception. More of a parting gift from your grandfather that was left to you for the sole purpose of memorabilia scored into every inch of the tarnished vehicle. You hope that Keegan is capable of fixing it since most parts were made by discontinued distributors and they were definitely not easy to come by as they were expensive.

"Christ, spoiled rotten, weren't ya?" He ribs, nudging you a bit and you frown at him.

"Was not." You childlessly retort, but the small smile on your face betrays your feeble attempt at contempt.

Fuck, she is so cute. Keegan thinks as he assimilates your hilly yet winsome appearance. Just as cute as he remembers when he was seventeen, ignorant of the malignancy that poisoned his father's lungs.

"Not as much as your daddy spoiled you." You shoot back and cover your mouth with your hands as his brows lift in half surprise and half revelry.

"Blair's got jokes now, huh?" The elicitive nickname indicative of your former years sends another rushing warmth to your face and you begin to shoo him out.

"I'd really like to be clean now, thank you." You cast a scowl his way and he's putting his hands up in surrender as he backs out of the bathroom followed by the bedroom.

"I take it that the lady needs her privacy now." He leans against the doorframe with his hands stuffed into his denim jean pockets that are dusty and darkened with wood ash and the smell of the campfire lingers on his skin.

"And her beauty sleep." You add on, folding your arms. His jacket is still resting over your shoulders and he chuckles at your Hello Kitty print socks. The way your hair was mussed up in the soft glow of the lantern lamp on the night table was starting to arouse him a bit.

Fuckkkkkk, you were so adorable. It might have taken every atom in his body not to bend you over the mattress and spank you for being such a dotty woman before pressing his cock past your velvety folds as he makes you apologize in the form of incoherent, dirty little whimpers.

But the thought is quickly dismissed as it's formed in the sullied cogitations of his mind.

"Good night, [name]." He murmurs in his husky voice yet there is a hint of mischief in his tone that sends a frisson up your spinal column.

"Good night, Keegan." You susurrate, as you slowly shut the door and his expression remains the same as your view of him narrows until it disappears behind the threshold.

"Christ." You mutter to yourself as you begin to get ready for bed, as you feel the rush of collywobbles in your stomach start to well up a craving for the cowboy. The time on your cracked phone screen reads 2:03 AM and a wave of exhaustion crashes over you at the realization. Had you really been out there for seven hours?

The warm water soothes your aching bones and forming scabs scattered across your body as you gently exfoliate your skin. Thankfully, Keegan had enough sense to drop off a first aid kit by your door before you slipped into the bath. You weren't looking forward to the sting of the antiseptic, but you were more than grateful to be alive and have all your limbs attached. As you close your eyes and let the sudsy bath take away your worries, a coaxing voice is entrancing you. At first, it begins as a hushed lull intermingled with what sounds like your name and a bit of white noise that makes your brain all fuzzy and warm, but it becomes audible. Forming coherent luring words that resemble Keegan's deep, raspy voice.

Drown, drown, drown.

And you promptly find yourself submerging into the tub and the stillness of the water is subduing, but something is instigating you to open your eyes. You push away the thought, taking in the tranquility, settling into the comforting sensation of weightlessness. And yet, the feeling is not leaving you. You internally sigh as you move your body to the surface, but you remain dormant. Your eyes shoot open and your blood runs cold.

Above is one of the most fear-inducing creatures that you have ever laid your eyes upon holding you down on either side of your shoulders with slender claws digging into your flesh. It resembles a caribou skull with elongated antlers but its eyes were a violent vermillion that penetrates your soul. Its body was dark, rickety, and harrowing. Bones astute against the matted onyx fur and its tongue hanging out of his jaw like it was ready to devour you. Panic surges through your veins as you thrash about but it drives its talons further into your skin and you shriek out in pain. Water enters your lungs, your heart is stammering at cardiac arrest speed and you're choking out for dear life. This is it. This is how you die and the worst part about it is, you couldn't even call out for hope from the man who saved you just moments ago.

But just as you're accepting your fate, the muffled sound of a gunshot pierces through the air and within seconds the skinwalker is incapacitated and then dead. Soon enough, you're being hoisted out by Keegan's strong hands, as you cling onto him naked, wet, and heaving for oxygen.

Water expels out from your esophagus and you're trembling even harder than you were before when he found you, grasping to him and he's immediately talking you down.

"It's alright, you're okay. You're okay." He soothes, one hand tenderly caressing your soddened hair and the other is gripping your body tight as he pulls you out of the tub. He wastes no time unplugging the drain and wrapping you in a large towel to cover your naked body. In all seriousness, Keegan didn't even take a second to gander at your naked form when he was gathering you out of the tub and he makes that clear that his sole objective was to eliminate the wendigo that trespassed into your sanctuary.

He could've sworn that he had locked up every single opening in the house as he does every single night. It was like clockwork to him ever since his father had shown him the ropes to the place.

"…Kee-keegan." You splutter out as you continue to clutch onto him and your body is saturating him with water. He doesn't care though, that was the least of his worries. Your eyes are reaming and glossy as you dare to peek down at the creature that was seconds away from letting you meet your maker, but there's nothing but ash on the tiled floor.

"It was—" You begin, peering up at his harking steely eyes and his jaw tightens.

"It's gone."

"I don't understand." You shake your head, trying to make sense of what just happened, but the soft clatter of the rifle hitting the bathroom counter delineates your scattered mind. "Oh. But—"

"Get dressed." He softly prompts and you shakily let go of his t-shirt and he hands you an eggshell-colored peignoir as he averts his gaze. He's cognizant of the post-distress and panic you're in, so makes no indication of reallocating himself away from you as you slip on the fabric nor does he provide an explanation for what just occurred.

And to be honest, you didn't want to know. There was nothing more disturbing than the encounter with death in the form of a mutated caribou that leaves you shaken up. Everything just seemed too difficult to wrap your little head around, so let him take care of you.

A fresh towel is on your head, soaking up the wetness tangled into your hair and you relax at his balmy touch.

"Thank you." You mutter as your eyes are cast downward, eyeing the imbued, darkened spots on his nightshirt.

He delicately hooks his index finger and thumb between your chin and lifts it upward as he dabs at your features with the towel. And then it lingers. His intense yet pensive gaze, his stout calloused thumb that is now brushing against your jaw shortly followed by your quivering bottom lip. His jaw ticks.

"I'll sleep in here tonight."

Your heart jumps rampantly against your chest. "What?"

"You almost died if it weren't for me."

"Yes, but it's not—!" You fall short of words yet again and you're tearing your gaze away from him. As dire as the situation was (and it was), Keegan cannot help himself from being just the tiniest bit entertained by your endearing little mannerisms.

"I'm not gonna sleep next to you in bed." He deadpans. Normally, he would let you stumble over your words, but exhaustion is seeping into his bones and even as a noceur himself he was in desperate need of some z's. "The armchair over there quite comfy."

You follow his eyes to the brown leather recliner that was beside the bed and then back to him.

"I'm tired, Keegan." You profess, leaning your head against his chest and he's absentmindedly rubbing circles into the small of your back.

"I know."

Typically, you wouldn't be this comfortable with a stranger but given the unusual circumstances that were currently trying to slaughter your ass, you found yourself seeking solace in him.

"Let's get you into bed."

And soon he's leading you back to the bedroom, his hand is still on the small of your back as you walk on wobbly legs. He peels off the comforter and you sink into the mattress feeling like royalty in your crisp, clean nightgown, in your large princess-like bed, surrounded by plush pillows as the light in the lantern flickers. It casts shadows over his dashing features. The flame turns his glacial eyes into a soft apricot and an expression flickers over his visage—concern.

He's harping over your safety and the intruder that happened to bypass his heavily guarded home. No tripped wires, no movement detected on his cameras, and not to mention not a single sound was made until he heard your thrashing in his room across the hall. If he hadn't been there in time—

"You saved me, though." You drone, shutting your eyes as you tuck yourself into the cotton sheets.

His hardened glare softens at your words and how you look at ease now. A testament to your full, unshakeable faith in him. God, you were so quick to trust, it honestly scared him a little for you.

He scoffs. "How can you be so sure that I wouldn't hurt you?"

"Because your father would resurrect and beat the absolute shit out of you if you even dared to think about harming me." You state with a sly smirk on your face.

Keegan's expression briefly falters before he lets out a snicker, acknowledging the truth in your bold proclamation. "Crafty little critter, aren't ya?"

You giggle as shift under the sheets. It's almost a bit disturbing how you are seemingly fine and brushing off the situation. "Maybe."

He peers down at you for a moment and the welcoming feeling of your radiance starts to crawl into his chest. Almost like you were right where you needed to be, in his home, in his bed under his safeguarding. He wants nothing more than that. It's almost a bit perturbing how you are seemingly fine.

"Go to sleep." You mumble.

"You go to sleep."

"No, you first,"

"Who else is going to shield you against creatures of the night?"

You pause for a moment. "Good point."

He smiles as he walks over to the armchair, gun propped up against his left leg as he sits to face you. You're already curling up in a ball, and your chest rises and falls at a tranquil pace.

"Good night, Blair." He feels his eyes drooping as his vision becomes bleary.

You chuckle at the idiotic nickname. "Good night, Cowboy."

The remnants of tiny, foolish smiles are left on your faces as you drift off to sleep in your respective spaces. The last passing thought that crosses your mind is Keegan's tender gaze and his fingers brushing against your lips. Keegan wonders what is making you so giddy before the world around him fades out.

As morning breaks, sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a gentle glow on the room. The spring breeze wafts into the wisps of your hair and your eyes flutter open. The seat in front of you is now empty and the balcony door is wide open, and yet you're calm as you rise out of bed. Birds are chirping and the incessant droning of cicadas buzzing loudly against your eardrums is merely white noise when you recognize the low rumble of your truck's engine pulling up. There is an urgency that surges within you and soon you're sprinting out the door, and the heat of the cobblestone stings at the soles of your feet but you don't care.

The engine cuts and Keegan climbs out of the truck, sleeves rolled up in his army green henley, and he's wearing a clean pair of relaxed, light-wash jeans that skim the leather of his Tecovas. He peers up at you with wintry hues, tipping his hat, and in that instant, you're transported back to your childhood—Mr. Russ, tipping his hat with those same eyes and that glorious smile that always made your heart race.

The resemblance was both striking and uncanny, but damn, you were totally not complaining.

"Mornin', little lady. You're up quite early." He puts his hands on his hips and he's no longer the stone-faced, vendetta-filled Cowboy that you met last night. He's your friendly Appalachian Cowboy who provides you the sweet, sweet southern hospitality with a charming smile and a bit of a North Carolinian twang that sets your groins on fire.

"Mornin', Cowboy. Fixed my truck, did you?" You lean against the French iron wrought railing with your ruffled hair and white nightgown, rippling in the slight draft that carries the healing scent of sage and lavender. The fabric forms around your body and Keegan notices how it traces the outline of your curves and how the sun is hitting you just perfect enough for you to look like a literal angel.

But it's still the unrelenting, disconcerting feeling that creeps up on him when he looks up at you so unbothered, airheaded with that buoyant grin on your face. Was it really just a facade?

"Fixed it good enough for you to get back on your way." He turns from you to the truck and then back to you. "By the way, where were you headed?"

"Back to the old man." You cross your leg over the other, waiting for his response. He watches as the skin of your legs peeks out from under the peignoir and it's a bit enticing.

"I didn't contact him if that's what you're askin'" His hand acts like a sun visor to block the light out of his sensitive eyes to take a good gander at you.

"I would hope not. Don't need to send him into cardiac arrest." You joke and you see his shoulders shaking a bit, suggesting a chuckle.

"Made you breakfast."

"Yeah?" You simper, leaning a little more against the railing.

He can't help the way his grin broadens as he peers up at your flirty form. "Careful now, can't have you comin' back home with a broken neck, can we?"

Shit. Shit. Shiiiiit.

Goddamn him and his pretty face. He's already heading inside as you're locking in on him, but Keegan isn't one to give you the satisfaction. He'll play the long game and he'll enjoy every minute of it. From the way you're sitting next to him at the table with your dress bunched up to your thighs to the way you sensually lick your spoon covered with cream and he's internally chuckling at the mess you've made on the corners of your lips, feigning gullibility to get a rise out of him. Admittedly, it's hot. He wants nothing more than to lick your fingers clean and sloppily kiss your sweet cream-laden lips.

Mmmm.

He doesn't say anything. Just enjoys his breakfast and keeps his gaze lowered like a gentleman. The company of a beautiful woman is enough for him on a fine Sunday morning like this.

You can only wonder what he's thinking as you act like a giddy schoolgirl who's trying to get the attention of her professor. Not that you had a significant age gap with Keegan, but in his original line of work there was a massive lapse. Being a retired Marine had probably mentally aged him over give or take 10 years would have been your best guess. And leaving the farm to his cousins in his absence probably impacted him even more, well, according to your gossip girl of a father at least.

He made trips down to NC every so often to check on his favorite, reclusive cowboy, sometimes tending to his facilities when need be. You never tagged along though. In your mind, you were a city girl who didn't mind dressing up as a cowgirl if she saw fit. So coming down from your city job, in the comfort of your sweet loft that overlooked the NOVA skyline didn't exactly make you miss the Appalachia trails.

Still, it is nice being back here with a somewhat familiar stranger in a home you had only seen the outside of because, for the majority of your life, you had so desperately tried to force out the rural in you. Call it toxic, but leaving the mountains always felt like the haze had lifted from your brain. It was unsettling to be here for too long.

"You're nervous."

You glance up from the runny eggs that you have been working on for the past twenty minutes. You give him a sheepish grin. "This place makes me nervous."

"Itching to go back to the city, huh?"

That elicits a small chuckle from you. "And what do you know about me?"

"Well, according to your father," He says in a knowing tone and you narrow your eyes at him as he gives you a coy smile. "you love the city too much to move back."

"I don't think I'm too good for it. Here, I mean."

"Didn't say that. The Appalachia isn't for everyone." He butters his toast and then munches on it and soon it vanishes into his mouth. The night before is washed away from your memory, but Keegan loses track of his thoughts as he stares at the leftover jagged lines embedded into your skin from a creature that he knew you wanted to forget. A glance at his watch and he's up, wiping his hands and mouth with the serviette that was on his lap before he places it on the table. "You ready?"

"You got somewhere to be?" You raise your brows, not quite ready to leave yet.

"Matter o'fact I gotta date with an employee from Tractor Supply Co in about an hour, and it's thirty minutes out."

"New livestock?" You sip at your coffee.

A sad smile graces his lips. "Yeah, my last eldest cattle just passed away a few weeks ago."

You frown. "I'm sorry."

For a moment you swear you saw him get teary-eyed, but he quickly shakes himself out of the grief, grabbing his keys as he downs his glass of ice water. He stops himself for a moment as you get up to push your chair in and he can't help himself from tracing his fingers over the claw marks on either side of your shoulders. You shudder from the remembrance and his touch.

"[name]," He starts to express but your mood sours.

"Stop."

His expression falters and so does his hand as he lets it drop to his side. You didn't want to remember any of it. He notices how you clutch onto your necklace and he drops the subject.

"Your trucks waiting." He takes your hand and deposits the keys into your palm.

You give him a tight-lipped smile. "Thank you."

You begin to approach your truck and you feel relief washing over you as you run your hand over the tarnished, rusted hood of the Dodge before you open the driver door. As you climb in you notice that all your belongings remain untouched. Scattered cassette tapes, polaroids, and the little Hawaiian girl that swayed with every movement still plastered onto the dash. The leather seats seem to have abrasions, revealing the cushion beneath, but you write it off as a bear maybe deciding to try and access your vehicle after you had abandoned it.

"…[name], ….[name]….!"

You're snapped out of your stupor, recollecting your thoughts as you glance over at him leaning his body against your truck. "I checked the vehicle, it's all clear for you to go. Should make it back alright."

"Why wouldn't it be if you fixed the engine?"

The look you give him is blank, free from concern and any worry that may have been left on your face from last night.

He nods, pushing his hands into his jean pockets. "Right, well, it was nice seeing you all grown up."

That provokes a reaction. Heat is rising to your cheeks and Keegan is standing there looking cool as ever as he takes off his hat and wipes the sweat off his brow before putting it back on.

"Thank you." You say with more feeling, only your eyes acknowledging the horrors of last night. And that's enough for Keegan.

"You take care now." He tips his hat with a good-natured grin and you snicker at his little cowboy bit.

He waves to you as you back out of his driveway and you glance over from your rearview mirror as his towering figure disappears and so does any anamnesis from the evening prior. Or at least, you told yourself that.

And that was April. Months have gone by and Keegan doesn't exactly expect you to keep in contact. He's even surprised to hear a, '[name], says hello, by the way.' from your father during their weekly check-in.

And he definitely does not expect to see your truck in his driveway when he's coming back from milking his cows for the day with his new set of eyes that's in dog form, wagging her tail in anticipation as she sits.

"German Shepherd, eh? Suits you." You simper at him, leaning against the pillar of his home with glossy lips, and a cutesy red paisley swing dress that just barely covers your thighs. Your boots are hardly broken in as they dig into the grassy field and your hair is a little disheveled in an endearing way.

"Name's Miley." He peels off his gloves, shoving them into his back pocket. He's completely taken aback by your sudden presence, though he's not one to complain about a pretty lady showing up at his door.

"Hey, Miley." You coo, holding your hand to her and she's immediately reciprocating your energy tenfold as she jumps up and down, causing you to giggle and pet her soft fur.

Keegan doesn't even need to say anything as he glances down at the German Shepherd and she's already sitting on the ground between you two.

"Miss me?" You ask, coyly.

"Could ask you the same thing, Blair." He tilts his head to the side, eyeing you suspiciously. Something was off.

"I was just in town."

"Uh huh."

It doesn't take long before the act drops and distress is carving into your features. Lips are trembling in fear as your eyes begin to water.

"Something's been following me, Keegan." Your body naturally falls against his chest and his breath hitches a bit at your contact and the smell of your perfume wafts into his senses.

Fuck.

mini taglist: @keegansshark @soapsgf @milkteaarttime

#call of duty #call of duty imagines #keegan p russ #keegan p russ x reader #keegan russ x reader #keegan russ smut #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #cod ghosts #call of duty ghosts #call of duty smut #keegan x reader #cod keegan #keegan russ #keegan smut #eventual smut #alternate universe #cod au

[camp-mithril-lake]

Transformers: One

POSITIVES

I genuinely enjoyed how Elita and Megaron sounded. In particularly Megatron.

I absolutely adored the background and detailing for how they built Cybertron. It looks gorgeous and I loved the glimpses of flora and fauna. I think at the very least it will be a beautiful movie and give new ideas for Cybertronian physical world building.

I do not entirely hate the designs and like some of them.

Feels very much that the core personalities come a bit from IDW for Orion and Megatron in particularly very young introverted Megatron pre-arrest and how Orion Pax was very outgoing extrovert. This is mainly neutral but I am liking the glimpses of their relationship. If this is the center of the emotional beats I am for it.

I am tentatively looking forward to having Elita as another main.

I am actually seeing quite a bit of lore.

NEUTRAL

I don't mind Chris Hemsworth as a young Orion, not my favorite, and his attempt at a more serious line did sound a little weak, but again as this as an origin not having the "Optimus Prime" voice yet could be a good bit of characterization.

NEGATIVES

I don't know about the humor, especially with playing up Bumblebee as comic relief. It felt very MCU, in the worst sort of way, though some of it wasn't bad or overdone. Like them figuring out their transformations.

I am concerned about how they are handling Bumblebee. I am hoping he isn't purely regulated to humor.

I am hoping it is not just wisecracks but actually a "good" (for Transformers) plot with appropriately heavy emotional highs and lows. If we only have the amount of humor that is in the trailer then the balance can be fine.

SPECULATION

Cybertronians seem to be regulated to underground and working their and from what I can see this is because the Quintessons are ruling up top. My guess, purely speculation, this is drawing from Aligned lore and the scene was the Quintesson removing the T-cog from a new Cybertronian before sending them underground.

Alpha Trion appears to be out and about up top, no doubt causing trouble like the original A3 origin, and is able to return Elita, Orion, Megatron, and Bumblebee's T-cogs. My guess is upon finding out the "truth" of what is happening the four mains start up a rebellion to free Cybertron.

From the glimpses of Megatron and Optimus my guess is it opens with the two of them during the war and then flashes back to "how they met".

My guess form the scenes is that Orion somehow got Megatron in trouble. I'm kind of suspecting an homage to the bar fight that ruins his life in IDW only Orion is taking Impactor's place.

Pretty sure their was a glimpse of Starscream on a throne. The Seekers likely either or already independent and have a fighting force or live up top as they work for the Quintessons in a different way. My guess is the Fearsome Foursome has to approach him to get an alliance. Likely Megatron will be the one that finalizes it as a hint towards his future as leader/SIC. Or that would be how I'd do it.

#tf one #transformers one

[itsmealaiah]

"take it away"

TW: p in v, head (reader rec), profanity, praise, pet name (good girl), reader being on her period, AFAB reader, she/her pronouns, kind of daddy kink if you squint

Req: CAN YOU PLEASEEEEEE MAKE A STORY WHERE Y/N IS ON HER PERIOD AND BILL HAS SEX WITH HER

Rating: mdni, mature themes ahead, mind the tags!

WC: 1k

As you lay in bed, the dull ache in your lower abdomen a constant reminder of your current state, you can't help but feel a mixture of discomfort and relief. Discomfort, of course, from the cramps and bloating that accompany your period. But relief too, as you've finally been able to take some time for yourself and rest. It's been a long couple of days, filled with back-to-back events and obligations, leaving you feeling frazzled and drained. And now, with the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a warm hue across the room, you can't help but feel a sense of comfort and safety curled up under the sheets.

You hear the click of the door opening and close again, followed by the soft footsteps padding across the floor. Bill. Your mind floods with warmth at the sight of him, his broad shoulders and toned arms exposed by the tight t-shirt he's wearing. He strides purposefully towards the bed, his expression one of concern mixed with desire.

"Hey, sweetheart," he murmurs, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. "How are you feeling?"

You smile up at him, already feeling a little better just from the comfort of his presence. "Better, actually. Thanks for asking."

He smirks down at you, the dimple in his cheek deepening. "You know I'd do anything for you, baby. Anything to make you feel better." His voice drops to a husky whisper as he trails a fingertip down your bare stomach, leaving a delicious shiver in its wake. "Especially since you've been such a good girl lately."

You feel your heart skip a beat, and your breath hitches in your throat. You know exactly what he means. Over the past few days, you've been on your best behavior, doing everything he's asked, just like the good girl you are for him. And now, it seems that he's noticing. You glance down, your cheeks flushing, as he slowly, teasingly, unbuttons your pajama top, revealing more and more of your bare skin to the cool air.

"That's it, baby. Just relax and enjoy it," he whispers, brushing his fingers through your hair. His touch is so gentle, so reassuring, that you find yourself melting further into the mattress. "I'm going to take such good care of you."

As his fingertips graze lower, tracing the edge of your lace-trimmed panties, you feel a surge of desire course through you. You've been aching for him, both physically and emotionally, and the thought of him touching you, making you feel better, is almost too much to bear. He leans down, his breath warm against your neck, and whispers, "You're so wet for me."

You feel him shift, positioning himself between your legs. His hot breath fanning across your sensitive folds, making your hips buck involuntarily in anticipation. And then, he's there, his tongue pressing against you, parting your folds and exploring the slick, wet heat beyond.

A shudder runs through you as he begins to lick and suckle at your clit, teasing and tormenting you in equal measure. You arch your back, gripping the sheets as your orgasm builds, building, building. You can feel it coiling low in your belly, spreading outwards through your entire body, and you know it's only a matter of time before it breaks free.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groans, his voice thick with desire. His free hand gently strokes your inner thigh, guiding it higher, closer to where his tongue is working its magic. The pressure builds, becoming almost unbearable, and then, with a cry that seems to come from deep within you, you explode.

Your orgasm crashes over you in waves, your body convulsing as pleasure washes over you in an intense, exquisite rush. You arch your back off the bed, gripping the sheets with white-knuckled intensity, your legs trembling uncontrollably. Bill continues to lap at your sensitive flesh, his tongue delving deeper and faster, as if he can draw out every last drop of pleasure.

When the last tremor finally fades away, he pulls back, his eyes dark and lust-filled. "Fuck, you're incredible," he rasps, his voice hoarse from the effort of keeping himself under control. He pushes his pajama bottoms down, freeing his erection, and positions himself between your legs.

He guides his cock to your entrance, pressing the tip against your slick folds. You feel a sting of pain as he penetrates you, but it's quickly overwhelmed by the sensation of being filled, of being claimed. Bill begins to move, slowly at first, his hips rolling in a smooth, rhythmic motion that sends waves of pleasure coursing through you.

"That's it, baby," he whispers, his breath warm against your ear. "Let me take away the ache." And as he continues to thrust, his words echoing through you, you feel yourself surrender to the feeling, to the exquisite pain that gives way to uninhibited pleasure.

His pace quickens, becoming more urgent, and you can feel the tension building in his body, the impending release that will send him over the edge. You arch your back, meeting his thrusts with your own, and with a groan that's part pleasure and part pain, you come again, your body shuddering around him.

"Fuck, yes," he growls, his hips snapping forward as he empties himself deep inside you. His weight presses you into the mattress, his body heat enveloping you in a cocoon of post-orgasmic bliss. He collapses beside you, breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling in tandem with yours.

You feel the warmth of his skin against yours, the strength of his arms holding you close. You're soaked through with sweat and combined essence, and it feels so right. You let out a contented sigh, nestling deeper into the crook of his shoulder. His chest rises and falls with each breath, and you can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

The afterglow of your orgasm lingers, a delicious ache that seems to radiate out from your core, spreading through your limbs and settling deep in your bones. You're sated, fulfilled, and for the first time in a long time, you feel a sense of peace wash over you.

Taglist: @madzandmore @tomscumdump @20doozers @billslittlewhore @charliesgoodboy

Requests are open! keep sending them in 💗

#tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel #tokio hotel x you #bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz fanfic #bill kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz smut #bill kaulitz x reader smut #bill kaulitz x you #billskeis #tokiohotel #tokio hotel fanfic #tokio hotel smut #tokio hotel x y/n #itsmealaiah

[athanza]

Starlett - Part 2

Cooper Howard/fem!OC (not self-insert)

Tags: Hurt/comfort (sort of?), non-allowed romantic connection, lots of tention, pre and post war drama, some Cooper dad fluff because why not ♡

Warnings: Mentions of domestic abuse and (no graphic scenes or descriptions of that nature), angst, canon wasteland violence

This branches out from canon but I thought it was a cute story idea so I had to write it. Enjoy! ♡

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4

2296

The harsh sun was setting now which meant he needed to find somewhere to settle in for the night. The rickety second floor of one of these buildings would be the best option so he'd have a good vantage point if something were to happen.

As he searched for the right building he began to hear muffled screaming coming from further in the crumbled town. At first, he couldn't give a rat's ass, but he needed to know if it was a big enough threat for him to keep moving.

It didn't take long for gunshots to begin ringing out through the ruins, but they were only from 3 separate guns...then 2...then 1.

As he reached the area where the shots were coming from, the sounds of a pissed off Yao Guai became apparent, and there was one singular person left to fight it off but she looked like she was badly injured.

"You son of a bitch!!" She yelled when her gun jammed and the wounded beast readied itself for another charge.

As it lunged at her one more time a shotgun shell slammed into the side of it's head and it went down, a pink mist left in the air for a moment as the rest of it's brains splattered to the ground.

The woman turned to where the shot came from to see Cooper walking casually towards her, unable to see his face very well in the dark. She pointed her now un-jammed rifle at him just in case.

"Those things'll kill ya." He quipped.

"Yeah, no shit." She replied, wincing at the pain from a gash on her side.

He cocked his head a little. Her voice sounded familiar.

"Why don't you put down that gun so I can cut myself some bear hide and be on my way?"

She scoffed. "So you can shoot me in the face and steal all my shit? No thanks cowboy."

That was it, the confirmation he didn't think he'd get.

"Irene?" He said.

The woman paused briefly, then aimed her gun properly. "How do you know my name?"

He stepped a little closer so that the light from the lantern on the ground could illuminate his face.

It took her a moment but she recognised his eyes and immediately lowered her weapon.

"Cooper?"

2077

A scream woke Cooper up in the middle of the night and he instinctively got up and ran to his daughter's room.

"Daddy!" Janey cried when she saw him.

He came over and hugged her tightly. "Hey, hey, it's ok, it was just a dream, you're ok."

She cried into him for a moment before spluttering "Why don't you and mommy love each other anymore?"

That caught him off guard. He had no idea what to say and it hurt so much hearing her say that.

"It's not that we don't love each other honey, it's just..." He tried desperately to search for the right words. "Well...your mom and I just disagree on somethin' really important and we tried to figure it out but it was too hard."

"What did you disagree on?"

"Well...that's grown up stuff baby girl."

She sulked quietly, putting her head back on his chest.

"We still love you very very much, that hasn't changed at all."

"Is it my fault?" She asked and his heart broke.

"No baby girl, no, not at all. None of this is your fault."

"I know I haven't been doing my homework, and I don't always feed Roosevelt when I'm told and-"

He cut her off, kneeling beside the bed so he could look her in the eyes. "Janey," he held her hands. "None of this is your fault. Your mother and I loved you since the day we found out we were gonna have you. And when you were born, we looked at you and we just cried and cried.

I have never been prouder or happier than I was in that moment. And you know what? That hasn't changed a bit, not even a little."

Janey smiled, her face still wet with leftover tears.

"Really?" She sniffed.

"Yes." Cooper chuckled, scooping her up and hugging her again and she giggled. "Now, how about a hot chocolate, with double marshmallows?"

She smiled and nodded enthusiastically.

She hugged him as he carried her downstairs. "I love you daddy." She said.

His chest burst with warmth and happiness and he smiled. "I love you too sweetheart."

The next morning, Janey was watching cartoons on the TV while eating her breakfast and Cooper sipped greatfully at his cup of hot coffee, having not gotten much sleep.

He smiled as he heard his daughter giggle at the TV, her mouth full of cereal, and sat down at the dining table with his newspaper.

But just as he sat down the loud ringing from the telephone rang out through the kitchen and he sighed heavily.

"I'll get it!" Janey yelled and ran over, hoping it was her mother. Her face dropped when it wasn't her mother's voice she heard on the other end of the line. "Yeah he's here, I'll put him on."

Cooper looked up at her tone and she held the receiver out to him. "It's for you dad."

He walked over and took it, kissing her on the head before she went back to her cartoons.

"Hello?" He said.

"Mr. Howard, it's Irene. I'm sorry to call you at home but I need your help."

Her voice told him it was serious. "What's wrong?"

"You were right. About Frank. I know we barely know each other but I need somewhere to stay for the night before I go to my mother's up in Sacramento. Lee...Lee doesn't know."

"I uh..."

"...no, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have bothered you." She said.

"No, no, it's ok. I'll make up the guest room for you."

He could hear a faint sigh of relief in her answer. "Thank you, so much, I owe you one."

He gave her his address and they hung up.

"Who was that dad?" Asked Janey.

"A friend from work. She needs a place to stay tonight so she's gonna stay in the guest bedroom. You'd like her."

She kind of shrugged in an uninterested way and took another bite of her cereal, her attention back on the TV.

He hoped no one sees Irene at his house, that's the last thing he needs in the papers, especially now.

Part 1 | Part 3

#cooper howard #the ghoul #janey howard #fallout #fallout tv #fallout tv show #fallout tv series #fallout amazon #fallout prime #fallout amazon prime #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #cooper x janey fluff #cooper howard x fem reader #the ghoul x fem reader #fallout fic #fallout fanfic #cooper howard x oc #the ghoul x oc #cooper howard fic #the ghoul fic #cooper howard fanfic #the ghoul fanfic #fan fiction #fanfiction

[uncouth-the-fifth]

good morning, charlie - Leon Kennedy/Reader

read it on Ao3.

Pairing: Agent!Leon/Detective!Wife!Reader Tags: domestic fluff with the tiniest dustings of background angst, married life, hugging, kissing, and snuggling. Words: 3k (yes, I'm capable of keeping something this short) Notes: read this in a WWE announcer voice: THAT'S RIGHT! UNCOUTH HAS COME CRASHING BACK INTO THE RING AFTER YET ANOTHER MONTHS-LONG HIATUS. i'm magical, truly. here is the first Leon fic I promised last month! There's so much I want to say about this little drabble, but I'll save that for my curious ppl on Ao3. this is going to be a big 180 from my spn content, and I sincerely hope that's okay with the public 😭 for my RE people: enjoy domestic Leon bullshit!

At two in the morning, Washington D.C. is pouring everything it has into crafting the coziest atmosphere of all time. A pleasant window-tapping storm had rolled in right around when you resolved to stay up working. Some late-night radio host is making soft, fizzing chatter in the next room, and coupled with a stellar view of the city from fancy floor-to-ceiling windows, you have a prime opportunity to pass the fuck out.

Unfortunately, you have made some spectacular life choices that don’t mix well with a full night’s rest. Nope, no sleep for you. Despite all of fate’s attempts to stop you from being a cop, (including throwing a city-wide outbreak at you on your first day), you are still here, gripping your job with both hands. At two in the damn morning.

Since scrubbing your eyes hadn’t woken you up the first five times you tried it, you give it another shot as you pace the length of your living room rug—from the coffee table you’ve stacked with files, then back to the whiteboard pasted top-to-bottom with pictures of missing young women. The whiteboard had been Leon’s idea. After the fourth time you’d transformed a flattened cardboard box into a morbid case-board for work, he’d cajoled you into letting him buy one for the apartment.

But I won’t be able to stab the tacks into it, you’d pouted.

Oh, the agony, your husband had drawled. He was a master of delivering a good, dry look.

You’d propped your fists on your hips and tried your best to look serious. The red yarn connecting everything isn’t just a detective-movie thing, y’know! It’s actually really useful. And I need my tacks to stick the yarn in—

Leon had cut cleanly through your building sass with another look, this time one glimmering with humor. Then I’ll get you magnetic ones, detective. Don’t you use whiteboards at the precinct anyway?

You’d grumbled. Because, yes, you did use whiteboards at the station, and they did have the little tacks with the magnets on the bottom. But you’d refused to deal with Leon being all smug (he was unbearable pretty when he was right), and had teased back instead, Whatever, nerd. Why don’t you and the other two angels go call Charlie already?

The reference had gone clean over Leon’s head. Of course, he hated being left out of a joke, so he’d roped you over by your wrist and pinched an explanation out of you until you were squealing with giggles.

Summarizing Charlie’s Angels to Leon had been a lot like offering a paper rocketship to an aerospace engineer. But, hey, picturing him running around in skimpy outfits and escaping action movie explosions on a motorcycle is a whole lot more fun than… than the real deal.

You don’t want to think about what his missions are really like. Not that you’re even allowed to know in the first place. Being Leon’s wife permits you a government-issued phone with his handler’s number, and on antsy days you can push Ingrid for details if you want. But after so long you’ve learned it only hurts both of you—for her, in the inability to answer, and for you, in the excruciating pain of being unable to know. Where is he? That’s classified.

She can’t always tell you when he’s coming home, either. So much of your life is hinged on her check-ins, and even more is forced to live off a simple, He’s okay.

For the seventh time, you scrub at your tired eyes and suck in a deep breath. You’d gotten that fabled text from Hunnigan—he’s okay—earlier today, and like always you crawled through the rest of your shift roiling with anticipation, waiting for Leon to materialize back into your life.

You force your gaze back to the whiteboard, littered with notes and pictures hung up with magnetic tacks. The faces of five missing women bore back. The ten-ton weight of your caseload slams down in full, and again, you scold yourself for floating back into comforting memories of your husband. These girls have lost all comfort in the world since they were taken. Your Captain gave you the responsibility of finding them, and after all you’ve been through, after all the other cases you’ve closed, there can’t be any room for failure. Think.

Your legs ache from being on your feet all day, chasing leads, but dropping into Leon’s armchair for even an instant will just have you nodding off again. More pacing it is, then. This is your pattern for the next half-hour: pace, re-read witness statements, turn, sip your coffee, pace, cross-reference alibis. He’s okay. Two of the girls were taken from Queen’s Chapel, two from Takoma, one from Woodridge. He’s fine. The last victim breaks the profile. What’s different about her? Why take her? Think think think— You know what Leon would do. He was the kind of person you could put in front of a problem, and no matter what he would find a way to shoulder his way through. With physical force, sure, but mental force too. He would sit and just look at the puzzle, and sheer willpower would lead him to some kind of answer. But you’d been pushing and pushing for days now, pursuing every lead, pressing every witness, yet nothing will give. The whole thing feels like a punching bag you’re beating at over and over again, knuckles raw and bloody—

Keys rattle just outside the front door.

First the big deadbolt scrapes open, unlatching with a heavy thud, and that sound alone is enough to shock you awake. More than any coffee could. Then comes the doorknob. Leon hasn’t even turned his key before you’ve twisted the lock open, yanked the door out of your way, and sent it whipping into the jamb with his keyring still swinging from its slot. You give him one full blink to register that it’s you before you’re throwing yourself on him without a single lick of shame, legs and all.

Of course, Leon bears your weight with grace. He grunts out an oof! when you come in for landing, and the living, breathing sound drains into one gruff laugh. You’re scooped up under the thighs and teddy bear squeezed against him. He reeks of cheap motel soap and something faintly coppery—then mint, a whole world of plush, wet spearmint when he nudges your face up with his nose and lays a hello kiss on you. The taste of his gum and the scratch of his stubble on your chin make your skin feel like it’s fizzing, inside-burning-out, every inch of you stood on end by his static charge. Jesus, this guy. He feels like fucking magic, and you’re confident that the laws of physics don’t quite apply around him. Everything in the room, in the too-big apartment that’s painfully empty without him in it, tilts toward Leon.

You shove your face nose-first into his neck and clutch the back of his jacket in both fists. Swallowing hard, you manage, “Hey, angel.”

“Good morning, Charlie,” Leon says.

If you had any resolve for today left in you at all, the wash of his sizzling butter voice would squash the last of it. You’d been trying to be sweet, but your husband has to be funny about fucking everything, of course. Even after weeks spent apart. You love him so fucking much.

“Don’t tell me you found time to watch that stupid movie.” Your voice is muffled by his coat, and you’re grateful for an excuse to hide.

You’re moving. Leon carries you inside, his wedding band pressing into your leg and his other big, warm hand spooned around your back. “Boring plane ride. I wanted to get your jokes.”

Your front door is toed shut, and with all the efficient maneuvering of a proper agent, Leon gets the place locked up behind you. Somewhere in all the commotion he’d dropped his go-bag by the welcome mat, and you hear the dramatic thunk, thunk, of his fancy work loafers being kicked off beside it. Only then does he slip you onto your own feet again.

Your hands slide down his arms as you make contact with the floor. Somewhere in the back of your mind you’re aware that he’s damp from the rain, but that fact hangs in the little alternate universe he’s made in your front hall. Standing there and being able to look at him straight-on, Leon doesn’t feel real. It’s like your constant thoughts of him have manifested a ghost in his shape, mimicking the smiley rookie you remember.

He greets you with a quiet, beaten-down smile, and you understand immediately that the world has thrown its fair share of punches at him, too. You’ve both had a shit week. The Kennedy surname just brims with good luck, huh?

Your hands work on autopilot as you take him in, slipping under the fabric of his jacket and lingering over his thudding heart. His warm blue gaze swims over your face, and you can almost hear the clicking mechanisms in his head as he forces himself out of operative mode and into home mode by looking at you.

“It’s a really bad movie,” you say, choked up.

Leon’s jacket hits the floor with his shoes. There’s a swath of ugly, purpling bruises crawling up his bare arm, old enough to be greening at the edges, and your stomach churns when you see it.

He taps your chin up, pulling you away from the damage and back on him. His voice rolls over you like bourbon in a glass. “Absolutely. So-bad-it’s-good, even. We should watch it, make fun of it together. Like, why the hell does…”

Leon flawlessly falls into an analysis of the movie’s poorly-written espionage elements. The movie you made one offhand joke about several weeks ago, mind you. He’s pulling at straws, saying whatever the hell comes to mind to make you laugh, so exhausted he’s literally swaying on his feet. You can’t believe he’s trying to distract you with something so trivial, but this is your husband. One flash of that weary closed-mouth smile, one brush of those callused hands down your wrists, and your whole world resumes its orbit around him.

You laugh at the jokes he’s obviously crafted for your benefit, a weak chuckle your heart isn’t in. With his hands looped around your wrists, he guides your arms around his neck and welcomes you back into the toasty bubble of his touch. Leon’s even warmer from being tucked underneath his coat. Pure goodness and safety glows off him like a fucking nuclear reactor, and it dawns on you that you haven’t felt safe at all since he left. Anyone can be plucked off the streets here.

One more scratchy kiss and then he’s leading you deeper into your apartment. No one on Earth would believe that he’s a chatty guy, but he talks the whole way through. Too often he’s left to sit in his own mind on missions, and you’re treated to two week’s worth of his backlog in the next ten minutes. All the little things he wanted to say to you. The streams of smart-mouth commentary he was famous for at the academy are all inner monologue now, but you’re confident the Leon radio show still runs twenty four hours a day. He chatters so much in his head that it slips out of him like water sometimes—

“…that close to an explosion would disintegrate you, but fuck physics I guess—“ Leon interrupts his own flow of thought to squint at you. “Quit looking at me like that. It’s unfair how pretty you are when you’re tired. What was I—not like the laws of physics apply to that movie anyway, but…”

—and you’re stupidly charmed by it. He talks to comfort himself, and because the two of you are one unit, one person to him, he does the same for you.

With your hand tethered in his, he clicks off the radio in the kitchen. One of Leon’s side-stories replaces the random late-night station that’d been playing, floating over the din of the rain like bass over relaxing drums. He pours out the dregs of your coffee. He closes the files full of gruesome crime scene photos on your coffee table, and you watch, barely able to keep your head up, as he flips your whiteboard over to its blank side. You’ll get his second opinion on the case tomorrow.

Leon sweeps the place with you in tow, and once the security system’s armed and you’re almost sagging against him, the lights come off. Though you’ve had plenty of time to adjust to the Leon that returned home from training, you’ll never get used to the little alien ticks it’s given him. He navigates to your bedroom in complete blackness. He avoids the creaky floorboard just outside your door without seeing, deathly silent. The broad presence of him looms in the dark.

One wall of the bedroom is nothing but paneled glass, throwing a long square of dark blue moonlight over your rumpled comforter. While the view of the Potomac and Capital Hill is stellar from up here, you’ve always felt out of place among the things Leon’s generous salary has earned the two of you: a flat with a private elevator in the nice part of town, fresh-off-the-press sports cars, a getaway cabin up north. So much of it you end up enjoying by yourself. It only ever feels worth it when he’s here, smacking his elbow into the digital wall-panel that controls your A/C.

“—s’ supposed to be a touch screen,” he sidebars himself for the tenth time. Softer, Leon adds, “Brush your teeth. I’ll be right there.”

You rope your arms around his middle and press your face into the heart of his back, careful of the bruises he’s doing his best to hide. “Wanna wait for you.”

Leon doesn’t protest. There’s more little beeps as he screws with the temperature of your mattress or something, deciding, “We live in a damn spaceship. Are we too good for plain old-fashioned buttons now?”

Apparently you are, since old man Leon fails to figure out how to crank the heat up. You let him play with it for a little while longer (it’s not his fault he’s rarely home), and then intervene with a few quick taps when things get dire. The heater hums to life under the floor a beat later, and he turns in your grip to scoff, mystified by your vast and incredible knowledge.

“My smart girl,” he hums.

Just that is enough to chip off a piece of your strength. Had he said that to you over the phone, a million miles away in god-knows-where, your knees would buckle. He is the only one who talks to you like that—with so much simple, uncomplicated love. Too tired to put your thoughts into words, you flatten a hand over his heart and kiss the sun-freckled nape of his neck.

“Clingy,” Leon mutters. You’re pretty sure it’s supposed to sound dry and funny, another one of his jokes. But then he’s smoothing both of his palms down your arms in two long handsy swaths, and the gesture tells you everything about just how clingy he’s feeling, too.

His stories make getting ready for bed an even slower affair. You couldn’t mind if you wanted to. As you help him out of his starchy dress-shirt button by button, he surprises you with a rare explanation of where he’s been for the last weeks. The UK. Truly, your husband is the special secret agent to end all special secret agents: he talks around his job as if it was a bump he’d hit on the way home, entertaining you instead with his Leon-ified vision of London. Touristy as shit. Loud as shit. Smelled like shit.

“Just like DC,” he chuckles, and then a second time when your fluffy head pops through the collar of the sleep shirt he’s dressing you in.

It’s too much rough, cinnamon spice laughter for one woman to stand. You duck away to brush your teeth and groan into your palms like a schoolgirl over him, but sure enough, Leon trails you, fingers chasing the hem of your shirt (his shirt) in a sleepy daze. He always keeps you in view. Nervous, maybe, to have you out of his sight.

This tradition continues when the two of you crawl into bed. Your eyes have adjusted to the darkness, and so has your body, able to sense him on the stupidly expensive mattress beside you. He thinks you can’t tell, but his gaze roves over you again and again—down your back when you flop face-first into the plush bedding, over the slope of your shoulder when you wiggle under the covers. Leon draws you into the glorious halo of his body heat with a gentle hand on your belly. If you could bottle this feeling, the whole world would be sick and stupid for him in hours. Minutes even.

You feel so safe that the word doesn’t even come to mind. Just vague, peaceful shapes of things you know, home, sleep, cologne, cozy. His work-rough palm with his body-warm wedding band slips under your tee to sweep over your ribs. Then comes Leon’s face, just on the right side of stubbly as he shoves it between your shoulder blades without a single lick of shame. The breath he takes of you is so heavy that his whole frame shudders with it, top to bottom.

You remember how you’d burrowed into his jacket the second he got home and think, You are me and I am you. We’re always on the same page.

With that, the stage is set. DC’s faraway glittering cityscape lights up all the raindrops on your window, and you watch them run as the two of you melt into one another. Leon’s warm breaths slow across your neck. Time for you to deliver your line.

You wet your lips and murmur into your pillow, “Do you want to talk about your mission?”

Legally, he can’t say yes. Government secrets, bureaucracy, yadda yadda. Leon isn’t always emotionally ready to crack open a coffin he’s just finished sealing, either, but while it is his job to close your case files for the night, you’re his wife. You’re the only person who can knock on that door. With how little choice he has left in his life, you try to give him options whenever you can. Regardless, you know the man you married—strong-willed on a mythical fucking level, and just as self-sacrificing. He’ll always try to spare you.

Sure enough, Leon says, “Tomorrow. Do you want to talk about your case?”

You shake your head at him, exhausted to the point of dizziness. “Tomorrow.”

A tender kiss is pressed to the nape of your neck, and the whole world goes silent for the perfect, husky whisper you’ve ached to hear. You feel his wry smile against your skin. “We’re always on the same page, baby.”

#leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy/reader #resident evil #resident evil four #re4 remake #leon kennedy drabble #uncouthre

[unsoundedcomic]

Genuine praise and applause here, you've achieved something unprecedented to me as a reader: I feel shaken and uncertain about a protagonist I once liked, but also still completely invested in their story.

Right now (I've just read 18-80 to 84) I feel you've struck a great balance of surprise (at Duane) and trust (in your story). Perhaps because no single choice of Duane's felt out-of-character, as they slowly added up? I honestly can't predict how I'll feel about him and his flaws by the end of Unsounded, but for once, I'm enjoying that unease! Because of the care you've taken in building your characters so far, I at least still have faith in *you* to reach a satisfying ending.

Oh this should be a question, hmm. Were you at all tempted to foreshadow Duane's recent/future choices more obviously (by character or plot), softening a bit of the impact for a smoother story? Because again, I'm glad you didn't – perfectly threaded needle to keep me captivated.

So glad you're having a good time!

I hope Duane's current state is pretty well telegraphed, though I know it can be hard to remember past instances when the webcomic delivery spaces everything out. He's repeatedly shown himself to be hypocritical and selective in regards to kids. The army story ended with him continuing to train babies in the killing arts and accepting a false narrative that he had never let one of them die. This led right into him turning a blind eye to the Litriya twins for the sake of helping the Aldish invaders get to the construct facility. He felt AWFUL about this - we saw it - and tried to make up for it, but even that very action was already going against what was said in the black water: God is not attainable by transaction. Duane was trying to erase that debt to Litriya. It doesn't work that way! Like Claggart said, you got to acknowledge your mistakes and keep moving.

Duane started to. He truly did, when he spoke to Lori and the Peaceguard, then moved to go defend the shrine. But then Mikaila was there in the sky and all development was cut short in tandem with his poor rotten head.

What did he see when he and Toma and Elka approached Port Morstorben's ravaged gate? Not all the dead bodies. Not a vision of Sara asking him to help defend her people. Instead Duane saw Lemuel and Leysa and Mikaila. The eels have always known exactly how to steer Duane towards his worst self, and they use his best self to do it. They use his blind love for his family, his loyalty towards his homeland, and his faith in God. These can all be fantastic attributes or they can make a monster.

So yeah, I feel like the foreshadowing is there pretty thick. What makes it still compelling, I hope, is Duane's selfishness and reluctance to change are so often counterbalanced by his earnest desire to make things better and to help the people around him as individuals, in the moment. There's not an ounce of real malice in the man, but when Duane stews, he often talks himself into making the wrong choice. When he acts with all the compulsion of a big-hearted protector, he tends towards selfless compassion.

[wito-chan-bla-bla]

Wrong number

Gojo likes to write Nanami and chat about (Y/N). The problem is… that all this time he was writing… to you.

"Hey, Nanami, you know what? My future wife gave me a very sweet smile today! I always thought that my Six Eyes didn't have even the slightest flaw, but in fact, there is still one! Why can't I use them to take photos? I would like to remember her smile forever!"

"Nanami-i-in, you have thirty seconds to say what (Y/N)-chan likes out of food! If you don't tell me, I'll come to your house and yell under your windows until you tell me!"

«NA. NA. MIN! Can you go to (Y/N)-chan and find out what her ring finger size is? I want to order a ring for our engagement in advance, but I do not know what size my princess ' fingers are."

Again. Again. Again and again. Gojo sent these messages... to you.

It all started about six months ago. You were lying quietly in bed and enjoying a well-earned sleep, when suddenly you jumped up and almost hit the ceiling. Your phone rang abruptly and woke not only you, but definitely your neighbors as well!

You mentally cursed the fact that you forgot to turn down the volume or turn off the sound completely. The phone was in your hands, and you were instantly almost blinded by the bright light. Cursing everything that was happening, you canceled the call and lay back on the cool sheets…

Only to hear three loud sounds in a row in a second, notifying you of the incoming message!

You sat up and growled softly to yourself. Belatedly, it occurred to you that you might be urgently needed as a sorcerer. So that you, overcoming the burning light in your eyes, could finally see the message that came. And there…

"What do you think, what kind of filling do I need to take anpans with?"

You sat for a few seconds, remembering what "anpan" is. Your sleeping brain found somewhere in your head the information that this is dessert, threw it at you and continued to sleep. You looked at the message again…

"Gojo-san, how did you get my number?"

Who else could it be? It was two o'clock in the morning, and an unknown person suddenly writes to you and asks with what filling to take a sweet! This was one hundred percent Gojo.

You turned down the brightness of the screen and turned down the sound, lay back on the bed and decided to finish this conversation quickly so that Satoru would no longer distract you from sleep.

"Ha! Because I am the great Satoru Gojo! You thought you changed your phone number and got away from me? Ha! A genius like me will find someone like you without any problems!"

You frowned. You haven't changed your phone number. But you decided not to think about it, you wanted to sleep.

"I don't want to deal with all this. Take all the filling options for anpans, you're still rich. I'm going to sleep."

And then you turned off the sound on your phone, put it away from you, and went back to sleep.

The next day, you decided to find Satoru and ask him how he got your phone number. You had a weekend off, so you didn't dress in your usual dark uniform, but in something more elegant. As you walked through the school grounds, you listened to the sounds around you. Yes, it would be more logical to find the tall man with white hair using your eyes, but you knew that it is much easier to go to where the loudest and "violent" sounds come from.

Suddenly, your phone tells you that you have received a new message. You have opened the appropriate tab…

You froze, looking around. Yes, there could be no mistake. Gojo photographed you from the roof of one of the nearby buildings.

You wanted to write to him and ask him not to joke, to come here and talk to you, but you froze, looking at the new message from Satoru.

"Hey, Nanami-i-in, do you see this? (Y/N)-chan is so cute today! Oh, I know! If I'm the "strongest", then she's the "cutest"! I think my cheeks will ache for a few more weeks from this memory!"

You continued to stare at the screen in shock. «(Y/N)-chan»? He never called you that! He always referred to you as "(Y/N)", sometimes as "(Y/S)".

But that's not even the strangest part! Why does he suddenly say you're... cute?

You were so confused by this sudden information that you couldn't speak to Gojo when he appeared next to you. You just mumbled something in embarrassment and ran to the bathroom, trying to cool off by splashing cold water on your face.

While you were washing up, I received another message.

"He-he-he-he, I really am not only the strongest, but also the most beautiful. I have a new record, Nanamin! I was able to embarrass a girl in seven seconds! And given that it was (Y/N)-chan… This is my absolute victory!"

After that, you couldn't even talk to Gojo.

You were in a hurry to go home, but so successfully encountered Nanami! You asked him to talk to you alone. Kento nodded and calmly followed you into one of the empty classrooms. All this time you have felt the heavy gaze of the heavenly eyes.

When you were in class, your phone made that familiar sound again.

"Why did (Y/N)-chan call you to this small room, m? Are you trying to take my little girl away from me? Quickly get out of there so I can see you! I don't trust your sharp cheekbones!"

–Is something wrong, (Y/N)?

You looked at Nanami and suddenly realized why he was so tired. When you were in school with him, you were even more or less tolerant of Gojo's antics, finding them funny... but Nanami…

–Did you change your phone number, Kento-kun?

The sorcerer gasped softly and nodded quickly.

–Yes, I'm sorry I didn't warn you sooner. I was on a mission, so I couldn't warn you. You couldn't reach me?

–Um... that's not really the point... I have a ... problem here.

You showed him your phone screen. Kento quickly ran his eyes over the messages and then groaned loudly.

–I knew he wouldn't stop there…

–W-what are you talking about?

–I actually changed my phone number so that Gojo wouldn't write or call me anymore, – Kento said with a serious face. – And even though I knew he would try to find me, I didn't think he would try to do it so quickly.

–Um... what he writes to me… is this a hoax or something, y-yes?

 Nanami looked at you. You've looked at Nanami.

–I could try to smooth things over, but our senpai deserves to be punished for distracting me from my legitimate vacation so often and forcing me to answer his stupid questions. Gojo has been in love with you since our first year of school. He keeps writing me stuff like that about you. This is one of the reasons why I decided to change my phone number and not tell him a new one.

You stood there in shock. You... you couldn't believe that Gojo has been in love with you for so long! You can't believe it, because even now, when you received such information and re-analyzed all his actions, you couldn't believe that he was in love with you!

 Yes, he brought you food. But at the same time, he was carrying packages for his students! Yes, he invited you to dinner. But with him and you always went your colleagues, friends or his students! Yes, he brought you souvenirs. But to whom did he not bring souvenirs after his travels?!

You've thought about it over and over and over again. And with every encounter with Gojo replayed in your head, you didn't understand howSatoru could be in love with you.

Meanwhile, Nanami noticed your reaction and tapped you on the shoulder.

–I understand you, (Y/N). I would also be traumatized if I found out that someone like Gojo had fallen in love with me.

–T-that's not the point! G-Gojo-san hasn't shown any signs of attention to me all this time! He... h-he just existed next to me and sometimes acted like Gojo-san usually does!

–However, this does not make my correspondence with him any less adequate, – Kento sighed and patted you on the head, trying to calm you down. – Gojo may not have shown it, but he's incredibly in love with you. I even think he's mentally unstable... and it's not just his romantic feelings for you. (Y/N), – he looked you in the eye, – you can do whatever you want with this information. You can even make him feel a huge amount of shame and shame, which is usually felt by people around him. I personally don't care.

You just nodded in embarrassment.

When you were exchanging phone numbers with him, you suddenly asked:

–Kento-kun, why didn't you just block Gojo-san if he annoyed you so much?

–Because, – Nanami clenched his jaw tightly, – he broke into my apartment, stole my phone, guessed the password, and unlocked himself! I logically decided that it was better to continue reading his whining than to clean the apartment again after a person who does not take off his shoes indoors!

–What makes you think... that he can't just break into your apartment and get your phone number?..

 Nanami grinned broadly at you.

–Because I moved out.

You left the room with Kento, happy for him and his new apartment. Suddenly, you got a text message again.

"Why is she so happy around you?! What did you tell her?!. I'm serious. What did you tell her to make her so happy?.. Oh, I know! If you tell me, I'll buy you bread!.."

You put your phone in your pocket without a word.

You wanted, you really wanted to write Gojo that you are not "Nanamin", that you are not "(Y/N)-chan", that you are not his "princess", "sunny", "rabbit", "goddess", "the most beautiful woman on Earth" and so on. But…

Sometimes it was so nice to feel like the most loved person in the whole world.

You didn't have a romantic relationship. You weren't sure what it was about, but the fact remained. No one gave you loud compliments, no one praised you and your body in a way that didn't make you feel uncomfortable and nauseous, no one gave you gifts or told you that they would put the world at your feet.

And Satoru Gojo... he said all that.

Every time you felt sad, you opened a conversation with him and read his endless "simp's messages". When you didn't have enough of that, you wrote and asked Gojo what exactly he "likes about (Y/N)". And each time Satoru wrote "oh, you finally asked, Nanamin, I thought you didn't want to be in this topic" and the next message flooded you with a portion of compliments.

When you thought about someone great like Satoru Gojo having such feelings for you... you couldn't help but feel better, and you had hope for the best.

But there was still a problem. Gojo... he never once did what Nanami asked him to do. It was like... bullying.

"Nanami-i-in, what kind of cologne do you wear? (Y/N)-chan said you smell good. Maybe if it suits me, (Y/N)-chan will also stick hours in my ribcage?"

You answered it by asking Kento first. But Satoru didn't change in any way after that. He smelled the same as before. (Yes, you specifically checked this out).

"What was the name of that restaurant that you and Shoko were discussing? I hear it has a great kitchen. I want to book a table to ask out (Y/N)-chan!"

No one asked you out on a date. Gojo didn't even hint at it.

"What kind of food (Y/N)-chan likes to take with him? She's going on a mission with me, so I want to cook lunch for her!"

No one shared the food with you that day. Moreover, Satoru left when you asked him to eat together, saying that he had urgent business to attend to.

"What gems do you think will suit her? She got a beautiful manicure, and I want to give her a ring and a bracelet that will match the color of her nails!"

You didn't get any expensive (or cheap) jewelry either before the nail polish was still in place or after it was worn off.

Gojo seemed to know… that it's you. You started to doubt that you were able to parody Nanami's perfect grammar, but then you remembered that Kento himself said that he constantly received messages from Satoru of a similar nature. And your friend will not lie to you, especially in something so serious.

In the end, half a year passed. You woke up and fell asleep with questions... and messages from Gojo. You didn't know what to do at all, especially now that you've come this far.

But there was exactly one huge plus in all of this. Nanami always wrote without errors and abbreviations, he even placed commas in the right places! So you were filled with the wisdom of your language and even learned a few dozen new words, because sometimes Kento dictated to you exactly how to answer Gojo.

The fourteenth of February came unexpectedly... or almost. And you planned to end your suffering soon. Because if you once again receive incredible praise in the text and see the usual behavior in life… you'll go crazy.

"Gojo-san, are you awake?"

"What do I see?! Did Nanamin finally text me first?! I don't believe it! I'll go and ask that ugly curse to pinch me! Wait a second...!"

"I can't wait. It's about (Y/N), if it makes you think faster."

You stared at the screen for a few seconds, and then…

–Hello?

 –(Y/N), why Gojo is breaking into the classroom where I wanted to take a nap and yelling that he's going to kill me?

–Um... I texted him on your behalf that I wanted to talk to him... C-can you ask me what kind of chocolate he'd like for February fourteenth? Better yet, l-let him write!..

 Kento ended the call abruptly. You decided to write to Gojo as soon as possible that "(Y/N) is interested in what kind of gift for the fourteenth of February you would like". Suddenly, Nanami called you again and thanked you for saving him, because he had already started climbing out of the window so that Satoru wouldn't kill him.

 Gojo has started typing you a message… He wrote it for a minute, two, five… You decided to leave your phone alone and go for a cup of tea.

When you returned from watching an episode of your favorite TV show, you looked at your phone…

 Did he w-write me a whole book?!

 You scrolled and scrolled and scrolled down the screen... until you finally reached the end.

"So much information is normal? I can think some more if (Y/N)-chan can't choose from what I've suggested!"

You decided to quickly convince him that everything is in order and so.

You started viewing his message… You have a feeling that you didn't read so much in high school.

In the end, you came to a simple conclusion that you didn't have to spend at least ten minutes reading this entire text: Gojo will be happy with everything you give him, but he will be most happy with homemade chocolate.

You planned to hand him a chocolate bar with a note like "it was me all along, (Y/N), not Kento-kun." But it turned out that you don't know how to make sweets. In the end, you decided to ask Nanami for help, taking up his entire evening.

Everything was fine. The wizard really knew how to cook, you quickly finished all the "dirty part", now the chocolate was cooling in the refrigerator and waiting in the wings. Slicing vegetables for Nanami to make a stew doesn't feel quite right. You were proud of the work you did. And yet you were afraid of what was coming.

–If you're tired, I can make dinner myself. You saved me from Gojo's nagging, so this is the least I can do for you.

–No, no, it's okay, Kento-kun… I was just thinking about it… Why is it that Gojo-san practically confesses her love to me in every message, but when we get close?… Why is he acting like he doesn't feel anything at all?

–This may sound corny... but he probably doesn't want you to get hurt, – Nanami reached out and patted your head, bringing back memories of the day you were in the classroom with him. – He is the strongest sorcerer, and he has many enemies. If he has a "favorite", then they will be in danger. This is especially true for the person he loves.

–But why then does he not try to suppress these feelings, but only remind himself of them by 'communicating with you'?

–Because Gojo is an annoying jerk who doesn't know how to control himself, – Kento started cutting carrots. – If you love him, I hope you both start dating as soon as possible. Then all his energy will go to you, and we, all the rest of his environment, will breathe calmly.

–Hey! Are you just making me a victim, Kento-kun?!

–Yes, you're right... – he chuckled softly. – Even you can't completely neutralize someone like Gojo.

You silently poked him in the shoulder.

Shortly before the fourteenth of February, you took out chocolate in the form of hearts, which was cooling all this time, and with the help of white chocolate you wrote an inscription on the sweets (each candy had one letter). "It wasn't Kento-kun's cell number".

And now everything was ready. You bought chocolate for your male friends and prepared to give joy to your colleagues.

You ran from building to building, finding your friends and giving them gifts. (You were planning to get a lot of gifts for White Day, so you had to take care of every man in your environment, hee-hee!) You decided to approach Gojo at the end.

The tall, solitary figure was easy to find. You clutched the colorful box in your hands and prepared for this important step in your life.

–Gojo-san... I have a gift for you.

 Satoru instantly turned around and pulled the black blindfold from his eyes. He smiled slyly at you and began to draw out the vowels, saying something teasing. But you didn't listen to him. You wanted to understand... how you're feeling right now.

If you were disgusted with Gojo or something like that, you wouldn't be reading so much of what he wrote for Nanamin. And yet... you didn't act like an embarrassed teenager either... or basically a person in love.

But then why did you do it? Why did you even make homemade chocolate for Satoru Gojo in honor of the fourteenth of February?..

You froze, looking at the sorcerer who said something like "are you frozen, struck by my beauty?". You thought about what he said... and then you nodded.

 Gojo has been close to you for several years now. People might call him annoying... but you found his behavior funny.

 You liked his jokes and antics. Yes, sometimes his pranks got out of hand, you felt more shame than laughter, but... in the end, you couldn't be mad at Gojo.

 Satoru was the one who always protected you on missions because you were "too weak". He was the one who threw a cold water bottle at you on hot days. He was the one who talked about himself and his "incredible coolness " over and over again when you were feeling bad, until you switched to anger at him, forgetting about your problems.

After all... Satoru wasn't as "bad" as some people thought he was. Or maybe you're already used to the fact that he's such an active, funny, and funny fool.

You didn't know why he fell in love with you. Maybe you just handed him a dessert when he was weak, and he remembered you as his hero. It doesn't matter…

Because you tripped over a rock!

You flew down in a rush, but suddenly big hands grabbed you by the waist. Gojo lifted you off the ground vertically and laughed, there were tears in his heavenly eyes.

–Y-you tripped in the air?! I want to make a GIF out of this! It was just perfect!

–Y-yeah, yeah, I know… Can you put me on the ground? I can't give you chocolate in this state.

 Satoru nodded enthusiastically and placed you on the ground. It vibrated impatiently on the spot, reaching out to you and waiting for you to give it a sweet. You looked at his face carefully. His skin was as pale as usual.

You gave him the box. Gojo started chatting about how he was so incredible that they even made him homemade chocolate. Satoru put the lid aside... and you were horrified to see that all the candies had flown up and got tangled up, so the phrase was impossible to read.

While Gojo chewed happily and theatrically, enjoying your cooking and praising you, you clenched your hands into fists. You didn't know what to do. You couldn't just give up and walk away. You…

–Gojo-san, did you like the candy?

–Yes! – he looked at you with great joy. – You made them especially for me? Oh-oh-oh, (Y / N), you're such a good and hardworking girl!..

It started pulling at your cheek. You listened to his phrase. He didn't sound serious, he was teasing you.

And you couldn't stand this ambiguity any longer.

–Gojo-san, by the way... can you call my phone? I lost it somewhere in my bag, I can't find it…

–I can use my Si…

He suddenly shut up and suddenly started nodding vigorously. He took out his phone and asked you to give him your phone number. You were talking digit by digit, shrinking from the inside out and afraid that it would end right now... no, you were afraid that you didn't know how it would end.

 And now the end has come. The last digit. Gojo tapped the screen with his finger…

–I think you gave me your phone number wrong. I called Nanamin for some reason…

You took your phone out of your bag with a trembling hand and looked at the screen. All of a sudden it became bright, two options appeared. "Accept incoming call" and "Cancel incoming call". You hit the green button under the shocked gaze of the sorcerer and bring the phone to your ear.

–Hello?

 Gojo stood blinking in surprise for a few seconds, then canceled the call.

–S-so... everything I wrote... wasn't seen by Nanamin, but by you?

–Y-yes, – you gulped and nodded. – And I wanted to talk about it…

Before you finished your sentence, Satoru threw his phone at you and ran off in an unknown direction so fast that you didn't quite understand where he ran to in the first place. The only thing you realized... was that his face, ears, and neck were completely red.

 You are left alone with your thoughts, feelings... and his phone.

After that failed declaration of love (or whatever it was?), you were on missions for several days and couldn't talk to Gojo. Just in case, you carried his phone with you, so that if something happened, you could give it back. So when you finally got back to your apartment, showered, and ate... there was a knock on your door.

 Satoru was on the doorstep. It looked calm when you looked through the peephole in the door, but now that you opened it, it was getting redder and redder before your eyes.

–Um... I came to get my phone, and... my mistakes and my shame.

–Do you want to... talk about it?

–I t-think... you already know.

You looked at Gojo and were surprised. You've never seen him look so confused. Usually Satoru made all the people lose their patience and calmness… but now, he was the one who had lost his playfulness and fun.

You silently stepped aside, hinting at the sorcerer to come in. But he didn't budge from his spot in the communal hallway.

–Um... please come inside, I don't want any of the neighbors to see the mess in my apartment. I think... we need to talk.

–Ar-re you sure... you want to do this after everything I've written... to you?

–Yes. Because... your words really supported me when I was having a hard time, – you smiled faintly and hid your embarrassment by burying your nose in your shoulder. – So... please... let's talk.

 Gojo Satoru, a great sorcerer, the strongest user of cursed energy in this generation, a tall and incredibly handsome man... came into your apartment blushing and hunching like a teenager. You smiled faintly and closed the door behind him so that he wouldn't run away.

Because you couldn't escape his messages. And now he... won't be able to run away from you either. Perhaps ... it's time for him to know what you think of him, too, even if you tell him all this while looking him straight in the eye... and not through messages on your phone.

[In my head, it looked better... eh…]

#x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #fem!reader #gojo #satoru x reader #satoru gojo

[icycoldninja]

Sorry for all the requesting 🥺😭 This is gonna get dark!

May I please request headcanons for the Sparda boys + V reacting to their female S/O being kidnapped and tortured over a long period of time and they have to deal with the physical and mental aftermath when she’s finally rescued?

Ay, it's no problem. Here ya go, and enjoy!

Sparda boys + V X Fem!Reader kidnapped and tortured headcannons

Warning: As the title implies, there is some dark content coming up with themes of torture involved. If you are uncomfortable with these themes, DNI!

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

¤ Dante ¤

-Oh boy. First it was his brother, and now his girlfriend? Whoever dared do this to you is in for a world of pain.

-He doesn't wait around long enough for the kidnapper to send him footage of what was being done to you; the moment he realizes you're in danger, he's hopped on his motorcycle and is looking towards your location which he discovered with his demon instincts.

-He finds you tied to a chair with barbed wire, bloodied, broken, and sobbing. While looking upon your battered and bruised figure, honestly feels like crying himself.

-Oh, his baby, his poor, poor baby. He loved you so much and never, ever, in his wildest dreams, would have wanted to see you hurt like this. He nearly Triggered right there and then, but he held himself back for your sake. He didn't want to terrify you any further than you were now.

-He got you out of that horrible place as fast as he could, his limbs shaking nearly as violently as you were when he carried you out of the kidnapper's hiding place.

-"Hey there, badass. You can relax now, it's all gonna be OK now that I'm here."

-The moment you guys returned to Devil May Cry, he fed you as many green orbs and Ibuprofen tablets as he could without overdosing you. He didn't want you to feel the pain anymore; he wanted you to be smiling and happy again.

-Once the medicine kicked in and you were comfortable enough to sleep, he held you. He refused to let go of you. He clutched you as tightly as he could, tears silently running down his face. How could he allow this to happen?! How could he let you get hurt like this? What kind of devil-hunter extraordinaire was he if he couldn't even protect the only woman in the world he ever truly cared about?

-He was going to spoil you with attention and affection even before you woke up. He wanted you to heal from this, and wanted to be the one to help you heal.

-You are so precious to him, and now he's going to show you just how much in any way he possibly can.

-Expect long, loving cuddles, big hugs every time you walk into a room, and words of affirmation whenever you look down.

-He'll also tenderly treat your wounds and wrap them himself, telling you how strong and brave you are to have survived all that pain every time he does so.

-This whole incident was a massive fright to him; now he's going to hold onto you so tightly, there's no way he could ever lose you again.

■ Vergil ■

-He is so, so, scared, but he refuses to show it. Vergil remembers what it was like to be brutally tortured at the hands of Mundus, so he is enraged and horrified when he finds out the same has been done to you.

-He can't stop himself--and won't. Whoever did this to you doesn't deserve that mercy. He Triggers, and sails away to find you, doing so in a sheer matter of minutes thanks to his demonic instincts.

-He bursts into your kidnappers' hideouts, roaring. He hears your anguished screams and flips into overdrive a second time, literally tearing through the walls as he frantically searched for you.

-The noise scared you, making you think it was the kidnappers returned to torment you further. However, when you saw the hulking, icy-blue devil crash through the wall, your fears were put to rest.

-The moment he saw your battered, torn form bound to a chair with barbed wires jutting into your flesh, he nearly blew up the building and all that was around it.

-There was so much anger coursing through his veins, you could feel it emanating from him, even as he gingerly undid your bonds and scooped you into his massive, scaly arms.

-"Do not cry anymore, Precious. The nightmare is over now. I am here. You are safe."

-He portaled you out of there with the Yamato and immediately took you to the hospital to get your wounds treated.

-He also refused to leave your side for any reason, insisting on staying and watching the doctors work, even if what they were doing was unsettling; he'd seen and been through much worse.

-The entire time, Vergil sat by your bedside, either staring at you intently, or holding your hand. He didn't want to let you go, and most certainly didn't want you to leave his sight.

-The moment you awoke, the first thing Vergil told you was that he loved you. He sounded out of character, considering this was something he rarely ever said aloud, but he was so afraid of losing you, and the PTSD of Mundus's torture was returning to him--he wanted you to have what he never did when he was recovering: comfort.

-He stayed by your side until you were discharged from the hospital, and after that, drove you home, only to wrap you in his arms and cuddle you till you both fell asleep.

-You both would undoubtedly be having nightmares about this for weeks, but for now, at least you were safe in Vergil's arms.

□ Nero □

-He found out what had happened to you in the worst way possible. He received a video from the kidnapper.

-It depicted the kidnapper, who wore a mask to obscure his face, using a crowbar to break your arms and legs while you were suspended by your arms from the ceiling.

-Nero lost it; his pseudo devil trigger Triggered and he was out the door in an instant.

-He doesn't possess the demonic tracking abilities of his father and uncle, unfortunately, but he manages to find you after a good half hour of searching.

-What he walks in on is disgusting. You're begging for mercy, sobbing and screaming under the pain your various broken limbs were causing you, all while your kidnapper laughed.

-Nero wanted to tie this motherfucker up and give him a taste of his own awful medicine, but he had bigger priorities: you.

-He freed you, shushing you when you screamed out in pain, promising he's gonna get you all patched up faster than you can think and that everything is gonna be ok.

-"You can rest now, baby, I gotcha."

-Once he takes you back to Devil May Cry, the entire Sparda clan and their friends are by your side in seconds, with Nero at the forefront. They heal your wounds in seconds and Dante makes corny jokes to lighten the mood.

-Then, they leave you and Nero alone to converse in private. It's a good thing they did, too, because almost as soon as the room was empty, Nero burst into tears, trapping you in a hug and sobbing into your shoulder.

-You ended up crying along with him; the two of you just bawling into each other's shoulders.

-Nero promised to never allow something like this to happen ever again, and spent the remainder of the night lying next to you with his arms and legs wrapped your you like a giant koala on a beat-up tree.

-You were very thankful for this because honestly, you didn't think you could survive this stressful, traumatizing night without having Nero snoring by your side.

● V ●

-V was texted a sickening video by an unknown number, and the moment he opened and watched, he collapsed.

-The kidnapper, standing offscreen, was repeatedly striking younin the face, chest, hips, and other areas with a spiked bat before kicking you in the stomach and shutting the camera--or whatever he used to film the video--off after releasing some unhinged laughter.

-V was terrified. He had no idea how to find you from this meager information, let alone save you.

-Still, he was determined to try, and so, gathering up his cane, he limped along, Shadow at his side and Griffon doing reconnaissance a few feet away.

-After some time, they found you, lying on the floor in an unbelievably deep pool of your own blood, yet still fully awake.

-V would have knelt there and cried, but he forced himself to swallow the tears and lift you to safety.

-Oh, Wanderer...what have they done to you?"

-He brought you to Devil May Cry and patched you up to the best of his abilities, using as many green orbs as he could get his hands on.

-Though your physical words may have been healed, your mental wounds were anything but.

-You were in so much shock, you were shaking from head to toe. V saw this and wished there was more he could do to help, but for now, he would hold your hands, kiss your cheeks, and rest his head in your lap while you told him anything and everything you needed to get off your chest.

-He read to you, too, his soothing voice doing wonders to ease your anxiety and calm you to a point where you could sleep.

-As V watched you slumber, he made a silent pact to always protect you, however he could, for as long as he could. He never wanted to see you go through something like this ever again.

#Dmc #Dmc5 #Devil may cry #Devil may cry 5 #Dmc dante #Dmc vergil #Dmc Nero #Dmc v #Dmc5 dante #dmc5 vergil #Dmc5 Nero #Dmc5 v #Devil may cry dante #Devil may cry Nero #Devil may cry vergil #Devil may cry v #dante x reader #vergil x reader #nero x reader #v x reader #dmc5 dante x reader #dmc5 vergil x reader #Dmc5 Nero x reader #dmc5 v x reader #Requested #thanks for requesting #icycoldninja writes #Headcannons #Angst #angst headcanons

[rory-multifandom-mess]

GRABS YOU

Gimme ur V headcanons now <3

You know who this is

you're GAAAY, YOU'RE GAAY, YOU LIKE KISSING GIRRRLLSSSS

ok anyway

V Headcanons

V can be very flirtatious when she likes someone (that isn't N) (Yes this is my Vhad brain speaking. shut up)

Huge tease and takes joy in scaring others

Ever since the pilot, she likes to sneak into Outpost 3 through the ventilation shafts

Gives lovebites to those she likes (I'm projecting a little here)

When she's bored and exhausted from putting up her badass sadistic woman front, she'll fly up to the roof of one of the taller buildings and stargaze. And just... think.

Random compliments will catch her off guard, but she always covers up her flusteredness by flirting back or just being sassy

Her sadism and mild insanity is actually a cover-up/coping mechanism. She doesn't take joy in hurting others, and a lot of her unnecessary killing is an emotional outlet, an attempt to feel something other than hatred and despair. (hence the "and yet? i still feel nothing!" line in the pilot)

Sometimes she'll also tell herself that killing worker drones is getting revenge on Cyn for ruining her and N's lives. She'll even somtimes imagine the worker drone she's slaughtering is Cyn

V is usually the first to wake between her, N, and J. She's made sure it stays that way, because then she can check and make sure they're still there; she does this to be sure Cyn doesn't rip them away from her again

She stays distant from N so they don't get too close again like they did in the mansion, because Solver hates love and thinks its gross, and it'll kill N in front of her face again if it has to, she's sure of it

Every time she wakes up, she looks around and checks her body to make sure Solver isn't experimenting with her again - to make sure she isn't being messed with

I think her love language would be acts of service. The moment she finds herself doing anything for anyone without them asking her to is the moment she starts to distance herself because no. nuh uh. that's just asking for solver to ruin everything again.

This is more of a general headcanon for all disassembly Drones, but I think they can switch between seeing through their 6 eyes on the top of their head and the regular 2 on their screens. That being said, V usually sticks with the 2 on her screen simply because that's what she was used to. She only switches to the 6 on her head when engaged in battle for that advantage, as opposed to N and J, who are usually using the 6 unless they need to scan an area (or N in episode 4. stupid fuck. love him)

AAGH I NEED MORE V HEADCANONS BUT I DON'T HAVE ANY MORE. Anyway hope you enjoy these! Most of them are angst oops

#ask box #ask answered #rory answers #rory rambles #murder drones #murder drones headcanons #serial designation v #serial designation n #serial designation j #murder drones v #murder drones n #murder drones j #n x v #kind of? #murder drones fandom #vhad #killingblond #kind of #just a little

[littledigits]

Hello..

Not sure if this is going to makes sense..... but

How does one approach studying Timing and Spacing in animation ?

Like, how would you go about taking notes/

Or observing and studying Spacing and Timing of an animated scene mindfully, so you could apply it to your own work.

Do people just watch an scene they like on something like youtube, and go frame by frame, noting down how many frames have past between each keyframe as well as the spacing by thumbnailing them down ?

I'm honestly kinda overwhelmed, and frustrated cause I have a hard time nailing down the kind of timing I want (specificlly getting that 'snap' kinda feel)...

I don't like how 'floaty' or 'smooth(?)' things tend to turn out when i try to animate ;-;

IT MAKES SO MUCH SENSE. My friend I give you big support vibes cuz I had such a hard time understanding timing and spacing. It comes easier for some but not others and thats ok. I had to learn how to be boring with it before I got comfortable enough to experiment and I can still easily get stuck in my box. I would say that reference is a HUGE PART of making animation work. Over time you can build up your mental library and you may not need as much and just go off of your own thought process but thats something you build up to. And most people when they start will find things either can be jittery or too even, and thats just part of training your eye! Snappy animation can be tough too ! but thats why learning from it is GREAT. Gosh theres so much you can learn from frame by framing things - especially classic hand drawn stuff. So i 100% would recommend finding some ref of the style you want to emulate and just try it out and 100% -figure out how many frames in between , seeing just how much they manipulate the pose, anything really! Its not about getting it all right, its just about breaking it down and learning a few things at a time and going 'OH maybe ill try that out next time' I think you going ' hey this feels too floaty and isint the vibe' is you exactly describing what the problem is. Your in-betweens are probably very evenly spaced out- but thats a really common problem when people first start. But the solution is just as you said - REF. And in animation that is more of a part of the job then anything honestly, same with storyboard. and learning a lot from eachother. I FEEL YOU THOUGH. I was there too, and it took me longer then others to be able to get what I want. But you're on the right track , just dive in to doing that good good frame by frame and then trying it out yourself ! here are some links that you may find useful as well ! https://gingercatsneeze.tumblr.com/post/145037677357/1-ah-fai-was-a-chief-animator-for

HOPE THAT HELPS ! <3

#IT TOOK ME AWHILE TO EVEN -LIKE- ANIMATION BUT NOW I LOVE TALKING ABOUT IT