#and if there was one he wanted But Not Sloppy he does know my main art blog

[dailybaizhu]

49: celebrating our annual second of screentime!! :D

[gloomwitchwrites]

Hello, hope you're a having a good day

Could you write something about 141 x reader where the sparring session turns a little too not your usual sparring (if you know what I mean). The reader and them being all sweaty and shit and like the sexual tension that's been there for a while. This idea has been plaguing my mind since forever. Thank youuuu

Haha! Yes! Omg, I love it. Okay, for this, I didn't go full smut. When someone mentions sexual tension, I tend to hyperfocus on that and want to bathe in it. Give me naughty thoughts and flirting-maybe even some actual physical contact that borders on dangerous territory. Give me the yearning! I want to giggle and kick my feet and think about what might happen later.

So, I indulged in that regard! I had lots of fun with this. Thank you so much for sending it in!!!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x TF141!Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, suggestive themes, knife play, grinding, rough kissing, caught in the act, training, naughty thoughts, mutual yearning

Word Count: 2.4k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John "Soap" MacTavish

“Come on. Come at me.”

Soap rolls his shoulders and then brings his fists up in a fighting stance. He makes a “go on” gestured with his hands.

Every muscle in your body is sore. Tired doesn’t even begin to describe how you’re feeling. But you want to best Soap. He’s been on your ass for weeks now—insisting that the two of you should spar together. It’s not the sparring that makes you warm and tingly but the way he suggests it.

Always leaning in. Standing far too close. Bumping your shoulder with his.

Soap waits, but you’re not sure how to proceed. So far, you’ve been completely unsuccessful. As if knowing all your moves, Soap has dodged each blow and kick, effortlessly taking you down to the mat every time you thinking you’ve ensnared him.

Stealth is more your thing. Creeping around in the shadows. Taking out opponents from afar. A sniper scope is your friend. Hand-to-hand isn’t.

You lunge for him and Soap steps back. Fist missing him, you sidestep and go for a jab in the stomach. Soap slaps your hand away, and you want to yell in frustration.

“Sloppy today,” chides Soap, grinning like this amuses him.

It probably does. He’s one for a good laugh.

This time you feign, and Soap takes it, moving in. You’re ready for him, turning out of his swing to duck beneath and then aim for the face. Soap rises to block, and opens a clear line to his groin.

Fucking beautiful.

Lifting your foot, you don’t tap him hard, just enough for his cheeks to go pink. Soap grunts, and you chuckle.

“Shouldn’t have left yourself—”

With an oof, your back smacks against the tumble mat beneath you. Soaps snags your wrists and pins them above your head. You go to kick out at him, but Soap’s knees are between your legs. He shoves them wider.

You’re completely trapped beneath him.

And in a completely inappropriate position.

From where you’re pinned, you notice the small beads of sweat on his brow and how a few pieces of hair stick to his skin. Though his chest is covered by a shirt, it’s snug, with every muscle on display. Those powerful thighs of his press against yours in such a way that you’re imagining nothing between your bodies.

Would he feel this powerful over you if the two of you were elsewhere? Perhaps, somewhere more private. Somewhere without a tumble mat. Somewhere with a bed.

“Can’t harm the goods, love,” says Soap, his voice husky. You’re not sure if it’s from the close contact or from the tap you gave his crotch.

“Then don’t leave them vulnerable,” you reply, almost not recognizing the sound of your own voice. It too is husky as if dipped in desire.

The middle of Soap’s brow scrunches slightly. His gaze travels downward to linger on your lips and then further still until you sense him admiring more than he is observing.

“Soap—”

His gaze snaps upward. “Johnny,” he corrects. “Think we’re on closer terms.”

“Are we?” you ask, as his hips start to relax.

The press of him against you is apparent, and the hardness there is poking at you. Insistent. And you don’t want to ignore it.

Instead, you press upward, grinding against him.

Soap—no—Johnny, makes a sound in his throat.

One moment you’re under him and then you’re in his lap, the two of you sitting up, staring into each other’s eyes. Your heart hammers in your chest, and your hands fists the front of his shirt.

“You—”

“Are we interrupting something?”

You and Johnny turn just as Ghost and Gaz enter the gym. Gaz has a towel draped over his shoulder. The water bottle he holds it half-way towards his mouth before he freezes, gaze locked on you and Johnny.

Ghost cocks his head, arms crossed over his chest.

You’re speechless. Lost. Your mind hasn’t caught up.

But Johnny’s has.

With a twist, Johnny rolls and then lightly tosses you off him as if the two of you were simply practicing and not staring into each other’s eyes.

“You want a go, Lt?” asks Johnny.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“You up for another round?” asks Kyle.

The man is grinning like he could do this all day. You’re sore everywhere—ready to collapse from exhaustion. Hand-to-hand combat is not your thing which is why you’re here in the training room with Kyle.

Yes, you need practice, but you’ve also had your eye on him, admiring him when you think no one is looking. It’s an excuse for some alone time.

“I’d rather eat glass,” you mutter, snatching up your water bottle and drinking the last of it.

“Hate me that much?” he teases.

“So much so that I wanted to spend the afternoon beating your ass.”

Kyle bursts out laughing. He snatches the water bottle out of your hand and aims it at you, squeezing. There’s nothing in it. A few measly drops hit your face and then you lunge for him. Kyle jumps back and extends his arms outward.

“One more round.” He winks. “Come on, love.”

He’s being cheeky, and your blood is pumping.

Kyle tosses your water bottle to the side as you stride forward. His arms go up, and then the two of you are nothing but flying fists and feet. He’s faster, blocking every blow you send his way.

Sweat accumulates on your brow and on the back of your neck, dripping down your spine. You lick your lips, taste the salt from the sweat.

You duck. Swing. Kyle snatches your wrist and twists, pinning your arm behind you. With a sharp jab of your elbow, you nail Kyle in the stomach, freeing yourself.

As you spin to lash out, Kyle is right there, in your space, blocking all movement. You try to step back, to allow space in your next strike, but Kyle rushes in. The two of you are twisted up. Falling. Slamming into the mat on the floor.

You shove and Kyle resists, his strength outmatching yours. With cheek pressed into the mat, you have nowhere to go. You’re completely on your stomach, and all of Kyle’s weight is on you. He breathes heavily, chest heaving. You feel his breath against your skin, and the contact only sends your skin into a shiver.

Your mind drifts, lingering in places it shouldn’t. Worse—Kyle is aroused. His hardness pokes at your ass. But whether he notices or not is unclear.

“You’re improving,” he says.

“I have a good teacher.”

Kyle makes a noise that sounds like agreement. Every muscle is tense, and even Kyle’s hold on you seems laced with something harsh. But then it eases. Softens. His grip loosens enough that you roll onto your side, glancing up at him.

He is so goddamn close. Just a gentle tilt of the head and your lips would meet his. It wouldn’t be that hard. He’s right there.

Kyle blinks, and then his gaze trails downward, lingering on your lips.

“We,” he begins. “We shouldn’t.”

“Why?”

His thumb traces along the side of your throat, and your eyelids flutter with contentment. A little moan escapes you, and you hear Kyle’s sharp inhale.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Fuck it.”

His thumb becomes his whole hand. Holding you in place, Kyle goes all in, claiming your lips with his. It is dominating, and you happily give in to him.

John Price

Your back hits the tumble mat with a sharp slap. The exposed portions of your shoulders and back sting from the contact.

"Again."

Groaning, you push up to a seated position. "We've been at this for hours."

"And you need practice," counters Price.

He's hatless. And shirtless. Only in cargo pants and boots, Captain Price's bare skin glistens with sweat. You won't pretend that the sight of him like this doesn't intrigue you. For months now you've been observing Captain Price in more than just a professional manner. It's hard not to, and the sweat-drenched man before you isn't helping things.

Captain Price runs his fingers through his hair, taking a step back. The casualness to the movement causes your stomach to twist with desire. Your body betrays you, and you have no idea if these feelings are entirely one-sided. Sometimes you think you might gleam a notion of his thoughts, but it always manages to slip through your grasp.

Price offers his hand, and an idea forms.

You extend yours, but don't close the distance. Price is the one that leans forward to do so. It's the perfect opportunity. When your fingers close around his, you tug back, throwing him off balance.

Price tips forward, and you turn to the side as he crashes down to the mat. In one fluid movement, you roll Price onto his back and straddle his stomach.

"Never let your guard down. That's what you always say."

Price's eyes widen slightly before softening. The corner of his mouth twitches into a hint of amusement. It immediately sends heat flaring through you.

"I do," he replies, and it's nearly a coo.

That smirk of his widens into an actual smile, and then it's you on your back and Price straddling. You strike out with an elbow but Price catches your swing, trapping your arms above your head. He bends forward a bit, and it is then that you feel the stiffness against your stomach.

Price makes no move to hide it, and you don’t dare glance downward.

"You need to do better-"

"Captain."

Price immediately recoils, sitting up and releasing your arms. You twist to look behind you, only to find Ghost and Soap standing nearby. Ghost is ever the silent observer, but Soap's head is slightly tilted to the side, the middle of his brow pinched like he's not sure what's happening.

"Meeting starts in five,” says Soap. “Came to find you."

Price coughs and then he's off you, kneeling and offering you a hand again. You don't try to knock him down.

"Just going over some pointers,” replies Price.

"Pointers?" deadpans Ghost and you shoot him a look. He shrugs at you, gaze lingering before moving to his captain.

"Give me ten minutes. Shower. Then I'll be there."

Captain Price gives you a quick glance before walking off with Soap. Ghost crosses his arms over his chest and just stares.

“What?" you snap

"Pointers," he repeats.

"Oh, fuck off, Simon."

He chuckles and turns to follow the two out of the training room.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

"Your posture is terrible."

"That's very helpful, Lieutenant,” you deadpan.

"Are you sassing me?"

"No."

Simon shakes his head and sighs. “Can’t throw a knife accurately if you’re hunched like a goblin.”

“Goblin,” you mutter under your breath. “Asshole.”

“What was that?”

You clear your throat. “Seems easy, Lieutenant. You just throw the pointy end at the enemy.”

Simon grunts and then grabs your raised arm. "You won't hit anything standing like that."

You resist his pull but you're outmatch when it comes to strength. With one hand on your arm and one on your waist, Simon shifts you into position.

"Like this," he instructs, bringing your arm back. "Firm grip. Feet pointed forward." Simon releases your arm but his hand on your waist remains. "Throw. At the target."

You let the knife fly. It strikes just right of the bullseye.

"Again,” nods Simon.

"Really?"

Simon slowly drops his hand from your waist, the tips of fingers lingering a second longer than necessary.

Removing a knife from his boot, Simon flips it end over end. "We could hone your skills a different way."

"What way?"

“Grab your knife and find out.”

Stalking toward the bullseyes, you yank out the knife, joining Simon in the sparring ring. He bends at the knee, crouching into a fight stance. You mimic the movement.

Simon lunges first and you sidestep. But he's quick for such a large man. He moves around and behind you so fast he's almost a blur.

Grabbing your wrist, Simon lightly twists and pins you against his front, the knife tip pointed at your throat.

"Again,” he growls.

Simon lightly shoves you away. You spin. Striking out. He slaps your arm down and raises his own, the knife tip pointed at your throat for a second time.

"Again."

Showing your teeth, you charge at him, barreling into him at the middle. Simon staggers but doesn't faulter. He attempts to toss you off him, but you remain firm, grabbing hold.

This unloads him, his weight toppling with you. The two of you go down. Simon rolls you onto your back, his body pressed to yours, knife at your throat again.

"Better,” he says. “Still needs improvement."

You go to shove him off, but Simon doesn't budge. He remains where he is, and every point of contact is like an electrical spark. Even his face is close, balaclava nearly scratching against your skin. There is not part of him you’re not touching.

Awareness settles in.

Simon is all hardness over you.

"Have any tips you can give me?" you reply.

His gaze slowly lowers to your lips. His hips shift slightly, something stiff poking against your inner thigh.

“I have one,” he murmurs.

Bet I can guess.

“How do you want it?” he continues.

"You're the expert," you reply softly, hooking your leg over the back of his.

It's an invitation, one you aren't sure he'll take.

There’s a brief pause, and then Simon hums in agreement. It’s a pleased sound, one that instantly makes you shiver. Without taking the knife from your throat, he closes the distance, lips pressing against yours through the balaclava.

Heat erupts, the knife in your hand forgotten on the floor as you grab at him, fingers digging in.

It's only a tease. You want the real thing.

"What's the tip?" you ask once he breaks the connection.

Simon answers by grinding his hips against yours.

That one. Got it.

“We should—”

A door slams from somewhere down the hall. Simon’s head snaps up. The knife disappears, and then Simon is pushing himself away, kneeling beside you. His head is turned toward the main doors, but no one enters.

“It’s late,” you say. No one should be coming this way.

He turns back to you. “Your knife skills are shit.”

You groan. “I know. Goblin hunch. Got it.”

Simon snorts, and offers his hand. You take it, and he pulls you into a seated position. “Just a few more rounds,” he says, and then with a husky twinge to his tone, “and then I’ll go make sure the locker room is clear.”

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[dark-konohagakure2]

Fugaku Uchiha mistakes his daughter for his wife and ravages her pussy without shame.

tw: incest, father/daughter, accidental incest, noncon, drunk sex, abuse, cheating, somnophilia, manipulation

All characters depicted are 18+

Fugaku is a very busy man, being the head of the Uchiha Clan, a husband, and a father of three, it can get very stressful, and while he's usually able to take it in stride, even he can get stressed out a times, to the point where he could really use a drink to take the edge off. He only really drinks when Mikoto is out of the house, he doesn't want his beloved wife to worry about him after all. Fugaku was only planning on sharing a few drinks with the police force, but one thing leads to another, and now he's coming home drunk in the dead of night.

He isn't terribly disoriented, but the liquor has made his mind a bit hazy, making it difficult to see, especially in the dark house, not only that, but the effects of the alcohol have gone straight to Fugaku's cock, leaving him with a leaking hard on that only his wife can fix. He knows how understanding and eager to please him Mikoto is, so he'll drunkenly look for her before quickly finding her. Fugaku's befuddled mind doesn't question why she looks a bit shorter, or why she's in their daughters bed.

Being drunk off his ass, Fugaku isn't really thinking straight, instead letting the head between his legs do all the thinking for him, a rare moment of irresponsibility for the clan head as he clumsily sheds his pants, just barely able to line up with the correct hole before thrusting into his 'wife' with a moan. All is well at the beginning, he's feeling relief for the first time in weeks, but he pauses for a moment upon realizing that it's not his wife he's fucking, it's his daughter.

If Fugaku was sober, he might consider stopping, but he's not in a sober state of mind, the only thing on his mind right now is getting off after such a stressful week, and if his wife isn't available, his daughter is the next best thing. She's old enough to get fucked, and inbreeding isn't very frowned upon in any of the major clans, so Fugaku feels no shame about what he's doing.

"Fuck... My mistake... you just look so much like your mother that I thought you were here... You're just as beautiful as her... and even tighter than she is..."

He's now completely aware that he's fucking his own daughter, but he's either too drunk or too horny to care. Fugaku has been needing this release for ages now, so surely his girl can be a good girl for her daddy and take whatever he dishes out, for his sake. He'll also cover her mouth with his hand as he's ravaging her pussy, he doesn't want her brothers hearing what he's doing to her, or gods forbid her mother walks in.

Fugaku is usually a precise and coordinated man, but all of that goes out the window when hes inebriated, his hips are shaky and sloppy as he pounds her into the mattress, his moans slurred while he practically drools over him. He's still able to maintain a small modicum of his usual strict personality despite his intoxication, reprimanding her if she struggles too much or makes too much noise.

The alcohol will loosen his lips somewhat, making Fugaku much more talkative than usual, although his words are slurred and just hardly legible, he'll switch between praising and degrading his daughter as he's recklessly pounding her tight cunt, letting her know how good her pussy feels compared to Mikoto's and how badly her daddy needed some pussy after the week he's been having.

He won't pay much mind to where he finishes, if he cums inside of or onto her body is of little concern. His main priority is getting to cum, and where he does it is of no consequence to him. In a moment of post orgasm clarity, Fugaku will have enough clarity to give her a demand before leaving her be for the night.

"That's my girl... Always so eager to please her daddy... Now don't tell your mother about any of this... We don't want to cause even more problems for the clan now do we..?"

Mikoto is going to start wondering why her husband has been so distant with her lately, rarely getting intimate with her anymore. Fugaku will assure his dear wife that their clan needs him now more than ever and that he's been too busy working on creating a better future for all of them, when in reality the true reason is that he's found a much tighter hole to stick his cock in every night.

[endless-ineffabilities]

Chemical Override (bonus chapter 2) - August!

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: this sweet one is set just before they broke it off (or rather, before the reader stomped all over his heart) in part five!

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

August! (... slipped away into a moment in time)

It's a fine morning, albeit lazy, you and Ewan having done nothing but lay in bed and talk and cuddle.

Granted, you did a lot more than talk over the course of the night. And this continued in the morning, with Ewan gently coaxing you out of sleep in need.

He's been insatiable, not that you can blame him. You two are finally together, after months of dancing around each other, your friends in eager anticipation to see how the 'will-they, won't they' dynamic will culminate.

They'll be pleased to know that it all led up to the best date you've had so far, followed by a night of bodies burning for the other, marking their territory in the throes of pent-up desire.

Ewan was sure he would remain the gentleman, merely driving you back to your hotel and calling it a night.

But you had invited him upstairs for a nightcap. Maybe some tea, as the Brits do. Needless to say, the tea was quickly forgotten, along with any reservations he might have about simply having you.

The haze of it hasn't subsided. Clad in nothing but undergarments, your limbs are tangled with his under the sheets as you watch the newly released New York foods video he did with Tom a while back.

"Baby?" you say, running your fingers through his hair as he has his head propped on your thighs. The screen plays on, showing the lads thoroughly enjoying some New York City hotdogs.

"Hmm?" he responds, his voice hinting at how soothed he feels from your touch.

"You're such a baby."

"What?" He twists his neck to shoot you a look of betrayal. Adorable.

"I bet those chips weren't even that spicy," you say, rolling your eyes. "I would have devoured those jalapeño chips."

"They were spicy!" He leans against his forearm, which he quickly positioned on your thigh without thinking, causing your muscle to spasm from the sudden weight.

"Ahhh, Ewan!" you wriggle your legs. "Get off, get off..."

"Shit!" He bolts upright, immediately kneading the flesh with his palm. "Sorry, baby. Here, where does it hurt?"

You sigh audibly. "Oh, you." You narrow your eyes at him playfully, trying to look all tough, but apparently he takes it as a cue to press his lips to yours.

It's warm, a bit sloppy, your breaths stale from wine drank over the course of the night. And you don't mind at all.

He croons in your ear, "How do I make it up to you?"

"It's fine, I was only kind of messing - "

"Come now, darling, anything."

He gazes at you, awaiting an answer. In the background, you hear his voice saying, The Fuegos... I didn't like them, as the video comes to a close.

I saw your eyeballs sort of pop out your head a little bit, Tom says in response.

This is going to be fun, you think, smiling evilly to yourself.

Rising to your knees on the bed, you loudly declare, "Today, my love, you will conquer your fears and eat my favourite spicy food."

"Nooo!" He shakes his head right away, already plotting how to get out of this predicament. "Baby, please make me do anything else. I can't handle my spice!"

"My mind is made up."

"What if I do that thing that made you scream last night? When I buried my tongue insi - '

"Ewan!" Your face reddens, but you carry on. His face will soon have the same reaction, but for different, more savoury reasons. "I mean, I would like that but - "

"Alright, let's go baby, spread your knees - " he nods, desperate to placate you and your challenge, but also eager to get down to business.

You shuffle away when he tries to pry your legs open. " - I said I made up my mind! We're eating spicy food. We gotta eat anyway, I'm starving."

He groans, collapsing back on the bed. He runs his hand tiredly over his face, mulling it over. As if he actually has a choice. He wants to do this for you, seeing as how excited you're getting.

"Get up, ol' sport," you crawl on top of him, perching above his stomach. "We're gonna go get the goods."

"Hmm," he sighs contentedly, one look at you more than enough to quell his worries. For now.

"Okay, darling," he relents, then his eyes flash in mischief. "But before we get out of bed... how about I do that thing anyway?"

There is not a single chance in the seven hells that you could ever say no to that.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

An interesting spread is laid out on the round dining table in your hotel suite.

Your stomach growls in anticipation, while Ewan is stiff as a board as he sits beside you.

"I'm hungry, aren't you?" you nudge him, but he only moans, throwing his head back in his chair.

"What if I'd already eaten? I can skip this?" he tries.

"And what the hell did you eat?"

He smirks, and even though his answer won't save him from what follows, it renders him gleeful all the same. "You," is his reply.

That prompts an eye roll, but you shake your head at him fondly. "What should we start with, baby?"

"Water."

"Come on."

"How about the strawberry milk?"

"Okay, then I'll pick." You clasp your hands, surveying the options. "Let's start with something easy." You settle for the bowl of Flamin Hot Cheetos and place it right in front of him.

You help yourself to a few pieces, before noticing that he hasn't moved a muscle, so you take one and bring it to his lips. "Open up, handsome."

"Mmmm," he tilts his head away on instinct, but he gives in after a second. He makes a face as the snack crunches in his mouth. "Not... bad, I suppose.... Urghhh - " he coughs a little, making you snicker at him between bites.

"That's not spicy at all," you say. "At least, it's nothing compared to what we'll have next."

The chicken wings are an unnatural bright red colour, covered in hot sauce and dotted with flecks of chili. You lean down and take a whiff, your nose scrunching as the strong hint of spice hits your senses.

Your placating smile does nothing to ease Ewan, who only looks like he is regretting his life choices on the spot.

"O-kay, dragonblood. Time to breathe fire," you remark in an attempt to inspire some confidence in him. Didn't he take pride in playing a Targaryen dragonrider? Surely some part of him would want to overcome the big, bad opponent that is known in our world as spicy wings.

"Breathe fire?" he exclaims. "That does not make me feel any better!"

"Do it for Vhagar, my love. Do it for Vhagar."

"I'm doing this for you," he corrects, before gingerly taking the smallest bite of a wing. He waits for the impact, confused when nothing unpleasant occurs.

So he bravely takes another, heartier bite.

Big mistake.

His hand gravitates to the glass of water, and he chugs it down like a lifeline. His once pale face becomes the same hue as the fiery culprit.

"Fffuck, ba...by," he hiccups. "I didn't like that at all."

You have a bite, wincing just a little when it hits your throat. It wasn't too bad, so you tell him to calm down.

He complains anyway, "I think I just saw my life flash right before my eyes."

You chortle at that, which unfortunately makes some of the spice travel up your nose. "Oh god!" You instantly take a huge gulp of milk. "Don't make me laugh!" you say, when the heat dies down.

"See?" he cries out in vindication. "Why must we torture ourselves, darling?"

"The food's tasty," you counter.

"Yeah, but is it worth the price?"

You grip his shoulder, dramatically saying, "We have to keep going, soldier."

"No."

"Yes."

"You won't break up with me if I refuse, will you?"

You pause, making it seem like you are seriously deliberating it. "Maybe."

"What?!" His expression takes on a more real sense of alarm.

"I'm kidding," you giggle, nudging his leg with yours. He leans his head against your shoulder, responding with, "You're mean."

"And you're dating me. What does that say about you?"

He lets out a weary laugh, "That I'm just really in love, I guess."

That almost makes you give up on the challenge entirely. You could just let him eat the pepperoni pizza you have saved as the actual meal. But it wouldn't hurt too much to tackle the grand finale. The final boss. Maybe it will even get his taste buds to crack and cross over to the dark side.

"Baby?" Here goes everything.

"Hmm?"

"It's time for the spicy ramen."

He sighs a true sigh of defeat and acceptance. "If I survive this, you have to swear you're never letting me go."

"That's your bargain? Easy, baby."

His blue eyes bore into yours. His cheeks are still red and he's still sniffling from the spice, but his sentiment holds weight. He shrugs, before his arm reaches out for the bowl of ramen, making it known that he has already accepted his fate.

You slide the glass of milk closer to him.

"Try not to get it on your lips as much as possible," you advise him, growing worried as the ramen pack did warn that it was '2x Spicy'.

You cringe inwardly as a forkful of noodles enters his mouth. He drops his arm, chewing slowly, and finally the food gratefully slides down his throat.

"Mmm," he clears his throat, trying his hardest to remain calm. His forced, blank expression is even more alarming than the alternative.

"Ewan?" He turns his head toward you, slowly. And you see the full extent of the damage. His eyes well with tears, and his breathing is shallow from an even more congested nose.

"I'm okay," he wheezes, trying to maintain a show of boldness for your sake. "I can do this."

"You don't look okay." You shake your head at him, as his face takes on an even deeper shade of red.

A pained grunt escapes him. "Maybe a kiss will make it better."

A cursory glace at the ramen sauce staining his lips compels you to protest without a second thought. "How about no? You've got it all over your lips."

"Darling, who cares? You're going to eat them too!" he says, scandalised.

"But I've got a technique. I don't let it touch my lips so it doesn't burn!" You inch away as he leans in.

"So you won't kiss me?" He uses his baby blues against you, eyes bright and shimmering as he pouts in disappointment.

"You don't need a kiss." He tries to grab you, making you stand from your chair to get away. With your palm outstretched, you implore him, "Baby, just drink your milk."

"Then I get a kiss?"

"Fine. Then you get a kiss."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Tom calls you a few days later, his tone animated from the moment you pick up. "Would you look at that! I didn't think I would get a hold of you lovers. Thought you'd be busy doing somethin' else, if y'know what I mean."

"It's noon here, Tom," you reply matter-of-factly, stretching your legs out on the bed.

"So? I reckon Captain Big Balls over there has got it in him."

"Wow," you let out an amused exhale. Tom always did have a way about him, being a Manc and all. "Well, he's in the shower right now if you wanted to speak to him."

"I'm surprised you're not in there with him, love! You guys are all over the news, bloody hell. Even out here, everyone's buzzin' about the hot new couple from House of the Dragon. And no, it's not Matt and Fabien."

You smirk at his last remark, "Are you sure it's not Matt and Fabs?"

"Positive," he says. "But we never know what could happen. Anyway, how in the hell did you convince him?"

You rack your brain for what exactly he could be pertaining to. "Convince him to do what?"

"To create a bloody Instagram profile, that's what!"

Your mouth falls open, and you quickly put him on speaker so you can scroll to the aforementioned app. Sure enough, it doesn't take long for you to sift through your new follower notifications before you find him.

His username is on brand - straightforward and no-frills - just ewanmitchell . Already verified with a hundred thousand followers and counting. In his following list, however, there is only one - your profile.

If the papparazzi pictures and tabloid stories and fan encounters hadn't convinced everyone yet, likely this will.

Ewan, notorious not only for his charisma and pure talent, but also for being steadfast in staying off social media, has sent the entirety of Ewan Nation into a tailspin with his profile.

Icing on the cake - he only follows you.

"You see, this is what convinces the public that you two are not PR," Tom says. "Because Ewan would never, ever get on the socials for just anyone."

"I didn't even know he made this. I haven't been online in quite a bit."

"Been busy, huh?" he asks.

"Yeah."

"Doin' a lot of stuff out there?"

"I guess."

"Like Ewan?"

"Tom, I'm going to lynch you when I see you."

He only laughs, having gotten his desired outcome from prodding at you.

The bathroom door slides open, and Ewan steps out with nothing but a towel haphazardly wrapped around his waist.

"Who's that?" he mouths at you.

"Tom," you answer loudly, prompting Tom to greet Ewan from the speakerphone.

"Aemond the Fierce!" he bellows, the long-distance call doing nothing to stifle his personality. "I always knew you had it in ya. Ever since you laid eyes on her during the table read, I knew it was only a matter of time."

Well, isn't that a revelation. You had thought it was just you harbouring a crush in the beginning. "The table read, really? I just remember being so nervous," you say.

"I thought you were attractive," Ewan admits, scratching the back of his neck. "And you were reading your lines with such passion that I... "

Tom interrupts, "He ran over to me and told me to show him your social media."

"Not just that, I - "

"He wanted to see whether you had any pictures with a boyfriend or something."

"Alright, alright." Ewan snatches the phone from your hand, as if that will keep Tom from exposing him even more. "How are you, mate?"

"I'm good, lad, and yourself?"

Ewan glances at you, seeing that you've gone back to reading a script, your brow furrowed in concentration.

A smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

"I'm great. I'm happy."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

"Over here! Over here!"

"How's your evening going, you guys? How are you enjoying LA?"

The papparazzi needlessly try to make small talk and they flash their cameras in your face. You and Ewan barely have time to grimace at each other once you get inside his car. The restaurant where he took you to dinner hadn't been crawling with paps when you arrived. Someone must have tipped them at some point.

Ewan instinctively reaches for your hand when you've driven some distance away from the restaurant, a breath of relief exiting his lungs.

"That's Hollywood for you, baby," he says amusedly, putting on his best standard American accent.

The car speeds through the streets of LA. Heading to Mount Hollywood, you have the famous Griffith Observatory set as your destination.

You have always wanted to go, and it only took one mention to Ewan before he planned it for your next date.

It doesn't take long before the observatory's iconic structure comes into view. Its white domes seemingly gleam under the night sky, a sentinel watching over the city of Los Angeles.

Stepping out of the car, you take in the scene in awe. The resulting look on your face lets Ewan know he made the right choice in taking you here. He'd take you here everyday if it meant seeing you in a spell of childlike wonder.

The observatory itself is just a bonus.

The outer balcony stretches like a vertice into the vastness of the city, a sea of lights glistening down below. It seemed to sprawl on endlessly, a labyrinth of hopes and pains and dreams.

You stand there, drawn to the view like a moth to a flame. The evening breeze dances through your hair, and your face is aglow from the illuminated city.

Smiling widely, you turn and find Ewan lingering just behind, watching you.

"Come and look at this, my love," you wave him over.

He wants to capture the moment, so he does. He subtly points his camera in your direction. Your profile is partially visible, with your face turned out into the horizon. Your silhouette stands before a mosaic of the shining city.

But it's you that has his attention. You that pulls all of his focus into the frame.

He never thought he would have much use for a public social media profile like the one he created on Instagram, but hours later, as you're sound asleep beside him, he finds purpose for such a thing.

He uploads the first ever photo on his profile - the one he secretly took of you at the observatory.

Too conscious to think of a caption, he doesn't type in any, content to let the photo speak for itself.

Putting his phone away, he presses a soft kiss to your forehead and falls into blissful slumber.

Ewan hadn't been aware of the phrase breaking the internet, and he's in for quite the rude awakening.

Even so, he doesn't let it faze him.

You're in shock when you discover the amount of comments under the photo, well past the twelve thousand mark when you wake up. Positive, negative, and everything in between.

Almost unheard of for an Instagram debut.

His reaction?

"At least everyone knows that you're mine now. What's wrong with that?"

You can vote here on the reader's hotd character name!

Taglist: @sprinklesprinkle888 @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @strangersunghoon @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @athenafaes @lovelyteenagebeard @mamawiggers1980 @moongirl27 @katherine93 @barnes70stark @justbelljust @cloudroomblog @somestufftoday @esposadomd @girl-in-the-chairs-void @insideyourimagination @hotdismylife @vyctorya @wildrangers @livcookesgf @dracaryxzs @aemondwhoresworld @aisselasstuff @onlyrealjoy (continued in comments)

The sad, angsty bits will be saved for the next proper chapter! What happens to Ewan's Instagram then? What happens to him?? 🥲💔

I was going to include the double date idea, but alas, my ideas ran dry.

I've got nothing but love for all of you that have followed this story to this point! If you've got scene requests, just let me know!

[aemndxx]

𝓇.cameron. ┆ angel face.

◟ ㅤᡣ𐭩ㅤㅤ ݁.﹒ my mama is back home. !!! ᠀𓏲 even tho i'm gonna be her main caregiver now & i'm moving in less than two weeks, i'll hopefully be publishing more stuff for u angels. ♡ྀི

"y'like this, angel?" rafe coos softly, sounding sickeningly sweet against your sweet smelling neck, inhaling that addicting vanilla-scented perfumè you're always wearing, making his cock throb against his left thigh, hanging bare and heavy, dripping with small beads of pre-cum.

you nod eagerly, squealing as rafe begins pumping his long, calloused finger faster and harder inside of your weepy little cunt, adding another and stuffing it inside swiftly, making you mewl and release a breathy, high-pitched and feminine squeak at the sudden stretch.

"awh, is it too much for you, baby?" rafe teases mockingly, pressing sloppy, open-mouthed kisses all across your neck, sucking the occasional claiming mark, his kiss-swollen lips trailing down to suck on the tops of your bare breasts.

"i know, baby… i know," rafe murmurs against your soft skin, before taking a puffy, perky little nipple into his mouth, suckling for a few moments, both of your nipples already swollen from rafe toying with them earlier, pinching and plucking them, making you moan so prettily for him.

"just need dad's cock, huh?" he croons, his voice darkening and sounding more gruff by the second, needing to be inside of you as soon as possible—no, he needed you now, right fucking now.

"it's okay, babydoll—daddy's gonna give his pretty girl what she wants, yeah?" he continues to ramble mostly to himself, quickly releasing the one nipple he was sucking on by swiftly moving down for a second, flattening his tongue completely and licking a stripe up your soaking pussy, needing another taste.

"fuck, this pussy... it's all mine," he growls, already lining himself up as he moves to settle more comfortably between your plush, spread thighs, so silkily smooth and smelling of your strawberry shortcake body lotion.

without waiting a moment longer, he gives his hardened cock a small squeeze, pumping it twice quickly, growing more impatient by the second, before gripping himself by the base and lining himself up with your dribbling hole, all wet and sloppy from rafe eating your sweet little cunny just minutes ago.

"you ready f'me, baby?" he asks, already rubbing his leaking tip up and down your glossy slit, before pushing inside of you without waiting for a verbal response, already seeing the look you're giving him with your big, doe-like eyes, all misty and begging to be fucked.

without missing a beat, or allowing you a moment to adjust, rafe continues pushing his cock all the way inside until he bottoms out, before beginning a frantic, nearly animalistic, but steady pace, watching the way tears are already streaming down your flushed cheeks, little moans escaping you.

"that's my girl, taking daddy's dick like such a good girl—fuck, you feel so fucking good wrapped around me," rafe grunts, practically pounding you into his bed, not caring if his father or sisters hear—rafe needs you, needs to fuck you, and if you didn't know any better, you'd think he was just as desperate for you as you're for him.

"yea, yes... daddy!" you mewl sweetly, breath hitching, your tits bouncing with every brutal thrust from rafe, but you don't mind, you loved when rafe used you like his own personal little fucktoy.

"that's it, baby," rafe puffs out, nearly breathless, panting and growing sweatier by the minute, feeling your perfect cunt squeezing him so tightly, he honestly thought he would blow his load any moment now.

"fuckfuckfuck—shit, baby, such a good little slut f'me," rafe groans lowly, pressing his face into the crook of your neck, sloppily kissing your already marked up neck, nipping and sucking and licking any inch of skin that he could reach.

"that's it... juuust like that," rafe croons into your ear, feeling your pussy quivering, knowing you're about to come for him any second now, hearing your small wails and whimpers, before he lifts his head and presses his lips against yours, tasting your cotton candy lipgloss, his tongue practically down your throat as he kisses you messily, passionately, possessively—like he's marking his territory over you.

and then, then, you feel it, your back arching and you're coming with a muffled, girlish cry that's swallowed by rafe's mouth, making him blow his load not a second later as he reaches down with one big hand and starts to give your little buzzing clit tiny, light slaps, making you squeak and try to squirm away from the overstimulation, from him.

"no, no," rafe says sternly, this time slapping your clit harshly and making you cry out once again, releasing a breathless chuckle after, his lips still connected to yours, your mixed salivas making both of your lips and chins shiny, but neither of you care—rafe likes seeing you like this, all fucked out, so weepy and submissive for him whenever he gives you a good, long, and hard fucking.

perhaps, just maybe, that's why he doesn't bat an eye at your small wail of protest when he shoots his load deeply inside of you, hearing your whiny complaints—but rafe doesn't give a fuck, you're his, and you'll always be his.

[whatusername00]

Which Baldur's Gate Characters Know How To Lace Up Their Clothing - Camp Edition

I got this idea because I noticed Gortash's shirt isn't laced properly, and then noticed Astarion's shirt isn't laced properly, so now I need to look at as many characters as I can because I can't stop noticing. And I'm about to spend too much time on this for it to stay in my brain. Starting with all characters who appear at camp (main party + others.)

Shadowheart, Lae'zel, Gale, Withers, Aylin, Mizora, Duke Ravenguard, Emmaline, and Arnell don't have lacing on their camp outfits.

Starting with the default clothes for Tav. Yes, they know how to lace their shirt. Good job. This particular Tav is Durge, so it's good to know he didn't forget how when his brain got Swiss'd. However, it's not perfectly consistent because on the bottom 2 sets of eyelets he threads from the outside, but the third set he threads from the inside. Though this is probably intentional so the lacing doesn't hang on the inside of his shirt, so 9/10.

Astarion, baby boy, you were so close. But unfortunately there are two pairs of eyelets where he threads one side from the outside and one from the inside. For someone who wants to appear so put together, you think he could take the two extra braincells to lace his shirt consistently. 7/10.

Threaded consistently the whole way through...with one side. Why didn't you finish lacing your shirt? Why even lace one side if you weren't going to lace the other? Why isn't the lacing that you didn't finish shorter than the one that you did finish? All questions I can't answer because I cannot ask. 7/10 at least it's consistent.

I couldn't get a good in game screenshot of Karlach since her lacing is on her pants, but I found a texture rip so I can work with it. So the lacing here is the same all the way through, super consistent, *mwah*, but...it's sneakily unnecessarily complicated. Typically, the lacing that laces from the inside to outside would sit on top, but it's not that way on her pants. She pulls the lacing through the eyelet, then threads it under the other part of the cross, then threads it through the top of the next eyelet. And with as much lacing as her pants have, this must have taken forever for no extra benefit. It would have been easier to let it sit on top. 8/10 its pretty though.

Halsin. Beautiful. Gorgeous. I choose to believe the knots are hidden on the inside. No other notes. 10/10.

I've never actually recruited Minthara so I took a picture from the BG3 wiki. Just like Halsin, beautiful. Again, I choose to believe the ends are hidden on the inside. 10/10.

Jaheira's pants lace the same way Halsin's shirt does: perfectly. Though if the knot is hidden on the inside, I feel like that would be more uncomfortable, so I'm gonna headcannon that it ties at her waist under her shirt. Other than that, 10/10.

Minsc's shirt uses the same model as Wyll's so everything I said there applies here, though I feel like it makes more sense for Minsc. My real gripe here is that Minsc is a liar. Talking 'bout some thrice laced pants, but I didn't see any lacing on those pants. How dare he trick me in this way. 6/10 I don't like being lied to.

Yenna's mom may be dead, but she made sure her baby knew how to lace her shirt before she did. She may have gotten kidnapped by Orin, but she looked put together while doing it. Perfect 10/10. She deserves it after what she went through.

After being dead for 100 years, Isobel didn't forget how to lace her armor. Gotta be put together to see her girlfriend again. 10/10 Isobel can do no wrong.

Volo...I don't know what you've done to the front of your pants but it doesn't look good. Some of those crosses are missing. It looks sloppy. What is this. This is something I would do as a joke to see if anyone noticed. Well I noticed and I hate it. 2/10 it keeps your pants closed I guess.

That's it for the camp. I'll link other sets of characters below as I do them.

Tieflings

[peachie-bumblebee]

FNAF SECURITY BREACH NSFW HEADCANONS

MAIN 4

MINORS DNI

getting back to my ROOTS with this one!! hope my community is still out there- the dlc has brought back my love for the game :) i haven’t posted SB content in a LONG time so a reminder- I ONLY WRITE FOR CHARACTERS WHO PASS THE JACK HARKNESS TEST. They are OF AGE OR ABOVE, have HUMAN OR ABOVE INTELLIGENCE, and can VERBALLY GIVE INFORMED CONSENT. The SB animatronics are canonically sentient. None of the past ones are. okay- back to the content :D

CW: ONE PREGNANCY MENTION, KINK RELATED T0YS, SEMI-PUBLIC MENTIONS, DACRIPHILIA

GLAMROCK FREDDY

lord have mercy…

he’s the most virgin coded out of all of them. i’m sorry.

but do I think he’s a TOTAL virgin? no.

there are FREAKS out there (me writing this and y’all reading this-) who would 1000% show up to the pizzaplex just tryna get a piece of the fazballs

SORRY

he’s the type to silently get off in his dressing room and then get all embarrassed about it like there’s someone there to judge him

he’s an actual sweetheart in the sheets. he’s so so nice about everything. as we go down the list this DECREASES.

don’t push him too fucking hard tho. if you’re one of the ones who read my old fic Competition, you remember.

his fingers vibrate.

and so does that dick.

he’d turn it on inside of you and listen to you gasp before putting a hand gently over your mouth and hushing you.

he seems a lot like a gasper. maybe the occasional curse word coming out, but mostly praises of how good it feels.

i know he is a messy cummer. i’m right and that’s final.

he’d be absolutely humiliated after the fact and go get a wet washcloth asap, but it’s a very shocking amount anyway.

pregnancy isn’t a concern, but he’s still wary about cumming inside for some reason. he’s the type to make sure it’s okay like 3 times before he does it.

okay i lowkey think he’d be into getting handcuffed. i don’t know what handcuffs could genuinely hold him, but if you brought them out he’d be (figuratively) SWEATING

i think his eyes roll back when he cums. and i’m correct. eat me.

he’s the lead member but he’s humble about it… except a few times in bed. then he lets it go to his head(s). just a bit. ;)

if he was in a relationship he’d have a thing about his partner dressed in his merch

switch! but the most vanilla out of everyone- but remember, not completely.

…he’d eat his cum out of you.

no he is NOT gonna call you superstar during sex leave me ALONEEE

GLAMROCK CHICA

my biggest hc for her will and will always be that she has a MASSIVE toy collection. she is a toy girl. do i know how she gets them? not exactly.

but I DO know that they’re all pink and white and sparkly!

that doesn’t mean it’s all vanilla toys though (respect to the vanilla community but it is not me :) )

she does own a hot pink flogger and she WILL happily use it on a groupie or her partner.

she’s such a tease. she’s such a fucking tease jsghskbnsjh

doesn’t matter if she’s domming or subbing (60/40 ratio)

she’s a TEASE

and she giggles during sex

her whole bubbly pink happy girl thing doesn’t stop

she’ll put you in a bubblegum pink sex swing and use a big ass vibrator on you while giggling and telling you how cute you look

i know she likes pulling on nipples I KNOW SHE DOES

for those who used to ask- no, she can’t give head with her beak. and she’s not taking it off. sun/moon can’t give sloppy either BUT THEY MAKE IT WORK!

AND SHE DOES TOO!

she can fuck up the guitar with her fingers, what else do you think they can do?

she’s the type to pull you into a side room, hush you, finger fuck you, then send you on your way with a hug

i know for a FACT SHE WEARS A STRAP!

yes it IS glitter. it is also 9 inches.

and if you want more, she has more ways to give you that.

she’s also the type to get you front row tickets and put a remote control vibe in you so she can watch you squirm right in front of her.

she’s also a praiser, but there’s a lot of false sympathy in there too.

food aftercare. she wants to eat 3 pizzas with you. food is her love language

ROXANNE WOLF

YOU BETTER BARK LIKE YOU WANT IT!

she’s a dom. she just is.

god I miss that fic I wrote.

she’s so fucking cocky in bed. it’d be insufferable if she wasn’t so hot and so good at sex.

if who she’s fucking is AFAB she’s EATING IT!!!! YOU CAN BET ON IT THAT SHE DOES MUNCH!

if they’re AMAB then you can expect her to lean them back on her chest and give them the most intense handjob of their life.

in general, the animatronics are stronger than people, so when they’re rough they’re still not going at their hardest. that would actually just kill you.

she’s a show-off. she’ll leave marks in very noticeable places on purpose so that everyone knows that you’re getting fucked by THE Roxanne Wolf

she’s a hair puller. I just know she likes to wrap her claws up in it and pull.

don’t fucking pull hers though, she doesn’t like that shit.

yeah her tail wags when you eat her out, what about it? don’t point that shit out, it’s embarrassing to her.

she curses so much during sex.

the strap is purple and THICK. if you want more then she’ll just hit up Chica for a new one. Chica is more than happy to help. and more than happy to watch.

she’s only the jealous type if its some rando loser. THEN she’ll fuck the living shit out of you while telling you how she’s the best and making you repeat it back to her.

if it’s Monty or Chica? If you’d be into it too, then yeah, she’ll share.

…Freddy is more of a hard sell, but it’s not a hard no.

it’s more of a “Yeah yeah yeah but why do you wanna fuck the dumbass bear? Why him? Monty’s got a bigger one, I’ll tell you that.”

yeah but roxy baby his doesn’t vibrate

she comes off a winning high after a particularly close race, she’s going to go feral on you

with those eyes of hers, she can find you wherever you go. so if she’s randomly in the mood and her partner is there, even halfway across the pizzaplex, she’s on her way to pull you into her room and take some “private time.”

MONTGOMERY GATOR

hhhhhhooOOOHHH BOY

y’all remember the start of SB where he’s fucking up his room?

prepare to be destroyed HSGDHJSGBDNH

degrades. degrades the fuck out of you. it’s a toss up between Roxy and Monty who’s the more cocky, but he’s certainly meaner.

LONG ASS DICK. IT’S HUGE WITH ALL SORTS OF BUMPS AND RIDGES AND SHIT.

head pusher IF you’re okay with it. consent is mandatory.

he’d grab all his partner’s hair if they had any to grab, even just an INCH and go ham.

his long ass dick matches his long fucking tongue.

loves giving lethal backshots LOOOOOOOORD HAAAAAAAAVVVEEEE MEEERCYYYYYY

he’s not only breaking the bed, it’s straight up sawdust. idk how his partners live but they certainly live happily after.

as cocky as he is, he’s not exactly a selfish lover by any means. yeah, he’ll edge you, but he also likes to get his partner real sloppy if you catch my drift.

he aims to make you cry from pleasure. it’s straight up his goal.

i just know he knows EXACTLY where all the right spots are. you don’t even gotta tell him, inside or outside, no matter personal preference, he can always pinpoint his partner’s sweet spots

and then he proceeds to abuse the fuck out of that knowledge

he gets so jealous over Freddy, it’s insane

he sees his partner in his merch, he’s ripping it to shreds.

Roxy is less of a threat. That can be more of a collaborative effort.

he honestly doesn’t know how much of a freak in the sheets Chica is. If he had a threesome with her and she whipped out her chest of fun he’d be like “DAMN BITCH WHERE’D YOU GET ALL THOSE” and she’d be like “^-^ wanna see my buttplug collection? :>” LMFAOOO

GROANER. he GROANS LIKE CRAZY

also a bit of a growl but NOT in the cringe tiktok way don’t worry

HOPE YALL ENJOYED!!! I really hope I can start to find my old community with this :)

[unholyhelbig]

new oversight will be everything! i can’t wait!

Title: Work Life Balance [an Oversight Oneshot]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Summary: When reader gets hurt during a job, she starts to worry about how her girlfriend, the infamous mafia boss that controls the city, will react

[a/n: while this isn't a new chapter of Oversight (I am working on that), it is set in the same universe as the Oversight. It's based off of a Private Practice episode, and something a little lighter & silly. Enjoy!]

Warnings: Gun violence, blood, spit, threats, blood, hurt/comfort, No spell checks

Check out the full Oversight universe

[ Part one | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven ]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

The metal bat had slammed against the side of your face with enough force to blind you momentarily in the right eye. It knocked the sense out of you too and your bearings were scrambled until that darkness started to ebb away into a blurry image of the alleyway.

There was a pungent scent in the air, rotted food in dark green trash bags that had been torn by tiny teeth, or elongated claws. Crumpled napkins and discarded soda cups littered the damp ground.

Before the man could swing the bat for a second time, you caught it half an inch from your face and shoved it away. He was disarmed and you were able to shove his back up against the wall, holding him there despite his squirming. His lip was split, the blood drying quickly from the bright red to a deep black.

“Come on, man.” You twisted your hand into the fabric of his shirt, bunching your fingers around his collar. “We fronted the product, so you have to front the cash.”

“Fuck off,”

He spit on you, a gummy mix of tobacco and sugar. There were a lot of things you could handle; the ringing in your ear, and the pain in your knuckles from the first four blows you threw. But spit was where you drew the line. It had bugged you since you were in fifth grade and Amy Sheldon dangled a long string of it inches from your nose before slurping it back up through the slit in her buck teeth.

“Alright,” you breathed out, making sure you kicked the fallen bat out of his reach. “You agree to push product on that little street racer of yours in exchange for twenty five percent of the cut. You get sloppy and sample the product and don’t have the cash to give to my boss?”

You lifted him from the brick and shoved him back down onto it with enough force to push the putrid breath from his lungs. “That doesn’t feel very fair, now, does it?”

He smiled at you with a laugh that rivaled a cackle. His teeth were orange with diluted blood. There was no getting through to him. Your free hand dipped into the side of your jacket. Over the last two years, you’d grown well accustomed to the feeling of a gun in your hand.

You pushed the tip of the gun under his chin into the soft spot of his skin. He stopped laughing, the sound getting stuck in his throat with a choking sound.

“Do you know what they call me?” You gritted.

“A raging bitch?”

You made a buzzing noise in the back of your throat, much like the signaling of a wrong answer on a game show. There was a soft click as you pulled the trigger of the gun. The man in your grasp tensed and hissed.

“Wrong. You know, at first, I just forgot to load my gun. Got me into some pretty hot water, scalding actually. But eventually it became a bit of a calling card. Roulette. I can pull the trigger as many times as I want, but only one will hit it’s mark.”

He swallowed hard, you felt it in the side of your hand. He was sweating and you were growing tired of the empty threats. Yelena wouldn’t approve of something like this, and you were sure Natasha wouldn’t have had a second thought about putting a mark between his eyebrows.

“Most men aren’t lucky more than twice,” You pulled the trigger again, met with another soft click. Of course, there were no bullets in the chamber; they rattled in your front pocket like your keys. “Three times at most.”

His voice cracked. “Please,”

There was a sharp scent in the air that rivaled that of trash. You were losing blood fast. It had streaked down the side of your face from a gash on your temple and crusted the collar of your shirt.

“You have a week to make up the difference. A week and I’ll be back with a gun that has more than one bullet in the chamber. Am I clear?”

“Yes, but-“

“Am I clear?”

He nodded aggressively and you sheathed your weapon, releasing him. His legs gave out and he sunk to the damp pavement. You picked up the weighted metal back, entirely content to take it with you. It would make your next encounter a hell of a lot easier.

It was impossible to sneak into the house without giving yourself away. Even if you were to park down the block, unlace your shoes and pad into the foyer barefoot, and leave the front door open a crack, you were at risk of creating a scene.

That didn’t mean that you couldn’t keep the injured side of your face away from Natasha for as long as possible. She would know that something was up, and despite her throwing you into this life in the first place, her heart broke when you were on the deep side of any injury.

You set the metal bat down with a bucket of black umbrellas and a bench that was mostly unused. There was a dull metal thump that aggravated the headache that was coming on. You attempted to sneak up the stairs, but the second your fingertips hit the mahogany handrail you were stopped by an irritated voice with a Russian lilt to it.

Yelena was sprawled out on the sofa, a book was face down on her chest, lifting and falling with each breath. She’d given up on it in favor of the warmth that Kate provided her. Kate’s head was on Yelena’s shoulder, her arms wrapped around her midsection. Yelena looked perfectly comfortable in between Kate’s legs, both of them were about ready to doze off and if you had waited an extra five minutes, maybe you would have gotten away with sneaking in.

“Did you get hit by a bus?” Kate asked.

You leaned against the entryway of the sitting room. “Ricky got a good hit in with a metal bat.”

“Oo, Natasha is going to be mad at you.” Yelena chuckled, taunting you like a child. You would have thrown a pillow at her if Kate wasn’t in the line of fire.

She was going to be mad at you for not using the buddy system that was proposed and certainly for not dodging the hit that was coming your way. Natasha hated when you got hurt and that sad look in her eyes was worse than whatever pain could be inflicted on you.

“It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“It looks pretty bad.” Kate said.

You shot them both the middle finger before turning away and padding up the stairs towards your shared bedroom with Natasha. Most days, she was holed up in her office and you didn’t bother her until the ache for her touch, for her presence, bothered you both enough to cave.

That was most days.

Some days, Natasha could be found in your room in sweatpants with a laptop propped up on her crossed legs. She was dwarfed in the silk bedspread, her hair in a messy bun and a pair of glasses on the bridge of her nose.

This was quite possibly your favorite look on Natasha, this quiet version of her. She’d let you hold her in this state instead of the other way around. You hated to break the mood, hated that she glanced up from her laptop not once, but twice.

Wordlessly, Natasha set her work aside and walked over to you. She cupped your face, her fingers cold against your cheeks. Her voice was soft and when she was angry enough, there was the slightest bit of a Russian inflection to her words. “What happened?”

“I… didn’t use the buddy system.”

“Mm, you didn’t use the buddy system.”

Her thumb moved against the black and blue wound against your eye. She pressed every so slightly, testing its durability. You winced, drawing in a breath through clenched teeth. It wasn’t bad, really, her touch soothed you just as quickly as it had bitten you with pain.

Natasha was good at taking care of you and she pulled you into the large master bathroom that the two of you shared. There was an abundance of white and beige. It was always a few degrees cooler than the rest of the house and offered a form of comfort as such.

There were nights where the two of you would simply brush your teeth shoulder to shoulder, and there were nights where she had her arms wrapped around you amongst the deep scent of lavender. Bubble hit her touch as her fingers roamed over the most intimate parts of you.

Now, she guided you to the edge of the sink and lifted you up in a fluid motion. She stood between your legs, making you feel even more like a child when Yelena had scolded you downstairs. Still, there was a degree of affection in her movements. Natasha frowned as she pulled a med kit from the bottom of the sink.

She tutted “Zaychik, this looks bad.”

“Image wise or the actual wound because-“You let out a small noise when she placed the frigid and stinging antiseptic against your face. It sent electric down your spine. “I didn’t know he had a bat.”

“A bat?”

“Right out of left field.”

Natasha’s frown deepened. This was supposed to be an easy job, and by all means, it was. You had accomplished your assignment of scaring up. You were sure he had released his bladder as he slid down the wall into a fetal position. Getting the money from a frightened man was going to be no problem.

Tonight was intended to be calm. You’d come home and shower and eat pizza and spend the entire night curled up in Natasha’s arms while she typed away on the computer. You’d listen to her breathing, her heartbeat.

Instead, she was roughly patching you up, buzzing with anger under her stare. “Why didn’t you take Clint?”

“Nat, I have a fantastic idea.”

“If it involves gutting that man alive and hanging him from a flagpole, then I am all in, darling.” Her words were light, distracted, as she wiped away a good portion of dried blood.

“What if we left things at the office, metaphorically speaking. What if we didn’t bring stuff like this home? Shut it all off.”  

She pulled back far enough to stifle her floral scent. There was an adorable crease between her eyes. “My mind doesn’t work like that, Malysh. This home is my office and vice versa. Someone hurt you and that is my business. That is my work.”

“I know,” you said, tucking a strand of fallen hair behind her ear. She glowered under her thick-framed glasses. You wanted nothing more than to kiss the frown off her face. “I know, but sometimes I just want to be with you.”

“Huh,”

“Huh?”

“Huh.”

This wasn’t exactly a constructive conversation. You figured as much when she ripped a bandage out of its waxy packaging and slapped it onto the gash against your temple. You let out a disgruntled noise and she grasped your waist and maneuvered you back to the floor. Your legs had fallen asleep and you were a little unsteady.

Natasha flicked on the sink and started scrubbing her hands of your blood. “No sex,”

“What?” You blinked at her, scratching fruitlessly at the adhesive on the bandage. It was incredibly itchy.

Natasha dried her hands on the nearby towel, “You heard me, no sex.”

“You… You’re withholding sexual pleasure because of something that happened at work?”

“Not something that happened at work, your refusal to talk about it.”

“Natasha,” You nearly whined.

“No sex!” She huffed, pointing towards the exit of the room “Go sleep on the couch.”

You dropped your shoulders in defeat. You had been banned to the couch? Your girlfriend didn’t’ withhold most things and the two of you had a very healthy and active life. There wasn’t true anger behind her words, instead she was testing you. Watching you until you give in.

“Fine,” You huffed, crossing your arms “The couch sounds lovely.”

“Good,”

“Great.”

“Fine.”

You grabbed the fuzzy blanket at the base of the bed and started to stalk towards the door. You could feel Natasha staring at you, waiting for you to turn around and apologize but it wouldn’t happen. Not this time. You were setting boundaries and if that included…no sex… then that was fine. It was fine.

“Zaychik?”

You turned back to Natasha, one eyebrow lifted, “Yes?”

“Leave the blanket.”

She gave you a sugary sweet smile before settling back into her previous position, pulling her computer into her lap. Your jaw was agape, but you tossed the blanket at her nonetheless and stormed out of the room.

The nerve, the absolute nerve!

Natasha wasn’t particularly hard to have a conversation with, but work was nearly untouchable with her. You knew that. She knew that. You did as you were told and protected her and her assets at all costs.

When you got back downstairs you fixed yourself a sloppy peanut butter and jelly sandwich before sulking back into the living room and flopping down onto the recliner in the corner. Yelena had since fallen asleep, and Kate was reading the book while her eyes grew heavy.

“You got kicked out, huh?”

“Kicked out, banned from sex.” You waved the sandwich around in the air “doghouse.”

Kate scoffed “the Romanoff sisters aren’t always the most forthcoming, are they?”

She was looking lovingly at Yelena, stroking her hair as the smaller woman curled deeper into her, fingers clenching at Kate’s flannel and then releasing as she settled back into a comfortable sleep.

“They make it hard to love them, but the moments where the mask slips and they’re vulnerable. Moments like these make everything worth it. And despite everything, you know they care. They’ll always care.”

“Sometimes too much,” you took a large bite of your sandwich.

“No such thing.”

Yelena stirred in her arms, nose pressed against Kate’s pulse point. She clenched her eyes tighter, her next words mumbled “Kate Bishop, if you don’t stop talking you will be sleeping on the couch with y/n.”

“Doghouse,” You said with a long sigh.

“Mm,” Kate hummed, letting out a quiet whisper “Doghouse,”

[Taglist🕷♡: @dumbasslesbi, @lostremind, @toouncreativeforausername @autorasexy @eringranola @mikookaaaaaao @marvelwoman-simp @pacmanmiles @mostlymarvelsstuff, @mrsrushman, @milfsandtittyenthusiast, @random-raccoon4, @ravenromanova, @mysticalmoonlight7, @ahintofchaos@cowboyboots236 @lissaaaa145, @natsxwife]

[nowimjustastranger]

Omg I just saw your somebody to call my own au and I’m SO intrigued I’d love to hear any more stuff u plan

Sure thing! I have two works that I'm particularly excited to write and I'll share the first one with you guys! If any of you want the general plot of my second favorite work in this series, let me know!

Also, the main Ford of the series (419"3) is gonna be called "Ford" while 6D-31 will be referred to as "Stanford" to avoid confusion.

In Dimension 6D-31, Stan is meant to die by his brother's hands via crossbow.

Ford 419"3 usually stays away from matters that involve Bill due to his own trauma. But he can't let Stan die like that, in pain with the last thing that he knows is his brother shot him. So Ford steels himself and opens a wormhole, stepping into Gravity Falls.

Even so, he spent so long agonizing about what to do that he barely gets there in time, forced to improvise when Stanford pulls the trigger. Ford's body teleported before he could think of a plan, catching the bolt right before it buried itself in Stan's throat, the sharp tip millimeters away from his Adam's apple.

There's a moment of stillness as everyone processes what just happened, and then Ford is grabbing Stan and hauling him backward, toward the dense woodland. It's a test, and whether Stanford passes or fails will determine how Ford proceeds.

Stanford drops the crossbow like it had burned him, stumbling after Stan while looking two seconds away from either keeling over or crying (or both) as he profusely apologizes. Stan looks like he's still in shock, not even struggling as Ford manhandles him, simply staring at his brother with wide eyes.

Finally, they both seem to register Ford's existence at the same time, Stan immediately trying to escape his unwavering grip while Stanford starts getting aggressive, looking akin to a rabid animal as he follows them from a distance.

The brothers are shouting at him, Stan demanding to be released while Stanford is barking questions about why he was here. Ford lifts Stan clear off the ground and turns to bolt, Stan cursing in a suspiciously shrill pitch that gives away his fear. Stanford reacts to the sound viscerally, rushing Ford and tackling both of them to the snowy ground.

Stanford’s priority is very clearly getting his brother out of Ford’s grip instead of trying to unmask him, so there’s hope for this paranoid mess of a man. Stanford wrenches Stan away from him, shoving Stan behind him and stubbornly placing himself between Stan and the perceived threat, all but sitting on his brother they’re pressed so close together.

Ford stays seated, watching how they interact closely. Stan is on the verge of a full blown panic attack, desperately clutching his brother’s trench coat. Stanford notices that he’s not the only one breathing harshly and, while he doesn't take his eyes off of Ford, he does reach back to press his palm against Stan’s hip.

Stan’s breathing evens out as the Fords stare at one another, Stanford obviously sizing him up. The brothers tense as Ford gracefully rises to his feet, Stan subtly trying to adjust Stanford so he’s the one protecting his brother instead. But Stanford’s not having it, holding on to one of Stan’s belt loops to keep his little brother behind his body.

Stanford lunges for Ford when he pulls out the memory gun, but Ford dodges his sloppy attack as he inputs his own dimension number and name before shooting his head since Stanford left him wide open.

Stanford reacts predictably, rushing to his brother’s side when he folds, barely catching him before he hits the ground face first, Stanford looks up just in time to see the memory gun level with his face before Ford pulls the trigger.

Ford then uses the gun to alter their memories of the previous events, replacing his interference with Stan slipping on the icy porch when he recoiled from the crossbow that had been shoved in his face. He tripped down the steps, the bolt whizzing past his face in a near miss.

Ford then puts Stan in his car and locks the doors to give Stan the sense of safety and privacy he’ll need after such a close call. Meanwhile, Stanford gets crammed into a corner in the shack, curled up as if he had merely disassociated.

Stan wakes up first, unable to remember what happened after the bolt had almost hit him, but he chalks the lost time up to shock. He barely has time to try and get his breathing under control as his mind reels from what almost happened when the shack door is thrown open and Stanford stumbles out looking half dead. Stanford’s wild eyes rake over the surrounding area until they find his eyes through the windshield.

Stanford practically trips down the stairs as he rushes to the car, though he stops outside the driver’s door, pressing his hand against the glass as he peers in with a flashlight that Stan squints against when it hits his eyes. Stanford suddenly relaxes, his gaze mapping out Stan as if he’s afraid that Stan will disappear if he blinks, and Stan finds himself unlocking the doors.

Stanford rips the door open immediately and, before Stan can reprimand him for being so rough with his car, Stanford throws himself at Stan to drag him into a crushing hug. Stan is stunned into silence as Stanford babbles into the crook of his neck, apologizing and promising that he didn’t mean it and he would never intentionally hurt Stan. The words ache in their familiarity.

Stan hugs Stanford back, pressing his cheek against his brother’s as he mumbles his own apology. Stanford is confused until Stan elaborates, apologizing for the project and for not realizing how much he had hurt Stanford by not saying sorry right away and bringing up his stupid dream instead.

Stanford’s face is unreadable for a moment as he pulls back just enough to search Stan’s face for something, but when he finds it his expression crumples and he hides his face back in the crook of Stan’s neck.

Stan gently prods Stanford about going inside, Stanford mutely nodding but not letting go. Stan can’t help the warmth that floods him, nuzzling his cheek against Stanford’s head with a content exhale. Stan knows they’ll separate eventually, but he lets himself enjoy the contact as a renewed spark of hope flickers in his chest.

[sturnina]

Rule number one

Dealer!Chris x Fem!reader

— tags;; drug use, a lot of curse words, no use of y/n, arguments, angst

— wc;; 1.7k

— author‘s note;; my take on dealer!chris since I find it concerning that people think it‘s a good idea for him to be a druggie, hope you enjoy <3

Rule number one is clear. You are aware of it, Chris is aware of it, everyone knows. The dealer does not take their own stuff. Because what happens then? It goes down way too fast. It is too dangerous.

Everyone knows. With an almost infinite supply of more, always more, it is a risk you cannot take.

And yet, you’re here. Standing in front of Chris, with a deep and dark pit in your stomach. Fuck. His eyes are clearly dilated, and his heart is racing—you can feel it through his shirt when you press your hand against his chest. He mutters something incoherent, a smile dripping from his lips.

“What was it?” you mumble, more to yourself. At least you’re alone with him, away from his brothers or customers. “What did you take?” you ask again, louder this time while gripping his chin and forcing him to look at you.

No. Wrong approach. Violence doesn’t help. But fuck, you need to know what it was.

“Was it K? Ketamine? Chris, did you take Ketamine?” you ask, slowly rubbing his shoulders. Oh, please let it be Ketamine.

He laughs and launches forward, embracing you tightly. “Shush Ma, you’re making me all worried,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your head. “It’s alright. It will be alright, trust me.”

The pit in your stomach deepens while the machinery in your mind runs at full speed. Racing heartbeat. Emotional closeness. Dizziness maybe? From the way he is swaying, you can tell he is more than a little lightheaded. **

“What do you feel?” you ask him, pulling away a little to look at him. “How are you feeling? Are you disoriented? Drowsy?”

Chris shakes his head, sighing deeply. “Doesn’t matter,” he mutters, his voice getting a slight slurred edge.

“Do you have a headache? Or an increased appetite?”

“No?” His voice is disinterested—he clearly could not care less. Unfortunately, this is all you care about at the moment. Increased body temperature, sweating, slurred speech…

“Chris, did you take MDMA?”

“Mmh…” he says, pulling you close again and peppering kisses to your head. “No, it was a longer name…”

“Ecstasy, Chris.” A slight undertone of desperation lies in your voice. How does he not remember the simplest things? “MDMA is Ecstasy. Did you take it or not?”

“Why does it matter?” he asks, pulling away to look at you. His movements are unpredictable and confused—clearly, he does not see the way you do right now. Even if just through his energy. “Come on, let’s go back inside and have fun. Dance with me, pretty girl, yeah?”

He grabs your hands, but you refuse. “You can’t go back in there,” you say sternly.

“But the party isn’t over,” he complains. “I still gotta dance… and deal.”

“You can’t. Deal, I mean.” A lump forms in your throat at the confused look he shoots at you through half-lidded eyes.

“What? Sure I can! Look, I still have-” The second he pulls out a small bottle of pills, you snatch it out of his hand. And you were right—it’s X, MDMA, clarity, whatever you want to call it.

“Chris you have to stop dealing.”

“I know you’re always worried about me, Ma,” he says with a sloppy grin. “But you know I have everything under control. No one’s going to get too dangerous.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” you sigh, stepping closer. “Chris, you have to stop dealing. You broke rule number one. You have a practically infinite supply of drugs, and you just started taking them. What do you think is happening now?”

He frowns, clearly having difficulties concentrating. Fuck, how long does Ecstasy last? You go through your memory, trying to find anything about it. From one up to… was it five? Six hours? Fuck.

“We’re going,” you say, grabbing his hand and pulling him out of the room you searched for shelter from the party.

The second you step outside, into the main area, the music clogs up your ears. Smoke burns in your lungs, mixed with the smells of alcohol and sweat. You’ve never been a fan of parties like this, but you came with Chris more and more often, wanting to look out for him—even though you wouldn’t be able to do anything in an extreme case.

But today, you’re infinitely grateful for having come with him. Who else would force him to go home and not take another pill? His brothers don’t even know what’s going on behind the scenes, he’s taken care of that.

Back at your car, you force him into the passenger seat. Now looking at him, restlessly playing with the decoration on your glovebox, you’re almost relieved he did it. Just because it means he has to stop dealing. As soon as he’s sober, he’ll realise that too.

After getting into the driver’s seat, you lock the doors and reach out a hand. “Give me your phone.”

“Huh?” he asks, pulling out his iPhone.

“Not that one. The burner one.”

Frowning deeply, he crosses his arms. “No.”

“Yes. Chris, do it.”

“No way. That’s the only contact I have with customers and the supplier,” he protests.

“Exactly. Hand it over, I’m not asking you again.” Your fingers move twice in your direction, a sign everyone knows. Come on, you think, don’t make this more complicated.

“A’ight,” he mutters, pulling it out of his back pocket and going back to fiddling with something he found in your car. You couldn’t care less what it is.

“Good,” you mutter, quickly chucking the phone into the backseat from where you’ll pick it up later. For now, you need to get Chris home.

The drive back is silent, except for when he occasionally starts humming a melody and then abruptly stops, grinding his teeth.

“Don’t do that,” you mutter, watching him out of the corner of your eye.

“Stop telling me what to do,” he replies, staring ahead like a pouty kid. “I can take care of myself.”

“Clearly,” you scoff, a wave of anger bubbling up in your chest.

How could he be so careless? How could he possibly have thought that taking drugs as a goddamn drug dealer is okay? That it works? He knows the dangers of every drug. He’s seen people get completely wasted, slowly destroying their lives and the ones of the people around them.

Why would he do this to you? To his brothers? His friends and family?

Tears are burning in your eyes and you blink rapidly to focus your gaze on the street.

“Ma? ‘re you crying?” Chris asks. His voice is softer but clearly slurred now. The drug seems to be kicking in.

You open your mouth to say something, but not a single sound escapes your lips.

“Why are you crying, love?” he whispers.

“Why would you do that?” you finally ask. “You know drugs. You know what they do. You know they destroy lives. Fuck, Chris, what’s going on? Why did you take it?”

The car is silent, and nervosity settles in the pit of your stomach.

“Chris…?” you ask again. “Why did you take it?”

“I js wanted to try,” he mumbles. It’s clearly not the only answer, but now is not the time to figure out what exactly led him to be so stupid.

After stopping the car in front of your house—you won’t let Nick and Matt see him in this state—, you force Chris outside, into the cool air. He doesn’t react, even as you start shivering. You quickly fetch the burner phone from the backseat and lead Chris inside, pushing him through the front door and to the couch. He seems restless and refuses to sit down, so you let him wander around.

While he’s still in his drug-induced haze, you sit down at the kitchen island and open the flip phone. The first number is his suppliers’, you know that, saved simply as G. It rings only once before he picks it up.

“You run out this quickly?” he asks. No greeting, no nothing.

“No,” you reply. The tension is palpable, even through the phone.

“Who are you?” G asks cautiously.

“You will not supply C anymore,” you say, careful not to use Chris’s name. “Do you understand me?”

“Tell me who you are and I’ll consider,” he repeats.

“That’s none of your business. If you sell to Chris-” Fuck, fuck fuck. “If you sell to him again, I will find out and send the police after you.”

The guy chuckles. “Easy. I’m sure we can talk about this. You his girlfriend?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, running a hand over your face.

“You worried about him or something?”

“Obviously,” you scoff. “I don’t want him to become an addict. That’s normal, I fear.”

“He wouldn’t. I’ve been supplying to him for a while, he does it for the money, not the drugs,” G says, apparently unimpressed. “Just stay out of his business, yeah? This is no place for little girls.”

“You listen to me, you little fuck,” you hiss, jumping up from the chair. “I know who you are and from where you supply. I know the faces of all the little dealers around here, and they’re all connected to you. I know what parties you go to, and what people you know. I’ve seen you. And I will get you if you deal with my boyfriend again. He took Ecstasy today. And trust me, I know what happens next. I’ve seen it happen. So if one of us ever hears from you again, you will be caught, I promise.”

A stunned silence fills the phone. The only sounds you hear is the clock on the kitchen wall ticking… and heavy breathing behind you.

You whip your head around. Chris stares at you with confused eyes. He reaches out for the phone, but his movements are too uncoordinated, and you dodge his hand.

“Is that G?” he asks, slurring his words more than before. “Why would you- what are you doing?”

“Making sure you don’t go down that path,” you say sternly.

Since you have no more to say to G, and you don’t care to hear his answer, you hang up the phone and guide Chris upstairs, leaving the burner phone on the kitchen counter.

“Come on, let’s go to bed.”

“But ‘m not tired,” he protests, still energised from the Ecstasy.

This is going to be a long night.

masterlist

[forever-rogue]

Hi! If you’re taking requests then can I please ask for you to write a Joel x Reader one where Joel and Reader have been dating for a long time and are now finally happily living in Jackson (with Ellie), and it was all going fine until Joel’s PTSD is randomly triggered and he accidentally hurts Reader when she touches him as a way to check on him and offer him comfort like she normally would do during one of his panic attacks?

Like maybe they’re at a family bbq (with Tommy and his wife) or the bar or even at their own home when something — whether it be a certain sound, smell, word, etc. — triggers him to the point where he is totally out of it and gets startled when Reader touches him, causing him to slightly hurt her by grabbing her wrist or whatnot because he mistakes her as a threat. Once he snaps out of his PTSD episode, he immediately feels horrible and regretful despite how much Reader tries to assure him that she’s okay and it wasn’t his fault. But it’s not enough; he starts to distant himself out of fear that he’d potentially hurt her again and out of fear that he’d finally done something enough that’ll make her want to leave him. Reader catches on though and then does her best to make Joel realize that she doesn’t blame him for what happened, she’ll always be there for him — through the good, bad, and ugly —, and she’ll never leave him because he’s the love of her life. Just basically a whole lot of hurt and comfort (with a hint of angst and fluff) lol.

(Ah, I’m so sorry that this ended up being such an annoyingly long and detailed ask! I was struggling with how to express my idea in words, and just ended up rambling… I hope it’s okay! 😭 Please feel free to change anything — you’re incredibly talented, so I completely trust your wherever your creativity takes you if you choose to write this).

Anyway! Thank you so much for writing and sharing all of your stories — your writing is truly outstanding and really just your account as a whole is one of my absolute favorites! 🫶🏻

AN | Please, this is so cute but sad, but there’s also a happy ending 💕

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language, Mentions of PTSD

Word Count | 2.8k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Think you made enough food?” you felt Joel’s arm at the small of your back as you set up the desserts you had made. You turned to him and pretended to huff before playfully swatting his hand away, “I think you’ve got enough for the whole of Jackson.”

“I never hear you complaining, Joel Miller,” you grabbed one of the chocolate cookies you’d made and took a bite before offering half to him. He playfully bit it out of your hand, causing you to giggle at him, “no manners, Mr. Miller. None at all!”

“I,” he mumbled through a mouth of cookie, “am a perfect gentleman, darlin’.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” you uncovered the rest of the baked goods you’d prepared and marveled at your handiwork, “this is a family barbeque but you know that basically means everyone will be here since we’re all basically one big, weird family. Hence, I made plenty.”

“What’s a smart woman like you doing with a fool like me?” he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you in a for a sweet kiss, practically beaming when you pulled back, “baby.”

"Don't baby me, Miller," you planted a playful, sloppy kiss on his cheek, "go on and help your brother with the barbecue so we can actually eat."

"Fine," he clutched at his heart as he scoffed before making his way over to Tommy. You couldn't help but watch him go, shaking your head in amusement. This man.

-

The world might have been different from how it once used to be, but one of the things that never changed was the love of fireworks. Jimmy and Sandra had somehow managed to come up with a cache of them on one of their last trips out of Jackson. 

Naturally, the brilliant idea that they could be used at the barbecue was proposed and it wasn't hard to convince the younger Miller brother to go ahead with it. Under controlled circumstances, it would all be fine. 

And realistically it should have been fine…you had no reason to think that it wouldn't be. But life didn't seem to agree with you and had a completely different idea. 

You were standing with Ellie, your arms wrapped around her shoulders and you hugged onto her, waiting to see all the pretty fireworks. It hit you then and there - Ellie had never seen fireworks before! The idea in and of itself seemed wild. 

Her entire face was lit up from her big smile and the sparkling lights as the two of you watched the ones Tommy had set off. 

"Pretty cool, huh?" You pressed a kiss to the top of her head before realizing that something, or someone rather, was missing, "I'm going to go and find Joel. I'll be right back!"

Ellie was so distracted that she didn't even take much note of you leaving. It only took a few minutes before you found him near the back of the house, picking at something from one of the tables, or so you thought anyway.

"Babe?" You weren't sure if he could hear you over the clambering of the crowd and the fireworks; he didn't turn around. You walked closer to him and reached for him, "Joel?"

And then it happened all at once; he turned around and grabbed your wrist, twisting your arm at a painful angle and causing you to cry out. His eyes were dark but there was nothing there, just an empty hollowness. 

“Joel!” you tried to pull out of his tight grip but that only made things more painful. He wasn’t letting go and you didn’t know what to do - he clearly wasn’t him right now. You struggled with him for a few moments before you heard someone running up and yelling at Joel to stop. 

You looked up and felt a wave of relief wash over your body when you realized it was Tommy. If there was anyone that could help in this situation, it would be him. Tommy managed to pry Joel’s hands off you, the sheer force causing you to stumble backwards and fall onto your butt. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Tommy’s hands were on Joel’s shoulders as he tried to get him to snap out of his trance. You’d never seen him like this and it was as scary as it was heartbreaking. You didn’t fully know what was going on but you had a fairly good guess, “Joel, this isn’t real, it’s just a memory. You’re okay, you’re safe, you’re at home with us.”

That seemed to quell him even if it was the slightest bit and he shook his head, almost as if he was trying to shake whatever was going on off. 

“Breathe in and out slowly,” Tommy had a calming effect on your boyfriend who seemed to relax, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly, “look around, we’re at home, we’re safe.”

Tommy took a few steps back and looked at you, an apologetic expression on his face. You swallowed the lump in your throat and as he held out his hand to help you to up and to your feet. Once you were back up, you looked over at Joel to find looking between you and Tommy,

“Joel?” your voice almost cracked as you subconsciously at your sore wrist and sore. His eyes darted to the sore area that was already red and starting to swell. 

His jaw clenched as he let out a long sigh, hanging in head in exhaustion and shame, “I’m…I’m okay.”

Tommy hesitated for a moment before gently wrapping an arm around your shoulder, “let me take you and Ellie home.”

“But-”

“Please?” he asked softly, offering you a pointed look. You realized what he was trying to convey and nodded before letting him lead you away, “I’ll be right back, big brother.”

You cast one last look at Joel but he wouldn’t meet your eyes. Your heart broke a little bit, but you kept repeating to yourself that everything would be alright. This was just a small bump in the road.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When you woke up the following morning, you found yourself alone in bed, Joel’s side still made up and cold. He hadn’t come to bed. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes before putting on your slippers and padding down the hall. You poked your head into Ellie’s bedroom and found the girl fast asleep still; at least she was getting some rest. 

You decided to start a pot of coffee and made your way to the kitchen; when you stepped inside you found him sitting at the table and staring at his hands. You relaxed ever so slightly when you realized he was home…but something was definitely still going on. 

“Joel?” you’d been so quiet that he hadn’t heard you come in, but his head snapped up and looked at you, “h-hey, my love.”

He inhaled shakily before looking you over, his entire face turning into a grimace at the angry haze of bruising on your arm. You realized what he was looking at and moved to tuck your arm behind your back. 

“I hurt you,” was all he managed to see before you could see that his eyes were glistening with tears. You took a few steps closer and shook your head fervently, but he recoiled from you, “I did that to you.”

“No,” the fact that he tried to shy away from you didn’t stop you from getting closer, “you didn’t hurt me - that wasn’t you.”

“It was me,” gingerly, he reached for your hand and pulled out your arm so he could look it over properly. In between the marks you could see the fingerprints etched in there, “if it wasn’t me, who did this to you?”

“Baby-”

“I hurt you,” he repeated, “all because I couldn’t handle the sound of some fuckin’ fireworks.”

“Stop,” you crouched down so you could look up at him since he refused to do so, “please. It wasn’t your fault, and I don’t blame you for this. No one should - it was an unfortunate thing but it’s over and done with this and this bruising will heal and go away. But I am never going away, and if you think this one little thing will do that, then you don’t know me very well.”

“I had no control over what happened,” he was willing to concede at least that much, “and that’s what scares me. What if it happens again? What if it gets even worse the next time? What if-”

“Joel,” you reached up and put your hand on his face, brushing your thumb over his cheek, “you can’t think like that. It’s not healthy….just because it happened once doesn’t mean it will happen again. And, if for some reason it does, we’ll take it one day at a time.”

He reached up and gently removed your hand from his face, causing you to frown deeply, “I can’t trust myself around you. If anything ever happened to you or to Ellie, I would never forgive myself.”

“Joel-”

“I need some air,” he stood up and gently brushed past you, walking outside and into the backyard. You remained rooted in your spot, but sighed heavily, blinking back the tears that threatened to well up. 

Things would be okay, you knew they would…they had to be. Right? Right.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel was still with you, but you could slowly see him growing more and more distant as the days wore on. Despite your reassurances that you were okay, and you still loved him more than anything, it was like he became a shell of his former self. And it wasn’t just with you, which was a bit of reassurance that it wasn’t just you, but it was with everyone. You wished there was something you could do that would easily get him back to his former self. Just as your arm grew better and less bruised, he continued to pull away and create a barrier between the two of you. 

One late night, as you laid in bed reading due to your inability to sleep, Joel came in and slowly closed the door behind him, and leaned against it. When he cleared his throat, you looked up and saw a serious expression on his face. He looked just as tired as you felt. 

“What’s up?” you asked softly as you closed your book and gently set it to the side. He remained silent for a few moments, clearly searching for the right words. Once a few moments of tense silence passed he finally looked at you, "hmm?"

"I've been thinkin'," he shoved his hands into pockets. You sat up straighter and tried to push down the nagging feeling that was already forming in your tummy, "and I think it's best…I should go."

"Go?" You parroted, not fully understanding what he was talking about, "what do you mean, Joel?"

"Go," he waved his hand around, "I don't think I should be here with you and Ellie anymore."

"Oh. Oh," you frowned at him, "so you're just going to up and leave."

"Baby, I - it's not like that," he insisted softly but you weren't just about to let him go. Not that easily, "this is what's best."

You scoffed at him, not even bothering to hide your disappointment, "that's what's best, huh? For who? For who is it best? You?"

"Best for everyone."

"Well that is just a straight up lie," you got out of bed and walked over to him, crossing your arms over his chest, "its not what's best for me at all. Or Ellie."

"Baby," it was softer and much more gentle, and almost resigned in a way.

"Listen - this time I need you to listen to me," you stood in front of him, firm and tall, "this has been going on for weeks now and I'm not just going to let you keep continuing on like this."

"I just…I wouldn't forgive myself if I ever did anything to you or hurt you in any way possible," you could see his Adam's apple bobbing, "its already hard enough knowing that I did." 

"Look," you pulled back the sleeve of your sweater and held up your arm. When he refused to acknowledge what you were doing you kept a cool and even tone, "look at me."

Reluctantly he allowed himself to look at your arm, at the place he had once hurt you. Your arm was back to normal and no remnants of what had once happened. He wrapped his fingers gingerly around your wrist as he tenderly turned your arm to get a better look at it. 

"There's nothing there," you pointed out softly, "and it doesn't hurt at all. I don't think about it anymore and I don't…I never blamed you and I was never scared of you."

"You're saying that now…but what if it happens again?" You could see the genuine concern in his eyes as you reached up and gently touched his face. He closed his eyes and leaned into your touch, something he'd denied himself for what seemed like an eternity by that point.

"If it does, we'll figure it out," you meant every word you said and you hoped he knew that, "Joel, life isn't always easy and it's not always fun. But just because one hard or bad thing happened doesn't mean I'm just going to walk away. That's not who we are and that's not what we do. I'm with you forever and nothing is going to change that."

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, in search of the right thing to say. Instead of verbalizing all that he was feeling, he bowed his head and pressed his forehead to yours.

"If it was me that happened to and I hurt you, would you want me to just leave?" You asked softly and you could feel the shake of his head.

"Of course not," he insisted, "it wouldn't…it would have been an accident."

"Exactly," you whispered, "how do you think I feel about you? I'm not going to let you just go. Not without a fight."

"Really?"

"Of course," you took his face in your hands and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, "I love you, silly man. Nothing is ever going to change that. We'll be together through the good and the bad, through thick and thin. All of it."

And that was what seemed to break him. You could hear him sniffle lightly before a few tears rolled down his cheek. You gently brushed them away before making a small sound of reassurance at him. 

"I love you, baby," he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into his warm, soft body. You felt him relax into your touch as you looped your arms around his shoulders and tucked yourself into his body as best as possible. You could tell that he needed this just as much as you did; he was practically melting into your body, "so much."

"I love you," it was a sentiment whispered in his ear so only he could hear it,"so, so much my love."

"When I hurt you I just…I got so worried."

"It's understandable," you insisted, "anyone would feel that way. But I want you to also understand that I love you and that nothing is ever going to change that."

"I know," a huff of laughter escaped him, "I've always known that."

"Good," you gave him the beaming smile that he still managed to fall in with over and over again, "because I've always known that you love me too. I can't promise everything, but I can promise you one thing."

"What's that?" He trailed his fingers against your jaw.

"That we'll always be together," you pressed kisses to both of his cheeks, "and we'll get through anything. And that I will always love you."

"That's three things," he teased, a glimpse of his true self coming though.

"Joel!" You were laughing though and he loved that sound, "get the sentiment though."

"I do," he agreed gently, "I love you."

"I love you too, Joel Miller."

[actuallysaiyan]

I would like Aizawa as a werewolf with the prompt: “Careful, little mate. You're tempting me right now and I could easily fall into a rut.”

Hehehehehe thanks! I love you! <3

warnings: mentions of drinking, werewolf AU, kissing, biting, oral sex(Fem receiving) pairings: Shouta Aizawa x Fem!Reader

Nobody bats an eye at Shouta’s scruffiness. It’s just the way he looks. He’s always tired, and everyone accepts that. But maybe they don’t notice the little signs pointing to something else like you do. You can tell when he’s lying through his teeth.

Still you try to keep it all to yourself. Who would believe you if you told them that Aizawa sensei is a werewolf? Everyone would think you’re some sort of lunatic really. But still, you can see it. All signs point to that, even if you doubt yourself sometimes.

Then you start to realize something else is happening. Aizawa keeps you closer than before. He’s got his eye on you. You see him smiling a little more when you’re around. He holds himself differently when he looks at you. And he’s definitely keeping a closer eye on you these days.

Despite being teased by Nemuri and Hizashi, you know that maybe it’s just Aizawa trying to be friendly. Maybe the ice had finally been broken between you two. You considered maybe that’s all it was. But deep down, there must be something else going on. There had to be something else going on.

You go out one night with your colleagues. Shouta stays close to you, keeping one hand on you the entire time. You’re not too surprised to find that he keeps all these creeps away. You have a really good time with everyone, and at the end of the night, Aizawa walks you home. You’re really happy that the night went so well.

Once you’re home, you invite him inside. He’s a little reluctant to come in, but he does. You make some tea for the two of you in hopes that you’ll both be able to sober up. Aizawa walks around the sitting and main area, looking around and getting a good feel of what kind of person you are.

You set the tea down on the coffee table and Shouta sits next to you. This is when you get a closer look at him. He definitely has fangs. He definitely is scruffier than you expected. And those eyes…how they seem to shine. You lean in even closer and he smirks.

“You wantin’ a little kiss?” He taunts.

Before you can properly answer, he leans in to kiss you. You eagerly kiss back, wanting to see where this will lead. His hands on your body make you melt. He smells so good too, such a comforting scent. Aizawa eagerly picks you up and brings you onto his lap. The kissing doesn’t stop, if anything it continues to deepen. His tongue tangles with yours as you begin to grind against him.

He sighs, “Careful, little mate. You’re tempting me right now and I could easily fall into a rut.”

Your eyes widen but then you smirk. “A rut huh?”

This is when you begin to grind against him even more. Shouta moans into your sloppy and hungry kisses. Soon he loses his cool and pins you down onto your couch. Loud ripping sounds can be heard as he undresses you violently. You’re definitely making him fall into a rut. 

Fangs glide against your skin before he bites into your neck. Then he moves lower until he can push your legs up to your chest. You let out a loud cry of his name as his tongue presses against your folds. Shouta laps at you fervently, leaving you shaking.

“You should have heeded my warning. Now I’ll be in a rut and only you can help me with this.”

dividers: @adornedwithlight

reblogs and comments always appreciated!

©actuallysaiyan 2024– do not repost on other platforms, copy, translate or edit my works!

[honeyshiddendesire]

Dirty Alphabet - Eustass

Eustass Kid x Female Reader

*This one I got carried away cause he's my boo lol 🥵❤️‍🔥🫦*

*banner*

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

If you're already in a relationship he will be a big snuggler but don't you dare mention it or he'll deny it. If it's a casual/ one night stand thing he'd probably see if you wanna go get drinks…or just bounce up outta there. Lol

B = Breath Play (do they like it done to them or doing the deed)

Loves choking you and knowing he's so strong he could crush your windpipe buttt he's a kinky man so he loves it if you return the favor when you're riding his cock. Your smaller hands trying to squeeze even just the smallest amount of oxygen makes him grunt and groan out curses.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Big mess maker for sure!! Wants to fill you with cum but also wants to cover you in it too. Smear that shit along with your makeup till you're a big sloppy mess that he can tease. If you swallow so be it but he loves shooting it on that pretty face of yours. Also he cums A LOT! So be prepared!

D = Dirtiest Kink (what they think is their dirtiest kink)

Wants to tag team you with Killer which you expected but the real secret is that he thought of sharing you with Law and Luffy. He doesn't know why but the thought plagues his brain. Maybe it's the fighting they've done together in Wano that drew him to the idea but he'll never admit it to you…maybe he'll tell Killer though.

E = Exhibitionist? (Do they like being watched)

Loves attention!!! Watch him all you want but don't think he'll be shy about it baby. That man will solo masturbate and talk you out of your panties in a second to join him. Also loves watching you as well.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Anything to showcases his strength and his big dick. Full nelson, mating press to keep you pinned down and feel his entire length. Also pronebone so you can't push him off and his big arms can cage you in how he likes.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Will crack jokes but always in a teasing way as he's fucking you into the mattress. If you try to make an embarrassing joke though just expect him to scowl.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

I wanna say kind of trimmed cause he looks like he manscapes but he likes having a happy trail of red hair leading to the ‘main treat’.

Idk why but I feel like if you didn't shave he'd go feral. 🤷‍♀️ Idk why lol but I think you not following the usual beauty standards would drive him literally insane lol

I = Initiation (how do they get you going? Vice versa )

He's a horn ball 24/7 so he's super handsy and if he's not touching you he'll spill pure filth no matter who's around. His crew gets a kick out of it but if they try and make comments to you best believe they'll be thrown overboard or spending their time scrubbing their own blood off the deck.

J = Jealous (how do they get when jealous )

It's Kidd…he's territorial. I can totally see him getting jealous and storming off somewhere. But if you've been together a long time he's not asking questions just grabbing you and tossing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes to punish you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Overstimulation Kink! He loves the both of you being fucked out beyond the point of words, shaking and drooling from round after round.

Corruption Kink! If you're a good girl, best believe he wants to change that. Wants to turn you into a horny ticking time bomb, literally desires to turn that shy exterior into a handsy sex machine just like him.

Glasses glasses glasses!!! If you wear glasses it makes you look nerdy/sweet which plays into his corruption Kink and now he can't help but picture what they'll look like covered in his cum. (Totally self indulgent but IDC it's my page lol)

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Anywhere. This man has no shame when it comes to sex on his ship, hell he'll even fuck you in an alley way. Weirdly doesn't like you being seen though so he'll pick positions that he can cover you with his big body. Even covering your mouth so no one can hear the sweet sounds you make for him only.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

He's always horny but loves when you get just as handsy as him though. If you do try flirting he'll make you work for it just to see how far and bold you get.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Can't really think of anything this man won't do tbh lol 🤣 He's a freaky freak.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Loves fucking your face but loves eating pussy, it's his favorite meal. Ask him and he'll be honest.🥵 So sit on his face and then you both can devour each other.

P = Pace (rough and fast, slow and soft)

Depends on his mood. He's always rough but sometimes he'll fuck you slow with deep mind numbing thrusts till you're begging for him. Yet other times he'll fuck you fast and hard till you're shaking and drunk on his cock.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Yes yes yes. Whenever and however many he can get from you he's down.

R = Rope (shibari, bondage? Do they like it?)

Yup whether giving or receiving that man is down. He's a big boy who can take you whipping him or even slapping him across the face while he's tied up. But won't go as hard on you as you can go on him. He knows his strength but won't push yours unless you beg of course.

S = Sharing? (Are they willing to share you?)

Depends on who it is. If it's Killer, absolutely lol If he's having a captains talk with Law and Luffy and they just so happen to mention you he'll freak out in a feral lust but ultimately it's up to you of course.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He makes his own of course. He's a craftsman with many skills and desires so of course he'll come up with something.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

The meanest 🥵 teasing you till you're pouting and begging for relief

V = Voyeur (do they like to watch)

Yup yup! He'll even join you in giving him a show lol

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

If you wear heels, step on him! Not in a submissive way but more in a, “I'm strong those pointy heels won't do shit” type of way. It's like a play on a pain fetish and heel/foot fetish. The feeling of your heels scratching at his shoulders make his groans so much raspier. Will also kiss along your ankles when you wear them telling you how hot they look.

If your feet end up hurting while you walk he'll just toss you over his shoulder before you can even think of removing them.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Thick baby~ heavy dick and veiny with big breeding balls 🤷‍♀️ just saying the man cums alot.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Always on go!!!!

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

His brain can be pretty active so it takes him a minute tbh but he'll cuddle you to sleep and fall out shortly after.

[scarapanna]

The main premise and events in the Intertwined Opposites AU

It's finally here!!!

I've managed to finally make a proper info post for my personal take on this silly possession AU craze as I've planned to do for a while since I'm totally normal about this concept (lie) /silly

Before proceeding, keep in mind that this post is gonna be pretty long as I'll be diving into important story events troughout the first half of it, so it gets the read more treatment as usual!!

There will be no crk spoilers here (except for the beast-yeast episodes), just a ""prologue" to current narrative events in the AU

[[Little edit but there now are some ref sheets for both Shadow Milk and Pure Vanilla!!! They can be found here]]

•The beginning•

Everything starts in beast-yeast, once peace has been returned to the fairie kingdom

Now that the area is mostly free from danger with the silver tree's seal being properly mended, the crowd decides to start repairs and preparations to further celebrate everyone's victory for the remainder of the day.

However, as everyone starts to leave the area, something starts creeping out from the shadows created by the tree's roots

Turns out that Shadow Milk, now severely weakened from the blow taken in battle, has managed to flee from being forced back into his prison once more.

During Lily's blast of magic, he essentially "split" and discarded part of his own power as a last resort, separating what was already being sucked into the renewed seal from himself to avoid getting dragged into containment once more.

Unfortunately for the beast, both his panicked and sloppy procedure combined with the added strenght of the new guardian's spell left him with a very poor amount of strenght, with it not being enough for anything useful.

Needless to say, his mind is filled with hatred and anger as soon as he emerges

he can't really do much with this state, and thus lingers on formulating a plan to get what he wanted from the start, but how?

How would he get back on track, rid himself of the guardian, and break the seal once more like this?

The answer eventually comes to him, just right on top of a bridge alongside the one who restored his prison.

His souljam, the one he was once the owner of

Now "purified" and held by Pure Vanilla, it binds the two together with the virtue of knowledge, split in the lights of truth and deceit during the purification process.

These lights are owned by the beast, and the figure by the bridge in front of him, yet come from the same thing.

Shadow Milk has finally decided on a proper plan.

◆ What comes after and what it leads to ◆

Days pass, turning into a few weeks and ending with a trip back home to take a break and write down what happened during the beast-yeast expedition.

Everything seems to have gone well in the end, yet something still feels..wrong?

It's not the best term for it, but does the job well enough.

The vanilla kingdom is peaceful, and Pure Vanilla's return safe and sound brings back some joy to the citizens.

Yet it just doesn't feel right, he doesn't know what precisely, but the ancient is riddled with an odd feeling almost like being watched.

He might not realise it for now, but he had been right. Someone has been following him inside the castle for the entire duration of the trip.

Pure Vanilla slowly grows more wary as days pass, and his doubts are confirmed as Shadow Milk's idea is proven successful.

In the void Pure Vanilla is confronted by Shadow Milk cookie, he spills everything he's done without esitating twice, as there's no reason to hide it anymore.

Shadow Milk had always been there ever since the re-sealing of the tree, following Pure Vanilla and draining magic at a slow enough rate to not be noticed, until it was enough to take over his body without trouble.

Now that he had a "vessel" to work with, he could keep recharging power and be finally able to do his bidding.

He's questioned multiple times by Pure Vanilla, but he wouldn't budge, and the ancient manages to gather only their location and a few loose details.

This was not a void, this was a ""mind space"" where he was bound to stay while shadow milk used his body as a disguise, and he could not use magic to fight back against the beast.

Being out of options, Pure Vanilla quickly tries to think over what to do, and lingers over the situation to come up with something.

Shadow Milk proposes an idea to Pure Vanilla, sharing the vessel that both are confined in, to be sure he doesn't get caught.

This is only to one condition: the ancient must work in favour of the beast under it's watchful sight at all times

The Ancient complies, and a deal is sealed.

It's not a loss nor a victory, only a beginning

◆The current situation◆

Now that the main prologue is set, what happens precisely to both?

So, Shadow Milk cookie is essentially ""possessing"" Pure Vanilla, but not completely.

The two switch up control of the ancient's body in certain times of the day and night, sometimes Pure Vanilla is granted the lead and when he's not needed Shadow Milk takes it. He's pretty much using the ancient as a puppet, a disguise and a tool for his own gain, assigning him certain tasks so that his plan will work as intended.

Whenever one of them is not in control of their shared ""vessel"", they're send in the mindspace until the shift of control takes place and so on. Shadow milk never gives Pure Vanilla full "freedom" or personal space, having control of the shifts in lead and constantly keeping the ancient under watch trough mirrors and reflective surfaces (The only moments in which he's given alone time is when the beast is asleep in the mind space to retain magic).

The ancient, on the other hand, accepted Shadow Milk's offer right away without esitation, but for a much different reason.

Pure vanilla is trying to get the best out of his situation, and thus feels forced to go against his own morality to keep cookies safe and attempt to alarm them trough hints and hidden messages scattered in the kingdom.

Even if he doesn't like the means, what else could he do to keep everyone safe?

The difficulty of his situation causes him great stress and paranoia, which worsens as time goes on and Shadow Milk regains his powers bit by bit, making his actions more difficult to get away with unnoticed.

Here's some more info regarding the effects of sharing a vessel in two:

• Pure Vanilla and Shadow Milk's connection by souljam makes sharing a body possible, otherwise it would be fatal to most cookies (As they're not made to be vessels).

• The slit in the souljam is a shared element which hints at Shadow milk's presence in both, during control shifts it flickers in different shades of gray.

• Remaining on the topic, control shifts are not plesant in the slightest to both parties involved, being defined by acute physical pain on the area covered by the souljam. This is inflicted on the current cookie in charge of the vessel during the shift, fading away only when back in the mindspace.

•The two can see eachother and comunicate trough reflective surfaces, with them displaying the current entity in the mindspace instead of the one leading the vessel.

• Pure Vanilla's voice sounds somewhat overlapped or distorted when shadow milk is in charge of his body, he can't change this aspect unfortunately for him.

• Certain factors like hunger and thirst are shared between the two due to their predicament, they can sometimes be heard debate over what to eat and when during the day.

• Sleep in the traditional sense is the only factor distinct to the two instead of being shared, as it's strictly based on "individual energy" rather than "shared energy"

[raspberrybesitos]

Deja Vú | javier peña x f!reader

Series masterlist | Main masterlist

Chapter 1 - Helplessly I reminisce

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Chapter summary: After hooking up with you the night before, Javi decides to ask another woman out on a date. Little does he know, you've got plans of your own with another man. What could possibly go wrong?

Chapter warnings: protected PIV, friends with benefits, idiots in love, mutual pining, flirting, pet names (bebita, querida, cariño), Javi is an oblivious asshole, miscommunication trope, reader speaks and understands Spanish, reader is female, no mention of hair type/skin color/body type, NO USE OF Y/N, translations available at end of chapter.

Word count: ~3k

A/N: i couldn’t wait to post, so i decided to split this into 3 parts! i have a few other ideas for this lil universe and one of them is already written! i'm excited to share this one. no intense smut in this chapter (i'm sorry), but future chapters will definitely make up for it! not beta'd, all mistakes are my own.

Divider by @saradika

“Oh, fuck, Javi! Right, hah, r-right there!” You keen, bent in half and pinned underneath Javi. Your ankles hook around his back while he grunts. “Cum for me, hermosa. Damelo bebita. Let me feel it,” Javi growls, his thrusts growing sloppy as his thick cock strokes your g-spot. His words send you over the edge and your body seizes up. You clench around him, screaming as your orgasm crashes over you. Eyes squeezed shut and mouth open wide, moans tumble from your lips. 

Javi’s eyes roll to the back of his head, his chest rumbling as he groans. You feel him twitch against your walls as his hips stutter, a telltale sign that he finished. “Fuck, bebita, squeezed all the cum out of me. So fucking tight,” he groans as he pulls out. You hiss at the loss of him, clenching around nothing.

He removes the condom and rises to his feet. He pads into your bathroom, discarding the condom in the trash can. You hear the water turn on as you lay in bed, your limbs like jelly as you relish in your fucked-out bliss. 

He returns to your bed with a damp washcloth and gently cleans the slick that smeared in between your thighs. Gingerly swiping the washcloth of your chest, Javi smirks as he cleans the precum that dried on your chest from when you blew him earlier. You can’t help but laugh as you playfully swat at his arm. “What was that for?” He says, bursting into laughter. “You’re so smug, Javi! So annoying,” you giggle. “You lov-, uh, you like it, though,” he says, hoping you didn’t hear his slip. Laughter dissolving into comfortable silence, you reach for his face. “I do,” you whisper against his cheek, pressing a kiss to it.

Javi goes beet red as he hides his face in the crook of your neck. You curl your fingers in his hair, twirling strands in your hand as you gently stroke his back with your nails. Javi presses tender kisses to your neck.

He’s practically purring under your touch. Things have grown more intimate with each hookup, but it hasn’t been brought up by either of you. Your mind races with possible outcomes of having that conversation. Would he want more? Would he break this agreement off? Has he noticed any of these things? As if he can read your mind, Javi lifts his head to meet your gaze. 

“You okay, bebita?” He asks, pulling you from your spiral. “Yeah, I’m good, Javi,” you tell him, feigning a reassuring smile. “I can tell when you’re lying, bebita. You’re my best friend. What’s wrong?” His voice is firm, but gentle. You sigh, wishing the earth would swallow you whole in this very moment. 

“I was just wondering if you’re seeing other people? I mean, you can if you want, we’re just hooking up, but I just wanted to know for… ya know… health reasons. Not that I’m accusing you of anything! I’m just -,” he cuts off your rambling with a kiss. Your eyes go wide. The two of you never kiss unless it’s during sex.

You can’t help, but sigh into the kiss as your eyes flutter closed. It lingers for a moment too long, feeling a little too intimate. He pulls back and looks you dead in the eye. “I’m not seeing anyone else, querida,” he rasps. His words soothe your anxiety, and a smile creeps onto your face. Javi gives you the same smile, toothy and goofy. Relishing in his words, he pulls you in closer in a bone crushing embrace. 

“Dejame, I can’t breathe, Javi!” You laugh, playfully pushing him off you. Rising to your feet, you slip on the shirt you were wearing before he showed up tonight, which just so happens to be a shirt he left behind one night. He puts his briefs back on and you hold your hand out for him. He laces his fingers in yours, the smiles never leaving either of your faces.

Leading the two of you into the kitchen, you flash him a wink as you gesture to the bag on the counter while you get a glass of water. His eyes light up and he rushes to rip open the bag. “Cocadas, fuck,” he groans, taking a bite of one. “You’re the best, cariño,” he says through a mouthful. 

They’re his favorite post-coital snack, he always shares one with you in your kitchen after each hookup. You chuckle as you sip your water, silently asking for a cocada with your hand out. He holds it out for you instead to take a bite from it.

Domesticity feels nice with Javi, but you quickly shake that thought off. Silently reminding yourself that he’s just a friend and nothing more. A friend who you have sex with 3 to 4 times a week. The two of you share the cocadas and water in comfortable silence.

Javi glances at the clock and springs up. “Fuck, I gotta be at work in a few hours. I’ll come over later this week, okay, querida?” He says, shoveling down the rest of the pastry. “Sounds good, Javi,” you hum, downing the rest of your water. He rushes into the bedroom to get dressed as you tidy up the counter.

He returns to the kitchen, placing a kiss on your forehead. The two of you flashing each other saccharine smiles. “See you soon, cariño,” he says, rushing to the door. “See you, Javi,” you sigh with a lazy smile on your lips, shutting the door behind you. You trudge to your bedroom, plopping into bed with the same smile on your lips.

The sun burns brightly into your room, rapidly warming up from the Colombian heat. You wake, inhaling as you stretch in bed. The ache in between your legs serves as a reminder of last night’s events, a smirk creeps onto your face. You recall Javi’s words last night and feel giddy all over again. Rising from the mattress, you saunter into the bathroom to shower and get ready for the day. You opt for shorts and a thin t-shirt, trying to stay as cool as you can in the sweltering heat.

You head into the kitchen to make coffee, and go to make your bed as it brews. Grabbing a pen and paper, you make a list of things you need to get on your grocery shopping trip, making a note to stop for more cocadas for Javi on your way back home.

Making your way back into the kitchen, you pour yourself a cup of coffee. You reach for the landline, dialing Javi’s attache’s extension. “This is Stoddard,” Neil answers. “Hi, Neil. Is Javi in?” “Oh, hi! He just got out of a meeting, doesn’t look too happy. Maybe you can cheer him up. I’ll transfer you to his line,” he says. “Hopefully. Thank you so much,” you squeak a little too excitedly. “Hello?” “Hi, Javi,” you mutter, shy at the sound of his raspy voice. “Hi, bebita. You called at the right time. Meeting went to shit,” he sighs, his voice mixed with relief and disappointment.

“I’m sorry, Javi. Hopefully they come to their senses and listen to you. You’re the smartest guy on the case. I’m sure you’ll figure out what to do next.” You hear him chuckle on the other end. “It’s like you have a sixth sense, querida. You just always know what to say at the right times,” Javi mumbles, the smile evident in his voice. A brief, comfortable silence settles over you two. “What are you up to today, querida?”

“I’m going to go grocery shopping in a bit, so I’ll be out all day. I’ll make sure to get som-,” “Can you grab some more cocadas? Please, querida? I’ll pick them up from you after work tonight,” he asks, cutting you off. “Was already planning on getting some,” you giggle. “Thank you, querida. Shit, I gotta go, but I’ll be over later to pick them up,” he says in a rush. “Sounds good. Bye, Javi. Have a good day.” “Bye, querida. I lo-,” he cuts himself off, clearing his throat. It goes silent on both ends. The slip-up is very obvious this time, neither of you know what to say. “Uh, I’ll, uh… see you tonight,” he says, suddenly, his voice devoid of emotion as he hangs up in a haste.

Stunned at his sudden hastiness and switch up, you hang the phone back on the receiver. You gather your usual grocery shopping supplies, your rolling wire cart and bags. Setting out on your trek, you can’t help but replay Javi’s slip-ups in your mind. Twice - he almost said that word twice.

Javi runs through your mind your entire shopping trip, his slip-ups and the conversation from last night playing on a loop. If the two of you are only seeing each other, then why are you still only hooking up? Sneaking around in the middle of the night? Only meeting in your apartment? Best friends don’t just hook up with each other 3-4 times a week. Best friends don’t call each other “querida” or “bebita.” Best friends don’t share the most hidden parts of each other, and hide the rest of themselves from the world.

You should’ve set some ground rules before jumping into being friends with benefits. Maybe you’ll bring this up to Javi tonight when he comes over - mention everything unorthodox about your dynamic. At the end of the day, that’s all you two are to each other: best friends.

You begin the journey home, stopping to grab some more cocadas for him. You check your list as you drag your cart beside you. Skimming over your list, you realize not all items are crossed out, having accidentally skipped over some while thinking of Javi. You dig in your purse for a pen and your keys.

Opening the lobby door with your key, you enter the building with your rolling wire cart and bags in tow. You make your way to the stairs and head up to your apartment. You skim over your list with a pen now in hand, circling items you forgot as you mindlessly walk into the lobby. You round the corner of the second floor and spot Javi across the way at the opposite end of the railing, your face lighting up. You hadn’t expected to see him home early. You hold the bag of cocadas in your hand for him.

Freezing, your smile fades as you spot him talking to some woman in the lobby of your shared building. He’s smiling, his hand brushing against her forearm with a cigarette hanging from his lips as he leans against the rail. You can't help but eavesdrop on their conversation.

“Que vas hacer el viernes?” The mystery woman asks. “Salir contigo,” Javi flirtatiously responds. The world stops. How can he possibly go out with someone else after telling you he isn’t seeing anyone else last night?

Your grip slips from your cart and it crashes to the floor, a loud bang resounding in the lobby. Javi and the mystery woman snap their heads in your direction.

Javi’s breath hitches in his throat, not expecting to see you as you told him you’d be out grocery shopping all day. You quickly bend down to pick up your cart. “Lo siento,” you apologize, flustered as you rush down the hall. Javi sighs and runs a hand over his face, rubbing at the corners of his mouth. “Te recogeré el viernes a las ocho,” Javi tells Cassandra, the woman in the hall. “Bien. Hasta luego, Javi,” she says, reaching up to press a kiss to his cheek and leaves.

He just lets out another sigh. He grabs his keys from his pocket and rushes down the hall to your apartment. “Fuck,” he mutters under his breath as he runs out the door.

You can’t shake the feeling of seeing Javi with another woman. Sure, the two of you weren’t anything exclusive, but you two had just said you weren’t seeing anyone else. Hell, he almost said “love” twice in the past 24 hours. How could he be flirting with another woman, asking her out, in your apartment building? And how could he be so nonchalant about it?

You hadn’t had great luck with relationships in the past, so a friends with benefits arrangement sounded perfect when Javi proposed the idea to you. You wanted to spare your heart from more pain so you agreed instantly, thinking things between you two wouldn’t progress any further than that - or so you thought.

You’ve always been good at hiding your feelings, constantly guarding your heart. Over the years, you learned to shove your feelings deep, deep down to where they can’t be unburied. You’ve buried them so far, you’ve convinced yourself that you don’t have any for Javi. So if you don’t have any feelings for him, why the hell are you crying over him?

Javi tries to catch up with you, but you’re gone before he can do so. He reaches your door, hearing a quiet sniffle on the other side. “Querida!” He shouts as he bangs on the door. His voice causes you to snap your head up. You quickly wipe your face before you open the door, barely cracking it open so he won’t catch a good glimpse of you, but it’s too late. He’s already noticed your glossy, red eyes and a stray tear escaping your eye.

He tries to gently pry the door open, but you refuse to let go of it. “Querida, are you okay?” Concern lacing his voice as he asks through the small crack. “Yes, Javier, I’m fine. And don’t call me that,” you bite. Confusion evident on his face as his brows furrow and a frown makes its way onto his face. 

“Hey. We good?” He asks, confused and a bit more firmly this time. You scoff. “Yes, Javier. I’ll see you around.” You whip around and slam the door in his face. Javi stands there, dumbfounded. You never used his full name, he was always Javi to you. And he always called you some sort of affectionate nickname, you loved when he did that.

He wracks his brain, trying to process and figure out why you're so angry. He wasn’t lying last night when he said he wasn’t seeing anyone else, but the conversation hadn't gone further than that. He figured he could still see other people after that, you had said so. You also had asked for health reasons. Other people hook up with their best friends with no strings attached, right? Just friends helping each other blow off steam. He has no feelings for you. His date with Cassandra will prove it. So, why does he feel so guilty? Why are you so upset over this?

You storm into the kitchen, putting away your groceries and maintaining your composure til you spot the bag of cocadas you had picked up for him - the ones he had the nerve to ask for. Taking solace in your living room, you throw yourself on your couch and bite back the tears that threaten to spill over, squeezing your eyes shut. You’re embarrassed for even feeling hurt and upset over him seeing someone else, but you feel even more embarrassed at the fact that he saw you - now he knows you’re upset. 

Your attempt to withhold tears fails as your body racks with silent sobs. Taking a deep, shaky breath and exhaling, you muster up the strength to gather your cart and bags once more to finish grocery shopping. Desperate to take your mind off everything. 

You peer out of the peephole to ensure Javi isn’t out there. Grabbing your keys, you cautiously open the door and check if the coast is clear. You turn around, locking your door and hurriedly rush down the hall to the stairs. You’re practically running out of the building once you reach the first floor.

Trekking to one of the fruit stands near one of the markets, you mindlessly sort through the produce. You desperately try to shake the anxiety reeling through you, afraid of running into the woman or worse, Javi. You reach for an orange as a hand brushes yours, reaching for the same one. You jump, startling at the touch, pulling you out of your trance.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” a man says, pulling his hand back. You meekly smile, taking in the handsome man in front of you. “It’s okay, I can grab another,” you tell him. “No, no, that’s okay. Go ahead, take it,” he says, handing you the orange.

“Thank you,” you tell him. “No problem. A girl like you deserves an orange that’s just as sweet as her,” he smiles. Your brows quirk up before bursting into a fit of giggles. “Too cheesy?” He asks, flushed red in the face. “A little… but it was cute,” you giggle. “Chris. Christ Feistl,” he smiles, extending his hand. You give him your name, shaking his hand. 

“Do you always include fruit in your pickup lines?” You playfully ask. “Not always, but I could show you my other lines if you let me take you out sometime,” he boldly says. A smirk creeps onto your face. “Bold. I like it,” you say, digging a pen and a scrap of paper out of your purse. You scribble your name and number on it. “Call me and we can arrange something,” you say with a wink - Javi completely forgotten for now. 

He smiles as he takes the piece of paper. “Looking forward to it,” he says. “And I’m looking forward to all your cheesy pickup lines. I’ll see you around,” you say with a smile. “See you around,” he says.

You’re practically buzzing with excitement the rest of your grocery trip, Javi temporarily forgotten. Replaying the previous interaction you had with Chris, you’re eager to call him and arrange a date. A little too eager for some reason.

He’s handsome, white, blonde-ish with a beard, and hazel eyes - the total opposite of Javi. If Javi can go on a date and hookup with other people, then why can’t you? This will be good for you.

Translations:

Damelo - give it to me

Que vas hacer el viernes? - What are you doing on Friday?

Salir contigo - Going out with you

Lo siento - I'm sorry

Te recogeré el viernes a las ocho - I'll pick you up on Friday at 8

Hasta luego - See you later/then

Querida/Cariño - darling/dear

Bebita - Baby girl

i hope y'all enjoy! the build up is very important to me, so i am working hard on it! this is a love letter to all the novelas i watched as a kid. i <3 drama

Tag list: @undrthelights @gracieheartsspedro @jenispunk @nostalxgic @mandoisapunk @party-hearses @bastardmandennis @tinygarbage @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @daydreamingmiller @javierpena-inatacvest @chaotic-mystery @amanitacowboy @factualfic @littlegrungegirlaf @fifia-writes @pedroluver @pascalpvnk @thevoiceinyourheadx @innerpersonunknown @evangelinemedici @vickie5446

if your name is crossed out, it means i couldn’t tag you ):

[multi-fandomlovers-world]

141+Alejandro, Rodolfo and Konig Waking up With Their S/O

TW: Fluff,Sfw, Implied NFSW

Not my gifs-------all supported by Tumblr

Warning: Implied Sex, Implied,Oral Sex, Pet Names

Simon "Ghost" Riley:

He's a little excited to wake up because he knows that he has to wake up early

He sets an alarm---on vibrate because he doesn't want to wake you up. Only him. 30 minutes early because he needs to get and take his time to look at you

My god, does he look at you

He admires you because you look so peaceful. He never had the pleasure of seeing this before. To him, your form is everything and he hopes to achieve one day

But with you at his side, he has started seeing the beauty in everything because you are showing him. He grateful for this

He'd have to physically pull himself out of bed, when he could not prolong his departure any longer

If you were still asleep by the time he left, he would just kiss you softly on your forehead and leave you undisturbed.

If you are awake before he heads out, he kisses you passionately on the lips, holding both sides of your face then he'd kiss down your jawline and to your neck. You'd have to tell him to stop (even though you love it) before making him stay

"What makes you think I wouldn't take up that offer, hm? Cause I'd love to be here with you"

John "Soap" Mactavish:

HE GIVES THE BEST CUDDLES EVER

His cuddles are probably one of the main reasons why you don't want to get out of bed sometimes. He literally radiates warmth so it makes it better

He'll wake up and see you sleeping. He'll just pull you on top of him and hold you.

He doesn't even let you go for the next couple hours. He feels better knowing your closing to him

He just adores the way you feel against him. He'll caress your back lightly and press soft kisses, which makes you up.

HIS MORNING VOICE IS SO DEEP AND WILL USE IT AGAINST YOU (Only because he loves seeing your reaction)

"Morning, my love" he'd say, while kissing your cheek and smiling softly at you as he admires you. "How'd you sleep? Or do you want to sleep some more?"

His kisses can be sloppy in the morning but once he's more awake it becomes more passionate

He loves the sleepy whines you make when he rubs his stubble against your neck, stomach, your thighs, etc.

He will ALWAYS cage you in beneath him as he rolls on top of you

Sometimes, he just likes to lay on you and make sure you NO WAY to escape. He also loves looking up at you and admiring you

"We got things to do, baby!" You'd tell him but he's thinking of any way he could keep you in bed with you and cuddle all day

John "Captain" Price:

You'd always feel his beard, slightly rubbing up against your neck, your thighs,or on your face before you saw him

He likes to be the big spoon and likes to be near you. He feels comfort from this and you feel safe in his arms

He'll pull you flush against his chest if you aren't already in that position. He'll take advantage of it

He always says "Good morning, beautiful" and will give you a passionate gentle kiss on your forehead before kissing you on your lips

Let's say if you two had a particularly intense night, he would bring you breakfast ( or lunch, dinner depending on what time of the day it is) as well as tea

He will always ask you to stay in bed with him so he can admire you and look into your eyes ( He thinks you are beautiful)

You always have to remind him that the day wasn't getting any longer and eventually you two would have to get up

He wouldn't complain (because he's understanding). But he would want nothing more than to hold you in his arms and keep you close to him

Once winter comes around, he'll stay in bed and so will you. He radiates warmth

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick:

LITERAL ANGEL 💟

He likes to wake up before you and he'll lay there and look at you like you are a goddess

He'll pull you close into his bare chest and just rest there,feeling your breath against his skin; a reminder that you are still here and breathing

If you are awake by this time, he'll simply smileand loves the little sleepy sounds you make when you are waking up

"Good morning, bunny" He would say. He'll kiss you softly on the lips and caress your cheek. "Did you sleep well?"

LITERALLY HIS VOICE IS SO SOFT IN THE MORNING

Despite him being so young, it's time like these that he truly knows where he wants to be for the rest of his life and he wants you for the rest of his life

That's up to you as well of course.

He never truly felt like he was living-Alive- until he met you and to him, you are his treasure, his love, his everything

During his morning reflections on your relationship, he'll think of your future together. Just you and him and conjoined families through your marriage

You keep him sane, help him realise there is so much more to life than just military duties, beer and watching TV. You show him the beauty of life outside of those things

After that, he now lays there, watching you peacefully asleep, your chest rise and fall. He truly feels like you are a blessing to him and it almost makes him shred a tear. He found happiness and that's the best thing he looks forward to coming home to you

Alejandro "Colonel" Vargas:

God, He makes me FERAL

Passionate man, just a reminder 😩

He's the type who will smother you in kisses the second you start waking up.

Any area of your skin that isn't covered by the blanket (mainly your shoulders or upper back), will fall a victim of his unrelenting love.

Sometimes he will just lay there and enjoy the moment with you. He loves knowing that you are alive, breathing and that you are safe in his arms

He will leave love bites all over you because he loves you so much and will look at you like 😊

But don't worry, you get him back for it too so you'll see love bites throughout his chest

HIS MORNING VOICE IS EVERYTHING

It usually takes you both an hour to get up, only because he loves you so much that he wants to feel you close to him

Won't leave the bed until you are satisfied, making sure that you came on his cock as many times as you can and him filling you up

If you are up, you'll climb on top of him and sit on his lap, he'll wrap his arms around your waist and touch your thighs

To him, you are everything. You bring him light and hope. You give him a feeling outside of military duties. To you, he is your love and life like he does as well

Rodolfo "Second In Command" Parra:

BABY 🥹🫠

Like Ghost, he will wake up 20 to 30 minutes early ( He keeps his phone on vibrate so you don't wake up)

He will literally look at you like 👁️👄👁️

He truly believes you are a goddess of angel.

He can't believe how beautiful you are even if you are sleeping, especially when the light slightly glances over you. You glow like no one else

He will look at you like you are the only person in the world

He'll bring you presents and hide them under your pillow so you have something to look forward to

These gifts are deeply personal and thoughtful, like the locket necklace that he gave you (you always wear it)

When you wake up, you have to kiss him on the lips or his nose to knock him out of his trance

"Buenos días hermoso. ¿Cómo estás esta mañana?" (Good morning, beautiful. How are you doing this morning)

After that point, he'd pull you on top of him and just hold you close. He will kiss your lips, forehead and neck

If it leads to you two making out, it'll most likely lead to morning sex (you both love it)

He considers that you are a gift to him. He feels like you are everything that he wants to be with. You are constantly having the ability to list his mood instantly and he feels better knowing you are there

His day can't be ruined at all after this. Literally nothing can bring him down and he carries his smile like gold

König:

Sometimes, it could be terrifying when you catch Konig staring at you (he doesn't ever want to scare you)

Like Rodolfo, while you are laying in bed, will stare at you like 👁️👄👁️

The only way to get him to stop is by asking him, or preferable option, distracting him.

To him, you are an angel. You have a way of making him feel like he's safe and his mind is calm when you are around. You are his love and life all put in to once

If you move slightly, touching his bare chest while sleeping, this makes him feel good, knowing you are still here and breathing (it puts his mind at ease)

Say if he wants to wake you up, he'll climb on top of you and kiss your lips, forehead, neck and collarbone til you wake up

Once you start waking up, you are met with his loving smile and eyes cast down at you. He will always give you a loving kiss in the morning

"Guten Morgen, Schatz. Hast du gut geschlafen meine Liebe? (Good morning, dear. Did you sleep well, my love)"

You'll nod and cup his face kissing him slowly which ends up in oral sex.

He'll pin you down and make sure you can't leave at all. Also making sure you can't walk the rest of the day as an excuse to keep you in bed with him

If it didn't lead to anything, he'll just end up laying with you, wanting you in his arms all day and sleeping

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously :-)

Taglist: @dressycobra7 @lolis-pikt