#fingers in another person's pies

[jevilowo]

Maybe in Baby Is You, Toby Fox's infamous mpreg homestuck rock opera that I quote to myself on a nigh daily basis (which such lines as "too bad ash ketchum im gary motherfucking oak and im hungry for babies so get shovelling", how could i not really) t4t davejade real and the reason she doesn't show up is she is the father

[k-hotchoisan]

backseat serenade

<mingi x fem!reader>

Getting stuck in the backseat of your friend’s car after a night out with your drunk friends wasn’t how you thought of ending the night, especially not on Mingi’s lap.

Genre/warnings: smut, pwp, forced proximity, technically exhibitionism but not because no one ends up noticing, fingering, light choking and wrist pining, riding, cream pies, orgasms, something is going on in the backseat…, furcoat mingi

word count: 3.3K (what the fucK)

a/n: y'all be eating fucking good fr. Also shout out to my loml @bro-atz for helping out with the plot a little <3 shout out to mingi brain rot!

taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie  @pre1ttyies @hwallazia @songmingisthighs @yeosangiess  @woojirang @mylovelymito @softwsan @yourlocaljonghoe @itza-meee @jeon-ify @itza-meee @miss-fallon @hwallazia @bunnyluvr25 @eggyboy5 @hourswithoutyou @iwishiwasthemoontonight @yunhogrippers @watermelon2319 @vampiregirl215 @kibs-and-bits @s-h-y-a @liyahbug05-blog @luvt0kki @httpseungmxn  @voicesinmyhead-rc @woojirang @wlv-asteria @jjoongstar @comicnerd557 or @kpopwrites @vic0921

networks: @atzhouse @cultofdionysusnet @cromernet

“Who else is here?” You ask. 

She shrugs. “My boyfriend and a couple of his friends. You know them.” Well, you’ve definitely met a couple of your friend’s boyfriend’s friends before. Your eyes scan the crowd and sure enough, you spot familiar faces. 

And then your eyes rest on a particular male—his hair dyed platinum and slicked back, already drawing attention because of his height alongside his fur coat that hung over his shoulders. You never thought someone could pull off a fur coat that well actually. A pair of glasses sits on his nose bridge, which seems to somehow accentuate how sharp his eyes are. He’s been on your radar since he appeared on a mutual friend’s Instagram. 

“He’s pretty cute isn’t he?”, your friend’s date pushes, lightly bumping his arm against yours. 

You cast him a glance. “Just surprised that there are people who still wear fur coats in this economy.”

“That’s-“

“Song Mingi”, you reply, not taking notice of your friend’s boyfriend’s surprised expression. 

“You know him?”

“Came across him”, you reply a little too quickly. You sure as hell were not about to spill the truth. 

He definitely looks and is intimidating for sure, especially when he opens his mouth to speak, his voice so low that it tickles your ears. You could hear him talk forever, you think. You could imagine how he moans in your ears.

You blink. The fuck?

And so, for the past hour or so, you’ve been stealing glances at the blond male, but unfortunately, there was only so much staring could do, and it was not helping you get the male’s attention. Sure, the both of you actually followed each other (you were surprised when he followed you back), and the way he liked your stories sometimes made your stomach grow butterflies, but you never actually interacted with him in real life. 

It wasn’t until the party was slowing down, when you came back from being distracted by another friend, was when you realise Mingi was gone. A ping of disappointment fills you up, but it’s not as horrendous as the feeling of regret—for not just going up to talk to him. You wonder when you’ll see him again.

You decide to find your friend and call it a night.

“Do you wanna hitch a ride with us?”, your friend asks, uselessly trying to balance herself, her partner holding onto her waist. 

“The driver didn’t drink, I promise”, your friend’s partner assures. 

You open the car door and your eyes widen when you spot Mingi. 

You whip your head to your friend to ask her sincewhen Mingi came with the friend group but you realise you wouldn’t be getting any concrete answers from a tipsy person. 

You glance back at the male donned in the maroon fur coat, who seems rather surprised when he sees that you were the one who opened the car door. 

But Mingi’s expression remains indifferent—god knows what he’s thinking about but you swore you saw a tint of something in his eyes when your friends told you to just sit on his lap because “the car had no space”. 

“Hi, y/n”, Mingi’s deep voice calling your name is kept in a bottle and stored at the back of your head. 

“Hey Mingi”, you greet back, cautiously approaching him. 

“Are you okay with this?” You ask, testing the waters by putting your weight on his left thigh. 

“It’s fine. I’m just worried that it’s gonna be uncomfortable for you since it’s gonna take a while to reach your place right?”

Right. You nod in defeat. 

Your body jolts slightly when you feel Mingi’s touch burn against your skin—especially your thighs. 

His friend on the passenger seat has the aux cord and he’s picked out a song to blast in the speakers. You feel goosebumps bloom across the nape of your neck when Mingi’s voice hits your ear from behind. 

“Sorry, you might need to move in a little more, Princess. We have three more squeezing with us at the back.”

You blink, processing the information before internally thanking the universe that the car is dark so the red flushing against your cheeks gets hidden. 

Soon you find yourself fully on Mingi’s lap, and although you try not to lean too much against him, you realise the position feels awkward, and when Mingi personally shifts you with his hands instead, you decide to stay put. 

The energy in the car is high, even after all that partying, which you easily deduce to be due to the alcohol. Unfortunately, you couldn’t be singing along at the top of your lungs, not when you’re subconsciously aware that Mingi is just behind you. 

Sitting on someone’s lap was definitely not as comfortable as sitting on a car seat, and that was a given, so you find yourself shifting constantly, not realising Mingi closing his fists every time your ass shifts against him, particularly his crotch. 

Suddenly you feel the weight below you shift. Mingi’s arm wraps around your waist, his weight pressing against you. You stay put the moment you feel his lips barely inches away from the shell of your ear. 

“I strongly suggest you try to stay still, y/n, or it’ll become a problem for the both of us.” 

You turn your head slightly, barely enough to capture him within your peripherals. At first, you wonder if you’re starting to annoy him, but when you feel his hands slide down to your thighs and something hard pressing against your ass, you get your answer. 

And you wonder how far you should take this. 

Your face is heating up, at the idea you’re just sitting on Mingi’s thick erection, separated by the fabric of his pants and the ridiculously thin fabric of your body con dress. You wonder about his size, which only gets more vivid since you’re literally sitting right on his fucking cock—how thick he would be, how much he would stretch you open, and it’s making you slowly drench your panties. 

The more his erection is blatantly pressing against you, the more you can’t help but fidget on his lap. You’re wondering why Mingi hasn’t said anything, you wonder if he even felt it at all. The moment that thought forms in your brain, you pick out what sounded like low groans from behind you. Then you feel Mingi’s fingers press against your bare thighs, just this fucking close to lifting your dress. 

Mingi shifts against you, his hard cock now even more prominent against your ass—directly below your pussy if it wasn’t for the fact that there were layers of annoying fabric keeping them apart. 

His deep voice is like a melody in your ear,  “I’m closing an eye if you’re just doing this on accident, but there’s only so much more grinding I can take princess.”

You glance over to the company seated just right beside you—they are still singing their hearts out thanks to the self-assigned DJ of the car. The music was still blasting, and you realise you and Mingi are slowly forming another world—one growing of hot and heavy air. 

You’re trying to weigh your options and risks, but the constant friction of Mingi’s cock just poking you through his pants mixed with the light buzz from the alcohol earlier is keeping you less than logical. 

You lean back, the back of your head resting on his shoulder, feeling the thick coat tickle your cheeks, taking in the scent of his cologne that you swear only he could pull off, the boldness rushing into your veins like adrenaline.

“And if I said it wasn’t an accident?”

You don’t know what he might do next, but it’s making your legs tremble by the second. Your clit is fucking throbbing from the sheer anticipation. 

Mingi’s eyes dart to glance at you while his head remains positioned straight, before he presses himself onto you with a smirk against your ears, “Right. Glad we cleared that up, princess.” 

His hands press on the sides of your throat, two fingers tipping your jaw to turn your head to face him as he clashes his lips against yours, and you’re ready for him to just take whatever the fuck you have left. You’re doing your best to muffle your moans through the kisses, but as every second passes, you’re ready to give into it—mostly scream his fucking name into the night at this point. 

Your eyes are so glazed out, your pussy throbbing and drenched, your mind so sexually frustrated the more Mingi keeps you waiting. Mingi’s fingers trail along your bare thighs, his legs forcing yours to stay open, easily letting the gather of your dress push upwards, while his fingers push your panties to the side. You hear him mutter fuck when your wet cunt drenches his fingers. He barely drags his fingers over your clit, yet you already feel like you’re about to burst. 

“Are you gonna be a good girl and stay quiet for me?” Mingi asks, sinking his gaze into yours. You swallow hard and nod, so fucking entranced by his sharp eyes behind the glasses, and alongside the fact that his fingers are rubbing circles on your clit. 

“Fuck me. You’re so fucking wet for me”, he hisses, eating up your moans as he fits his thick fingers into your pussy, filling you up instantly. Oh god. You feel your mind completely blank out at the sensation of Song Mingi stretching you out. 

You swear that the wet sounds of Mingi’s fingers fucking your sopping cunt were louder than the music, but for some reason, and thank fuck, no one else seemed to notice. Yet. 

His other hand clasps over your mouth as he watches your eyes roll back, your desperate and satisfied moans muffled every time his thumb presses against your clit while his fingers fill you up again and again. 

You shouldn’t have agreed to stay quiet. 

Mingi’s legs are strong as fuck because his knees keep your legs from snapping shut as you let the feeling build in your stomach. Your hips are involuntarily bucking against his fingers, craving for him to fuck his fingers deeper. Shit. You can’t seem to get enough. He releases his hand off your mouth for a while, letting it wander to your tits, rolling your nipples over your dress with his fingers, listening to you pant and whimper.  

“Can’t wait to fuck your tight cunt once we get off”, he mutters into your ear, increasing his pressure on your clit. 

“Please… fuck! Mingi…” you trail, not even sure what you’re begging for at this point. But the knot tightens hard and taut. You’re about to snap anytime soon. 

“Cum on my fingers for me, y/n. Show me how your cunt is gonna feel like when my cock is gonna stuff you full.”

His hand goes back to clamping over your mouth to muffle your cries while your orgasm rips through your body. Your eyes roll back, and your back arched against his abdomen, the pleasure spreading through every nerve while he’s still fucking you with his fingers, enjoying the way you’re completely undone because of him. Your cunt can’t seem to stop spasming and it’s only from his fucking fingers. 

But it slowly wears off, and he releases his hand from your mouth, letting you catch your breath. 

His fingers slowly leave your spent and creamy cunt, and for a split second, you’re almost disappointed. You turn your head, watching Mingi slide his stained fingers past his lips, licking them clean, and his eyes locked onto you. 

“You taste so fucking good, Princess”, he whispers, before his hands are on your throat again, pulling you in for a wet kiss, and you taste yourself on his tongue, your face heating up at his words once more. 

The split second you pull away from him is when the music stops, and you hear your name being called.

“Y/n!”

Your eyes widen, and Mingi lowers his knees, letting you quickly shut your legs, letting his arm rest close to your legs, blocked by his fur coat. Thank fuck you’re in the dark. 

“This is your stop right?” Your friend asks before she turns on the interior car lights. You glance at the apartment building and sure enough, it is your apartment building. 

“Right”, you manage to answer with a forced smile. 

And as you are about to leave the car, Mingi suddenly announces, “I’ll send her up. Don’t wait for me.” He takes off his fur coat, draping it over your shoulders, quickly turning away as he pushes the car door open, ignoring the suggestive looks his group of friends were giving him before curtly saying his goodbyes and shutting the car door. 

Mingi is pretty much gentle with you as the both of you head up to your apartment, asking if you’re feeling cold, even though he’s only in a black tank top. You can’t help but gawk at how he looks even under shitty elevator lights—still so fucking hot. His fingers haven’t let go of yours yet since the both of you left the car, and he sure isn’t letting you go when the both of you reach to the door of your apartment. 

You feel so ridiculous in this oversized fur coat, but the fact that Mingi’s smell is just all over it makes you turn a blind eye to it. 

You unlock the door, pushing it open, the post nut clarity hitting, but the realisation of Mingi in a private space with you sending you mind into the gutter. 

And suddenly you feel your cunt throb again. Fuckin hell. 

“Cute place you have there”, he comments, slipping his shoes off. 

“I try to make the most out of it”, you return, taking off the fur coat, handing it back to him. 

Mingi pauses, staying near the door.

“I got no clue why I left the car like that, y/n. If you want me to leave, I can just call a cab and-“ 

His mouth runs, watching the way you’re walking towards him, and his lips snap shut when you pull him in for an open mouth kiss, his thoughts completely disappearing like they never existed. 

“Finish what you started, Minki”, you whisper when you pull away. 

For once, you like the way red looks on his pretty face, the red that disappears when he catches on, eye fucking you while thinking how fucking hot you look under normal apartment lights than the dim lights. 

His hands cup the back of your neck before his fingers are on your scalp, tugging your hair to face him, letting his lips collide with yours. You taste him so much more intensely now, and fuck does he taste like heaven. 

You feel his hands leave your head, going for your wrists instead, and he backs you up against the wall, deciding to pin your fucking wrists against the wall while stealing all of the oxygen you have left in between pants. 

His fingers trail down so lightly across your skin, you feel like you’re about to combust. 

“Is the couch fine for you?” He asks. You nod, just internally begging him to do anything to you. 

His hands slip down to your thighs, carrying you up in his arms, kissing and sucking against the skin of your neck while he navigates through your apartment. When he does find the couch (rather quickly), he lets you fall onto it, watching the way your dress rides up higher to your hips, your soaked panties coming into view, and his cock growing hard once more. 

“You know, you’re honestly killing me with that dress”, Mingi comments, his fingers tugging off your drenched panties, almost salivating over your glistening cunt. “Had to hold back from just pulling you out and fucking you.”

Oh, fucking gods. 

“That’s why we’re here now, aren’t we?” You tease, watching his satisfied grin grow bigger. 

You can’t wait for him to fuck your brains out. 

Mingi squats, letting his face press against your bare cunt, giving licks up, his tongue pressing against your clit while holding your legs apart. He thinks your whimpers and begs are like a fucking symphony—and he could listen to them over and over again while he breaks you, over and over again. 

It doesn’t last long, unfortunately, because he feels like he’s about to burst the longer he waits, his cock bulging against the fabric of his pants. 

So Mingi unbuckles his pants, pushing them down along with his underwear, his thick and long cock springs from his apparel, wet and decorated in thick precum. He gives himself quick strokes, amused by the way your face is turning a soft shade of pink. 

His thick fingers once again hold your wrists above you, lining his cock up to your pretty hole and pushing himself in, his girth taking up all space instantly. You see stars splatter beneath your eyelids as his cock stretches you out—thick and heavy. 

“Fuck. Song Mingi-“ you cry out, struggling against his grasp. 

“So fuckin tight, princess. Fuck, you feel so fucking good”, he sighs, letting himself bottom out in you, relishing in the way your face completely contorts into pleasure when he’s fully seated in you. 

And when he starts fucking you, your eyes roll back—the feeling of his cock pumping in and out of you switching off most of your senses. 

You sense his arms pining your wrists are growing tired, so you do your best to tap his arm, and Mingi lets go, watching you slide his wrist down to your throat. 

You sure know how to push his buttons. 

He applies pressure and it hits all the perfect spots. A choked moan escapes you while he fucks you dumb. 

“I’d love to choke you more, princess, but I really need you to ride me right now”, Mingi whispers, his fingers leaving your throat, and he pulls his cock out. 

You climb onto his lap, lining his cock before you push yourself down, his fullness knocking the wind out of you once more. 

“Are you gonna take all of my cum like a good girl?” He hums, wiping away the tears from your eyes. You nod weakly, biting your lip. 

“That’s my good girl”, he compliments, and it makes your heart fucking soar. Mingi bounces you on his cock, groaning at the way you’re squeezing around him. “Fuck, squeeze me just like that. God, your pussy feels so fucking amazing, princess.”

“Mingi, I’m so close. Oh fuck I’m gonna-“

Mingi only holds your thighs down, watching you shake, feeling your cunt just clenching down and flutter on his cock, cream seeping down his shaft, and he groans in your ear, keeping himself deep in your pussy, his thick cum flooding into your tight cunt, listening to you curse while he forces you to ride out your high. 

“So fucking good. Mingi…” you mutter through tears and hiccup, letting Mingi kiss your tears before he slowly pulls his wet cock out of you, satisfied at the way his cum slowly trickles out of you while you catch your breath. 

Mingi waits for your mind to slowly clear, and you climb off him, but your fingers stay interlocked with his. 

“We can wash up and order food if you want”, you say, trying to avoid the fact that you’re still flushing slightly considering Song Mingi made a wreck out of you. 

But he pulls you along with him. 

“An invitation to shower together? I’ll gladly fuckin take it, princess.”

[diejager]

For the monster 141 + kortac, what if laswell sends over a new recruit and the new recruit is a wraith like ghost? How would they react?

Cw: death?, weird monster stuff, Ghost being surprisingly emphatic, sharing traum?, tell me if I missed any.

His mind fogged with the same death-inducing miasma he created, the haze heavy and blinding from where he stood, far enough to catch a whiff, and close enough to see the subtle billow of black. Ghost felt his hackles raised - not at you, who’d recently joined them, but at himself - deep-seated anger and annoyance that showed with the small twitch of his fingers and the tenseness of his shoulders. The bliss ignorance of his teammates only reinforced his irritation, watching them flock to you the way they did with every new - permanent or not - coworker, warm and welcoming, whereas he stood at a distance, lingering and observing.

He had never been one to openly welcome someone he knew nothing of, preferring to keep his distance until he knew whether or not they could be trusted, but there was something intrinsic to you. The way you reeked of death seemed to pull him in, the call of someone who’d suffered the same way he did: faced with death but too stubborn to give in. The sudden flash of black in your eyes told him all he needed, a silent call to him, connecting with his pain and sorrows. You seemed to… comfort him even as you smiled at Price, flashing Ghost a warm light from your understanding eyes.

Empathy. That’s what he felt. Empathetic that one had to go through what he did. It made him step forward, one step at a time until he found himself standing beside Alejandro, waiting until you openly turned to face him to greet you.

“Ghost,” he uttered lowly, much to the surprise of others, used to his estranged character. 

And you met him halfway, face strong and proud of how far you’d come - he assumed - fearlessly grasping at his palm with your own gloved hands. You’d also taken to keep everything covered, from head to toe with a weighted hood shadowing half of your face and thick gloves under your jacket. You knew that keeping it hidden worked to protect both you and the people around you.

“Hunter. It’s a pleasure to meet another.”

Perhaps it was even sadder that you were a medic. Such an ironic fate for someone who vowed to heal and protect.

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mul-pi @danielle143 @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @randominstake @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @haven-1307 @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @call-me-nyxx @sans-chara @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @thigh-o-saur @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce @sobbingnshtting

[bbydoll18xx]

Pet Names and Airplanes (Part 3)

Paige Bueckers x reader

It’s Paige’s turn to call the shots.

Themes: smut!! dom!Paige, friends to lovers

Word Count: 2.5k

Part 1

Part 2

A/N: IT FINALLY LET ME POST HALLELUJAH!! You sweetie pies asked for a part 3 and here it is! And to whoever was the original anon who sent me the idea for Pet Names and Airplanes, i love u

~

Seattle had crushed Indiana, although that was pretty much a given. What you hadn’t expected, though, was Paige’s attitude after the game. The whole time, her hand was placed possessively on your thigh, fingers only leaving the soft flesh to be thrown in the air in a joyous celebration of Seattle scoring. And you certainly delighted in the way Paige kept sneaking peeks at one of the hickeys she had left at the base of your throat, threatening to expose the sheer naughtiness that had gone down yesterday. And this morning. 

The relationship between the two of you had changed dramatically in the last 48 hours, leaving you with an undeniable giddiness that bubbled in your chest. And now here you were, talking to Nika on the sidelines of the basketball court, feeling the blonde’s eyes on you, the heat of them radiating off of you in a way that had you shivering. 

Your arm was wrapped around Nika’s waist in a friendly hold; you had missed the Croatian girl, but Paige’s body language suggested that if you didn’t back away, you’d be in deep shit. Her eyes narrowed as you scooched in closer, meeting her gaze with a smug look that said ‘Whatcha going to do about it?’ 

It was not long before she was pulled away by yet another throng of young, adoring fans. She posed for pictures and signed basketballs and shirts, a fond smile adorning your face as you watched, thinking that if anyone deserved all of this, it was Paige.

You are pulled out of your thoughts by Nika who was elbowing you in the side with a shit-eating grin plastered on her face.

“When are you gonna tell her that you love her?” She questions smugly, and your mouth falls open in shock.

You splutter, not even remotely able to form a coherent sentence for a second. She was able to read you like a damn book, and you felt momentarily embarrassed to think that you were that transparent. You had always worn your heart on your sleeve, but you longed to be one of those girls that were just effortlessly cool and almost mysterious. You hated how people could see what you were feeling just by looking at your face, and while you knew your emotional disposition made you who you were, sometimes it felt like it was your personal downfall.

The blaze of your cheeks add fuel to the fire, and Nika giggles as you hide your face in your hands. You sigh defeatedly. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do.”

“It’s Paige,” she soothes. “You guys have always had something more than just a friendship. It’ll work out.” She pulls you into another hug, just as Paige walks back over to the two of you. She clears her throat loudly, and you and Nika separate, meeting her eye with your cheeks still flushed from Nika’s observation. 

“Ready to head back to the hotel, princess?” Paige asks you, her blue eyes staring into yours, and she wraps an arm around your waist possessively, drawing you into her and away from her old teammate. 

You smirk at her blatant jealousy, mentally high-fiving yourself that at least she also lacked subtlety when it came to you.

“I don’t know, P,” you trail. “Maybe we should hang out with Nika some more.” You wet your lips as you look up at the Croatian girl, who is looking between you and Paige with a confused look on her face.

“I want you. All to myself,” she responds bluntly, sending a wave of butterflies soaring through your belly and straight down to your pussy.

Paige sends a glare in Nika’s direction, and a flash of realization dawns on the brunette, her face morphing into a look of pure revulsion.

“Hell no, you two better not be getting me in the middle of whatever this is” Nika scolded, her accent coming out, mixing with the disgust in her voice. She was smart, and she clearly saw your attempts to make Paige jealous.

“I’ll see you two tomorrow. Just go fuck each other like I know you want to,” she says crudely, holding back a laugh. “But thanks for coming. I love you both,” Nika beams, waving and walking towards the Seattle locker rooms. 

“Finally,” Paige mutters, interlocking your fingers with hers and pulling you towards the exit.

The uber back to the hotel was eventful, and if Paige’s possessive grip on your thigh during the game didn’t have you completely dripping, the open-mouth kisses she had been pressing to your neck and jaw certainly did.

It was difficult to hold back your moans in front of the uber driver who was already eying you and Paige suspiciously, and you let out a sigh of relief as he pulled in front of your hotel. Racing through the hall and opening up the door, you rush in, Paige hot on your tail. 

“Finally got you all to myself,” Paige murmured, looking down at you through lustful, hooded eyes. Her voice was deep and husky, dripping with want, and it reignited the swarm of butterflies in your belly. 

“About damn time,” you respond flirtily, before connecting your lips with hers with a moan. Her lips taste like the cherry slushy she had drank at the game, and the smoothness of them has you pressing up into her, desperate for more. 

Paige opens her mouth for you, intertwining her tongue with yours before suddenly pulling away. You chase her lips with a pout on your own, confused as to why she was stopping. You look up at her with fake indignance, and she gazes at you with a sadistic glint in her eyes. 

“Strip and get on the bed.” 

Her tone is firm, and the dominance oozing from her words makes every nerve in your body light up, temporarily putting you in a daze. You bite your bottom lip in a bruising tug, looking up at Paige with wide eyes. 

“Now.” 

The forcefulness of it sends jolts through your most intimate area, and you pull your top over your head, throwing it onto the floor haphazardly, your jeans following shortly after. You are left standing in a black bra and matching panties, and Paige has moved to sit in the chair, legs spread wide. 

“I want you completely naked, baby. Don’t get shy with me. Want to see those pretty little marks on your tits,” she drawls, and her voice alone has you nearly panting with lust. There was something so naughty about her watching you strip, and your body erupts in goosebumps in anticipation. 

Your bra comes off first. The cool air of the hotel room hits your nipples, perking them up in a way that makes Paige run her tongue across her bottom lip, soothing it from the incessant biting. Your panties soon follow, and your body flushes as you notice the stickiness of your inner thighs from your own slick. 

You climb onto the plush bed, ass sticking up in the air, wiggling provocatively in order to get a rise out of the watchful blonde. Settling against the mountain of pillows with your legs slightly spread, you stare back at Paige, trying desperately to avoid covering yourself up. Her gaze is burning into your skin like tiny pinpricks of lustful want, and you squirm at the lack of stimulation. 

You knew you looked needy, but Paige loved it, reveling in the mild humiliation of you being spread out for her viewing pleasure.

Not wanting to back down just quite yet, you hold her eye contact until she stands, sauntering over to the end of the bed. Her gaze lowers slowly, starting at the base of your throat where the myriad of hickies begin, trailing down to your tits and across your stomach, landing on your glistening center. 

A shiver runs down your spine, tightening your nipples even more, and you lick your lips in anticipation of what’s to come. 

“You gonna be a good girl for me, princess?” She asks, arms crossed and biceps bulging. 

A slight whine leaves your throat. “Yes, always good for you,” you promise.

However, Paige looks unconvinced, a wry smile plastered on her gorgeous features. “You weren’t being very good after the game. Hanging all over Nika like a little slut.”

Your heart pounds at her degrading words, and you try to come up with a decent excuse. “I-” 

She cuts you off with a wave of the hand and a scoff. “Save it. You think you’re a good girl? Prove it.”

Before you can even ask how to prove it, Paige is stripping and laying on the bed with spread legs. You crawl over to her, wanting to do everything possible to please her, but she stops you before you can attach your mouth to her sopping center.

“If you want to taste me, you gotta beg,” she claims smugly, and you flush at her words. Just yesterday, you had the upper hand, and now here you were, about to beg to eat her out. 

“P…” you trail off, but she was devilishly unrelenting. A wide smirk adorns her face as she spreads her legs a bit more, beckoning you closer towards her slick warmth. 

Realizing that you were in fact going to have to beg, you decide to give in, losing the battle between your pride and your sanity. 

“Please, Paigey…” you whimper, lips in a prominent pout. “I’ll do anything for you. Just let me have a taste.”

Paige pretends to think about it for a second, mockingly tapping her chin. “I suppose a little taste won’t hurt,” she relents, and before she can go back on her words, you dive in like a woman starved. 

A long moan is pulled from the depths of her throat as you lick a long stripe across her pussy, and you welcome the taste. She was obviously just as turned on as you. The sheer depravity of the situation hits you, and you reach down in between your legs to take care of the burning ache. Two small circles against your clit is all you manage to make before Paige is leaning down to swat your hand away with a dissatisfied tut. 

“Nuh uh. Don’t be touching your pretty, little pussy.” 

Your cheeks burn, but she quickly grabs your hair into a makeshift ponytail and guides your head back down. And that’s all the encouragement you need. Soon enough she’s a moaning mess under you, coming undone with your name on her lips, and you’re licking your own, as if she was the most delicious meal you’ve ever had.

“Fuck, baby,” she moans. “Such a good girl for me.”

And before you can preen at her praises, she is on top of you. Hot, open mouth kisses are being pressed up and down your neck, alternating between sharp bites and soothing licks, adding to the purple marks. Paige trails her fingers up and down your sides before squeezing at your hips, melding the flesh experimentally. 

“Need more,” you pant out, and she hums against your skin, the vibrations shooting through you add to the overwhelmingness of everything. She is descending down your body now, your belly and hips peppered with kisses, all the way down to your inner thighs. She purposely ignores your aching pussy, and your hips fly up to try and meet the softness of her lips, desperate to feel some stimulation.

“Fuck, P, don’t make me beg again,” you whine, and Paige gives you another wide smirk from between your legs. 

She blows cool air across the heat of your dripping pussy, and mutters, “But it’s so sexy when you beg for me, baby.” 

“Paige, please,” you whimper, drawing out the syllables of her name, and finally she acquiesces. A long string of expletives leave your parted lips as she plunges two fingers into you and swirls her tongue around your swollen clit. Paige’s fingers were magic, pumping unabatedly into you and curling expertly against the ridges of your g-spot. 

You bring a hand up to pull roughly at your nipple, causing Paige to let out a low groan at the sight of you playing with your tits, and the vibration shoots straight through your core. If you hadn’t been so comfortable around Paige, you would almost feel embarrassed about how fast you were coming undone. 

This was some teenage boy shit. 

Your moans grow louder and louder as she adds a third finger, the stretch feeling like nothing from the amount of juices slicking the entrance of your pussy and sliding down your inner thighs. She continues to curve her fingers up to that sweet spot, causing you to see stars, and eats you out with unwavering persistence.

“G-gonna cum,” you moan, and before Paige can respond, you are gushing around her fingers with a high-pitched whine and her name on your lips. She slows down her movements, allowing you to ride out your high, before removing her fingers from you and licking them seductively. 

Fuck she was so hot. 

Paige watches your chest rise and fall while you try to catch your breath, strung out from how good she just fucked you. She thinks that you had never looked so beautiful, skin glowing from the lamp of the hotel and the sheen of your sweat adding to the radiance. You’re looking back at her in sheer adoration, wondering how you got so lucky to be in this predicament. 

“God, that just keeps getting better every time,” you giggle once you catch your breath, and Paige chuckles, nodding in agreement. She heads to the bathroom for a washcloth to clean you up, and once she does, she pulls you under the covers, and you think that life could not possibly get better. 

The two of you bask in the glow of orgasms and an overall fondness for one another, both silently musing over how much your relationship had changed in the last few days. As if Paige was reading your thoughts, you hear her whisper, “I don’t think I can go back to just being friends with you.” 

Your heart skips a beat. “I was thinkin’ the same thing,” you mumble, grateful that you could forego the awkward ‘what are we’ conversation. “I don’t think we were ever really just friends,” you add, you cheeks pink as you recall all the flirty moments that had occurred between you and the blonde.

“True,” Paige says, nuzzling her face into your neck. “Well, glad we figured that out.” She pulls you in for another kiss, this time sweet and innocent, without the fire that sex tends to follow. It was all you really needed. Paige was all you really needed. 

And when you sit down in your seat on the airplane the following day, you smile as the memories replay in your mind. Love was forged from nothing but a friendship reformed due to a silly little plane ride and a silly little pet name. 

~

woohoo! let me know what you think!! xoxo

[wannaeatramyeon]

Being Goo Kim's Secret Friend: an introduction

G/N. Trying maybe a new lil storyline. General shenanigans with reader as a secret friend. Masterlists

Goo Kim's circle of secret friends is a very exclusive and private club you are proud to be part of.

Would have figuratively and literally worn the declaration like a badge of honour if it wasn't supposed to be, well - secret.

How he had come to hear about you is still a head scratcher, although you suppose you have built up quite a reputation if you asked the right people.

You know a lot about a lot. Have your finger in all the pies. Developed a knack for keeping your ears low to the ground and anything you don't know, you dare say isn't worth knowing.

Sticking your nose into places it didn't belong though, it should have gotten you into a lot of trouble-

But god has his favourites. Despite your lack of physical prowess, you rolled the dice and somehow accrued enough luck and passable charm for things to work out for you in most situations.

Most.

Your leg has pretty much healed completely after the incident a few years back. It just tends to click a lot whenever you bend your knee. It's fine, you can live with it, after all you should have seen the other guy.

Spoiler alert: he's dead.

.

.

"You owe me, babe." The blonde grins, wiping off his sword with-

"Hey, that's my jacket!" Despite being unsteady on your feet and your right leg throbbing painfully, you hobble over to yank it out of his hands.

"Sorry," he doesn't look sorry at all. He crouches down, opting to use the recently deceased guy's shirt instead. It's terribly disrespectful of the dead.

"He's really dead, huh." You give the body a harsh nudge with your foot. There's nothing, not even a choked gurgle. Just an ever growing puddle of blood and two lifeless orbs peering up at the open sky.

"'Fraid so," he answers, sliding his glasses back up his nose.

"Good." Then you add, "What's your name again?"

.

.

And it's not so much that you're indebted to Goo Kim.

You like to think that you're practically innocent in this. He's the one that pulled the trigger, the actual sword, the very first time you met him and off-ed the guy who was a pain in your ass. It's not like you could control what that blonde maniac chooses to do. 

(Not that you think this defence would hold up in a court of law.)

(...And yes you're thankful, but you have a feeling he was just trying to make a dramatic entrance more than anything.)

So no, you're not indebted to him. It's a mutually beneficial relationship. 

You help Goo with his little queries and his morally grey (if you're being generous) errands; in return there's a steady stream of income and the more efficient and discreet you are, the heftier the tip too.

.

.

Sure, yes, Goo can be a very difficult customer.

His personality takes a bit of getting used to, and you admire your own restraint at not beating him black and blue.

Honestly, that time you met Gun Park, you knew deep in your soul that you had met a kindred spirit. Your eyes connected as Goo was rambling and being his usual deranged self, and you are absolutely certain that the annoyance and murderous intent in his black eyes was also what was reflected in yours.

Anyway- That's a story for another day.

Back to Goo.

He is clingy at the worst of times and flakey when you actually need him. Throws a tantrum if you don't pick up his calls before the third ring though it's fine when he ignores you for days.

Delights in giving cryptic instructions and orders that are less quirky and more deranged riddles, although it is kind of, sort of, a little endearing how much his eyes light up when you finally work out what he's saying.

His sense of personal space and boundary is also unsurprisingly absent. He has a penchant for nicknames that make you cringe and a fondness for slinging his arm around you and cackling in your ear like you're best friends.

Which you know is a lie.

You weren't born yesterday. He’s friends with you precisely because you are not a fool. You know Goo would sell you up the river without a second thought.

But in the end, none of that matters.

You really really can't oversell how good it is to have friends in high places.

Best of all, a friend who seemingly has no issues killing on your behalf and who leaves their own fingerprints all over the scene of the crime.

[muscleloverz69]

A Raw Deal

To a normal person one of the fae might appear human. In fact it is nearly impossible to tell the two apart. The only difference is the fae are always extremely hot. One of the most important rules of dealing with the fae is never make a deal. Unfortunately, Brian had no idea Nick was anything but a young vendor at the music festival. 

All the food looked so good to Brian and he was so hungry, too bad he realized he was flat broke once he reached the front of the line. He looked up from his empty wallet at Nick to apologize and completely froze. Brian had always been completely straight but even he could admit Nick was one of the most attractive men he had ever seen with completely chiseled features, perfect lean muscles that complemented his narrow waist and thick upper thighs spread out in his seat. Nick smirked “Hey dude, you good?” 

“Oh yeah sorry I’m flat broke my bad I’ll step out of line.”

Brian was so flustered he completely missed the predatory gleam in Nick’s eyes. “Bro don’t even worry about it, I’ll make you a deal help me out in the back for a couple hours and lunch is on me.”

“Wow really, thanks!”

“Of course! The only rule is you can’t eat until we’re done or it’ll mess up my inventory count.”

Brian was so hungry but he knew he could struggle through a couple hours for a free lunch, so he nodded and followed Nick into the tent behind the counter.

The moment Brian entered the tent he felt his stomach cramp up, the most delicious smells of pies, cookies, and sandwiches were coming at him from every angle.

“So, I really just need you to stay here for the next two hours and make sure nobody sneaks back here and eats anything.”

Brian could only shake his head in agreement and watch as Nick walked away admiring his full ass move as he did. He rubbed his eyes trying to snap himself out of it. Brian had never so much as looked at a man in his entire life but maybe the hunger and partying from the past couple days was getting to him.

Not to mention Brian was a little sex-starved. It wasn’t that he was unattractive. Some would definitely think he was cute but it was always in a twinky nerd way. He looked nothing like Nick who was already occupying more space in his mind than another man should.

The first hour wasn’t easy, but Brian just tried to ignore the food around him and relax. He didn’t notice Nick peek through the entrance. Nick was starting to wonder if Brian would make it the full time and decided he needed to turn up the challenge. Nick walked back into the tent holding a large pizza. “Hey, this came a little early its for after you’re done working but it might be a little cold by then.”

Nick shrugged and walked back out. Brian sweated it out for a few minutes before finally stuffing his face with the pizza. It only took a few bites before Brian could tell something was wrong. First he felt a burning sensation on his arm, then in big letters NICK was written in black on his arm. He found himself frozen unable to move at all.

Brian stood there unable to move for the next few hours until it got late. Then Nick walked in with a wicked smile across his face. “Hello Brian, so it looks like you couldn’t wait to eat. Unfortunately, that means you are now my servant.”

Nick snapped his fingers and Brian found myself able to speak but my feet were still planted to the ground.

“WHAT. I don’t understand I’m sorry I couldn’t help myself.”

“Brian, it’s quite alright. These things happen you’ll come home with me and the details of your contract will be provided shortly.”

Nick walked forward to Brian wrapping his muscular arms around his waist. Nick brushed under Brians chin forcing them to make eye contact. Nick leaned in their lips brushing against each other. “We are going to have fun together.”

Brian woke up in a large bed sore and confused. As he looked around his eyes landed on a man. He was an attractive guy, large boulder shoulders and beefy pecs that shadowed over him.

“You’re up,” the man walked over to him.

“My name is Jock how do you feel?”

Brian shook his head confused, “your name is Jock.”

“I don’t think it was always Jock but that’s what master said it is now.”

It was then Brian glanced down at his arm to the letters NICK and remembered what happened. Jock went on to explain that Nick was a fae and had tricked the both of them into becoming his slaves. They were now magically forced to do anything Nick asked. 

“Really anything master wants you’ll do, become, or believe,” Jock sat down on the bed. “I didn’t always look like this but this is what master wanted for when he has fun with me”

Brian was in disbelief at what a quick turn his life had taken. “So what can I do? I’m not gay and I don’t want to be owned.”

Jock shook his head “There really isn’t anything you can do, my only advice, Master offers everyone the same deal…take it.”

It was then the door swung open. Nick walked in to the bedroom shirtless, his tight muscles reminding Brian of some predatory cat. “Jock thank you for watching our new guest, you can go.”

Like that Jock was gone. Now it was just Brain and Nick.

“So Brian I trust Jock filled you in. Now its time to make you more suited for my home. First I value fitness so grow your muscles for me.” 

Brian hardly had a chance to be confused before he felt his stomach ache and looked down to see a set of cobbled defined abs. He suddenly felt much wider as his shoulders and back spread. His pecs began to balloon and his biceps thickened.

Nick smiled as he closed the distance between them. “Now you look tasty.” 

Nick kissed Brian pushing him backward on the bed. Brian opened his mouth to say something but Nick cut him off “You will participate and try to please me.”

Brian quickly got the message and allowed his lips to part for Nick’s tongue. Brian tossed his own shirt on the floor. Internally he was screaming, I’m not gay, but he couldn’t help but try to make Nick happy.

Nick groped Brian’s new arms before cupping his face. “Now time for a few more things. First Brian doesn’t quite suite you anymore, I think from now on you’ll be Thad and you can forget it was ever anything else.”

Thad was confused. Wait wasn’t his name always Thad. Was that right?” 

Nick interupted Thad’s thinking, ”The only thing is that name isn’t known for being intellegent so let’s dumb you down and make you a little more bro-y”

Thad felt a relaxing fog descend on him, he didn’t mind it. “Bruh that kinda feels sick.”

“Now just one last thing. I offer everyone this deal, now it’s your turn. You will live hear forever but if you agree to become gay I will make you happy to be here. Then you’ll have as much fun with our encounters as me. I could just make these changes myself, but honestly it’s no difference to me how you feel and the choice is more fun.”

Thad felt confused. A feeling he would probably have to get used to with his new intellect, but he needed to choose. Thad decided that if this was his new life he might as well enjoy it.

“Ok dude, do it.”

Thad felt it almost instantly. He was in the best place ever, and standing in front of him was the sexiest man he had ever seen. Thad almost lept forward, ripping Nicks pants off and began latching onto his cock. Nick gripped Thad’s new styled hair as his head bobbed up and down. Then Nick came. Nick chuckled Thad didn’t know it but the entire spell only would have lasted 24 hours then he could have gone home free, but now that he willingly drank Nick’s cum the spell was sealed forever.

Meanwhile Thad was in total bliss he was going to love being here with Nick and Jock.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

See No Evil, Hear No Evil {1}

Aemond One-Eye x deaf!fem!reader Summary: Love blossoms when you get to know the sweet man and not the cocky Prince. Warnings: fluff, Aegon being a predator, more fluff. I know lip reading is not easy or infallible but for this the reader is able to read lips almost perfectly. WC: 4.9k

Part One || Part Two || Part Three ||

Couples were dancing around the space that had earlier been occupied by long tables for the feast, their joyous smiles twisting your gut with jealousy. No one would ask you to join them, not when you could not hear the very music that set the pace.

Returning your attention to the table that you were seated at, you watched the men and women intently. Some glared at you when they caught your eyes on them, waving their hand as if it could blow you out of sight and out of mind. Moving on to the next, you found a single blue eye staring back. 

Prince Aemond. He was another social outcast, though his personality was as much to blame as the jagged scar that ran through his left eye. There was always a taunting smirk on his lips and a cold gleam in his eye, it sent the courtiers vying for the hand of anyone but him. Not even the power hungry, attention seekers dared to subject themselves to his viperous nature. 

His brother captured his attention and whatever spell had kept you enthralled with his stare broke. The two Targaryen princes leaned together and Aemond’s lips pursed as Aegon spoke with nervous mannerisms that warned you they would have been whispering, but you could read his lips. 

“There is something desirable about a silent woman,” Aegon said as his eyes flickered your way. “But I would do anything to make her scream.”

Aemond’s lips pulled back with a sneer before he answered, “I can only imagine the depravities that fill your mind.”

“I do not think you have the creativity needed to imagine them, little brother.”

“Thank the gods for that blessing,” Aemond said as he leant back. “She is too intelligent for you anyhow.”

“Intelligent?” Aegon rocked back with a laugh that drew the others’ attention to him. “She cannot hear and does not speak.”

Aemond turned his eye back to you. “Then she must see a great deal, for there is definitely intelligence behind those eyes.”

“Then I would face her down when I bed her.”

You looked away and wrapped your fingers around the silver goblet so they were occupied and the trembling was hopefully unnoticeable. You had expected no better of the eldest son of the King, he was known to stick his fingers in many pies - though sometimes he didn’t stop at his fingers. 

You might have been deaf to the tales the maids spoke of as they prepared you but you saw everything from the tears in their eyes to the bruises barely hidden by their uniforms. Just the thought of Aegon even noticing you had a knot twisting in your stomach.

Pushing the velvet-lined chair back, you rose from the table and nodded silently to the sickly Viserys. He gave a weak dismal wave of his hand that rested on the arm of his chair and you pressed your fingertips to your chin in return, thanking him for permitting your leave. After flattening the layers of skirts that had creased beneath the table, you laced your fingers together and ignored the two stares that watched your retreat from the dining room. 

The feeling of spiders dancing down your spine didn’t ease, even after you had snaked your way through Red Keep to the atheneum. There would normally be a maester wandering the quiet halls full of books, organising the rows into alphabetical fashion and finding requested pieces for others, but with the late hour it was empty. 

The scent of dust and beeswax greeted you as you closed the door behind you. Someone had been waxing a leather bound book cover and the yellow bar had been left beside a half shiny cover as if they might return at any moment. Walking over to the small table, you opened the cover to see what the book was and found it to be a personal journal of Aegon the Conqueror. 

Warmth touched your nape and your lips parted with a sharp intake of breath as you spun around, your legs tangling in the skirts and your hip hitting the table with a sharp jolt of pain. Aemond stepped back with a smirk, his hands raised in innocence that was betrayed by the amusement in his eye.

“Apologies,” he said. “I did not mean to startle you.”

You rubbed your palm over the bruise that would no doubt be forming and narrowed your eyes at the blatant lie. “I shall rephrase, I did not mean for you to get hurt.” Aemond’s smirk grew until his lips parted and his shoulders bounced with a laugh. “I know you can understand me.”

He reached for you and you froze at the closeness, and his scent that washed over you as his hair nearly brushed your cheek. He smelt of the woods you had run through as a child, pine and earth, fresh and rich. Then there was the fruity yet tarty hint of wine that followed as he exhaled slowly, as if he had taken an equally long inhale of the floral perfume you wore.

As quick as he had come for you, he was gone, Aegon’s journal with him and you let out a shuddering breath as you realised you were not the object he had been reaching for. He seemed to take pleasure in the confusion on your face as he smirked once again and tucked the novel under his arm with a mocking bow. 

His eye lingered on your hip as he straightened. “Take care, milady.”

You could not breathe again until the door sealed shut but you no longer felt the calm that you usually found in the athenium, the books no longer welcoming as the tall shelves towered above you with their dark shadows. Angered by the effect Aemond had in your place of sanctuary, you swiped a book from the closest shelf and made for your chambers and the thick lock bolt that you could hide behind. 

The courtyard was busier than usual as you took a seat on a stool against the Keep walls. The airy space had become a favourite place to sit since you were not allowed to leave the high red brick walls without an escort. Since this was not your House territory you had to rely upon King Viserys’ white cloaked guards but you did not wish to make a fuss so you had not utilised the soldiers. 

The sky was blue and the clouds that had blanketed the city at dawn were quickly evaporated by the heat and it enticed many others to step into the sunshine. Pulling your small bound notebook from the pocket in your skirt, you unwrapped a stick of coal and looked around for something to catch your eyes. The twin guards, Arryk and Erryk, were huddled close as they entered through the gates and your hand moved across the page.

E: She paid another maid to leave last night in the cover of darkness. That is the fourth this month. A: What did you expect? Bastards don’t belong in the Keep. E: Someone needs to stop him. A: Careful, brother, what you speak could be considered treason.

They disappeared deeper into the Keep and you read over the dialogue trying to understand what they had been talking of when a shadow passed over the page. You slammed the book closed and looked up, momentarily blinded by the bright sun reflecting off the head of long silvery white hair. 

The stick of coal had fallen to the dirt in your rush to hide the page and Aemond crouched before you to gather it, holding it out in his palm. Your eyes lingered on the calluses from hours of training and the thin scars that littered the skin that peeked out from under his tunic. 

You had not seen him since the incident in the atheneum and you had forgotten the connection that had seemed palpable in the days gone by but now you were once again caught by his eye. You had failed to notice the flecks of violet in the pale blue iris when you last saw them but that was in a dimly lit room, in the sun they were almost iridescent.

It wasn’t until he took your hand and unfurled your fingers that you realised how long you had stared, breaking away with embarrassment as he placed the coal into your palm. The hairs on your nape rose under the intensity of the moment and you curled your fingers around the coal gently so as not to crush your writing tool. You slipped the coal back into your pocket and pressed your fingers to your chin.

“You’re welcome,” he replied with a small smile. He reached for your face and your breath froze in your lungs as he ran his thumb softly across jaw. “Can’t have a smudge of coal hiding your beauty.”

You were certain you read his lips wrong but the flutter in your chest betrayed your common sense and a smile tugged at your lips. His eye followed the curve of your smile and he had to shake his head to clear his thoughts before rising to his feet. 

“Care to walk with me, milady?”

You could feel eyes on you as the crowd snooped to see why the One Eyed Prince would be talking to you. You had long ago learned to ignore the stares but for some reason that seemed a harder task today. Tucking your notebook away, you accepted his offer with a nod and let him lead the way to the Royal gardens that were usually off limits.

“I must admit, you intrigue me,” Aemond said after stopping beneath the weirwood tree and facing you. “You and your notebook that you carry everywhere.”

You automatically pressed your hand to the reassuring weight and frowned, wondering where this was leading to.

“May I see it?”

Your fingers tightened around it and you shook your head adamantly. A heat flared across your skin at the thought of him reading your notes and looking at the drawings that you attempted. He appeared within the pages far too often for your own liking. 

“As prince, I could demand it of you,” he said as he stepped closer. The wind changed and caught his hair, flicking wayward strands over his shoulder and the scent of lemon verbena shampoo drifted your way along with the purely masculine musk of sweat from training. 

You walked away, needing to clear your senses that he overpowered much like his very presence in the garden. The notebook suddenly seemed like an anchor and each step was heavy as you took a seat on the edge of a long bench in the shade. From the corner of your vision you saw Aemond sit at the other end, the entire length separating him from you. 

Tap, tap, tap. 

Your fingers tingled with the vibrations as they rested atop the bench beside your legs. 

Tap, tap, tap.

You turned to face Aemond and found his smirk growing as he used his fingernail to tap and scratch the wood. 

“You can feel that, can’t you?”

You nodded your head and his smile grew, transforming his face and erasing the harsh lines that were usually shaped with a scowl. You startled with the realisation that you found him handsome and your palms grew warm as you wiped them on your dress that was suddenly too heavy for the spring weather.

Tap, tap, tap.

You were pulled from your thoughts and looked back at the prince, hoping he could not see the effect he had on you but the intensity to his stare made you feel naked, as if every thought you ever had was laid bare for him to read. 

His lips parted with a sharp intake and he leant closer, though he was still far from reach as he mouthed the word, “Beautiful.”

There was something therapeutic in being around the horses and you often found yourself wandering into the stables. The servants and stableboys no longer sent you odd looks as they grew used to your presence most days and you were grateful to be left in solitude as you combed the black and grey haired stallion that had caught your eye. 

You had just placed the comb back on the hook that hung beside the gate when you felt vibrations in the wood beneath your hand. 

Tap, tap, tap.

Stunned, you turned to find Aemond resting against the gate with a lazy smile on his face.

“I hope you aren’t planning on stealing my horse, gorgeous.” 

You rolled your eyes and didn't dignify him with an answer as you reached into your skirt pockets and found the carrot you had stolen from dinner the night before. Aemond’s shadow followed you as he opened the gate and stepped inside the stall, his hand landing gently on your shoulder so you were aware of where he was, as if you hadn’t been keeping track.

“No wonder Storm was slow to gallop,” Aemond said as he faced you from the other side of his horse, his hand petting down the long mane. “You have been spoiling him.”

You kept your palm flat as you Storm’s lips pulled back and he greedily took the carrot. The name suited the horse with his colourings of the turbulent stormy skies and you scratched his ear while he finished his snack. 

“As much as I enjoy hearing my own voice, there must be another way for us to communicate.” Aemond stepped around the front of Storm and you frowned as you no longer felt the urge to back away from him as you had in the past. “Teach me the signs I have seen you do.”

You were shocked by his request even though you knew him to be an intellect and a scholar, the fact that he spent so many mornings training to be a warrior seemed to fill you with the idea that he was more brute than student. Your nursemaid had been the one to help you create the secret language but it had never really expanded past what a child might need to convey. You had relied upon written communication but that was only useful with the highborns who were educated, unfortunately most of the servants were illiterate. 

Reaching into your pocket, you pulled out the notebook you were never without and tore out a blank page before he could see what secrets the book held. He watched as your handwriting sprawled across the page and you could see his chest bouncing with a laugh before he took it from you.

He slipped the note into the folds of his cloak with an amused smile, not at all offended by the message you had given him. You smell. Bathe first, then I will teach you.

“I shall meet you in the library, milady, after bathing of course.” He bowed at the waist though his eye never left you and you didn’t see the mocking smile he had given you the last time he had made the gesture. The pale blue orb seemed to zero in on the pulse at your neck, as if he could see how rapidly it raced in his intense presence. “I shall see you soon.”

Three Months Later

You had seen neither hide nor hair of Aemond as you strolled the halls of the Keep, the tourney for his brother’s name day was about to begin and you did not wish to enter the highborn box alone. Giving up hope on finding him, you followed the few other ladies who were late and slipped into the back row in the hopes your presence would go unnoticed.

The bench seat kept shifting as ladies rose with their garlands, tossing the favours to the lords who asked in hopes they might win their challenge with the luck. Each time they moved you cursed inwardly and settled your heart that pounded erratically, wishing the entire event be over with. 

You were tracing the embroidered floral design on your skirts when a hand waved in front of your face and you nearly fell back in fright. The only person you knew it wasn’t was Aemond, he knew to touch your shoulder to get your attention so as not to give you a heart attack. Peering up as you clutched your chest, you found Lady Reyne looking apologetic as she pointed to the front where the jousting course was set. 

Aemond sat atop his horse, patiently waiting with a smile as he caught your eyes. A thousand questions ran through your head as you rose from the bench and clutched the favour of woven asters and budding chrysanthemums to your breast. You could feel the eyes of the entire crowd following your steps down to the front of the highborn box and past King Viserys, but there was only one that held you captive. 

“May I ask for your favour, milady?”

You nodded with a smile, grateful that you had taken his advice to make the flower crown. When he said that someone may ask one of you, your head had fallen back with a silent laugh before you shook your head, but he had insisted and you could not deny him. 

Casting the favour out, it twirled down the length of his jousting pole until it reached his hand. His smile was brighter than the sun as he pulled at the reins of his stallion and made his way to the lists. His mother caught your hand with a gentle smile as you passed by and she patted the space beside her in invitation. 

You ringed your fingers nervously as you watched Aemond’s armour shimmer in the sunlight while his horse paced, awaiting the drop of the flag to begin the match. Alicent placed her hand over yours, unclenching them and lacing them with hers as she fretted over her son. You could tell she liked the idea of seeing her son facing a jousting opponent as much as you did. You had seen the heinous injuries one could get in the sport. 

Alicent patted your hand and you tore your eyes away from Aemond to look at her as she said, “He will be fine, dear. Aemond is one of the best.”

You nodded and hoped it looked reassuring before you noticed the flag drop. Aemond kicked his boots in the stirrups and his horse took off, kicking a spray of sand up behind him. You barely breathed as he raced along the fence and levelled out his pole, his opponent doing the same. Time seemed to slow as the poles crossed each other and crashed wood against armour, shattering into splinters. 

The air in your lungs exploded from you as you jumped to your feet and rushed to the rail to see Aemond still atop his horse. His opponent was sprawled across the sand but Aemond paid him no mind as he circled back to the rail where you waited and pulled his helmet from his head before shaking out his long hair that was mussed up. 

“Is your heart still in your chest?” Aemond asked as he looked up at you, amusement teasing a smirk on his lips.

You pointed to yourself and curled your fingers over your face before pointing to him, his lips parting with a laugh that shook his shoulders. 

“Why are you mad at me? I won.”

Waving him off, you noticed the next opponents were arriving to request their favours and he shot them a dirty look as they interrupted you. 

“Meet me in the library.”

You nodded and moved away as two ladies reached the railing, missing the smile Alicent had after watching the interaction. 

The tourney would continue all day so it was no surprise to find the athenium empty when you arrived and took a seat on the plush settee. The stained glass windows cast a colourful shadow across the stone floor and you reached into your pocket for your notebook and coal to capture the image. 

You were just finishing with the shading and smudging the shadows onto the parchment with your fingertip when you felt the air shift around your face. A smile was already pulling on your lips when you looked up to find Aemond dressed once more in his finery and his hair still damp from bathing. The citrus tart of his soap teased your nose and you reached for him as you closed your book. 

He let you pull him onto the cushioned seat beside you and chuckled to himself as you ran your hands over his fitted shirt before he caught your hands. “I am unharmed.”

You narrowed your eyes at him until he released your hands to continue to make their own assessment. When you were satisfied that he was not just trying to placate you, you shuffled closer and slipped under his arm that he opened for you in invitation. 

While waiting for his arrival you had been wondering how you could return the gesture he had made for you in front of the entire city and he could sense your unrest as you shifted in your seat. Unable to look him in the eye, you grabbed your notebook and placed it on his lap.

His fingers traced your jaw and turned you to face him so you could see what he had to say. “Are you sure?”

You nodded before you lost your courage and he carefully opened the bound covering as if it were an invaluable, fragile piece of history. He treated it knowing how you cherished it. 

You did not look to see what pages he perused, some drawings and some snippets of passing conversations, but instead watched his reactions. With each turn of the page you knew what he would find and your nervousness grew. The drawings of Red Keep and the Royal Gardens would soon change and he would see himself through your eyes. 

It had not taken long for him to become your muse, in fact in the last few months it had become an addiction. There was not a day that passed where you didn’t want to capture his likeness, sometimes it was when the sunlight caught his hair or the smile that he reserved just for you. 

His lips parted with surprise and you knew he had reached the moment you had first given in to your desire and drawn him content in the gardens. Your palms turned clammy and your heart threatened to beat right out of your chest as he turned each page until he reached the last and closed it.

You swallowed the lump in your throat as he turned to you and you saw his eye shimmering with unshed tears. Of all the reactions, that was not one that you could have expected. Aemond was always so collected and cool until you had peeled back the layers of his self-protection but this was the last mask to fall away. 

You reached for his cheek, cupping the warm skin as you wiped away the single tear that escaped before he closed his eye and leaned into the touch. 

“Thank you,” he said as he opened his eye again, blinking away the rest of the tears before they could fall. “No one draws my eyes.”

You frowned at the statement and he sighed from the heavy breath of air that brushed over your skin. “The artists who take our portraits do so from my right, this,” he tapped his leather eye patch, “makes them uncomfortable.”

Tears welled in your own eyes as you saw the pain he still felt though the wound had long healed. Though it was compromising, you rose to your knees and straddled his legs, shock flitting across his face before fear seeped in as you reached for the leather patch. 

“It is not pretty, milady.”

You circled your palm over your chest and you thought he would deny your plea for permission as he pursed his lips but then he bowed his head with a nod. 

His eye stared intently at you as you traced your finger over the leather that had been warmed by his body heat. The smooth material was softer than you thought it would be as you eased it from his head and bared his scar for the first time. Your breath rushed through your parted lips as you saw the crude line that had carved through his eyebrow, down his eye and across his cheek. 

He turned away and your heart clenched as he hid himself from you but he had to know, it wasn’t the scar that caused your reaction, you were horrified at how he had been hurt so badly. Cradling his cheeks in your hands, you gently guided him back to you but still he refused eye contact.

There was only one way you could show him how you felt and your stomach fluttered at the thought as you pulled him closer and pressed your lips to his cheek, just below the scar. His breath warmed your shoulder as he shuddered beneath your touch and you kissed him a little higher, grazing the skin that changed from smooth to raised. The tension in his shoulders relaxed with each soft kiss and when you pulled back you were able to admire the sapphire that replaced his missing eye without him turning away.

“Are you not repulsed?”

Your brows knitted together in confusion as you shook your head and stood up, instantly missing the warmth of his hands where they had rested on your hips. He watched curiously as you grabbed your notebook from where he had placed it and fished your pockets for the coal. Though you wanted to sit close to him it was not the right place for what you wanted to do and so you took a seat on the settee opposite.

Not liking how far you were away either, he tried to stand and join you but the stern finger you pointed at him had him sinking back into the cushions while you found a blank page. He remained still as you captured his likeness on the page and the colourful shadows of the stained glass window reached his hair. 

You knew of merchants that could recreate colours with ochre and malachite collected from Essos but even with your family’s wealth the rare minerals remained out of reach. You were left with the common sticks of coal and on your name day you often received the finer illustrator of graphite. 

Satisfied by the portrayal, from the long strands of hair that were now dry to the strong jawline that had felt better than imagined in your hands, you rose from the chair. Aemond welcomed you back into his arms and eagerly looked at the page that was still open. His throat bounced with the swallow he took and you chewed on your bottom lip as you waited with bated breath.

He turned slowly so you could see his lips before he spoke, “This is how you see me?” 

You looked at the picture and smiled at the face of a confident, handsome young man as he faced the world without having to hide. Looking back at Aemond, you placed your hand over his heart and nodded. 

His arms pulled you closer as he dipped his head and your body trembled in anticipation. Every nerve ending flared to life when his lips caressed yours ever so softly and your hands tangled in his hair as you returned the kiss with more force. You could feel his smile against you before he gave you what you needed and deepened the kiss, stealing your breath until you broke away feeling lightheaded. 

His thumb traced your tingling lips as you slipped back into the seat, tucked under his arm, and you saw his kiss-swollen lips. You imagined yours looked the same and heat flooded you with the thought of being caught in the compromising state. A sliver of panic grew in your chest, if rumours spread then you would be shamed from your family so you scampered from the chair and brushed your hands over your skirts.

Alarm erupted from Aemond at the sudden change and he watched you right yourself, hurt haunting his blue eye before he too rose. “Please do not regret what we shared.”

You froze, your jaw dropping at what he had mistaken your fear as and against your better judgement, you launched yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his narrow waist as you shook your head. He curled himself around you until you felt entirely enveloped by his arms and his scent as he buried his face in your neck.

Pulling away reluctantly, he took your hand and placed it on his chest so you could feel the thunderous beat of his heart as it raced. “This belongs to you and I am yours if you will have me.”

His face blurred as tears welled in your eyes, the fierce nod of your head sending them cascading down your cheeks until he wiped them away with a proud smile. 

“I thought of another sign,” he said as he lifted his right hand up so his palm faced you before tucking his middle and ring finger back down. “When you see this, know that I love you.”

You raised your own hand and watched his tremble as you admitted what had been growing with each passing day since that first walk in the gardens. I love you.

Click here for part two.

[hoeforhao]

hi !! if it's alright may i request svt with a fem/gn reader with massive tits? like just how would the boys react (nsf/w or sfw is upto you :D) to a reader with the big naturals, which if you do this request tysm!! :D

well well y'all will never see me again after this post, cuz am literally embarrassed asf!!! also me writing about something i don't have??makes me sad ;(

Masterlist

Seungcheol: This man is a huge sucker for asses. Like he lives to bend you over and fuxk you deep. But little do people know, boobs are his secret weakness, and having someone with big naturals? You just know that he'll be using them as stress balls, pumping them like his life depends on it,everytime he's stressed from work; bury his face deep down into the pillows and fall asleep on his personal plushies.

Jeonghan: I somehow feel like he'll be more into smaller breasts, but that doesn't mean he won't be relishing your mounds to the max while his dick is buried deep inside of you. He is of the type to circle your clothed nipples with his slick fingers as you cook, only to end up enjoying the view of them all perked up as he eats his meal.

Joshua: He's such a softie when it comes to sucking the life out of your breasts. Like he would literally worship you while saying things like "I've never seen such full and gorgeous boobs angel. Ydk how badly I wait everyday to come back home and adore them". Also I feel like shua will have a slight mommy kink only when it comes to your breasts and doze off on your bosom like a child, if he's too tired and snore like an absolute baby.

Junhui: Another huge tease. But unlike jeonghan, he would be totally showy of how much he loves your big tits, cupping them at every chance he gets, buying you all white lacey lingerie with several slits, so that he can keep on getting a show of your bouncy cream pies all throughout the day, while brushing his cold fingers against the perked up buds every once in a while.

Soonyoung: I've got only one thing to say. He would literally run home to rub his sweaty face all over your bust, as soon as he finishes the group dance lessons; latching onto your nipples the whole time while you make his post practice smoothie.

Wonwoo: He would have you seated on his lap the entire time while he plays his silly little online games with his friends, squeezing your boobs for emotional support and twisting the stubs everytime he is even slightly close to losing ; earning low muffled moans from you that in turn act as his fuel to win.

Jihoon: This man is not at all that soft as he appears to be. He would have a separate space in his studio where he would tie you up with button vibrators on your nipples ; setting them to the highest speed as he creates his new masterpiece with your ecstatic moans as the bgm. After finishing his demo, he would come to your limp body drained from cumming multiple times, and roam his pale digits over the overly sensitive stumps while nurturing them with soft kisses.

Minghao: You're his biggest muse. He would call you anytime he feels artblocked; lathering the paint all over your breasts as he presses them onto the canvas to paint his brand new piece. What's a brush???!! He doesn't consider buying brushes and sponges for his art supply!! Why would he even, when he has your big milky tits for a sponge and the two perks as his brush.

Mingyu: HE IS SIMPLY OBSESSED WITH YOUR BOOBS. THAT'S IT!! Filling up your closet with blazers two sizes smaller than your bust, only so that he can see your breats pressed tightly against in each other in nothing but the long blazers, forming the most ravishing cleavage anyone has ever seen; as he takes you on a home dinner date and sucks onto his personal pacifier as the dessert later.

Seokmin: Would be pretty shy to admit how he loves the sight your boobs bouncing up and down as he fuxks the life out of you every night. It would literally take him an entire year worth courage to ask to play with your butter soft breasts,for the times he is out of you and once you agree, he would latch onto your skin like a slug.

Seungkwan: Again, a very coy boy, absolutely terrified of letting you know how crazy he is driven by your big pillows. Would love to peek at them while you take a shower, the droplets gracefully dripping down the bumps, wishing that it was his tongue slowly gliding down your nipples, instead.

Vernon: If you ask me, I feel like he would have a huge mommy kink. Pining to suck onto your milky teats everytime y'all go out, having you rush home early only to let your big baby play with his favorite toy, is a compulsory routine for him.

Dino: Don't even get me started on how much Chan loves the fact that his s/o has such big naturals. People would die to have such supple, juicy tits to feast onto every night and he gets it for free? A gift he would cherish his entire life. He might treat you like a whore in bed, but your boobs?Well, they're only his to worship and making sure he paints them red every night, is his biggest duty!!!

[empthy1]

heyyy I was wondering if you’d be up to maybe writing a Victoria Nueman fic where maybe the reader is like a supe who’s not well known at all in like their personal life, antisocial, they’re very exclusive and maybe they’re genuinely like a myth, like some sort of phantom or something and maybe they’ve been tasked(by themselves, after hearing about how she was in danger) to watch over Victoria from afar until they actually have to step in and save her from being jumped and maybe her powers were blocked so she couldn’t fight back and so reader finishes them off for her? and maybe like it turns out that they were also at red river when they were young and them and Victoria were friends so that’s why they had been watching over her. Like a guardian angel or like a guard dog. so like a gn!reader.

- 👁

Guardian Angel - Victoria Neuman

omg yesssss ty warnings: none? idk lmk

Most Supes weren’t exactly… subtle. Big, flashy displays and exaggeration of power were Vought’s M.O. Snatching up every Supe that made it to the top of the rankings, perfected super speed and strength and showmanship, with an ego the size of Texas.

You were… less like that.

With powers that allowed you to slip into shadow, and the personality to match, Vought overlooked you. Saw a mediocre crime fighting major and didn’t think twice. You liked it that way.

After school, you were assigned to any small town. Some place that led you to disappear even more, somewhere with no more troubles than cats stuck in trees and dumb teen robbing the gas station. Most of the time, the police dealt with everything, not needing you to even intervene.

It allowed you to slip away whenever you wished, exploring the country through its shadows. Slipping in and out of places hadn’t always been this easy. But, with years sneaking yourself (and another, once upon a time) out of the orphanage had lead to a skill honed liked a knife. It also led you to… interesting career paths. Let’s just say that.

Being a PI was boring and thankless. Cheating spouses and pending divorcees were your usual clientele. Occasionally, though, you’d get an interesting case. Like protecting the soon-to-be Vice President.

Sneaking into her house was easy. Even with the increased security, and random cameras on every corner of NYC, slipping in under the door, body melding with the shadows was so, so easy. What caught you off guard was not the government files you found in her office, no—but the countless familiar items, sparking childhood memories. Not of Victoria Neuman, but Nadia. Your scared little friend, who was attached to your hip day and night (really. You slept in the same bed more nights than not).

A locket, showing her parents. The same one she revealed with trembling fingers one cold night, months into your joined stay. Or maybe her journal, pages delicate and yellowed from age.

The kicker—the one thing that truly incriminated her was her daughter. You didn’t mean to see her. You usually only survey rooms and leave, planting cameras in the dark corners. Yet, there she was, sleeping. A spitting image of the girl you once knew, young and soft.

You had to get out of there, but not before seeing her. There, sat at her desk, head a weary weight on one hand. Even with small marks of stress and age, she's still recognizable. This is about so much more than the money now.

Weeks of surveillance. It’s more time than you usually take. Instead of pictures of infidelity and sin, notes about drug drop-offs and mistress names, you’re greeted by pictures of her, notes that don’t relate to her protection. How she likes her bagels, or her coffee. How long she works, when she gets home. There are even a few notes about her daughter’s preferences—a favorite color, beloved character, and how she’s doing in school.

You were bound to get caught, one of these days. Sneaking around her house, knowing how protective she is about her daughter? Oh, you had a death wish. It’s just a normal surveillance—slipping through the shadows, notepad tucked in your pocket and a digital camera against your breast—

Unceremoniously, you’re grabbed, yanked from the protection of darkness. Sent sprawling and tumbling over the hardwood floors of her office, the one you’d almost memorized by now, you’re greeted by a familiar, pissed face.

“If you don’t tell me why you’re here, I’m calling the police—“ when your mask is ripped off by her callous hand, she gapes as wide as her training will allow her—barely a brief widening of eyes. A breath of your name is breathed, before she’s rearing back again. “What are you doing in my house. You didn’t think I wouldn’t catch you?”

No more sweet bedmate. She’s gone steely in your view, drawing back as if to protect herself.

“Nadia—I’m not here for… I was here for a job. Protect you.” Immediately comes your reasoning. Please, please believe me.

She seems too, if only minutely. Softening, just that little bit.

“You promise?” She murmurs lowly, a wary note to her words. Even then, she’s still idealistic—trusting of the ones she loves. Are you still one of them?

“Promise.” Is equally low and murmured, a pinky automatically extended. The juvenile routine, still ingrained in both your minds. Your hands meet pinky first, other fingers tentatively twining after the promise as she hauls you up.

Warmth is all you can feel as you’re barreled into. She’s not tall by any means—but she’s solid, with warm hands and soft hair against your skin. Wrapping you up in that all-too-familiar bear hug, as though you’d never reunite. Mumbled words against your skin and soft breaths meld, in this unlikely place. Meeting again, a decade-and-a-half later.

[sporadicthingcollection]

The Unskinny Bop (Buggy the Clown x F!Reader)

Summary: You're a really good cook and that's most of the problem. The rest of it is that he's too weak-willed to resist a treat right in front of him. Pairing: Buggy the Clown x F!Reader Rating: 🌶 Explicit 🌶 Word Count: ~6.1k Warnings: Body insecurity (male and female), cunnilingus, masturbation, PiV sex A/N: Dad Bod Buggy my beloved

---

She's playing all night And the music's all right Mama's got a squeeze box And Daddy never sleeps at night

---

It's his own damn fault, really.

He's the one who charmed the pretty diner cook — that’d be you — into joining his crew. It was an easy sell. You get off of the little podunk island you’re stuck on and he gets those delicious little puffy pastry things every morning.

What he didn’t expect was how well you made everything else. He's had to let his pants out three times in two months because of it.

Fluffy pancakes, perfectly slung hash, and a pie-looking thing with eggs and vegetables and cheese you called a “keesh” for breakfast. Sandwiches stuffed with veggies and meat, piles of pasta tossed in rich sauce, and thick slabs of juicy steak for dinner. Not to mention the mountains of snacks and treats in between.

He came to realize that food is a key aspect of your personality. It's just what you do. A dog chases its tail, Richie pushes things off of tables, and you flit around the deck like a pastry pixie, abducting people into the galley for taste-testing. 

Like right now.

His only warning that you're coming is a chirped “Captain!” before he's yanked through the door. He doesn't even have time to react before you've shoved a spoonful of something into his mouth.

He's not surprised. You do it to everyone who walks in. Food is how you show affection.

“Whaddya think?” you ask.

He swallows it too quickly to make a judgment, but it's sweet and that's all he needs to know. “Tasty.”

Every time you smile, he swears a flashbulb goes off somewhere. “Good,” you say. “It'll be even better tomorrow.”

He doesn't even bother to hide the whine. “What?”

“They're icebox pies, silly goose,” you say. “You gotta let ‘em chill.”

Another thing about you is that you're a tease. Form-fitting blouses done up just a button too short and your hair pulled back to show off your soft shoulders. A sweet little wink and a touch of the shoulder as you place a plate in front of him. And now feeding him something delicious only to tell him he has to wait until tomorrow to have more.

Your fingers snapping in front of his face jolt him back to the present. “Huh?”

“I asked if you wanted to lick the spoon,” you say.

Does he wanna lick the spoon? What kind of question is that? He plucks it from your hands. “Is the sky blue? Do bears shit in the woods? Am I the captain?”

You roll your eyes, but you smile. “Gonna stick these in the big cooler and I'll be right back for the other,” you say.

Carefully, you pick up two of the three foil-covered pie tins resting on the counter and turn on your heel.

He watches you closely as you round the corner and out of sight. Such a nice soft ass you've got. He desperately wants to grab it, but the one time you got goosed, you slugged the guy so hard he was out cold for the rest of the day.

Something pink, creamy, and flecked with seeds coats the wooden spoon. He drags his tongue along the back of it and--

Oh. Oh, that is good.

His taste buds scream in ecstasy. The slightest little moan escapes his lips. For the briefest of moments, he thinks it's better than sex and his cock twitches, but he regains his sense of self before going completely mad.

He licks and licks and licks until every little drop of pink, sweet, creamy filling is gone.

Frustration bubbles in his chest. Waiting all night for this is gonna suck. Especially since you probably won't be whipping it out for breakfast.

He is captain, though. He could order you to give it to him. But you'd almost certainly laugh in his face and he really, really doesn't want that.

The shimmer of foil catches his eye. The third pie sits on the counter. Untouched. Uneaten. Mocking him in its creamy deliciousness.

He looks around. You're nowhere to be seen.

...maybe just a little bit.

He scrapes barely half a spoonful from the top. Not enough to be noticeable, just enough to satisfy his sweet tooth.

Mmm. Smooth. Thick. Sweet. Fruity. Delicious.

...a little bit more can't hurt. Then he can wait until tomorrow.

He gets a piece of the fruit itself this time and the squirt of juice on his tongue is enough to make him spoon up another dollop. And then another. And then another.

This is why your pants are so tight, his inner monologue chides. This is why you need a new belt. This is why you wear that thing around your waist. Goddamn hedonist.

They're not that tight, he retorts. And they wouldn't be at all if you weren't such a damn good cook. It's all your fault for putting delicious food in front of him and looking so pretty while doing it.

He turns to lean against the counter, only to stop dead.

You're standing there, eyes wide and brows raised. You point at him, then at the pie tin, then back at him. “Are you... Eating the...?”

“No,” he says quickly. He realizes he's holding the pie tin. “No.”

Something odd glints in your eyes as you approach him. Gingerly, you take the pie and the spoon from his hands. He lets you. You step even closer.

You're so close to him, close enough for him to feel the rise and fall of your breasts. Hell, you're so short compared to him that he can see straight down your shirt.

His heart races. What are you going to do? Throw it out? Throw him out? Punch his lights out? Never speak of this again? 

To his amazement, you do none of those things. Instead, you spoon up a bit more of the pie filling and raise it to his lips. You blink up at him with big doe eyes.

He looks between you and the spoon a few times. This can't be right. You should be furious. He opens his mouth to say something, but it's forgotten as you shove the spoon in his mouth.

Why are strawberries so delicious? Why is he so weak? Why are your breasts so warm and squishy against him?

He swallows it and, as he opens his mouth to breath, you shove another spoonful in. It's just as good the twentieth time.

You offer him another. And another. And another. He accepts them all.

Until he goes to take another and you pull it away. He frowns at you. You pull it back farther and farther. He grabs your wrist and pulls your hand closer. You resist, but he's spent every day of his life trimming sails and hauling cargo.

He gets the spoon into his mouth and claims his prize with a smirk.

That glint in your eyes turns into a blaze. You drop the pie tin and spoon and they hit the floor with a clatter. Pulling your wrist from his grip, you grab him by the cheeks and yank him into a kiss.

He yelps against your lips and you take the opportunity to shove your tongue between them. Licking, lapping, pressing your soft, warm body right up against his.

Only a eunuch could resist this.

He kisses you back with the same fervor, grabbing your ass to lift you up a bit and it's so soft and pliant and perfect that he can't help but dig his fingers in.

Oh, it's everything he dreamed it would be. Your warm lips moving against his, your slick tongue dancing in his mouth, your soft palms gripping his jaw.

You've lapped up all the lingering sweetness in his mouth by the time he runs out of breath. He pushes you away and you whimper, your eyes wide and your shoulders heaving up and down.

Deprived of oxygen, he says something completely, absolutely, utterly brain dead. “Can I touch your tits?”

Instead of slapping him, you nod so hard your updo shakes loose. Curly strands fall in your face.

He blinks. “Wait, really?” You nod harder. “You sure?”

Something in you snaps. He can see it in your eyes. You grab him by the hand and damn near drag him out the door.

A quick trip up the stairs and across the main deck and he's pushing open the door to his quarters. You bustle past him and, once the click of the lock sounds, you grab him by the collar and yank him into another kiss, just as wet and desperate as the last.

He barely has enough time to shuck his coat about you throw him onto the bed, clambering atop him. You're a bit heavier than he expects. Not that he says that to your face, but you’re so light on your feet that he was starting to think you were filled with cotton candy. You're certainly sweet enough.

You yank his hat from his head and toss it aside. His bandana follows and his hair falls around his shoulders.

You suck in a breath. “So pretty.”

He shrugs. “Thanks-- mmph.”

He’s silenced by you standing on your knees to pull his hair out of its pigtails. This requires you to stick your tits in his face and oh my god they're like big marshmallows you smell like cinnamon.

He can't help himself. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you in closer, breathing deeply. So warm, so soft.

You giggle and the vibration makes his face tingle. You pull away to fiddle with your blouse buttons. “Wanna know a secret?” you whisper.

“Is the secret boobs?” Wow, what the hell was that? He needs to stop talking.

Lucky for him, you grin. You open your blouse and a whole lot more than he was expecting spills out. You toss the blouse to the side and plant your hands on your hips. “Va-va-voom.”

He's speechless. Shaken. Struck utterly dumb by the sight before him. All he can do is pull off his gloves and take them in his hands, pushing them, weighing them, squeezing them. There’s just… so much. Round, squishy, bouncy, threatening to surge right out of your lacy bra.

“I am but one man,” he mumbles.

That makes you giggle and that makes them jiggle. Like two sacks of...like a pair of...

...he can't think of a metaphor that isn't unpleasant, so he just sticks his face in there again before something else stupid comes out of his mouth. You laugh even more and it vibrates against his cheeks and his -- that... -- and if God struck him down at this very second he would die a happy man.

You let him linger a moment before throwing your weight forward to push him onto the bed. He whimpers like a kicked puppy as you pull away.

You nibble your lip and knit your brow up as you fumble with his belt. “I showed you mine, now you show me yours.”

He's flattered, but it's the only thing keeping his stomach in check. That can't come off yet.

He takes your hands in his own. “What's the rush, beautiful?” he says. He brings them to his lips, first one, then the other. He gently kisses your knuckles, your palms, your wrists. “This is your show. We got all night.”

You're cute when you huff. You're even cuter when your face screws up into a pout. You yank your hands away and plant them on your soft hips. “Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting for this?” you whine.

That throws him for a loop and a half. You've wanted him too? Someone as clever and cute and talented as you wanted... him? He's not used to that. Not used to that at all.

He's stunned just long enough for you to get his belt open. You move on to his vest straps next, making quick work of those. He sucks his stomach in just as you pull it open.

Your eyes widen, and you break into a grin as they sweep up and down his torso. “Oh, hell-o,” you say, voice breathless.

He's bright red, he just knows it. “Hi,” he replies dumbly. He hopes the strain in his voice isn't too obvious.

You grin even wider. Your fingers ghost up his sides -- thank God it's his feet that are ticklish -- right up to his pecs. You give them a squeeze, not unlike how he palmed your breasts a few moments ago. The slightest of squeaks escapes him.

“I knew you were hiding something good,” you say. You give his nipples a tweak -- he squeaks louder -- and trail your fingers down to his waistband. “Let's see what else you've been keeping from me.”

He knows you're talking about his dick. He panics all the same.

He shoots a hand out to kill the light -- that should buy him some time -- and throws his weight into flipping you over. You squeal as he pins you to the bed and yanks your pants off.

And then he realizes. Your breasts? They're proportional.

Beneath him is the most lovely expanse of body he's ever seen. Soft and warm and squishy and made of convex curves that flow from gentle arms and smooth shoulders right into a pair of plump hips and shapely thighs.

He can't form words. He can't form thoughts. All he can do is stare with his mouth dropped open. What else can you do when you're in the presence of the divine?

And then he sees your face. Your eyes wide and unsure as they dart around the room. Your lips pressed together into a terse line. 

“What?” he asks.

The line scrunches to the side. “I'm bigger than I ought to be, I know,” you say. You sound as if you've said it a thousand times.

He gets mad. He can't help it. It's what he does. “Are you shitting me?”

You flinch a little, though more out of surprise than fear. “N-No, I don't--”

He wants to say so many things. About how this is perfection. About how you are the most gorgeous human being he's ever laid eyes on. About how this is everything he's ever wanted in life. How you're everything and you shouldn't be so damn sheepish.

But he can't get it out. All that comes out is a raspy, rude, “Shut the fuck up.”

You stare at him in shock. And not the fun shock. It's the kind where you're not sure if you've stepped on eggshells or not.

Fuck it. No time for words. He grabs your thighs and pulls you forward, yanking your panties off and sweet holy shit you don't shave down there how could you possibly be any more perfect?

His mouth waters. His cock throbs. He dives in. He drags his tongue up your inner thighs, soft and smooth and sweet as that pie.

“Captain--!” A nip to the tender flesh turns the exclamation into a squeak.

“I said shut up,” he says between kisses.

Finally, you stop talking. You only pant and moan as he shoves his face into your pussy, lapping at your already sopping cunt. Did he do this? Are you this wet because of him?

He can't help it. He stuffs his hand down the front of his pants to fondle himself. Like the desperate bastard he is, his cock’s hard and leaking already.

He grinds against his palm as he gorges himself on you. Licking, sucking, swirling, punctuating with a few nips for good measure. It's all harmonized by the most beautiful sounds he's ever heard flowing from your lips, high-pitched and whiny.

He's not sure how long has passed when you grab his head and push him away. Time flows strangely between your thighs.

You've got a crazed look in your eyes again. “I want you inside me.”

He wants to say something clever, something cool and on brand for him, like it's not time for the finale yet or but my leading lady isn't satisfied.

But that would delay being inside you and he's too addled to think of anything. He jumps to his feet and wriggles out of his trousers and shorts. If he were more aware of himself, he'd be humiliated by just how much he has to shimmy and dance around to get them off his hips, but there's not enough blood in his brain to be self-conscious.

He kicks them away in whatever direction. Something crashes to the floor and he doesn't care. He looks back to your beautiful face--

You're wide-eyed as you look at him. He follows your gaze, right down to his--

In all the excitement, he's not sucking it in anymore.

Now it's his turn to be sheepish. He sucks it in again. But he can't hold it. Too much blood in his cock. He tries again with the same result.

Unfortunately for him, it's drawn your attention even more. Off comes your bra, and you don't take your eyes off his stomach the whole time.

Now he really can't think anymore. They're just so pretty and perfect. You're so pretty and perfect. He doesn't deserve this. This is a hell of a mismatch if ever there was one. You, divinity in the flesh. Him, a fat, dirty old clown.

This is a joke. It has to be. Someone put you up to this and now you're gonna back out and he's gonna let you because you deserve better so he better just rip the bandage off now and--

“Out,” he spits. “Get out.”

You blink at him in shock, then your face hardens. You speak with the firmness of a queen who's sick of her courtiers’ bullshit. “Get over here and get on top of me.”

You're mocking him. You gotta be. There’s no other explanation. “I said--”

You look him in the eyes. Something dangerous glitters there. “Buggy, get the fuck on top of me.”

It comes out at a hoarse yell. “Stop mocking me!”

You spring upwards and, with that wild strength that surprises him every time, you throw him on the bed. It squeaks as he bounces -- actually, that might have come from him.

You've got a look on your face he can only describe as murderous. “I did not wait two months for you to chicken out,” you say. You clamber onto him. “I did not wait two fucking months for you to finally man up and say something only for you to get self-conscious!”

Fear, anger, and arousal battle for control of his body. Arousal wins. You are hot as a griddle when you're mad.

You sit yourself on his belly, just above his cock. It twitches against your ass and he's sure it's made of clouds and he groans.

“Look at me,” you say.

He doesn't. He can't. He doesn't want to see the scorn that's surely in your eyes.

You learn forward and grab his chin, squeezing his cheeks and forcing him to look. Even in the dim light, he can see the sheen of sweat on your face and the rise and fall of your chest as you pant.

“If you want me to leave, I will,” you say, “but you will never get this chance again.”

No. No no no no. He wants you. He wants you so bad. He's never had perfection this close and it's never wanted him as much as you seem to.

“Do you want me to leave?” you ask firmly.

He shakes his head so hard it hurts.

You don't grin. You simply release his chin and lift yourself up. You lower yourself on his cock and, as he watches it disappear, inch by slick inch into your hot, wet pussy, the battle is over.

He doesn't care if this is a trick anymore. He's going to get his.

He grabs your thighs and pulls you down onto him, fingers sinking into the smooth flesh. You gasp as he bottoms out, gripping the swell of his hips. He doesn't care. They're called love handles for a reason.

And then you start to bounce.

It starts in your legs. Pumping your thighs to lift yourself up and drop down onto his cock. The jolt ripples through your whole body, from your thighs to your belly to your breasts.

He's transfixed. So transfixed that he doesn't even notice you grabbing his pecs, squishing and squashing them between your gentle fingers. You tweak his nipples and he damn near howls.

He can't let you have all the fun. He pops his hand off to swirl his fingers around your clit.

But you don't cry out or moan. You start babbling. Something about eating and how hot he is and how much you love that he loves your cooking and it's all interspersed with pleasant-sounding gibberish. But he doesn't hear a word of it. You're too warm and slick and it goes in one ear and it the other.

But the sounds. God, the sounds of him sliding in and out of you. Wet and disgusting and it makes his mouth water and his cock leak and that just makes it wetter--

The slap of skin on skin and wet on wet and his moans and your chattering all mingle into a delicious symphony. 

But it stops all too soon. Your breath hitches and you bend at the waist, singing his name like a songbird, the same little melody over and over. “Buggy, Buggy, Buggy...!”

His name dissolves into little yips and gasps as your cunt flutters around his cock. It's so good. Better than treasure. Better than adrenaline. Better than a full belly after a hard day's work--

He realizes he's not wearing a condom. Fuck. “Where ya want it?” he grunts.

You don't hesitate. “In me,” you say between gasps.

In you? Inside you? Spilling his hot, wet cum into your hot, wet cunt? Your cunt? Soaking it? Seeding it? Making it even messier and sloppier and filling you up so much that--

He almost pops right then and there, but he bites his lip. “Nuh-uh. Where?”

“In me!” you spit.

He whines the most unmanly of whines. He will. He won't. He wants to. He can't. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Captain,” you whimper, “Buggy, please...”

He looks up at you. Your hands on his chest, your breasts heaving with each breath, your little belly rising and falling, your luscious thighs on either side of his hips, your lips dropped open as you pant, your bush surrounding his fingers--

God damn it.

He throws you to the side as he pops like a champagne cork. A few drops end up on you, but most of it splatters onto the underside of his belly, where it's started obeying gravity.

One hand grips the sheets and the other grips something warm and his hips buck and his head swims and his mouth makes utterly pathetic noises. Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes.

He crashes back to earth like a meteor strike. All he can see is white as he flops back onto the mattress, gasping for breath.

He has no idea how long it takes for him to recover. But something soft tickles the knuckles of his detached hand. A shudder racks him as he turns his head towards you.

Post-orgasm haze still clouds your eyes, but they're big and round as a doe’s as you cradle his hand close to his face. You press your lips to his knuckles.

He gives a weak smile. “Hi.”

You giggle. God, he loves that giggle. He wishes he could hear it every day. He'd put it in a sea shell if he could, carry it around in his pocket and press it to his ear whenever he feels lonely. Or spin it into cotton candy. It's certainly light and sweet enough. Or whip it up onto a foam and fold it into batter like he watched you do that one time for cake...

His stomach growls. He needs to stop thinking about food.

You kiss his knuckles again, still smiling so very sweetly. “Are you alright?”

“Fuckin’ amazing,” he mumbles. It's the truth.

Detaching his other hand, he feels around on the floor. There's a towel here somewhere... Unless he threw it on the chair... Or over the folding screen...

He finds it slung over the door of his wardrobe. He offers it to you, but you shake your head. “After you.”

Suit yourself. He mops his belly up as you watch. Shit, this was a big one.

Satisfied, he tosses the towel away. He rolls over to take you in his arms, but he finds nothing. You're standing up, pulling his coat on and closing it around your front.

“Get over here,” he says. “That's an order.”

“I gotta clean up,” you say.

He panics. He can't help it. His voice quivers like a child's. “Don’t leave. Please.”

You give him a kind look that almost makes him cry. “I’ll be right back,” you coo. “I promise.”

He doesn't want to be alone. Not now. Tears prick at his eyes and his lip quivers. But you're out the door before he can stop you.

You're not coming back. He knows it. He disappointed you. How could he not? You're beautiful. You're divine. You're perfect.

And what is he? A fat old clown.

He lays there, shivering in the cold air, too afraid to move. Too aware of his shortcomings. Too aware of every flaw, every defect, every deficiency. His temper. His teeth. His nose. His appetite. His everything.

The door opens. The moonlight frames your silhouette for a moment before you close the door behind you.

He nearly sobs with relief. You don't notice, thankfully, as you shuck his coat.

He launches his arms at you as he sits upright, pulling you into an embrace as he falls back down. He lays you to the side, slipping under your arm and tucking his head in the crook between your chin and chest.

You thread your fingers through his hair. “Don't tell me you thought I wasn't coming back.”

He murmurs something he forgets as soon as it leaves his lips. You're so soft. So warm. So comfortable. And he's so exhausted.

You giggle. You kiss his forehead and slide your fingers through his hair. “Bonwee, sha.”

He has no idea what that means, but you say it with such warmth that it must be something good. He snuggles up close to you.

Rocked by the sea and calmed by your heartbeat, he drifts off.

---

He sleeps well, but he stirs a few times.

The first is when you shift out from under him, mumbling something in a language he can't place. You roll onto your side, your back to him. He doesn't like that at all and pulls you in to be the little spoon. You squeak. It's cute. He doesn't care that his belly presses against your back. 

He stirs again when his arm falls asleep and he rolls onto his side. You follow him this time. You press yourself right up against his back, breasts and belly and thighs squishing against him. You're so warm.

The final time is as the gray light of dawn slips through the windows. He's shaken from a dream and he grumbles.

“I gotta go get started on breakfast,” you whisper. “Just wanted to let you know I wasn't lovin’ and leavin’.”

That's so sweet of you. “You're so sweet,” he mumbles sweetly.

You giggle. “See you in a few hours.”

You kiss the tip of his nose and he's not even upset.

===

You had a lovely night, but you're walking a bit funny and it's making your usual bustling around the galley just difficult enough to be annoying. And the visions of your stark naked captain filling your head are making it even harder.

You're a very simple woman, like your mother before you. You like men. You like food. You like men who like food. You especially like men who like your food.

Captain Buggy's a man. Captain Buggy likes food. And he loves your food, if his constant hovering in the galley is anything to go on. And he loves it a lot and it's showing.

The memory of him lying beneath you, his warm hips against your thighs, his belly wobbling as you bounce atop him, his head thrown back in bliss, surprises you just as you're tossing a flapjack. It slams into the ceiling and stays there.

Your fellow cook, a swarthy fellow going by Bloomer, casts the new ceiling decor an odd look. He turns it on you. “You alright, girl?”

You know what? Screw this. Everyone else can handle breakfast. “I'm gonna go wake up the captain,” you say. “How's he like his coffee?”

Milk and two cubes of sugar, he tells you. You put in cream and three cubes. Man's gotta get his strength back from last night, you tell yourself as you set off across the deck. 

You knock three times on the door. No answer. You knock harder. Still nothing. You take that as a sign he may be dead and enter just in case.

Captain Buggy is, in fact, quite alive, if not also naked. He's in front of the mirror... or his face is, anyways. His body is turned completely around as he examines the reflection of his rear. He grabs a handful, thick fingers sinking into the squish. He gives it a jiggle and it wobbles.

You don't blame him. It's a great ass. Perfect for grabbing and digging your nails into. Next time, you're making him get on top so you can do just that. 

But you prefer his front. That's where all the good shit is. Soft, muscular pecs, perfect for grabbing and groping, covered in a dusting of hair that trails down to his soft belly.

His hands go there next, pinching his sides. He gives them a shake and his belly bounces. 

That little zing shoots up your gut and into your throat, that one you always get around men like him. That same one as when you first saw him from across the diner, draining a pitcher of beer. The same one you had last night when you walked in on him eating pie filling. And now, watching him preening after a wild romp.

...or you thought he was preening. He turns his body around and as his hands go to his face -- he's got a stronger jawline than you'd expected when he's barefaced -- you notice his laugh lines deepen. He lets out a grunt of disgust as his lips curl.

You frown. He's saying ugh as if you couldn't keep your hands off of him last night. Coaxing him in closer with pie filling just so you could feel his body molding against yours. Grabbing his cheeks and yanking him in for a kiss you'd been craving for months. Dragging him to his cabin and fucking yourself on him while you dug your nails into whatever soft flesh you could grab.

You close the door with a firm check of the hips. The slam startles him, but he calms as he sees you. Somewhat. There's still an uneasy look in his eye.

“G’morning,” he says. A little blush blooms across his cheeks. He avoids eye contact.

He'd be cute if he wasn't pathetic. You set the coffee down on the nearest surface and wrap your arms around his waist, resting your hands on the swell just above his hips and resting your cheek between his shoulder blades.

“Thank you for finally taking the hint,” you say into his skin.

He chuckles, a low, vibrating thrum. “I never miss a cue, baby.”

Lies. You've been trying everything. Flirting. Making his favorite food. You even went braless one day on a supply run with him and he didn't even blink. Idiot.

“Then why'd it take you so damn long?”

He scoffs. “Had to make sure I wasn't seeing things,” he mumbles.

He's so pathetic. Like a wet cat. You can't help but squeeze his sides--

He jumps away from you like you gave him an electric shock. “Stop it!” he spits.

You blink. “Stop what?”

“Stop-- Stop mocking me!”

You blink a few more times. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

The flush deepens along with his scowl. “Quit touching me like that.”

Not what he was saying last night. “Like what?”

“Stop grabbing my--” He huffs. “I know I’m fat. Quit rubbing it in.”

Pardon? Did you hear that correctly? Does he know who he's talking to? You try to keep your tone even, but you were never good at that. “Permission to speak freely, Captain?”

He blanches. “...No.”

Too bad. You grab him by the waist and throw him onto the bed. He yelps as he bounces, then once again as you straddle his waist.

“Buggy. Darling. Cher,” you say. “Do you really think I would have fucked you if I didn't think you were hot shit?”

He simmers like a boiling pot with the lid still on. “Maybe!”

Pour l’amour de Dieu, c’est un contraieuse et un tête de cabri et pourquoi ce clown so fucking stupid?

You scoot backwards, kissing your way down his chest. Each one gets a tiny grunt from him until you get to his belly. He growls and tries to roll away, but you hold fast. You gently kiss just above his navel, then the tuft of blue hair right below it.

You peer up at him. He peers back, brow knit up, questioning you.

You press your face into his navel and blow a raspberry against his skin.

Buggy squeal-laughs. You've never heard him make that noise before and it's very cute. You do it again and he devolves into laughter.

“Sto-o-op!” he cackles.

You do not. You do it again and again until he's wheezing and not scowling any more. You stare up at him, fingering the tuft of hair below his navel.

He comes down slowly, cackles turning to giggles to breathless gasps. He finally sees you staring. “What?”

“Feeling better?” you ask. He huffs, but he does nod. “Good. Now stop being mean to my favorite captain.”

He frowns a bit at that. “Who’s that? Alvida? When'd she come up?” You keep staring at him. He blinks. “Wait, you mean--?”

Gros couillion. “No, the other guy I fucked last night,” you say. He bristles. Fuck’s sake. “Yes, you!”

He blinks again. The flush returns. “You mean that?”

“I wouldn't be on top of your naked-ass body if I didn't.” You place lean in close, the tip of your nose bumping his. “And you have a very nice body, Captain.”

Just for emphasis, you grab his side, right at the fleshiest part, and give a hard squeeze. He jumps, but nods.

He tries to dive in for a kiss, but you pull away. If you do that, you'll be here all morning. You stand up, offering him your hands. “C’mon, breakfast is ready,” you say.

“I'm not hungry.” His stomach growls. He glares at it. “Shut up.”

Trump card time. “Guess I'll just have to feed all those beignets to Richie, then.”

His eyes go wide. “...you made bin-yays?”

He still can't pronounce it right, but he's getting there. “Sure did,” you say coolly. You examine your nails. “Won't be good for much longer.”

His stomach growls again. “And that pie?” 

“Should be good to go, but you better be quick. They'll go fast.”

He jumps to his feet and licks his lips. “Well, keep some for me! Lemme-- Lemme get dressed and I'll be right down.”

“Don't take too long,” you say.

You turn to leave, but he grabs your hand. With a yank and a twirl, he pulls you flush against him and into a kiss.

You melt right into it. Rough lips move against yours, his warm body molds against you, strong arms holding you tight, belly pressing against yours... his nose squishing into your cheek. Wonderful, all of it.

You separate with a pop. He grins at you and wipes his wrist along his lips. “Didn’t think I was gonna let you leave without that?”

You blush. Now he decides to be slick. “Just get dressed.”

You twirl him around and, with a flat hand, you swat his ass. Just to see it quiver. The slap echoes in the small room and he jumps, but you can't stick around to see the look on his face.

You've got work to do.

---

Special thanks to my bf, Meg, and Ollie for beta-ing!

To the Mastahpost | To the Tip Jar

[lokicraft]

Self indulgent idea about task force 141 rescuing a wrongly-kidnapped scientist/researcher reader. Gender neutral reader, implied American reader implied violence and torture, implications about the reader looking young (I imagine the reader being between 20 and 30 years old). I see it as future tf141xreader, but feel free to imagine otherwise and/or take this idea and run with it as you please. MDNI.

————

Imagine you are a government researcher. Technically a government employee but you are pretty low on the ladder, just starting out at a research laboratory on a small military base. You are so excited to start working with your supervisor/PI, a very influential scientist who has their fingers in a lot of research pies (some more secret than others).

But you have nothing to do with the secret stuff. You’re more interested in environmental research (of which the military does have to pay at least a little bit of attention to, so you work with what you get).

You’re getting out of the lab late one evening, having to stay even after your PI left to clean glassware (your least favorite task). You lock the door to the research building and walk to your car, only to see someone else parked next to you. The hood of their car is open and they look distressed. You don’t recognize them but it’s not like you know everyone on base. So when they ask you for a jump start you agree and start rooting around your car to pop the hood. You just got your hand around that pesky lever when you feel a sharp pain in the back of your head and everything goes dark.

————

You wake up in a dingy concrete room with your arms and legs tied to an equally dingy chair. You are shocked, panicking and in pain, but through the ringing in your ears you hear shouting from outside the room.

“What do you mean that’s not Dr. Scaffer?” An angry accented voice shouts.

“It was bad intel!” Another voice insists, same accent as far as your fuzzy brain can register, “we did not get any physical description, only that they would be the last one out!”

“A head research scientist with top secret clearance won’t look like a kid who just got out of college!” You hear a muffled bang - your heart stops beating in your chest - but the voice continues, dismissive, “I have to do everything myself.”

He enters the room.

————

Two hours later, not that you can really keep track, you are left alone again. Significantly more injured from what you just went through (your brain cannot even ponder the word “torture” through the unceasing static of your thoughts), you realize that you are going to die. Whoever kidnapped you grabbed the wrong person, and unless they want to know about the water quality of the watershed around base you don’t have any information they want. You are no use as a hostage, and you are going to die. You can only hope it will be quick and painless—

You can’t breathe, you were never good at handling stress.

At least when you’re unconscious it doesn’t hurt anymore.

————

Recovering VIPs is well within their capabilities, Gaz thought to himself as he recounted the brief they were given a short two hours ago. But usually if it was a researcher they were rescuing then their area of expertise would be weapons technology, or infectious diseases, or something that’s not water chemistry. It’s not his job to judge, it’s his job to get you back home where you belong. However the judgmental voice in the back of his mind can’t help but kick in, remembering the profile photo they were provided of you.

“They’re quite a cutie, no?”

Gaz is knocked out of his thoughts when Soap catches up to him, both fully geared up and heading to airstrip. Wheels up is in 15 minutes, and Gaz is sure their Captain and Lieutenant  are already in the transport. While Ghost is probably just sitting and “brooding” as Gaz likes to call it, he gives Price a 50/50 on being on the phone with Laswell. Their Captain probably wants to know how a young researcher got kidnapped from an American military base only to end up as a hostage in Russia. Hell, Laswell probably wants to know that too.

“Time ta go save us a bonnie researcher!” Soap proclaims picking up the pace and rushing in front of Gaz. It’s obvious Johnny shares the same thoughts as Kyle when it comes to your appearance, only one is better at keeping those thoughts to themselves.

“Yeah let’s make sure we get them back alive” Gaz responds, his sharp mind working overtime to calculate how long your captors will keep you alive once realizing you are not a spring of top secret information nor a high profile bargaining chip.

“Of course we will mate,” Soap declares, his sober tone almost catching Gaz off guard, “with LT back on the roster we’re at full strength again, n’one left behind.”

Gaz agrees with the sentiment, and taps Soap on the chest lightly as they approach the transport.

“No one left behind”

————

Thanks so much for reading, this is my first time writing something like this so I’m still trying to get the character’s ‘voices’ right and all that. If you decide to build off this idea please tag me! I appreciate y’all 💚

[tarjapearce]

Ways You Propose To Miguel #1

"Miguel?"

He was across the room, typing in data as you sat in your chair, legs stretched on the table.

"Baja los pies de la mesa.*"

Ignoring him, you started tinkering with an old broken watch.

"Can we talk?"

"Aren't we already?" Pouting at his response you sighed and put the watch on the table as you stood.

"Yeah, but it's polite to pay attention to the person you are talking to, cielito." You spoke as you hugged him from behind. His hands faltered what they were doing and it was his turn to sigh.

"What?" He saved the data and turned to face you, mask disappearing. His so ever stoic face receiving you.

If it came to comparison, you both were so different, personality wise. He liked being alone and sulk on his past, but you always made sure to make him understand that he wasn't alone. Sometimes your personalities clashed, making everyone around you uncomfortable by the tension.

However, mostly of the days were spent in harmony as everyone did their part.

"Why so serious?"

"I'm busy."

"The Spider Verse is doing fine."

"That's a stupid name."

"And so is the...Poly aracnid something that is impossible to pronounce." you chuckled and stood before him.

"Though you were in another universe, doing your job."

"Ohh, Boss is pissy today." You took his large hands in your smaller ones and smiled.

"I just wanted to see my favorite grumpy spider man."

"You saw me, now can I go back to work?" His hands left yours, and you sighed.

"Is something wrong?"

"Not particularly."

"Alright, whatcha working on?"

"A new watch prototype."

"What's wrong with the last one?"

He didn't replied, rather began in typing again.

Patience, patience, patience.

You were already used to his antics by this point. After all, it was your patience and caring for him that made you earn a spot in his heart. It wasn't easy, but it was all worth it.

"O'Hara"

He didn't reply and just looked at you with an blank expression. To his surprise you started dancing, with your hands up, wiggling here and there, his eyebrow rising.

"What are you doing?"

You giggled as you started a weak attempt into twerking, making him frown in confusion

"Isn't it Obvious? I'm seducing you."

You returned to the hands in the air

"Stop. And it's not female spiders that do it."

"Oh, will you dance to seduce me?" You couldn't help but wiggle your eyebrows at him, he just rolled his eyes and gave a tiny smile.

"I won't leave you alone until I have your full attention."

"I need to work-"

You went back to dancing, he pinched the bridge of his nose, asking for patience whoever above.

"And I won't stop seducing you with my aracnid dance"

"You're ridiculous."

"Yet, you love me."

Holding his hands in defeat you stopped and smiled.

"Te han dicho que aveces eres demasiado?*"

"Too much for who?"

"What do you want?"

"Annoy you."

"Done."

"And ask you something."

You chuckled and sat on the chair nearby him. Silence lingering in the air, patience running short on his end, but seeing you fiddling with your fingers, something he noticed you'd do when nervous, decided to indulge on your antics.

"How long have we been... eh... Together?"

His frown deepened slightly and he crossed arms, the question suddenly throwing him out of guard.

"Are you not happy?"

"What? That's not what-"

"You met another person in another dimension?"

You laughed at his sudden words.

"No, baboso* Wanna listen first?" You took his hands in yours again.

"Im asking you. Por cuánto tiempo hemos estado juntos?"

"Un par de años, ya. Por?"

"Do you... wanna get married?"

You smiled at him, genuine, sincerely as he squeezed your hands. He just looked at you like you had broke the Canon itself.

"What?"

"I asked, if you'd like to get married."

His eyes softened and he looked down, your heart flipped and you let his hands go.

"I... Guess not? Sorry. Too soon?"

"It's not that."

"Then what is it?"

"Te me adelantaste*"

Your heart leaped into your chest as a warm feeling spreaded all over you.

"Really? Like... Really really?"

"Really really."

"The dance worked" You mumbled proudly and he just pulled you closer, gently.

"It was everything but that dance"

You giggled as you kissed him.

"Admit it, it worked."

"Si tu lo dices. Ok."

"Now, now. Let's do things the right way."

You suddenly dropped into one knee, clearing your throat as he just stared at you with a hidden amusement in his eyes.

"Miguel O'Hara, Mi cielo, mi amor, mi arañita gruñona, mi niño, mi vida."

He tried with all his might to keep a straight face, but he just couldn't, chuckling to himself he stared down at you.

"Te casarías conmigo?"

"Claro que sí. Solo no bailes de nuevo."

He pulled you on your feet as you put a ring on his hand.

"If it's too small I will send-"

"It's perfect."

---------

Baja los pies de la mesa.* - Get your feet off the table

Te han dicho que aveces eres demasiado?— Have you been told that sometimes you're too much?

baboso - Dummy

Por cuánto tiempo hemos estado juntos?" - For how long we've been together?

"Un par de años, ya. Por?" —A couple of years now, why?

Te me adelantaste- You beat me to it.

Si tu lo dices - If you say so

Mi cielo, mi amor, mi arañita gruñona, mi niño, mi vida - My sky, my love, my grumpy spider, my deary, my life.

Te casarías conmigo?" - Would you marry me?

"Claro que sí. Solo no bailes de nuevo— Of course. Just don't dance again.

[bullet-prooflove]

Bad decisions prompt

34. You're a fuckin bitch, hope you know that shit

With richie?

Tagging: @kmc1989 @lostinwonderland314 @fallout-girl219 @wabi-sabi1090 @morgthemagpie

Companion piece to:

86 - Richie 86es a patron at The Bear.

The Better Man - Richie confronts your ex-husband.

‘You're a fucking bitch, I hope you know that shit’ is written on the note Richie finds trapped under the windscreen wiper on your car. He’d been heading to his own vehicle to run an errand for The Bear when he’d caught sight of it fluttering in the breeze.

Rage courses through him, the paper crumpling in his hand as he marches back into the house and sets it down on the breakfast bar where you’re stirring sugar into your coffee.

It’s Sunday morning and you’re barely awake, your hair is a complete birds nest from the past few hours that Richie has spent ruining you and you’re wearing one of his t-shirts with a clean pair of black panties.

He can tell you aren’t surprised which makes him realise this isn’t the first one that’s crossed your path. It’s just the first one that he knows about.

“Who is it?” He asks you despite the fact he already has a pretty good idea of the kind of coward that would pull this shit. “And how many more are there?”

You sigh as you tilt your head up towards him, your lips still swollen from his kisses.

“There were three.” You tell him. “Each one left in a place where you could see them because he wants you to have a reaction.”

The reaction being that he punches your ex-husband in the face and then gets sent straight to jail because Richie, he’s on his third strike. You can’t stand the thought of that so you’ve been throwing them out, long before he even lays eyes on them.

“And this is what?” Richie asks you, trying to figure out what the point of all this is. “Him trying to get back at us for 86ing him from the restaurant?”

You clear your throat as your gaze lowers to your coffee cup and it’s in that moment Richie realises that there’s something else you’ve been keeping from him.

“I heard from a mutual friend that he was going to get the reviewer to tank the restaurant so I stepped in.” You say quietly as you wrap your hands around your coffee cup to warm them. “I may have encouraged him it would not be in his best interests to do so.”

Richie rubs his palm across his mouth. He never envisioned your personal lives would interfere with the business they’ve poured their heart and souls into. A review like that, in a paper that prestigious…

It would have killed The Bear completely.

“When I was planning to divorce him, I had a PI follow him so I could get some extra leverage just in case he decided to challenge the petition. I ended up with some compromising pictures of him with an investor’s wife, ones that could destroy his business if they found their way into that investor’s hands.” You inform Richie as you take a sip from your cup. “I went to his office last week to remind him of what I had in my possession and what could happen if he kept trying to fuck with The Bear.”

Richie doesn’t know what to say. He knows how hard it must have been to face Peter after the shit he put you through. The fact you marched into his office, for him, for his livelihood…

If he wasn’t already married to you, he’d be on his knees, begging to put a ring on that finger.

“I’m guessing the notes are his way of trying to take away the one thing that actually matters to me.” You say, your fingers smoothing out the paper before your gaze flickers up to meet his. “Do me a favour and don’t play into it, I know this pisses you off but I can’t stand the thought of living without you and I don’t think I’m equipped for a jail break.”

He smiles then, despite himself, despite the situation. The Richie he was back when the two of you met would already be in cuffs by now for murdering the son of a bitch, this Richie has worked on his anger management issues, he knows he doesn’t want Eva to spend the next few years visiting him in prison. It’s another testament to just how far he’s come since you stepped into his life.

“Don’t worry…” He promises you, his forehead coming to rest upon yours as he squeezes your hip lightly. “I won’t let him take me away from you.”

“Good.” You say, your fingertips trailing over the beard that lines his jaw. “Because we’ve made a pretty great life together and I don’t want anything to ever fuck that up.”

Love Richie? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[diejager]

can we have more of phoenix! reader? 🥺 i feel like they (as a baby bird) would build a nest on Price's belly cuz he's SUPER WARM and also he breathes out fire and that's perfect for the lil birby

Cw: reader being cheeky, teasing, biting/pecking, tell me if I missed any.

Having you on… ”leave” was hard when you were right there, clicking and chirping from your high perch on Price’s head, watching them being treated by another medic with your black eyes. They were reluctant - Ghost especially - to be touched and cared by someone else, hesitant to accept her tender hands and muted sighs at their stubbornness. It irked them even more when you chirped on and on, cackling at them after they grumbled, beating your wings and sending sparks from your newly-grown feathers around you, amber lights burning within seconds.

And the worst of all, was how willing you were to being handled by her, preening and pushing your chest out, your orange feathers puffing up in a show of dignity under her loving gaze. They - all but Price - glared on, witnesses to you nuzzling against your replacement’s cheek, your head bumping the curve of her lips when she placed a small kiss atop your curled mane. Perhaps it was jealousy that boiled in their stomachs, an anger at not being able to coddle you and being envious about such affection given to others rather than them. 

Fortunately, she returned you to Price’s waiting hands, craddling you in his warm palms, fingers curled carefully to keep you unharmed and away from his claws despite your cheeky bites at them, clawed feet wrapping around his thumbs while you bit him. Even in your small and vulnerable state, you were still so cheeky —a bastard, really, playing their hearts, knowing full well they would never stop you. They figured you’d stay as small as you were until the next day, where you’d keep growing and maturing until you reached your peak, a beauty to admire and bewilder at —or so Price said. 

Within the next week, the clock striking the start of a new one, you’d lost your curled and fluffy feathers, the protective layer to keep you warm, and had started growing long and silken ones, coloured a majestic scarlet and gold. You could fly rather than hop around, your little feet rarely taking you far, and you took full pleasure of landing wherever you wanted. Largely Price’s stomach, the rumbling fire within him keeping him alive - a burning core, his beating heart - worked well to replaced the nest you’d usually need, nestled over the fold of his abdomen and happily sighing.

Then your feathers grew out, longer and sturdier, the ends curled upwards, your crown of scarlet feathers making you look noble from your perch (the one Price took out of storage in your closet and placed in the rec room), head held high and lean body still and watchful. You were, exactly as Price had promised, a beauty to the eye, the noble phoenix cloaked in fire and royalty in the grey and gloomy base. A taste of vibrant life within these cold walls, enchanting with your chirpy songs, healing with your little tears and surprising strength. And yet, you were still the cheeky bastard you were as a chick, a cackle rippling through your throat when they fumbled around, trying to catch you after you stole things right out of their hands. 

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mul-pi @danielle143 @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @randominstake @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @call-me-nyxx @sans-chara @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @thigh-o-saur @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce @sobbingnshtting

[fernpetals]

In This House #3

Masterlist

Yandere John Wick x Reader The library in the house is a place of solace. Perhaps not as comforting as the room dedicated to your skills with the pen, but close. The second-best. The library, though, has no line drawn to keep John out. No corner of the house has it.

Your personal study used to be but since your last attempt, John has broken yet another promise. He gave you his word, the study would be your space and yours alone. He promised he wouldn't step foot in it if you didn't want him to. But the promise, a 'privilege' as he makes all his false promises seem, was taken away.

So, it does not really matter whether you are in the library, the study, or the bedroom, John can walk in anytime, anywhere he pleases. "What are you reading?"

Of course, he is here. Looming over to catch a glimpse of the story that has kept her occupied all evening. "The Yellow Wallpaper." You respond quietly.

He hums before languidly rounding over the couch and taking a seat.

"Do you feel trapped?"

You do not answer, just glance at him. His deep, dark eyes try to read you, rip off your veils, and your walls like he has always done.

"Who's fault is that?" He raises an eyebrow

You are surprised at the lack of flare in you. No anger, no surprise, or even frustration. You are finally accepting that he will never truly acknowledge that he has brought the two where you both are.

"Keep telling yourself that," You whisper to yourself.

You feel him stiffen beside you, you feel the weight of his gaze. The glare that promises consequences. But you are not bothered anymore. How worse can it get?

-----

The Reader's Cafe.

A typical name, for a typical place. Stuffed with books at every corner except the counter, behind which the magic of teas, coffees and mocktails happens, along with little snacks like sandwiches, cookies, pies, fresh buns and every other lovely thing that goes perfectly with the suggested drink in the menu, put right before the price.

You like tea along with cookies, and sometimes, simply the beverage. This place is convenient---blocks away from your home, warm, cosy ---though stuffy during summers sometimes, the cafe is your little bubble where you can read.

You are halfway through Blake's 'Songs of Innocence', casually looking up at the shelves surrounding you for the 'Songs of Experience'. Reading every twin poem by Blake has a thrill of its own,. 'The Lamb' and 'The Tyger', for instance.

"Sir, I'm sorry, but there are no pets allowed in the cafe."

"I understand, but, it will take only a minute, I will keep him leashed."

Usually, you do not care. Usually. But you have been distracted all day, and this conversation floats in with a 'woof' in between an you find yourself getting up and following the voices.

Right at the entrance is the same man you stumbled across weeks ago, and his adorable companion.

"How about this, you take back this book, lend me the one I want and fill in the records? I will leave him home when I return."

He is a soft-spoken man, with perhaps softer eyes. Sweet whirls of brown. Dark, brown, almost matching his black hair. The woman hesitates before asking-

"Which book it is?"

"Songs of Experience."

You perk up at that, taking a few more steps forward and catching his attention.

"Uh..."

Well, even though his eyes seem soft...there's still something that makes you squirm.

"Actually, I was looking for that too,"

You are by no means an orator. But the way you struggle to hold his gaze, makes you want to dig up a grave for yourself. He hasn't spoken yet and your throat is parched.

"This one? I just wanted to return it. And get a companion book."

"Songs of Innocence? I was reading it. Here."

You take a few more steps, reaching him and offering the book with your finger still between the pages. His adorable companion his tail furiously as you near him, woofing and trying to reach you. Perhaps he remembers you.

"Oh, no it's alright, I can get it sometime later."

"I've read this before. Please, insist. I was searching for the other anyway. In fact, I suggest that you keep this one too. The twin poems are best read together."

You stop yourself just short of rambling longer. He seems to be a quiet man, and you might be weirding him out. But smiles kindly.

"Then you should keep them." You shake your head, ready to refuse but he beats you to it.

"The next time I find myself here, we both can read the companion pieces."

You do not even realise it when you agree, but you end up going home with both books in your possession. You are going to the bookshop every evening, you decide. Every evening until he appears again.

[bellsartblog]

Sept-ingo day 23: different universe with ingo and ingo and ingo and emmet hop the multiverse by @subway-boss-jericho

ok so, part of this post was made when my thumbs was still healing. i thought if my thumbs couldn't work, i still had my other fingers so i gonna try writing sth >:"))) but i'm like really ass though so :"))) tell me how i do :))) i wanna improve this skill of mine as well for future uses.

𖨠──··· At the train station ···──𖨠

no beta read :"))) it's a reunion fic :)))

This place was.... very familiar. It's circular in shape and crowds of people and trainers were rushing to and from the large arches surrounding this space. How Ingo know which person were trainers and which were not was beyond him. 

Chimes were going on and off every now and then with rumblings of something big going by in between each interval. all of which was behind the wall he was leaning on. Ingo stands to the side of this strange circular place, preferring to stick to the brick walls so that he won't get swept into the crowds of busy people. being in such a chaotic and strange space but he can't help but find himself at peace. 

He stood just a bit taller than he would usually and allowed himself back in Hisui. Peering through the crow, he tries to search for a girl in the similiar survey corp uniform and a white bandana on her head. Akari was the one that brought him here in the first place, but she ran toward the tall pillar in the middle to try and buy some tickets for them both.  No, not Akari. It's Dawn now.   

"I'll be back! don't go anywhere" and she was off before he could deliver his own message. but it has been a while since then so he was getting a bit anxious. Nothing had changed much in the last minutes or so and the anticipation was eating at him. maybe he should go look for her... but going off the established place would make it hard for her to find him if she was already going back- 

"Hello sir!" 

a booming voice shocked him out of his almost spiral. the source of which stood just an arm length from him. Someone that wears the same coat as his! but it was shinier and more well-kept. And his face bored resemblances of his own but.... if he was younger. Was he that old already?  

"May I help you?" 

"Most certainly! I'm Subway Boss Ingo" The man gestured to himself then to his side where another man who looks like his matching copy stood. "And this is my brother, Subway Boss Emmet! We were hoping-" 

to be honest, most of what this fellow said went over ingo's head because Emmet was all he cared about right now. It was him, the man in white! His hand reached out on its own but with closer inspection, ingo slowly noticed and he withdrew his hand.  

There were smaller inconsistencies, the strips on his coat were cyan when it was supposed to be brownish-red like his. And the emblem, one of the signifiers that helped him identify himself, was different also! Two arrows, one pointed up while the other pointed down. There were more, like his tie and his hair. It was all different! All... wrong? 

“You aren’t listening” Emmet stated. Though his smile didn’t change much, and his tone was even as ever, but somehow Ingo just knew this man was being cheeky with him, "too much on your head, perhaps?” 

“Ah yes” ingo blushed a bit “my deepest apologies, I thought you were someone else.” he nodded toward Subway Boss Ingo. To which he gave a short wave. 

“No worries, Sir! It hasn’t been the first time” the man gave him a small smile. Wait, what did he mean by not the first time? “But to summarize, we were wondering why you were standing here all by yourself and we wanted to ask if you would like some assistance.”  

“Thank you but there would be no need.” Ingo stood straight, mirroring the bosses’ posture,” I came here with my niece, you see and -” realization came to him like a freight train. His niece! He was about to go look for her when the duo interrupted him. 

“Apologies but I have to go!” Ingo pushed past the bosses and dashed for the pillar in the middle of the room. But he was pulled back before he could enter the crowd. He glared at the hand holding him, it was Emmet’s. “What do you think you are doing? Unhand me!” 

Ingo shooked his hand to break free of the man’s grasp but to no avail. “i must go get her. She could be lost herself!”  

“Nope.”  Instead, with a smile, Emmet pulled him back to them and closer to the wall. Letting his arm go, Ingo pulled his hand back. Emmet and his Ingo stood in front of him, blocking his way to the pillar. Subway Boss Ingo said “Please stay behind the yellow line! you’ll get lost if you join the line with that train. And about your niece, it’s Dawn, correct?” 

“h-how did you know?” the air must not be traveling to his head because did he just hear the man spoke her name?  

“Like we mentioned, it hasn’t been the first time.” The Subway Boss gave him a small smile, one that only he could make from his own frown. “Now, if you’ll please follow us, we’ll help you reach the ticket booth.” 

As promised, the bosses and him weaved through the crowd with no fanfare, though somehow the road to the booth was a long one. 

Along the way, they didn’t talk much but he did get to see more people that dressed like him. More Ingos and Emmets, some were traveling in pairs, some were with companions! Pokemons and humans alike (he noted that the black hair woman seemed to appear a lot), some were traveling alone, waiting like he was.  

All of which didn’t help reawake any memories for Ingo but among the sea of self, ingo didn’t felt that lonely in his lost and confusion. For once in a long time, the hope in him was reignited and maybe he would get to go home.  

The pace slowed and stopped all together. Being closer, the size of the pillar finally dawned on him. It was enormous, ingo couldn’t see the top floor eve when craning his head up all the way. At the front of the pillar were a grand arch and neat queues of people lining in front of it. 

“we are here!” Emmet said, “Now to find your niece.” he climbed on his brother back, placed his hand above his eyes and gleamed over the lines. His older brother, while bend over, let out a deep sigh. 

“UNCLE INGO!” 

All three men looked over to find the girl they were looking for running at them. She ran straight to Ingo, giving him a big hug. So big that it almost toppled him over. “i’m sorry for making you wait for so long” she said not lifting her head from his stomach. “i was lost”. 

“it quite alright Dawn” with one hand pulling her tight and the other patting her head, he hoped he had conveyed to her enough of his relief. “Everything is alright” 

“Oh! I almost forget!” Daw pushed herself off her uncle and stood up, pulling her uncle with her. “Look! Look!” 

Following Dawn’s pointed finger, Ingo thought he was looking into a mirror. A true reflection, another him, with same worn coat and hat, the same tired face and the matching goatee, looking at him with his hand crossed behind his back. The reflection nodded at him and by instinct, he mirrored the action. 

“Warden! So that’s where you have been!” the subway bosses came over to “Warden’s” side. He smiled at them; they conversed quietly among each other which was quite a feat because the whole place was noisy already. 

“i thought he was you so i was lost.” Dawn explained, she quickly added” But then i noticed that the button on his head was different! And then he led me back to you!” 

 “Then we must thank him, yeah?” with a nod from Dawn, the niece and uncle duo hold hand as they went over to the three men.  Ingo bowed deeply and Dawn copied him. “Thank you for leading miss Dawn back to my station.” he spoke. 

“Thank you, mister warden.” Dawn cheerily added. 

“no need to thank me for it’s a duty of the warden to lead the astray back on the path of safety.” the Warden deeply bowed in turn. This “warden”, was he like him also? He looked like him, but his demeanor was different, calmer and more content. He also wore the same emblem as the other two bosses as well. 

“you must be pondering over our similarities, am i correct?” the Warden said as he stroked his goatee, thinking up a way to explain this whole ordeal “i would be too if i was in your position.” 

”You and i and this fellow over there” he pointed at the subway boss “are all Ingos. unlike him though, you and i were both displaced, lost in the vast space and time, but unlike me, you are on your way back to your original station now and I am very happy for you.” the warden came over and patted him on the shoulder. 

“but what about you? With those two’s help, you should be on your way too, right?” 

“correct! But we haven’t found where that is yet” he retreated his hand “We are still searching for it but we also help conduct anyone we encounter on our way to find their way back!” 

“that’s right!” the subway bosses finally joined back into the conversation “after finding mister Warden and learning about his decoupling from his family, we had made it our new objective to help those in similar situation. And this station is one of the many points that the universes intersect with each other. A stop of many where we try to look out for a line leading back to mister Warden’s station.” 

“with that all settled, i think it is time for us to depart. “Emmet said while also gesturing toward Dawn who was hang off his side, looking bored out of her mind but she was being quiet out of polite.” let us get back to our track.” 

“Right. Again, thank you for conducting miss Dawn here back to me and we wish you luck on your journey.”  

“Of course! Now Emmet, is there anything you’d like to add?” the subway boss asked. His back facing his brother’s, ingo knew what he was about to do. 

"Follow the rules and drive safely! We're headed for victory! All aboard!" The subway boss in white strike the old so familiar pose, with his left arm straight and pointing at him while his right arm straight to his side and point down. 

“All aboard!”  subway boss ingo said their phrase in a voice full of excitement and mirrored his brother’s pose. They truly looked like a complete set, black and white, a two-car train. Looking at them, ingo got a glimpse of what home could be like. That, hopefully, when he finally reached his destination, returned to his rightful place, he would be able to do this with his brother as well.   

Dawn tugged at him to do the pose with her also. Ingo smiled and so they did. “All aboard!” The duo returned their excitement in full. The trio of universes hoppers waved them goodbye as Dawn led them through the arch in front of ticket booth, to where they would be waiting for their train to go home. 

When they reached the platform, it was just in time, a train had just pulled in. They quickly went in and settled themselves. Dawn was knocked out practically the moment her head hit the cushion. Ingo repositioned her so her head was on his shoulder and his arm was securing her to his side. Slowly enough, ingo began to drift out too. 

In the final moments of his consciousness, he thought over the encounter he had had. To think that out there, there was a family waiting for him at home and that there were also people and versions of him and his family helping people finding their way back home. All of it gave him such a warm feeling in his heart. His chest tightened and he brought his unoccupied hand up to muffle his hiccups. Some tears were building up on the edge of his eyes and some were traveling down his cheeks already, leaving a trail of warm wetness. 

“Please wait for me...” ingo crooked, his closed-up throat made it hard to talk, let alone be quiet about it. But he needed to say it, in the hope that his words would travel through space and reach its intended recipients. “...I'm almost home.” 

And with that, his eyes closed, and he let himself be lured to sleep by the rumble of the train, the comfort of the cushion and the warmth of his niece at his side. 

...... 

............ 

.................. 

somewhere, in a small office, deep in Gear station, a man laid under a big pile of paper. surrounding him were more papers, diagrams, maps and large symbols. he rose up abruptly, making the papers flew ever where.

“ingo?”