#can't find photos from the event still

[coralsgrimes]

Benny Boy with frens on a school trip to the movies!

[teddy-tonks]

Tags.

[braintamer]

Subtle ways to serve the patriarchy in your daily life:

1. Be respectful

When talking to strange men, always refer to them as "sir" or as a "gentleman." This may seem outdated, but some people still talk like that. It shows your respect and harkens back to a time when men were in charge and women knew their place.

2. Be polite

Always say please and thank you, even if it doesn't seem necessary. For example, instead of saying, "Hey, do you know where the restroom is?" say, "Excuse me, sir, could you please show me where the restroom is?"

3. Be dependent

If you go out with a man, let him hold your phone. He'll decide what you need to see and who you need to communicate with. If he goes through your texts and photos, that's his right.

4. Be a doll

If you go out with a man, let him choose your outfit, how you do your makeup, and your hair. Don't leave until he is completely satisfied with your appearance.

5. Dress to impress

If you go out without a man, choose makeup and an outfit based entirely on what you think men find attractive. (Unfortunately, you will have to use your brain just a little bit for this one 😥) It doesn't matter if you like it, or if it's comfortable, men's taste is your taste.

6. Be helpless

If you think you might need help with something, ask a man. Even if you think you could probably do it on your own, remember that you can't. If you're lost, don't try to use Google maps. Ask a man for help. If there's something wrong with your car, don't even try to figure out what it is, take it to a mechanic, and say, "It makes a weird noise when I do this" and let him handle everything for you (ideally you wouldn't be driving at all)

7. Be approachable

If ANY man flirts with you or compliments you, be receptive. If a dirty homeless man says you have nice tit's, smile at him and say, "Thank you, sir." If a group of men are hollering at you, stick around, give them a spin so they can see and judge every part of your body, invite them to come over and grope you.

8. Be submisive

Never talk back to a man. If a man is rude to you, be grateful for the attention and ask him what you can do to make it right.

9. Be dumb

Don't use big words, in text or in speech. If you have an idea that you don't know how to express, it's probably too complicated for you. Only read when you have to. Never try to understand current events, occupy your mind with porn. If you really need more intellectual stimulation, you can watch something like celebrity gossip news.

10. Spead the word

Subtly try to teach other women their place, compliment them on their appearance, and nothing else. Discourage them from valuing things like their education and career. Encorage them to dress more slutty, if possible get them drunk and makeout with them for men to watch.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Alfred's Boy Part 5

@donesodone said: I just wanted to know. Is there a continuation of Alfred's Boy in the Works? If not, that's fine. I just love it and want to see it continue.

Bruce didn't realize how quiet Danny indeed was until Wes appeared. He suspected, of course, that no child was removed from their home by a super secret ex-spy if it wasn't a terrible, horrible reason, but still, he was shocked to see the difference.

Alfred's foster son had a weight around him, wearing his sadness like a depressing cloak. It was apparent that Danny was just tired. As if though he hadn't gotten a good night's rest in a long time, even when he was moving about and doing his chores like nothing was amiss.

Bruce will admit that he hadn't realized that Danny was so sad. He had no previous reference to compare him to, so he assumed that the boy was naturally reserved.

If he's honest, he also thought it was impressive how Danny could take anything in stride without so much as a blink.

Finding out his boss was Batman? Another Tuesday.

Tim's photo album of him? Danny appreciates the art behind photography.

Damian burst into his room, covered in bleeding wounds, he just had to have Danny bind? He took lessons from Alfred and appreciated the change to practice.

What he failed to realize was through all those events, Danny had had a lukewarm reaction, as if he had forgotten how to enjoy things.

Now, however, watching him with Wes, he realizes that Danny is naturally bubbly. He smiled wide, talked a lot with his hands, and while the same sass he had seen before was still there, there was more ease in him wielding it.

"Fun Fact: Tango was initially invented to be done between two men, " He hears Wes say, as Bruce walks by the viewing room the two boys were in.

Unable to help himself, Bruce peeks into the room, fighting the urge to lecture Danny. The reason for the lecture is that Danny is currently sitting in Wes's lap, his back to Wes' chest, and both are staring at the book "Useless Information" in Wes' hands.

Not dating his ass.

"So what you're saying is: Tango is gay," Danny affirms, cuddling into the blankets tucked around him, and leaning further into Wes. "The dance of our people."

Wes hums, "If only we could dance."

"Boys." He calls because he really wants to step between them, but Bruce is already doing that against his kids, and he is done being the civilian in Jason's novels. "Would either of you like to go to an opera tonight? I have some box seat tickets a close friend gave me, but I had other plans and didn't want them to go to waste."

Bruce didn't, but a little white lie wouldn't hurt anyone. He could easily buy them before the kids got to the opera house.

Wes's eyes practically sparkled. Bruce knew they would; he heard Wes play some songs from three famous operas the other day while Danny was showering. "Opera with box seats!? I love to go!"

Danny grimaces, clearly not that big of a fan. "Now look what you did, Master Bruce."

"Please, can we go, Danny?" Wes whines, "I'll let you haunt me if we go."

Danny cracks a smile, and Bruce is stunned by its softness. Had he not noticed how empty Danny's smiles have been until now? "Okay, Okay, we can go. But if I fall asleep you can't complain."

"How could anyone fall asleep at the Opra?"

"Easy. It's boring." Steph snips, leaning on the door frame. Bruce hadn't realized she was there. He frowned in her direction, not missing how Wes rolled his eyes.

"Hello, green-eyed monster. How are you this evening?" He said, making Steph eyes narrow. Danny was swinging his head between them, looking confused, but before he could ask, Wes continued, "Want to go with us? Danny needs more people to cuddle, and my visit has an expiration date."

Steph looks taken back, but her whole face breaks into the largest smile Bruce has ever seen on her face in a while when Danny nods, seemingly embarrassed. "It would be nice to have more cuddles. I, ugh, realized I was going too long without them."

Hmm, that's the fifth time the two have mentioned cuddling since yesterday. Bruce knows he ignored Wes's entrance when he got here yesterday, but maybe he should look into it.

If Alfred allowed, of course.

"I'll go get ready!" Steph shouts, racing down the hall. There is a brief pause before a loud "Hey, watch it!" and quick, distant "Sorry, Jason!"

His second oldest stridden into the room, grumbling at the giant front stain on his shirt. A half-empty cup in his hand lets Bruce know Steph bumped into him, making him spill his precious soda.

"Can't get any peace around here," Jason mumbles.

"I can clean that for you, Master Jason." Danny is quick to say, standing up from his seat. Wes lifts his arm to let Danny wiggle out of his grasp, but Jason only shakes his head.

"Nah, it's fine, kid." With one hand, Jason yanks the shirt over his head. Wes drops his book, and Danny's face goes very red. Bruce has a moment of utter horror, but Jason doesn't seem to notice, throwing the ruined shirt over his shoulder. "I was going to shower after some reading anyway. What are you crazy kids up to?"

"O-Oprea," Danny shutters, staring up at Jason with strange emotion in his eyes. Wes looks like a deer caught in headlights beside him.

Jason's face brightens. "No way! I love the opera."

"You do?" We gasped.

"Yeah, though, I'm more of a play guy myself. I love the theater. Once a drama kid always a drama kid." Jason winks and, oh no, Wes looks to be swooning. What's worse, Danny seems to be swooning too.

"Want to come with?" Wes blurts, and Jason considers the invitation carefully before shrugging.

"You know what? Yeah, I love to. Let me go take my shower then get ready. It's at what time?"

"Seven," Bruce answers, stepping in when both boys seem unable to get their tongues to work. Jason nods, and then a wicked smirk grows on his face.

Bruce is instantly weary.

"Let's make this a family event. You guys don't mind, right?" Jason turns back to the boys, shaking their heads like bobble figures.

"The more, the merrier, Master Jason."

"Perfect" Quick as a whip, Jason pulls out his phone and sends a quick message. He leaves the room, but not before calling over his shoulder "I'll meet you in the main doorway at six-thirty."

Bruce's phone buzzes. He pulls it out, reading the message: Hey losers, Danny wants to see the Oprea. The really romantic one. Do any of you want to join us?

He feels a headache coming on. Especially with Wes and Danny looking at each other with shocked open mouths, looking like they were wordlessly expressing how attractive they thought Jason was.

Tim comes sprinting down the hall. Bruce is unsure what he is doing, seeing as his hair is wrapped in a towel, but he is wearing half of a chicken costume as he runs by. "I want to go, I want to go, I want to go! Don't leave without me!"

Wes squints at the open door hallway before laughing that strange, impish laugh of his. "This place is a riot."

Danny pauses before that same soft smile blooms on his face, and Bruce's heart melts. "Yeah, I like Wayne Manor too."

Maybe Danny isn't as happy as before, but maybe one day he will be. Bruce would be content with that.

[hoshifighting]

Stripper! Reader x Business Man! Lee Chan

— Synopsis: Workaholic Lee Chan's Friday night takes an unexpected turn when he joins friends at a strip club, only to find himself captivated by you, a dancer he can't seem to stay away from. Despite his reservations, Chan finds himself drawn to your company, booking time with you night after night. — WC: 8.8k — WARNINGS: Strangers to lovers, smut, mentions of alcohol, strip clubs, money throwing, booking, fluff, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, fingering, oral (f. receiving), riding, g'spot stimulation, clit stimulation, male sensitivity.

Lee Chan held the weight of being the CEO of the imperium that his dad left at a very young age. Frat parties, hanging out, late-night talks? Nah, not for him. He had to take care of the company and honor the inheritance that fell into his lap. His co-workers could remember very well the times that Chan walked around and around his office, shoulders tense as if he carried the world on them.

His days started early and ended late, filled with back-to-back meetings, strategy sessions, and endless paperwork. The once carefree and spirited young man had transformed into a focused and driven leader, his every move calculated to ensure the success and stability of the company.

Chan's office was a testament to his dedication—shelves lined with business books, awards, and framed photos of his father, a constant reminder of the legacy he was determined to uphold. The large windows offered a panoramic view of the city skyline, but Chan rarely had time to enjoy it. He was always too engrossed in his work, too preoccupied with the responsibilities that consumed his every waking moment.

Even though his life felt like being stuck in traffic on a rainy day, Chan couldn't deny that he loved the results of his hard work. He looked at the luxurious cars parked in his garage—sleek, powerful machines that represented the pinnacle of automotive engineering. 

His closet was a veritable treasure trove of sartorial excellence. Different types of watches, ties, suits, and shoes from every high-end brand imaginable filled the space, each piece carefully chosen to reflect his impeccable taste and status. The feel of finely crafted leather shoes, the weight of a bespoke suit on his shoulders, the precision of an intricate timepiece on his wrist—all these were constant reminders of what he had achieved.

Chan's wealth allowed him to indulge in the kind of extravagances most people could only dream of. He could spend an exaggerated amount of money in a matter of seconds on something completely futile, like a super shaver with a gold coating—exotic and utterly unnecessary.

The week was ending, and Chan listened to the fuss inside his friend group about hanging out this Friday. Jeonghan, seeing his colleagues leaving their desks, noticed Chan still at his desk, tapping his fingers on the glass table. With his bag slung over his shoulder, Jeonghan approached him.

"I know it's a stupid question, but will you come with us?" he asked. Chan was usually seen only at corporate events. Jeonghan couldn't remember the last time he enjoyed a beer with his friend.

Chan looked up, a hint of surprise flickering across his face. He opened his mouth to respond, the automatic refusal ready on his tongue, but something made him pause. He glanced around the office, now emptying out as people headed off to start their weekends. The thought of another solitary night of work made him feel a twinge of longing for something different.

"Come on, man," Jeonghan urged, sensing the hesitation. "Just one night. It’ll be fun. You need a break."

Chan sighed, running a hand through his hair. He knew Jeonghan was right. The constant grind was wearing him down, and maybe, just maybe, a night out with friends was exactly what he needed.

"Alright," Chan finally said, a small smile playing on his lips. "I'll come."

Jeonghan's eyes widened in surprise. "Seriously?"

Chan nodded, standing up and grabbing his jacket. "Yeah, let's do it."

Jeonghan grinned, clapping him on the back. "That's the spirit! You won't regret it."

Before they left the building, Chan paused and asked, "Jeonghan?"

"Yes?" Jeonghan answered, turning to face him.

"Where are we going?" Chan inquired, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

Jeonghan just smiled, a mischievous glint in his eye. "You'll see," he said, leaving Chan to wonder what the night had in store for him.

[...]

"A strip club? You must be kidding me!" Chan exclaimed as he took in the sight of the half-dark establishment. Neon lights flickered and danced around the room, casting colorful glows on the walls. Music blasted from speakers, filling the air with a pulsating beat.

He could see several women with different curves, colors, and hairstyles, dressed in scanty outfits—or sometimes nothing at all. The atmosphere was electric, a stark contrast to the corporate environment he was used to.

Jeonghan laughed, clapping Chan on the back. "Come on, man, loosen up! It's just for fun."

Chan hesitated, his eyes darting around the room. He felt a mix of discomfort and curiosity. "I don't know, Jeonghan..."

"Relax," Jeonghan said, guiding him further inside. "We all need a break sometimes. Just enjoy the night. You deserve it."

Chan took a deep breath, deciding to go along with it. Maybe Jeonghan was right—maybe he did need this. As they found a spot to sit, Chan tried to shake off his reservations.

His friends immediately ordered bottles and bottles of soju, beer, whiskey—whatever the bar had. Chan downed his whiskey in a single gulp, exclaiming, "If my dad knew I was here..."

Chan's eyes widened in surprise. "You're kidding."

"Nope," Jeonghan replied, pouring more whiskey into Chan's glass. "He said every hardworking man deserves a break. Guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, huh?"

Chan couldn't help but laugh at that. The thought of his father, the man he idolized for his strict work ethic, letting loose in a place like this was almost too surreal. 

As some of his friends disappeared one by one, Chan found himself alone on the couch they had booked. "Great," he muttered under his breath, feeling a twinge of discomfort at being left alone in such a place.

Just as he was about to sink further into the cushions, the little stage that he hadn't even noticed until now suddenly lit up. A tall pole stood in the middle, and Chan tilted his head in curiosity.

Then, a pair of really, really high heels appeared, and Chan's throat went dry. You emerged onto the stage, your skin shining under the purple light. The outfit you wore was scandalous, barely covering anything, and Chan couldn't help but notice the little glitters spread on your skin, catching the light as you moved.

You took hold of the pole and began to dance around it, moving with a grace and confidence that left Chan mesmerized. Your movements were fluid and controlled, every sway of your hips and arch of your back drawing him in deeper. It was as if you were performing just for him, and Chan felt like he could get lost in the rhythm of your dance forever.

As you held yourself up on the pole like a pro, Chan couldn't tear his eyes away. He felt like he was being swallowed by the couch, completely captivated by the sight before him. In that moment, nothing else mattered but you and the hypnotic spell you cast over him with your dance.

As you made eye contact with Chan, a devilish smile played on your lips. He looked like a new piece of meat, a pretty young man who had never been seen before in the club. You got down from the stage, the sway of your hips drawing all eyes to you as you walked towards him.

"First time here, sweetie?" you asked, laying your hands on his shoulders. Chan felt like he couldn't breathe with the view of your tits practically in his face.

"My eyes are up here," you said, chuckling as you caught him ogling your chest.

Chan blinked, feeling a flush of embarrassment creep up his neck. "Uh, yeah," he stammered, tearing his gaze away from your cleavage. "First time."

You chuckled, running a hand through your hair as you leaned in closer. "Well, lucky for you, you've got me to show you the ropes," you said, your voice low and sultry.

"You're tense," you observe, noticing the stiffness in Chan's shoulders. Without waiting for a response, you step behind him and begin to massage his shoulders, your fingers working their magic as you knead the tension away.

Chan lets out a sigh of relief, his muscles melting under your skilled touch. "Yeah," he admits, his voice soft. "Work's been... stressful lately."

You nod in understanding, continuing to work out the knots in his shoulders. "I get it," you say, your voice soothing. "But you're here now, and tonight is all about letting go of that stress and just enjoying yourself."

Chan leans back into your touch, closing his eyes as he relaxes into the sensation. "I guess you're right," he murmurs, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

You smile too, glad to see him starting to unwind. "That's better," you say, your fingers tracing soothing circles on his skin. "Just focus on the here and now. Forget about everything else for a while."

Chan nods.

You walk around Chan again, swaying your hips seductively in front of him. His mind races, unsure of what to do next, but before he can even think, you're sitting on his lap, circling your hips against his.

Chan smiles shyly, feeling the heat from your body as you move against him. He can't help but notice the money tucked into the sides of your little shorts, a reminder of where he is and what's expected of him.

It's exhilarating and nerve-wracking all at once, but there's something undeniably thrilling about having you so close, your body pressed against his.

As you continue to dance, Chan's hands hover uncertainly over your hips, unsure of where to touch or how to respond. He feels a flush of embarrassment at his own inexperience, but he's determined not to let it show. Instead, he focuses on the way your body moves against his.

And you smile knowingly, sensing his hesitation, and guide his hands to your waist, encouraging him.

Chan's hands move from your waist to your hips and then down to your thigh, his fingers grazing the soft skin as he explores the contours of your body. His pulse quickens as he feels the warmth of your thigh pressed against his pocket, and he can't resist the urge to reach into his wallet and retrieve a pouch of money.

With a mischievous grin, Chan brings his hand to the top of your head, letting the notes rain down on you like confetti. You laugh, delighted by the unexpected gesture, and give him a big smile.

"What's your name?" you ask, your voice playful.

"Chan," he replies, feeling a surge of confidence.

You lick your lips, your gaze lingering on his. "Nice to meet you, Channie," you purr, the nickname, and Chan blushes. 

[...]

The next Monday, Chan sat at his desk, his eyes fixed on nothing in particular. His mind raced with a million thoughts, his thoughts still consumed by the events of that night. He was lost in his own thoughts, replaying every moment, every touch, every glance.

A knock on his door startled him out of his trance, and he quickly tried to compose himself, pretending to be engrossed in some papers spread out on his desk.

"Come in," Chan called, his voice slightly shaky.

The door opened, and Jeonghan stepped inside, giving Chan a knowing smile. "Hey there, sleepyhead," he teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Chan felt a flush of embarrassment heat his cheeks. "Oh, hey Jeonghan," he replied, trying to sound casual.

Jeonghan chuckled, walking over to Chan's desk and leaning against it casually. "So, how was your night?" he asked, his tone laced with amusement.

Chan shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his mind racing as he tried to come up with a suitable response. "Um, it was... interesting," he finally managed, his voice trailing off uncertainly.

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Interesting, huh?" he said, his tone teasing. "Well, if you ever need any pointers on how to navigate the world of strip clubs, you know who to ask."

Chan's cheeks burned even hotter, and he couldn't help but laugh at Jeonghan's playful teasing. "Thanks, but I think I'll pass," he said, relieved to have the topic of conversation shifted away from his night of unexpected adventure.

Chan spent the entire weekend consumed by thoughts of you, unable to shake the memories of your encounter at the club. As Monday rolled around, he found himself itching to see you again, the usual routine of work feeling dull and uninspired.

Deciding that today was not the day for extra hours at the office, Chan made his way to the club, a sense of anticipation building in his chest. He arrived at the club, his eyes scanning the room eagerly in search of you.

As he looked around, a receptionist approached him, sensing his lost expression. "Can I help you?" she asked, her voice polite and friendly.

Chan nodded, grateful for the assistance. "Yes, I'm looking for a girl with hair like this," he said, mimicking the length and curl of your hair with his hands.

The receptionist's eyes lit up with recognition. "Ah, you must be looking for Y/N," she said, a smile playing on her lips. "Follow me, I'll take you to her."

There you were, dancing around the pole with a big smile on your face, as if you were truly enjoying every second of it. Chan watched from the corner of the room, his arms crossed and a big smile on his face as he observed you.

The club was crowded, with many people gathered around you, admiring your performance. Chan felt a pang of jealousy as he watched others vying for your attention, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from you.

As the night wore on and people began to leave, Chan noticed you finally catching sight of him. Your eyes met his, and you gave him a playful wink, rolling your hips as you glanced at him over your shoulder.

Chan's heart skipped a beat at your playful gesture, and he couldn't help but grin back at you. Despite the crowd around you, it felt like you were dancing just for him, and in that moment, Chan felt a surge of warmth and connection unlike anything he had ever experienced before.

As you took a break from dancing, you bent down to pick up some notes from the stage floor. Before you could gather them all, Chan approached, leaning on the stage with a playful grin.

"Leave it on the ground," he said, extending a big wad of money towards you. "Take it."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "I didn't even have time for you today," you teased, raising an eyebrow.

"Did I ask?" Chan replied, his smile widening. "Take it."

You couldn't help but laugh at his playful response, taking the money from his hand. "You liked me that much, huh?" you asked, knowing full well the answer. You were well aware of the power you held.

"Hmm, I think I need to see more," Chan teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

You giggled, enjoying the banter between you. "Well, if you want me all to yourself, you'll have to book," you replied with a playful wink.

Chan's eyes lit up at the suggestion. "Can I book all of your agenda?" he asked eagerly.

You stood up, giving him a coy smile. "Don't be greedy, Channie," you teased, enjoying the way he looked at you with eager anticipation.

You glanced down at the wad of money in your hand, barely able to fit into your shorts, and then looked back up at Chan with a playful smile.

"Well, I think I can spare some time for you," you said, glancing over at the clock on the wall. "But just a little while."

Chan's face lit up with excitement as he nodded eagerly. "That's all I need," he replied, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

[...]

As Chan began appearing almost every day, he became a familiar face at the club, a quiet yet eager client of yours. The receptionist would often give you a knowing look, silently conveying that Chan had arrived and had booked time with you once again.

Of course, there were other loyal clients who frequented the club, but none seemed to hold the same level of fascination for you as Chan did. There was a certain shine in his eyes whenever he entered the club, a distinct aura of anticipation and eagerness that set him apart from the other customers.

You couldn't help but wonder why you had let him know about the option to book time with you. Perhaps it was the way he looked at you with such genuine interest and excitement, or maybe it was the thrill of having someone so captivated by your presence. Whatever the reason, you found yourself looking forward to his visits, eager to see where each encounter would lead.

You couldn't help but feel a pang of surprise when Chan didn't show up for his usual visit. It was as if a small piece of the excitement and anticipation that had become a part of your routine was suddenly missing. Without even realizing it, you found yourself scanning the crowd, searching for his familiar face.

Then, just as you were starting to wonder where he was, you spotted him entering the club. Your heart skipped a beat as you watched him make his way to his special seat, right in front of you. His genuine smile lit up his face, and you couldn't help but smile back, the warmth of his presence washing over you like a wave.

With renewed energy and enthusiasm, you danced with even more passion and heart than before. You knew that Chan was watching, appreciating every move, every moment. 

Over the following weeks, Chan's visits became a cherished routine. Each time he arrived, you could sense the anticipation in his eyes, the unspoken hope that maybe tonight would be different.

One evening, as you were finishing your performance and making your way to his table, he finally mustered the courage to ask. "Hey, would you like to grab a drink with me sometime? Outside of here, I mean," he said, his voice full of genuine warmth and a hint of nervousness.

You smiled softly, appreciating his boldness but knowing you had to set boundaries. "I'm flattered, Chan, but I don't hang out with customers outside of work," you replied, your tone gentle yet firm.

A few nights later, he tried again, this time with a different approach. "There's this amazing new restaurant that just opened up downtown. I'd love to take you there," he offered, his eyes hopeful.

You shook your head slightly, maintaining your friendly demeanor. "I appreciate the invite, but I have a policy about not mixing my work life with my personal life," you explained, hoping he would understand.

Undeterred, Chan continued to ask, each time finding new ways to express his interest. "There's a gallery opening this weekend. I thought it might be fun to check it out together," he suggested one night, his enthusiasm palpable.

Once again, you gently declined. "That sounds lovely, but I really can't. I have to keep things professional with my clients," you said, feeling a pang of regret at having to turn him down yet again.

Each time he asked, you could see the slight disappointment in his eyes, but he always respected your boundaries. And despite your refusals, he never stopped coming back, never stopped watching you with that same genuine admiration and respect.

Tonight, you made sure every detail was perfect. Your hair cascaded in flawless waves, and you wore your best outfit, accentuating every curve just right. You were eager to dance for Chan, feeling a flutter of excitement as you anticipated his arrival. Sure enough, Chan appeared, booking the rest of the night with you as he had been doing lately.

When he approached, you greeted him with a kiss on the cheek, a small gesture that had become part of your interactions. "Hey, Channie," you said with a playful smile. "So, what’s it gonna be tonight? Shorts or no shorts?"

Chan smiled warmly, a bit of that usual nervous energy in his eyes. "Actually," he began, his tone softer than usual, "I just want to talk tonight. I want to spend time with you."

You blinked, taken aback. No customer had ever asked for just your company before. "You... you just want to talk?" you repeated, making sure you heard him right.

He nodded, a sincere expression on his face. "Yeah. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love watching you dance. But tonight, I just want to get to know you better. You know, beyond all this," he gestured vaguely around the club.

Still processing his request, you motioned to the couch. "Alright, let's sit then." You both settled onto the plush seats, the atmosphere suddenly feeling more intimate and less transactional.

"So, what do you want to know?" you asked, trying to mask your nervousness with a casual tone.

Chan leaned forward slightly, his eyes earnest. "Everything. What's your favorite color? What's your dream vacation? What do you do when you're not here?" He paused, then added with a chuckle, "I know it sounds silly, but I really want to know the real you."

You smiled, touched by his genuine curiosity. "Well, my favorite color is …" you began, feeling a bit shy. "As for a dream vacation, I've always wanted to visit Santorini. The pictures look so beautiful, like a place out of a fairytale."

Chan listened intently, his focus unwavering. "Santorini sounds amazing. I can picture you there."

You chuckled, the image of you in Santorini bringing a warm feeling to your chest. "And when I'm not here, I love to paint. It's my way of unwinding, letting my creativity flow."

His eyes lit up. "Painting? That's incredible. What kind of things do you paint?"

You shrugged lightly, feeling more comfortable as the conversation flowed. "Mostly landscapes and abstract pieces. It's like putting a piece of my soul onto the canvas."

For a moment, there was a comfortable silence, both of you absorbing the depth of the conversation. Chan finally broke it, his voice soft. "You know, I've always admired how dedicated you are to what you do, I know it's now easy at all. But hearing about your passions and dreams, it makes me admire you even more."

Your cheeks warmed at his words, and you found yourself opening up more than you had with anyone in a long time. "Thank you, Chan. It means a lot to hear that."

He reached out, gently squeezing your hand. "Thank you for sharing with me. I know this isn’t what you usually do, but it means a lot to me."

Chan observed the small figurine on the table, curiosity lighting up his eyes. “Where do you get these?” he asked, leaning closer to get a better look.

You smiled, a bit shyly. “I make them myself,” you said, enjoying the surprise that flickered across his face.

“Really? That’s amazing,” he praised, his admiration evident. You shrugged modestly.

“It’s not that hard,” you replied, still smiling. “They’re always small.”

Chan chuckled, a warm sound that made you feel even more at ease. He started to remove his blazer, and before you knew it, he placed it gently around your shoulders, covering a good part of you. The gesture was so kind and considerate that it made you feel even more comfortable, despite usually feeling at ease in your usual skimpy outfits.

As you nestled into the blazer, you couldn’t help but notice how much more at ease you felt. Chan’s presence was different; it wasn’t just about the physical attraction or the lavish spending. There was a gentleness, a genuine care that made you feel safe and valued.

“I don’t usually do this,” you admitted, looking at him with a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

Chan smiled back, his eyes soft. “It’s my pleasure. You deserve to feel comfortable.”

The conversation flowed easily as Chan began to share bits and pieces of his life. He spoke about his responsibilities as CEO, the pressure of living up to his father’s legacy, and the sacrifices he had to make. His words were carefully chosen, mindful of not coming across as boastful despite his affluent lifestyle. You could tell he was trying to be as honest as possible while downplaying the extravagance.

“And that’s pretty much my life,” Chan concluded with a slight sigh. “It’s demanding, but it’s what I have to do.”

You admired his humility, realizing how grounded he remained despite his wealth. “It sounds like a lot to handle,” you said softly, your eyes reflecting your newfound respect for him. “But you do it so well. It’s impressive.”

Chan’s expression softened, a mixture of gratitude and weariness in his eyes. “Thank you. It’s not always easy, but I try.”

“You’re more than just a pretty boy,” you teased lightly, wanting to lift the mood. “You’re a hardworking, humble man.”

He laughed, the sound filling the space between you with warmth. “And you’re not just a beautiful dancer. You’re talented and creative.”

[...]

The next morning, you were chatting with the girls—your coworkers—as they finished their hair for the night.

“And he just wanted to talk,” you said, a bit incredulously. “He even asked about my favorite color.”

The girls collectively let out a heartfelt “Awww,” their eyes wide with interest and affection.

“Seriously?” one of them, Mina, asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “That’s so sweet.”

“He seems different,” another added, giggling.

“Yeah,” you nodded, still a bit surprised yourself. “We just talked. It was...nice.”

Before the conversation could continue, the receptionist entered the room, a knowing smile on her face. “Ya! Y/N-nie! Your Channie is here,” she announced, her tone teasing.

It was unusual for any customer to visit on a Saturday morning, a time usually reserved for the staff to unwind and prepare for the week ahead. 

“It’s Saturday morning,” Mina whispered, nudging you playfully. “No customers come in unless they lost something.”

“Let him in,” you said, trying to keep your tone casual but feeling the flutter of anticipation.

As Chan walked in, he was met with a scene unlike the usual vibrant atmosphere of the club. The girls were dressed in comfortable clothes, some with bobs in their hair, others doing their nails or simply lounging around.

You were drying a glass behind the bar. He looked around, slightly surprised but smiling.

“Good morning, girls,” he greeted, his voice cheerful. "Good morning Y/N…" He says in a special and tender tone, just for you.

“Good morning,” the girls chimed back in unison, their eyes following his every move.

You put down the glass and walked over to him, a wide smile on your face. “Channie, what are you doing here?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“I wanted to see you,” he replied, his gaze soft and sincere. He seemed a bit out of place in the relaxed environment, but his presence was a welcome one. You could feel the girls watching the exchange with rapt attention, like they were watching an opera unfold.

Chan noticed that you didn’t have bobs in your hair like some of the other girls. Gesturing toward your hair, he asked, “No bobs for you today?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “It’s my day off. I’m not dancing today.”

The girls exchanged knowing looks, some stifling giggles. One of them, Lisa, leaned over and whispered loudly enough for you to hear, “Looks like someone’s here to see you even when you’re not performing.”

You blushed, glancing at Chan, who seemed equally flustered but amused by the comment. He recovered quickly, his smile returning.

Chan stood there, his eyes filled with hope and a hint of nervousness. "Would you like to spend the day with me?" he asked, his tone gentle and inviting.

You chuckled, a playful glint in your eye. "Hmm, I've already told you about hanging out with my customers," you teased, enjoying the banter.

Before Chan could respond, Mina chimed in from the background, her voice filled with encouragement. "Oh, come on! You should accept it!"

Chan seized the opportunity, smiling wider. "You’re not on your work schedule now, are you?"

That shut your mouth, leaving you momentarily speechless. The girls burst into giggles, clearly enjoying the exchange.

“Well, when you put it that way…” you trailed off, pretending to think it over.

Chan’s smile grew, sensing victory. “So, is that a yes?”

You sighed theatrically, then grinned. “Fine, you win. I’ll spend the day with you.”

“Great!” Chan said, visibly relieved and excited. “I promise it’ll be fun.”

You nodded, your smile widening. “Let me just finish up here, and we can go.”

As you gathered your things, the girls couldn’t resist a few more teasing comments, but it was all in good fun, as Chan waited patiently.

As the day unfolded, Chan took you to places you hadn't had the time to visit in years. You sipped coffee at a cozy café, strolled through the park, and even caught a movie at the cinema. With each passing moment, you found yourself enjoying his company more and more, feeling a sense of freedom and joy you hadn't experienced in a long time.

"This has been the best day off ever," you exclaimed, unable to contain your excitement as you walked side by side with Chan.

His heart swelled with happiness at your words, his smile growing wider. He could have taken you to a luxurious restaurant or shopping for designer labels, but he sensed that wasn't what you wanted. Instead, he decided to let you choose how to spend the rest of the day.

Careful to open doors for you and ensure your comfort, Chan drove you around in his luxurious car, enjoying each other's company and the simplicity of the moment. As he glanced at you from the driver's seat, he couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over him.

"Where to next?" he asked, his voice filled with anticipation.

You playfully pretended to ponder your options, teasing him about having more surprises up his sleeve. Chan laughed, shrugging his shoulders as he drove. You noticed that you were nearing your apartment, and the idea popped into your head.

"How about we go to my place?" you suggested, surprising even yourself with the invitation.

Chan's eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he quickly masked it with a smile. "Your place? Are you sure?"

You nodded, feeling a sense of excitement building in your chest. "Yeah, why not? I'd love for you to see where I live."

Chan couldn't hide his delight at your invitation, his curiosity piqued. He parked the car and walked with you to your apartment building, taking in the surroundings with interest.

Chan's eyes wandered around the apartment, taking in the details of your life that adorned the walls. He saw framed photographs capturing cherished memories – graduations, family gatherings, outings with friends. The images painted a picture of a life rich in experiences and relationships.

His gaze shifted to the plushies scattered across the couch, a playful and endearing touch that brought a smile to his face. It was clear to him that you had a warmth and sweetness that extended beyond the confines of the club where he first met you.

As you disappeared into the kitchen, Chan took a moment to soak in the atmosphere of your home. The tranquility of the space, combined with the personal touches that reflected your personality, made him feel strangely at ease.

In that moment, he realized that he was seeing a side of you that few others had the privilege of witnessing – the real you, beyond the glamorous facade of the club.

As you settled back onto the couch with snacks in hand, Chan joined you, his presence filling the space with warmth. With a mischievous glint in his eye, he began recounting his visit to the strip club earlier that day.

You listened intently, a soft chuckle escaping your lips as he shared the details of his adventure. When he mentioned Jeonghan's involvement, you couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude towards your friend for unknowingly setting this day in motion.

"Looks like I owe Jeonghan a big thank you," you said, your voice muffled as you took a bite of your snack. 

Chan raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "So, Jeonghan is the reason we met, huh?" he teased, leaning closer to you.

You chuckled, feeling a playful energy between you. "Looks like it," you replied, unable to suppress a smile.

Chan's teasing grin widened at your response, and he leaned in closer, his playful demeanor evident. "Oh, so you're thanking Jeonghan, but not me?" he teased, raising an eyebrow in mock indignation.

With a soft smile, you turned to Chan, gratitude evident in your eyes. "Thank you, Channie," you said, your voice sincere as you expressed your appreciation.

Chan returned your smile, his gaze warm as he listened to your words. "For what?" he asked, though he already had a feeling of what you meant.

You took a moment to gather your thoughts before replying. "For everything," you began, your tone heartfelt. "For the moments we've shared, the conversations we've had... Even on the nights you booked me, we talked more than danced," you admitted, a fondness evident in your voice.

Chan's smile widened at your words, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. "Well, I guess I'm just a talkative guy," he joked, though there was a hint of sincerity in his tone.

Chan's touch was tender as he brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his gaze lingering on your lips with a mixture of hesitation and longing. You could feel the tension building between you, an unspoken desire hanging in the air.

When he spoke your name, you couldn't help but respond with a soft sound of acknowledgment, your heart fluttering with anticipation. His next words sent a shiver down your spine, his voice barely above a whisper as he confessed his thoughts.

"I know it's not allowed to kiss the dancers in the club," he began, his words laden with a sense of urgency, "but... we're not in the club right?"

His question hung in the air, heavy with possibility. In that moment, the boundaries that had separated you in the club seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you, alone in the intimacy of your shared space.

You met Chan's gaze, your heart pounding in your chest as you considered his words. Despite the rules and restrictions that governed your interactions in the club, here, in this moment, you felt a freedom that was both exhilarating and terrifying.

With a hesitant smile, you leaned in closer to him, your breath mingling with his as you whispered, "No, we're not in the club." And in that simple acknowledgment, you gave voice to the unspoken truth that had been lingering between you all along.

Chan's hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as his lips crashed into yours. His tongue explored your mouth with a fervent passion, and you found yourself breathing hard, your fingers clutching the collar of his shirt to deepen the kiss.

The truth was, the more you refused Chan's invitations to dinner, the more you denied the gifts he insisted on giving you, the more you avoided his attempts to kiss you—his feelings for you only grew stronger. And now, seeing his insistence on simply having your company, and not just as the girl who would entertain him at night, made you feel all your girlhood feelings again.

Breaking the kiss for a moment, you looked into his eyes, your breath mingling with his. "Chan..." you whispered "Why do you keep coming back? Why do you keep trying so hard?"

He held your gaze, his eyes filled with a mix of determination and tenderness. "Because you matter to me, Y/N. More than just a dancer, more than just a pretty face. I see you, the real you, and I want to know you better."

Your heart swelled at his words, and you felt a rush of warmth and affection for this man who saw beyond the surface. "But I'm not used to this," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not used to someone caring this much."

Chan's grip on your neck tightened slightly, a comforting reassurance. "Then let me show you how it feels. Let me show you that you deserve to be cared for, to be cherished."

"Show me," you whisper, your eyes locked on Chan's lips. He captures your mouth in a passionate kiss, his lips trailing down to your neck. His hands find the hem of your shirt, and he pulls it over your head. You pull him closer, desperate to feel him, your hands sliding under his shirt to caress his warm skin.

His hands slide to your thighs, lifting you onto his lap, your breasts now level with his face. He glances at the pretty lace bra you’re wearing and lowers the cups, exposing your nipples. He kisses each one tenderly before sucking on one and pinching the other. You melt into him, your hips grinding against his automatically, drawing a groan from deep within his chest.

"Do you know how hard it was to control myself when you grinded on my cock like this?" he murmurs against your skin, his voice thick with desire.

A wicked smile crosses your lips as you continue to grind against him, feeling his erection growing beneath you. "I could feel it, Chan," you purr, your voice dripping with seduction. "I could feel how much you wanted me. I wanted you just as badly."

His hands tighten on your hips, guiding your movements as he presses you harder against him. "God, Y/N, you drive me crazy," he groans, his eyes darkening with lust.

You lean in, your breath hot against his ear. "I want to feel you inside me, Chan. I want you to lose control. Show me how much you want me."

His control snaps, and he flips you onto your back, his body pressing you into the couch. "You don’t know what you’re asking for," he growls, his hand sliding down to unbutton your pants.

"I know exactly what I want," you whisper back, your eyes burning with the same desire. "I want you, all of you."

Chan's lips crash into yours again, more fiercely this time, as his hands work to remove the rest of your clothing.

In a blur of movement, clothes are discarded, and his skin is pressed against yours. He pauses to look into your eyes. "Tell me you want this," he demands, his voice rough with need.

"I want you, Chan," you breathe out, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him closer. 

Chan giggles softly, his breath hot against your skin. "Wait for me to prepare you," he whispers, his voice laced with anticipation. He opens your legs wide, his eyes dark with desire as he lowers himself between your thighs. His lips find your wet folds, kissing them gently before his tongue delves deeper.

The sensation sends shivers through your body, and you let out a soft moan. Chan's mouth works expertly, sucking on your clit while his tongue teases and explores. As you gasp his name, "Channie," he responds with a moan of his own, the vibrations adding to your pleasure.

His hand slides up your thigh, and you feel the gentle pressure of his finger at your entrance. He slips it inside you slowly, his finger curling to find that perfect spot. Your back arches off the couch, your hands gripping the cushions as he continues to worship your body with his mouth and fingers.

"Oh, Chan," you breathe, your voice quivering with need. The way his tongue moves, the way his finger pumps in and out of you—it's all too much. Your hips begin to move on their own, seeking more of the intense pleasure he's giving you.

He adds another finger, stretching you gently, and your moans grow louder. His mouth never leaves your clit, sucking and flicking it with his tongue in a rhythm that drives you wild. You can feel your orgasm building, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter inside you.

Chan's free hand comes up to hold your hip, steadying you as you writhe beneath him. He looks up at you, his eyes full of lust and admiration, and the sight of him between your legs pushes you closer to the edge.

"Channie, I’m so close," you manage to say, your voice barely a whisper.

He doubles his efforts, his fingers moving faster, his mouth more insistent on your clit. The world fades away, and all you can focus on is the overwhelming pleasure building within you.

With a final, deep moan, you come undone. Your body trembles, your muscles clench around his fingers, and a powerful wave of ecstasy crashes over you. Chan doesn't stop, drawing out your orgasm until you're completely spent, every nerve ending tingling with satisfaction.

Finally, he pulls away, his fingers and mouth glistening with your arousal. He looks up at you with a triumphant smile, his own need evident in his eyes. "You taste so good," he murmurs, crawling up your body to capture your lips in a heated kiss. You can taste yourself on his lips, and it only fuels the fire between you.

"Now," he says, positioning himself at your entrance, "I think you're ready."

You nod, wrapping your legs around his waist, and with one smooth thrust, he fills you completely. 

Your pussy was wet enough, spasming, welcoming him perfectly. Chan's eyes were closed, his face contorting as he tried to compose himself. You reached up and gently held his face, and he opened his eyes, scoffing softly, trying to pretend he didn't almost cum right then and there from the sensation of your sopping cunt wrapping so perfectly around him and the pornographic moan that just left your mouth.

"Fuck, Y/N," he breathed, his voice thick with lust. "You feel so good."

You smiled, your own arousal mirrored in his gaze. "Don't hold back, Channie," you whispered, your fingers brushing through his hair. "I want all of you."

He groaned, his hips starting to move, slowly at first, savoring the way you clenched around him with each thrust. The intensity in his eyes made your heart race, the connection between you deepening with every movement.

"You're so tight," he murmured, his hands gripping your hips as he picked up the pace. "So perfect for me."

You bit your lip, your body responding to his every word, his every touch. "Chan," you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as he hit that sweet spot inside you, sending waves of pleasure through your body. "Don't stop."

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he rolled his hips, stopping momentarily before hitting your g'spot with a sharp thrust. He repeated this motion, each thrust more deliberate, and the most sinful moans left your mouth. "Yes, Channie," you gasped, your voice trembling with pleasure, "fuck this pussy with that big fucking cock. Yes, yes!"

Chan groaned, the sound deep and guttural, spurred on by your words. "You like that? Hm?" he panted, his pace quickening as he watched the ecstasy play out on your face. "You like how I fuck you?"

"Yes," you moaned, your nails digging into his shoulders. "God, yes, I love it. I love how you fuck me– ah! Channie."

"So wet... all for me."

Your body arched beneath him, your hips moving to meet his thrusts, chasing the pleasure that was building to an overwhelming peak. "Only for you," you whispered, your voice breaking with a whimper as he drove you closer to the edge. "No one else, just you, Channie."

He growled, the possessiveness in your words igniting something primal in him. His thrusts became harder, faster, each one sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. "Say it again," he demanded, his breath hot against your ear. "Tell me you're mine."

"I'm yours," you cried out, your legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper. "I'm yours, Channie, only yours."

His hips snapped forward with even more intensity, and you could feel the coil tightening in your core, ready to snap. "Cum for me," he urged, his voice a low growl. "Cum all over my cock, baby."

Your pussy throbbed as the aftershocks of your orgasm rippled through you, your eyes closing tightly, mouth falling open in a silent scream. You wrapped your legs around Chan's waist, locking him in place as you rode out every wave of pleasure. Chan hissed, his abdomen trembling, signaling that he was on the brink of release but unable to escape your grip.

You opened your eyes to find Chan watching you intently, taking in every reaction. "Sit," you commanded, your voice breathless yet authoritative.

"Hm?" Chan responded, his expression a mix of curiosity and lingering pleasure.

"Sit," you repeated, firmer this time. He complied, a small laugh escaping his lips.

"Are you going to dom me?" he teased, scoffing lightly.

Instead of answering, you simply lowered yourself onto his cock, making him flinch and let out a whiny moan in your ear, your legs trembling from the intensity of your recent orgasm.

"Fuck," he groaned, his hands gripping your hips. 

You leaned in close, your lips brushing against his ear. "You like that, Channie? You like when I take control?"

"Yes," he gasped, his breath hitching as you began to move, rolling your hips slowly at first. "God, yes."

You smirked, picking up the pace, each movement sending shivers of pleasure through both of you. "You look so good like this," you whispered, your voice low and sultry. "So desperate, so needy. You want to cum, don't you?"

"Yes," he admitted, his voice barely more than a whimper. "Please, let me cum."

You tightened your grip on his shoulders, riding him harder. "Not yet," you commanded, enjoying the power you held over him. "Not until I say so."

Chan's eyes fluttered closed, his body trembling as he tried to hold back. "Please," he begged, his voice raw with need. "I can't... I can't hold on much longer."

"Look at me," you ordered, your tone firm. His eyes snapped open, locking onto yours. "You’re going to cum when I tell you to, understand?"

"Yes," he panted, nodding eagerly. "Yes, I understand."

You imagined riding him since the moment he entered that club, young, hot, with his sleeves rolled up, the scent of masculine fragrance mingling with whiskey on his breath. Feeling this man, needy and sly, with his cock buried deep inside your pussy, spilling all that pre-cum, and fighting his demons not to cum, made you so horny.

 You licked your fingers, circling your clit to help yourself climax, making you clench around him again. A strangled moan escaped his mouth, his eyes were rolling back.

You leaned in close, your voice husky with desire. "You're so close, Channie," you whispered, your breath hot against his ear. "I can feel how badly you want to cum inside me. Do it, baby. Give it to me. Fill me up with your cum."

Chan's hips bucked against yours, his grip on your hips tightening. "Fuck," he groaned, his voice strained with pleasure. "I need to cum, please..."

You smirked, your fingers still working furiously on your clit. "You want to empty those balls for me, make me feel every drop of your cum inside me? Hm?"

Chan nodded frantically, his eyes glazed with lust. "Yes, god, yes. Please, let me cum. I can't hold on much longer."

With a wicked grin, you increased the pressure on your clit, feeling the tension building inside you. "Then cum for me, Channie," you urged, your voice a sultry whisper. "Cum deep inside my pussy."

Chan's entire body tensed, his breath hitching as he finally let go, his cum flooding you with warmth. You cried out in pleasure, feeling your own orgasm crashing over you in waves as you rode out the ecstasy together.

As you collapsed against his chest, Chan wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. You could feel your legs trembling in soreness, his cum still dripping from your pussy, and both of your bodies slick with sweat. Despite the exhaustion, Chan's embrace felt comforting and secure.

He ran his hands soothingly over your back, his touch gentle yet firm, as if trying to convey all his affection through his fingertips. You raised your head to meet his gaze, finding him looking back at you with a mixture of satisfaction and tenderness in his eyes.

You pressed a series of soft kisses to his lips, his cheeks, his jawline, savoring the warmth and intimacy of the moment. Chan smiled in response, his own lips curved upwards in a contented –fucked out– expression.

You summoned the last vestiges of your strength just to tease Chan, circling your hips ever so slightly, just enough to elicit a reaction from his sensitive body. 

"Wait, wait," Chan gasped, his voice strained with sensitivity. "I can't... I can't take it."

He held you firmly against him, his grip almost desperate as he tried to steady himself. The sensation of your hips circling against his heightened his arousal to a point where he felt like he might lose control at any moment.

You couldn't help but laugh at his reaction, a playful smirk dancing on your lips. Despite the exhaustion and the intensity of your encounter, you found his vulnerability endearing.

"Sorry," you chuckled softly, the sound mingling with his labored breaths. "I couldn't resist teasing you a little."

Chan let out a breathless laugh, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to regain his composure. He leaned in to press a gentle kiss against your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin for a moment before he spoke again.

"You're... you're something else, you know that?" he murmured, his voice filled with admiration. "I don't know how you do it."

You grinned up at him, feeling a surge of warmth at his words. Despite the intense physical connection between you, there was an undeniable emotional bond that had formed, deepening your connection even further.

"I guess I just have a way with you," you replied playfully, winking at him before snuggling closer into his embrace.

[inkedbybarnes]

be your date

bodyguard!bucky barnes x actress!fem!reader

summary: you are invited to this year's met gala, and your bodyguard is against the idea of letting you go alone.

word count: 500+

warnings: 18+ mdni. nothing sexual, but still. some banters. hints of fluff. a sprinkle of tension. grumpy but protective bucky (yes, that is a warning!) sort of bratty reader? lack of met gala knowledge probably. usage of petnames such as princess. lowercase writing.

photos used are only for aesthetic and not to describe or visualise the reader!

note: just a little drabble to the story/plot i've been writing! since there was recently a met gala, i thought this would be a great tease for this story. i hope you enjoy this one!

dividers made by @firefly-graphics!

comments, reblogs, and likes are highly appreciated. thank you! ♡

“you shouldn't go.”

as a celebrity, privacy was a rare luxury, and having your personal life being constantly invaded became your new norm.

it also meant having a personal bodyguard to keep you safe, but no one ever warned you about having a bodyguard who was both relentlessly protective and unbelievably attractive with a permanent frown on his face.

god, would it be so bad to have a crush on your bodyguard?

“you can't tell me what to do, you know that right?” you shot him a defiant look, although you knew he wasn't trying to control you, just keeping you safe.

getting a reaction other than a grunt from him was your favourite hobby, anyway.

a delivery was found on your doorstep this morning, containing an invitation and a bouquet of flowers. bucky was beside you as you opened the envelope, and immediately, he was against the idea.

“what even is the met gala?” he eyed the invitation you were holding, brow furrowed while he looked offended by the piece of paper. “it doesn't sound safe.”

bucky had learned about the letters that you would constantly receive, and how half of them were unusual and even concerning. you could still remember the frown he had kept all day when you received a marriage certificate in need of your signature.

he made sure to burn it by the fireplace.

and grunted at it one more time.

“nothing sounds safe to you, jamie.” you argued, rolling your eyes at his protectiveness. you slipped the card back into its envelope, unaware of the faint flush that spread across his face as he heard you call him by the nickname you've given him.

“it's a ball that a bunch of celebrities go to every year, but i don't really find it that special. my manager thinks otherwise though.” you explained. “and i do have to go alone if i'm attending it since it's really private. they even prohibited phones inside, so it should be safe.”

“i don't buy it.” bucky pursed his lips, remaining unconvinced. “i'm coming with you.”

“they won't let you inside. they treat this ball as a highly exclusive event. even bodyguards are off the list. i find it silly as well, don't worry.” you sighed, recalling how uncomfortable it was every time. you had no choice since your manager called it good publicity and a necessity for your career. “oh, unless i bring a date. i could probably sneak them in as a plus one. they love seeing a new pair to spark conversation. do you have anyone you trust enough to be with me so you can calm down?”

you waited for his response, but instead of answering, bucky took a step towards you, his gaze intense and unwavering. he looked at you with such intensity, making butterflies flutter in your stomach that none of your co-stars could do to you.

“i'll be your date.”

your eyes widened in surprise. was he serious? “what?"

"you asked me who i trust enough to be with you." he repeated, his face now inches away from yours, a faint smile dancing across his face. “well, princess. that person would be me."

i may have changed reader from sunshine to confident/bratty because i genuinely can't write a sunshine character without giving up... i'm not the best with jolly emotions. i think it still worked out tho!

oh, and here's a silly lil instagram post. thank you for reading!

if you have any requests for bucky, send them my way! 💌

[brewed-pangolin]

Ribbed for Her Pleasure

A/N: I can't recall who I saved this Soap photo from. If anyone knows, please tell me so I can give credit. 💛

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x Fem Reader

18+ MDNI Explicit Smut, P in V, filthy banter, car sex, slight exhibitionism

Thank y'all for being patient. Seems like the writers block has started to lift a bit, and I'm finally back to indulging myself in Soap filth. Enjoy a nice road trip that turns into an exciting sexcapade. @glitterypirateduck I decided to flip the script on this one. I can't say no to Soap being a menacing tease. @waves-against-a-cliff thank you for sending in my first 🛞⭕💢⭕💢🛞, hope you like it.

Love y'all. And happy Super Soap Sunday!

WC ~2k

4Runner Soap loves to tease while driving on extended road trips.

--

It's subtle at first. His warm hand resting on your thigh as you ramble on about nothing and everything under the sun.

He'll steal a few quick glances of your expression to attempt to gauge whether or not he's having the desired effect on you.

If you meet his steely gaze with equal growing intentions, he'll keep his hand resting on your thigh with a loving squeeze as his attention returns to the road ahead.

Yet if you show no reaction to his ministrations, continuing your verbal regurgitation of the weeks events, he'll have no choice but to press onward. His one hand gripped tightly around the steering wheel as the other moved further down ever closer between your thighs.

You feel his hand meandering ever closer to your clothed heat, but pay no mind to him. Only pointing out the next exit as you once more embellish his ears with mindless and unending banter.

Unperturbed by your unwillingness to give in, he sets forth in motion the one move, his last effort against your resolve to force you to finally surrender to him.

You didn't notice the subtle shift in the vehicles trajectory at first. Too focused on your phone and following the tiny icon as it moved along the highlighted route on the GPS.

It was only when you heard the rumbling hum of the tires over the ribbed outer lines of the lanes did you finally pull your eyes and pull your attention to him.

Before you could utter a singular protest, his hand moved the center of your thighs and pressed his index and middle finger into the inner seam of your jeans. Enhancing the continuous feel of the vibrations reverberating under the metal frame as they culminated into the growing throb emanating within your swelling folds.

"Johnny," you whimpered in feigning protest as his fingertips rubbed over the raised center of your trousers.

"What are you doing? Pay attention to the-"

"Shu' it, lass." Soap barked back with a playful bite rolling off his tongue.

"Rest tha' mouth a'yers fer a minute, yeah. Or I'm gonnae 'ave ta put ta better use."

Words failed you as his thick fingers continued to push into the flesh of your clothed cunt. Still riding the jagged lines on the pavement, making you roll your eyes back and bite your lip to quell the muffled moan threatening to escape within the depths of your throat.

"Ya like tha', bonnie? Ribbed fer yer pleasure by th'roadside?" He mocked with a confidence that never failed to make you quiver.

Feeling your arousal pool within in the depths of your soaking heat as his fingers pressed firmly against your swollen folds. Only managing to moan in response, which further fueled his resolve with a guttural growl, pulling his hands away from your growing pleasure and immediately shifting to take the next exit.

"Johnny, this isn't our exit."

"Nah. Emergency stop. Got a full stauner 'ere, and I cannae focus on nothin' else except tha' sweet pussy a'yers."

You turned to face him, eyes glancing down to focus on thr growing tent in his pants. The sounds of 4Runner's engine revving mirroring the sexual tension between the seats as Soap veered the vehicle into traffic, his eyes desperate and focused on finding a secluded passage for some much needed privacy.

-

It took no more than five minutes to find one that met his growing needs. A meandering dirt road that ended against an abandoned fence with a rusted and weather tempered 'No Trespassing' sign.

You barely had a moment to unbuckle your seat belt as he made his way to your side of the SUV. Inhuman speed fed by an unadulterated need to take you, unceremoniously throwing you over his shoulder with a huffing grunt. Only to be reciprocated by a piercing snicker, accepting your fate as he threw you into the flattened back of the cargo space and greedily began tearing your clothes away.

"Aren't you afraid we'll get caught?" Your pathetic attempt to reason with him only seemed to spur him further into a needy and unbridled rage.

"Fuck 'em. My need fer ya outweighs them bloody regulations." Soap spat back through gritted teeth.

Your exposed form laying out for him as he pulled his shirt over his head to reveal the chiseled frame that always seemed to render you speechless and begging for him.

Feeling the warmth of your arousal pool within your folds, spreading your legs to invite him in with a confident stare that mirrored his own hungry gaze.

"Steamin Jesus, look a'tha. Already fuckin soakin fer me, aren't ya, bonnie?"

"Always, Johnny. Nobody makes me wetter than you."

Soap's cerulean eyes swirled with glorious intent, flickering between your desperate expression and the glistening folds of encroaching conquest as he hastily unbuckled the confines of his trousers. Pushing the fabric of his pants and boxers down to release his throbbing length, a subtle whimper escaping his lips to the cool air hitting his hot flesh as a stream of precum ran down the tip of his reddened cock.

"Yer always so fuckin pretty like this, lass. Spread out an' jus' waitin fer me."

His jaw tightened to sight of your cunt clenched around nothingness in reaction to his sultry brogue. Splaying yourself out for him like a sacrificial lamb while the deafening sounds of echoing traffic echoed from deep within the trees and rolled around the walls of your private encampment.

"Gonnae fuck ya good, bonnie," he purred lowly with a rolling timbre. Ever so slowly moving like a predator as he encroached and hovered over your flushed and exposed form.

The maelstrom churning within the depths of his eyes luring you to his turbulent sea of ecstacy, nestling himself within the crevice of your thighs as he aligned his hardened cock to the puckering hole of your swollen cunt.

"Joh-" your muffled attempt to calm his name was silenced as his mouth sealed over your lips. Piercing the fluttering walls of your pussy in one fluid stroke, bottoming out with a resonating growl while his hands found purchase under the soft bend of your knees.

"Put yer knees on me shoulders, bonnie." He coaxed, pulling away from your lips to guide the shaky limbs of your legs over the broad expanse of his shoulders.

The sudden shift in position moving him slightly within your tight walls as the greedy flesh of your cunt clenched around his turgid length. Rolling your eyes back with a hissing breath, hands flying up above your head to find purchase within the haul of the vehicle as he laid his dense and muscular form on top of your folded and contorted frame.

"Tha's it, bonnie. Fuckin' clench around me. Lemme feel how much ya need me."

As the sounds of his rumbling voice reverberated within your ears, he glacially pulled his hips back. Nearly pulling out completely before penetrating once more and filling the silken depths of your heat in one fluid and languid thrust. 

Forcing a gravelly moan from within the cavern of your chest, fingers wrapping around the metal frame protruding from the haul as Soap braced his hands on either side of your head and steadily began to thrust himself deep into your greedy hole.

“Johnny- aren't ya gonna close- the hatch?” you groaned, gritting your teeth while he picked up his pace. Steadily pounding his hips against your ass, his lips curling into a cocky smile while his eyes glinted at his mischievous intent.

“Nah, bonnie. Gonnae give em- a good show-” he crooned in response with a breathy growl. Disregarding your concern for the outside world, continuing to pound his cock into your welcoming heat as the creaking sound of the suspension began to echo across the shell of your ears.

You attempted to lift your head and catch a glimpse of the tree laden environment around you, only to be forced back down as Soap changed trajectory once more. Your mouth falling open with a silently pleasured protest as the thick head of his cock ran over a sensitive bundle of nerves deep within your cunt that only he had managed to find.

“Holy fuck!” Your voice hollered over the sounds of the croaking suspension, finally giving into the unrelenting ecstasy only he could provide. Arching your back against the carpeted floor of the cargo space, desperate to meet his powerful thrusts and aid in his direction while he maintained a steady, vigorous pace.

“Found tha’ spot. Didnae I, bon? Gonnae make a mess on me cock? Scream me name as I fuck ya real good? Clenchin around me like-”

“Goddammit! Shut up!” 

His unending banter had finally pushed your quiet resolve to the wayside. Reaching your hand feverishly towards his neck, wrapping your fingers around the chain of his dangling dog tags to bring his running mouth down to your lips and ultimately rendering him blissfully silent. 

Sinking your teeth into the flesh of his bottom lip as you wrap your free arm around the back of his neck. Keeping his chest flushed against yours, a thin sheen of sweat forming between the sliding flesh and forcing only his hips to move as he pumped himself into the depths of your soaking heat.

The wet sounds of your pussy emanating off the plastic and fabric haul of his 4Runner, accompanied by the combined gasping breaths from your chests that formed into a blissfully erotic symphony. A duet only heightened by the most pornagraphic whimper you had ever heard against your mouth as his hips began to stutter and his eyes pleaded for his upcoming release.

“Steamin Jesus, bonnie. I’m gonnae come. Gonnae fill ya up.” Soap’s muffled words vibrated against the flesh of your mouth as your free hand gripped into the thick locks of his mohawk. 

Pulling his mouth away to bury his face into the crook of your neck. Letting your lips seal over the top of his shoulder and silence the strained bellow from within your chest as your orgasm suddenly erupted and coursed through your veins like a violent blaze.

Soap’s hot breath cascading against your flesh with a guttural growl, his hands gripping to the carpeted fabric as he bottomed out in one final thrust and emptied himself against the spongy walls of your pulsing cervix. Pulling his trembling body up to let your legs fall and extend, the burn of over exertion flowing underneath your skin as an all too familiar ache began to form within the buried tissue around your pelvis.

“Jesus Christ, Soap. Where the fuck did this come from?” Your voice hushed in the grips of blissful afterglow, hands meandering to his temples while his body steadily began to collapse above you.

“Donnae know, lass. Thinkin maybe, it was them bloody reflectors.”

Reluctantly, Soap began to pull himself off your overly exhausted frame, only to be pulled back down by your clawing hands and laid his head against your sweat ladened and heaving bare chest.

“Not yet, babe. Just rest a minute.” Speaking in a hushed tone, you pressed your lips against the drenched crest of his scalp. Tasting the saltiness against your tongue and allowing your hands to gently run down the curve of his spine as you felt him steadily give into body’s exhaustion. 

“If you don’t rest, Johnny, I’m gonna have to drive the rest of the way while you sleep this off.”

“Haud yer weesht, hen.” He retorted, his brogue quiet and muffled against the supple flesh of your breast. Your lips curling into a smooth smile as you reveled in the gentle sounds of nature accompanied by the everpresent hum of distant traffic.

4Runner Wingman Masterlist

@deadbranch @sofasoap @ohgeesoap @d3athtr4psworld @mini-metal @punishmepunisher @homicidal-slvt @glitterypirateduck @a-small-writer-in-a-big-world @ghosts-goldendoodle @shotmrmiller @mykneeshurt @astraluminaaa @writeforfandoms @tacticalanxiety @thetrashpossum @queen-ilmaree @sadstone-s @simpingoverquestionablemen @dustycrusty09 @foxface013 @haurasha @havoc973 @kkaaaagt @designateddeadend @luismickydees

[greensagephase]

Nonviolent Communication - Part Two

Pairing: Spider-Man!Miguel O'Hara x Spider-Woman!Reader Summary: You show up to HQ after a day off due to your period. You accidently intrude on your boss's personal moment. Word Count: 6,468 Warning: Sad Miguel Masterlist

Next Part

Part Two

The next day you wake up bright and early. You're definitely feeling a million times better. You sit up in bed and untuck your sweatshirt. Miguel's handmade rice socks slide out. You didn’t need them last night, but you still felt like using them to prevent or ease any cramps or pain during the night. You quickly get ready for the day, changing into clothes to go out and fixing your hair. You make breakfast and for some reason you check the cabinets and drawer from last night again. They're still fixed. The containers that Miguel left are in your fridge. 

You feel silly as you check this. It really did feel like a dream having Miguel O'Hara, your boss, visit your apartment and then to find out he had lied about the reason for his visit.

You reheat the canelita from last night as you eat breakfast and think. The realization that he had lied kept you up for a little while last night. You don't understand why he would lie about it. 

But then you also wonder what it meant. It wasn't like you thought he was heartless. Or some stone-cold man. He could act like he was sometimes, but you feel that he is not like that. You remember hearing the events that unfolded before your enrollment into the Spider Society. An altercation with Miles Morales, who is now one of your closest colleagues, trying to prevent his father from dying. Miguel launched a multiverse hunt for Miles, trying to prevent him from breaking the canon, which had resulted in several spider-members breaking off the Spider Society to side with Miles. In the end, Miguel had discovered that he was wrong. Miles’s father didn’t need to die to keep the multiverse balanced. After discovering he was wrong, he apologized and even helped Miles save his dad, according to Miles himself. So, Miguel O’Hara was not heartless, or completely uncaring.

He was, however, still filled with guilt and pain from losing his family. You couldn't help but wonder if he would ever be able to heal and move on.

He did care, you think. He was just too scared of showing it. Maybe he feared letting people know he cared or had the potential to still care. You sigh as you drink the warm canelita. Maybe that’s why he had lied. Perhaps he had been somewhat concerned for you and had decided to check your wellness. Then, seeing you in pain, he felt the responsibility to help. That was it. Whatever the reason, you know he didn’t want you to know. This was clear to you as he had made sure to tell you not to mention it to Jessica twice to prevent getting caught in a lie.

You finish breakfast and wash dishes before heading out. You stop as you're nearly out the door, turning to look at a picture of Peter. You bring your fingertips to your lips, planting a soft kiss before pressing them to Peter's lips on the picture. 

You smile at the photo. "This city depends on me," you say, remembering this was one of the things he had last told you. You head out then, fulfilling your daily promise to Peter of ensuring the safety of this city. You swing through the city, easily, looking out for crime or anyone in need of help. You watch the sky, the sun climbing higher and higher. The city never rests but you see it's still calm and early before the sidewalks are overfilled with busy citizens living their lives. You end up sitting on a tall building, just watching and patrolling. Your senses are met as you sit there. You hear chatter already. There are some honks here and there from cars below on the streets. Music plays from somewhere nearby. You feel a light breeze in the air, messing with your hair. There’s a bakery down below, and despite the height, the scent of fresh baked bread fills the air.

Your eyes end up on a couple. You can't help but watch as they walk hand in hand. Not a care in the world. They both look like they're going to work as they talk and laugh to themselves. Your gaze follows them until they reach an intersection where they part ways but not before they kiss on the lips. It looks like a longing kiss, as if they're already missing each other despite their bodies being pressed against each other’s.

A soft sight escapes your lips. That used to be Peter and you, you realized. It was that kind of love. The kind in which you'd start missing your person even before you said goodbye. The kind that had you already longing to kiss their lips again while you were kissing them. 

You longed to have that back. You missed having that. To still feel that. Even though it has been three years since Peter's death, you haven't thought about a new relationship. Sure, you have been asked out in the last year or so, but you didn't feel ready yet. You felt as though it was too soon. For some reason though, in this moment, watching the couple, you feel as though you are ready to be open to the possibility of a relationship again. You know it might never be the same as with Peter. Peter was the first everything. He's always going to be special and different to you no matter what but... 

That doesn't mean love can't come again, right? And you had promised Peter, too. That you would be open to it. As you look at the city before you, you realize you're okay with at least being open to a relationship now. It's not going to be immediate of course, as it's going to take a while to find someone you can trust the same way you trusted Peter. 

You sigh and get up, cleaning your pants. It seems that everything is good with your city. At least for now. You give one last glance at the lovers, now walking in different directions.

You walk away from the edge of the building and open a multidimensional portal, ready to report to HQ. Since you missed out on yesterday's meeting, you have no idea if you have special missions today or for the rest of the week. The sooner you show up to HQ, the sooner you'll know what you have been assigned and plus, you needed to go and organize the lab since you also skipped that. You enter through the portal, stepping out into the cafeteria which buzzes with energy of about seventy or so spider members. You nod to a few who you've worked with in the past as you walk by. The scent of coffee fills the air, making you crave it since you didn't have any earlier. You grab a cup then decide to grab another one for Miguel as you're heading there to collect the report from yesterday. You make your way to his lab, making it sooner than expected. You call for Lyla, who always appears. Except she doesn't appear right now. You frown. 

"Lyla?" you say hoping she'll pop out of nowhere like she usually does. You always call her before you go into Miguel's lab. You always do this to avoid entering unannounced, but Lyla doesn't appear with her bubbly and sassy personality.  

You debate going into the lab. On one hand, you need to figure out if you have a mission. What if there's something planned that you were assigned, and you miss it? You really don’t want to make any mission partners angry at you skipping accidentally. On the other hand, you don't want to just go into the lab unannounced even though you know other members do that sometimes.

You frown and debate internally, finally making up your mind. You push open one of the labs doors, careful not to spill any coffee on yourself, deciding that knowing if you have missions is more important. Once you enter, the door closes behind you softly. The lab is dark and quiet. You can spot the yellow lights from the monitors faintly. You begin to question if Miguel is even here. He might be out on a mission right now. You continue to walk further in just as you receive a message from Jessica through your gizmo. You put the cups of coffee down on a nearby surface, already too deep in the lab. You pull open the message, noticing that it was sent to all Spider Society members.

"Whatever you do, do NOT, and I mean do NOT, go into Miguel's lab today. Don't speak to him. Don't approach him. Avoid him at all costs. He's not to be approached today. Any questions you have, direct them to me." 

You curse under your breath. Why didn't Jessica send this sooner, you ask yourself as you look up. At least it seems that he's not here, you think as you look around only to realize you're very wrong. 

You feel shivers run down your body as you see him. He's hunched over his monitors on his platform. You hadn't seen him because the light was off. You stand still, heart racing suddenly. 

Shit, you think to yourself. Why did Jessica send the message two minutes too late? You begin walking backwards quietly, forgetting the cups of coffee. You'll retrieve them tomorrow if all goes well. You watch Miguel carefully, making sure he stays the same, making sure he doesn’t detect you. You make it a good bit before he moves. His movement is so subtle you pause walking, making you freeze in place.

Shit, shit, shit, you think. He's looking over his shoulder now, probably scanning the area. 

"Who's there?" Miguel asks, in a voice so much different from the one he used last night. This voice is raspy, laced with anger and something else. It's almost threatening. "Do not make me ask again," he says with a coldness that could put winter to shame when silence meets him. 

You hear your heart race in your ears. It's beating and beating. This is the scary Miguel people talk about, you realize. You hear him breathing. He sounds irritated. You decide to speak at last to avoid angering him any further. 

"It's me, Y/N. I'm sorry for coming in... I see you're busy, so I'll head out now," you say, before you begin speed walking towards the doors. Before you know it, however, you see Miguel's bright illuminating webs shoot past you and onto the doors, blocking them. You halt as you see this. You turn around slowly to face his direction, unknowing what’s going to happen next. Is he going to scream at you for interrupting him? Is he going to take out his emotions on you?

You watch carefully as he stands on the platform, facing you now. He looks menacing standing there on his platform with the lights off, the only visible lights being the yellow monitor lights which are faint to begin with. He stands still, watching in your direction, silent. You swallow hard before you take a step forward.

You can’t help but ask yourself what you’re doing. You should stay still; you should try and leave but no. Here you are, taking more steps towards him, approaching him as if he were a delicate glass figure who could break at any sudden and abrupt movement. All the while, Miguel stands there, like a statue. You can feel his gaze on you now. He has the kind of gaze that anyone could feel. Or maybe it was just you who felt his heavy gaze. You take step after step, until you are standing before him. He still stands there, towering over you, perfectly still. You release a slow breath as you meet his eyes. There’s anger, sadness, and grief in them. You tell yourself you should leave at that moment. Who are you anyway? You are just another member of the Spider Society. You are not one of his most trusted members. You are just you.

You are you, the one he checked on last night. You are the member he left his lab and million of duties he assigns himself for to travel to your universe to check on you. He helped you last night. He made you homemade rice socks to ease your pain. He made food for you, which happened to be one of your comfort foods. He made you canelita, to ease your cramps. He fixed your cabinets and took out the trash and dealt with the dishes. He watched you become overwhelmed with your emotions as you remembered Peter.

Even though Miguel O’Hara didn’t want you to know, he had shown up of his own accord and not because another member had asked him to. Jessica had not asked him to check on you.

He made the decision all on his own. You didn’t know why exactly but you were thankful, nonetheless. And that was all that mattered to you suddenly. You were grateful he had shown you kindness.

Still meeting his eyes as you think about this, you speak up again, knowing that the only thing you wish to do right now, is reciprocate that kindness. He can reject it. He can tell you to go away. He can laugh or mock you. You could care less right now. You just want to reciprocate the kind gesture from last night and that’s why you ask, looking into his maroon eyes, “Is there anything – anything I can do for you right now?”

Miguel’s eyes narrow down at you. There’s an emotion in them. Perhaps, surprise? Is he surprised by the question? Has anyone ever asked Miguel if they can do anything for him? Would he even let them if they asked?

Your arms hang at your sides as you continue to hold his gaze. “I could simply listen,” you say quietly, trying to tell him that he could just talk about whatever it is that’s bothering him. You’ll listen… If he lets you.

A few minutes go by – or maybe it just feels that long as the two of you stand in front of each other, holding each other’s gaze, in silence in his dark lab. You almost feel like he could do this all day. Just stand there, watching you with his maroon eyes narrowed at you. You wonder what he’s thinking. Or maybe he’s not even thinking. Maybe he’s so wrapped up in his emotions, he has forgotten you are there. Maybe you have become part of his lab, just another object laying around.

You begin to feel as though this will continue forever. You will be stuck in this moment with him until he snaps out of it. You find yourself thinking that you’d wait it out with him, to return the gesture of last night. You will stand here the rest of the day until he-

“Lyla,” Miguel says, finally breaking the silence. His voice is hoarse.

You feel stunned for a few seconds. You thought he’d only continue to stand there in silence for longer. You recover quickly though and nod slowly, hoping that this encourages him to talk more. You also wonder for a second if he’s requesting Lyla to show up, but she doesn’t appear. You find this strange. She’s not showing up even for him.

Miguel turns around, turning away from you to face the monitors. You stand still, in the same spot. You feel as though you should remain still, to avoid upsetting or alarming him. You notice that he begins to move his monitors around, though you cannot see what’s in them as his body covers your view. You wait for anything else. He sighs as he stops moving his monitors.

“Last night,” Miguel begins, “I returned from your apartment. I ran maintenance on Lyla before I left, and when I returned, I found a folder that she kept hidden from me.”

You listen intently, your brows furrowing as you hear the last bit. Lyla hid a folder from him? You can’t help but wonder what it contained but you know immediately whatever it was, is the root of his mood today. You watch Miguel’s head drop. The sight of this on a man like him, who always looks put together, stern, and unbreakable, is devastating. You feel the need to reach out to him. To lay your hand on his arm as a sign of support but you know very well that would be too much for the founder and leader of the Spider Society. You can’t help but think about something Jessica once said after you and other members had returned from a mission. The mission had been particularly hard, as you had all dealt with a vexing anomaly. However, it had been a success in the end, with the anomaly captured and returned to its original universe. One of the other members on the mission had joked about Miguel congratulating all of you with a hug, to which Jessica had responded in a very serious and somber manner that had snatched your teammate’s humor instantly after.

“Miguel cannot do physical touch in that way, right now. Perhaps he never will.”

You remember thinking how sad that sounded. That someone couldn’t do physical touch in that way. Of course, you understood why it would be hard for him. You had heard he had lost his daughter in his arms. Your fingers twitch, wishing you could comfort him but there’s a line. A line you’re unwilling to cross when you know Miguel has firmly drawn it. Your hands curl into fists, trying to end the need to comfort him. Listening will have to do, you think.

“The folder contains photos and videos of my… previous life. Of my daughter and wife,” Miguel says, sounding pained and heartbroken.

You share his sadness as you realize. Lyla had hidden it. Lyla, who is nowhere to be found… You piece the pieces together and conclude that the bubbly, cute, and sassy AI assistant has been deactivated or shut off for the time being as a result of Miguel’s emotions.

You don’t know what to say. What can you say? How do you respond to this unique scenario in which your AI assistant hides a folder containing contents from your previous life before disaster struck? As you stare into Miguel’s back, you think about Lyla.

Lyla, who is always sassy and bubbly. Lyla, who follows Miguel’s every command.

Lyla, who is the only one that accompanies the founder and leader of the Spider Society when he’s locked up in his lab. Lyla, who despite being AI, is the only one that knows in full disclosure about the life Miguel led.

The one who saw a happy Miguel. A Miguel with a wife and daughter. A Miguel that probably smiled and laughed often. A version of him that didn’t stare into monitors with a grief-stricken face. You cannot help but wonder in that moment, staring at his large back… What was it like to hear Miguel O’Hara’s laugh? You guessed it was deep and rich, the kind that probably made you want to make the man laugh more to keep hearing it. You wondered what his smile looked like, too.

You shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts. It was not the moment. You focus again. Lyla, the AI assistant that probably knew Miguel better than any other Spider Society member, had hidden a folder containing photos and videos of his previous life. Of his wife and daughter. And you know why. Or at least you are certain you know why. That little sassy and bubbly AI assistant cares for Miguel. You cannot help but pinpoint this as her reasoning for hiding it. She knows him and what he has been through. She knew it’d break him further to see more memories of his previous life.

Still standing behind him, unmoving, you gently respond, “I’m sorry…”

Miguel’s head is still hanging when he speaks again. “She hid it from me all these years. Do you know how many files I had before this?” he asks, his voice hoarse, still laced with anger and sadness. He responds before you can. “I had three!” he says, louder. “Two videos and one photograph! And she’s had this file containing over a dozen photos and videos of them. How dare she! How dare she hide this from me? How could she hide them from me… My family,” Miguel says with a much more desperate and mournful tone that almost makes you want to weep for him.

You notice his hand, laying against a monitor softly. He shifts his body some, allowing you, accidentally, to see the monitor. You feel overwhelmed with sadness as your eyes scan the photograph. There, in the monitor is Miguel standing in the back with his arms wrapped around a woman while the other one holds a girl. Your eyes move across the woman, Miguel’s wife. You had heard from other spider members that he had met her shortly after inserting himself into the child’s life. They had quickly fallen in love and had married in a short amount of time. She was beautiful with mid-length hair, bright eyes, and a warm smile. You move to the child. Her small face was precious with her toothy smile and scrunched nose as she looked at the camera. Her hair was in a ponytail, and she wore a soccer uniform. You cannot explain the feeling that overwhelms your heart as you see this beautiful girl. Finally, your eyes land on him.

Miguel O’Hara looks at the camera with happy eyes and a smile that leaves you a little breathless. The sight is strange and yet comforting in some way. His eyes are bright. He looks happy. More than happy, really. This was another Miguel. One that you had never met. One that you may never meet. You don’t fail to notice that he’s in casual clothes in the photograph, further indicating how different this version of him to the one in skin and bones before you are. Miguel never smiles or laughs. He is never seen in comforting and relaxing clothing. His eyes are never full and bright. There is no twinkle in his eyes like there is in the photograph. No, the eyes of the man in front of you are vacant of this twinkle. No sign of happiness.

An involuntary, deep sigh escapes from you. You freeze almost immediately. Miguel turns to you with an unreadable look on his face. You meet his eyes briefly before you  return your attention to the monitor.

“She was beautiful… They both were,” you whisper as your eyes land on the little girl again.

You wonder what she was like. Her soccer uniform gives you a glimpse of her. You imagine she was dedicated to it. She probably was good at scoring goals. You imagine her scoring one and running to the sidelines, where Miguel probably stood, watching, and cheering with his wife. You imagine them, going out to get ice cream afterwards to celebrate. You imagine Miguel giving her a ride on his back as she squeals, his wife laughing and finding the scene wholesome.

You cannot explain it. You feel as though you are grieving for him, the life he used to have. You grieve his happiness.

He was so happy. He had everything. A wife and a daughter. A family. And they were gone. Just like that.

As you stare at the photograph, your emotions swirling, you fail to notice Miguel watching you. He notices the way your posture has changed. You usually walk around with a posture that many envy. Your head is always high. Your face is usually bright and warm. And yet, when he looks at you now, he sees the way your arms hang at your sides almost in a helpless way. He notices your hands, curled in fists and wonders the reason for it. He observes your slumped shoulders, as if you were sharing the burden of his emotions in that moment.

Despite his emotions being a wreck right now, he finds the moment to feel off by this sight. He is used to seeing you happy and with a warm smile. He wondered a few times how someone could always carry themselves this way despite losing someone. He knew of your loss, of course. He didn’t know the exact details, but he knew it had been painful and his suspicions had been further confirmed last night when he had asked why you stuck around to your shitty apartment. He had seen the way you had focused on the wall with photographs. He had guessed you were looking at a photo of you and your Peter. He was never going to admit it out loud, but he had explored your apartment while you slept, and that wall had caught his attention.

His eyes had observed your face. There was not one in which you weren’t smiling. It didn’t matter if you were looking at the camera or not, there was a smile on your face. He couldn’t help but notice the way you smiled at Peter, too, in the photos that you were not facing the camera. It seemed to Miguel that Peter was your everything and you had proven his thought right when he saw your eyes focus on a specific photo on this wall. When your eyes filled with tears that threatened to spill down your face. When he saw the familiar emotions he carried with him every day.

Grief. Sadness. Heartbreak. Longing.  

Miguel swallows the lump in his throat as his eyes are still on you. He watches the way you scan the photo. There is no judgement from you. There is no question about how it happened. You just watch and you seem to feel his pain. He finally turns to the screen, shifting over, giving you a better view of the monitor displaying the photo. His movement is subtle, and it could easily be mistaken as an accident, but it was anything but that. Miguel O’Hara, for once, was okay with someone looking at a photo of his previous life. He felt that he could trust you, even though you were one of the newest members in his society. He felt something inside him when he heard you call his wife and daughter beautiful. His face had a longing look on it but a small, almost barely there, smile appeared on his face as his eyes scanned the photo again.

“They were…,” he said softly. “My daughter – her name was Gabriella.”

Your eyes shift to Miguel again. You can see a ghost of a smile on his face. It pains you to see this. He deserves to be happy, you think.

“That’s a beautiful name… Gabriella,” you say softly, and you don’t fail to see the way his eyes close when you say his child’s name. It’s almost as if it’s too much to hear it out loud but Miguel opens his eyes again.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve heard someone else say her name,” Miguel says quietly, barely audible but you hear it, and this breaks your heart. You watch him swallow. “She was bright, so bright. She did well in school. She loved science,” Miguel says before he brings his hand to his face. You watch as he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. Tears, you realize. He’s wiping tears off his eyes as he talks about Gabriella. And – suddenly, Miguel is talking about his daughter. Spilling everything that comes to his mind about her.

He tells you about the science projects Gabriella did and how she earned A’s. He tells you about her in the soccer team, how she put so much determination into her practices. How she dedicated her goals to him. About the way she had nightmares sometimes and how she called for him, him being the only one that could truly comfort her and lure her back to sleep. He talks about making her breakfast and how much she loved Saturday breakfasts especially because he made pancakes with chocolate chip cookies on them.

Miguel goes on and on, giving you more glimpses into his life and hell – you grieve that life for him. You grieve the death of a child you never knew. Your urge to comfort him grows with each detail he gives you. Your curled fists unclench and clench over and over. It’s so hard to hold back, to not wrap your arms around this man who is stuck in the past, grieving a life he no longer has… but you know you shouldn’t. You know you can’t as you remember Jessica’s comment about Miguel being unable to do physical touch. Instead, you do what you can do.

“She sounds like a wonderful child, Miguel,” you whisper still looking at the image, and you mean it. Little Gabriella sounds like a beam of sunlight. She sounds like the kind of child that could turn your frown into a smile. You smile faintly at her toothy smile. You wonder what kind of life she would’ve led but you stop yourself, feeling like you have no right to wonder that. “I have never said it before because I know…” you trail off not wanting to say what you wanted to say, which was that you knew this was a topic that couldn’t be brought up. Other members had warned you about bringing it up, so you never did. “… but I’m so sorry for your loss,” you whisper and hope your tone expresses your condolences.

Miguel remains silent. He continues to look at the screen and it appears his tears have slowed down at least. “Thank you,” he says, his voice sounding less hoarse and calmer, but it’s still laced with sadness.

You remember Lyla then and you can’t help but feel bad for the little AI assistant. You wonder if you will push it too far by bringing her up.

“I know I’m no one,” you start, turning your face to him even though he cannot see it. “To say anything and I know it’s upsetting, rightfully so…” you say, understanding why Miguel was so angry.

Miguel turns slightly towards you, as if interested in what you have to say. You let out a soft sigh. “Lyla – you know she cares about you, right?” you ask, softly.

Miguel turns his head away again and doesn’t respond for a few seconds until finally he nods. He sighs and brings a hand to his left temple. He massages it for a few seconds, perhaps a sign of a headache, you wonder.

“I know,” he answers quietly. “I know she did it to avoid – “ he says but doesn’t finish. You nod understanding.

“She’s always around to help you,” you say, a little smile forming on your face as you think about her. “She’s always so sassy but she always does her job.”

Miguel scoffs, nodding. “Her sassiness wasn’t planned. She took that trait all on her own,” he says but you don’t believe it. Lyla had once told you how sassy Miguel himself was before the events that changed his life forever took place. You guess his own sassiness was inspiration for hers. You smile as you think of that side of him, probably buried deep in him. You don’t mention this though and just nod. Maybe one day, you can see that side of him. Maybe.

“I haven’t seen her in a few days since I was out, but I miss her questions,” you say, referring to how she showers you with questions every time you clean the lab.

Miguel stays still and replies a few seconds later. “I deactivated her after I found out what she did.”

Your suspicion is proved correct then. You don’t say anything else. It’s not like you can ask him to bring her back. At the end of the day, Lyla is his creation. The two of you remain silent for a few minutes in his dark lab. Miguel finally sighs and straightens up, his true height towering over you.

“I’ll activate her again,” Miguel says, and his voice is in its usual tone now. The same one from yesterday while he talked to you in the kitchen. You feel relief wash over you. If you felt so attached to her without being her creator, you wonder how attached Miguel might be to her. Miguel then turns around, fully facing you. You look up at him. He is a different man than the one you first encountered earlier. He lifts his wrist closer to his face and begins clicking his gizmo. Not even ten seconds later, Lyla appears again.

She floats next to his head and looks around, seemingly confused. Her eyes land on you before they turn to Miguel.

“Miguel – you know I didn’t mean to,” she says and for once, her tone is not sassy or bubbly. She sounds truly sorry. Miguel stares at her, with eyes that reveal his attachment to her.

“It’s alright, Lyla. I know,” Miguel mutters and Lyla floats over to hug his head, happy to be back and forgiven it seems.

You try hiding your chuckle but fail miserably, catching both of their attention. You straighten up, noticing their gaze on you now. Lyla disappears and appears just as quickly as she disappeared, suddenly in front of your face.

She makes it a point to look like she’s whispering to you. “I guess I have you to thank, right?” she asks, winking at you behind her heart-shaped glasses. You chuckle softly.

“It’s good to have you back, Lyla.”

Lyla grins and offers you a fist bump. “This is why you’re one of my favorite spider members,” she says, earning a scowl from Miguel.

“I thought you said you didn’t have favorites, Lyla.”

Lyla shrugs at Miguel once she faces him after you return the fist bump. “It would hurt your feelings if you knew you’re not in my top five. Sorry, Miguel,” she says, still hovering over you. This earns Lyla another scowl.

“And I created you,” Miguel says in disbelief, but you can tell there’s a little bit of a playfulness in his tone.

“Y/N is in my top five.”

You raise an eyebrow. “I am? I literally joined the society like – four months ago.”

Lyla shrugs, floating back to Miguel. “That doesn’t matter, Y/N. I will not elaborate why you’re one of my favorites,” she says with a little smirk before looking at Miguel and then back at you. You can’t help but feel like her look at Miguel was to make some point as to why you’re one of her favorites, but you chalk it up to overthinking.

“Well, consider me flattered,” you reply with a grin, which Lyla returns before she looks around.

“So – you guys have been hanging out in the dark like some weirdos? Let’s light up this place,” Lyla says, and the lab is suddenly lit up.

The sudden light makes Miguel and you close your eyes in discomfort. You blink a few times, trying to get used to the change.

“Lyla, did you really have to do it that suddenly? A warning would’ve been appreciated you know?” Miguel asks, giving Lyla an annoyed look.

“Sorry, I just couldn’t stand the darkness in here.”

You chuckle quietly, still trying to adjust to the sudden bright lights. With your eyes finally adjusted, you look up at Miguel and Lyla. Lyla is grinning as she sits in the air with one of her legs crossed over the other. Miguel scoffs at her before he turns his attention to you. His face is calm and relaxed.

“I’m – sorry for the way I snapped earlier when you arrived,” Miguel starts with sincerity. “Did you need something?”

“Please don’t apologize, there’s no need to,” you say with a small smile. The last thing you wanted was for him to apologize when you intruded. Yet, you feel something in your chest you cannot describe at the fact that he has apologized. “I came to collect the report from yesterday’s meeting. I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t skipping missions.”

Miguel nods and steps off his platform, brushing past you. He walks over to another surface and picks up what you assume is the report. He walks back to you and extends his arm, handing you the report. You take it and thank him. You quickly flip through it, your eyes scanning the pages to see if you have a mission today. You see you don’t have anything until tomorrow.

You look up at Miguel. He seems to be looking elsewhere though there’s an expression on his face you cannot decipher.

“Well, that was all. Thank you and – I’m sorry for intruding,” you add with embarrassment.

Miguel turns to you and shakes his head softly. “Don’t worry about it…”

You smile briefly before you begin taking steps back. “Okay, well. I should head out… I’ll see you around,” you say before you turn around and begin walking towards the door. You suddenly remember the organizing. You stop walking but don’t turn. “Oh, I’ll come tomorrow after my mission to organize the lab, if you don’t mind.”

“Alright. See you tomorrow.”

“Bye, Y/N!” Lyla calls out.

“Bye, Lyla!” you say before exiting the lab, report in hand.

The door closes after you, leaving Miguel and his sassy AI assistant alone in a well-lit lab now. Miguel turns to his monitors. He stares at the picture for a few seconds. There’s a faint smile on his face before he closes the tab and folder. Lyla remains silent as if sensing that Miguel needs this moment. Miguel sighs, looking around the lab. Sensing that she can talk now, Lyla breaks the silence, noticing something.

“Why do you have two random coffee cups abandoned over there? I swear some of the members are so unorganized and forgetful sometimes,” Lyla complains, floating away.

Miguel looks around, a slight frown on his face as he searches the lab with his eyes before he spots them. Two cups of coffee are placed on one of the many surfaces of the lab. He stares at them, knowing instantly who brought them. He walks over to the surface and grabs one, lifting it to his face. It’s still warm in his hand and the scent of coffee fills his nostrils. He takes a sip, deep in thought for a few seconds.

“So, care to elaborate why Y/N is one of your top five spider members?” Miguel asks Lyla, curiously.

“I don’t think I will.”

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

A/N: Thank you for the support so far, it's really appreciated 🥰! Part three will be up in a few days. I don't know how long this will be but I think there might be five in total? We'll see! Also, excuse any spelling or grammar errors. I edited it but I read it for so long my eyes probably still missed something.

I still love Miguel O'Hara. That's all.

Next Part

taglist:

@loverlorn @saturnknows @d1lf-loverrr @eddiestitmiguelsbigdick @freehentai @arithestrawberry @scaleniusrm @haradasaya @spidermanismyfav @bitchykittenconnoisseur @thecraziestcrayon @mandodinstuff

[nicoline1998enilocin]

His innocent assistant | Part 2

PAIRING | Tony Stark x Lab Assistent!Fem!Reader

WORD COUNT | 4.8K

SUMMARY | Tony enjoys taking you to his parties as his date since he loves to show off his sweet, innocent assistant to everyone willing to hear about you. This time, however, the party doesn't go entirely to plan as he finds you flirting with none other than the God of Mischief himself, and jealousy takes over his entire being.

RATING | Explicit (E)

WARNINGS/TAGS | Innocent Reader, use of nickname (Princess, Gorgeous), jealous Tony

SMUT | Daddy kink, breeding kink, hair pulling, dirty talk, backscratching, lots of praise, lots of hickies, nipple play, oral (F&M receiving) 69, facesitting, fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), rough sex, multiple orgasms, aftercare.

A/N | This one-shot is written based on this request by @ccbsrmsf1. From the moment you thought of this idea, I couldn't let it go, and I'm very happy with how it turned out! This GIF you provided is also heaven, and it took me way longer than necessary to finish this because I kept going back to stare at it! The story can be read as a follow-up to part 1 or a standalone one-shot. I'm forever thankful for the sweet, wonderful, and amazing @ccbsrmsf1 who has proofread this story. 🩷

EVENTS Masterlist | @fandombingo | Loki Laufeyson Masterlist | @fandom-free-bingo | "I'm going to kill you."

Banners: Yours truly | Divider: @firefly-graphics | GIF: @ccbsrmsf1

Main Masterlist | Tony Stark Masterlist | Part 1

Everyone knows Tony's parties are exceptional - each more than the last - and it is always one of your favorite evenings when you get to accompany him as his date. There is never money saved on the lavish evenings, which also goes for your outfit. Tony has picked the perfect dress this time, and you're excited to wear it.

The dark green fabric drapes around your body beautifully, highlighting your curves just the way you like, and it makes you feel like the most beautiful Princess ever to walk the face of the earth. You're still determining how he does it, but Tony gets you a gown that fits you like a glove each time, and you enjoy being spoiled by him.

When your hair and make-up are done, you look in the mirror. Your nails match your dress, and the make-up is light to give your dress all the attention it deserves. The color compliments your skin, and when Tony arrives to pick you up for the party, he has to pick his jaw from the floor first.

"Look at you, Princess, you look amazing tonight," he purrs in your ear, his hands on your waist and squeezing very gently. The compliment lights a fire inside you, and you smile even wider as your eyes meet his in the floor-to-ceiling mirror.

"Thank you, Daddy, you picked a perfect dress for me!" you tell him excitedly before turning around and pulling him into a tight hug. He can feel his cock twitch as you call him 'Daddy,' which has become more natural to you now. He has to try not to rip the fabric off you to have his fill of you right here and now, so he is genuinely testing his patience.

Only one more night until he tells you how he truly feels about you. There is only one more night to get through before he can finally tell you what has been on his mind for a while now. With one last deep breath, he shows you his biggest smile as well before leading you away from the mirror and into the car waiting outside for the two of you.

After Tony has helped you into the car, you take your place, sighing when you're finally comfortable and ready to go. After a long week of work, you're looking forward to the party, just letting go for a few hours and crashing at Tony's apartment like you've done countless times before.

''When we get there, we have to walk the red carpet first, Princess," Tony tells you, and you nod happily.

Usually, taking photos isn't your favorite activity, but you will enjoy it with your appearance tonight. The outfit is stunning, and you can't wait to show everyone how much of a princess you are tonight.

As soon as you arrive, Tony speeds out of the car to help you out of the car as well, and you can see almost everyone is already at the party. As the host, he always likes to be 'fashionably late' as he calls it.

"Let's go, Princess, it's your time to shine on the carpet," Tony whispers before leading you to the long, bright red fabric on the floor, constantly stopping to take photos, always with Tony close by. Taking pictures is alright tonight, especially with how Tony has dressed you.

When the photos are finally over, you head inside, walking over to the bar to get a drink when you get stopped by Natasha and Wanda - dressed in black and red, respectively - their signature colors complimenting their hair and make-up perfectly.

"Girl, you look like the belle of the ball tonight!" Natasha says as she pulls you in for a hug. Out of all the Avengers, you have liked her most, as she is the girlfriend you have always wished to have. She doesn't treat you like you're 'dumb' or less than her; she accepts your innocence without looking down on you.

"Thank you so much! Tony got this beautiful dress for me, and I feel like a princess tonight," you tell her, and you feel his fingers digging slightly into your side. After a few more compliments and pleasantries, Tony takes you to the bar for a much-needed drink.

When you're there, he is suddenly pulled away for some business with Bruce, and you look around the party, spotting some of the other Avengers, too. Steve and Bucky are in a darker corner of the bar, and you wave at them. They politely give you a wave and a large smile in return.

When you decide to walk around and see if there's anyone else you could talk to for a little while, you're suddenly stopped by a dark-haired, slender man with a dark green suit that looks perfect against his pale skin.

"Hi, Loki! It's been a long time since I've seen you. How are you?" you ask as he pulls you in for a hug, which you happily reciprocate.

"I'm even better now that I've run into you! Your body is beautiful now that it's adorned with my signature color, Gorgeous," Loki says in a smooth tone, making you preen a little at his words. He's always been a charmer toward you; it makes you feel good when he tells you these things.

"You look good too, Loki," you tell him as you sip your drink, letting the liquid warm you from the inside out. He keeps the conversation going for a while, asking about your work as he talks about life on Asgard, too, as it has always fascinated you.

"Do you want to visit our palace sometime, Gorgeous? You'll fit right in there between all the royalty that lives there," Loki tells you, and you let out an excited squeal. When he hears this, Tony turns his head towards you, a muscle in his jaw ticking as he sees the two of you.

You don't notice it as you look his way and smile at him, and he smiles back at you before sending a death stare toward Loki. He gives him a mischievous look in return before turning back to you.

"Are you sure it's okay for me to visit there? I mean, I don't want to overstep or anything!" you ask, and when he confirms it's okay, you smile broadly at the thought of being able to visit Asgard with Loki. The entire time, Tony keeps an eye on you and is close enough to hear every word you two exchange.

It doesn't take long before Tony excuses himself to come and see what you are up to, and that's when Loki decides to lay it on even thicker with the flirting.

"Have I told you that there is not a single star in the universe that shines as bright as you? With your beautiful smile, and-" is all he can say before Tony makes his way over, having enough of Loki flirting with his girl.

"Can I talk to you for a moment, Princess? Something important came up in the lab, and I need your help," Tony says sweetly before sending you on your way, even though nothing is happening there. If there were, you would have gotten a notification on your phone, and you look at it to be sure, but there's nothing.

The second you're out of earshot, Tony turns back to Loki, who's just giving him an amused smile.

"The next time you even think about pulling a stunt like this again, I'm going to kill you, Laufeyson," Tony growls, his dark brown eyes looking angry at the God in front of him.

"I'm looking forward to it, Stark. Now go get your girl; she must be waiting for you in the lab," Loki says, and Tony quickly turns around before maneuvering his way through the crowd to get to you. Seeing you with Loki has uprooted some feelings he has tried to push away for a long time, but he can't deny them any longer.

"Princess, wait!" he says as you step into the elevator, ready to take the ride down to Tony's lab - and your working area. As you stand in the opening of the elevator, you turn around to see Tony running towards you.

"Can we talk? I need to tell you something, and I really can't wait any longer to tell you this," he says between pants, catching his breath as you step into the elevator together, but he doesn't push any buttons, instead letting the doors close behind you so it's just you and him.

"What's wrong, Daddy? Did something bad happen in the lab?" you ask with furrowed brows, worry starting to settle in your stomach as he looks at you with the most beautiful, deep brown eyes you've ever seen. Now that he's this close to you, you can't help but take a good look at him.

"Nothing happened in the lab, Princess; it was just something I said to get you out of there without raising any suspicion," he tells you, and even though you feel a little hurt at his words, you quickly forgive him. If there's one person you can never be mad at, it's Tony.

"I- I don't know where to start..." Tony starts as he rubs his neck with his hand, looking at the floor as he gathers his thoughts. Now that he will confess his feelings, he's unsure how to say the words. They're getting caught in his throat and won't come out.

"It's okay, Daddy; you know you can tell me everything, right?" you say as you step to him, taking his face in your hands and lifting it to your soothing eyes. You give him a small smile, which he returns before taking a deep breath, gathering every last bit of courage he can muster.

"I- I have feelings for you, Princess. At first, the feelings were only physical, but they have grown to be more. I can't stop thinking about you. I even dream about you, and it's taking over every second of every day," he tells you, but you're not entirely sure what he's talking about. You think about him often, and sometimes you also dream about Tony.

"I do that too, Tony; it's okay. There's nothing to be ashamed of! I even dreamt about you last night!" you tell him excitedly, and Tony chuckles at your innocence. You're not dumb, far from it even, but you're just very innocent when it comes to these things, and it warms his heart each time.

"No, Princess, I think you're not getting what I'm telling you. What I mean is that- well- I'm in love with you more than I've ever been with anyone. I get butterflies in my stomach each time you say good morning or when our fingers brush when you hand me my coffee," he tells you, a deep blush on his cheeks as he tells you these things.

"I love you, Princess, and I want you to be mine. I want to call you my girlfriend, fall asleep with you in my arms each night, and make breakfast for you in the mornings. I want to go on dates and take long vacations to the other side of the world. I want to kiss you whenever, and I want you, Princess. Above all else, I want you more than I can ever explain," Tony finishes his confessions. That's when he notices the tears gathering in the corner of your eyes.

This is the first time someone has ever told you this instead of hanging out with you for sex, and it is warming your heart. Finally, someone sees you for the woman who you are inside, and it's all you ever wanted and more.

"I love you too, Tony," is all that leaves your mouth in a whisper before you lean in to kiss his lips, sealing in the love confession you have just exchanged. Your lips move together in a sweet, soft pace that has both your hearts beating faster, your bodies slowly inching towards one another until your chests are touching.

The moment you move away to get some air, you already miss the feeling of his lips on yours, wishing the moment lasted forever. Instead of physically pushing the elevator button, Tony orders JARVIS to lead the elevator to his penthouse, as he doesn't want to let you go anymore. Now that you're his, he's not letting you out of his grasp again.

As soon as you and Tony are in his beautiful penthouse overlooking the Manhattan skyline, one of your favorite sights to see. You're often in front of your bedroom window as you admire the view, but that's nothing compared to the sight up here.

"Do you like what you see, Princess?" Tony asks as he comes to stand behind you. You're standing in front of his huge floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room, marveling at the sight. As you keep looking outside, Tony lets his hands glide over your bare arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

"Yeah, it's beautiful at night," you whisper as Tony lets the fabric of your dress glide off your shoulders, baring your entire top half to him. As soon as the cool air of the room hits your exposed flesh, your nipples pebble instantly, and your eyes shut as a shudder runs down your spine.

"Look at you, already so responsive for me," Tony says as a smile tugs at the corners of your lips. It doesn't take long before the rest of your dress is also on the floor, and you're standing in front of him in nothing but a pair of lacy panties and your heels.

An appreciative sound leaves his lips as he takes in your figure in the window, the reflection giving him the perfect sight. His hands roam a little more over your body before finding your hard nipples, letting his fingers ghost over them before softly rolling and tugging to get the small moans out of you he loves so much.

"That's it, Princess, let Daddy make you feel good," he whispers as you give yourself to him and his touches. Your hands are clenched in fists by your side, and your thighs are rubbing together to give yourself some relief as your panties are dampening more and more each second.

"D-Daddy," you whimper, and Tony feels his hard cock twitch against the fabric of his jeans, the zipper digging into his flesh. He keeps stimulating your nipples for a little longer before carefully pulling his hands away, making you whine softly at the loss of his touch.

"Don't worry, Princess, if you come with me to the bedroom, I will make you feel so good you'll forget just about anything but my name," Tony says, which excites you a lot. You practically run to his bedroom, and Tony can't help but chuckle, his gaze locked on the way your butt jiggles as you take each step.

It doesn't take long for Tony to appear in the bedroom, his jacket, tie, and shirt long gone, and his pants already open as he walks over to you on the bed. The brown in his eyes is almost completely gone as the lust has taken over, a smirk on his lips as he looks at you. This look has you feeling warm all over and your panties dampening even more until they're practically soaked through.

"Spread your beautiful thighs for me, Princess, so Daddy can see how wet your princess parts are for him," he says, and you do as he asks. A groan escapes his chest as he sees you're dripping for him, and he can't wait any longer as he sits on the bed, leaning down until his face is at eye level with your soaked pussy.

"Look at that, such a good girl for Daddy," he praises you as his hands guide your thighs even further apart to make room for him and his broad shoulders. He places a few soft, small kisses on the crease where your thighs meet your hips before moving to the wet fabric of your panties.

"So wet for me already, hm? I can't wait to have a taste of your sweet juices, Princess," he says, and without any further warning, he sucks the fabric of your panties into his mouth, letting the taste of you flood his tastebuds with a deep groan. He licks your clit through the fabric, which only adds to your pleasure, your back arching as you grind your hips against his face.

"D-Daddy! 'M close," you tell him as your hands grab his hair, but he doesn't give up, no matter how hard you pull on it. Instead, he only works harder to get you to your first orgasm of the night, as he's planning on giving you many, many more. He just groans in response as he keeps working your clit, and before you know it, your first orgasm washes over you, soaking the fabric in Tony's mouth even more.

He keeps working you through your orgasm until you push his head away, finally letting go of the fabric, which he quickly pulls off before throwing it on the floor. You're panting as you let your head fall back onto his pillows, a thin layer of sweat already adorning your skin. And this was only the first of the evening.

"Taste so sweet, Princess. Your juices always make me go crazy; I can never get enough of them, he tells you as, between the hickies, he sucks into the plush flesh of your soft thighs. He takes his sweet time decorating both with a litter of purple bruises before he gets up to take off his pants, finally freeing himself from the confinements.

He looks at you straight-faced, and what came out of his mouth next surprised you.

"I want you to sit on my face, Princess; I want to work you open nice and slow before I sink my thick, delicious monster of a cock into that tight, warm pussy of yours," Tony says to you, and you feel a gush of arousal between your thighs as you lift your head in astonishment.

"A-Are you sure?" you ask him, and he nods before kneeling in front of you on the bed.

"I've never been more sure about anything, Princess. There's nothing more than for you to sit on my face - sit, not hover - as I open you up for me," he tells you before capturing your lips with his, the feeling of his tongue in your mouth intoxicating you. Far too soon for your liking, he pulls away, giving you a questioning look.

"Okay," you tell him, and you let him get into position before you straddle his face in reverse cowgirl style and sink until your pussy is fully settled on his mouth and tongue. A groan leaves Tony's chest as he starts to eat you out, his warm tongue feeling a bit odd yet very pleasant inside your pussy.

As time goes on and the pleasure builds, you lay yourself down on his chest, his cock lying hard on his abdomen as pre-cum leaks from the tip. You give it an experimental lick, which makes him groan again, and it only adds to your pleasure. His tongue keeps going inside you as well as stimulating your clit as you take him into your hand, jerking him up and down slowly.

It's most definitely not the first time you will suck him off, but it has never been this intimate before. The times before this have always been in his lab, and after, you have always returned to your work as if it was part of your job, but this time is different in the best way possible.

When Tony carefully introduces two fingers into the mix as well, you let out a loud moan before grinding against them, fucking them in and out of yourself at a leisurely pace. As you do this, you wrap your lips around the tip of Tony's cock, your hand still pumping up and down over the velvety shaft.

"Hmmm, that's it," Tony moans as you take more and more of him into your mouth while he patiently keeps stretching you open. It doesn't take long for him to fit three fingers inside you comfortably, and he praises you for taking him so well. When you're about halfway down his shaft, you can't take any more of him, so you let your hand take care of the rest.

"One more finger, Princess, one more finger, and then I can finally make love to you the way I've been dreaming of for so long," he tells you, and you moan around his cock at the thought. As he stretches you with his fourth finger, he keeps sucking on your clit, and before you can even comprehend what's happening, you cum, squeezing his fingers like a vice.

The moans you let escape are almost enough to send Tony over the edge too, but he manages to hold out long enough not to cum, as he wants to fuck it deep into your pussy, and not your mouth. When you're finally adequately stretched, he lets you climb off before manhandling you in the position he wants you in, a squeal escaping when he does.

"There you go, Princess, that's just perfect," Tony says as he takes his place between your thighs, his cock still hard as a rock between his own, his balls heavy and full of cum.

"Ready?" he asks, and as soon as you nod, he lines up with your entrance, slowly pushing in. The tip easily glides in as you're dripping at this point, your arousal being all the lubricant you need to make this comfortable.

"God, this fucking pussy feels so good! And you know what's the best of it all?" Tony asks you as he sinks in further, and you shake your head. He grabs your thighs as he bends them back, giving him even more room to work with as he practically folds you in half.

"It's all mine. You're mine, and I'm never letting you go. Do you understand that? You're my girl, and no one else can have you," Tony says as he bottoms out, a long, deep moan following from both of you as he does. After you've adjusted to him, he repositions himself so he can fuck you the best way he knows how.

As he practically lays himself over your body, his biceps keeping your legs folded back, he sets a brutal pace that has you crying out his name. He knows you can handle more than you think, and if you ever need it, you can safeword at any moment in time, no questions asked. But you don't because you enjoyed being pounded like this - like he's using you like his human fleshlight.

Long, broken moans escape your lips as your eyes roll into the back of your head. The sound of balls slapping against your wet skin and Tony's groans all mix to make the most delicious yet dirty harmony, which neither of you can get enough of.

"Feels so good, Princess, squeezing Daddy's cock with this tight pussy of yours," he says, and the closer you're getting to his orgasm, the more you're looking for something to ground yourself. Eventually, you find his back, leaving many deep, dark red scratches.

The burning sensations on the scratches on his back only turn Tony on even more, his balls drawing closer to his body as he can't hold out much longer, his orgasm quickly approaching.

"God, 'm gonna cum, Princess! Gonna fuck every drop of my cum into your pussy until you're fucking pregnant with my baby! That's what you want, huh? Daddy's cum? I thought so," he says with a smirk, and it doesn't take long for both of you to cum at the same time, Tony shooting every last drop of his cum deep into you.

"Jesus, fuck! 'S so much cum for you, Princess, all for you," he says as he pants on top of you, the burning sensation of the scratches on his back making him chuckle.

"I love you, Princess; I love you so much," he whispers against your hair before he pulls out, making you whine at the loss of his cock inside your pussy. As he rolls onto his side, you carefully stretch your legs after the position he's had you in for a while, a groan leaving your lips at the feeling of your sore muscles.

"Daddy?" you ask in a small, slightly slurred voice.

"Yes, Princess?" he says as he looks at you and tucks a piece of hair behind your ear.

"Love you too," you tell him with a small smile, and with that, he pulls you against his chest, getting some much-needed post-sex cuddles. This type of intimacy is something you enjoy, and finally, exploring it with Tony fills your heart with nothing but love.

Tony pulled the covers over both of you after you fell asleep, the exertion from earlier lulling you into a slumber immediately. After about an hour and a half, you wake up again with a rumbling belly.

"I can hear someone's a little hungry! How about this: I will run us a nice, hot bath, and while you get the first soak in the hot water, I'll prepare some of your favorite fruits. After that, I'll join you, and we can enjoy it together," he offers, and you nod.

The loss of Tony in the bed has you crawling deeper under the covers, rolling yourself up like a burrito as you wait for the bath to be filled and Tony to get you. Luckily, you don't have to wait long, and he's soon back in the bedroom to pick you up and let you sink into the bath.

The hot water is soothing for your sore muscles, specifically your hips and thighs, and with a sigh, you let yourself settle in the water while Tony goes to get the promised fruit. You close your eyes for just a few minutes, and once Tony's back with a bowl of different fruits, you make some room for him to join you.

"Hmm, the water feels perfect," he sighs as you get comfortable on his lap, and you nod in agreement. The two of you feed each other the different pieces of fruit, from strawberries and raspberries to some mango and pineapple, making it a delicious mix.

A comfortable silence has fallen over you as you finish the bowl of fruits before washing each other carefully. Taking a bath is something you very much enjoy, and to do it together with Tony only makes it about ten times better, and you already can't wait for the next one you get to take together.

Once you're both done and Tony has dried you off, he hands you one of his t-shirts to sleep in before he pulls on a pair of sweatpants, not bothering to put on a pair of boxers this time. As soon as you're back in Tony's arms, nestled deep under the covers, you fall into a deep sleep, which you need.

The following day, Tony woke up before you, but he left a note to let you know he was in the gym. So, as soon as you put on a pair of Tony's boxershorts, you quickly go to your bedroom to get dressed in sweatpants and an old t-shirt before breakfast, hoping it isn't too obvious you slept with Tony last night.

When you are in the kitchen, you quickly make yourself a smoothie bowl before heading to the gym and sitting on the pile of mats as you watch Tony work out. When your gaze meets his in the mirror he's standing in front of, he stops for a moment to wink at you and take his shirt off, only to be met with lots of gasps from everyone in the room.

While Tony assumes it's about his physique, you can see what's happening. You have scratched Tony so hard and deep that most of the lines have turned into bruises, making his back look like a cat's claw mauled it.

"Wow, Stark! Looks like you got lucky last night!" Natasha says as she looks at you, and the feeling of embarrassment runs through you.

"What are you-" is all he can say before someone shows him a picture of his back, and he gasps loudly. Not because he's horrified, but because he's proud that he made you feel so good last night, it's still visible today.

"I sure did, man! And this won't be the last time either," he says with a wink to you, and a broad smile appears on your face. He wears every single one of your marks with pride, and even though most people don't know they're from you, you still take pride in the fact you're the one who gave them to him.

[hismourningflower]

「 scary dog privileges | kiss (don't tell!) event 」 blade & cyno x gn!reader | fluff, established relationships | event entry. ↳ ohhh zenith~ (@lovingluxury), i'm your secret admirer for this year's kiss (don't tell!) event !! you get my very first attempt at blade, i'm so sorry but i'm so glad i got to practise him !! happy valentines my lovely, i hope this year treats you how you deserve it !! ↳ shoutout to my oc chrysalis for being on my mind for the entirety of blade’s part

the jade's guidelines | genshin m.list | honkai m.list | kiss (don't tell!) m.list

BLADE calls falling for you "a mistake," one that he made quite boldly. nonetheless, he only ever grumbles this under his breath and never actually aloud - he can't bear to see that faint grimace of hurt on your face. no matter how many times he says he doesn't care, he quite clearly does.

it's a well known fact that's not into all of the lovey dovey romance stuff you rope him into with a wide smile on your face, tugging his calloused hands in the direction of another pretty scenic backdrop for a couple selfie or when you place matching items into his rough palms. behind closed doors, he finds the pads of his fingertips tracing over the photo or item with some 'annoying' sense of longing.

blade is scary to a lot of people. he knows he is, it's unmistakeable when people cower at the sight of him. their eyes shrink in fear, lips trembling when they can barely stutter out words in his presence. this is precisely why he loves to loom behind you, even when you're unaware of him being there - in his defence, he's quite quiet when he tries - because the mere sight of him scares people off. you want to scold him but you're thankful for this newfound privilege when you're stuck in uncomfortable situations, regardless you know that blade wouldn't bat an eyelid and would simply ignore you.

he undeniably has a soft spot for you - this "mistake" of his. the other stellaron hunters pick up on it fairly quick, smug looks on their faces as they share glances every time the two of you are together around them. blade wasn't sure you'd get along with the stellaron hunters at all, can you blame him? they're an organisation that isn't exactly in anyone's good books. yet you seem to bond well with kafka and silver wolf... what a shame for him. unfortunately, this means he's prone to hearing silver wolf and kafka taunt him about this little soft spot of his; "what's wrong bladie? you're going soft," kafka chides with a sly grin, only to hear a disapproving grunt from the tall man.

in private, blade's personality doesn't change all that much. he's still grumbly, his scary demeanour hanging over his head like a guillotine thanks to his mara but there's a slight shift in his behaviour. he likes to lay with you, not that he'd ever admit that (aeons forbid if he did, he'd never hear the end of it.) in fact, it's his favourite thing to do, especially after a stressful mission.

when things get tough and the mara hurts just a tad too much, blade will always find a comfort in laying his head gently on your chest or your lap, regardless of what you're doing just so that you run your hands through his dark hair. just so he can feel the tips of your fingers rub against his scalp, feel the way you braid little - or big - braids into his long hair. he stays silent as you comb through his black locks, brushing out every tangle so gently he barely feels it.

he may claim that getting too close to you was "a mistake" but by the aeons, he knows damn well that he's lying to himself.

CYNO didn't intend to fall for you. it had been a mere accident but he'd never let the words 'mistake' fall from his lips, celestia forbid he even uttered 'accident' either. tighnari unfortunately had heard him say 'blessing' a tad too many times, however.

the general mahamatra... plenty of people in sumeru are relatively scared of him. why wouldn't they be? he's obsessed with his work, heavily devoted to his job of chasing down criminals and enforcing justice. even if they don't fear him, people most certainly know cyno - whether it be his name, his looks, his accomplishments or merely his rank title. despite this scary demeanour everyone sees when he's working, cyno really isn't as scary as people make out him to be.

cyno is incredibly self aware of people's thoughts and words about him. he knows damn well that people find him scary - that's the whole point of his comedy act and awful jokes he throws out without a second thought, his facial expression still as stern as ever as if he doesn't even find his own jokes funny. he tries not to let it affect him, in fact he's adapted; he'll use it to protect you.

don't get him wrong, he's perfectly capable at protecting you without instilling fear into the people bothering you but combat is tedious and you've scolded him many times for attempting to use hermanubis on some poor soul who rubbed him the wrong way. what's more better than looming like a threat, red eyes piercing into their very soul until they take the hint? sometimes he doesn't even need to go that far - the sight of him sends people running, they're not particularly looking for trouble with the general mahamatra after all.

despite trying to figure out how people work so he can soften the aura around him when people get too tense in his presence, cyno doesn't completely understand the lovey dovey things you rope him into. he understands to an extent, picking up the things you love the most so that he can do when you least expect it; he understands that it means a lot to you and that's all he cares about. you.

and undeniably so, he's ten times less 'scary' in private. kaveh and tighnari can't help but taunt him when he's brushing his tanned thumb over your knuckles, pressing slightly chapped lips to your skin in delicate kisses - what do you mean that's the general mahamatra? they'll grin but secretly, they're happy that cyno has someone that brings this side of him out.

one of cyno's favourite things to do outside of catching criminals so that they may face their judgement for their crimes (other than tcg...) is cook for you. when i say cook, i mean actual meals and not the rations he eats while he's out in the scorching desert or deep in the apam woods on dirt paths that have been worn into the grass from centuries of people walking through. he loves it, the idea of being able to provide something to you that he knows you enjoy and honestly, he's not a bad cook. however, you regret introducing him to non-native sumeru recipes when he mutters "wanna hear a joke about pizza?" oh no. even if you say no, he'll be quick to add "nevermind, it's too cheesy."

you're quite literally the most important thing to him other than work and if he has to use means he's not fond of just to protect that loving comfort you shelter his cracked heart with, then so be it.

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

© thexianzhoujade 2024. | do not re-upload, copy, translate, etc. my works on any form of media.

[imaginesig]

Documenting A Propsal

Paul Aron x Leclerc!Reader

Your engagement as documented by your brothers girlfriend.

I’m editing this while watching the Hungarian GP— Paul what are we doing?? This isn’t how we win championships?? Let’s come back better please

imessages

to Alex Saint Mleux

from Yn Leclerc

hey i was on instagram and im not able to see your account

Hey thats so weird

i just saw some stuff that insta is glitching

oh ok

it messes up all the time so im assuming this is one of those mass breaks

i guess your right

in that case can you let me know where you got that dress from your last post

the link is coming your way!!

alexandrasaintmleux (private)

liked by mama_leclerc, paularon_, charles_leclerc, and 123 others

alexandrasaintmleux: best part about dating someone with a little sister? She doesn't know she's getting proposed to in a week but I do!!!

tagged no one

mama_leclerc the sweetest!!! Just who my girl needs ❤️❤️

charles_leclerc she doesn’t know and I don’t know how to feel

Paularon_ thank you so much for agreeing to help!!

Alexandrasaintmleux planning on documenting the whole thing!! I hope she believes our lie and doesn’t find out she’s blocked 🤞🤞🤞

annaron_ I'm so unbelievably excited

alexandrasaintmleux same!! messaging you right now about a engament dinner theme

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alexandrasaintmleux (private)

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, annaron_, and 184 others

alexandrasaintmleux: just some fine tuning!! Thank you @/maxverstappen1 for distracting her while we walked through the plan

tagged no one

maxverstappen I’m never taking her to play paddle again

Charles_leclerc she’s a bit competitive

arthur_leclerc and mean

lorenzotl and intense

paularon_ and scary

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alexandrasaintmleux (private)

liked by charles_leclerc, mama_leclerc, paularon_, and 142 others

alexandrasaintmleux: since Paul can't post it, "last race as bf-gf"

tagged: no one

paularon_ ❤️❤️

mama_leclerc beautiful pictures ❤️❤️

arthur_leclerc I don’t like how this makes me feel 😭

annaron_ crying

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alexandrasaintmleux (private)

liked by nailartist, charles_leclerc, Francisca.cgomez, and 281 others

alexandrasaintmleux: wonderful job by @/nailartist!! Our girl is all photo ready 💅

tagged: no one

nailartist it was a honor to do these special nails!! They’re gonna be gorgeous with the bling 💍💍

alexandrasaintmleux thank you!!!

mama_leclerc I love the matching nails!!

Charles_leclerc beautiful

Alexandrasaintmleux ❤️❤️

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Alexandrasaintmleux (private)

liked by charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc, lorenzotl, and 182 others

alexandrasaintmleux: first, a sister date (plus Leo) and now off to her special night!!

tagged: no one

fransica.cgomez so so excited!!

charles_leclerc im not ready

arthur_leclerc me either

Lorenzotl we can still stop them, steal the boat

alexandrasaintmleux who are you acting so big and bad for?? All of you cried when Paul told you he was proposing

charles_leclerc I was exposed by my own girlfriend 😭😭

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alexandrasaintmleux (private)

liked by charles_leclerc, mama_leclerc, lorenzotl, and 173 others

alexandrasaintmleux: floral dinner party to celebrate 🩵

tagged: no one

charles_leclerc you’ve done a wonderful job planning and setting this up!!

mama_leclerc thank you sweet girl for all the work and time you’ve put into making this so special for Y/n!! Not only have you helped guide Paul and make his plans come to life, you planned a wonderful event to celebrate in a way Y/n will love!!!

alexandrasaintmleux 😭❤️❤️

Lorenzotl the floral theme came to life

annaaron_ we plan a great celebration!!

alexandrasaintmleux i say we start a bussiness

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Alexandrasaintmleux posted a story

Caption: she said yes!!! My beautiful bride to be 🫶💍✨

Replies

ynleclerc

I’m crying I love you!!!!

Omg I just stalked your account, that’s so sweet😭😭

It was Paul’s idea to document everything but he couldn’t post it

You’re the best 🥹🥹

I love you baby sis

I love you too Alex

ynleclerc

Liked by charlie_leclerc, alexandrasaintmleux, paularon_, and 837, 948 others

ynleclerc: good time to say I have a crush on him??

Tagged: paularon_

Paularon_ 🩵🩵

arthur_leclerc can't you be normal

ynleclerc Paul wants me despite my quirks

Arthur_leclerc quirks?? girl thats mental illness

alexandreasaintmleux my gorgeous gorgeous bride to be!!

ynleclerc you are the best🫶💋

Charles_leclerc I cried the whole time you guys were gone

ynleclerc awww char 🫶

lorenzotl I love you baby sis

ynleclerc i love you too

comments have been limited

paularon_

Liked by aronralf, annaaron_, ynleclerc, and 823,928 others

Paularon_: my forever date 🩵

Tagged: ynleclerc

ynleclerc forever and always

annaaron_ i cant wait for a sister in law

paularon_ im scared for what you two can will get into

aronralf so proud! Congrats!!

paularon_ thank you!!

charles_leclerc the plan was perfect

arthur_leclerc you really know our sister

paularon_ i'd like to think so

comments have been limited

[lustlovehart]

scara has been the boy of the month for so long now i am just so desperate for sfw scara content id kill for any crumbs

A/n: Wasnt sure if you meant Wanderer or Scaramouche, so I sorta assumed you meant Scaramouche.

Summary: The ballader has quite the habit, and you're curious as to how deep into it he is, so you take it upon yourself to find out.

Warnings: I don’t think there’s anything?

Scaramouche has always had this odd habit of... Staring at you. At the begining you found it quite odd, but as time went on you didn't seem to be bothered too much by it, in fact, it'd be unnerving if he wasn't staring at you for once.

When you're not around for him to look at, his eyes will always fall on to something that reminds him of you, whether it be a book you had an acute interest in, or a mess you had left in his room because you had went out in a hurry. To him, if you're not there by his side, perhaps the next big thing is to cling onto whatever remnants you had left behind for him.

Whenever you walked through the streets of Snezhnaya, you ears can't help but pick up on his subordinates whispers, the cold wind carrying them through to you.

"Are you sure Lord Scaramouche and [Name] aren’t... You know... Seeing eachother...?"

"Whenever they're together, his eyes never leave them! It's like his pupils are physically attached to them!"

"The Lord even has a picture of [Name] in his pocket, though it changes everyday… I can't tell if he switches the photo out or if he just has multiple photos of them on hand..."

“Lord Scaramouche will surely kill us if he hears what we’re saying of him! Quiet down!”

Their discussions make you pause, you’re sure most of them are just exaggerations, but nonetheless you continue with your day, it's not like you could confirm or deny these accusations, considering you yourself dont even know that status between you two.

Though, you are quite curious as to what these photos he has of you are... Perhaps you can find out, a rare harbinger meeting had been issued as of today, so maybe now is your chance.

Your shoes click against his office, the cold from outside still being felt but not too much.

Your fingers slide open the drawer of Scaras desk, while not too neat, it’s not horrendous either. Your eyes immediately catch on to a little picture book, one he had always held on to but has never let you seen through, well almost always, he never trusted bringing any valuables to meetings, lest they be discreetly taken from him by a certain banker.

When opened it seemed to be photos of you, and some trinkets and hobbies you had mentioned to him about enjoying. Coincidentally enough, they were all photos you took awhile back with a kamera you had in possession before it had broken down. Each photo has a tiny date written in the corner, as well as a little descriptions of the events that had happened.

“[Name] and me walking through Snezhnya”

“[Name] looking at flowers”

“A butterfly [Name] took a picture of, it reminds me of them”

They all weren’t too descriptive, but they warmed your heart to see anyway. Your fingers flipped one more time before you were greeted by a photo you didn’t take yourself.

“Everything I want to give [Name]”

In the photo, several items you had expressed a liking towards were in frame, some expensive and others cheaper. This time, the description had been on the back of the film, neat handwriting engraved into the back.

“If I look at them long enough, they’ll be engraved into my memory, and I won’t have to be left with nothing again.”

You’re not too sure on what he meant by it, sometimes he seems to say something cryptic to you and then never explain it ever after that.

The more you think about it, that seemed too short to be something of his that he wrote. You put the photo book back into the drawer, moving your hand to open the next one before the door swings open at an immaculate speed.

“What do you think you’re doing [Name]”

“Uhm… Waiting, for you…?” The expression his face shifts into obviously tells you he doesn’t believe it, but all he can really do is walk towards you and grab your wrist, swiftly pulling you away from his desk. “Where are we going Kuni?” The both of you quickly dash out the door, a loud thud echoing through the halls with how hard the man closed it.

“We’re getting dinner of course, having to meet with those bastards has given me a headache.”

“I don’t have money on me right now…”

“What? I’m paying for you obviously, now hurry up.”

He doesn’t need to tell you about how he knew you were looking at his belongings of you, he just thinks of how lucky he made it before you could find the drawers, filled to the brim with letters he wants to give you, all of them in which, if someone else had laid eyes upon them, would have no doubt every single page is a love letter.

You don’t need to know how weak for you he truly is, and he’d like to keep it that way.

“So, do you really keep photos of me with you all the time-“

“Stop speaking.”

———-

Scara who is super in love with reader but never wants them to know that>>

[hurtblossom]

Back to black cl16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Female!Reader

Summary: She goes back to black

Warning: angst, alcohol, tears, the use of "I"

Amy Winehouse Back to black

Masterlist

The apartment was eerily quiet as I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the packed suitcase by the door. Everything felt surreal, like a nightmare I couldn't wake up from. Charles stood by the window, his back to me, his shoulders tense as if he was holding back everything he wanted to say. Or maybe everything he didn’t.

"It's over, Y/N," he finally said, his voice hollow. "This… we can't keep doing this to each other."

I knew he was right, but that didn’t make it any easier. My heart ached as I fought to keep the tears at bay. “You’re going back to her, aren’t you?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

He didn’t respond right away, but the silence was all the answer I needed. When he finally turned to face me, his eyes were filled with something I couldn’t quite place—regret, maybe. But it didn’t matter anymore.

"We only said goodbye with words, I died a hundred times," I whispered, the lyrics of the song that had been haunting me for days spilling out before I could stop them.

Charles took a step toward me, but I held up my hand, stopping him. "Just go," I said, my voice trembling. “Go back to her.”

And he did. Without another word, he picked up his jacket and walked out of the door, leaving me alone in the darkness. I sat there, frozen, until I heard the sound of his car driving away. Only then did I allow myself to cry, the tears falling freely as I curled up on the bed, clutching the pillow that still smelled like him.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: * :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

Months passed, but the pain didn’t lessen. I moved through life like a ghost, going through the motions but never truly feeling anything. The apartment felt like a tomb, filled with memories of him, of us. I had tried to get rid of them, to pack away the photos, the little trinkets we had collected over the years. But it didn’t help. Everywhere I looked, I saw him.

"I kept my head high, and my tears dry," I whispered to myself one night, sitting on the floor of the living room with a bottle of wine in my hand. The song played softly in the background, echoing my thoughts. But the truth was, I didn’t feel strong. I felt empty, like the part of me that had loved Charles so deeply had been ripped out, leaving nothing but a hollow shell behind.

People told me to move on, to find someone else, but how could I? "You go back to her, and I go back to black," I sang softly, feeling the weight of those words more than ever. Black was all I had now—black nights, black days, a black heart.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: * :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

The first time I saw Charles again after the breakup, it was like being stabbed in the chest. We were at a charity event, and I had been dreading the possibility of running into him, but there he was, across the room, looking as devastatingly handsome as ever. And she was with him. The girl he had left me for. The one he had gone back to.

My heart clenched painfully as I watched them together. They looked… happy. He looked happy. I wanted to tear my eyes away, to leave, but I couldn’t. I was rooted to the spot, my mind replaying every moment we had shared, every promise he had made.

"He left no time to regret, kept his dick wet with his same old safe bet," the lyrics played in my mind, and I had to fight back the urge to scream. I knew it wasn’t fair to think of him that way, but the anger, the pain, it was all-consuming.

He noticed me then, his eyes locking onto mine from across the room. For a brief moment, everything else faded away. It was just us, just Charles and Y/N, as if nothing had changed. But then she touched his arm, and he looked away, a flicker of guilt passing over his face.

I couldn’t stay. I turned on my heel and walked out of the event, the weight of the past dragging me down with every step. I ended up back at my apartment, the only place where I could let the tears fall without judgment. But even then, the emptiness remained, like a gaping hole in my chest.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: * :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

I had tried to move on. I really had. But nothing worked. Not the late nights out with friends, not the meaningless dates, not the distractions I filled my life with. I was still in love with him, still drowning in the sea of what we used to be.

One night, after too many glasses of wine, I did something I promised myself I would never do—I called him. The phone rang once, twice, and then he answered.

“Y/N?” His voice was filled with surprise, maybe even a little concern. It was the first time we had spoken since that night, and hearing his voice again was like a punch to the gut.

"I go back to us," I whispered, not knowing what else to say. The lyrics of the song played in the background, a painful reminder of everything I was trying to escape.

“Y/N, why are you calling?” His tone was cautious, and I hated it. I hated that he felt like he had to walk on eggshells around me.

“I miss you,” I admitted, my voice breaking. “I miss us, Charles. I can’t… I can’t let go.”

There was silence on the other end, and for a moment, I let myself hope. Hope that he would say he missed me too, that he was wrong to leave, that we could try again. But when he finally spoke, his voice was gentle, but firm.

“Y/N, I’m with her now. You need to let go.”

And just like that, the hope shattered, leaving me with nothing but the cold, hard truth. He wasn’t coming back. He had moved on, and I was still stuck in the past.

“I know,” I whispered, tears streaming down my face. “I just… I just needed to hear it.”

“Take care, Y/N,” he said softly, and then the line went dead.

I dropped the phone, my body shaking with sobs as I curled up on the couch. "We only said goodbye with words, I died a hundred times," I repeated, the words a bitter comfort.

Charles was gone. He had made his choice, and it wasn’t me. And now, all I had left was the darkness, the endless black that had become my life. I didn’t know how to move forward, how to find the light again. All I knew was that I was still in love with him, and that love was destroying me.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: * :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

The holidays came and went, but they felt meaningless. I went through the motions, smiled when I was supposed to, but inside, I was still lost. My friends and family noticed the change in me, the way I had retreated into myself, but they didn’t know how to help. How could they, when I didn’t even know how to help myself?

Charles and Alexandra were everywhere—on social media, in the news, at events. Every time I saw a picture of them together, it was like another piece of my heart was ripped away. They were happy, and I was still drowning.

I tried to find solace in the things that used to bring me joy, but nothing worked. The world felt colorless, empty. I was stuck in a loop, going back to the memories of us, back to the pain, back to the black.

"He left no time to regret," I sang softly to myself one night, sitting by the window with a glass of wine in hand. "We only said goodbye with words, I died a hundred times."

And that was the truth. I had died a hundred times since Charles left, and every time I tried to pick up the pieces, they slipped through my fingers, leaving me more broken than before.

As the year came to a close, I realized that I had to find a way to move on, to let go of the love that was tearing me apart. But how could I, when every fiber of my being still belonged to him?

"I go back to black," I whispered into the darkness, the words hanging heavy in the air. I didn’t know how to move forward, but I knew one thing—I couldn’t keep going back to him. Not anymore.

So I stood up, walked to the mirror, and stared at the reflection of the woman I had become—hollow, broken, but still standing. And in that moment, I made a promise to myself. I would find a way to heal, to move on, even if it meant starting from scratch. Even if it meant walking away from the only love I had ever known.

Because I deserved more than the blackness that had consumed me. I deserved a life filled with color, with light, with love—love that wasn’t tied to the past, but to the future.

And maybe, just maybe, one day I would find that love. But until then, I would keep moving forward, one step at a time, until the black was nothing more than a distant memory.

lando's version

let me know if i should do a second part xx

[five-miles-over]

Imagine waking up in an alternate reality where you and Loki are a newlywed couple living in the suburbs

This isn't my bed.

You opened your eyes, finding yourself nestled in pine green sheets of sateen. How did I even get here? As soon as you sat up, your eyes darted about the room.

Large and luxurious seemed to describe the queen-sized bed you were sitting in. The bedroom had off-white painted walls, a large ebony dresser with a mirror that perfectly captured your reflection, and a three-paned window offering a view of an idyllic suburban neighborhood.

From there, you could see a clean yard with rose bushes and yellow dandelions, all behind a white picket fence. There was a walkway, leading up to what could only be assumed to be the front door. And there was even a little mailbox with a green flag.

You blinked in disbelief at the sight, and decided to turn your attention to the rest of the bedroom. The next thing that caught your eye was the nightstand, which was ebony to match the dresser. Maybe it was part of a set.

On the nightstand was a set of silk ribbons, a wristwatch, and a framed photo. You picked up the frame and saw yourself in a wedding gown, smiling while being hugged by a tall man with dark curls that framed his long, pale face. His eyes crinkled at the corner as he grinned, looking at the camera as if this were the happiest moment of his life. The two of you seemed so perfect together, maybe even in love. The photo was in black and white, so you couldn't say much about the color of his eyes. However, it was obvious that he was wearing a black suit with a lily boutonniere. Classy.

"Morning, darling!"

You looked up to see the same man from the photo, except his curls were dripping and he wore a fluffy, black bathrobe. It didn't take long for you to notice his striking cheekbones, and the besotted look in his eyes that almost resembled the way he looked in the photo. But in all fairness, the camera did not do his beauty complete justice.

He came closer to you and gently planted his lips on yours. He tasted of mint, and his skin smelled like rain. You slowly reciprocated the kiss, putting your fingers on his cheek.

"Were you taking a trip down memory lane?" The man fondly asked, glancing at the photo. "I still can't believe that was only two months ago. Can you?"

You shook your head.

He hugged you from behind and kissed the top of your hair. "I'll finish getting dressed, and then meet you in the kitchen for breakfast."

You climbed out of bed, oblivious to a ring on your left hand. "Where...where are you going,...darling?" You swallowed.

"To work," he chuckles. "Can't be starting a Nexus Event at my own workplace." The man examines himself in the dresser's mirror. Then, he opens a drawer, retrieves a small pot of facial moisturizer, and dabs it on his forehead, rubbing it in circles. "You know the TVA, darling."

"The...Time Variance Authority," you mumbled, watching his reflection. "I should...I should go."

You hurried out of the bedroom, down a long hallway filled with pieces of generic artwork, and into a kitchen.

"What do you think of having pancakes this morning?" The man could be heard asking while you entered what seemed to be the kitchen kitchen.

As if the place were taken straight from the 1950s, everything - the oven, the fridge, the cabinets, and even the wallpaper - was completely pastel green, a shade of seafoam. Why is there so much green in this house?, you asked yourself.

Maybe it was because you watched too many sitcoms, or had seen too many vintage photos, but the first thing you did was put on an apron that had been laying around. And then, you opened the fridge, which was fully stocked with everything: a full carton of milk, a dozen eggs, various vegetables, some cuts of meat wrapped in butcher paper, and cheddar cheese.

Pancakes, you thought to yourself, taking the eggs and milk out of the fridge. Thankfully, there was an unopened box of pancake mix on one of the kitchen countertops. Yes it was strange, cooking breakfast for a man whose name you didn't even know, but he'd been so sweet to you. And maybe if you were on his good side, you could actually get some answers about who he was. "Hm..." A few moments later, while you were mixing the pancake batter in a large bowl, you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist. "I just can't get enough of you." The man's dulcet voice tickled your ears.

You laughed politely as he kissed your cheek. When you looked over your shoulder, you noticed he was wearing a white button-down shirt , a dark tie, and brown dress pants that showed off his perfectly-tight ass. For a moment, it made you blush. Apparently, the man noticed...and promptly winked in your direction.

As you heated the pan and greased it with butter, you could hear the man pouring himself a cup of coffee or tea, and then opening a newspaper.

"I'm cancelling drinks with Mobius tonight," the man casually said. "Coming straight home after work."

Not knowing at all who he could be referring to, you scooped the batter into the pan and watched it sizzle. "Why?"

He flipped a page of the newspaper. "Because he's making me watch another set of boring trading videos today. It's tedious, honestly." The man smiles when the scent of warm pancakes reaches his nose. "What I wouldn't give to be back on our honeymoon."

"Me too," you lied, placing the golden-brown pancakes onto a plate.

The man set the news paper aside and walked up to you, stroking your hair. "Maybe, tonight...we could even finish what we started on our honeymoon."

"Oh?" You found yourself smiling while you flipped two pancakes.

He whispered, "We could continue trying for a baby."

Don't burn the pancakes. Do NOT burn the pancakes. Blinking, you placed the two new ones with the rest of them on a plate, trying not to let your hand tense around the spatula. "A baby..." You put the plate of pancakes on the dining table, gently pushing aside the newspaper.

Next to the paper was a laminated id badge. It read, 'Time Variance Authority, Name: Loki Laufeyson, Role: Variant, ID: L1130'. You swallowed. struggling to look away from the badge as you tried to understand who the man really was. "Loki?"

"Those smell amazing, darling." Loki sat down and drizzled syrup on the pancakes. Then, procuring a bottle out of thin air, he sprayed a large peak of whipped cream on top.

You handed him a fork and knife, watching him begin to eat.

"Mm!" He moaned, closing his eyes for a moment. "This is delicious! Mm, I knew I married the right woman."

"Married?"

Loki chuckled before feeding you a forkful of pancake, syrup and whipped cream. "I love you more every day, Mrs. Laufeyson."

You gave him a gentle smile while chewing. "I...I love you more, Mr. Laufeyson." You made two pancakes for yourself, turned off the stove, and ate them while sitting across the table from Loki. How could it be possible that you were married to the God of Mischief, the younger prince of Asgard, the frost giant?

While eating, you glanced at your left hand, surprised by the sight of an elegant emerald ring with a gold band placed on your middle finger. But before you could ask Loki about any of this, the God of mischief put his now-empty plate in the sink. "I'd best be off now." He put his arm around your shoulder and pecked you on the lips. "Ah, parting is such sweet sorrow."

Loki walked towards the door with a brown jacket and a briefcase. "Wait! Loki!" You followed him out of the kitchen. "You forgot your badge."

Loki smiled, tapping the left side of his chest. "Pin it here, darling." He watched you with nothing but pure, unadulterated affection. "What would I do without you?" When you'd gotten the badge on his shirt, Loki gave you one last kiss. "No matter what happens," he softly said your name, "never doubt that I love you. I'll see you tonight, darling."

Taglist: @lokischambermaid @lokiismineforever @lokidbadguy @lokisgoodgirl @lokisprettygirl22 @smolvenger @holdmytesseract @wheredafandomat @wolfsmom1 @lovelysizzlingbluebird @evelyn-kingsley @muddyorbsblr @stupidthoughtsinwriting @icytrickster17 @thatdummy-girl @fantasyfan4life @huntress-artemiss @itsdoni @gruftiela @ellooo0ooo @ireallyneedtherapy @jennyggggrrr @anukulee @turniptitaness

[lets-try-some-writing]

I woke up and chose angsty violence on everyone.

What if Optimus survived the events of Predacon Rising? Sometime after everyone left, he crawled up from the Well but was no longer the same person he was. Housing the Allspark inside himself had destroyed his mind than just the Matrix of Leadership and what's left is a very feral bot that looks like Optimus.

No one finds out until reports from refugees come in about a strange Cybertronian running amuck in the wastes that attacks anyone who gets too close. Optimus' former team would absolutely be split on what to do about him. Leave him alone in nature under protection, try to snap him out of it or put their once leader down?

They can't ignore the problem as someone will recognize Optimus at some point.

You. You my good individual are evil. I adore your twisted little mind (affectionate).

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

There were... reports. Quite a few of them in fact.

Each and every one of them claimed that there was a feral mech living out in the wastes, the land that was formerly Iacon's great forest before the war razed it to the ground. No one knew what to think of it, but then they saw the pictures. And those pictures changed everything.

"Ratchet, he can't seriously still be alive? Can he?" Bumblebee's voice was filled with disbelief as Ratchet looked over the image projected on the holodisk. The rest of the table seemed to share Bumblebee's thoughts as they watched. It was a quick series of pictures put on a slideshow. They were grainy, but the blue and red was unmistakable. The exposed Matrix even more so.

"It seems that we were wrong to label Prime as out for the count." Bulkhead added his two shanix, earning him a murmur of agreement from an equally uncertain Wheeljack.

"If he's feral, do you think we can bring back?" Arcee spoke up as well, earning a series of comments from the team. Bumblebee seemed hopeful, as did Smokescreen. Even Ultra Magnus seemed marginally interested in a potential plan to help Optimus if he really was out there.

Ratchet was not so optimistic.

"I will go and assess the situation personally. For all we know, it might not be him. We can't get our hopes up." Standing up, Ratchet collected the holodisk with a purposefully blank expression. The team regarded him with various expression of surprise, but they didn't stop him.

Good. They didn't need to see what was going to come next.

"Ratchet, if it is him, you'll let us know." Ultra Magnus put a servo on his shoulder, a knowing expression plastered all over the Commander's face. Ratchet gave no confirmation, instead tightening his grip on the holodisk as he made his way out.

Ratchet couldn't explain it, but when he saw the photo, he couldn't help the feeling of wrongness that filled his very spark. The team wouldn't understand. They hadn't known Orion. All they saw was their Prime's face. They didn't see the vacancy in his optics or the way he hunched in the picture like he was struggling just to stand. The mech they once knew was not himself. He was hardly alive.

Ratchet refused to let his friend's legacy be destroyed by a cruel twist of fate.

"I'm sorry." He murmured into the early morning light as he gathered his things quietly, taking great care with his most important tool as he began the trip out into the wastes. It was not a long trip, not terribly so at any rate. A few joors into his journey, he found himself wandering the wastes in silence, his optics set on any crevice where the husk of his friend could have possibly been hiding. He didn't bother calling out. It was a useless endeavor.

One joor. Two joors. And then, he found what he was looking for.

"Hello, Orion. Its been a while, hasn't it?" A lanky figure pulled itself out of a small cave. Cycled down optics met his, curiosity registering somewhere in their empty stare. Ratchet didn't dare move as the husk pulled itself out of its hiding place, its helm tilted ever so slightly in confusion, or perhaps interest.

"I had hoped that you'd made it out alright. But I don't think that's the case." His words were faint as the husk finally stood. It was thin, gangly from what was likely months of less than sufficient energon. Its armor was cracked and broken, the jetpack that Optimus had once enjoyed now all but ripped off. The husk's face was covered in gashes and marks, the rest of its frame not much better. It looked... pitiful. But above all else, the shining Matrix in its chassis made Ratchet frown.

"No normal mech should be able to survive these wounds." He practically whispered as he took a step forward, holding out a servo in a friendly manner. The husk froze, almost looking ready to scuttle back into its hiding place. But Ratchet remained firm, standing still and speaking quietly.

"That thing... it won't let you die, will it?" He received no verbal answer, but the glowing white of the husk's optics told him everything he needed to know.

White was the color of divinity, but also of sickness. A mech with white optics was said to be doomed to die. Ratchet was not normally a mech to care about superstitions. But that one... he could get behind.

"It must hurt." He couldn't disguise the faint shakiness of his voice as the husk finally inched closer, looming over Ratchet with height that had once been comforting. The husk's optics cycled down and then went wide. A wide and almost sparkling like smile spread across its face as it dropped to all fours, crawling nearer on just about Ratchet's level.

It hesitated a moment, and then pressed its face up against Ratchet's servo like a hound would. Ratchet almost winced, but seeing the husk's genuine affection, he couldn't bring himself to do anything more than sigh and run his free servo along the crest of its helm. So similar to his Prime, and yet so very different.

"The others want to bring you home. They want to fix you." The husk's engine rumbled in delight, pleased as Ratchet caressed broken finials with light touches. The husk looked so very happy as it came closer, seating itself at Ratchet's pedes to lean into every place his digits touched. So unlike Optimus. This thing was a mere echo, a sad and painful echo.

"I don't think you want to be fixed, if that is even possible." His venting hitched as he cupped the husk's face, sensing the animalistic instinct in it. The husk didn't fight back as Ratchet pressed the crest of his helm to the husk's, enjoying the momentary interaction.

"I wanted to hope... I wanted to think that maybe you'd evaded death yet again." He could feel coolant threatening to gather in his optics as he quietly reached to his satchel, pulling out an injector. The yellow liquid within glowed faintly in the dying light of the evening, but Ratchet paid it little mind as he memorized the faint sounds of the husk's engine and the giddy smile upon its face. It hadn't even noticed Ratchet's tool.

"I prayed for your return. But I think that may have been a mistake." Blazing white optics gazed up at him, innocent and yet vacant. It hurt more than it should have.

Why? Why did it have to look so alive and yet so dead?

"Perhaps it would have been kinder if death had finally taken you." Pressing a kiss to the husk's helm crest, Ratchet enjoyed the warmth of a living, venting mech for a moment longer. His spark spun in agony, but now was not the time to stop. This... this was a mercy.

"Rest Orion. Return to Codexa, to Alpha Trion. Go to those who love you... and know that one cycle I will join you there." In one swift motion, Ratchet dug the injector into the husk's neck. Its optics blew wide, its vocalizer spitting static as it stared up at him in sheer terror.

"Shh... it's alright. It will be over soon." The husk went limp, falling into Ratchet's arms. He knelt quietly, letting it rest against his chassis as its frame began to seize. The Matrix flared, sending shocks through the husk to try and keep it active. The husk wailed in response, its shattered vocalizer producing pained cries that could have caused the dead to quake. Ratchet held firm, keeping the husk held against him as the Matrix's shocks ran their course, eventually ceasing.

"I'll tell the others you were dead upon my arrival. Don't worry. They won't see you like this... I promise." The husk spasmed a moment longer, its optics momentarily returning to a bright and healthy blue. For a half klik, Ratchet could have sworn he saw understanding in those optics.

And gratitude.

"I'm sorry, Old Friend." The term of endearment slipped past his derma before he could stop it. In response, Optimus smiled and then fell still, his optics going dark and his frame losing all life.

Ratchet held what remained of his oldest friend for a long while, not speaking or moving.

It was done.

Now Optimus could rest.

[ghostofhyuck]

NCT Dream and how they take photos of you. 

AN: I saw this trend on tiktok on how would NCT Dream take photo of someone and honestly, it looks so cute! (and yes, I am using female idols as photo references.) 

Mark Lee

I think that Mark LOVESSSS taking stolen photos of your achievements. He's such a supportive boyfriend so he will be there to take photos whenever you receive awards or maybe you won something. Or maybe it's a huge gig or anything that's a milestone for you, he'll be there taking photos to document and of course to flex it to his socials that he's so so proud of his girlfriend <3

Huang Renjun

Renjun loves taking photos of you especially when you two are on a dinner date! No matter how many times you two went out to have a dinner date, he doesn't get tired of taking photos of you because first of all, you're all dressed up! he doesn't want it all go down to waste, and second, he just wants to show everyone his view, which is you at your favorite local restaurant in the city <3

Lee Jeno

Okay, but Jeno's the type to take photos if you ask him. He's not that bad at all, but your photos will really come out like something your boyfriend took. He's the type that once you gave him your phone, he'll just spams the camera button nonstop while you just continue to pose until you did all the pose and both of you are tired. There's a thousand photos and the decent ones are probably ten or maybe twenty at best lol. 

Lee Donghyuck

Of course! Haechan would be that boyfriend who has a lot of silly photos of you. Something meme-worthy and blackmail material that you just can't believe that your boyfriend took that photo! It just happens that Haechan always have his camera on whenever disaster strikes you lmao. But don't worry, Haechan still finds those photos endearing and cute to be fair. He just loves teasing you. 

Na Jaemin

Jaemin takes photo of you as if you're the most beautiful girl ever. He tends to focus on your face, portrait and just wanted to capture your beauty. From what I observed on his narcissism exhibit, he does love taking portraits of his members, so im sure he also does that to his girlfriend. Probably has tons of your portrait from different time, place, and event too! <3

Zhong Chenle

I find Chenle's photos silly and sometimes out of context lol, so I'm convinced that's how he would take photos of his girlfriend BUT it still leans on the wholesome side. He takes silly photos just like Haechan BUT he lets you pose. It'll end up cute and wholesome, not much of the silly side but hey, he loves it. You look cute and you go with the flow that's why you two match each other. 

Park Jisung

I feel like Jisung takes picture in a very gen-z coded way. You know those, late-night blurry pictures with flash. Yeah that's how he takes photos of you, and it's scripted! He'll give you a signal on to when to move, so that he can capture the blurry effect and he's reallly great at taking photos of it! Proud boyfriend too because his photos came out aesthetically pleasing. (and also, his muse is pretty that's why.)