#this one gets its own post because this angle of the hug and the heads pressed together ended my life

[pixelatedquarter]

#pete wentz #travie mccoy #this one gets its own post because this angle of the hug and the heads pressed together ended my life #i am not emotionally recovering from this one either #tourdust #fob #fall out boy

[unknown-to]

fluff, megumi fushiguro x reader

Thinking about Megumi looking at you from head to toe with a stern expression when you wear something revealing, avoiding having to tell you to change your outfit because he thinks you’re allowed to wear whatever you want.

But later when you go out, he grabs the first opportunity to put his jacket over your shoulders, or around your waist, as if nothing happened just so his pretty girlfriend doesn’t expose herself for everyone to see.

He spends his whole time doing his best to take care of you and treats you like a porcelain doll, though he never makes it obvious and just does it with little subtle things.

Megumi would avoid holding your hands, kissing you or hugging you in public, but when it’s cold outside and your soft little hands are freezing, he takes your hand to hold it inside his pocket.

He avoids physical affection with you in private too, waiting for you to let go of him every time you hug him out of the blue. Occasionally, pushing you away and pulling out of your embrace when it’s more than a few seconds.

But every time he feels conflicted or low in general, he’s the first to come and hug you. Eyes closed and deep breath in your neck, just so you can’t witness how embarrassed he feels to be the one to search for physical reassurance.

Megumi is honestly in love with you and never fails to show it to you without even noticing, never forgetting your likings and orders in every places you’ve been.

He makes you feel like life is easy from how everything you want or think about doing are already done when it’s in his power to make it happen.

As much as he catches himself staring at you in admiration when you don’t notice, and gets flustered when you finally realize.

“i wasn’t looking at you..”

He mutters, avoiding your gaze with a frown as his cheeks turn pink in embarrassment. Although you both know he was lying, living in denial at how his heart flutter every time you make eye contact.

Megumi could really spend hours staring at a photo of you when you’re away, amazed by how pretty you look in every angle and how much he feels his heart melt in love to know your his and only his.

Small and discrete smiles hanging on his lips when you tell him ‘i love you’ before hanging up when he’s on a call with you. Feeling an anxious tingle in his stomach when he tells himself ‘it’s the one, i’m gonna tell her’.

“i love you too”

But ends up whispering it to the beeping of his phone because you hang up knowing how hard it is for him to return your words.

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hi (: its been a while, i havent posted since ages bc i didnt quite know abt who or what.. and well i said i’ll post another one

but anyway here is one about our precious megs, i love him sm )):

hope y’all enjoy(ed), im open for suggestions and requests btw!

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©unknown-to. please do not copy/translate/use as your own.

#[🌻] ei writes #[🌷] ei fluff #megumi fushiguro #megumi x you #megumi x reader #megumi imagine #megumi fluff #jujutsu kaisen megumi #jjk megumi #jujutsu megumi #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jjk #jjk x y/n #jjk imagines #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk men #jjk fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen fushiguro

[senorabond]

Rumor Has It: Chapter 5 Peña x f!reader x Pike

Pairings: Javier Peña x f!reader; Marcus Pike x f!reader; future Peña x f!reader x Pike

Chapter 5 Summary: Peña has done more than you expected by making you the Customs Agent in Charge, and you’re already starting to feel the pressure. While preparing to give your first official brief, you reach out once again to Marcus for reassurance. The call leads you down memory lane to the last conversation you had with Marcus face to face.

Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI), Explicit sexual content, additional warnings may be added for future chapters

Chapter Warnings: no use of y/n, previous relationship (Marcus x f!Reader), drinking (pity party of 1 - your wine is ready), flashback, semi-public/workplace sex (evidence locker after hours), unprotected p-in-v (stay safe, folks), probably talking about cum way too much?, Dom/sub dynamic, soft Dom!Marcus, praise kink, you are such a good girl, cockwarming, aftercare, denying all the feels, ohh the yearning

Reader/Character notes: Reader is fem!afab; No mention of Reader’s body size, shape, composition, or skin color.

Words: 4.6k

Author’s Note: This chapter contains the final installment of the Last Night in D.C. Flashback, as I’ve dubbed it in my head. It was certainly a challenge, and I’m oddly proud that I actually made myself cry a little while writing it! I plan on posting the entire D.C. flashback while I’m working on the next chapter if you’d like to read it in its entirety. I’m excited at where we are in the story, because the events in this chapter will make a lot more room for Javi to work his magic.

All the smooches and hugs to @kilamonster who puts the B, E, T, and A (*giggity*) in BEAUTIFUL - thank you, lovey! 

Masterlist || Previous Chapter

Texas Present

A copy of the assignment paperwork shows up on your desk the next morning. Next to your name states your role in the case: CBP Agent in Charge. 

Peña did more than make good on his word to keep you involved. You’d told him you didn’t want to be just another liaison or consultant, but you weren’t expecting this. It doesn’t feel right, truth be told. You wanted this level of involvement in a case, but only by earning it on your own merit – not because your connection at the FBI panned out. 

Your conversation with Marcus the previous day still lingers in your mind as you try to get some work done. It was good to hear his voice again so soon. Great, actually. You admit that you missed the sound of his smile when he spoke and his reassuring tones. He actually listened to what you said and remembered things you told him. Marcus was going to make somebody very lucky one day, and they had better deserve him. 

Marcus had been gracious when you fessed up and told him that Peña wanted you to use your connection to the art squad to help with the case. 

“I know how bureaucracy really works,” he’d said. He was surprised to hear that Peña had already tried calling, and you offered to ask Peña who he’d spoken to in their office. 

You stare blankly at the paperwork in your hand. You’re officially attached to the case now, but it’s still squarely in the DEA’s jurisdiction for now, which means the ball is in Peña’s court. The man is always so busy, you could be waiting a week if you don’t put yourself in his path. Smoothing your skirt, you decide to walk by Peña’s office to see if he’s free to talk. 

The butterflies in your stomach wilt a bit when you see the door closed. The blinds on his office windows are parted, and through the slats you observe Peña leaning back in his leather office chair, holding the phone receiver against his shoulder. Held at that angle, his neck is elongated and you notice the tight cords of tendon and muscle flex as he speaks. 

You pause a moment, wondering if you should pass by and continue to the breakroom for coffee, or head back to your desk. Before you can decide, Peña spots you and sits up in his chair. He beckons you forward, and you approach his door. The butterflies return as you turn the knob and walk in just as he’s hanging up his phone.

“I see you got your copy of the detail agreement.” He nods at your hand, where you’re grasping the paperwork.

“Yeah, I did.” You take a breath. “Thanks for that.”

“You earned it.”

Choosing to ignore his platitude, you direct the conversation to figuring out your first tasks. 

“When do I start?” You notice the chair in front of his desk is still empty from your last visit, so you sit without being invited. As you cross your legs, the sheer material of your stockings makes your legs glide together smoothly. 

“Right away, if you can. We’ll have our first team briefing Monday morning.” Javier adjusts his tie and clears his throat. A smile tugs at the corner of your mouth as you catch his eyes taking in your movements while you smooth the fabric and tug the hem of your skirt down to a demure length. Javi must be a leg guy.

“I want you to present your strategy to the team,” he adds, eyes cutting up to meet yours and catching you off guard.

“My ‘strategy?’” It takes you a moment to register what Javier means. “You mean my idea that we talked about at the bar the other night? I wouldn’t exactly call that a strategy.” 

“You’ll need to flesh it out a bit more, of course. Prepare for questions.” Javier props his elbows on his desk and leans over, his voice softens slightly. “Can you do that for me?”

His question – the sincerity in his tone, the earnestness in his face – makes you want his approval, makes you want to please him. Nodding, you say, “Of course. I’ll get started right away.” 

He smiles appreciatively. “I’m looking forward to it.” You stand up to go, and he adds distractedly, “That’s why I made you the Customs AIC.”

“What?” You look back at him, stopping in the doorway.

“Your strategy. It’s what’s going to make this case successful.” You’re intrigued by this shift in Javi. He’s different: more open and forthcoming, generous with his time, giving you a peek at a softer side of him you couldn’t have known existed.

“I was doubtful at first,” he concedes. One of his large hands smooths his mustache and he smiles wryly. “But somebody reminded me that I don’t know shit about art.”

You flush a bit, remembering how forceful you’d been with him at the bar. That kind of assertiveness was new to you, but the case you worked with Marcus had helped you build up your professional confidence. 

Drawing yourself up a bit taller, you smile back at him. “Well, that person sounds very smart. I’m glad you listened to them.” 

Javi smirks and relaxes back into his chair, bridging his fingers together contemplatively. As you turn to leave, you hear him say, “Me too.”

~~~

Now that you know the reason Peña made you the Customs Agent in Charge of the case was because of your idea and not just your connection to the FBI, you feel an even stronger drive to excel. You know you tend to be unrealistically hard on yourself, but you justify this impulsive need to not just succeed, but to exceed all expectations, with the fact that a positive result in this case could get you the promotion you’d been gunning for back in D.C. 

Marcus was always good at grounding you when you went a little too far and started spiraling. He understood that the standards were different for female agents. He witnessed the endless patriarchal bullshit you and the other female agents had to put up with on a daily basis, and did his best to be an ally from within the institutional boys’ club of federal law enforcement. 

Marcus had a knack for knowing when to say something to pull you out of a spiral, and when you needed to push yourself through it. He was never condescending nor patronizing, but his natural empathy made you feel seen, heard, and valid.

Making a solid first impression with the rest of the agents on the case will be paramount to getting everyone on board with the strategy. Thankfully Peña is on your side, but you don’t want the others to go along with it just because he tells them to. You want to instill them all individually with confidence in your idea.

You’ve already been at this most of the day. For comfort, you decided to move from the small dinette table in your kitchen to your bed, where an open bottle of red wine now sits on your nightstand. 

You’ve gotten stuck trying to poke holes in your strategy, identify the risks and vulnerabilities to prepare for any hard-hitting questions. It’s hard to see things from an outside perspective. Sighing, you reach over and pick up the glass of wine sitting next to your phone. You could really use a partner right now to help prepare this briefing. 

Your eyes go back to your phone, and you consider calling Marcus. It’s a Saturday, and he might have plans, or could just be enjoying some quiet time outside of work. You decide to send him a text first, just in case. 

After agonizing for several minutes over what to say, you decide to send a simple: Can you talk?

Blowing out your cheeks with a big exhale, you turn back to your presentation. A few minutes later your phone dings and you rush to grab it.

Sure, let me get somewhere quiet. 

You let out a groan and feel bad that you’re obviously pulling him away from something, but you’re feeling pretty desperate. Resolved to make it a quick conversation, you’re poring over your notes and then jump when your phone rings. 

You answer immediately, imbuing an apologetic tone to your voice, “Marcus, hey, I’m so sorry–”

“It’s Javier.” 

You blink, too stunned to respond. Glancing at your phone’s screen, you see the call had not actually come from Marcus as you’d assumed.

“Who’s Marcus?” His tone had turned teasing and you hear the clink of ice in a glass. “You standing some poor guy up?” 

You recover enough to stammer, “Uh, no. No, he’s just a friend.” You don’t know why you felt the need to give Javi an explanation. 

“Mm, okay.” He exhales slowly, and you think he must be smoking a cigarette with his whiskey. “Whatever you say, cariño.” His voice is a soft purr from deep in his chest. 

You’re suddenly very aware that you’ve never spoken with Javi on the phone outside of work, and it feels strange – not in a bad way, he has a nice voice. But you do feel off kilter, and a touch of vulnerability makes you stomach flip. 

“So…” You pause, not sure what to say without sounding rude. “What can I do for you?”

“I was wondering if there was anything I could do for you, actually.”

Wrapping your sweater more tightly across your chest, you wonder if your nipples are pebbling from a chill in the room or the idea of Javi helping you with something. You really need to get laid; you can’t focus on this case this tightly wound.

“Like what?” You take another sip of wine and wonder what the whiskey in Javi’s glass tastes like, and if the tobacco you smelled on him the other night in the bar is what he’s smoking now. 

“The briefing on Monday – that’s a lot for one person to manage, especially one who doesn’t have any resources assigned yet.” 

Resources. That means an actual team, with actual funding. You take a deep breath to steady yourself. That drive to impress and succeed can make you do stupid things, like take on way too much for one person, and set yourself up for failure. You’re starting to feel that sense of overwhelm that happens when you feel like you’ve taken on too much but force yourself to rein it in. 

Needing help is not a weakness. Asking for help is a strength. Accepting help when offered, especially from somebody like Javi, is the right thing to do.

Swallowing your pride, you say, “Yeah, that’s actually what I’m working on right now. It is a lot. What kind of help did you have in mind?” 

Ice clinks in his glass again and you can almost picture him licking the cool, golden drops from his mustache.

“How about I meet you tomorrow to go over what you’ve got so far, and we can go from there?” 

“Meet me – you mean at the office?” 

“Or your place, wherever you’d be most comfortable.” His tone is purely professional, it doesn’t sound like he’s feeding you a line. But the idea of Javier Peña being inside your apartment fills you with something akin to panic.

“The office is good,” you rush to answer. 

Javi’s chuckle is low and breathy. “Whatever you want, cariño.”

You agree on a time to meet the next day and hang up, just in time for your phone to start ringing again a moment later. Downing the rest of your wine glass, you answer with a choked, “Hello?”

“Hey, sorry, it took me forever to find a quiet spot to call – you okay?” Marcus is raising his voice slightly to hear himself over the music and conversation in the background.

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine – sorry to bother you right now, I can tell you’re busy.” Setting the empty wine glass down next to the bottle, you begin to feel flushed and flap your sweater to cool off.

“It’s okay, just a work thing for, uh… for my girlfriend.” 

Your bed disappears from beneath you as your stomach drops. The dregs of the wine burn a trail down your throat. 

“Oh,” you manage.

“She’s a lawyer, just won a big case.” He continues. There’s an edge to his voice you can’t place, which makes you uncomfortable. You used to know his voice better.

“That’s awesome!” There’s a little too much enthusiasm in your response, and you try to dial it back a bit. “That’s so great. Good for her. I should let you get back to her, then.”

“Well, uh. What did you want to talk about?” Oh. Right. You’d asked if he could talk. 

“Oh, god, it’s stupid, I’m really sorry. I’m briefing my strategy at the kickoff on Monday…” 

“That’s great!” Marcus’ voice is filled with genuine warmth and excitement and you can’t help but smile.

“Yeah, except I’m shitting myself over here,” you try to chuckle. “I know these DEA guys are going to grill me and I want to have an answer to every question.” 

“You’re going to blow them away, I know it.” His words make you smile a bit. Marcus has always had unwavering confidence in you.

“Thanks, Marcus.” You try and fail to mask the tinge of defeat in your voice as you pour another large glass of wine. It’s your pity party, and you’ll drink if you want to. 

“Listen, how about I–” He’s cut off by a woman calling his name in the distance. That must be the successful lawyer girlfriend. She probably looks like Heidi Klum.

“I better let you go, I’ve already taken up enough of your time.” The words rush from your mouth. “Thanks again for calling – oh, and congrats to your girlfriend.” 

“Oh, okay. Well, if you need anything…”

“For sure.” Your false air of confidence is transparent. “Thanks, Marcus. Goodnight.” You hang up a little too quickly and take a hefty gulp of wine. 

Marcus has a girlfriend. Of course he has a girlfriend, he’s a total 10. If you’d just been able to get your head out of your ass back in D.C. – no, you won’t let yourself go down that road; not tonight. You’ve got way too much to do before you meet with Javi.

Work is a welcome distraction now, and you find yourself laser focused. By the time the glass of wine is done, your mind is too tired and fuzzy to be productive. You decide to pack it in for the night and get started again bright and early so you’ll have something halfway decent to bring to the office. 

You brush your teeth, down a full glass of water, and climb into bed with your wine-soaked brain swimming with thoughts of the two phone calls you experienced this evening. Javi’s call may have been totally unexpected, and you are resolved not to read too much into it, but Marcus’ led your mind back down memory lane to your last face-to-face conversation. You fall asleep thinking of how things might have been a bit different if you’d only been brave enough to stay.

~~~

Washington, D.C. 6 Months Ago

“Good girl,” he rasps. “My good fucking girl.” He kisses your forehead and temple, then presses his lips in a trail down to the crook in your neck where he rests and catches his breath. 

“Thank you, Sir,” you whisper breathlessly. 

“I should be the one thanking you,” Marcus says softly into your hair. “You did so well for me.” As you begin to regain the strength in your legs, he runs a hand across your cheek and cups it, kissing you gently. His other hand trails featherlight touches across your breasts, then tweaks a nipple making you gasp. 

“Do you still want my cum?” This makes you clench around him with a moan, and he smiles. “I’ll take that as a yes.” 

Slowly, he pulls out of you with a small groan, making sure you’re steady enough on your feet before letting go of your waist. 

He removes his shirt entirely and reaches for the chair nearby where his coat and tie are draped across the back. Laying his shirt on the seat, he sits and opens his arms, beckoning you. Walking forward, you step between his parted knees, looking hungrily at his shiny, slick-coated cock. 

You want him in your mouth. You want to clean your cum from his cock and feel his hardness slide against your tongue until it hits the back of your throat. Saliva is already pooling in your mouth at the thought. But you know you have to ask permission first. 

“Sir, can I please suck your cock?” Marcus lets out a hungry groan and you lick your lips when his cock twitches in response. You start to go down on your knees when Marcus stops you. 

“Sweetheart, I would love to feel your mouth, especially now. But I can’t let you kneel on this hard floor. My good girl doesn’t deserve that.” He takes your face in his hands and kisses you sweetly.

“Besides,” he cradles your cheeks until you meet his eyes, “I want you riding my cock so I can watch your face when I finally fill you with my cum.” Smiling, you straddle his lap obediently, eager to have him back inside you, however you can have him. 

Marcus holds his cock to line it up at your entrance once again. Audible sighs pass both your lips as you begin to lower yourself down onto him. Marcus hisses between his teeth from the heightened sensitivity of being so hard, still so close to his own finish. 

“God, yes,” Marcus whispers when he’s fully sheathed inside you. “This isn’t going to take long, baby.” 

An electric sort of thrill fills you at how close Marcus is, his orgasm now in your hands. Rocking your hips experimentally, you search to find the best way to move together on the chair. Hands on his shoulders to steady your movements, you begin moving up and down on his cock, your arousal making the glide easy. 

“That’s it. That’s my good girl.” Marcus urges you on with unceasing praise, kisses your breasts and clavicle and moans against your neck. Leaning back, he looks up at you. “Fuck, sweetheart, you look incredible riding me. You’ve got this, keep going. Good girl.” 

Emboldened, you find your rhythm, and delight in the words and noises coming from Marcus’ mouth. Tilting your hips one way on the upstroke, and rolling them on the way back down, Marcus’ breath comes out in pants and grunts each time you bottom out on his dick. You watch Marcus watching you, head tilted back to look up at your face, eyes bright and shining. “Beautiful,” he whispers, as though to himself. “So beautiful, so good… So fucking perfect.”

He grabs your ass, a cheek in each hand, to support your rise and fall. Furrowing his brow, he thrusts his hips up to meet yours. He’s getting close, trying to reach that peak. On the next downstroke you press yourself to him, grinding your hips into his pelvis and he lets out a guttural noise. 

Marcus pulls you down into a passionate kiss and you moan into each other’s mouths as he ruts up again. The chair begins to creak beneath your combined weight and vigor, but you’re both too far gone to take any notice. This combination of depth and pressure is getting you perilously close to your own climax, but you desperately want him to finish with you this time.

“Please. Sir,” you gasp. “Please, I need it.”

“I’m gonna give you my cum, baby. So close. Don’t stop.” Marcus has an arm wrapped around your waist to hold you in place as he fucks up into you, his grip nearly bruising on your hip. Running his other hand up to cup the side of your face, fingers twining into your hair. “Look at me, sweetheart. I want to see that pretty face. Fuck–” he grunts, so close. “Eyes on me… Good girl.”

Gazes locked, mouths agape, you and Marcus inch closer to that razor’s edge together. The building pressure is almost too much and you struggle to keep your eyes open against its blinding power. You need him to fill your already soaked cunt. 

“Marcus, oh fuck, I’m gonna cum – Marcus-” 

A strangled cry that sounds like your name tumbles from Marcus’ mouth as he erupts, the swell and jerk of his cock being the final push you need. He’s holding you so tightly, crushing his mouth against yours as you ride out your pleasure together. Each spasm pulls your bodies together, like waves crashing over rocks, drowned out only by your blended moans. 

Panting to catch your breath, Marcus sprinkles feather-light kisses along your brow, beaded with sweat from exertion. As you slowly come down, you begin to shiver a bit – probably from both the adrenaline and the cool, dry air of the room. Marcus rubs his hands against your arms and back and pulls you close for warmth. 

“Good girl, I’ve got you.” He reaches behind him to pull his suit jacket off the back of the chair and drapes it over your shoulders. Perhaps it’s the intensity of the physical sensations, the comedown from such a high, or something else, but tears start to prick at the backs of your eyes. 

You’ve never experienced this amount of passion and sensuality with any other person in your life. Marcus is more than just a sex partner, he’s your lover. He’s also a friend, and a rare one at that. 

Aftercare is so important to Marcus, he never lets you rush or skip it. He sits there patiently as you recover and ride out the aftershocks, huddled against him with his cock still inside you. Marcus strokes your back and kisses your temple, whispering things too quietly to hear over the sound of your heartbeat in your ears. Breathing in tandem, you feel both your heart rates begin to co-regulate and beat together.

Eventually, and only when you feel ready, you begin to get up off his lap. 

“Good girl, nice and easy.” Marcus is a sight to behold, sitting there. His lap is soaked, his chest and neck damp with sweat, hair delightfully mussed. 

Marcus hands you your panties and you slip them on before his cum, infused with your own, can leak too much and make a bigger mess. 

Slowly, naturally, the electricity in the air begins to diffuse and a comfortable quiet takes its place. The two of you redress and straighten the evidence room, finding plenty of opportunities to smile, touch, and help each other. You even share a couple of laughs at the wet spot on Marcus’ shirt. 

“At least it’ll be under your jacket,” you offer, trying to smooth out the deep wrinkles in your skirt a bit more.

“Yeah, I’ll just have to figure out a way to explain it to my dry cleaner.” Marcus grins, revealing his dimple.

Marcus insists on walking you to your car and carrying the box of stuff you’d packed. He laughs at the sheer amount of office supplies you’d thrown in before leaving for the parking garage.

“I’m loving the silent protest, but do you really need three staplers?” 

“The patriarchy has a lot of paperwork,” you shrug innocently and press the unlock button on your key fob. 

Marcus secures your loot in the backseat and turns to face you before you get in and drive away. His shoulders have noticeably slumped and there’s a sad half-smile on his face. You step into his open arms and he envelopes you in a warm embrace, kissing the top of your head. The prickles have come back to your eyes and you burrow into his shoulder and neck even deeper, trying to memorize his scent.

He mumbles something, but you can’t hear him, just feel the rumble in his chest. You pull back without unlocking your arms from his torso, “What did you say?”

“I said ‘I’m going to miss you,’” Marcus repeats, tucking an errant lock of hair behind your ear. His face goes blurry and you quickly blink back the tears threatening to form. 

“I’m going to miss you too, Marcus.” 

He leans down to kiss you, but you shy away and look around nervously out of habit. Marcus grabs your face and plants his lips on yours, kissing you with determination. You sink into him with a sigh, and he deepens the kiss, caressing your tongue with his own. The kiss builds until you both have to break away for breath. 

You get a naughty idea and bite your lip, glancing around. “Hang on, I want to give you something. Keep an eye out.” Hidden from view by your open car door and Marcus’ tall form, you discreetly pull your panties off from under your skirt and tuck them into the pocket of his suit jacket. 

“A memento,” you say with a wink and he kisses you again.

“It’ll keep me warm on cold nights,” he teases, with a cheeky lift of his brow. 

 The somber mood returns, and the two of you stand there quietly again, neither of you ready to say goodbye just yet. 

Finally, Marcus takes a big breath and speaks. “I…” he falters, and has to clear his throat. “I don’t know if I’m going to get another chance to say this, and I’m going to regret it forever if I let you leave without saying anything.” 

His words come out quickly, but his voice is thick with emotion. 

“You shouldn’t go. I mean, I don’t want you to go. You won’t talk about why you’re leaving, but I get it – I do, even if you think I don’t.” You have to look away, and swipe harshly at the tears beginning to spill over. 

Marcus gently cups your face and thumbs away one tear, kisses another off your cheek. Your throat constricts, and you can’t find the words you’d say to stop him if you could. He keeps speaking, every word breaking your heart a little bit more. 

“I really think that there's something special here, with us, and I–” His voice breaks, and you see emotion swimming in his eyes. You cover his hand with yours, and turn your face into his palm, placing a kiss there. 

Tears are falling freely from your eyes now, and there’s a deep, aching part of you that needs to hear what he has to say, even if it kills you. 

“I care about you. Very much.” He meets your eyes as he says this. “I don’t expect you to feel the same–” 

Rising up on your toes, you quickly seal his lips with a bruising kiss. You and Marcus cling to each other in a crushing embrace. 

“Please,” you say against his lips, kissing him again. “Please, don’t–,” another kiss. A sob breaks loose from your throat. “I can’t–”

“I know,” Marcus whispers, ghosting his lips across your cheek, temple, forehead.

“I have to go.”

“I know,” he presses his forehead to yours. “I know.”

Pulling back, you can’t tell if the wetness shining on Marcus’ cheeks is from your tears, or his own. His arms remain locked around you, holding you to him.

“I have to go,” you repeat in a hushed tone. Marcus nods and presses his lips to your forehead one last time. 

“Goodbye, Marcus.” Without looking at his face again, you turn away, breaking free of his warmth.

You manage to get in your car and drive a full block before you finally break down.

Next Chapter || SeñoraBond's Masterlist

Additional Author’s Note: I am so thrilled at all the folks who have liked this story and that I get to thot thotfully with you fine folks. Thank you so much to those who have commented, reblogged, and recc’d my fic! I don’t think this has gotten enough traction to warrant a taglist, but I’m more than happy to tag anybody going forward as I post subsequent chapters! Just send me a DM. 

As always, I would love-love-love to know what you think. I really want to become a better writer, so any and all feedback is welcome! Thank you for reading! 💜

#senorabond writes #rumor has it fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal character fanfic #javi x reader x pike #javier pena x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier peña #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike

[the-likesofus]

lightning crashes

AKA the coma!buck brain rot has taken hold and is now steering the ship

the insanity that is this fic started because of this post by @deluweil

6x10 spec fic // Coma!Buck

9-1-1 on Fox | 9783 words | eddie diaz needs a hug...badly, buck is asleep for most of this, medical inaccuracies cos science is only here for the drama, major injury but he lives, angst with a happy ending, getting together

Read on AO3

The sky is illuminated as he falls, and Eddie can clearly see the outline of the engine as he's thrown backward through the air. The crack of his helmet hitting the ground echoes through his skull and reverberates down the length of his spine. The nerves in the ends of his fingers tingle with the impact and the wind is knocked out of his lungs. 

He heaves a breath and groans as he tries to roll onto his side. His head is spinning and he feels a little bit nauseous. Bobby is next to him in an instant with a hand on his shoulder and around his back, carefully leveraging Eddie to sit up straight and then pulling him to his feet. 

“Are you okay?” Bobby shouts over the thunder and the rain. Water pours over the shoulders of his turnout and Eddie can feel it sliding beneath the collar of his own coat. “Eddie? Are you hurt?”

In his daze, Eddie struggles to meet Bobby’s eyes, looking around and taking in flashes of the parking lot as lightning continues to create a strobing effect. The engine is to his right. The platform at the base of the ladder is singed and blackened not a foot from where he was standing as the arm bounces and swings precariously. 

Eddie swings his head around again, wrenching himself out of Bobby’s grasp.

“Buck? Buck!” He can’t see him. Through the rain and the wind, his eyes track the length of the aerial but Buck is nowhere to be seen. “No, no no. Buck!”

Eddie takes one stumbling step after another, every bone in his body aches and screams in tandem with the shouts climbing up his throat in desperate chorus. “Buck!” 

Absently Eddie knows that Bobby is following him as he rounds the engine, still scanning the arm of the ladder and the ground beneath it. 

There.  

Eddie scrambles across the tarmac, his chest heaving and his heart aching as he races toward the heap of limbs and kevlar. The reflective strips on Buck’s turnout catch in the next flash of lightning and the BUCKLEY printed across his back is illuminated like a beacon. He’s laying on his front with one side of his face pressed into the tarmac, his arms, and legs folded beneath him on uncomfortable angles. 

“Buck! Buck! Can you hear me?” Eddie gets to his side and sinks to his knees, choking on a sob. Buck’s eyes are open but vacant, his helmet is resting on the ground a mere five feet from his body, slowly rocking back and forth on its rounded edge. 

“Buck. Please.” He gasps and his hands shake as he reaches out for his best friend. Eddie’s hands never shake. He doesn’t panic, he does not panic. “Buck!” 

Bobby’s hands land on Eddie’s shoulders and when that isn’t enough he grips under his armpits and bodily drags Eddie backward as Hen and Chimney materialize on either side of Buck’s prone body. “Eddie, Eddie. Come on.”

“No! No, please. Buck!” He’s hysterical, he knows he’s being ridiculous. Screeching and crying are doing nothing to help Buck but something horrible has taken him over at the site. 

Bobby trips over his own feet under Eddie's dead weight and they both fall to the ground. Bobby’s arms wrap around Eddie’s shoulders like a vice and he sinks into him with a heavy, shaking sigh, exhaling out his nose as his own tears mix with the rain streaming down his cheeks. 

He whispers as if there is anyone who can hear him over the wind and the rain. Anyone. “Please.”

continue on AO3

#buddie #buddie fic #the coma!buck brain rot is real #got emotional over a tumblr post #this happened #meegs writes stuff #evan ‘buck’ buckley #eddie diaz #christopher diaz #911 fox #911 fox fic #eddie x buck #buck x eddie #THIS HAS A HAPPY ENDING I PROMISE YOU #6x10 spec fic #major character injury #coma buck #please 6b i beg of you #knock this man's ass out

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #11: The Inaction of Hope

Prompt: once bitten, twice shy || Master Post || On AO3

A/N: Spoilers for the end of Endwalker. Another follow up to "The Long Road Home" from last year's FFXIV Write.

--

Dancing Heron watched Alisaie move around the room with a mixture of wry fondness and quiet understanding. It was her second day fully conscious and the first time she had seen Alisaie, and the elezen maid moved around Heron’s hospital room with a jerky deliberation that spoke of her barely contained temper. Alisaie fluffed pillows on the chairs the Scions and their family had been using to keep vigil, folded the blanket on the cot, opened the window to let in a breeze, stomped across the room to rearrange the bottles of potions on the side table by size and color.

She said nothing, and looked at Heron not once.

Heron neither rolled her eyes nor sighed in exasperation at being ignored, as she suspected Alisaie wanted her to do. Alisaie wanted to be angry, wanted an excuse to yell and rage, wanted to vent her fear for her Warrior of Light sisters, and Heron most especially.

Finally, as Alisaie made to cross the room once more to fidget with something else rather than address the marid in the room, Heron managed to catch her baby sister’s eye. She raised an eyebrow, and her arm, and shuffled to the side to make room in the bed.

Abruptly, all the fight went out of Alisaie, slumping so suddenly that she looked like a marionette with its strings cut. She bowed her head, her bangs shadowing her eyes, and the next breath she took was deep and shaky.

But she turned abruptly on her heel, took the three steps to the side of Heron’s bed, and pulled herself up to crawl up and bury herself in Heron’s side, draping one arm very carefully over Heron’s heavily bandaged abdomen. Heron draped her arm around the elezen, tucking her close, and dropped her cheek to rest atop Alisaie’s hair.

Huh. Usually when she did this, her head was nearly at a ninety-degree angle because of their height difference. But her neck didn’t crick quite so far today; maybe Alisaie was finally getting close to that growth spurt of hers. Gods only knew she was nearly overdue for it at closing in rapidly on twenty-two. Or was it twenty-three?

“I’m still upset with you,” Alisaie bit out and drawing Heron’s attention back to the here-and-now.

“That’s fair,” Heron said. “Not asking you not to be.” And, because Alisaie needed to let this out before it festered into something ugly: “What part has you the most upset?”

“That I understand why you did it!”

Both of Heron’s eyebrows shot up, and she gently shook Alisaie. “Hey,” she said, quieting her voice. “I hear that self-loathing, none of that now.”

“We were supposed to help you,” and there are tears in Alisaie’s voice now, and that is what made Heron’s heart break. “And despite all our might and magic, the Endsinger swatted us away like gnats, and if you hadn’t used the transponders, she would have finished the job. All we could do was pray you came back, and those were the worst bells of my life.”

Heron sighs, slow and steady, and hugs Alisaie close. “The worst part about adventuring, and heroics,” she said after a long moment, “are those days when you can’t do anything. I felt like that when we were first before Ifrit, and he tempered all those other captives and left me and the others wondering why not us.

“I felt like that nearly the whole time on the First, when Synnove was the one taking on all the Lightwardens’ aether and I couldn’t do a damn thing to help her. And it’s worse when you understand why you can’t help.” Here Heron stopped to squeeze Alisaie, and her little sister sniffled. “Synnove was the best choice, rather than trying to spread it out amongst us all; she knew her aether better than of any of us knew of our own, could monitor and contain everything easier than if she was outside looking in.”

Heron lifted her cheek from the top of Alisaie’s head, but only look enough so she could prop her chin on it instead. “Those are the moments that stand out most to me, but there’s many others, especially with merc work. It’s a hard lesson, that sometimes you can’t help, or there are things you can’t guard against. All you can do, is be there for someone, or sometimes…just pray they come back.”

Alisaie sniffled again, refusing to let her tears fall, and very gently squeezed Heron back. “Still angry,” she mumbled.

“You’re allowed,” said Heron. “But not at yourself, all right? Sometimes its harder to accept you had no control in a situation, trying to give ourselves agency in hindsight. But there’s no shame in it, and what’s done is done. All we can do is hope that in the future, there will be a choice, and it’ll be better choices.”

Alisaie nodded and sighed heavily, but she was finally letting go of the tension she had been holding.

“Now,” Heron said, “can you explain to me in common what the hells Healingway is ranting about when she goes on about dynamic gastrointestinal regeneration and repair?”

“That’s a bit more Alphinaud or Y’shtola’s field since it relies heavily on conjury,” Alisaie said slowly, “but from what I gather, it’s involves harnessing lingering dynamis to—”

As Alisaie explained about how the healers were force-regrowing Heron’s innards using, to apparently quote Healing, high octane hope (what even was “high octane”), to Heron’s baffled disgust and Alisaie’s growing enthusiasm for every horrified noise Heron made, Heron caught a flash out of the corner of her eye. She tilted her head slightly, and saw a long-tailed bluebird perched on the open window sill.

She winked at it. And the bluebird winked back.

PREVIOUS || NEXT

#ffxivwrite2023 #final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #alisaie leveilleur #oc: dancing heron #dt's writing

[bubblesmaybe]

Ah ok, so here is the first chapter of When Sparks Fly! Second one is coming next literally in a few minutes but I got the link to my Ao3 where it’s gonna be posted as well!

-

Oh sleep, such a wonderful thing wouldn't you say? To be able to lay your head down on your pillow to rest, and slip off into dream land for a short moment, in a world where you could be floating in air doing day to day chores such as grooming your pet lion who sleeps on the ceiling while it purrs in tune to a melody you heard over the radio earlier that morning on the way to work like its normal without think, 'How is this all possible right now? How am I floating? Where'd this lion come from' and so on. Oh such a wonderful thing it is.

Too bad for you though, because sleep evades you like the pledge due to the itch to draw out your fantasy before it disappears like it was never there crawls throughout your being, sketching and erasing ever line until satisfied. Shading and adding some extra detail here, perfecting that one fold on the duvet covering a pair of what feels to you to be forbidden lovers melting into a tight, air lock embrace as if it would be the last contact with the other for eternity. A longing love of two very different souls who's worlds clash into something strange, yet comforting. One soul free to walk the streets in the light of day and walk in a endless crowd of their own kind, one forced to stick to the shadows of the night, leaping rooftop to rooftop to ensure their existence is kept concealed from preying eyes.

A longing sigh escapes your lips as you set you pencil down, turning you gaze from your private master piece of you and Donatello to the illuminated clock perched on your night stand, displaying the time of 4:30am into your dimly lit room. Damn..you work today from 8am to 3pm. The boys would be getting up soon to start morning training. Well, three of them most likely, Donnie was probably still up working on the truck like he has for past few nights after it received a beating of a lifetime in a face-off with the Foot at the docks from what Leo told you the last time you were down. A giggle erupts from your throat thinking about him; covered in oil no doubt while welding together the brothers battle trucks' exterior, possibly even an opened pack of pop-tarts close by. Part of you wonders if you should shot him a quick text, seeing if he's awake as you'd presume but deciding against it not wanting to wake him if he finally was getting the sleep he so badly needed, knowing well of his nasty habit of completely neglecting his bodies screaming to rest.

Your gaze moves out your window, the lights of Lower Manhattan allowing you to see your paper clear enough to draw at such an ungodly hour grabbing your attention for the time being as your thoughts race back to your more previous drawings. Some of them were of just random passers on the street going about their daily lives, one or two of just a few groupings of animals you'd seen in the park. But more than most they were of the boys; more specifically, Donatello. Some of him at different angles doing different things at his lab table or desk, gazing at his computer screens typing away while others are of him simply training or working on some new invention he brainstormed that afternoon. But slowly little by little, you began adding yourself into the picture; some drawings showing the events of your hang outs and adventures, and some a little more...sensual. Many sketches turned into simple shows of affection like a soft kiss or a hug, sharing a blanket on a cold winter evening or swimming to avoid the aggressive heat- others were what you'd imagine a heated make-out sessions with tall geek to be. The most recent although was the most sensual one yet; two bodies covered but bare otherwise of all clothing, clinging as close as physically possible as you could make it look while the pairs foreheads rested against each others. The process of creating such a drawing made your face turn a shade of red that would put Raphs' mask to shame.

After taking a moment to stretch before getting up in hopes that you'll be able to get an early start on the day, with or without sleep, a notification ping from your phone calls you from your thoughts, reaching to your nightstand to pick it up from its charge to examine the message displayed on its screen showing a text from Donnie, a smiling forming as you open the text reading it to yourself.

DonDon: Good morning, I hope you slept well! I know its probably to early for you to be up just yet but I wanted to ask if you wanted to come down later today?

Gosh he makes your heart flutter with even a simple text- he always sends you a 'Good morning' or 'Good night' and always makes a point to let you know your welcomed in the lair- whether it be to watch him and his brothers practice, accompany him while he works or just be there for company. That was one of the many reasons you'd fallen so hard for the teched out turtle, he seemed to want to be at your side as much as you wanted to be at his. One thing that ate at you though was there was the lingering feeling that maybe he might like you back, only for the fear of it just being that Donnie was just being friendly sets in to crush that hope when you subconsciously number out you insecurities before pondering that maybe...you weren't his type. Smile falling from your face your shake the thoughts from your mind and focus on sending your reply, getting a text back not even a minute later.

You: Sure! I got work today so I'll drop by later this afternoon if that's good. I'll bring some take out too for you guys- my treat! :)

DonDon: No problem, you're welcomed anytime. And I'll let then guys know, just me a text when you're ready to come down and I'll come get you and the grate.

You: Thanks D, will do! I'll talk to you soon?

DonDon: Most definitively! :)

Long story short, work was absolute hell and you couldn't be anymore great full than you are now for being able to get off an hour early. After picking up some take out on your walk to the lair, you pulled out your phone to send Donatello a text to let him know you were on your way only to find it was dead- guess that's what you get for playing that one game during lunch. Sighing you venture you way to the lair yourself, walking quickly with a new hope of being able to surprise the boys with your earlier than expected arrival to be greeted with the sound of arguing. Ain’t that lovely?

#tmnt #tmnt x reader #tmnt bayverse x reader #tmnt bayverse #donatello x reader

[nirikeehan]

heeeey happy friyay. here is a fluffuary prompt for u: “This Made Me Think of You” I'm thinkin for Thalia and Blackwall perhaps :o

Happy Friday Jay!! I combined this with another fluffy ask of yours:

and also this one from @rosella-writes

Fluff is hard, you guys.

OH AND also I took a cue from this headcanon post because it was too cute.

For @dadrunkwriting

WC: 581

---

“This made me think of you.” 

Thalia had been walking with Blackwall through the forest for some time, a companionable silence between them. His abrupt speech shook her out of a reverie. He leaned against the base of a tree, dappled sunlight cutting across his chiseled face. A miniature wooden horse stood in the center of his outstretched palm: a remarkable replica of her Marches ranger, Puck. 

“Blackwall!” Thalia gasped. “You made this.” 

“So what if I did?” The Grey Warden’s expression was difficult to read, but mirth undergirded his tone.

“You were speaking as though you just found it lying around somewhere. May I?” 

He nodded, and Thalia took it from him. She turned the statuette over in her hands. It was a little larger than a chess piece, but fit snugly in one fist. It was unpainted, but stained with a lacquer that made the polished wood shine. She ran her fingers over the tiny grooves that made out its mane, down its sturdy legs, along its proud snout. There were even tiny chisel marks that denoted its eyes. 

She looked up at Blackwall and beamed. “You have incredible talent, ser.” 

He shrugged. “It’s just something to remember me by.” 

“Why?” Thalia teased. “It’s not like you’re going anywhere.” 

As soon as she spoke, she wished she hadn’t. The light in his grey eyes dimmed. His smile, already so hard to spot under the beard, vanished. Thalia tightened her grip on the tiny horse. 

“Blackwall?” 

He cleared his throat, looked out amid the pines. “It’s dangerous work we do, my lady. It’s practical to consider the consequences of—”

She threw her arms around him, shocking them both. Blackwall broke off as she buried her face in his padded doublet. 

“It pains me when you talk like that,” Thalia mumbled. “Like something bad is definitely going to happen to you.”

He tensed against her, and she worried he would extricate himself from her. He had already rejected her once. I’m fond of you, it’s true, but we can’t let this go any further. Her heart beat painfully against her ribcage.

Instead, he placed his hands on her back and pulled her into a tight hug. She let out a small breath of surprise, and dared not move, lest she tip him off to his mistake. 

He pulled back, drawing fingers over her braided bun. He tucked a stray hair behind her ear and swallowed thickly, as if his voice was lodged in his throat. Thalia wanted to reach up, to touch his face, entwine her own fingers in his luxurious beard. Before she could, Blackwall leaned down and pressed his lips to her forehead. 

“It’s the reality of things,” he said hoarsely. “But I cherish the time we have together, fleeting as it may be.���

He moved away, leaving her with the phantom touch of his kiss and the sharp angles of the wooden horse digging into her palm. Breathing heavily, she turned to him, searching for words. He was already heading up the path to Skyhold with a purposeful stride. “Come on, now. We ought to be getting back, before it gets dark.”

Licking her lips, Thalia hurried along behind. The emotions she yearned to articulate evaporated unspoken on her tongue. It was enough, she told herself, to have these brief moments and small gestures. She was ready and willing to subsist on them, in the hopes that one day he might find himself capable of giving her more. 

#fluffuary2023 #thalia trevelyan #blackwall #blackwall x trevelyan #it's so hard to write pure fluff when it's THESE TWO UGH #i tried tho i really did #fics #dragon age drunk writing circle

[relatoseroticostaboo3]

STEPFATHER SLEEPWALKING SURPRISE (2)

By Krosis

I was eating breakfast when Dad's voice sounded from behind me.

"Hey, sweetie, how are you this morning?"

I jumped.

"Oh, sorry, didn't mean to startle you, Robyn," he said, getting some oatmeal.

I watched him as he got his breakfast ready, searching for any sign that what had happened earlier was purposeful rather than subconscious. He noticed me looking after a few minutes.

"Everything okay?" he said, concerned.

"Yeah," I said carefully, "just...sore." It was true; his cock had really stretched me.

Dad came to the table with his prepared oatmeal. "Don't overdo it, honey. Too much exercise can be bad for you too."

As he ate breakfast I excused myself and headed to school.

--

Dad was actually in his early 30's. Mom had been older, almost 40, when she died. I thought about Dad, his smile, his hugs...trying to recall all the warm familial feelings as I sat in class.

Then, unbidden, the feeling of him pressing me against the bathroom sink as he sawed his cock into me, making me cum, washed over me. My nipples instantly got hard and I could feel my pussy start to lubricate.

I had trouble concentrating on my work. I crossed my legs, rubbing my thighs together, trying to scratch "the itch". Finally, I excused myself to the washroom where I quickly rubbed one out.

--

When I got home Stacy and Dad were hugging on the couch, crying. They beckoned for me to join them. I hesitated, still remembering the last time Dad had touched me.

Seeing the confusion on their faces, I took a breath and sat on the other side of Dad, hugging him. His arm came around my shoulders as he and Stacy continued to cry.

His touch was warm and supportive; not at all sexual. If he wanted he could have moved his hand lower to my bum or slipped it around my back a little further to caress my breast and Stacy wouldn't have noticed. He did neither.

This was the real Dad, the supportive, loving man who had come into our lives so long ago to raise children not his own. I relaxed against his chest.

--

That night I awoke to a hand on my hip, pulling my butt back into the little spoon position. The big spoon, of course, was Dad, his hard cock nested between my butt cheeks and his hot breath on the back of my neck.

Not again! I thought. Why hadn't I thought to wear clothes to bed?

Dad's hand slipped between my thighs and his fingers started to caress my pussy lips and clit. In my post-sleep brain fog I realized that I had just been woken from a sexy dream where a man who looked a lot like Dad had been fucking me from behind, much like Dad had done that morning. My pussy was already wet, and once Dad noticed that he shifted his hips down, his cock slipping out from between my butt cheeks. I then felt the tip of it nudging between my pussy lips.

I tried to move my body away but his hand had returned to my hip, holding me in place. I struggled to twist, to free myself. Dad grabbed my hip tightly and used it to leverage himself up onto his knees, trapping my lower leg under him. He grabbed my upper leg and pushed the knee high. He then returned his cock head to between my vaginal lips, pushing insistently.

"Nooo..." I moaned.

His cock slipped into me, the lubrication produced during my sex dream and the leverage this new position afforded him making it easy. I gasped as my stepdad's thick, hard penis once again entered my inexperienced love channel, stretching it to accommodate. I also again felt the first stirrings of forbidden pleasure.

Dad pulled out a little - I knew better than to think he was pulling out this time - and then he pushed in again, this time hard, knocking the wind out of me. His cock rushed deep inside me, almost hurting as it stretched out the deepest parts of my vagina. Then, instead of pulling back for another thrust, he started to grind.

This was new. Because the base of his cock was right against my pussy lips, as he rotated his hips his cock angled itself deep inside of me, its head and hard shaft caressing the walls of my pussy. It slid along my inner flesh, first to the right, then upward, to the left, and then down towards my butt, which also caused the base of his cock to apply pressure to my clit. It felt incredible!

He did it again, swirling that hard dick and stirring up overwhelmingly pleasurable feelings deep inside me, where only he had touched.

I was gasping. Something was approaching, like an oncoming train, deep inside my body, the tunnel it was traveling through vibrating harder, harder.

And then I was cumming. I cried out in pleasure, my body shaking as my stepdad's incredible rotation technique gave me the greatest orgasm I'd ever experienced.

Before that orgasm finished Dad started to thrust into me. My cum was extended by the unrelenting jackhammer that my Dad's cock became. Soon he was pulling almost all the way out before jamming it home. I could swear I could feel his babymaker hitting my cervix.

Babymaker...cervix...

Mom had gotten a hysterectomy so she wouldn't have any more kids before she had even met Dad. I'd never asked, but I was pretty sure that Dad was fully functional in that department, and my healthy young body definitely was! After what happened that morning I had calculated out that today, while not the most fertile time of the month for me, was still a dangerous day in my cycle because sperm could live inside the female body for several days. I couldn't let him cum inside me!

"Cam, honey," I called back to him. "let me suck you off."

It worked again! Dad pulled out of me, leaving my vagina feeling suddenly, almost disappointingly, empty, and flopped onto his back next to me. I quickly rolled over, between his legs, and grabbed his cock.

I had done some Internet research on blowjobs, just in case this ever happened again. Using what I had learned, I licked the head of his cock while jacking the shaft with my hand. After a bit of that I opened my mouth wide and engulfed as much of it as I could. I experienced a perverse feeling of pride as I heard Dad groan in pleasure.

Research is one thing, but experience is another. While I had the know-how for a blowjob it seemed I wasn't very good at it. I couldn't get my mouth down Dad's cock very far before gagging, so half of his shaft was neglected.

After a few minutes Dad made a frustrated sound and sat up. He hooked his arms under my armpits and pulled me forward, onto his lap. I could feel the hot, hard shaft of his cock under my pussy.

"No..." I said, trying to get away.

Dad pulled my head down and started to kiss me. I was so surprised I didn't even think to stop him. His tongue snaked into my mouth. Dad was a good kisser and I had never been kissed like that before. Soon I started to return the kisses. My body felt so hot!

I felt one of Dad's hands move down between my legs. I felt the head of his cock once again nestled between my vaginal lips. We continued to kiss. My nipples were tingling. It felt good, so good.

Dad's arms encircled me tightly. I felt so safe right then. He would never hurt me, I knew. He pulled downward. I felt his cock slide into me again, easily. I gasped into his mouth. We continued kissing, more passionately this time.

[pawscreatures]

screenshots part 3

I wanted this to be its own post so I can breakdown how the scene goes since you can't play the cutscenes as a video unless the cameras at the in game angles, so these can only be taken frame by frame.

as emma's dying, snake looks away towards the ceiling before turning back to them. when she takes her finale breathes and otacon goes "emma!? emma!?" snake then turns completely away with his back to them, with a shot of his profile. 

what isn't shown in game is snake’s expression after a fade to black (well, two fade to blacks in quick succession) while his back is still to them 

after this is another fade to black to the shot of big shell as otacon’s talking about his childhood, and when the scene goes back to them snake is then turning around to face otacon and emma. his face is back to a more “maybe upset, but keeping it in” expression. seeing the comparison between the fade to blacks is night and day... and notable he only looks visibly upset while no one can see him

if I was just a bit more crazy and determined it's technically possible to take a of capture every frame and then put them together to make a video... but that person isn't me. but it Would be interesting to see his expression changes in real time because it is animated, and towards the end while he’s still anguished looking it seems like he’s shaking his head slightly

(also, my guess is that they had a vague idea of where they might want the camera be so they animated snake’s face in case they wanted to include a shot when it came time to "filming" the cinematic. why they ended up choosing not to I have no clue. I think there would have been huge added emotion to the scene since I don't think we often, if ever, see snake that upset)

edit: I've gone through almost all cutscenes with snake in them and looking at his face when the camera wouldn't be on it in game, and he's never animated if off screen unless getting from point A to B for the next shot. or any other characters either (hense the screenshots of raiden during the hug where he just stands there). 

this combined with someone's tags I saw here makes me think maybe it could be purposeful it's off screen. maybe snakes not only hiding his pain from raiden and otacon (coming from maybe sympathy and care for him and not wanting to burden him more, maybe even from guilt) but from the player as well. you don't get to play as snake because you'll never be snake [like raiden] and you don't get to see him emotionally vulnerable because he wasn't made to let it show, both literally in universe and in meta. snake has a persona he plays that's the image of what he was intended to be, but he isn't that person. he isn't an invulnerable solider who can never faulter like zero intended, like everyone sees him as, that the player sees him as. or that could be entirely unintended that it works well in that way. 

not to write a entire novel here, [too late? (;ŏ﹏ŏ)] but also: I think the reason snake is so distraught isn't because of emma dying per say, because he has no emotional attachment to her, to him her death is like any other innocent life lost on the battlefield... except it's not, because he knows how much otacon's hurting. this isn't the first time he sees him cry... but he knows him now. he cares about him. he probably knew how important seeing emma again was to otacon and could have been been a second chance to 'fix' his family. and I think That's whats hurting him so much.

#mgs #mgs2 #the document of metal gear solid 2 #mgs screenshot posting #otasune #solid snake #otacon #pawscreatures

[cynettic]

I just read Kitsune reader x yan Scaramouche's fic, may I have gotten hooked on it? and of course, it's just perfect and that's why I'm here to lose a part two with nsfw, thank you in advance and understand if you refuse:3

Link to Part 1

Summary - Taking you captive, Scaramouche continues to see you as a pillar of support. Coming back home to have you there, always. Even if it meant chaining you up.

Pairings - F!Kitsune!Reader x Yan!Scaramouche

Warnings - Smut, slight noncon ( I tried to make it as consensual as possible but its difficult with yandere themes ), fingering, electricity play

Rating - NSFW

Penpal - Ahhh I'm actually beginning to get attached to this series, might end up writing a couple more posts with different hc and stuff. I hope you liked the post though, have a great day <3

A/N - The literal definition of the ‘stoic cruel boy who’s mean to everyone but you.’ Oh well, Scaramouche is ooc af, but I did change a few things in his backstory so its supposed to make sense for this story ;) Also- since we dont know Scaramouche’s actual name, I have the reader still… yknow, call him Scaramouche. Which is kinda weird cause its his harbinger name but oh well. Also, credit to @cycletr4in for proofreading it ;3

Taglist - @cursedraiden

Stay with Me pt.2

Scaramouche was a gentle captor.

In contrast to piercing eyes and harsh stares when it came to others, he had a soft spot for you. Like the ice that encased him whole melted at your touch, craving for the warmth only you could give him. For your arms around him, to play pretend and imagine he were a child, free, fearless, unbound. A child in your arms, safe and protected.

But you were held hostage, which meant that the chains around your wrists and legs held you down and secured you. Like you were bound to one spot like you’d always been, except this time you didn't have a choice.

You weren't waiting for the Kitsune Saiguu.

Hell, you didn't even have your vision.

This brought on resentment for the dark haired boy. You hated him, you despised him for holding you down under his own judgment. But at the same time, all you saw in him was a child, a little kid who hadn't had the time to grow up. The one who refused to do so because it was his only way to survive in the type of world he lived in. Hide behind that same facade he developed as a kid, snide remarks and unrelenting cruelty.

Just to come back to your arms, sobbing because he was still that child. Sobbing because he was still hurt. Sobbing because you were still his beacon of light, of hope.

He depended on you.

And as much as you built up harsh words to use against him, they dissolved in your mouth when you saw him. His vulnerability that he saved for you and you only. A deep part of you cared for him, a little too much.

Gentle fingers brushed through the locks of Scaramouche’s hair, twirling it around and playing with the strands. It was smooth, a small detail no one would have the chance to notice from the distance he put around himself and others. A quiet hum left his lips as he leaned against your chest, eyes fluttering closed against the soothing feeling of you against him.

The lavish silk sheets were soft against your skin, pillow pushing your form to sit up. Just enough to have Scaramouche in your arms, knees on either side of his body as his head rested under your chin. His chest rose and descended, almost on beat with yours, if not just a tad slower.

You hoped he wouldn't hear the way your heart thrummed against your chest.

Warmth, his body flushed against yours, the luxury of a bed and the small candlelight on your bedside. Different from what you’d grown into just on the side of the trail, sitting for decades. Or with your time with the Kitsune Saiguu, it was never this warm, never this gentle.

But this warmth ended at your beating heart, furiously blazing. Sending an urge of adrenaline through your body, whispering ‘run’ through your veins. A primal urge that would've had your hands around Scaramouche’s neck, till he was wrangling and dead.

Till you could escape.

Hand slowly sliding down his jawline, you let your gentle fingers ghost along the soft skin of his neck. Claws outstretched and ready, sharp and pointed with a deadly intent to kill. You could end him so quickly, overturn his trust and make an escape. You deserved it, you deserved freedom. Not a delusional boy who thought himself protector against someone who’s lived decades more than him.

Jolting at the sensation of a soft grip on your wrist, you watched with idle fascination as he simply cupped your wrist in his hold. Not stopping you, not restraining you, he simply brought your hand to his face. To his lips where he pressed the softest of kisses into your palm. So heartfelt and genuine that all you could do was freeze, not even considering clawing his face.

“I love you.”

You both stayed in that position for a few moments more, silence cradling the tension that slowly dissipated from your body. Forlorn eyes watching as he shift the angle of your wrist to kiss your fingertips. He wasn't waiting for an answer, basking in these soft moments where he could hide in your hold. Like a child, forced to grow up too quickly, yearning back for his foolish naivety, yearning for the childhood he missed.

You were that childhood.

Which is why he clung to you so dearly, showed expressions he didnt know he could make, hold you captive under the impression that it was ‘right.’ What he was doing was okay.

Claws retracted, you pursued your lips, holding back the tears of frustration that burned at your eyes. You hated him, hated him for the chains on your wrists, for the disappearance of your vision that you’d given so much value to. Hated him for the warmth he still made you feel.

You hated him.

You felt like a housewife in some respects. Not with the cleaning and cooking part, and of course no children were part of the equation. But in terms of support, you stayed rooted to that room, loose chains too strong for you to break or tug holding you down. Window was too far, and you were stuck moving around the bed and the desk that sat just a little farther away.

Attempts at having your vision back or more freedom in movement had been discussed with Scaramouche, but as childlike and free as he acted with you, he was not an idiot.

“I don’t plan on underestimating you,” was his answer, head resting on the plush of your chest. “You’re strong, always were. But I have to take extremes to make sure you don’t get hurt, some people out there are stronger than you.”

You wanted to point out that there were a ton of people stronger than him as well, but you kept your mouth shut. “Can I at least see the house? I’ve been cooped up here for so long…”

And he cant say no to such an innocent request as that right?

So he unlocks the chains, the vision at his side reminding you that he was strong. You solely knew that he’d been tough as a kid, and under the intensive training he’d seemed to endure, he was much much stronger. You werent willing to give it a go and lose his trust just yet.

Not like he really trusted you anyways-

At the very least, you’d hoped to get some sort of blueprint of the house, and all you’d received was confusion and your mind making up that the house itself was a maze.

“Didnt we… just pass through here?”

Glancing at the obvious frustration on your face, Scaramouche chuckled, pulling your arm through the hallways you swear you’d seen three times prior. “Nope, most of the hallways look pretty similar. The house wasn't built for dumbasses.”

You flashed him a look and were about to make some snideish rebuttal before you saw the smirk. You knew what he was doing, trying to comfort you with casual arguments you both used to have. Consisting of you telling him to work on his people skills, and him calling you a lazy ass. Of course you missed it, but you also knew you couldn't go back to it.

And then there was the issue when you learned that he was a harbinger.

A scene you didnt want to replay in your head, when a maid burst into your room, Scaramouche acting a tad more intimate. He had an awful tendency to do that, hug your waist and press his face against the crook of your neck. Press gentle kisses down the length of your shoulder that had you shuddering. You weren't used to intimacy, and considering you’d watched him grow up, it was just weird.

Stuttering, the maid had demanded that he was requested by the Tsarista. You’d seen the fear in her eyes when Scaramouche slowly turned to her, seen the unshakable immobility of standing under his gaze.

“Do not enter.” He said, “It’s on the door.”

That was the first time you’d seen Scaramouche kill.

You hoped it’d be the last.

But you’d seen death before, so much death in the time of the Kitsune Saiguu. And for a few seconds, you found yourself fearless as you yanked against the chains, yelling at his figure at the doorway.

“Tsarista?” You snarled, standing just a few feet away from him. His hand on the girls neck, clenching around the pretty skin of hers. Disgusted, the chains that held you back from closing the gap and throwing the girl away from him were impossible to overcome. “Why the hell does she need you?!”

‘Let go,’ you wanted to say. ‘Let her go, she’s going to die.’

It worked, because the ironclad grip was gone, the maid tumbling to the ground lifelessly. You’d been too late, and now her blood was on his hands, your hands. This was your fault and you had half the self control not to thrash against the chains with sharp claws, hands on his neck.

The hard steel gaze vanished in an instant, and like he’d regained his senses, he took a few steps to you. Hands clenching to fists before loosening to fingertips brushing against his palms. Confusion, regret and guilt clouded his features like a child waiting to be reprimanded. You didn't back away, stood firm and fierce when standing and keeping a tough front.

You wanted to cry.

“Its… its a long story.” He finally stated to your question, and when you didnt budge, he took a deep breath. In control again, he closed the distance between the two of you, “I’m sorry.” And that same thrum of electricity jolted through your body, sending you into a spiral of the girls lifeless eyes and Scaramouche’s childlike eyes. Till everything went black.

You woke up with the body gone. Scaramouche was gone as well.

You learned that Scaramouche liked to have things his way. Which meant that he was always in control, always had control of every situation.

Even in those short stretches of vulnerability when he rested in your arms, he still held something over you. And you had to adapt, shift for his wishes, coddle him and stay as his beacon. Because he was stronger, and even if you’d find some way to escape, he would find you.

It was odd, and you slowly let go of the image of him as a child, you knew he was a lot older. He’d probably reached the age your body was stuck in, and with every sweet kiss he pressed to your lips, you knew he saw you as some sort of lover. But as someone who wasn't in control, you simply had to play along, just until you found some way to make your escape.

Without killing him.

_-_-_-_-_

“Strip.”

Laying on one side of the bed, your eyes jolted open at the commanding voice. Slowly, you sat up, eyeing the dim figure at the doorway. Without the help of a candle or the moonlight at the window, you could distinguish Scaramouche at the doorway, taking off the large headpiece as he flung it to the ground.

“Excuse me…?” Your voice was soft, rusty after an evening nap.

“I’ll make you feel good,” was his only answer. Slowly making his way to the bedside till he could properly face you. His eyes were soft, but there was an odd sort of determination that you hadnt seen before. You held back his stare, confusion lacing your features when he suddenly started pulling off loose decorations that hung on his clothes. Just till he unlaced the vest and slid off his shirt. “Don’t worry.” But you didnt know quite what he meant until he leaned further to you, catching you off guard.

So you yelped when his hands suddenly slammed down on your shoulders, shifting you to have access to the buttons of your top layer. He was quick when undoing them, simply swatting away at your hands when you protested and tried to pull him away. Throwing it to the edge of the room when he was done, you could only thrash in horror when he undid your trousers just as quickly, pulling them down before you could grab them back up.

“Scaramouche? Hey-”

And then he threw you down on the bed, exposing you in your undergarments in the cool air of the room. Shivers crept up your spine and bristled across your skin, and before you could curl up to at the very least hide away, you felt a tug at your chains. Fear finally settled in when you saw Scaramouche attach the chain to the bedpost, until your hand was lifted up and he began to do the same to the other.

“Wait wait wait, stop and explain what you’re-”

Only then did he pause from what he was doing, slowly looking down to properly face you. His eyes slid up and down your body, and he took a step towards you. “I’ll make you feel good,” were his only words, and you were forced to take them as all he was planning on giving you. Only when he sat on the bed next to you did you realize what he meant, hand settling on your shoulder, waiting.

“Alright,” you said slowly. Painfully, the words bit your tongue, but you were merciless against someone who had control against the situation. You could say no and you knew Scaramouche would stop, he was gentle to you and you only. And even if he’d been firm just before, you knew that he’d still stop if you asked him to.

A part of you felt thrilled to have that power over him.

Another part of you just wanted to escape.

But you didnt have any hope to do so unless you were willing too give him everything. Because he expected everything and would do anything in his power to obtain it. You’d let him fiddle around with this delusion, thinking that he had control. Until he didnt.

Which is why you didnt flinch when his hand gently slid up your stomach, cold against the warmth you’d had under the blankets. Rubbing gingerly against your skin and drawing smooth shapes over before he slowly slid over your body. His eyes seemed to glint under the darkness of the room, lust filled and wanting.

You didnt shift uncomfortably, you pretended to be that doll he expected you to be.

Just staring up at him as he slowly leaned down to kiss you. His lips felt like snowflakes on a winters day, idly swaying side to side to catch one in your mouth. Jolting like electricity when they melted into your touch, red and swollen when he pulled back. You now vividly felt every touch, as if a current flowed and static jittered in the places he briefly brushed his fingertips.

“You always take such good care of me,” he breathed, lips slowly drifting down your chin. Just past your jawline and right on your neck. The space between your head and shoulder, a soft vulnerable spot that had your lips humming at the affectionate pressure. “Its my turn to take care of you.”

And then his lips were everywhere, collarbone, shoulders, cleavage. Just until his teeth were tugging off your bra, face nuzzled in between both breasts. Both of his hands now resided on your hips, grabbing both thighs to hold them up and against him. You could feel him hard, pressing so close to your heated core.

You managed to keep your reactions in check.

Just until he slowly grinded against you, mouth on your breasts as he again pecked the soft mounds, molding his lips against them as if he could remember the texture, memorize the feel. It was just to that point that mindless sounds slipped past your lips, turning to gasps when his hands on your thighs suddenly buzzed, and static rushed in. Your legs felt weak, entire body thrumming in response to the electricity he sent jolting.

He was using his vision.

The realization was numb against his lips on your breasts, hands slowly stroking the skin of your sides, travelling up. He hovered over you for mere seconds before mashing his lips against you once more, different. He was no longer gentle, and it was with the contact on your tail that you lost all control. When he gently moved it out of the way, backing up.

You were a mess.

Not that you tried to be, you’d been doing your best not to enjoy his touch. But it was hard when your core heated up so fast, mashing both legs together in hopes he wouldn't notice. You knew he would, any action beyond that was just you trying to save your dignity.

He sat there like he was enjoying the sight, the first time you’d seen him actually portray any visual confirmation of satisfaction towards the chains. He’d drink dry any ounce of control you gave him, and it was impossible not to give him it all when you were visionless and vulnerable.

But the dignity you struggled so hard to keep shattered when his hands brushed against your inner thigh.

Fingers slowly made their way to the padded fabric of your undergarments, two digits rubbing the area slowly with expertise. You bit your lip, muffling any groan of anticipation, hiding the way your hips tried to rock back into the gesture. Desperate, oh so desperate. Hiding back the whimpers as he slowly quickened the pace of his fingers against your garments. “Archons Y/n,” he murmured. “I haven't even put anything in and you’re already a squirming mess.”

“Shut u-up,” was all you managed, trying to shift away from the pressure against your clit. But his other hand was on your hip, holding in place. You could only watch and press your thighs tightly together as he slowly slid down your panties, resuming hovering over you. Distracting you with kisses, his fingers gently stroked your core, two fingers slowly sliding into your cunt using your juices.

He was gentle when pumping both fingers in and out, too slow when you thrust your hips to meet his fingers, pleading for him to go faster. But he liked hearing your cries, slowing down when you begged, quickening when you whined and just lay there, taking it.

You shuddered the first time electricity jolted from his digits.

It was when he had three fingers that he sent the static up your body, back arching with such intensity that it even had him chuckling. “Oh? You like it that much?” And then it is like something buzzed against your body, fingers vibrating against your clit as your thighs tightened around his hand. So much that you thought you’d crush it, but it didn't matter, not with the electrifying feeling against your body. It felt so odd, so overwhelmingly good that it had your legs sliding up and down the bedside, toes curling as the static grew and you fell paralyzed to his touch.

It didn't take long with his fingers thrusting in and out of you to cum. Moaning mess when he gave you the time to breathe, teeth biting your bottom lip and then mashing against yours. Your eyes grew fuzzy and most happened in a haze, and all you knew the entire time was that you’d given yourself to him, and that it felt good. You couldn't see the childlike wonder in his eyes anymore, not the need of a beacon or of support. No, the look he shared was feral, the smile tinting his lips almost scary. But it felt too good to care, and you let yourself enjoy his ministrations.

He pulled out and suddenly his own shorts were undone, boxers thrown to the side of the room just like all your other clothing. You didn't see how big he was, just felt his hard shaft against your throbbing cunt, pussy dripping and legs open wide and tired after your first go at it.

You expected him to be gentle like he’d been with his fingers. But he pressed the tip against your core, and in one full motion he was in. Teeth grinding against each other, you held back a scream, shock coursing through your body, overwhelmed with pain and discomfort. It hurt. But it was quickly overshadowed by his movements as he slid in and out of you, slow when pulling his hips back, and rocking himself completely inside you each time. A pattern that let you catch your breath and lose it all the same. Like he was continuously having a go at hitting the deepest parts of you, pulling back before fully thrusting into you and sending waves of pleasure and pain alike.

It was expected, but you couldnt hear yourself.

Not with your mind trapped in a haze of how he felt, body still buzzing after how he’d pulsed his vision through you. And now you were at the mercy of his member, hips swaying along with his, no energy for you to rock with him and try to push him deeper.

Archons, you didn't even think he could go deeper.

But you were proven wrong again and again as he kept the steady pace, hands clawing at your ass and hips. Stabilizing himself and trying to press himself against you, as far as he could go. Slowly, his hands drifted up to your hair, playing with the soft sensation of your furry ears. Pinching and rubbing, fingers coaxing the back of them like a massage. So gentle, but it paled in comparison to the harsh treatment of his dick.

You came first, gripping the chain with your hands in an attempt to stay stable. Walls clenching around him one last time before you got your release, your moans turning into cries when he continued to thrust into you. Your body felt numb, all nerves centred on the way he pounded into you, chasing his own release.

When he did, he pressed his head into your chest, his own breaths heavy with pleasure. Not pulling out, you could only lay there helplessly as his seed filled you, warm in contrast to the electricity he’d shot up your body just earlier. He didnt pull out, and laying in your chest, your heavy breathing didnt stop until he was asleep, collapsing on you and using you as support yet again.

Taking only a minute later to regain control of your senses, you shifted uncontrollably at his member inside of you, sending waves of pleasure every time you moved. Your wrists were restrained and you were stuck in this position till morning.

Achingly, you looked down at the boy, wondering how you would ever manage to escape.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact hc #genshin impact oneshots #genshin headcanons #genshin impact scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #genshin smut #scaramouche smut #genshin fluff #smut #writing

[girl-of-many-fandoms]

Second To Her // 2

Pairing: Shang-Chi x Reader

Summary: Conversations in the dark are much better

Warnings: none

Part 1 Part 2

I have one more fic lined up to be posted and then I'll be focused solely on studying for final exams, I hope you all enjoy this one 💕

MASTERLIST

----

Y/N's POV

Groaning for what seemed to be the millionth time I threw the covers off of me and sat up on the bed. It's been a week sleeping in a bed without Shaun to keep me warm and I hate every second of it, yes the pillow he slept on faintly has his scent but I needed him

2:25am

The stupid clock next to me flashed it's angry red colour at me, mocking me. Stretching my hand to the nightstand I grabbed my phone, a smile played on my lips at the sight of my wallpaper; Shaun was hugging me from behind, both our smiles could've lit up a town

I should call him

Chewing on my bottom lip I contemplated if I should, it's late and I don't want to disturb him

Y/N just close your eyes, you'll fall asleep soon enough

Locking the device I returned it to its original spot and attempted to get some rest

------

Shang-Chi's POV

2:40am

I hate this

Sitting up against the headboard I combed my fingers through my hair; I can't take this for much longer

Well, it's technically your fault that you're not next to her

The voice in my head was right, I am the cause of my own misery. I should've told Katy that I couldn't come over that day but she was freaking out and I couldn't leave her like that

Y/N was right, over the week that we've been apart I really thought about all the times I flaked her off to run to Katy whenever we were spending time together and let me just say, it happened way more than I had initially thought

I love Y/N there's no doubt about it; she's kind, intelligent, caring, beautiful and witty, she also packs a mean punch

I miss having her next to me, hearing her voice

I'm an idiot

Call her

Picking up the device I unlocked it, her beautiful face lit up my screen. Opening my contacts, I scrolled down to her name and without any regards to the time, I called her

Please answer

----

Y/N's POV

My eyes opened at the vibrations of my phone. The device lit up and I reached for it

Shaun

Answering it I put the phone to my ear

"Hey"

"Hey"

"Sorry for waking you, I know it's late"

"You didn't wake me up, I couldn't sleep"

"Me either" there was a short pause in conversation, we both just sat there in silence listening to each other's breathing

"Shaun I-"

"I miss you Y/N"

"I miss you too"

"I have have so much to say but I can't say them over the phone, can I come over?"

"Sure"

"Okay, great I'll be there in a few minutes" I hung up and got out of bed. I missed him so much and we really need to talk about us

I made my way down the hall to the living room and turned on the television to occupy myself until he got here. I don't know why I'm feeling anxious, I've seen him so many times before, maybe it's because the last time we spoke we ended up in a screaming match

There was a jingle of keys at the front door before it opened; Shaun walked in and locked it behind him. He stood there awkwardly, visibly fighting the urge to immediately find his way over to me

"That was quick"

"Yeah, well I had to get here before you changed your mind"

I gestured for him to have a seat on the other end of the sofa and he did. He wiped his palms on the grey sweatpants he wore a couple times

"I'm going to speak, I just need you to hear me out" angling himself to face me he continued

"I'm sorry, I know it's a weak ass apology but I truly am. The things you said about me always running off to Katy was right, I hadn't noticed how often that happened until you brought it up" he paused reading me to get a sense on how to continue

"I'm sorry for not realizing what I've been doing all those times, could you forgive me?"

"You're an idiot" his frown deepened not knowing where I was going with this. Getting off the sofa I moved to stand in front of him

"It took you so long to realize what you'd been doing, can't say I'm surprised because I'm not" his eyebrows were drawn together as he waited for me to continue

"You're an idiot, yes" I straddled his lap, his hands immediately resting on my hips, his confusion melted away and a smile now sat on his face

"But you're my idiot, I forgive you but don't ever let it happen again unless she's actually in danger or something is drastically wrong" cupping his face in the palms of my hands I lovingly stared down at him

"I promise, I love you Y/N"

"I love you too"

He puckered his lips and I kissed him, I kissed him like he was the oxygen I needed to breathe. I needed this, him, I needed him. Our innocent kiss quickly turned into a heated make out session, my mouth fell open when he thrusted his hips upwards brushing his hardening member against me

As if I weighed nothing, Shaun stood up and took us to the bedroom. I left kisses along his jaw and down his neck as be laid me down on the queen sized bed

"You know, I think we were in the middle of something last time" his voice was an octave lower; he undid the buttons of the shirt of his I wore to bed

"My memory is a bit foggy, remind me"

Let's just say that he did remind me of where we left off, how beautiful I was and how much he loved me, many, many times.

----

Part 2 as requested!

@fofocuddlypooops

#shang chi smut #shang chi x reader #shang chi x y/n #shang chi imagine #shang chi #marvel imagine #marvel x oc #marvel x reader #marvel smut

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Looking for a Place to Happen

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), age gap, general stupidity.

This is dark!biker!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s lots happening in Birch and you find it all too amusing.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, Little Bones, and Fully Completely

Note: We’re starting Sam’s installment but this weekend I’ll probably only be catching up on my headcanons and drabbles because I’ve been a lazy bitch and I’m sorry to those who have been waiting.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 1: I've got a job, I explore

💀💀💀

The sleepy town of Birch was awake. 

In those last weeks, the arrival of outsiders had roused the attention of many once passive residents of the timeless territory. Those brick buildings unchanged by the tick of the clock inlaid into the old tower above the library that chimed every hour on the hour. They still stood with only chips in the mortar but the air tasted different. The frost was more bitter and the sky more grim. An omen of something no one could predict.

It was the perfect setting for a screenplay. The isolated town with its unsavoury secrets and the visitors who threatened to bring them to the surface. It was inspiring to you, to imagine what was hidden behind the stern wrinkled faces of the town elders and under the jackets of those men who wore the cut of the local club. The bikers ruled the town covertly but everyone knew that Bucky Barnes’ palm was lined with the map of Birch.

As a bystander, an unnoticed observer, just another ant in the hill, you watched from the side and amused yourself with the drama of others. It was like a soap opera or another HBO hype machine. Those things you aspired to when you could be free of this ho-hum town.

The snows added to the natural gloom of the place. The deep heaps smothered the noise and harkened back to those days of colonial settlement. Forgotten, desolate, fearful. 

You ventured down in your heavy boots that stretched to your knees and pushed your chin down into your scarf. As a child, you ran and jumped in those piles, now you were out of breath just trying to walk past them.

You stopped in the bakery that doubled as the only café, a place where the owner, Babs, tried to to intimidate the last caffeinated trends. She was always a few seasons behind but you didn’t mind so much. 

You ordered the salted caramel mocha and waited patiently as the quiet woman fought with the steaming machines. She was older than you but you’d work with her for one summer during high school, only five years ago. She had the eyes of a child still, but there was something worn in her. As if she’d been exposed to far too much in her three or so decades in that place. She was a harbinger of what you didn’t want to become.

You thanked her for your drink and set out once more into the billowing winds. Birch winters were never kind but this one was crueler than most. Your teeth chattered as you blew the steam away from the lid and hugged it with your mittened hands.

You stopped short as you heard the familiar ding of the diner door across the street. You recognised the mechanic who kept to herself and once growled at you in the grocery store. She stormed across the street, followed closely and quickly by a black-haired man you’d only seen once before. He was one of those outsiders who came to deal with the club men.

You sped up as you sensed chaos brewing and pulled out your phone as you balanced your paper cup in your other hand. You flicked your camera on just as you got to the front of the shop and the man grabbed the mechanic. You let out an ‘oop’ as she turned on him and you aimed the lens at the couple as they fell into the snow, the man’s shoes giving little traction to his steps. 

You moved closer, stunned by the scene, and kept your cell phone rolling as you found a better angle around the snowy walks. As she choked him on the ground he elbowed her and she coughed as she rolled away. She snarled as he clamoured to his feet, slipping and sliding as he marched away.

You killed the recording and watched the man cross the street again, nearly wiping out as he did and when you looked back to the mechanic, she was gone behind the clattering door. You chuckled to yourself and tucked away your cell. It was prime footage for TikTok; with a bit of editing, it would be comedy gold.

💀

You stomped up the steps of your grandmother’s house, this time through the front door as you heard her chair rocking in the front room. You usually took the stairs in the back as you paid her to live on the upper floor of the duplex. You checked in with her daily, she didn’t get out much more than the occasional trip to the grocery store when you couldn’t or you dragged her out to join you for a tea at Babs’.

“You’re late,” she grumbled as you set your cup down and unzipped your coat.

“For what?” you scoffed.

“It’s after noon and you don’t even come down to say hello? A ‘good morning, nan’,” she harrumphed.

You chuckled and hung your coat before shoving your boots over on the mat. You grabbed your mocha and leaned on the doorway as you watched her crocheting in her chair, reruns of some court show playing from the boxy television.

“I was working,” you said, “sent in some stuff for review. Hopefully not much work to be done.”

“I don’t know how you make money on that interweb,” she bemoaned, “I don’t trust it.”

“Maybe you’d trust it more if you used the Netflix subscription I got you,” you crossed your arms, “then you wouldn’t have to watch trash daytime TV.”

She shrugged and muttered under her breath. She could be crotchety but you liked her sense of humour. Your aunts and uncles never came around because they just took it as spite. You were the only one who knew how to handle the jaded old lady.

“Maybe you coulda looked out the window,” you snickered, “quite a show going on in town.”

“Hmm, what’s that?” she stilled her needles and reached for her tea stained cup.

“Just a fight. You wouldn’t believe it, that lady mechanic beat the shit--”

“Language,” she huffed.

“Anyway, she had this guy in a chokehold. It was awesome.”

“What guy?” she squinted at you over her glasses.

“I dunno. Some out of towner. Remember I told you about that burly dude hanging around the library?”

“There’s more?” she sucked on her teeth, “those bikers have never been good news and now they’re bringing in more.”

“Yeah, well, what’re you gonna do?” you sniffed as you took out your phone and rewatched the scuffle with the volume down. You shook your head and opened up your TikTok. 

“I don’t understand why you’re always on your dang phone,” your grandmother pestered.

“I’m not always on my phone,” you smiled at her smugly, “there are those time when I’m listening to you prattle on or you know, making you tea, oh, and cooking you dinner. What was it I did last week? Oh that’s right, I got Pippin out of the crawlspace.”

“I’m too old to be chasin’ that cat all around,” she huffed, “where is he anyway?”

“He’s your cat, I don’t know? Last time I saw him, I sent him back out the window for shredding my charger.”

“He knows you need to give it a rest,” she laughed to herself, “got your nose to that screen too much.”

“And what do you do, old lady? Crocheting doilies to put where exactly?”

She gave you that dry smile, the one that said watch it but carried a hint of humour still. You hit post and put your phone away as you waved off her irritation.

“Well, you know what, I sit all day at my computer, doing who knows what and you know what it got me?” you taunted, “a large mocha!” you sipped as you sat on the sofa and grabbed the remote, “and it’s paying my rent and putting bullet points on my resume.”

“Mhmm,” she scowled, “just remember, real life ain’t online. Those videos you’re always laughing at like hyena, that’s not reality. You forget it and it’ll come back and bit you. ‘Specially with those bikers.”

“Oh, nan, you know too well, don’t you? Didn’t you have a fling with one back in your hippie phase?”

“Two, actually,” she raised her brows, “I was young and stupid. Not like you, but still.”

“I love you too,” you chirped and sipped from your cup, flicking the station to Jerry Springer, “that’s more like it.”

💀

Your usual TikToks were sarcastic and dull complaints about your small town life. The response was less than pleasing but it gave you an outlet to vent. You liked to goof around and document the very specific type of weirdos that resided in Birch. But the video of the fight in the snow blew up your phone and made it difficult to ignore the buzzing as you went back up to your room to eke out the last of your captions for the ad agency.

When at last you could call your day hard-earned, you logged off and sent in your hours to the agency. Social media promotion was easy enough but the working gigs for a thousand different companies was tedious. You hoped you could build your portfolio enough to manage a single corporate page as you continued to chip away at your creative outlets.

You picked up your phone as you waited for Netflix to load on your tiny smart tv and flopped onto your bed, not two feet from your desk. You hit the icon in the upper panel of your phone and scrolled through the notifications, pausing to turn on another episode of the cable sitcom from ten years before. You snorted as you read each comment but the number under the video made your eyes round. The thing was bound to go viral.

As usual, you went down to help with supper. Pippin, the orange tabby, returned to cry at his dish and you fed him too. Your nan peered through her glasses at a crossword as she tasted the tangy pasta sauce. 

“More basil,” she snipped.

“Well, I asked if you wanted to help,” you muttered, “I think it’s good.”

“Hmmp, I need milk,” she jutted her chin out, “for my after-dinner tea.”

“You couldn’t say something like three hours ago?” you blinked.

“I could have but I didn’t,” she snickered. You rolled your eyes and she took another forkful of penne and filled in another line on her puzzle, “ah, no hurry, girlie, you know I’m patient.”

“Patient? You?” you chuckled as you took your plate and shoved it in the microwave to keep it warm. The ancient thing had a dial and the door stuck, “I’ll just go get it over with.”

“Don’t forget your mitts,” she called after you as you tramped into the front room, “it’s cold.”

You pulled on your knitted cap and matching mitts. You zipped up your parka and shoved your feet into the deep boots. You grabbed your wallet and buried it in the spacious pocket. You bounced out the front door and down the steps as the sky sent down another coat of powder for the night.

You went up White Forge Street and through the short path behind the diner that led to the main road. You glanced over at The Asp, the beacon of the dull town, and turned towards the grocer. Like anywhere in Birch, the store was outdated and stuffy. It felt like stepping into another time with the paper bags and chunky tills.

You went down the center aisle and stopped at the fridge to search through the frosted glass. Your nan only drank whole milk and the last time you carelessly grabbed skim, she whined that even Pippin wouldn’t drink it. She was particular but that was just her nature. You couldn’t say you were any less fussy in some instances.

You grabbed a jug and the door slapped closed against the worn rubber seal. You headed up the candy aisle and brushed your woolly thumb over your chin as you considered gummy bears or Reeses’ Pieces.

“Hard choice?” The deep voice jolted you.

You snatched the box of chocolate and looked over at the man in leather, his chin tucked down behind the collar as snow dusted his shoulders.

“Sure,” you said as you brushed past him.

The cut of the leather told you he was better not entertained. While you thought the men amusing, you weren’t stupid enough to engage with them. You rarely listened to your grandmother but she was wise in her own way. 

You knew a girl in highschool, she was fucking around with one of the club men in her junior year, she ended up with a baby and no support. You didn’t think he was into you that way but he could hardly have innocent intentions.

“How’s the old lady?” Clayton asked as he rung in your order at the end of the belt, you moved along with the groceries and pulled out your wallet.

“The usual, you know? She’s tryna quit again. Don’t know how long it’ll last.”

“Oh yeah? I’ll keep a carton aside for her,” he kidded as you felt your phone vibing in your back pocket.

“Don’t encourage her,” you swiped your card and punched in your pin, “although I don’t know what’s worse; the smoke or her sucking on those mints all the time.”

“Oh, it’s not the bitchin’?” he laughed.

“That, too,” you scooped up the paper bag and put your wallet away, “have a good one.”

As you came to the end of the first counter, you were nearly cut off by the club member as he swept around from till two. His own purchase of a car magazine and jerky was tucked under his arm.

“Ah, sorry,” he smiled, a sparkling smile, almost charming.

“No worries,” you continued on and he followed close behind.

“Those mitts look real warm. ‘Specially in this weather,” he said as you pushed open the door.

“Uh huh,” you kept on as your boots crunched out into the snow.

“You know where I can get a pair. Leather isn’t exactly thermal, you know?”

“These? My nan made ‘em. I’m sure Clayton got some hung up back there,” you looked across the street as you stepped up onto the ledge of snow between the sidewalk and the road.

“Am I bothering you?” he asked.

You looked at him dumbly and almost laughed in his face. You glanced back across the street then down towards The Asp.

“Sorta,” you answered.

“Make you a deal. Leave ya alone for your name.”

You eyed him. He was older than you like many of the Commandos. At least a decade, likely more than that. You chewed on your hesitation and cradled the bag more firmly against your side. His eyes strayed as he tried to see through the thick layer of your coat.

“Nah, I’m not s’posed to talk to strangers,” you said and hopped off onto the road.

You heard him behind you as he struggled to follow and as you came up to the other side, he came parallel with you and kept stride with you easily.

“I know you’re young but you’re not a kid,” he intoned, “what’s the harm in a name?”

“It’s a small town,” you stopped short of the end of White Forge, “I think I know enough about you to avoid you.”

“Oh ho, is that it? Well, I’m Sam, I’m not a stranger now, am I?”

“Not interested, Sam. Sure there’s women your own age over at the bar,” you nodded behind him.

“You wanna come see? Maybe have a drink?” he gave a crooked grin.

“You don’t give up, do you?” you shook your head, put off by his forwardness.

“Well?”

“Not tonight, Sam,” you turned around and headed down White Forge.

“Then what night?” he asked but you didn’t answer and he didn’t follow.

You turned down onto your street and refused to look back in case. It would be best not to mention the run-in to your nan, she was paranoid enough as it was. Besides, you’d forget about it by the end of next week.

#sam wilson #dark sam wilson #dark!sam wilson #sam wilson x reader #birch #series #sequel #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #looking for a place to happen #biker au #biker!au #au #marvel #mcu #captain america #avengers #tfatws #falcon #biker boys of birch

[allywritesforfun]

hey i really enjoyed your nightly routine post with wilbur? i was wondering if you could do something similar but in the morning instead?

awe my love! I'm glad that you enjoyed the nightly the routine... here is the morning routine!

{Morning Routine} Wilbur Soot x Reader

summary: you and wilbur made a nightly routine video that blew up more than you have thought, so now its time to do a morning routine!

pronouns: not mentioned

word count: 2280

trigger warnings: swearing, mention of a knife for going chop chop, this was too cute for even me to handle and it came from my hands

a/n: my god is this long! I really got carried away. I could've made this into two parts but whatevs

a/n pt 2: takes place after the “Nightly Routines” but not directly connected 

regular masterlist

wilbur masterlist

You deeply groaned as you fluttered your eyes open. This was not a great time to wake up. You really wanted another hour of sleep, but you knew you had work to get done today.

You looked behind you. You smiled at the sight of Wilbur in his sweet slumber, his arm lazily draped over your waist. Wilbur very much loved to be in bed with you. If he could, he would spend all day there, just you in his arms and some soft lofi in the background. 

That was something very rare to get. Being a streamer and musician, Wilbur was busy almost all the time and rarely took a day off. Mornings and nights were dedicated to you. However, there were times that you would stream with him, or stop by the office to give him food, but nothing was compared to waking up with him.

“Oh shit,” You whispered, “We’re supposed to do morning vlog today.”

You looked around for Wilbur’s camera, which was no where to be found. You settled on stretching over to nightstand and unplugging your phone. You looked back at Wilbur to make sure he was still sleeping. You could tell he was by the gentle raise and fall of his chest and subtle “Ah-woo”. You just knew that was the perfect way to start the vlog. You recored him for about ten seconds of him doing his ‘not really a snore but definitely something’ and giggled almost the whole way through.

You would think that after living with him for two months and the multiple sleepovers that you’ve had with him, that you would be used to it by now. But even today you still giggled just like you did when you first woke up with him. 

You snuck yourself out of bed and made your way to the kitchen. Once arrived you did the intro, “Good morning chat! It is currently about 6:30 in the morning, and as you realize, I am the only one awake. As you saw, Wilbur is still sound asleep and that how it is every morning. So we’re going to vlog our morning routine today, which I promise is way more interesting than the nightly routine vlog. So, Wilbur is literally the best person ever and deserves the world. And his world, besides me of course, is his morning coffee. So I’m going to use our Keurig to get his coffee started.” 

You stopped the recording and decided to get some of your creativity out. You weren’t musical like Wilbur and can't draw for shit, so videography was your way of being creative. You set your phone the in the corner and opened up the blind to let a little bit of light through. It still looked basic so you moved your plant to the background, which added the perfect look. You started brewing and hit record. 

While that was going, you measured out the creamer and syrup and grabbed your sippy cup for your chocolate milk. No judgement here. We all know chocolate milk tastes better in sippy cups. 

The brew came to a slow stop and you grabbed the camera, “Wasn't that a satisfactory angle chat? Now, I am more of an iced coffee person, so in the morning I have water or chocolate milk, and today is definitely a chocolate milk day.” You raised your cup to the camera and fake ‘clinked’ it, cutting the recording when it was closest to the camera. You finished up making Wilbur’s coffee and set it on the living room table. 

You looked at the time, 6:50 am, now was a good time to get Wilbur up. You always let his coffee sit out for a little bit, that way he could drink it the second that he woke up. You threw some napkins under your drinks and moved another plant over there. You wanted your place to look aesthetically pleasing, even if it was a little bit staged. You did a transition with your cup, this time now on the table.

“Okay chat, we all now mr. simpbur is a snuggler so we don't have breakfast in the kitchen, instead we share on the couch, that way we can get all of our snuggles in before he has to leave for the office. I have everything set up, normally I would prepare breakfast too, but I feel like cooking with Wilbur this morning. We’ll do this about once a week for some bonding time, so let's go get him up,” You decided to keep recording, just in case Wilbur woke up from your loss of presence. 

You creaked the door open, Wilbur was still asleep. He adjusted his body for that he was hugging a pillow, who you assumed was your replacement. You laid down next to him and just took a moment to admire him. It was moments like this that you forgot that you were internet personalities. This was you. This was Wilbur. Both of you living your life without needing to exaggerate yourself. This was Wilbur at his purest form. He was all relaxed, not even aware that he was being recorded.

You scooted closer to him and intertwined your legs with him. You brushed his bangs with the back of your hands and gently placed your lips on your forehead. He stirred a little bit, but not enough to wake him up. You took the pillow from him and wrapped your body around his, “Wilbur, my love, it's about seven, you need to get up.”

You could tell he woke up by him pulling you closer and burying his head only you neck. You gently massaged his head and twirled his curls between your fingers, “Come on Will, I got your coffee made already. We need to start breakfast.”

He shook his head and kissed your shoulder, “Mine.”

You laughed, “Yes Will, and ‘yours’ is hungry, let’s get up and eat.”

He slowly nodded and pulled you closer, “Mmmm... I love you.”

“I love you too, simpbur.”

He snapped his head up at the nickname and saw the camera, “Fuck-that’s today?”

You giggled and detached yourself from, “Say good morning to chat.”

He shook his head and buried it in his pillow out of embarrassment. You stop recording and put your phone on the stand. Just seeing Wilbur all flustered was enough to make you go back to bed. You laid back down with him and pulled him on top of you.

“We’re gonna have to re-record that part,” Wilbur mentioned.

You rubbed his cheek with your thumb, which he happily leaned into, “No bubs, we gotta keep it in. It was a very cute moment.”

He shook his head aggressively, “No! That was embarrassing!”

“Too bad, it’s on my phone so I get to chose what goes in.”

He huffed and grabbed your hand, accepting defeat, “You said you made my coffee?”

You two got up and sat down on the couch. Wilbur took you into his arms the second he took his first sip, his personal way of saying ‘thank you, you’re the best person to ever exist’. 

“What are you feeling for breakfast?” You asked.

“You,” Wilbur joked, kissing your temple. 

You gently pushed him, “No actually, I really want yogurt, so pick something that goes well with that.”

“Can we just make a fruit plate?”

You excitedly nodded, if it wasn't for Wilbur, you would not be eating healthy. He really made sure that you were going to live as long as he did. Neither of you could live without the other. If something crazy didn't happen to you, you were going to die from a broken heart.

Wilbur grabbed your phone and started recording, “So um, good morning chat, I’ve had some coffee and more awake now. What you just saw- no you fucking didn't. We’re on the sofa right now and we decided on a fruit plate with yogurt this morning, trying to be a little healthier considering we had ice cream at one am last night. So we’re gonna make that off camera, because if you guys get us to six million subs, we’ll do a cooking stream!”

“Oh we are now?” You questioned. “I was never told about this.”

Wilbur laughed and kissed your temple, “Well you know now, that's good enough innit?”

You shook your head and placed your hand over the camera, Wilbur stopped the recording. You go the fruit out while Wilbur prepared the sink for rinsing and knives for chopping. 

You made the plate look all nice and took it back to the couch. Wilbur placed his arm back over you and grabbed the remote with is free hand while you centered your phone.

“Okay chat, we’re gonna eat and watch tv for a bit, then you're gonna get ready with us. Wilbur has a test shoot at the office today, so we gotta make him look all pretty and obviously personal hygiene is a must... so yeah, brb.”

You two set up another game show to watch, it sorta became your go to show. Especially because there was no storyline and you could talk when you wanted. This was a pretty chill morning, you two enjoyed each other's presence. 

When you finished up, Wilbur took the dishes and you went to the bathroom and cleaned up a little bit. You heard Wilbur go into his closet, so you started recording, “Okay chat, last thing we do before he leaves is actually get ready. Wilbur is getting changed right now so I’m gonna brush my hair out. I can get a little aggressive with the snarls and Wilbur always thinks I'm ripping my hair out so I always do it when he's not around to make sure he doesn't get worried.”

You set the phone in the corner and set it up to record a time lapse. You heard off in distance some light pop type of music, so you knew that Wilbur got his speaker out.

“Are you playing copyrighted music?” You called.

“It’s released Lovejoy!”

You smiled, you always got giddy seeing how happy Wilbur was able to make himself with his own music. You set your brush down and started to wet your toothbrush, Wilbur slid into frame, already jamming out to his own music.

You covered your mouth with your hand stifled your laughter. Wilbur laughed with you and tugged on your waist, trying to get you to dance with him. You aggressively shook your head no, you hated dancing. You would think by now that you would be used to Wilbur and his random dance breaks, but you never came around. 

You looked down in shame as Wilbur attempted to get you to spin around. Once you made it clear that you were not in the mood to dance, Wilbur turned down the music and waddle over to the counter.

You grabbed the camera, “If someone wants a very tall British man, you can come get him. Warning: not fun dance outbreaks.”

“Oh come on now, y/n!” Wilbur wrapped his arms around your waist and placed his head on yours, “Stop pretending like you don't like to dance.” “You know I hate dancing,” You reminded him.

“Well chat, apparently I’m not allowed to have any fun in the morning? But anyway, that was a joke, but- we do really have to get ready. Should we do this Disney Channel style?”

You laughed and shook your head, “No, I think I just want to make sure you don't miss your meeting.”

“That’s at nine! We have time! Please let me have fun with you! It’s going to be such a stressful day!” He pouted with the cutest puppy dogs eyes.

There was no way that you could say no to him, “Alright, what fun we having?”

Wilbur said nothing and prepared his toothbrush like yours, “Last one to finish brushing their teeth has to do the dishes tonight.”

You hated dishes. You were winning this one. You didn't even wait for a countdown. You instantly grabbed your toothbrush and turned on the water with lightening speed. 

“What?!” Wilbur yelled. “That’s not fair!”

You did your best to bump him away, but it literally did nothing. Both of you were laughing very hard but Wilbur quickly caught up. You both fought with your hands, trying to cup a decent amount water. You both managed to get the water into your mouth and you turned to face Wilbur, it came down to who could rinse the fastest. You two just stared at each other, wishing the water around. You were dead serious. You were not doing the dishes tonight. Wilbur kept flaunting his hands around trying get himself to go faster, which ended up in him completely breaking out in laughter and spitting all over your face. It took you by surprise and all that you could you do was laugh to yourself, you eventually spit the water out in the sink, raising your hands in victory. 

“I am so sorry, love!” Wilbur took your hand and guided you into his arms, gently running his hand up and down your back, “I didn't think that would be that hilarious.” “It’s okay,” You laughed and looked back in the mirror. You were completely drenched shoulder up, “It was fun. Better to happen to me than you, you look really nice today for the shoot.” “Thank you,” Wilbur blushed and turned you around, “I think that is enough recording for today. All that we have left to do is leave so... thank you for watching! Subscribe now and remember, cooking stream at six mil! Bye guys!”

#wilbur #Wilbur x reader #wilbur soot #Wilbur soot x reader #mcyt #YouTube #vlog #mcyt x reader #my god is this fucking cute #fluff #cute #dsmp #dsmp x reader

[lightsovermonaco]

Body Shots (Pierre Gasly)

Inspired by (and beta read) by the amazing @limp-wrist-max​ thank you Mea! 

Masterlist

Word count: 3.5k

Recommended song: “Lucky You” by Sim Dane

Vacationing in Milan had its perks. Fine dining, luxury stores that were prime for window shopping, and the proximity to your best friend, to name a few.

When you'd touched down in Milan you had had no intentions of visiting Pierre. You had just finished your exams for your summer class and had a week before the next semester started up, so you had simply booked the cheapest ticket and boarded a plane. 

The intent had been to have some good wine, good food and unwind. Pierre saw your Instagram story minutes after you posted it and recognized the bakery you stopped at for lunch. And once he found out you were only a few minutes away from that weekend's grand prix, he had ideas that didn't involve you reading a novel all day.

Pierre had insisted that a last minute cancelation by a family friend had left a paddock pass unclaimed and had suggested you take it.

"You're my best friend, it'll be fun to have you experience a weekend through my eyes for once instead of sitting in the stands. Come visit me."

Something in the inflection of his voice made the simple request rub you raw. He missed you. It had been months since your last get together and you couldn't blame him. The last year had been rough for him and he  rarely had anyone physically at his side to help him through it.

Inviting you instead of one of his parents was about more than your current proximity to the track. He hadn't missed a beat in asking you, not hesitating to consider anyone else being with him this weekend.

Your stomach had turned as you climbed in a cab Sunday morning, not out of fear of something going wrong but because of the nagging feeling that something was about to change.

You'd known Pierre since you were kids. Your brother had raced in karting before pursuing another dream, but in the few short years you'd hung around European tracks you had managed to forge a bond with one of your brother's rivals. That friendship carried on regardless of the distance that separated you, kept alive by visits in the off season and once a year trips to the racetrack at Silverstone.

Pierre met you at the gates and you had barely seen him since.

A decent qualifying session saw the Frenchman start P10 on Sunday's race. He didn't hide the fact that he was disappointed, but come time for his final meeting with the team you'd never guess he was anything but ecstatic.

You had to be conscious about your mouth hanging open when Pierre stepped into the garage in his fireproofs with his suit half undone. The tuft of blond hair peeking through his backwards cap floats on an invisible breeze and he bounces on his toes. His brow furrows when he is handed a data sheet, listening intently to what the engineer points out.

Butterflies riot in your stomach when Pierre catches you staring and winks. You pray he writes the blush on your cheeks off as the heat and he must, because he raises his eyebrows and flexes a bit.

You laugh to cover the way you want to do nothing but strip him out of that tight fitted white shirt. Your crush was getting out of hand. Pierre's shameless, friendly flirting only escalated matters.

You told yourself it was nothing. He was like this with every girl he met, making a fool of himself to earn a laugh. You were no different, except maybe that you were a constant where most other women only got to enjoy his playful personality for a short time.

You're treated to a few long minutes of watching Pierre prep to climb into the car before he's heading out on track to line up at the grid. 

The race starts off fine, Pierre's pace is better than expected. One of the Haas's breaks down at the pit entry and Pierre's strategist decides to bring him in for a fresh set of tires. A kiss seems like the proper reward for their stroke of brilliance, which affords Pierre the advantage when the pits close soon after. 

Restarting on lap 28 is nail biting. Hamilton, Stroll, and Pierre make up the podium places. The entire garage gasps when Stroll goes wide at turn four. Hamilton serves his penalty and Pierre inherits the lead. Sainz jumps on the opportunity to attack.

Pierre defends brilliantly until the final lap. The team erupts when he crosses the line first, bringing home the win.

Red, white and green confetti sticks to his skin as he sprays the champagne over all of you. In the heat of it all, Pierre sits on that top step and shakes his head. You already know that the photos of him being snapped from all angles will be gorgeous, the sun shining down on the first French grand prix winner in decades.

A legend in the minds of his people and in yours.

You could scarcely believe it yourself. Your best friend had finally, after years of being pushed down, won a grand prix at the temple of speed. Red Bull had been wrong, just as you'd insisted when Pierre cried over losing his seat and his friend in one weekend. But god, did Pierre rise above it all.

Pierre catches your gaze just before he leaves the podium. A lifetime of emotion swirls around him like an enigma, begging you to find out what it was hiding. Your wave is barely more than a lift of your hand but Pierre notes it nonetheless, tipping his trophy in your direction.

You wait patiently on the sidelines as Pierre poses for pictures with his team on and off the track. His attention constantly falls on you, his grin widening each time he sees you tucked under the arm of an enthusiastic mechanic or crew member. Alpha Tauri was a family and you were an honorary member thanks to your connection to their driver.

An action packed hour of cameras passes before Pierre is able to break away. As soon as he's given the go ahead he passes his trophy off and marching to you. You're both practically running by the time you meet in the middle. You crash into him and he lifts you off your feet in a crushing hug.

"You did it," you whisper, overwhelmed by his success now that you've gotten the chance to celebrate with him. "I'm so proud of you."

Pierre laughs as he sets you on your feet. His smile is wider than you've ever seen it and you're sure his cheeks must be sore.

"Wish they allowed us to bring a friend up there," Pierre says softly, a smile melting into a sly smirk. "Seeing you doused in champagne is an image I wouldn't forget."

You shake your head, caught up in his ceaseless flirting. He had no idea that his honeyed words and gentle touches lit something inside of you, rattling your brain and making it impossible to form a coherent sentence. Instead you snatch the black and gold Pirelli cap off his head and place it on your own, earning you a peal of laughter.

"Looks better on you anyway." Pierre runs a hand through his sweaty, champagne doused hair, leaving bits sticking up at odd angles.

Someone calls Pierre's name, far enough away that there's no rush. Pierre's hands remain planted on your waist and yours stay wrapped around his neck. By the way his bright blue eyes bore into yours, you swear he's thinking the same thing you are.

"Thank you for believing in me," he murmurs, gaze falling to your lips.

"I knew it was just a matter of time," you tell him, inching up on your tiptoes. Tempted by his win, you want to ruin the best friendship you've ever had. You want to discover if the lips you spend far too much time dreaming about felt as soft as they looked. You want to know how it feels to be lost in Pierre, newly minted race winner, and find out just how he dealt with the adrenaline and euphoria of his incredible drive.

"Well done mate!"

Max Verstappen startles the two of you apart. You take a healthy step back and drop your gaze to the ground to hide your burning cheeks.

"Thanks." Pierre accepts the Dutchman's embrace and claps him on the back. "Sucks I didn't get to fight you for it."

"There will be more chances in the future. And I didn't expect to see you here, that's a nice surprise." Max knocks you with his shoulder, tipping you off balance. On instinct you latch onto Pierre's arm to steady yourself. You wait a heartbeat too long to remove your hand and both of you find anywhere to look but each other.

"So where's the party?" You ask, searching for a distraction from the way your palm still burns.

"Definitely not at Red Bull." Max shudders and you laugh because that's what you do when someone is being over dramatic. It rings hollow in your ears.

"I hear there's a few guys with adjoining rooms at the hotel who bought plenty of booze," Pierre says. "You and Dan wanna come by?"

"Is that really a question?" Max grins, already typing out a text as Pierre feeds him the details.

**********

"You should do body shots," Max suggests, which earns a roaring laugh from Daniel and a half hearted one from Pierre.

"I don't think so," Pierre says, "there's no one here I trust enough to let that happen."

"Not even your best friend?" Max gestures to you and shoots you a wink when Pierre glances over. "I think she's trustworthy."

"No thanks." Pierre holds up his plastic cup and salutes Max before draining it to the dregs.

Pierre's immediate refusal hurt more than it probably should have. You hadn't expected him to jump at the offer but having him shut the idea down so thoroughly hadn't been what you wanted either.

Max notes your pouty lower lip and speaks on your behalf. "Come on mate," Max insists. "You just won your first prix, live a little! It's not like you've got anything to lose, she's your best friend."

"That's exactly why-"

"Shut up, it would be fun! Wouldn't it?" Max says this last bit to you, a wild grin on his face.

Max expects you to turn red and object. That was his end goal. But what the Dutchman hadn't counted on was how drunk you already were on Pierre. On his smile. On his bright blue eyes, swirling in the aftermath of his unlikely triumph. And mostly on the not-so-sneaky way he glances at you every few minutes.

"Let's do it."

Pierre blinks, searching your face for any sign of distress. "Wait, are you serious?"

"Yeah, why not?" You shrug, suddenly fearing that you'd read him wrong and he really was against this whole thing. "Unless you don't want to-"

"Get the vodka," Pierre interrupts, nodding to Max though his stare remains pinned on you. Pierre latches onto your wrist and drags you around the room until he finds a table long and sturdy enough for his liking. 

"This a good height for you?"

The coffee table is low enough that you'd have to kneel. Luckily getting on your knees isn't something you'd mind doing for Pierre. You lick your lips without thinking. Pierre's pupils blow wide, black swallowing the swirling oceans of blue.

"Sure," is all you manage.

"Good." Apparently neither of you were able to focus on speech. You work together to clear the empty plastic cups and used napkins from the surface. Your hands brush when you both reach for the last cup and you just catch the way Pierre's breath hitches.

You and Pierre have danced this dance since you were teenagers. Each of you knows the steps by heart. The only difference is tonight neither of you were poised to bow out before the final lift.

"Beep beep, bitches!" You yank your hand away when Max's shout reaches you. Pierre's hand lingers in front of him,  outstretched as if your palm remained grazing his thumb. 

Max holds the bottle of vodka over his head as he wades through the crowd. "You're all about to be very, very entertained."

"Where's your chaperone?" You ask Max, searching for Daniel in the low lighting. You press your palm to your thigh, dissipating Pierre's lingering heat.

The Dutchman waves you off. "Went to get us more drinks. Pierre, isn't it kinda hard to do body shots if you're still fully clothed?"

"Who says I'm the one getting undressed?"

Max's grin dimples his flushed cheeks. "I mean you can ask her to take her shirt off in front of all these people if you want to."

"No," Pierre responds quickly. "Fine. I'll do it."

When Pierre strips off his shirt he gets more than a few whistles from men and women alike. That tended to happen when someone was built like a Greek fucking god, you supposed. Whoever voted for People Magazine's "Sexiest Man Alive" and decided on Michael B. Jordan had clearly never laid eyes on Pierre, with his bronzed skin, endless expanses of muscle, and brilliant cheshire grin.

Michael B. Jordan who?

Pierre hands the team branded shirt off and lays out on the table. He pillows an arm under his head, bare bicep flexed as he gets comfortable. Leaning in to kiss along the hard muscle was out of the question, however tempting it was.

Pierre looks up expectantly. "You coming?" 

Holy shit, this was actually happening.

"Yeah, I'm coming." You sink to your knees and Pierre laughs.

"Up here." He pats his thigh with his free hand and beacons you forward. "Please."

Screw it, you've already thrown your friendship out the window. This night ended either in heartbreak or awkwardness, might as well get your money's worth.

A few whoops break out above the music. The bassline isn't the only thing thundering in your chest as you straddle Pierre's thighs, hands braced on his chest.

"Okay?" Pierre whispers for your ears only. You nod with what you hope is a charming smile.

"Alright move," Max says, shooing you back until you're resting on your haunches. Max flicks the cap off the bottle and you grab it to take a long sip.

Max gapes at you and you wipe a hand over your mouth. "Close your mouth, you'll catch flies."

Pierre's thighs tense beneath you in response to your bold declaration. Dozens of Pierre's friends and team members gather around. For all you care, Pierre is the only person in the room.

"Last chance to back out," Max warns. You're too busy tracking the drop of liquid that falls from the neck of the bottle to splash onto the crease of Pierre's abs to bother responding. 

"Pour it out." Pierre's chest sinks with his demand, doing nothing but sparking your imagination, creating images of him heaving beneath you. You'd sell your soul to recreate the way you're currently poised above Pierre's hips with a little less clothing and no audience.

Max gives up hope on you replying and dribbles the alcohol up Pierre's abdomen, stopping just below his pecks.

"Have at 'er-"

Your tongue is on Pierre's skin before Max has finished his sentence. You feel the muscle tense beneath your tongue, going rigid at the first contact. The burn of the vodka doesn't even register as you lap it up, catching the drips that fall over his sides. 

You aren't sure either of you is breathing. Salty sweat mingles with the sharpness of the alcohol, an afterthought barely worth mentioning.

Blame the liquid courage or blame the high from Pierre's win, but you were confident Pierre was enjoying this just as much as you. 

Planting a hand on Pierre's hip, you steal a glance up at him to find him locked on you. You take that as permission to continue, dragging your tongue flat up his stomach and continuing well past where the vodka had been poured. Up between his pecks, over the curve of his throat that bobs beneath your tongue, over his chin until you meet his lips, already parted and waiting. 

Neither of you pay the shouts cresting around you any heed. You've both waited too long for this, endured too many almosts and what ifs to let the opportunity slip through your fingers. Your sticky hands cradle Pierre's face, angling it in a way that's to your liking so you can explore more of his mouth. He tastes like whiskey and mint, the juxtaposition of hot and cold scattering your thoughts. One of Pierre's hands finds the nape of your neck when you gasp for air, refusing to let you end the moment.

And it's pure, unending bliss that floods your veins when he nips at your lower lip, swollen and surely reddened from his kiss. His thumb sweeps across the back of your neck while you both fight to catch the breath currently evading you.

Daydreams didn't hold a candle to the real thing. One taste and you were addicted, craving as much as Pierre was willing to give.  

"Hey," he murmurs, the corners of his mouth tugging up in a stupidly gorgeous smile.

"That was nice," you tease, tangling your fingers in the silky blond strands of his hair. "I wouldn't be opposed to doing it again."

"Me too. Maybe somewhere where it's just us though. I wouldn't want to scandalize my team any further." You manage to steal another sweet peck before Max hauls you off Pierre.

"Fucking finally," Daniel says, clapping when you're upright again. "Do you know how long I've been trying to orchestrate this? The two of you really are dumber than a box of rocks. I can't believe all it took was Max suggesting body shots to get you two to kiss."

The arm that wraps around your waist feels right. Pierre hasn't hugged you like this before, with his chin resting on your shoulder and his nose nuzzling your neck, but it already feels like home.

Pierre ignores Max completely in favor of pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear. "Why don't we go back to my room? I'll pour more alcohol on myself if that's what it takes to convince you."

You're just about to take him up on the offer when one of his team members taps his shoulder. He glances at them impatiently, which the man thankfully doesn't take personally.

"They want some photos with you holding your trophy," he explains, handing a shirt and the star shaped interpretation of the Italian flag to Pierre. "It will only take a few minutes,  they promised not to keep you long."

Of course everyone knew exactly where your minds were. Sanity had long since left the premises, tangled up in crisp white sheets. Pierre's entire team and half the Red Bull garage had seen what had gone down while the prix winner was sprawled on that coffee table. There would be no chance of denying it in the morning. 

And while you'd never imagined that the first time you'd kiss your best friend would be directly preceded by licking copious amounts of shitty liquor off his super-heated skin, now that you'd experienced it any other way seems forgettable.

Pierre sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "I mean, I already have my trophy, but…" your stomach lurches when you realize he means you. Pierre catches the way your mouth hangs open and he shoots you a grin before accepting the real trophy.

"You carry it," he says, not giving you much of a choice as he thrusts it into your hands. "I'm occupied."

You're about to point out that his hands are, in fact, free and that the more likely reason for insisting you carry the trophy was his usual post-race laziness when he slings an arm around your shoulders and tucks you tight to his side.

"Is this okay?" Pierre asks when you involuntarily stiffen. God, it was more than okay, it was perfect, it had just caught you by surprise. You'd only kissed him a handful of minutes ago and Pierre was already wrapped around your finger, smitten as if you'd been a couple for years.

"Yeah no, it's perfect. Simply lovely," you say quickly, stumbling over your words.

"Can I kiss you again?"

Your answer comes in the form of a hand on his chest, stopping him in his tracks. You prop the trophy on your hip and smile up at your race winner.

"You don't have to ask that ever again. My answer is always yes."

#pierre gasly #pierre gasly oneshot #pierre gasly x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 rpf #f1 #formula 1 fantasy #formula 1 fanfiction #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 fic #f1 fantasy #f1 rpf

[lubdubsworld]

Insatiable  ( Jungkook x Oc ) Chapter 9

Pairing : Jeon Jungkook x OC

Rating 18+

Genre : Vampire Au!!!! , DILF! Jungkook ! Bodyguard AU! Babysitter OC!   Age difference!!!

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3   Chapter 4 Chapter 5   Chapter 6  Chapter 7

Chapter 8 

Chapter 9

“Fuck yeah....” Jungkook’s grip on my thighs tightened, tugging me closer as he slid into me, deeper and i spluttered a bit, spitting water all over him. 

“This is a bad idea. “ i choked, blinking the water out of my eyes as the shower overhead kept pouring a whole deluge on top of us and Jungkook frowned, glancing at me in annoyance. 

“I’m going to  gag you the next time we have sex.” He grunted, pressing me into the tiled wall of the bathroom and I winced when he pulled out fully and rammed back in, clearly pissed. 

I pouted.

“I’m not good with water. “ I whined, eyes still closed because the water, Christ. It dripped into my eyes and all over my body and i couldn’t even enjoy being fucked right now because I was mortally afraid that Jungkook’s hands were going to slip, he was going to drop me on my butt and i was going to break my tailbone.

Jungkook groaned, more frustration than pleasure and gripped my ass harder, holding me up at a better angle and fucking right back into me, slide made easier both from his cum from earlier and the water. 

“Sera, sweetheart...if you could just shut up for a couple of mutes, I’ll be done. And then i swear I will never try to seduce you in the shower again. Ever.” He begged. 

 “  Why can’t you wait till i finish showering? We literally had sex ten minutes ago, why are you so thirsty? ” I glared at him. Or tried to . But I couldn’t .

Because water. 

‘Okay that’s it,” He pulled out, and I hated that sudden emptiness and this was probably going to be a problem, me being used to having him inside me all the time.

He grabbed the back of my knees, prompting me to get down. But my muscles were still a bit too weary he was dripping wet so I slid down a little, panicking. 

 I gripped his shoulders hard, and he laughed, shaking his head at the look on my face. 

“ I won’t drop you, little one. Stop looking petrified.” He chuckled, before carefully unwrapping my thighs from around his waist and lowering me to the floor. 

“You alright?” He brushed the wet hair off my face and I nodded.

“Can we at least kiss in the shower?” 

I laughed. 

“You can kiss me anywhere you want.” i reached out to press my lips against his and pulled back to smile at him, tilting my head as he ran his fingers down my neck, fingers fluttering against my pulse gently. 

“And can I drink from you?” He asked softly and i froze.

The words made me pause. 

“Jungkook...” I whispered, staring at my feet.

 I couldn’t believe he wanted to. 

He knew my secret. Knew that nothing good would come from feeding from me. That my blood in his veins would do nothing but take away his will, and the scent and taste of it all was just a facade. 

That everything about me was a lie. The innocence, the beauty , the delicate build...all a distraction from what I truly was : a dangerous, manipulative being. Someone capable of doing a lot of damage. 

“Please. When I start courting you, I want to be able to feed from you,  angel... It’s how we vampires build our bond. ...”He said gently. 

I laughed without really feeling it. 

“I would never say no to you. You know that....but... you... you know .” I couldn’t finish. 

“What do I know?” He asked gently, running his thumb across my lip. 

“ you know what my blood does to vampires. You know that I can use it against you.”

“But I also know that you  won’t.”  He said simply and I looked up at him.

“I trust you. “ He said simply.  i swallowed.

“Besides, most women would be glad that their husbands are terrified of them.” He chuckled. 

I knew he was joking but I still felt tears sting. 

I couldn’t bear the thought of Jungkook being afraid of me. 

“I won’t ever do it you know. “ I choked out. “ Take away your consent... I’ve never done it on anyone who didn’t deserve it...even with those boys in college , I was just scared that they would attack me again... That they would bite me again and i was bleeding out and I felt so cold...and i was so scared so I just did the first thing I could think of... I never meant to hurt them... I was just so scared and...” I sobbed out and his arms came around me , pulling me into a hug and I felt the tears spill over, soaking his chest as i clung to him.

“Baby...no...please don’t cry...it’s alright.. I’m sorry I shouldn’t have joked about that...I’m sorry Sera....”

“I’m not a monster. “ I whispered. “ Please don’t be scared of me Gukkie... I’d never hurt you or Joowon.... I’m not a monster.. I don’t want to be. I just.. I just wanted to be normal. It’s not my fault I’m the way i am.... ” 

Jungkook pulled back to cup my face between his hands, I bit my lips, another sob building up when I saw how wet his lashes were. 

“Baby look at me...” He smiled, a watery smile , “ I would never think that. I have never for a second considered you as a threat to me or my son.... you’re...”He shook his head, “ Darling, You’re not normal. You’re perfect.” 

“Now you’re just mocking me.” I muttered, looking away. But he made a noise of protest. 

“I’m not joking. You are easily the most generous  person I’ve ever met, Sera... You give so freely of yourself to everyone, whether they are deserving of it or not... You play with the babies , you take Joo Won out on walks and play ball with him, you do things for me even when I push you away and....God,  do you not know how amazing and kind and generous you are???!! “ He kissed me on the lips, hard , before pulling back. 

I stared at him, laughing a little but he wasn’t done.

“ I’ve never seen anyone as selfless as you. . Just the fact that you’ve given me the privilege to be here, hold you like this, tells me how kind and forgiving you are... You gave a bastard like me a chance, even though I did nothing but hurt you, over and over again.... You’re beautiful , So beautiful, my angel..In fact I was going to wait at least till we were out of the shower, but to hell with it.”

I blinked , surprised , when he grabbed a towel, wrapping it around his waist before rushing out . I grabbed my own robe, surprised, tying it together before following him out to the bedroom. 

He was fumbling in his closet and I felt my heart drop when I saw the small red box. He opened it easily pulling out a glittering necklace with a pendant and a small vial hanging off it. 

“Is that....?” I couldn’t even say it. 

“My birthstone.  It’s a sapphire. “ He smiled. “ And this vial has my blood. You put this on and anyone who comes near you will know that you’re being courted. By me. “ 

“You ... really? You mean this? You really want this?” I asked , nervous and jittery. 

He hesitated, coming closer and gently pulling my hand up . 

Jungkook placed the necklace on my hand, gently curling my fingers closed.

“Whether you put it on, or not. it’s yours. There’s no one else in this world, I would ever want to give this to.” He smiled softly. 

“How dare you!” I bawled. “ I can’t even take a picture because we’re dressed like this!!” 

He laughed. 

“So, i hope that’s a yes?” 

“Yes, you infuriatingly beautiful, beautifully infuriating bastard....! Put it on me!” 

Still laughing , he plucked the necklace off my hand and moved behind me. I smiled as he locked it in place behind my neck, pressing a small kiss to my skin. 

“Thank you. For giving me the privilege to love you.” He breathed against my skin, wrapping me in a warm hug and i closed my eyes. 

“I love you, Jeon Jungkook. You’re never getting rid of me now.” I grinned so wide my cheeks hurt. 

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

“So...I was thinking... .” I began carefully glancing at Jungkook  who stood leaning against the bed post, fiddling with his phone while I ran a brush through my hair  before tying it up into a messy ponytail. He was already  dressed in jeans and a muscle t and I was ogling his nipples through the mirror. Last night, he’d finally let me bite them. 

“Yes, princess?” He smiled indulgently, looking up and running his eyes up and down my body as usual. I loved that. Being with Jungkook had taught me a lot of things about myself. Things I never knew I could enjoy. 

Like dressing up and being looked at . I’d spent a long time hiding in the shadows, wary of who I was, of letting someone see me for what I was. Feeling beautiful was a distant dream because I just didn’t want to be someone dangerous. Didn’t want anyone to look at me and see a monster. 

But standing here, in the comfort of my own room, dressed in a strapless yellow blouse and a flowy white skirt, with his eyes on me, I felt absolutely beautiful. I fixed the necklace around my neck so it shone bright . 

“ its Saturday. Not a lot of kids at the day care center so I don’t have to be there at all... Would the five hundred year old vampire be willing to spend a day indulging the twenty one year old human’s love for cotton candy and tandem bike rides by the river?” 

Jungkook laughed. 

“That’s something Joo Won would come up with. Are the two of you trying to play me again?”

Thwarted, I gave him a pout.

“It’s a beautiful day Jungkook!! Jo o Won loves the river... i took him there with Somi when you you were holed up with my father for two weeks and he had such a good time!! “

“You know...if you’re going to be the parental figure in his life, you need to learn to better resist his puppy dog eyes.” Jungkook said drily. “ Besides, I was hoping it could just be the two of us today. Celebrate  our courtship? “

I frowned. 

“I’m not leaving Joo Won alone... He’ll be bored.” I said firmly.

“Alright...how about you ask him yourself and let him decide?” He suggested with a smile. 

I hesitated , suspicious. 

Alright.

i followed Jungkook downstairs to the huge foyer and  then past the guards to the dining room for breakfast. 

To my surprise, Joo Won sat at the table with my father, both of them dressed in identical outfits. White t shirts, white pants and shoes , digging into toast and eggs. 

“Sera !! Sera!! Grandpa Hwang is taking me fishing!!!” Joo Won seemed to be vibrating out of his skin in excitement and i glanced at Jungkook in shock.

“you planned this.” I protested.

He shrugged.

“It was actually I who suggested it. i intend to get  to know my grandson better.” My father said with a bright smile and I felt the tears sting again as he looked at me, eyes warm and happy. 

“Oh, dad...” I threw my arms around his neck, hugging him tight. 

“You’re glowing my dearest. And what do I smell?” He pulled back, eyes landing on the necklace. “ Ah. Finally plucked up the courage, have you my boy?” 

He gave Jungkook a wink and a grin. 

Jungkook bowed respectfully, smiling. 

“Excellent. Once all this distressing stuff with Tae Kwan is over, we will celebrate your betrothal in a grand manner. For now, let me take my handsome fishing partner and get out of your hair, with the promise to bring you a delicious catch for dinner tonight. Perhaps together? As a family?” My father smiled wide, eyes trained on Jungkook and he went red.

“Yes, sir.”

My father harrumphed.

“That’s not what you’re supposed to be calling me...”

I laughed as Jungkook went redder.

“Sorry.. I.. yes father. We will join you for dinner. “ He smiled a genuine smile and my father beamed at him. 

“Excellent....now sit down and let’s eat.” 

We sat next to my father and I remembered the first time my father had invited Jungkook to sit for breakfast with us. 

“Honey, would you like a drink?” i teased, fluttering my fingers against my neck and Jungkook flushed. My father guffawed heartily, highly amused. 

“Ahh yes... that was the morning i realized my daughter was a complete fool for you, Jungkook ah. “ He chuckled. 

“She told me about herself, father.” Jungkook said softly and my father looked surprised. He gave me a smile .

“It is good be honest with each other. I’m glad she did.” He said softly. “You may be overwhelmed by it, Jungkook ah. We have never seen anything like her. I haven’t encouraged her to pursue it because I’m not sure how it would affect her. Her blood is magic....but she herself isn’t. I don’t want her abilities robbing her of her life, especially because we don’t know the true extent of them.” 

I bit my lips.

‘I won’t use them .” I said softly . 

“You shouldn’t. They take a toll on your mind and I don’t ever want to see you in that condition again.” My father said firmly. 

Jungkook gave me a curious glance but I shook my head. 

“Please don’t worry about me father . I have Jungkook now. He’s going to keep me safe. Even though you no longer have to pay him for it.” I laughed. 

My father chuckled. 

We finished breakfast, with Jungkook and my father talking about business while Joo Won told me all the fishes he could name and how their feeding habit varied. He had a great love for books and his birthday was coming up in a few weeks. I had already bulk ordered a bunch of his favorite authors for him. 

When we were finally done, we walked out to the driveway where two cars stood, one to take me and Jungkook out for the day and a golf cart for my father to drive Joo Won down to the lake. 

“We’ll be home for dinner then.” Jungkook gave my father a hug and my father looked positively ecstatic at the gesture. I knew he had always loved him deeply and as Jungkook moved away to tie Joo Won’s shoe laces, I could help but snuggle up to his side. 

“you knew.” I said gently.

My father hummed, ruffling my hair affectionately. 

“Knew what , my dearest?” 

“That I would fall in love with him. You knew and that’s why you brought her here. You love him deeply and you wanted him by your side. To keep him and Joo Won safe.” 

My father smiled.

“you are perceptive. Yes... I have always regarded Jungkook as my son. i wanted him here where I could protect him. And that’s why i brought him here. And i hoped that you would both grow fond of each other....  But it wasn’t because i knew you would fall in love with him.” 

“Really?”

“Yes. It was because I knew  he�� would fall in love with  you.” 

I turned to look up at him and he pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead. 

“ I told you dearest. i will never settle for anything but your complete happiness. And I think that is with Jungkook.” His eyes shifted away and I followed his gaze to where Jungkook was kneeling in front of his son, nuzzling his hair and hugging him tight. 

“They are your family now and I am at peace.” He said softly. 

Jungkook and Joo Won straightened and moved towards us, identical grins on their faces.

“He’s all ready .” Jungkook said softly. 

“Excellent. Come then young master Jeon...let’s go see what treasures the water fairy will bring us today....” My father took Joo Won’s hand and Joo Won’s eyes went wide. Giving me one last kiss on my cheek, my father led him away. 

“The water fairy?”

“Why yes, haven’t you heard of her? come... I’ll tell you all about it.” 

I watched the pair of them walk up to the golf cart on the driveway. 

I turned back to Jungkook smiling and holding my hand out.

“Looks like You get to have me all to yourself today, Jungk-”

The gunshot rang out behind me, right as my fingers brushed Jungkook’s. 

Terror as I’d never known flooded my veins as i froze, eyes trained on Jungkook who was already moving. My fingers shook, breath ripped right out of my lung, blood turning to ice in my veins as I turned around. 

The first thing that caught my eye was the commotion across the lawn, guards subduing a man into the ground, a shot gun lying by his side. 

And as my eyes finally saw the golf cart, I saw my father, slumped over the wheel, soaked in scarlet. 

The scream that got torn out of me was feral.

 My throat in agony as I raced to the vehicle. Joo won was on the floor, between my fathers legs and I realized that he had pushed the child down, covering him with his body right before the gunshot had rang out. 

Jungkook pulled his son into his arms but I could only crawl over to my father, gripping his face as he gurgled, blood flowing out of him in a torrent. 

“Daddy!” i whimpered... “ Oh God..no... Please...” I pressed my wrist to his mouth, but he was too weak to move, the shot gun bullet at such close quarters having left too much damage to his body. i saw the carnage, the blood and the mess and I sobbed in disbelief. 

“We need to get him to the clinic...!!” Jungkook’s arms came around me , pulling me away as men crowded my father, lifting him off the seat and onto a stretcher.  

“Se....ra...” My father’s broken voice made my knees buckle and I shoved Jungkook away, rushing to his side as they wheeled him to the nearest car.

“Daddy..I’m here... I’m right here... I’m going to fix this....we’re going to fix this...you’re going to be okay... Hang on... “ i begged and he chuckled weakly another spurt of blood dribbling down his lips.

“Wanted...to walk you...down ...”He closed his eyes, “the aisle...” 

‘I sobbed out in agony, the pain so heavy and all consuming that i felt like i was being torn to shreds on the inside. 

“You are...You are going to daddy...You’re the only one who can...the only one I have... Oh please God...no...” 

“I love you...”Take care of her, Jungkook-ah...”  He said firmly, eyes blazing red as he stared over me and i realized that Jungkook had followed me, was holding me up as he watched my father die. I saw him reach out and grip my father’s hand squeezing tight. 

“They’ll be fine father. All of them. Rest easy...” Jungkook whispered and I felt my heart crack clean in two. 

 I saw my father’s  eyes grow dimmer and felt hope leave my body leaving ice cold grief in its place. . No.. No...

“Dad...” I stopped crying, shock taking over me as i instinctively realized what was happening. 

He was dying. 

My father was dying. 

His hands went up, touching my face gently. 

“My favorite... “ He smiled weakly  and  I watched the light leave his eye forever. He slumped, softly, his hands falling away and I sagged. Jungkook caught me to his body. 

“I’m so sorry angel.” i could feel the damp of his tears as he cried into my neck. 

 I felt the cold in my heart as the bond between my father an I  pulsed and burned , really bright for one split second before fading abruptly, leaving icy cold behind. 

Screams rang out from all around me, from the windows over head and from across the estate. Somewhere I heard my sister’s roar of rage .

 Somi’s screams followed by Jimin’s sobs. 

Everyone had felt it.

Everyone in the clan had felt the death of the Hwang clan’s leader, shot dead on his own lawn by some traitor who had managed to break his way in 

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

Author’s Note : I’m so sorry. 

feedback is loved. 

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[tofumedic]

hewo! for the affections number.. 16 is so cute.. would u be able to do headcanons of all the demon bros with it? if not, can u pls do levi then !

The Brothers + Simeon with #16!

16. taking a photo of them smiling or in their element

(lucifer's is here from a previous ask! and bc of that i added simeon only for having some lil funnies i hope you dont mind <3!!!)

Mammon

His collection is the largest, he flaunts it like collectables like cars or like Levi's figures. It is literally one of his biggest flexes and will use them like trading cards never wanting to send them in group chats or privately bc he took those ones get your own human >:(!

He will however hold his phone directly in one of their faces, waving the screen around to show how he has so many good ones.

He uses them for call screens, his lock screen, his home screen, any widget he can other than the Goldie one. He's a menace about it but do not call him out on it he will buy a second phone to use in the public.

Anyways, anyways for actually taking photos..

Mammon always takes too many, as in he will take a bunch within the same timespan because he doesn't trust his hands not to shake, so if he just takes a lot at one time so he can delete the others and save the best ones

But he just ends up keeping all of them, just favoriting the best or separating them into two albums of "valuables" and "treasures" depending on the quality.

Usually they will all have a small blur, him too excited at seeing whatever expression you wear, whether its a smile at seeing him purposely acting dumb or you enjoying a hobby.

He feeds a lot of unfiltered second hand serotonin off of you! Please do not disturb his "I have just had a very bad brotherly bonding experience, I must cope by looking at my photos of my human- No I'm not smiling already shut up"

Leviathan

Levi will use photos of you like wholesome memes so they carry the same energy as the hang in there cat poster, using different heart overlays and nice quotes

His are also a mixture of blurry but also high quality photos, for ones he takes.

This is because seeing you so dedicated or when you smile in his direction, his heart does this weird jumpstart the palpitations making him feel heavy yet light at the same time almost like a peach and its pit.

But he has a preference to use either this small tripod(he has it as a preparation for going to live shows) or a timer so its set away from him as he calls you over, its his own little trap.

His favorite, the majority of his collection, are those! It's photos of you being in frame with him in it as well because there's just something about how all that happiness of yours is completely focused on him, your smile as you walk over towards him sometimes blurry and mistimed so its only you entering the corner of the screen but you can tell how he takes your attention.

When getting in fights about who has the best photos, he will drop ones that are different hugs of him in your arms like he was a newly one plush. Mammon especially gets pissy about these as well as Belphie and Asmo.

If you can't turn your camera on when he calls or if he is locked in a raid that they're losing he would ask you for a selfie also, never requesting anything special other than just yourself but his favorite is when you send just smiles or videos of the which character are you filter :]!

Satan

Satan often tries to hide it, saying he's taking a photo of himself or checking his hair, maybe even going as far as saying the text on his study notes are too small so he has to hold it in front of his face so close.

Think about cowboys, shooting from the waist. That's him when you're too far away, maybe with a brother or during class or eating. He will scribble out his brother or purposely have the other cropped out of the shot.

He does have a lot of you when you're just turning around to face him and then your reaction, he can't resist the temptation of taking your attention when he's bored or waiting for his next book order to come in before he goes back to the cat behavior of only seeking out attention when he deems it necessary and otherwise pleased for a period of time.

He loves the ones where you look at him before he's ready, these are just slightly shaky from him jumping or pressing the button in an embarrassed panic at your smug yet happy expression.

Has definitely done the cut a hole in a newspaper and put his camera to it to look out like it was some camouflage but he's first, smiling much too hard and trying not to laugh at it, and second had seen it in multiple old movies and shows you had watched together.

Satan, speaking of movies, quite enjoys you in low light. On movie nights where your face is only illuminated by the projector screen and the photos turn out a bit grainy, there's something so romantic about you just existing in such an atmosphere. These ones he does like more when you're focused, looking far off with a small pleasant smile on your face at the soft plot of tonight's pick.

Asmodeus

Asmo will send you them all the time, he's like your own personal Devilgram manager he will even edit them for you and send the before and after of those photos too (MC: when did u take these??? Asmo: ,';p)

He will always have such good angles of you, from your side, from above or below, a 3/4, or full portrait, your silhouette. He may have one for each basic one at least though his favorites are above and below, these are the most personal feeling to him.

Usually these come as him trying to get your attention, bothering you with his phone and purposely leaving the little shutter noise on so you hear every single one while you're just trying to watch a DevilTube video or do something else.

Him snuggled into your side post cuddle just to lean up, phone in his hand and a menacing giggle, it's the first thing you see waking from your drowsy state is him on top of you trying to get cute pictures that he can use as teases as if something else was in progress.

Or ones where you roll on top of him, just trying to get up to see the dumb little flash as an alarm instead of his cute good morning kisses to your face(those are actually used to buy more time with you because he is allowed to be a little selfish as a treat)

He also has them set as his lockscreen and homescreen, these being photos of you together so he can have the best of both worlds, himself and your happy smiling face. He just finds it so cute, whenever you want an audience to see it he's in the first row.

Sends them to the group chat with his brothers to start some chaos

"My~ Isn't my dearest MC just the cutest?" Asmo has sent 28 attachments.

Beelzebub

His collection isn't one of the best out there but it is unique and keeps him content and happy, pleased.

He likes having photos of you for when you two are separated, it makes you feel closer to him and him to you

His may have some of the least blur, hands steady you work on something separately yet aware of the soft stare that was bearing into the side of your head.

He may forget sometimes about the sound so when you get the rare notification from his electronic betrayer it is free power to tease him, asking him if he wanted your attention or if he just took a photo of you and to be honest, then his photos if you let him continue for that setting are a little blurrier on your fine details. He's embarrassed.

He likes these more than ones with just your smile because then he isn't as satisficed because then he's thinking about how nice it looks in person and your laugh and when you let out a sigh being tired from your work, it'll be a cycle until he gives up and goes to see you in person.

But he likes the ones of you in your element very much and photos of you in general, saying that looking at them makes him feel "full"

He means to say complete, he's content and pleased and delighted and he has a reminder of you existing, that you're real and not a midnight sleep walk hallucination.

Belphegor

He has the smallest collection but next to rest, Beel, and his appearance he is mostly focused on capturing photos of you when he can.

He didn't get to really know you as long as his brothers have so its only fair he gets to spend more time with you than them until he's equal, and then some because you're really comfy and you make his twin happy? and then on top of that you make this face when you are concentrated and you smile different depending on if you're gonna laugh or if you're confident.

There's so much he has to memorize, he's rather demanding with having the attention so he may continue this personal agenda of his.

A lot of them are from similar angles, from laying with him in different positions but everything feeling relatively the same, normal. These are usually after he has woken up, not before he goes to bed so either it's your soft good morning smile, or your surprised "how long have you been awake" face, or you still asleep on your own.

Many of them often have his bed head just barely visible at the bottom, usually having laid on top of you and just using his selfie camera and angling it up to see you take up more of the screen.

For just being a pillow that moves a lot you definitely are photogenic.

He doesn't send his photos of you to chats but will save photos sent of you from everyone except Lucifer.

Simeon

PLEASE applaud.

It takes him such a long time, but Solomon gave him the idea saying it was something sweet you would also enjoy the concept of. So he is doing his best.

He will see you, just existing and his heart will swell, needing to pause a moment before kindly asking you to hold that thought and pose as he turns on his phone, maneuvering to the camera and trying to get it to focus on you perfectly.

It takes him a few minutes every time but he is getting better at it but his reaction is always the same, smiling at you showing up on his phone screen waiting for the picture to be taken.

He never can be sneaky about it unless he asks for help to get your photo, sending Luke on his biggest mission yet, a photo after he asks you what you thought of Simeon's cooking knowing you'll have that sweet face of genuine thought looking back on it.

But he has yet figured out how to turn the sound off and almost always accidentality flashes you up close, it's so bright.

He has the most blurry photos, and that's not on purpose but when he asks you to look at them with him so he can coo about how happy you look or how serious, its endearing with the blur especially as they clear up a bit continuing the timeline of photos.

He really does his best to have these mementos of you.

Is delighted when you surprise him by putting his favorite one of you as his home screen, he's so grateful let him match with you he wants to be yours too!

from this prompt list!

#anon my dear i hope u liked it :D! #tofu answers! #tofus lovable anons #obey me #obey me headcanons #om headcanons #obey me scenarios #obey me imagines #tofus blurbs! #obey me mammon #obey me simeon #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me belphegor #obey me lucifer #obey me brothers #obswd