#somehow i have 9 requests left now

[technically-human]

I have a school trip tomorrow so I won't be able to work on the requests, but I have ideas for all of them, don't worry!

I wanted to finish and post one more, but it's... longer than expected. We'll see if I can manage

Also, my girlfriend helped me come up with a tag for when I'm rambling, so you can block it if you want! I'll be tagging it as "#drawer opens up" to stay on brand lol

[moonstruckme]

omg i'm SO obsessed with roommate james like you don't understanddddd 😭💗 i've been loving the shy reader fics so far i'm so excited to see more of them!! i don't know if this would make sense w/ shy reader so honestly just write it however you want but i would loooove to see something w/ roommate james where he has friends over but is always like talking about her and checking on her and everything and his friends are just teasing him about it hahaha i think it would be so fun!! anyway tysm and i hope you have a good day!!!

Hi sweetheart! I had this scene already written but I did implement a couple of the things you requested, hope you like it <3

cw: alcohol

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │ part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 1.3k words

Somehow, you’ve wound up basically in James’ armpit. 

“Falsehoods!” James is laughing, nearly shouting, but you get the sense one needs to yell a bit to communicate in this friend group. Everyone except Lily and Remus, that is, for whom the others seem to quiet reflexively every time they start to speak. “Lies and falsehoods! If I recall, I wasn’t the one who left a pot in the sink for so long it grew mold.” 

“It wasn’t my pot!” Sirius defends himself, propping himself up on Remus' shoulder to make his point. He’s somehow managed to recline on the arm of your couch, his boyfriend’s arm wrapped cautiously around his waist to keep him from slipping off. “You cooked pasta in it and then forgot!” 

“Y/n,” says Lily, sitting across her girlfriend’s lap, “blink twice if you need help.” 

Mary laughs, hooking her hands under Lily’s knees to pull her closer and then intertwining their fingers. This is another thing you’ve noticed about James’ friends: they have a tendency to pile. Not even necessarily with their respective significant others and seemingly regardless of the seating available; last time you came home Sirius was half across James’ lap and Lily and Remus were sitting together on the rug as if the rest of the couch wasn’t empty. 

You laugh too, self-consciousness making you slip further down James’ side when the others look your way. So, it’s possible you have some idea of how you came to be basically in his armpit. 

James grins down at you. “Don’t listen to them,” he stage-whispers. “We both know what a good roommate I can be, under the right management.” 

Your answering smile comes far too easily. You like seeing James like this. You don’t think he’s ever not himself, but as soon as Sirius got here it’s like he dialed up to eleven. And he obviously loves his friends, entertaining them, making them laugh. You can see why, too. They’re an easy bunch to talk to. 

It probably helps that James has been practically tipping ciders down your throat (he hasn’t; he’s offered them to you, and you’ve gulped them down like the nervous freak you are), but you’re actually having a good time. You felt a bit indebted after he’d bought you a pizza last week and you’d still chickened out of coming downstairs, but now you’re glad you’re here. 

Your body feels loose and liquidy, and your shoulder is just starting to hurt from the position you’re in (which makes you wonder how long James’ ribs have been hurting from your shoulder digging into them) when he looks down at you again. He seems amused. 

“You comfy down there?” he asks. 

“Meh.” It’s an honest answer. 

“Here.” He brings his arm to your shoulder, propping you up and then scooching closer to you on the couch. Now you’re not in his armpit so much as under his arm, which drops from where it’s draped across the back of the couch to squeeze your shoulder reassuringly. “Better?” 

“Yeah.” Even the social lubricant of alcohol can’t keep the nervous edge from your voice. “Thanks.” 

“Course, love.” He gives your shoulder another little squeeze, beaming as he focuses back on the conversation. 

Your chest hurts, a gratifying ache. 

You manage to down another cider before his friends start saying their goodbyes, Sirius and Remus each whipping out a cigarette as soon as they’re outside while Lily and Mary fake cough and James heckles them lovingly from the doorway. 

When he shuts the door he’s still smiling, so obviously content you can’t help but feel a crush of affection for him. 

“Thanks for inviting me,” you say, grabbing a rag to clean up where Mary had accidentally spilled a bit of her drink. 

“Of course, I told you you’re always—what are you doing?” 

He sounds so affronted you actually think you’ve done something wrong. You look up from where you’re mopping up the spill, confused. 

“I’m cleaning everything from tonight,” he says, still looking outraged. 

You smile in relief when you realize it’s feigned. “Don’t be stupid. I was participating tonight, too.”

“You make it sound like you were an accomplice to some crime.” James sits down beside you and steals the rag from your hand, cleaning up the rest of the spill himself. “You’re off the hook, you were practically coerced.” 

“I was,” you agree, standing and gathering the dishes from the coffee table instead, “but it was fun in the end. I’m a little bit glad you coerced me.” 

You can hear James’ smile in his voice. “I’ll be sure to do it more often. First, I’m gonna coerce you into hanging out with us again on Friday, and then—“ He turns around, eyes narrowing as he spots the couple of glasses you’re carrying “—stop picking up my mess! Fuck, I can’t keep up with you, you’re like a machine.” 

A giggle fizzes out of you. James stands and holds his hands out for them, but you take a couple of steps back. “Why can’t I help? Anyway, you’re just as clean as I am.” 

“Because, it was my idea,” he laughs, pursuing you. “And I’m only clean because you’re clean.” He backs you up against the stairs, wrestling the glasses away from you with frustrating ease. “If I thought you didn’t care, this whole place would look like the inside of my room.” 

You give an odd bark of laughter, leaning on the banister to look at him. He looks ridiculously smug, both glasses held in one big hand. “Oh my god, you’re so nice. It’s pathological.” 

“Wow.” Some of the smugness falls away as James grins at you. “That’s a real one.” 

“What?” 

“Your smile,” he says. You still don’t get how he can do this eye contact thing, looking at you so openly while he seems so sincere. Your own gaze flees downward, warmth rushing to your cheeks. “I don’t get to see it a lot, out in the open like that. It’s really lovely.” 

He reaches for you, doing this weird chin-pinching thing that shouldn’t be half as endearing as it is. You roll your eyes, but your mouth seems stuck. You don’t know how to respond. 

James doesn’t seem to notice, taking the glasses with him into the kitchen. You grab a few more off the table and follow him. He’s turned the light above the sink on, but the rest of the kitchen is dim. His long sleeves are pushed up to his elbows as he makes soapy water in the sink. 

As you come in, he turns around to take the glasses from you, the light from above casting a glowy halo of his thick brown hair. He’s so beautiful it makes your stomach hurt. You’re suddenly worried you might be just inebriated enough to do something stupid. 

James narrows his eyes at you teasingly as he snatches the glasses away. “Enough of that,” he scolds. 

“Are you sure you don’t want any more help?” you ask. 

He rolls his eyes. You’re pretty sure he didn’t do that so much before he started hanging out with you. On him, it somehow manages to look fond. “Positive,” he says. “Go stop being useful.” 

You catch yourself biting the inside of your lip. “Okay. Then I think I’m gonna head up for the night.” 

“Yeah?” James looks over, and you wonder for a second if something in your voice has given you away. He looks confused, a bit worried, but then that melds into a soft sweetness. He gives you a smile. “Okay. Sweet dreams.” 

“You too,” you say, doing your best to smile in response before you round the corner to the stairs. 

Your brain feels fuzzy. You’re not sure if that’s from alcohol or fatigue or something else entirely, but it feels good to put on your pajamas, clean your face in front of the mirror. The covers on your bed are soft and heavy. You can hear the kitchen sink running downstairs as you slip beneath them, James finally starting to rinse the dishes before he turns in for the night, too. 

You think of his boisterous laugh, the weight of his arm around your shoulders, his thumb pressing into your chin. 

When you close your eyelids, you half expect to find a faint outline of his smile impressed upon the insides.

[cheonstapes]

miguel o’hara stars in… ‘SUGAR BABY CHRONICLES’ ヽ(´o｀；

･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡. miguel o’hara x fem!reader .｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･

SMUT

REQUEST from my lovely @miguelzslvtz; So I was thinking of an older!Sugar daddy Miguel x reader. The reader is working at small country club and Miguel noticed her. She’s serving him drinks, and taking care of him. He tells her she’s too good to be working there and introduced the idea of being her sugar daddy (basically some arm candy). He invites her over to his mansion for a party and she’s dressed up for him🫶🏻 all night she’s being looked at by other men and woman, he’s being very protective of her. He loves on her all night and makes sure she’s taken care of💗💗spoiled✨

cw; older!miguel, slight age gap (reader is in early 20s, miguel is in early 30s), cumming inside, slight breeding(not really, i just have a problem), sugardaddy!miguel, readers a little bit of a tsundere kinda, miguel’s really in love, cunnilings, shower sex, hair pulling, NAWT PROOFREAD!!

4k+ words (longest fic omg!!)

@cheonstapes; hi again…🤗 these hiatuses are killing me. i’ve been absolutely swamped and i lost so much motivation to write but im glad to say i think i’ve found my footing. i found myself again and i’ll work on balancing everything from now on! i apologise for the mammoth amount of time it took me to do this (this is what i get for working chronologically) and i have not forgotten about your requests if you sent one! pyramids and project ex will still be coming but i want to make sure requests are out of the way as they’ve been there for months and it’s not fair for the lovely people who’ve waited so long. thanks again! i love you all🩷

you loved your job, you really did.

not many people can say that genuinely, but when you’re getting the tips you’re getting, seeing the men you’re seeing, you definitely don’t wanna leave anytime soon. working at such an elite club meant you were among the rich of the rich — the big shots of the city that wouldn’t be caught anywhere else.

at the very least, the uniform was modest enough — obviously though, there would always be a few buttons left undone on your shirt, your skirt pulled up just that little bit higher. that window of flesh, no matter how small, was a guaranteed extra thousand in your pocket by the end of the night — and that wasn’t even counting him.

mr. o’hara. that’s all you knew him by. the man was overtly secretive, often arriving alone or occasionally with a very small group of associates. he was by far your biggest tipper. at times, you wondered if he owned the club due to the pure influence he has on your boss — somehow, much to your excitement, convincing him to bump your pay-check up by a lofty sum. the amount of money you make could send you into an early retirement, but of course you wouldn’t do that. it meant you wouldn’t get to learn more about him, and you needed to learn more about him.

summer was always the busiest, the great weather meaning there was more members than usual coming out to play. although, running around and serving for 9 hours a day was extremely tiring — gruelling even. there was sweat dripping down your face, your black dress feeling like a leather coat with the way it clung to you like second skin.

one last drink. you had one last drink to serve and then you could go on your break. double checking the table number, your eyes widened slightly as you saw him. mr. o’hara was not a small man by any means — the bulging muscles tucked away under his tight dress shirt, shoulders almost akin in length with the table. to put it simply, he was the epitome of sexy. you were barely at his table and you could smell him already, the masculine musk of his oud creating a musky, rose scented bubble that ensnared all your senses.

“‘s that for me, sweetheart?”

yes, yes it was. but he really wanted to hear you say it. your voice was such a sweet caress to his ear — he could guarantee an angel got its wings every time you spoke. miguel usually prides himself on being in control of his emotions, his body — but having a pretty, little thing like you just within his grasp was the ultimate challenge of restraint.

the man felt absolutely helpless, his heart pounding in his chest like a hormonal teenage boy when you placed the drink in front of him. “you know it, mr. o’hara — you order the same thing everyday.” fuck. the sip he was having was definitely becoming more than a sip the longer he held the cup to his mouth — chub twitching against the fabric of his slacks.

you were just the sweetest little thing — much more enthusiastic than the other girls that worked there. he might be just imagining it too, but he can feel deep in his heart that you dress up just for him. miguel knows you want him, and he’s more than happy to give himself to you.

“you know me better than i know myself, dulzura. almost like you’re keeping tabs on me, hm?”

“i mean, yeah, i kinda am. it’s my job, mr. o’hara. you’re one of our most frequent regulars, it’d be crazy if i couldn’t tell you your order ‘fore you give it to me.”

oh…yeah.

in miguel’s defence, it’s been a while….a long while since he last flirted — and having an 8-year-old daughter who’s judging your every move means there’s not a lot of time to work on your game. but he’d be damned if he lost an angel like you, he will be yours. plus, gabi does need a woman like you in her life too.

“do you enjoy it, though? your job, I mean — not keeping tabs on me.”

“you probably won’t believe this, but i actually do. the pay’s good, at least, and i can afford to pay my bills, uni, and still have fun. i’m kinda lucky, i guess.”

“you wouldn’t have to worry about that with me, nena.”

miguel knew he was probably breaking some sorta rule, flirting with staff or whatever — but god you were worth it. if being able to take you home meant that he would never set foot in the club again, then so be it.

“sorry, what was that, sir?”

“…quit your job — not in a ‘you’re bad at your job way’ — i’ll take care of you. i can give you everything, anything you want.”

you couldn’t say you were surprised, especially with the nature of your job — old men say stuff like this to you all the time. but, miguel wasn’t any old man. as much as you loved your job, had a stable income and good connections — the thought of quitting and running away with a man like him? fuck, it was so tempting.

“alright then. i hope you live up to those words, mr. o’hara.”

———————————————————————————

mr o’hara (sugardaddy?)

I’m throwing an event at work tonight, I want you to be there.

sent 16:42

(y.n)

hi, mr o’hara. i’d love to but i finish work at 7,i don’t know if i’ll be able to make it. and i don’t really have anything to wear :(

sent 16:50

mr. o’hara (sugardaddy?)

Don’t worry about it, gorgeous. I’ve already got you off work for the rest of the week, and I’ve got you something nice to wear.

sent 16:50

(y.n)

oh, really? well, i guess i’ll see you there then! ;)

sent 16:56

mr. sugardaddy

Mmhm, I can’t wait to see you, babe. And call me miguel.

sent 16:56

———————————————————————————

miguel had promptly sent his driver to pick you up in a sleek black sports car, much to the dismay of your co-workers. a beautifully wrapped box was placed on the seat beside you, a bouquet of orchids and a small note that read ‘for you, las flores más bonitas para la chica más guapa - m’

it was hard to not feel a tinge if heat was rising in your face, for someone whom you’re only just getting to know to be so utterly romantic — it was a new experience! relationships had never been something you were particularly interested in, but there was no denying the allure that someone like miguel held and only time could tell how it would all play out.

arriving at his mansion, which was nothing short of jaw dropping — the halls were mostly desolate aside from the quite bustle of the staff that were preparing for tonight’s ball. an elderly woman escorts you upstairs to the master bedroom, your eyes roaming the area as you take in the grandeur of the building — aged walls paired with a modern nueva york touch.

“where’s mr. o— miguel?” the woman turns to you, an indecipherable smile on her lips.

“mr. o’hara is just getting prepared for the ball. don’t fret over him, he’ll join you shortly.” well, it was a bit rude to invite someone over and not be there to greet them but ok! “ah, i forgot to mention,” she opens the door, stepping aside to let you in. “i left you a little something on the dresser. i believe you both’ll be needing it.” the woman winks, silently closing the door behind her — leaving you alone in the large room.

god, even the room smelt like him. a musky wood and cinnamon smell, with the faintest hint of vanilla from the candle burning by the window sill. it wasn’t everyday you were in the presence of such luxury, especially old money luxury. your eyes flitted over to the dresser the woman was referring to, that sneaky grandma.

a box of xl condoms, birth control, towels, all wrapped in a cute gift basket. “seriously? who does she think i am? i’m not fucking on the first date.” wait— was this a date? it definitely felt like one, but it was hard to be 100% sure. this was too much to deal with now, all that was left to worry about was the ball and getting ready.

on the bed behind you lay a beautifully wrapped box, with a red ribbon to top it off. it fell gracefully onto the bedsheets as you unwrapped it, lifting the lid to reveal the shimmering red dress underneath. a sleeveless satin dress, fabric lined with the finest crystals, a slit raising mid thigh, lined a sheer lace. it was the definition of classy, with a hint of seduction.

putting it on felt like a crime, something so beautifully should be preserved and put into a museum. it took all of your willpower to not tuck the dress away somewhere safe and just go and get one of your own — but alas, it was a gift, the least you could do is wear it. the craziest part was how perfect it fit. practically a glove, clinging onto every curve and crevice of your body — extenuating places you never even noticed before.

smoothing out the wrinkles, making sure it was as perfect as possible — fuck, you looked hot. the colour complimented your skin exquisitely, adding a soft glow to your complexion. in the time it took you to get ready, it seemed like the party was already amping up. you could see the surge of people from the window, flashing lights and an abundance of cars being handed to the concierges. you still had yet to see miguel and what better time to look for him than now?

there was a pair of red heels that matched the dress to a T, slipping them on and bouncing down the steps. the butterflies fluttered wildly in your tummy the nearer you got to the party, joining the line of people being checked in by security. though, from the corner of your eye, you catch sight of him. standing there in all his 6’ glory, curls lightly slicked back, wearing a tight button up shirt and those sexy slacks.

something about seeing miguel like this, so carefree and relaxed, set something off inside of you. even though you were supposed to be his guest, you did everything in your power to avoid his gaze — purely cause you don’t think you’d be able to maintain eye contact him for longer than a few minutes without jumping his bones. but of course, fate was destiny’s whore, and soon enough you were being escorted straight into the ballroom.

“were you avoiding me, cielo?”

a hand splayed across your waist, leading you deeper inside the hall as he whispered in your ear. it was obviously due to the fact that you probably couldn’t hear him all too well because to the loud music, but the way his hands caressed your sides, his lips brushing against the lobe of your ear — it felt all too intentional.

“no…i just didn’t want to cut in line. i figured i’d see you when i see you.”

“is that so?” he slid a champagne flute in your hands, grabbing one of his own as he tilted his head at you — a stray curl unfurling down his forehead. “you’re like an open book, cariño. you think i don’t know what’s going on in that pretty little head by now?”

“so you’ve been studying me, hm?” now it was your turn to raise a brow, tilting your head back as you took a long sip of your champagne. it wouldn’t be a huge surprise if he had been, it was kinda obvious from all the stares he’d give you and when he’d ‘enquire’ about you from your colleagues.

“mmm, studying’s a strong word. i was simply…observing you. can’t blame me for wanting to know someone as enchanting as you better.”

he had quite the mouth on him, didn’t he? you couldn’t stop the small smile that graces your lips, shaking your head in disbelief.

“you’re so stupid, miguel.”

“if falling for you is stupid, then i’m the dumbest of them all.”

it was so bad, so bad that it was actually good. and that comment shaped the rest of your night together. considering your new arrangement, he took the liberty of introducing you to his circle of friends and their wives — conveniently leaving out that he was your new sugar daddy, but that was a story for another day. miguel revelled in the looks they all gave you, seemingly forgetting they themselves had a date nestled on their arms. he really couldn’t have picked a better dress, but damn if it wasn’t killing him.

you really didn’t know how beautiful you were, and he so badly wanted to show you. the dim lighting was a blessing for the tent in his slacks, giving him a flimsy disguise for the arousal he felt at that moment. after more than a few drinks too, wandering hands and lingering words, it was becoming unbearable. however, scaring you off wasn’t on his bucket list tonight. he didn’t take this long fighting for your attention to loose you on the first date. he vowed to do everything at your pace, leaving it up to you to make the first move.

as the party wrapped up, and miguel said his goodbyes — you stood at the door, shivering from the cold air as it nipped against your bare arms. the fun you had was incomparable to any party you’ve ever been to, but you thought you may have overstayed your welcome. shakily tapping on your phone with freezing fingers, ordering an uber to pick you up —

“leaving already?”

“yeah, i had a lot of fun tonight, though.” it was a genuine smile, one that spoke a million words. “thanks for inviting me, miguel.”

for a man so big he sure did move so silently. he stood behind you, gently grasping your hand in his as she looked down on you. “when i invited you, i didn’t invite you as a mere guest — you’re more than welcome to stay as long as you’d like.”

it didn’t even sound like he was simply offering, miguel was begging. you could see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice — urging you to stay the night, stay with him.

“miguel, are you sure? i don’t even have anything to change—“

“i’ve already organised sleepwear for you, but you could wear something of mine if you’d like?”

that sly smirk slid its way onto his face once again, rolling your eyes as you walked past him — pulling out your phone to cancel the uber. “fine, i’ll stay. i might take you up on that offer too.”

lo and behold, an array of skincare and pyjamas were set out on his bed as you entered the master bedroom once again — and to top it off, gift bags filled with designer items that you’d never thought you’d ever own. “miguel…is this all for me?”

“unless i have another sugar baby, who else would it be for? ‘course it’s for you, darling — consider it a…’welcome’ gift.”

“more like my entire tuition fee, hell. you didn’t have to spend all this money on me, y’know?”

“cariño,” you could see miguel walking up to him from the mirror in front, his arm slipping round your waist to pull you into his back. “i spend my money how i want, and i want to spend it on you. so i don’t want to hear no more complaining from you, understand.” the small nod you gave earned a small grin from him, a hand smoothing up the curve of your back until it reached the shimmering zipper under your neck.

“you look like a goddess tonight, baby. so fucking beautiful…” his words were whispered softly into your neck, gentle breaths caressing your skin. as he spoke, the zipper slid lower and lower — until your dress was held together by the tips of his fingers. the cold metal of his rings brushed against your bare skin, the tips of his fingers dancing on the curve of your waist as he lets the fabric pool at your feet.

“m-miguel, i’m sweaty from all the dancing! at least let me wash up first, or something.” if you weren’t sweating much then, you were definitely sweating buckets now. the heat radiating from you mixed with the heat simmering between the two of you made for a heady cocktail of unspoken desire — and you silently cursing yourself for almost breaking the number one rule: ‘don’t fuck on the first date.’

“we can use my shower then, it’s large enough for the both of us.” we? oh, you’re definitely breaking that rule now. “i didn’t say this was gonna be a joint effort, did i? i can wash myself, miguel.” you weren’t even convincing yourself with the breathy way you spoke, the way he was caressing you, the pure adoration in his voice was something you haven’t felt before. plus, this is the guy who’s willingly paying you to simply be around him — it’s a win-win situation.

“i know you can, baby —“ letting out a deep chuckle, miguel intertwined your hands and lead you towards the bathroom — “but it’s more fun with two, no?” the gentle pitter-patter of the waterfall shower reverberated through the silence of the room, the sound of fabric rustling followed shortly after. glancing down at your feet, miguel’s clothing was promptly discarded — your widened eyes trailing up his hefty frame.

“fucking christ…”

the man in front of you was nothing short of absolutely beautiful. despite spending everyday surrounded by older men, you never found yourself truly attracted to them until now — or maybe it was simply just miguel himself. “i thought you wanted to take a shower, muñeca?” oh, yeah, the shower. before you could even finish your thought, miguel was already occupying half of the space in there, leaving a small pocket for you to slide into.

the expeditious beating of your heart was muffled by the steady stream of water, but it was more than clear to miguel what you were feeling in that moment. the moment was strangely intimate, and dare i say innocent, for the predicament you found yourself in. his hands gently roamed your skin, barely making contact with any sensitive areas aside from fleeting brushes. he made a point to use his hands instead of a rag, claiming he could ‘clean you better than a flimsy cloth’.

it was truly getting unbearable, utterly frustrating. your subconscious and ovaries were in an intense battle of wits, when a third party made itself known in the worst way possible. you really had forgotten that miguel was as naked as you were until you felt the base of his cock slide between your ass cheeks, chest flush against his back. the slightest hitch of your already shaky breath earned another rich laugh from within him, thick fingers playing with the skin of your tummy.

“you feeling cleaner or what? i’m more than happy to keep going if you are, baby.”

of course you wanted him to keep going! you were already as wet as is, in every way possible. “i..i think you might’ve missed a spot.” the hand on your tummy paused, his breath hitting your ear as he bent down slightly. “i did? i like to consider myself very thorough, cariño — enlighten me.” you did your best to turn with the small space you had, looking up at him with a more confident expression than the one you wore previously.

“here.”

now it was miguel’s turn to be surprised, the tip of his finger brushing against your swollen clit before tapping against your slit. it had been so long since you had a real good fuck, and right now you were genuinely about to give this man some babies if he kept on smiling like that. “mm, looks like i did. forgive me for being so careless. i’ll make sure she gets extra attention.” his words trailed off as he sunk to his knees, the gentle spray of water splattering against his face.

he tapped your ass, lifting you up with one hand as he pressed you against the cool glass, legs resting on his shoulders. his pretty lashes were dusted with droplets of water as he gazed at you from between your thighs, nipping and sucking on the sensitive skin as he kneaded your skin gently. his thick tongue was enough to completely spread you open, eagerly collecting your creamy essence.

miguel was moaning like a pure slut, you would think he got more pleasure in eating you out than you did. his eyes were rolled back, hips absentmindedly bucking to the rhythm of the shower as he sucked on your clit. the position was not uncomfortable by any means, but the unadulterated pleasure you were feeling made it hard to stay upright — nails raking down the expensive marble tiles as you practically grasped for straws.

“grab my hair, darling. i don’t want you to fall.”

whilst his words were slightly muffled, the undeniable concern in his voice had you moaning embarrassingly loud. miguel was clearly strong enough to hold you up all alone, so you surrendered the grip you had on the wall to rake your trembling fingers through his hair — tugging on the curly strands.

“nngh..fuck..”

he fucking whimpered. miguel o’hara, the richest and most powerful man in this city, was shamelessly whimpering between your thighs. that was certainly the biggest ego boost ever, the fact that it’s your pussy that has this huge man so drunk. pushing out your hips, you practically smothered his face — riding him mid-air as you felt the delicious sensations bubbling up inside of your stomach. breathless chants of his name left your lips, panting softly as your head fell back against the panels.

“c-cumming! ugh— fuck, miguel!

the jerks of your body made miguel grip your ass tightly, licking his lips of your release as he shuffled upwards, grinning down at your disheveled form. “you’re breathtaking when you cum for me, beautiful. can’t believe you’re all mine.” he whispered against your lips, forehead to forehead as he kissed you for the first time. it felt like a million tiny fireworks going off inside of you, the previous tension in your body instantly melting away as you leaned into his touch — tongue’s pressing against each other as drooled slipped down your necks.

he kept his mouth latched onto yours as he gripped his leaking cock, dipping the pearly tip inside of your sensitive hole. his movements were unhurried, sloppily kissing you as he dipped in-and-out, in-and-out. it was a steady pace that you soon found yourself liking more than usual, a stark contrast to the inexperienced fucking’s you were getting before. “inside, please…i wanna feel you, all of you.”

you were too dangerous for this old man’s heart. having a pretty little thing like you beg for him to fuck you like you deserved, to mold that sweet cunt into the shape of his cock — it was all too tempting. he was more than willing to do anything his sweet baby asked him to, and he wasted no time in giving in to you. “shit, cielo, no one’s ever fucked you right, huh? she’s gripping onto me like a vice.”

he was right, in every sense of the word. you didn’t know how many partners he had before you, and really didn’t want to find out — but one thing was for sure, miguel knew exactly how to please you. your head fell against his chest, his hand lifting it up by your chin as he pumped into you. “tell me, dulzura, i’m the only one that’s made you feel like this? only man to fuck this perfect pussy right?”

he took the tiny nods and breathy whimpers as a yes, grinning like a madman as he revealed in the satisfaction of ruining you for anyone else — not like he was gonna let you go in the first place. his pace picked up vigorously, finding the perfect balance between pounding into your sore cunt and softly rutting against your ass. the skin where you both combined was tinged red, the on-going waterfall above unable to fully wash away the evidence of your cream on his pelvis.

“only you, miguel — no one…no one’s better than you. i’m yours, daddy.”

those words, hushed and warm, pushed his already inflated ego to the edge. his hips bucked widly, prodding at the spongy spot inside of you as she pressed his lips against yours once more. all sounds were trapped between your connected lips, muffling the choked squeal that left your lips and the guttural groan that left his as he came deep inside you. he did promise to clean you extra throughly, and what better way to do that than flushing out your canal with his cum!

he lazily rolled his hips against yours, ignoring the sticky liquid bubbling on the side of his spent cock. “did so well for me, my beautiful princess. i’m so proud of you.” the fluttering of your heart made you instinctively turn away, cheeks flaring with heat as you pouted — you really can’t believe you fucked on the first bloody date. your little tough act didn’t fool miguel, in fact it fuelled him even more. he continued to praise your very essence, worshiping the ground you walk on despite your protests — smiling softly as he sees your fierce resolve weaken. “there she is, you ready to let me love on you now?”

“yeah, yeah. but first, we need an actual shower. no fucking this time.”

“no promises.”

this was the last place you saw yourself in life, but maybe being in miguel’s arms were where you were supposed to be.

- thank you for waiting and make sure to watch ateez at coachella!!!!!

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

A Father’s Love?

Sam Winchester & daughter!reader, Dean Winchester & niece!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: You (9-10) are left alone with your dad, who currently is missing his soul, and it doesn’t go well

Update: part 2 is here

“Uncle De, please don’t go.” Your voice was low as you tried to keep your dad—who was in the bathroom—from hearing. “I-I don’t wanna be alone with him.”

Dean felt awful for leaving you like this, but he had no choice. You hadn’t been comfortable with Sam since the moment you’d found out he was back—the same time Dean did. You’d been living with Dean, Lisa, and Ben, and when Sam revealed that he’d been back all along, you instantly didn’t trust him. Dean had been angry, sure, but somehow he just hadn’t seen what you had—that your dad wasn’t really himself.

Of course, eventually the three of you—including Sam, who hadn’t been sure what was wrong with him—discovered the truth: he was soulless. As soon as Dean find out, he felt horrible for not understanding your hesitance before. Now that he knew, he tried to avoid leaving you alone with Sam whenever possible, especially since he didn’t really trust Sam without a soul.

But sometimes it was unavoidable.

“Kiddo, you know I don’t have a choice,” Dean said.

“I don’t like it here with him,” you insisted, refusing to let go of Dean’s sleeve. “He-he’s like daddy’s evil twin or something.”

Dean swallowed. “Sweetheart, he’s not evil, ok? He’s just a little weird right now.”

“Daddy’s weird,” you argued. “This guy is bad.”

Dean ran a hand over his face.

“Baby, please. You know I have to go. He’s gonna be good, I promise, and soon enough he’s gonna be back to regular-old dad, I swear.”

Dean left without another word, and the silence that hung in the motel room was deafening.

“Dean left?” Sam asked as he exited the bathroom. You ignored his question—he didn’t actually care, after all—and you went to sit on your bed. You could feel Sam’s eyes on you as you went. The motel stayed the worst kind of silence as you pretended to read while Sam just stared at you.

“What do you want?” You demanded finally, dropping the book. Your voice was nowhere near as firm as you wanted it to be.

“You hate me.” It wasn’t a question.

“You hated me first.” Unlike Sam, you couldn’t look at him while you accused him. Even without looking at the shell that used to be your dad, you could feel tears pricking at the back of your eyes as you waited for him to speak.

“I don’t hate you,” he huffed. “I mean, I don’t particularly care about you, but I don’t hate you.”

Somehow, apathy was even worse.

“Just leave me alone,” you mumbled. You shouldn’t have been surprised when Sam shrugged and obeyed. You felt your eyes drifting to him as he pulled a beer from the fridge and took it to his bed. His eyes caught yours and he frowned.

“What? You said leave you alone.”

“Dad wouldn’t have listened,” you mumbled, but Sam heard you anyway.

“Well, I’m not your dad,” Sam shrugged. “I’m not Sam, not anymore.”

“Ok.” You turned to face away from him. “Now I mean it. Leave me be.”

But Sam was suddenly intrigued, and he ignored your request.

“You and Dean wanted me to stop pretending to be him. This is just me not pretending.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like you,” you said, your eyes downcast.

“Exactly, and I don’t like you either. I mean, you’re kind of a brat.”

“I told you to leave me alone,” you said, finally looking up.

“You beg Dean to keep you with him all the time like I’m gonna hurt you or something, it’s pathetic.” Sam seemed to be getting a real kick out of finally saying all that he’d been thinking over the past few weeks.

“I said leave me alone!” You yelled at him, but he didn’t listen.

“I mean, I remember caring about you when I was that other guy, I just…I just can’t remember why.”

“Go away! Leave me be!” You were on your feet now, shoving and pushing at Sam, but the giant man didn’t even flinch.

“I mean your just a little pest!”

“Stop it! Just go away!”

Crying, overwhelmed, and so unbelievably hurt, you started to slap at the guy who used to be your dad, smacking his neck, his face, whatever you could reach. Suddenly, Sam wasn’t having so much fun anymore.

“Hey!” Though your slaps had little effect on him, one harsh blow from Sam had you flat on your back, dazed and breathing hard. You could still feel the impact of his palm against your cheek, and you couldn’t scramble away from him fast enough.

“If you’re gonna give it out, you should be prepared to take it,” Sam muttered gruffly.

You were on your feet in an instant, and you were out the door before you’d even made the decision to leave.

“Hey!” You could hear your dad—no, not your dad—following after you, and you barely made it five steps out of the room before his arms were around you and dragging you back in.

“Stop it!” You were crying now, and you couldn’t remember when you’d started. “Let me go!”

“If I lose you, Dean’s never gonna help me,” Sam grunted, shoving you back into the room and closing the door behind him. “So how about we all just calm down here.” It wasn’t a request; it was a command. “You don’t hit me, I won’t hit you.”

That would’ve sounded reasonable enough, if not for one thing—your desperate smacks to his skin had done nothing to him, they hadn’t even hurt, but you could already feel the side of your face swelling where he’d hit you. But you didn’t argue with Sam. You didn’t even speak. You just sat on your bed and turned your back on him, pulling your legs up to your chest and burying your face in your knees so you could cry in peace.

Sam left you alone for several minutes, but his sudden hand on your shoulder had you flinching back violently and scrambling away from him.

“Would you calm down?” Sam huffed as he let go. He was holding out a frozen bag of peas. “Put this on it.”

You took it hesitantly and slowly pressed the cold bag to your face.

“Look…” Sam’s hand was back on your shoulder, only now his giant fingers were right at the junction between your neck and your shoulder, and they were squeezing way too hard. “Dean would kill me if he figured out what happened, ok? And he certainly wouldn’t be helping me anymore. So maybe…maybe you just tell him you fell in the shower or something, ok?” He said it like a question, but the grip on your shoulder and the ice in his eyes told the truth; he expected you to lie to Uncle Dean, and you didn’t know what he’d do if you didn’t.

“Ok,” you whispered, and his hand was gone in an instant.

“Ok,” he said firmly.

Then he turned his back on you and left you alone to cry.

…

The swelling was down by the time Dean returned, but you’d looked in the mirror long enough to see a black and purple bruise forming along almost one whole side of your face.

You resisted the urge to run to your uncle the moment he stepped in the door—if you acted scared, he would figure it out, and Sam would be mad. Instead, you stayed where you were with your head down, your hair covering most of the bruise.

“Hey,” Dean greeted. “You guys ok?”

“We’re fine,” Sam said simply. You’d been hoping that he would lie for you, so you didn’t have to, but he seemed content to leave things quiet.

“You sure?” Dean was watching you now, noticing your uncharacteristic silence.

“I’m ok,” your voice was hoarse from crying, and Dean wasn’t fooled.

“What’s wrong?” Dean was in front of you in an instant, brushing your hair behind your ears. His hand recoiled when he saw the bruise. “What happened?”

“I—“ you looked up to face Dean, and your voice caught in your throat when you saw Sam staring daggers at you from behind your uncle’s shoulder. “I f-fell.”

“Fell?” Dean frowned.

You nodded. “In-in the shower.”

“Sam.” Dean’s voice was dangerously quiet. “Out. Now.”

“Me?” When had Sam become such a good actor? He looked as innocent as ever. “What did I do?”

Despite his acting, Dean wasn’t buying it for a minute.

“Get out! I need to talk to her alone.”

The moment Sam was out the door, Dean was tilting your chin up with a feather-light hand at your chin.

“He hit you, didn’t he.” Dean wasn’t asking.

“I fell,” you lied, the tears in your eyes giving you away.

“Don’t lie for him,” Dean pleaded. “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t kick him out,” you pleaded. “We-we have to help him get his soul back. This isn’t him, Uncle Dean.”

“I know it’s not,” Dean sighed. “But I need you to be safe.”

“I’ll be safe when my dad is back.”

…

“You stay away from her.” Dean didn’t give Sam a chance to speak when he let him back into the room.

“Fine.” Sam was done lying—it hadn’t done any good.

“And if you ever touch her again, you’re gone, understand?”

Sam didn’t look happy, but he couldn’t argue.

“I understand.”

…

You slept in Dean’s bed that night—you hadn’t shared a bed with your father since he came back soulless—and Sam went out to do whatever it was that he did while you guys slept. Apparently being soulless meant you didn’t sleep.

“Are you ok?” Dean asked. “And don’t lie to me.”

“It doesn’t hurt so bad anymore,” you mumbled. “I just…I just miss him.”

Dens pulled you into his arms as you started to cry.

“I know, sweetheart. I miss him too. We’re gonna get him back, ok? I promise.”

“Ok Uncle Dean.”

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[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Intercorrelated

Miguel O'Hara x afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2024 Masterlist • Kinktober 2023 Masterlist • Day 29: Cream Pie

Summary: You've had a bad day.

A/N: This was meant to be for kinktober 2023 (I'm so sorry).

Warnings: reader has tattoos on their legs, kissing, teasing, p in v sex, cream pie, oral, fingering, swimming pool adjacent smut, reader works at Alchemax, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 2244

You sighed, annoyance bubbling along your veins, threatening to boil over and overwhelm you. Tears pulsed at the back of your eyes, trying to fight their way to the surface. 

It just wasn’t fair. 

The experiment had failed. Fine. These things happened. But Stone giving you a fucking public dressing down and all but promising to destroy every scrap of research you’d gathered? Yeah. Not so fine. 

You pushed open the door to the swimming pool. It was on the upper levels, part of the built-in gym in the Alchemax building. It was always empty this late, everyone who stayed at this time was either working on their own experiments or had accidentally fallen asleep in the carpark. The pool was the perfect place for you to wallow just a little bit. 

The door swung shut behind you, enclosing you in the smell of chlorine, and you were just a few steps into the room when you spotted him. Miguel-fucking-O’Hara. Mister 6 foot-fucking-9 and ‘Oh, I would never have any experience blow up in my face.’ 

You sighed. 

It wasn’t Miguel’s fault that you’d had a shit day. But you’d quite like for him to piss off out of the pool so you could lay down on the seating at the edge of the room and contemplate your life choices so far. 

He was doing laps at a practically insane speed, gliding smoothly through the water. Another thing he was annoyingly good at. Prick. 

As he reached the wall of the deep end he turned, intending to do another lap, but paused when he noticed you standing on the side, just at the edge of the swallow end. 

You swallowed, skin prickling under his gaze. You didn’t want him to think you’d come in here just to gaup at him, but it wasn’t like you could just jump in and swim in your work clothes. Fuck.

You marched with purpose towards the middle of the pool and hastily pulled off your socks and shoes, leaving them fairly neatly on the side, before you rolled up your trousers and sat on the edge. You dipped your feet and calves into the water. Temperature wise it was surprisingly pleasant. 

You assumed that maybe O’Hara would have the common decency to ignore you, continue his lengths until he finished his workout. Something any normal person would have done. 

Anyone else certainly wouldn’t have slowly swam towards you, barely making ripples in the water with their smooth strokes. 

He stood up in the pool, not quite directly in front of you. He didn’t say anything at first, though you could see him watching you out of your perpetual vision. Slowly he ran a hand through his hair, pushing errand strands away from his eyes as droplets ran down his temples. 

There wasn’t much hope that he’d ignore you and your slightly red looking eyes now.

“You okay?” 

Why the fuck was he like this? All calm words, with that stupid low voice of his and big doe eyes. 

“Fine.” 

He hummed, not sounding like he believed you in the slightest. He sank back down into the water a little, lifting his legs up and spreading his arms out so that he could float in a sitting position. 

“Why are you sitting on the edge of the pool, in your work clothes?” He asked deadpan. 

“Why not?” You somehow managed not to grimace at your childish response. It wasn’t like O’Hara would understand anyway, he was oh, so, perfect. 

To your surprise, Miguel smirked slightly at your response. He watched you for a moment before pointing at your leg. “I like your tattoos.” He said matter of factly. 

“Yeah?” A brief smile flashed across your face and you angled your left leg out of the water for him to see it clearer. “You’ve seen them before.” 

“I know.” He nodded and looked closer. “They’re pretty..” 

“Thanks.” You tried to fight down the heat that spiked along your skin. You cleared your throat, “erm, do you have any?” Despite how many times he’d been inside of you, you’d never actually seen him as naked as he is now.

He shook his head. “Not a massive fan of needles.” His stupid little smile was infectious and you couldn’t help but mirror the expression. 

Miguel held your gaze for a moment too long, the action almost hypnotising. There was a slight upwards twitch to his lips for a second before he moved a fraction closer and stood. It was almost as if he wanted you to get a good few of the water running down his smooth skin and- no, you were just being silly now. 

He touched the outside of your calf with the tips of his fingers, a ghost-like touch that made you shiver involuntarily. Lightly he traced the outline of your tattoo, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly in concentration. “What do they mean to you?” He asks softly. 

“Erm,” your voice cracks a little as if you hadn’t spoken for a while and you swallow, gulping down air. “Lots of things…” 

He looks up at you from under his eyelashes, the tips of his fingers still gliding across your skin. 

“This one is… erm, well, sort of a memento mori, I guess.” 

He smirks, one eyebrow raised. “You guess?”

You pull a face at him for a second. “It is.” 

He smiles, going back to looking at the tattoo. “Morbid.”

You’re about to retort back when his fingers slide higher, slipping further up your calf. “What about this one?” He says softly again, his voice low and deep. 

“It’s…” you shiver again as he delicately strokes your skin, his touch maddeningly distracting. In all honesty, you should snap at him, push him away, get him to stop touching you. This was inappropriate, this was unprofessional. But it’s not like that has stopped you before.

“It’s?” He repeats, not looking up at you as he continues caressing higher, sliding up to your knee and over the top of your rolled up trousers to your thigh. 

Your breath catches in your throat, all possible thoughts and words dissolving from your mind in an instant.

Miguel smiles ever so slightly, still looking unwaveringly at your leg. But he can hear the little gasp of air escape your lungs. 

He lets the quiet hang for a moment before he speaks again, his voice even lower than before. “Why do you have so many?” 

“I… I like them… they make me happy.”

He hums again, but this is a satisfied sound. “They’re beautiful on you.” 

You swallow. “Thank you.” 

“You’re beautiful.” He smiles and you forget how to breathe. “And smart, Stone’s a fucking idiot.”

“You heard about that.” You mutter, ignoring the first part of his sentence. 

He nods and hums. “He’s fucking unprofessional. And a dick.” 

That makes you laugh and he smiles. “You ignored what I said.” 

You pause, frowning slightly and his grin widens.

“You’re beautiful.” He repeats, stressing the words. 

You swallow and shift a little, your mind working in overdrive. “Erm… thank you.” 

He chuckles kindly and you wince, putting your hands over your face and groaning.

“I mean…” 

“I know what you mean.” He repeats, he steps closer his hands on your knees and lightly presses as he moves between your legs. 

He softly strokes your cheek, leaning closer as his gaze flickers from your eyes to your lips. 

“You’re beautiful,” You mutter, mesmerised. 

“Thank you,” he whispers, a cheeky edge to his voice as he places a gentle kiss to your lips. 

For a second you freeze, practically forget how to react. But then you press closer, leaning against his wet skin, the water seeping into your work clothes. 

You feel him grin, but it’s not in a slimy self-confidence - it’s happiness. 

Before you really know what’s happening, Miguel has you on your back against the floor, tugging off your trousers and panties and putting them on the side. 

Part of you is sure that you should be at least vaguely protesting. What if someone else walked in? The other part of you is sure that if you’re going to get fired for the failed experiment, you might as well go down a legend as the researcher who fucked by the company pool. 

Miguel sucks your clit into his mouth as he pushes two of his large fingers inside of you, groaning as you arch your back and whine softly. 

“Hmm, god you taste nice.” He mutters, curling his fingers and swirling his tongue around your clit before he goes back to sucking. “Fuck, you’re so wet already.” 

He pulls his fingers out quickly, putting his hands on the side of the pool and lifting himself up and out of the water completely. 

He shuffles you back a little, so that he can kneel between your legs and helps you to pull off your top. The material is barely over your head before he has his thick cock in his hand, already lining up with your entrance. He pushes in gently, even though he knows you can take him now, still as gentle as he was when you first started this little game. 

He grunts in your ear as he bottoms out, sighing as your walls squeeze and pulse. “I didn’t expect to cross the pool off my list.” 

You snort, “You got a list of places you wanna fuck?” 

He grins at you. “Mentally.” 

You giggle, “Nah, you’ve got it written down, probably a spreadsheet somewhere.”

“Who told you about my spreadsheet?” He teases, leaning up a little so that he can rock into you slowly. 

You spread your legs a little wilder, raising your hips to match his rhythm. 

“Maybe I can,” he tries to keep his voice as calm and controlled as possible, but you can hear the strain in it. “Actually take you out somewhere first? We could eat then fuck? In a bed?” 

You bite your lip, trying to match his even tone. Another part of your game. Whoever broke and moaned first lost, and so far, you were on a winning streak. “What, is that on your list too?” 

“I’d like it to be.” He groans softly. 

“Oh, was that a moan?” You grin.

He shakes his head rapidly, “You must be hearing things.” 

“Fuck,” you swallow as he changes the angle, pressing the head of his cock repeatedly against your g spot while he rubs his pubic bone against your clit. 

“Was that a-”

“No.” You give him a look and he grins. 

“Let me make you dinner.” He breathes, the strain starting to show in his voice.

“So desperate to get me to your house?” You tease.

He gives you a soft look, his eyes dark. “You know I am.” 

You falter, that wasn’t what you were expecting. Every time in the past you both fucked, usually in his offices on suite, he’d been light-hearted. Kind, but teasing. This was just a way to blow off some steam, a fuck and see you later. Now he sounded more like… like…

“Come on,” he grins, and sinks wonderfully deep. “How about a wager?” 

You nod. 

“You moan first, I get to take you home and fuck your brains out in my bed?” 

You swallow down a cry. “What do I get if I win?” 

“What do you want?” He raises his eyebrows at you. 

You pause, lost his expression. “For you to take me home and fuck my brains out?” 

“Oh, very good.” He grins and quickly leans down to nip at your neck, his hips hypnotising as he rocks and rolls, pulling you closer and closer to the edge. 

You squeeze his shoulders, shivering and shuddering as he moves expertly, the pattern to make you fall apart practically embedded in his bones. 

He breathes deeply, pressing his lips close to your ear and then moans deeply at the exact moment he grinds down against your hips. You gasp. 

“Looks like you won again,” you can hear the glee colouring his voice, “Guess I’ll have to try to make you scream at home later.” 

You groan, “Miguel…”

“Oh fuck, that’s it,” he rocks faster, groaning at the wetness between your legs, how your pussy flutters around him and sucks him impossibly deeper. “Be good and come on my cock.” He hisses, his muscles tensing. “Before I fill you up completely and-”

Your back arches as you cry on, pleasure erupting along your nerves as he pushes you over the edge. Colour explodes behind your eyes, dances along your skin as you sink and float at the same time.

He thrusts twice, his moans rising as he follows you into bliss, coming hard and deep and, true to his word, filling you completely. 

He kisses you hungrily as he comes, his hips slowing as he sucks on your tongue and then nuzzles into your neck. 

You both breathe hard as the sweat on your skin cools. “You’re not worried about Stone are you?” He asks softly. 

You shrug, trying to act nonchalant, but it’s clear you are.

“Don’t be.” He kisses your pulse point. “He won’t talk to you like that again.” 

You wriggle a little so that you can look at him fully, Miguel smiles up at you. “How do you know that?” 

“I can be intimidating you know?” 

That makes you laugh kindly, “You’re too sweet for that.” 

“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “I have my moments.” 

Thank you for reading!

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Celandine (c.b. one-shot)

𝓢𝓷𝓲𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓽 (𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓑𝓣𝓒): “Princess” he said his voice cracking a bit and he led you to the bed, sitting and pulling you into his lap “I could never stop loving you. I would have to be warm and dead to stop loving you. Y’hear me? You, and little dude, are the only things in this world that matter t’me…and maybe the restaurant…but-“ he said, just to bring a tiny smile to your lips 

♡ Chapter Inspo: Celandine - Cures depression, brings victory and joy. Serves as a protective ward when worn. Carry to increase self-confidence when facing adversaries. Use in ritual work when you feel trapped in undue negativity. ♡ Summary: You are feeling a bit blue about your body PP, Carmy takes it upon himself to show you just how beautiful you are! :) <3 ♡ W/C: 1.2K+ ♡ Posted Date: 05/27/2024 ♡ A/N: Hello! Happy day 2/7 of the Capri 200 Follower Celebration Extravaganza!!! You can find said extravaganza ♡ Here ♡ this celebration will be going until next Sunday (06/02/24) so get your requests in! Here's another celebration ask on the books! This ask is from lovely @jesscolon529 I hope you enjoy, my darling! ♡ Warnings for BTC: Speaking of pregnancy, Fem/AFAB!reader, No use of y/n, feelings of self hate / insecurity, sad reader, comforting carmy, established relationship, not edited, Pics are just vibes, reader isn't described!! Established relationship

♡ 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 ♡

➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 ♡ ➵ 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 / 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵 ♡ ➵ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 ♡

It had been 12 weeks since you’d delivered you and Carmy’s first baby, and your postpartum depression was in full effect. It really had not much to do with your baby, and everything to do with you. You felt gross after you delivered, you barely even wanted Carmy to look at you which he took like a stab in the heart. 

When you came home, it wasn’t really different. Even though showering was…very painful, and you could really use the help and would appreciate that help very much - you couldn’t accept it. The idea of your husband seeing your naked body that you considered to be mangled and gross brought tears to your eyes. The idea of him watching blood run down the drain as you carefully rinsed your mangled bits he used to devour nearly every night made you want to throw up. 

There was still a tiny part of you that believed he did this to you, so he shouldn’t be upset with the result - but somehow that just made you more angry because what if he was upset with how your body looked now, and just wasn’t saying anything? And how dare he not like your body after all you’ve done for him, for your family?! 

You were stood in front of the full length mirror in the bedroom after you showered, observing yourself. You could have sex how, if you wanted. But you had convinced yourself you’d never let Carmy see you naked again in fear he would shriek and cover his eyes and run away, a bit dramatic - but still you couldn’t face the idea of your husband not loving you anymore because he saw what left you have to give after 9 months of hell.

You touch your now jiggly, wrinkly belly, pulling the skin back with your hands and sighing a bit, remembering how you used to look. Tears welled in your eyes, “you’re so fucking vain” you whispered in the mirror. 

“Baby?” Carmy nudged the door open and you shout 

“JESUS CHRIST!!! IM CHANGING! Shut the door Carmen!” 

He jumps a bit at your sudden outburst, a frown coming to his features “why?” He asked and shut the door behind him. You quickly grabbed your shirt, sliding it over your head and pulling it out so it wouldn’t rest over your belly. 

“Cause- cause I deserve privacy?” You snap, angry that he wasn’t just running away like you’d expected him - or wanted him to. 

“Privacy? From…y’husband?” He comes over and rubs your arms gently “baby- are you gonna tell me wha’s up?” He asked. 

Your lip wobbled, more tears coming to your eyes. You shook your head quickly and looked at the floor, squeezing your eyes shut and hot, thick, shameful tears roll down your cheeks. “I’m ruined now” you said, your voice watery and defeated. 

“What?” He wiped your tears and hugged you, rubbing your back “baby what’s been goin on? You haven’t let me see you in months. I miss you, y’know that, right?” He kissed the top of your head as you sniffle in to his shirt

“I- I’m ugly now an-and wrinkly and covered in stretch marks and- and all…different down there. What if you stop loving me?” You burst into sobs. He could barely contain the lump growing in his own throat as he hushed you and rubbed soothing circles into your back. 

“Princess” he said his voice cracking a bit and he led you to the bed, sitting and pulling you into his lap “I could never stop loving you. I would have to be warm and dead to stop loving you. Y’hear me? You, and little dude, are the only things in this world that matter t’me…and maybe the restaurant…but-“ he said, just to bring a tiny smile to your lips 

“Mmm? See there’s that smile” he wipes your tears “what’s been bugging you baby, show me. I promise, I love every bit of you, I love you more every day- I still don’t know how that’s possible, but you make it work somehow” he teased and you blush, hiding your teary cheeks in the crook of his neck as he rubbed your back and side soothingly. 

“You say that but what if you see me and you can’t help it” you sniffled a bit. 

“Not possible honey” he countered. “Cmon- tell me. What’s been buggin you?” 

“My belly. And - and my thighs are so big now. My belly is all…ugh. Wrinkly and has all these red marks on it. And my bellybutton looks all weird” you whine 

“This belly?” He rubs his palm over it “the belly that kept our son all warm and happy n’safe till it was time f’him t’come home?” He asked and you huff 

“Yes but..it’s not…normal anymore” you said and he hums in agreement. 

“Y’right, it’s better, it’s new, it’s gonna take you some gettin’ used to- but I love it. Can I tell y’somethin and y’promise not t’be mad?” He asked and cuddled you into him more, kissing your cheek and hairline, wherever he could reach. 

“Mm” you hummed, sniffling softly 

“Your body now is the most beautiful it has ever been. Because it’s yours. It’s my wife’s body, my beautiful Mrs.Berzatto, it’s your belly, and your thighs, and your new different pussy you’re so afraid of” he said playfully in your ear to which you giggle a bit, cupping his cheek and looking at him with tear rimmed eyes. 

“Y’not just lying to make me feel better?” You asked and he shook his head 

“Nope- all the truth babygirl. Why would I lie t’my best girl mm? My only girl” he kissed your lips gently and rubbed your hip over. 

“And - and you really like it?”  You pouted 

He raised his brows in the ‘are you fucking with me’ Carmy way, “want me to show you?” He asked and you felt heat in your cheeks, looking down shyly. “Okay-“ he laid you back on the bed carefully, pushing up your shirt. “I think-“ he starts kissing from your ribs, over your sternum, down, down, over your belly, making it a point to kiss each little dimple and mark 

“I fed you and little boy sooo good while you were pregnant, so these? You can blame me. But I love them as selfish as it makes me” he kissed over your hips. “And these” he squeezed them with his hands “mmm fuck I looove these- I can’t wait to hold these while I’m fuckin’ you mm?” He traveled his hands up your waist, squeezing gently and continuing to ravish you in kisses. 

“And these” he gently squeezed your breasts together in your nursing bra “are fucking amazing. And a literal life source for our boy. An’he’s growin so well. He’s in the 95th percentile, he’s so healthy, and chunky. Y’doin amazing babe.” He cups your cheeks. 

“The most important thing though baby is you. You’re still my beautiful, kind, thoughtful wife. And I wouldn’t change anything about you, not a single fuckin’ thing, hear me?” He kisses you deeply. 

You felt more tears running down your cheeks, but it wasn’t fear or sadness this time that brought them, 

It was gratitude.

[eoieopda]

darksided (myg)

Min Yoongi adored you. He'd simply never hurt you - unless you asked.

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Fem!Reader | Darksided AU Type: One-Shot - SMUT (You must be 18+ to ride this ride.) Sequel to foresight, but can be read as a stand-alone fic. Word Count: 4.4K Content: established relationship au; soft bf yoongi turned mean!dom!yoongi at the request of sub!reader; p in v penetration; unprotected sex/creampie (be safe, y'all); oral sex (m receiving); brief face-fucking; v fingering; squirting; a lil degradation and spit kink, as a treat; harsh language; after-care; also cavity-inducing fluff A/N: This was nine (9) pages in Word - my longest smut ever, all because this man-bun era has got me FUCKED up. Barely proofread (sorry ily). Check out my other fics here. Listen to the playlist here. 12/11/22 A/N: The sequel, blindsided, is finally here! check it out when you're done here :)

“When I signal you, that’s when you press the button, okay?” 

Your eyebrows furrowed as you stared down at his recording equipment – a galaxy in its own right, lit up like a Christmas tree. He may as well have asked you to defuse a bomb, except you couldn’t even identify the bomb. “There are approximately three thousand buttons in front of me right now,” you whined. 

He was exhausted and you knew it – you could feel it – but his patience with you was, as always, limitless. His fondness for you still shone through his eyes, overpowering the dark circles looming below, as if he hadn’t made a mistake in inviting you into his office. Then there was his laugh, surprising enough to smack you but so soft that it cradled you. “It’s the only one that says ‘record,’ jagiya.” 

A quick survey of the landscape before you indicated that this was a criminal oversimplification. There was a minimum of four options fitting his description, and all of them looked both breakable and expensive. You blinked down at the sound board, then back up at him, dumbfounded. “I think you made a mistake letting me in here.” 

Again, with the laugh – knocking you prone, nudging you closer to an early grave. Somehow, out of all of time and space, you got to exist in the same lifetime that he did. How lucky you were to have him, and his wind chime laugh all to yourself.  

You were lovesick and it was chronic. 

“Look down at your left hand – no, baby, don’t move it – that knob above your middle finger?” He was standing on tiptoe inside the booth, gesturing as if he was landing a plane. Your eyes darted up to follow the path of his fingers, then back down to the board. “Go diagonally up from that knob for two rows. Do you -” 

Overcome with a sense of unearned pride, you pressed down on the button, beaming. You certainly had not been signaled, but nonetheless, your efforts were rewarded. Importantly, that reward was now recorded for prosperity. Your favorite mixtape, the soundtrack of your racing heart, a lullaby: “I really couldn’t love you more if I tried.” 

His wide smile, like his tone, was sweet enough to cause a cavity. You were folded up like a pretzel in his chair, but somehow, your knees still seemed to wobble.  

You were lovesick and it was terminal. 

“Should I shut it off now until you’re ready to start?” You asked with cheeks glowing pink. 

He shook his head, still grinning. “I can cut it down. I do need you to cue the track, though – when I signal you.” He stated the last bit of his sentence slowly, shooting you a pointed look and then a wink. 

You were once lovesick and now you are dead. 

Finger hovering over the ‘play’ button, you watched him wide-eyed, anxious to avoid another mishap. His faith in you may have been unshakeable, but yours wasn’t – and this third mixtape was his magnum opus. You’d rather explode into a cloud of dust than mess up the tireless work he’d put into it so far.  

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, centering himself. Without looking, he raised his hand and pointed silently to you. Within seconds, your mind was blown. 

Min Yoongi contained multitudes. Despite your years together, it never ceased to amaze you how your beloved introvert – who said more with actions than anyone could communicate with words – could transform the way he did. Moments ago, his voice was a blanket, fresh out of the dryer, but now? Now, his presence electrified you. There was an unapologetic confidence – callousness, even - that you only saw when he rapped. 

Even his body language changed, like he’d evolved right before your eyes. You couldn’t look away because there was nothing else worth looking at – just him, top to bottom. The way he held his head, lips nearly touching the microphone, highlighted the deadly curve of his jaw. Carved from marble, luminescent and sharp. The strain of his neck, vibration visible in the column of his throat as he growled out his bars. Then down, down, down to his hands. His rings caught the light from above him, refracting slivers of white as his fingers moved with the beat.  

Oh, how you wanted them wrapped around your throat. 

Seeing him like this had you spellbound – feral, if you were being honest. As you watched, bottom lip clamped hard between your teeth, a heatwave crashed over you; it burned you from the inside out. Sometimes, you dreamt about this version of him. Your Yoongi adored you. He showered you with affection, respect, and praise. He’d never dream of hurting you. 

But would he, if you asked? 

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t hear him finish the take. 

“Aegiya?” There was a hint of concern in his voice that told you he’d called out to you more than once already. 

You swallowed hard and shifted in his chair. “Yes?” 

He slid his wireless headphones down until they rested around his neck. The bright red band leaned against his cheekbone as he tilted his head to the side in confusion. “Are you alright? You looked like you were in a trance.” 

He wasn’t wrong. You were hypnotized, and it was entirely his fault. 

When you merely hummed in response – too distracted by his features to form a coherent sentence – he opened the door to the booth and stepped out. He pulled the headphones off completely and set them down on the counter before walking straight to you. 

You were vibrating. Could he feel it? 

The trembling only intensified when he reached you. Looking down at you, he ran the pad of his thumb over your cheek. 

“Tell me.” He said, as if that brief touch informed him of the maelstrom spinning circles in your brain. “Something’s got you dizzy.” 

Psychic. 

Suddenly, you were shy. This man knew and loved every single aspect of you, and still you felt embarrassed. If you begged him to fuck you – not just make love to you – would he laugh at you? Even worse, would he be offended? You didn’t want him to think that what you had wasn’t already perfect because it was.  

His eyes scanned your face, narrowing just slightly as he tried to read your mind. The two of you were silent for what felt like hours before you saw it – his pupils dilating, offset by the spark of silent understanding. The corner of his mouth twitched when he cracked the secret code. The hand caressing your cheek lowered slowly until it came to rest on your throat, thumb harshly directing your jaw – and your gaze - upwards. 

“Is it me, baby?” He teased with a voice like velvet, cocking his head to the side with a smirk that left you stupid. “Have I got you dizzy?” 

Involuntarily, you whimpered. So stunned by his stare that you were speechless. Melting into a puddle. Dripping. 

He exhaled sharply through his nose – a cruel, quiet laugh - and his eyes darkened further. “I can’t give you what you want if you can’t tell me what that is.” 

Once again, you shifted in your seat. You were suddenly so painfully aware of every nerve in your body, each one tingling like a live wire. Even your thighs clenched, trying desperately to apply pressure where you needed it most. You craved him so badly that it ached. 

“I don’t want you to be gentle with me,” was your answer, though it sounded more like a question. “I - I know that you -” 

His hand shifted quickly from underneath your jaw. He now had your cheeks pinned between his thumb and middle finger, squeezing hard to cut off your sentence before you could finish it. There was a microscopic pause as his eyes searched yours for permission. You blinked and nodded to the fullest extent you could within his grasp. 

“Stupid girl. You know nothing.” 

Muffled by his hand, your weak moan was barely audible, but he could feel the way your breathing quickened. The rise and fall of your eager chest. The way your nipples, yet untouched, made themselves known through the fabric of the t-shirt you’d stolen from him. Draped in him but smelling like you.  

Blackcurrant, orange blossoms, vanilla. 

He leaned down, mouth now hovering beside your ear. The heat of his breath on your neck was maddening, but it was the way his lips brushed against your ear that proved fatal. When he spoke, it echoed in every one of your bones. A whisper heavy enough to bruise. “Get up.” 

You followed the lead of his hand over your mouth and rose to your feet. Sharply, he redirected your gaze to the seat you’d just left. It was inexplicable how something so faint could be so blatant. That nearly imperceptible spot, snitching on you; showing him how your body begged for him. 

“Such a messy girl, ruining my chair like that.” He tutted. “I should punish you, shouldn’t I? Should I ruin you, baby?” 

Held so still, your knees still trembled. Without his hand gripping your cheeks, you would’ve crumpled at his feet. Before you could do so yourself, he forced you downward. After all, your knees couldn’t buckle if they were digging into the hardwood. 

He released his grasp and used that same hand to push his hair away from his eyes. Your heart raced as if you were sprinting, and yet you were frozen in place. You didn’t know where to begin because you wanted everything.  

Your indecision prompted him to roll his eyes. “Do I have to do everything for you? Say it. What do you want?” 

“T-to touch you. Please,” you begged, “I want to feel you in my throat.” 

He beckoned you silently with a curl of his finger. You sat up further on your knees and reached out tentatively for the drawstring tied at the waistband of his joggers. 

“Stop.” He ordered, and you did. Looking down at your wide eyes, his smirk deepened. Your hands fidgeted uselessly in your lap as he began untying the drawstring himself – his slow pace was torturous. You'd have ripped them off his body if given the chance. “Open your mouth” 

Again, you did as you were told. 

It took everything you had not to drool when he lowered the waistband of his joggers just enough for his cock to spring out. Already throbbing, beige tip glistening with pre-cum in the half-light. He took himself in his hand and began to pump himself as he took a step towards your waiting mouth.

"Stick out your tongue."

Now, you couldn’t help it – and when he saw the string of saliva spilling from the tip of your tongue, he growled. 

“Fuck,” He breathed, sliding the fingers of his free hand into your hair and tugging. “Look at how badly you want to be used - you're begging without saying a word.” 

You couldn’t speak, but your eyes were screaming at him. Please. 

Teasingly, he tapped the tip of his cock against your tongue, hissing as he felt the wet heat of your mouth. But when you went to close your lips around him, he pulled your hair – and you – away. 

“Spit on it – slowly. Keep your eyes on me.” 

You felt a twinge between your thighs as he delivered his orders. You’d undoubtedly soaked through your little sleep shorts already, but his tone just then made a mess of you. You squirmed as you kneeled, feeling the rivulets of slick begin to trail down the innermost part of your thighs. And he hadn’t even touched you yet. 

Looking up at him from under the curtain of your lashes, you saw the wicked fascination flicker in his eyes. The way his breath hitched as he watched your spit fall from the ledge of your lips until it connected with his shaft. In your peripheral vision, you could see his cock twitch at the contact. 

“Now open.” Finally. 

A low moan broke from the depths of his chest as he slid into your mouth, and you couldn’t recall a more beautiful sound. As you pushed yourself further onto him, you hallowed your cheeks, following the vein running along the underside of his length with your tongue. 

You stared up at him through wet eyes. So full, you pleaded with yourself not to gag, to breathe steadily through your nose. Tip pushing past your soft palate, he grunted as he bottomed out. Without softening his gaze, he watched for your reaction – always so concerned, even when he was pretending not to be. To his surprise, you swallowed, allowing the tightness of your throat to squeeze him.

“You’re fucking filthy.” He muttered with his eyes screwing shut. His jaw fell open when you slid off him, swirling your tongue around the head of his cock once you reached it. His eyes followed suit, blown out pupils fixated on the spit dribbling down your chin; darkening at the obscene sound of him sliding through the suction you'd so masterfully generated. 

Pulling your hand from your lap, you reached out slowly for his balls. As your fingers massaged him, his grip on your hair got tighter. Almost imperceptibly, he began to roll his hips against your mouth. 

His panting was interlaced with curses as he fucked himself into your warmth. “Fit so fucking perfectly in your throat,” He grunted, “Like you were made to be my toy.” 

It startled you when he suddenly removed himself from you. Thoughtlessly, you whined – and then, immediately, you froze. Eyes darting back up to him, the anticipation of consequences prevented you from closing your mouth fully. You waited there on your knees, trembling, while your mascara pooled uselessly in the wells beneath your eyes. 

“Somebody feels entitled,” He scoffed as he glowered down at you. “You better be careful what you wish for.” 

Before you could process the speed of his movements, his arms hooked under yours and pulled you from the ground. Your legs ached, but as he loomed over you, you followed his unspoken order, backing yourself into a corner. With your shoulder blades pressed flush against the wall, he stepped forward and used his knee to push your legs apart. 

For a moment, it seemed like his façade was cast aside. He raised his hand slowly to caress your cheek, swirling soft circles into your flushed skin with his thumb. Out of habit, your eyes drifted shut and you leaned further into his touch. And when he leaned in, just as slowly, your slightly parted lips waited for a kiss that never came. 

“You’re just begging to be filled, aren’t you?” He asked in a whisper so sharp it stung. “Not loved but fucked.” 

You nodded shyly. “Y-yes,” You stuttered, “Please.” 

His lips still lingered closely enough to touch yours, to send shockwaves shooting down your spine, but he continued to withhold his affection. This was the first time – ever – that Yoongi had turned down an opportunity to kiss you. Until now, he didn't seem capable of doing so. 

“Please what?” 

“Fuck me. Please -” You keened as his hand began to drift from your cheek, down your neck. In the blink of an eye, every word you knew disappeared from your vocabulary. The tip of his index finger trailed down over the fabric of your stolen shirt, between the valley of your breasts, and came to rest at the hem.  

He pinched the seam between his fingers and tugged. “Part of me wants to tear this off you,” He mused with his head tilting to one side. His eyes remained locked on yours; the amusement in them was clear, even in the darkness. “But most of me wants to see you fucked out and stupid - in my shirt.” 

Your legs threatened to give out yet again. He was devastatingly handsome under normal circumstances, but this newly unearthed cockiness was ruinous. You bit down hard on your lip as he raised your shirt enough to access the waistband of your shorts. With his help, you shimmied them down until they dropped quietly at your feet. Quickly and clumsily, you stepped out of them and kicked them aside. 

Yoongi’s hand rose again to your face. His middle and ring finger were extended; the others curled down towards his palm. You didn’t need to be asked to open your mouth – it was the only response your eager mind could conjure. His fingers were cool against your tongue as you closed your mouth around them. And when he was satisfied with the lubrication you’d provided, he slid his fingers out from your hollowed cheeks with a lewd pop. 

“How badly do you want to come all over my fingers?”  

It’s a wonder there wasn’t a puddle beneath you, considering how those words made you gush. “I need it,” You pleaded with fluttering eyelids and bated breath, “Please touch me.” 

You whimpered and closed your eyes as you felt his fingers dive into the pool between your thighs. Every nerve lit up like a switchboard as he slipped through your soft folds. He scoffed at how wet you were – so soaked that it was audible in each millimeter of his movement. 

Simultaneous to his middle finger penetrating you, your head rolled back until it rested against the wall. Your mouth fell open, but you were too entranced to do much more than breathe as you acclimated to his presence inside you. He started slowly, curling his finger upwards as he pushed further inwards. Even at this pace, the otherwise dead air was filled with the sound of your sodden cunt. 

“You’re dripping already?" He let the tip of his finger rest against the spongy spot behind your pubic bone; the pressure was incredible, but he stayed torturously still. “And yet you’re so - tight.” Achingly slow, the pad of his finger spiraled against your g-spot. “I’ll have to stretch you out before I can bury my cock in you.” 

As his ring finger plunged inside of you, you cried out, head slumping forward against his shoulder. Sensing that you wouldn’t be able to hold yourself up for much longer, Yoongi grabbed the back of your right thigh with his left hand and pulled your leg up to rest against his hip. With this new angle, his fingers ventured even deeper until they bottomed out at the knuckle. He didn’t give you much time to adjust to the new sensation.  

As he fucked his fingers into you at a feverish pace, he continued his mind-numbing assault on your g-spot. Over and over, he toyed with you; thrusting, stretching, scissoring, and teasing as your arousal trickled into the palm of his hand. There was an intoxicating – unbearable – warmth burning in the pit of your abdomen. A sensation so all-consuming that your eyes rolled back in your head. 

Your walls clenched around him, sucking him in and begging for more as your helpless heart raced. “Oh my god,” You wailed, “Holy shit – Please, I’m - Yoongi!” 

Your orgasm hit you like a freight train. Never in your life had you fallen apart like that – shaking and speaking in tongues. Having sensed the swell of pressure, Yoongi knew exactly where this road headed; and he could tell that you were fighting it. “Don't hold back from me,” He growled.

And then the dam broke.  

A wicked grin danced across his face as the wave of pleasure crashed onto the floor below you. “Fuck. Look at this.” He pointed downward and your bleary gaze followed. Remnants of your orgasm had splashed onto his joggers as well as the hardwood. “Nobody could ever make you come like I can. Say it.” 

The words bubbled out of your chest, half-way between a sob and a moan. “Nobody can make me come like you.”

You were a shivering, spilling mess; and your ears were still ringing from how intensely your every muscle had clenched. Before your knee could buckle, you were abruptly swept up into his arms. With one arm wrapped tightly around your back, his free hand slid over the surface of his desk, sending various papers and cords rocketing towards the floor.

Once the space was cleared, he set you down and laid you out onto the cool surface. You were exhausted and thankful to be horizontal; though you knew he wasn’t yet finished with you. 

After all, he intended on ruining you. 

Through half-lidded eyes, you gazed up at him. The hair he’d so neatly tied into a bun at the top of his head had mutinied; inky tendrils were now splayed out haphazardly in different directions. You were fuck-drunk, but you swore the overhead light behind him encircled his head like a halo. It was all so unholy - the way he stood before the altar of your exposed core, with his face angelic and his throbbing cock in hand.

The hand not pumping his cock slid over your bent knee. It took tremendous effort, but you lifted your arm to place your hand on top of his. One tiny squeeze – a brief, loving check-in – received an echo. Then, just as quickly as it appeared, the fleeting moment of tenderness was gone. With each of your legs now trapped in his hold, he pulled you towards the very edge of the table. 

Once he was satisfied with your closeness, his focus switched to his access. He simply wasn’t content to leave your legs bent up at either side of him; so, he rested the backs of your legs against his shoulders and leaned forward until you’d nearly folded in half. 

He didn’t need to use his hand to center himself prior to entering you. His body understood the proportions of yours automatically; like you were puzzle pieces created to fit perfectly together. Though his intention may have been to penetrate you slowly, centimeter by centimeter, your slick was overwhelming. The usual ache you felt upon acclimating to his size was drastically reduced; and he bottomed out quickly, cursing. 

The fullness you felt was euphoric, and it left you mewling hopelessly under the weight of his body. He was buried deep, throbbing as your walls constricted around his width. It shocked your system when he slid out almost completely only to drive himself back into you. 

“Like a fucking vice grip,” Yoongi hissed as he picked up his already brutal pace. Every curve, every vein dragged maddeningly along your walls as he fucked you. “Do you hear how wet you are? Shit – your pussy is begging for me.” 

The only thing louder than the squelch of your cunt was skin hitting skin; close behind was the way your name spilled from his lips in a flurry of expletives. You, on the other hand, were nearly incoherent. With every thrust, he knocked another thought loose until eventually, you had nothing left.  Relentlessly, his cock grinded against your g-spot, leaving you too mesmerized to recall your own name. 

There was a sheen of sweat above his knitted brows; and his bottom lip was now trapped between his gritted teeth. He was close and you knew it. The depth of his thrusts didn’t falter, but his steady pace was getting harder for him to maintain. You felt the rubber band inside you beginning to fray - on the brink of snapping and shooting you into orbit like a sling-shot. 

“Baby,” The soft, shaky voice caught his attention. He opened his eyes and focused hard on you – your flushed cheeks, and trembling lips. As he surveyed you, his resolve began to evaporate; his expression softened immediately. There he was: your Yoongi. “You’re gonna make me come again.” 

As your walls clenched tight around him, the edges of your vision began to blur. You watched his face as he came shortly after you, studying how delicately his eyelashes fluttered as the warmth of his release filled you. In that moment, it was the two of you, toppling in slow-motion off the edge of the universe. Irrevocably in love - heaving chests, shuddered moans, names whispered in the place of prayers. 

He shifted his arms to allow your quivering legs to fall from his shoulders. When the hands on either side of your head could no longer hold up his weight, he collapsed onto you. With his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck, you could feel his breathing begin to slow as his cock softened inside you. 

You were nearly delirious when you felt his lips buzz against your skin. You were too far gone to understand what he was too exhausted to communicate. “Hmm?” You hummed, wordlessly asking him to repeat himself.

He groaned with the effort of pulling himself away from your embrace. He only traveled far enough to glance over at you. “I said, I think several of my past lives just flashed before my eyes,” He stated matter-of-factly. Within seconds, his eyes crinkled up at the corners and his grin grew. That soft chuckle wasn’t far behind. 

“I don’t know where I am.” You admitted with a sheepish laugh. After a moment, you amended that thought, “I don’t know who I am.” 

Yoongi placed a gentle kiss below your ear – the only part of you he could reach without sitting up fully. “I have no idea. How did you get in my house?” As you rolled your eyes, he bumped the tip of his nose against your jaw, too tired to tease you much more than that. “But now that we’re both completely spent, I’d like to go back to being soft with you – for now.” 

He tried to wink at you, but both of his lead-lined lids closed in unison.  You hummed thoughtfully as you ran lazy fingers through his hair, like the decision required serious deliberation. You paused, then giggled.  “Permission granted, my love. You may proceed.”

He was quiet for several moments before he stood bolt upright. Startled, you propped yourself up on your elbow and looked to him. He turned towards the booth and then back to you.

His eyes were wide as a blush swept over his cheeks. "Aegiya, did you forget to stop the recording?"

Sequel (posted 12/11/22).

[moonbaby26]

Title: Trust

(Chapter 19 of Doflamingo’s Marine Series)

*Crossposted to AO3 Here*

Chapter Pairings: Doflamingo x Reader, Smoker x Reader (in the past)

Chapter Warnings: language, toxic relationships, Doflamingo is still insane, breeding kink

Chapter Synopsis: As the marines begin to react further in response to Doflamingo’s public ensnarement of you and their true helplessness in it all, the warlord still grapples with the mistakes of his past that he now refuses to repeat.

Chapters: 1,  2,  3,  4,  5,  6,  7,  8,  9,  10,  11,  12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19

Fic Masterlist

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——————————

Only once in Sengoku’s life could he remember ever truly yelling at this woman. And he’d had tears running down his face the night that he’d done so.

Five years ago, when they’d also been on the phone together, oceans apart much like they were now. 

And to his shame, in the grief of that moment, Sengoku had had the gall to accuse Tsuru of holding back. He’d told her that her softness had allowed Doflamingo one too many second chances.

Sengoku had blamed her for still wishing to save what was already long gone within that boy, and thereby enabling every subsequent tragedy which followed from his actions. 

He remembered yelling that it should have been Doflamingo lying cold and dead two decks below her in that makeshift morgue on her warship, and not his precious Rosinante instead.

He’d berated a woman he trusted more than any other in this world. As if she hadn’t been sitting there in silence with that very same pain in her heart that night. 

Sengoku had been too consumed in his own emotions then, when it’d only been Tsuru who had had to personally oversee the retrieval of the body once Doflamingo’s ship had again escaped over the horizon.

Only she had been the one barking orders at her entirely confused crew. Telling them to treat a former Donquixote executive’s remains with care befitting one of their own as they’d unknowingly dug Sengoku’s adopted son from the still falling snow with their bare hands.

“I gave you as many days as I could.” Is what she told him now.

And her voice was as cold as that snow must have been then. Though she still didn’t yell at him in the way he deserved. Tsuru didn’t return that cruelty that he’d given her those years ago.

Not yet.

The fleet admiral’s eyes were closed behind his glasses in guilt regardless. His forehead rested against his hand in his disgust for what these webs had really become.

Somehow they had all become entwined.

Somehow this nightmare had still never stopped.

Rosinante had sworn to him that he would not go back to his brother in the end. Because they had all known the danger and most likely final result. 

And Tsuru had never expected you to have needed to make that same promise to them.

Rosinante had gone to Minion Island willingly. Just as you’d gone to Scylla, specifically requesting leave there that Momonga hadn’t known enough to deny.

And Doflamingo had been ready and waiting both times.

Neither you or Rosinante had left that devil again after stepping willfully back into his strings.

And why?

Why could Doflamingo never be sated? Why did it always have to be those that they already loved that he took?

“Every day, Tsuru. Every day I have been asking the Five Elders of when enough is enough. Or even for them to give me a single goddamn reason. A reason of why he’s now become this untouchable.”

Sengoku had taken all the criticism from his admirals, from Garp, and from Tsuru. But he had never stopped working towards a resolution behind the scenes.

Because this was so deeply personal.

It didn’t matter that you were only a captain, only a single marine in his ranks of thousands.

He’d never wanted Tsuru to have to go through this as he had with Rosinante.

But today’s newspaper and the lies within had been her final straw. 

This phone line was encrypted. But it may not have mattered today. She was that furious.

“I want you to understand that this call is simply a courtesy. I will not be returning to HQ. I will not be maintaining the blockade here. Cipher Pol is welcome to keep chasing my ship as they see fit. But we’re crossing the calm belt and heading for Dressrosa.”

His most steadfast vice admiral was now abandoning her post in Lyra.

“I’ll deal with Cipher Pol.” Sengoku muttered. He’d have to lie that he had given her specific orders to leave. 

Lyra was still under full World Government quarantine. No one was allowed in or out as they finished whatever bioweapon testing they’d really chosen that island and its rebels as horrific test subjects for.

Tsuru had hated that too of course, as anyone with a soul should.

But this additional stress with Doflamingo had broken what remained of that dam and all she’d been holding in. She would not be cooperating a moment further.

“I also want you to check with Mariejois for a marriage registration in his name. I suspect he’s already signed her over to him if he was willing to make this public declaration and antagonize us outright this way.”

Sengoku’s eyes finally opened again there. 

He also knew Tsuru well enough to understand that the false calmness as she said these things meant nothing of her true intentions.

“And if he has done that…what are you going to do with that information?” He asked her with the tension far clearer in his own tone.

The silence hung for a moment.

“You understand what he’s really doing, don’t you?” Her voice sounded briefly more cutting there.

“I don’t try to understand the reasonings of the insane.” Sengoku’s bitterness was reemerging as well.

An enemy would always be an enemy. And Sengoku lived for the day that Doflamingo’s immunity would finally fail him.

But that day was not today.

“He lost his previous marine. By his own hand.” Tsuru said next, somber but factual.

An assumption they always knew must be true. Though Doflamingo had never once confessed to Rosinante’s murder to them outright. 

“He thinks she’s strong enough to survive his madness where so many others have not. He’s betting on that. Because he’s terrified of ending up alone. He always has been.” She said so surely, with that additional impatience that meant she would be hanging up momentarily.

The fleet admiral’s eyes narrowed. But he knew it was already futile. He could stop his own admirals easier than he could this woman once she had made up her mind.

“And how do you know this isn’t exactly what he wants you to do, Tsuru? Just to draw you in as well?”

“I’m an old woman. So it doesn’t matter anymore. I’m not letting her endure this alone. Just be ready to mobilize if the winds change in Mariejois.” Her finality was clear.

And it still hurt. Be it today, five years ago, ten years ago, twenty, or more. Sengoku had lost too many loved ones already. 

One day she wouldn’t come back to him either.

This was the way of their world.

“Be safe, Tsuru-chan.” Sengoku’s voice quieted. “Please.”

The snail’s eyes looked out in that knowing silence.

“You know my answer to that.” She spoke one last time before hanging up.

And he could only smirk sadly. “I do.”

Sengoku, Garp, and Tsuru had once considered themselves a trio. They used to laugh about inescapable danger.

Death will come when my purpose is done.

That had been their irreverent rhyme of a saying. One far easier said in the arrogance of youth. And not from the aged veterans they’d become, just trying to protect their vulnerable seeds of the future.

——————————

“Oh, boo hoo! Just get over it already! If you didn’t want to share your notes, then you should have encrypted your data better!” Caesar’s golden eyes had gleamed as he floated closer, the newspaper still spread taut within his grip.

He was grinning too, flipping through the pages again and the pictures that graced them. “What a lovely couple! So how could you be so selfish as to not grant their hearts’ desire?”

Vegapunk made another disinterested noise, looking through large goggles and still trying to resume the experiment he had so frustratingly been interrupted from when Caesar had first burst into his lab. 

“If you had any ethics or common sense at all, you would drop this subject immediately. It’s not our place to interfere in something like that.” The older scientist tried to rebuff again.

“You think I don’t have common sense!?” Caesar’s voice was immediately more grating as his thin lips moved back into a scowl.

“I look the other way repeatedly for you,” Vegapunk reminded, already used to these theatrics from the other. Though still watching the beaker in front of him as its contents began to change in density and color. 

“I’ve ignored your greed and resulting moonlighting of still selling illicit compounds right from our backdoor. As well as your questionable tastes in companionship at all hours in your quarters. Your ‘socializing’ is quite loud and distracting.” Vegapunk also criticized.

Caesar blinked. So what? When he did have escorts over to visit from Dressrosa, they were paid very well for their trip. And he’d be damned if after spending that much of his payments from Joker on such entertainment, that he would have just let those women lay in his bed quietly. 

“Ugh, spare me your false modesty! You dirty old hypocrite.” Caesar clucked, waving a gloved hand dismissively even as he now floated to Vegapunk’s other side like an insistent child. 

“These two are my friends, I’m telling you. And they are desperate to start a family!” He just went on, then trying to shove the newspaper in front of the other scientist again.

“I already read it.” Vegapunk responded flatly. “And you don’t have any friends. I know Doflamingo must be your client. There is no other reason for you to be as fixated as you are with him. Money and cruelty are the only things which have ever enticed you to this degree.”

“Well he enjoys my creativity! And he knows a real genius when he sees one!” Caesar didn’t even bother to fully deny the accusation that time. If Vegapunk really was going to tattle on him just for taking money under the table, he already would have. Though Caesar was sure even Dr. Vegapunk didn’t know all the things they’d been cooking up together.

“He’s just using you. And you’re insecure enough to encourage it.”

“He is not just-” Caesar’s quick temper nearly got away from him all the way there, before he briefly bit his own lip to stop it. “Okay, fine! Doflamingo wants a child with her. I don’t even know this girl or care what she thinks! But look at the full picture. What happens to queens that don’t hold up their end of the bargain in giving a man like that his heirs?”

Caesar rather gleefully made an exaggerated pantomime of moving his finger in a sharp slice against his own throat to this.

And finally, only at that insinuation of barbarism to a supposed innocent like yourself, did Vegapunk actually look him in the eyes. Secretly sympathetic as that fool could often be. 

“And how could I trust he wouldn’t still harm her regardless?” The older man asked, rightfully skeptical.

“Because it doesn’t matter of course! Doflamingo will be here tomorrow night to pick this up either way!” Caesar exclaimed, lifting the small vial he’d already made from his gaseous coat pocket. 

“But my serum for her will be meaningless if he isn’t capable of delivering on the other half of the equation!” Caesar attempted to reiterate that need for urgency as well. “After all these years of working together, you’re really just going to leave me hanging like this, Vegapunk?”

“You should be embarrassed is what you should be. You got yourself into this mess. And now you come to my lab, interrupting me just to admit you don’t know how to mitigate something as simple as varicoceles in the testes?” Vegapunk asked with further incredulousness.

Yet Caesar ignored that heavier insult just this once, eyes widening as he pointed at the other scientist instead. “Aha! So you did already look at the data to figure out a solution! I knew it! Your ego couldn’t help it, could it? You prideful monster!”

“Of course I can correct it! At least temporarily at least. His lineage factors are a mess of recessive alleles.” Vegapunk did look properly shamed for only that moment to be so called out though. “But how far were you planning on going? What’s in your serum that could conflict with mine if I do make one? Is this full blown eugenics?“

Caesar paused, his seeming victory only weakened in his belated realization that Vegapunk may have indeed noticed more disfunction in Doflamingo’s bloodline than he had at first glance.

But Caesar would never admit aloud that his own concoction could be even further insufficient then. Yet he knew just how to give Vegapunk that extra, personal investment to do the rest of the hard work for him.

“He was aware of Vinsmoke’s wife.” Caesar admitted abruptly there, feigning an extra somber expression even if this was actually the truth. “And Doflamingo was explicit about wanting both his baby and the womb owner to survive without permanent damage this time. So I’d say whatever it takes to ensure that.”

Vegapunk lifted up his goggles then, watching the gas logia user carefully. Those stressed brow lines were now wrinkling all the way up the older scientist’s unnaturally large forehead.

He had indeed taken that emotional bait when it came to thinking of Sora’s death.

A tragedy that his weaker heart did not think worth repeating.

“If you’re going to be like Judge to do this to some poor woman either way…it might as well be safe. Give me your serum so I can analyze it. I’ll come up with something.” Vegapunk sighed.

And Caesar smiled.

It really was too easy.

————————— 

The sun was beating down by midday. Hot and relentless, just the way Doflamingo wanted it to be for this as he stretched his long legs across your lap, relaxing on his outdoor couch together by the pool.

At least he was relaxing anyway. You were quite a different story.

You hadn’t yet recovered from his confessions of this morning. And well…also from the totality of every other thing that had occurred from the moment he’d first kissed your hand in front of those camera flashes in the bloodied ballroom in Scylla to today.

And it had only been days, not weeks since then. But he lived a fast paced life.

One which you were now living too.

The newspaper had finally come as well, just as over the top and simultaneously aghast and excited by his manufactured drama as expected. The world would be salivating to see the navy’s next official reaction to your and his sordid love story he was sure.

But you’d refused to read a word of it yet. 

Just as you also refused the untouched food still on the tray in front of you.

Only Doflamingo and his crew ate. Enjoying lunch and drinks as he took a few more phone calls while the other Donquixote members either sunbathed or played cards in the shade beneath the archways.

He’d left the palace gates closed. There were no money hungry sycophants in their little string bikinis bouncing around to distract him today.

He already had the pretty toy he wanted most right now.

Though you had needed a bit of help. He’d made you change out of the ugly clothes he knew you’d been hiding your wounds in this morning. 

So you were currently in a very short sundress he’d chosen instead. One he could tell you hated as his gaze rarely left your more exposed figure and bared shoulders while he talked on the phone.

He didn’t conduct any business conversations he was too concerned with you hearing though. He made sure of that. It was mostly just receiving flattery as other high ranking contacts of his called to offer their mix of congratulations and surprise.

Everyone wanted to know a wedding date. They wanted to know his next move with the marines. And if they knew him even a little better than most, then they were trying to get a sense of his motives too.

What was in it for Joker?

Surely Donquixote Doflamingo didn’t have a heart.

They all knew he already had money, power, and more lovers waiting in the wings than he could possibly run his cock through on any given night.

So what the hell could a random marine provide to him now?

And such burning curiosity about you apparently extended to his uninvited guests as well, just as Doflamingo had ended another call, returning the receiver back to his snail beside him.

The Tontattas had been especially bold ever since your arrival in Dressrosa. As if they really thought he hadn’t noticed their little scouts flitting about more and more often.

Target practice was all he’d call them whenever they failed to stay on his blind side though. And he enjoyed the way he did see you startle as that bullet string left his fingertip without warning.

The resulting pop of the then exploding terracotta roof tile he’d hit had his officers looking briefly skyward as well.

But there was no blood spatter running down the eaves this time, a rare miss for him.

“Just clearing some of the bigger bugs we get around here.” Doflamingo chuckled as his vague explanation to you anyway, kicking his shoes off then as he kept his legs still across your thighs. “They’re a nuisance.”

“I didn’t see anything.” You said quietly. The first words you’d spoken in a few hours at least.

“They’re fast.” He answered simply, albeit smiling just to hear your voice again.

It was true he hadn’t intended to have this morning go as oddly as it had with you.

But he hadn’t expected to find your tired eyes boring through him just like his brother’s used to either. Only complimented by the haunting smell of the cigarette smoke as it’d drifted from you like a vengeful ghost, there to grab a hold of him as soon as he’d reentered his suite.

It was too many memories for him, too many feelings all at once. And things had just started falling from his lips afterward.

He’d told you how you did remind him of Corazon. 

And how he couldn’t lose that twice.

How badly he wanted his blood family back.

And how he would make you be the means to that end in any way necessary.

But he hadn’t yet taken your contraceptive pills away either. Because you were this stressed already, even with you believing there was still more time for you.

He’d let you think you were still being protected by those pills for now. Not so much as a real mercy to you, but more because he wanted you to eat again. He needed you to relax again.

So that he could have you functioning to do what he needed to do with you. It made his life easier if you weren’t in a full blown breakdown twenty-four seven.

Though since you were already this upset this morning. There was one other thing he’d planned to now get out of the way as he felt that first bead of sweat running down his chest in this oppressive heat.

Doflamingo smiled wider at you as he slid his legs back off of your lap for his bare feet to meet the warm ground.

This dangerous idea was yet another reason he’d shut everyone but his most trusted out of the courtyard now.

“I think we should cool off, love.” He said so casually then too. His head turning to look briefly towards that tranquil water which sparkled in the sunlight without a soul yet within it.

And his sunglasses were just as reflective as that deep water when he looked back to you. You and the dark realization already beginning across your own face while his hand grazed your bandaged thigh.

That wrapping would just have to be redone again.

“I’ll get in if you do.” He promised then, but unable to keep the cruelty from his resulting smirk either. You were just too smart as he saw the correct assumption fill your eyes, hungover or not. You were learning the proper times to assume the worst in his intentions.

“But yes…you first. I want to see you swim for me.” He confirmed as his smirk grew into a grin.

“You already know I’m not a devil fruit user. A test isn’t necessary.” Came your first attempt at argument regardless.

And he’d known it would be this way. He had no illusions of you going easily to anything right now.

His executives were already getting up though, listening to you both as they began to spread out around the pool.

He had warned them of this earlier.

“Just like we knew my brother wasn’t hiding a power from us either?” Doflamingo tutted at you anyway. “Official records can lie, darling. And you’re so good at what you do. I just need to be sure this time. I’d hate to ever carry doubt of my own wife…that’d just be miserable for me.”

For him.

At least he said it out loud this time.

Because his own emotions were all he thought of as he refused any further stalling on your part. The sooner this was over, the faster he could return to the pleasure he wanted.

“I’ll be waiting for you on the steps. That will be your only way out.” Doflamingo spoke so calmly, even as he’d jerked you off that couch by your arm when he’d stood.

And you’d still almost set him off balance in return when the struggle began. No small feat for someone already injured and only partly his size. But his strings pulled your legs out from under you with equal vigor before you could kick him.

He had to be fast, very fast, throwing you before your strong grip could get a solid hold on him either.

There was no guilt in him either of course. No matter how many times you’d already gotten further upset over this exact kind of rough treatment.

Part of his shirt sleeve which you’d ripped still ended up in the pool however. Floating, torn on the water’s surface once that large splash collapsed back in on itself after you’d hit the water.

“She sank!” Trebol exclaimed, sounding delighted.

“Everyone does at first. It’s whether she comes back up or not.” Diamante answered slightly more sensibly, but looking at the still rippling water with an eager anticipation all his own. 

Doflamingo knew there was some jealousy at play in their excitement of course. They thought you hadn’t yet earned your place at his side.

And only they’d seen the mess he’d really been after Rosinante. To which they’d all vowed never again.

They had every right to be this overprotective of him now.

Doflamingo’s own grin had vanished with your body as he’d stalked the edge of the pool in that brief time between. His height giving him an excellent vantage point while the still disturbed water now lapped the sides.

“How long do you want to wait, Doffy?” Pica was the only one already sounding anxious by comparison. Pica’s devil fruit could lift the entire courtyard, and dump all that water in an instant if his master only bid it.

“Her wounded leg certainly won’t help her. Give it a little longer.” Doflamingo answered firmly.

He couldn’t let them rush things. Because this trial was actually two fold after all.

Part one was just to clear the last of his anxiety of your hiding any secrets like his last Corazon.

And part two…

“Remember, if she comes up at any of the sides, don’t let her out. She only leaves the pool through me.” Doflamingo reminded his men as he now removed the rest of his torn shirt.

He had seen the warped shape of you finally moving along the bottom. You weren’t paralyzed, though he hadn’t truly expected you to be. His stress could now shift to what he had to do next to himself. 

His men hadn’t liked this portion of the plan earlier when he’d said it in private. And they certainly didn’t enjoy seeing it in action now as Doflamingo first stepped off the side and onto the underwater stairs which led to the pool’s bottom.

But he’d timed it well, wading in only in his capris pants. The cooler water was all the way to his knees just as your head at last broke the surface.

You looked initially furious of course. Spitting out water and barely staying afloat, fighting your weakened leg just as he’d thought while you kicked hard to stay upright. Your feet were nowhere near the bottom in that deepest section of the pool.

And just as you’d spun to curse or even fight one of them, his breath had caught as he felt the paralysis begin through his own lower body all at once when the water met his thighs.

Doflamingo’s power was fully ripped away as he landed on his ass on one of those submerged steps. The water then up to his chest so quickly as he panted, his weight falling back just enough to touch his shoulders to the pool wall.

He’d barely managed to keep his arms above the water. Now only able to move them weakly as they laid limply stretched on either side of him along the pool’s edge.

This was much deeper than the time he’d sat in the bath with you. That time had only made him feel pleasantly sluggish on top of disconnecting from his devil fruit.

But right now, he couldn’t even have stood up if he’d tried.

And if he slipped further down or fell forward instead…

“So you can swim.” Doflamingo spoke through his now labored breathing, forcing a smile regardless of that near atrophy then spreading into his chest muscles. 

There was still a very specific high in this for him of course. The rush of experiencing such primal fear he rarely got to play with. Not when he was so much stronger than anyone else he normally faced. 

His crew was horror stricken to silence however. But the executives were keeping the officers dutifully back. Letting their insane master do as he wished. Even if it meant now handing himself to you on a platter just to see your reaction.

This second test was him wishing to confirm that additional difference between you and his brother in the end. 

And all the more reason he really had thrown you into the deep as violently as he could.

Because humans showed their true colors most in times of duress. And he already had an idea of what you really were. 

But he wanted to show the others. And he wanted to remind himself after he’d briefly seen his brother staring back at him this morning.

“The fuck.”

He saw you mouth those two words more than you actually said them as you finally saw him and his too precarious placement on those steps.

Your eyes narrowed and you took a sharp breath before going immediately back under.

It was easier for you to swim just beneath the surface, not fighting to keep yourself above it as the shape of you then moved towards him quicker than even he’d expected.

And he could still feel everything so acutely too as his body beautifully suffered. Your soft hands as they opened against his bare chest. Your knees as they bumped against his inner thighs.

You emerged right in front of him in no time at all, shoving him to put his back harder against that pool wall. The texture was so rough, scraping against his shoulders as he breathed louder.

“Was I already slipping, my love?” Doflamingo asked, trying to keep his head raised to watch you as a chuckle rumbled through him. You were fully holding his torso up by then.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!? You think this shit is funny!?” You bitched loud enough that every member of his crew surely heard you that time.

And it was a little frustrating to him, not to be able to just kiss you then and there with that lovely fear still in your eyes.

But he couldn’t move his body enough to do it. So he had to settle for another intoxicated smile instead. He couldn’t get enough of you like this. 

“You surpass every expectation…you really do.” He tried to purr through his panting.

Because he knew it.

It wasn’t just about this silly game for you. It wasn’t anything about this goddamn pool at all really.

Your eyes said everything you were feeling.

And so Doflamingo laughed, even as your smaller arms tried to catch under his and force him up one stair step at a time. Wet skin to wet skin as you fought his dead weight with no help from his crew.

Donquixote Doflamingo could make anyone do anything. He could beat them, break them, cut them, or shoot them.

But he couldn’t make someone care. 

Not the way you did, so naturally and sincerely.

You were too obvious, and he was loving every moment even as his back finally fell out flat and hard to the ground. Laying beside the pool with only his legs then still in the water as you nearly fell on top of him after forcing him out.

“You are too damn big! You fucking asshole!” You were breathing harder, in clear pain for the unexpected exertion you’d just endured.

No, you were not at all the next Rosinante in his mind at least.

Because your feelings for him were different than that, and his anxiety of this morning had finally quieted in this affirmation.

The heated air now against Doflamingo’s skin revitalized him rather quickly too. Only his knees were still bent over the pool edge with his calves and feet in the water as he grabbed you quickly before you could think twice.

“And you were so upset this morning…and for what?” He teased, pulling you down onto his chest to stop you from getting away. 

He didn’t care if the girls in his crew would already be blushing now. 

The two of you were laid in quite the compromising way then, glistening in the sunlight together.

Doflamingo was already strong enough again to grab one of your hands as he forced it over his still racing heart, continuing to talk to you. “Yes, you’re a marine. But the last one that lived with me aimed a pistol to this instead.” He said in reference to that hotly beating muscle inside, his mouth almost against yours too by then. “If I hadn’t answered with my own, none of this would be possible. Do you understand? He wanted to erase me…and you…” Doflamingo smiled, searching your still emotional eyes from behind his glasses.

“You only want to save me.”

He kissed you right after those words had left his lips, pulling you to him even tighter as he forced his tongue up into your mouth. 

He might have heard Baby 5 gasp. 

Maybe Dellinger had made a retching sound.

But they’d just have to get used to it. 

You were here to stay. And soon enough they’d have a new little brother or sister to go along with this perfect family addition.

—————————

“Vice Admiral Tsuru has abandoned her post in Lyra and is no longer updating her coordinates. At least on our channels.” Tashigi said quietly. “The fleet admiral has ordered no one to speak to the press. And there is still a travel embargo in place to Dressrosa per HQ. No navy ships are allowed to port there until further notice. This order will be strictly enforced by the sailors of base G-5 and their commander Vice Admiral Vergo.”

Smoker remained silent, looking out to sea as his subordinate gave her latest updates from the bulletins that had been coming periodically across the snails all day.

Some transmissions were official, some more secondhand, leap frogged in communications from navy ship to navy ship here in the New World as everyone clamored to make any real sense of this new humiliation.

“We’ll still beat Tsuru there.” Smoker finally said gruffly.

He was standing alone otherwise.

Even as much of a rookie as Tashigi still was, she was the only one willing to approach him after he’d exploded on the rest of the crew earlier.

Smoker had yelled, asking how braindead they had to be to believe these steaming piles of dogshit being purported as the truth about you now.

And he could rage at his own men to knock sense into them all he wanted. But he knew their opinions would now reflect the majority of marines regardless.

Doflamingo was purposefully cutting off your support.

Just as Smoker and Aokiji had both assumed that pirate would further try to.

Yet that didn’t mean that Smoker was reacting well either. And he was certain Aokiji would be laid over a bar somewhere in Marineford by tonight.

“Are you okay…Captain?”

Tashigi’s damned soft voice only irritated him further as he bit against his cigars. “Shut off all our snails from here out until Dressrosa is in sight. Then start the S.O.S. signals. Tsuru has the right idea about going dark. There’s nothing else we need to know about this. We stick to the plan and that’s the end of it.”

“Yes, Captain.” She saluted only half heartedly however before walking away to deliver those orders to the communications room.

She even had the audacity to look back over her shoulder too. Her concern so insultingly etched over every bit of her body language as Smoker tried and failed to focus only on the ocean’s windswept whitecaps still in the distance.

He was a practical man. A straight forward man who loathed the idea of ever living within the failures of the past.

Everything should only be the next step forward. The next answer to what existed now, not to what was before.

But even his resolve was not enough to overcome this twisting thing, now eating through his heart and mind as he went through cigar after cigar.

He didn’t care if you hated him any longer.

He only cared if you hated yourself. And if he had so stupidly contributed to it in the end when he’d thought he’d only been pressing you to be better.

You had never been in love with him. Smoker was still certain of this. You’d just been killing time. The two of you were friends that’d gone too far, because it had felt good and you’d both been so similar.

He could trust you and you could trust him. And for almost two years that had been enough.

Until it wasn’t. Until he’d wanted more and it had started to hurt. But you’d never change. And you couldn’t understand why it was wrong. 

Smoker had tried to pull back, expecting you to see it and cut him off with a vengeance. He had no insecurities that made him need to be the first to end it.

He’d wanted you to. To say you’d dumped him so you could walk on with your head held high. You’d needed that win far more than he did.

But you’d clung to him in your own way. And he’d been so irritated by it. Because in every other aspect of your life you were one of the fiercest women he’d ever known.

Yet you just wouldn’t walk away from him as many times as he’d tried to push you towards freedom.

The true end in his mind, being that last time the two of you had ever been physically intimate. Both your ships had been in a port in the East Blue at the same time. He had tried to have an honest conversation with you alone then. Because he’d never wanted to do something that serious over the phone.

But you’d wanted to go drinking instead, and he’d gotten all the more frustrated. Culminating in bending you over in the bathroom of the bar as he’d used himself up again inside of you.

He’d still wanted you so fully and he’d hated it. Because he’d seen your own anger and hurt. Drunk as you’d been, wanting his attention and affection even in the aftermath. 

He didn’t enable you further to give it that night though as he’d only refastened his pants and helped you straighten your skirt before making sure you made it back to your ship safely.

You were never ready to listen to him. And you’d probably cried that night. He’d stayed awake the entire time on his own ship, waiting by his snail.

Surely he’d thought you’d call cursing and fussing by then. That you’d finally break up with him and wake up to what you were really doing to yourself.

But it was so much worse than he’d ever believed.

Because the next time he’d seen you had finally been in Mariejois. And he couldn’t wait any longer by then. He’d prepared to say what you wouldn’t and cut you loose. 

And he’d known you wouldn’t handle it well. Tashigi had followed him to the courtyard, worrying as always. But Smoker had felt a rare dread in himself that morning.

Much like he did today.

You’d been using him to feel something. And he’d let you, until the day he couldn’t anymore.

It’d hurt like hell.

And it still hurt because he knew you’d learned nothing even as many times as he’d tried to show you. 

You’d pour yourself into every goddamn other thing but actually saving yourself. Chiefly your career and your shitty taste in men, himself included. 

You didn’t trust yourself to deserve better. You didn’t know your real worth. And now the absolute worst fucking candidate Smoker could ever think of had to have learned this about you too.

Smoker had done his damndest to make you take flight.

And all you’d done was double back right into the strings of the next man in waiting. 

One that wasn’t a man at all, but a demon to be beaten back before he broke your wings entirely.

But did you want Doflamingo to lose when it came to you? That was a question Smoker still couldn’t answer either. Despite all his bluster, defending you so doggedly before his own crew.

All he could really do would be to try and wake you one more time. 

And hope that this would finally be enough to be different somehow. That you would want to be free instead of just holding tighter to the chains you’d already made in your own mind.

The ones Doflamingo surely kept tightening once he had found them.

Hell itself couldn’t have dreamed of a worse combination than the two of you.

———————————

    T⨂  BE 

CONTINUED

———————————

Thanks for reading!

Author’s note: I’m pretty sure that in canon Law is the only person ever shown knowing of Rosinante’s devil fruit ability. For purposes of this story, I’m assuming some of the marines Rosi served with ended up also knowing. And Doflamingo dug up that information after his death, bothered by just how much else his brother may have been hiding from him. I didn’t want to spoil Doffy’s “are you or aren’t you a witch?” pool trick by posting this note at the beginning. 🫣

[areyouwell]

Nostophilia

Noun: An extreme fondness for returning home. For returning to where the heart belongs.

Ch.10

Ch.9, Ch.8, Ch.7, Ch.6, Ch.5.5, Ch.5, Ch.4, Ch.3, Ch.2, Ch.1 <-

Pairing: Mutant!Reader x Logan Howlett

Warnings: none

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: did y'all really think i was gonna leave it like that? im mean, but im not that mean <3

Taglist:@badbishsblog @reidsworld @idioticstar @toogaytofunctiondangit @ghostyv @wolviesgirl @over-bi-the-wayside @justice4billiam @holyhumorliteraturelight @cxptainbuck @sseleniaa @sadslasher13 @yallgotkik @whyamistillontumbler @maddiedinosaur @bethexo07 @pwpwppeepeoor @y08h

“Hey firefly,” Logan murmured as he set his jacket down on the back of the only chair in the room. The only piece of furniture in the room. It was unspeakably cruel, he thought, how much of your life you’d spent in clinical rooms such as this one, only to spend the rest of eternity in the exact same setting. The sphere of shadow pulsed dully with light like usual, an endless back and forth between your mutation and your brothers. Light encased in dark. 

It had been two years since you’d done this. Since you’d saved the lives of everyone you held dear by doing the one thing you’d always been warned against. You’d known the consequences. Of course you had. Charles hadn’t been subtle in reminding you that using your own shadow would result in this. But you’d done it to spare everyone. 

Crossing the empty, white room, Logan set his hand against the solid, thrumming surface, feeling the small pulses of energy within the prison of your own making. He hoped, somehow, you could still hear him. Still sense his presence, even though he knew it was unlikely. Jean had said he was just hurting himself by continuing to see you. But he dared to hope. For the first time in his godforsaken life, he allowed himself hope. 

“Hi sweetheart,” he murmured again, resting his brow beside his hand. He swore he could still feel you in there. Still smell that one shower gel you used to use. Smell the cherry-flavoured chapstick across your lips. “Sorry s’been a while. Charles has us run ragged with the government. Yeah, they’re still up in arms about the whole thing. Stuck-up pricks.” He growled, smoothing his thumb over the glassy surface of the sphere. “Tryna play it off like they had no goddamn clue any of this was happenin’.” He knew it was his mind playing tricks on him, his own hopes manifesting in his brain, but he indulged in the way he thought he felt you react, a ripple of irritation within the endless well of darkness. “Yeah, I know. We’re workin’ on it, kay? Promise.” 

He didn’t mind Charles working everyone overtime to figure everything out. He owed the Professor big time for working this deal. In exchange for everything the team knew collectively, he was allowed to come in and see you, or what was left of you, every now and then. No cameras, no observations, just you and him. Of course, it hadn’t been like that the first few times. Whatever you had done was completely new in terms of containment, and he used to grit his teeth at the way they poked and prodded what you’d become, searching for any kind of reaction. It was too reminiscent of what you’d already gone through, and he fucking wished you could have been held beneath the school. At least then he didn’t have to wait for fucking government permission to see you. 

It was torture, waiting for every request to be approved or denied, pacing in his room after Charles sent the first email, heading out on Scott’s bike just to blow off some goddamn steam and hoping the faint adrenaline rush would be enough to knock him out by the time he returned. 

It never was. 

With an exhausted sigh, Logan dragged the chair closer to you, the steel complaining beneath his weight as he took a seat. “Wish I had more to catch ya up on but uh, not much’s happened since the last time I was here. Kitty’s beggin’ me to bring her along, by the way. So’s Morgana.” Once again he let his hopes manifest, eyes tricking him into seeing the light within flicker slightly in what he interpreted as excitement. “Yeah? Well alright then, I’ll let 'em know.” He smiled slightly, before his expression faltered, a wave of heartbreaking longing spearing his heart. 

“They miss you, ya know. Kitty and Morgana. Fuck, we all miss you, but they both took it hard. Morgo’s kinda filled in your role, and Jade’s role before you, bein’ like a big sister to her. Oh, and you’ll be pleased to hear Marie and Bobby are finally datin’.” His mind saw the shadows ripple once again, the steady pulsing of light becoming irregular for a moment. “You’re tellin’ me. She kept cryin’ on my shoulder because he wouldn’t notice her or some shit like that. Guess he finally did.” He shrugged, resting his hand back on the surface of your prison, feeling the warmth of your phantom laughter. It sparked his own series of slight chuckles, his thumb smoothing over the surface of the darkness.  

“Erin dropped by the other day with Atlas. They’re uh, engaged now, if you can believe that.” He still couldn’t stand to be around her. After everything she did, the role she played in your death, whenever she would stop by, which was extremely few and far between, he’d always find somewhere else to be. In the weeks following your death, she’d stayed beneath the school in recovery. There was only so much Atlas could do against a slash to the throat, but Morgarna refused to speak to her for a full month afterwards. Even now the redhead was curt with her, only exchanging the briefest of pleasantries whenever they ‘were in the area’. Logan could see right through her ruse though. She was trying to drown her guilt in the empty forgiveness from her friend. Atlas may have been able to understand why she did what she did, but it had almost resulted in your death. 

That was something he could never forgive. 

“I won’t be goin’. To the wedding. Sorry if you wanted to hear how it goes but I think Morgo might make an appearance then dip pretty quick so I’ll get the details from her if ya want.” Something deep within the prison rippled slightly, and he couldn’t make up his mind whether or not it was anger or excitement. Though he guessed, with the last interaction between the two of you, it was most likely the former. Not that it was real. He had to remind himself of that. None of it was real. 

A heavy sense of loss weighed in his heart. Thinking about Erin and Atlas’ wedding made him feel physically sick, but not because of his deep hatred for the girl. But because he couldn’t stop thinking that it should have been you and him. One day, far off into the future, it should have been the two of you getting married. Starting a life together. Maybe one day, even a family. You’d never expressed explicit interest in having kids, but it was something he’d entertained before in the afterglows of your nights together. Something he was always too fucking afraid to bring up.

Now he’d never get the chance. 

“Sorry sweetheart,” he gave the surface of the sphere a soft pat as if you could sense his sudden shift in demeanour. “Just… gettin’ to that time again I guess,” he explained quietly. He never really knew what to do on the days of your anniversary. Should he celebrate? Should he mourn? Should he try and spend it with you in this fucking alabaster room or should he drown his sorrows in liquor and try to forget? The last two years he’d spent it doing the latter, whether he’d intended to or not. It burned to think of the life he could have lived with you, the things you could have done together. But it burned more to ignore it completely. 

Pain was a funny thing. No matter what he did, there really was nothing he could do to escape its claws. A rogue tear lined one of his eyes, and despite promising you he wouldn’t cry during these visits, there were times that even he couldn’t stop himself. “Fuck I miss you, Firefly. So fucking much…” There was so much he still had to say. So much he still had to do. And there had been for the last two years. He was stuck in this purgatory state, not really living but being unable to die. Just… existing. Surviving. And he knew you’d kick his ass for it. He vowed to live a life you’d be proud of, but that proved a lot harder than he thought it was going to be when the woman he wanted as his life partner couldn’t be by his side. 

The surface of the orb shimmered, the glow within stuttering slightly to his grieving mind’s eye. You were telling him off. That much he knew. “Yeah, ‘gotta get my shit together at some point’, right?” He chuckled to himself as he remembered the ways you would attempt to imitate his voice, the way your chin would tuck against your neck to reach the lower parts of your voice and yet still get nowhere near close to his registry. The way he would tell you to stop when, in reality, he wouldn’t give a rat’s ass if you did it forever, as long as you were by his side. 

But you weren’t. He couldn’t protect you. And he knew you’d beat his ass to the ground for the guilt he felt, but he couldn’t help it. He was supposed to protect you. Supposed to keep you safe. And you’d died doing the very same thing for him. The irony wasn’t lost on him, and if it didn’t feel like razor blades to the chest, he’d appreciate the way fate worked. 

If only. 

His phone bleeped from his jacket pocket and he grit his teeth together, closing his eyes against the spike of irritation that flared through his system. He knew who it was and what they wanted, but that didn’t mean he was going to answer straight away. That was until there were three more consecutive notifications, and with a rough sigh, he thrust his hand into the pocket and snatched out his phone. 

“Alright darlin’. Duty calls, somethin’ about a string of real strange murders in the area Chuck wants us to investigate. Thinks it’s some mutant goin’ on a spree,” he paused, feeling the energy within your prison shift uncomfortably. “When’ve you ever known me to be reckless?” The ghost of your mutation spiked beneath his palm and he blew out a laugh. “Okay, yep, I’ll be safe.”

Logan had a moment of self-awareness and the sinking realisation that he must be going insane. Who else would talk to the embodiment of their dead ex’s mutation as if it could hold a conversation? As if it were replying to him. He was going mad. 

With a heavy sigh, he stood from the chair, dragging it back to the corner of the room before swinging his jacket across his shoulders, settling the leather around his arms. After having such an intense moment of realisation, he forwent the usual kiss goodbye. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Promise,” he mumbled, suddenly wanting to be anywhere but here. Anywhere else he could be drinking himself into an early grave. Or he supposed, earlier grave. Maybe then he could see you again. 

Logan turned to leave, pausing as if to look back to you but decided against it. That was until he caught the reflection of the sphere in the glass of the door. Whilst yes, he was happy to admit he was crazy, he also knew when he was gaslighting himself, and when he was feeding his own delusions, which stopped the moment he stood from the chair. 

Then if that was true…

Why the fuck was the glow within the prison convulsing like that?

He turned back to the sphere, his head tilting to the side as he took a slow step forward. This wasn’t his imagination. Or if it was, he was a lot more tired than he thought he was. But no, it wasn’t his grief playing tricks on him. The light was fading and growing rapidly, like panicked breaths. And it wasn’t his imagination that felt the sharp, almost burst of kinetic energy when he placed his hand against the surface. There was always a hum of power that accompanied the sphere, but not like this.

Logan’s eyes widened slightly, fear icing his blood. What the hell was going on? If this was where he’d watch you fade away after two years of being like this, he didn’t think he could handle it. A bullet to the head wasn’t enough to kill him, something he’d already tried, but living after seeing what he dreaded to see simply wasn’t an option. 

A low, almost imperceptible hum accompanied the frantic pulsing, rising and falling with each anxious glow until even somebody without enhanced hearing would have been able to pick up on it. Taking a step back, Logan couldn’t help but feel yet another overwhelming sense of guilt. He didn’t think he’d done anything wrong. Did he touch the surface too much? Disturb whatever fragile balance you’d found with your brother? He swore lowly, looking around for anything or anyone that might know what the fuck was going on.

Crossing to the small control panel on the wall by the door, Logan jammed his thumb against the speaker, pressing the alarm multiple times before anybody came to the receiver. 

“What?”

“R’you not seein’ this? The fuck is goin’ on?” He snarled, panic rising in his voice as the usually solid surface of the prison started to writhe and hiss like a ball of angry snakes. 

“Hold please.”

“Don’t you fuckin’–” Logan couldn’t believe he’d just been told to hold whilst your mutation had started going fucking crazy. “Motherfucker!” He shouted loud enough to grab the attention of any officials who may be in the control room. Though he couldn’t tear his attention away from the now rapidly deteriorating shadows in the centre of the room. “No… no no nonoNO!” he roared desperately, his voice catching on the ghost of a sob. “I can’t… I can’t do this again, Firefly– please… please don’t make me do this again…” Logan fell to his knees, his head bowing hauntingly similar to the way it did the first time he lost you. “Don’t do this…”

“You didn’t kiss me goodbye.” 

Logan felt as if he’d just been struck by lightning, every hair on his body standing on end as goosebumps prickled his skin. He thought he would have to die before he heard that voice again. Slowly, ever so slowly, he raised his head. 

And his mind went blissfully blank, his heart freezing in his chest. He had to be dead. There was no other way this could be happening otherwise. No other way he’d be looking at you standing across from him, as beautiful as the day he lost you. 

“Hey, handsome.” Your smile was so fucking soft, he didn’t even attempt to cease the tears lining his eyes, flowing down the sides of his face. He staggered to his feet, unable to take his eyes off you. You were exactly the same other than one noticeable change. 

One of your eyes had shifted golden, your iris now the exact same hue as the ones your brother had. 

He whispered your name so delicately, as if any louder and you’d shatter in front of him, and he’d wake up from this dream. But you just smiled wider, nodding gently. He’d intended to approach you slowly, to work his way over to you, wade through the quagmire of confusion, elation, and heartbreak before he got to you. Until your knees buckled beneath you and you collapsed. He surged forward, his chest expanding as his hands graced your sides, pulling you into him as he cushioned your fall.

You were real. This was real.

You were corporeal, here, in his arms, with him. 

His mouth fell open with silent sobs, crushing you into him with careful force, in case you would shatter. Your scent wrapped around his heart like a blanket of comfort, inspiring the same feeling he would get as if he’d just come home to you after a long day. But it was the other way around. 

You’d come home to him.

“Sorry…” you murmured a little weakly against the scruff of his beard, your nose tucked into the side of his neck. “Been a while since I used legs…”

“Wh… how? I don’t– I thought– why?” He had so many fucking questions dancing in his head, a carousel of confusion twirling about his mind as he pulled you back so he could look at you. Truly look at you. 

“I said. You didn’t kiss me goodbye. Pissed me off.” You explained as flatly as you could whilst being utterly exhausted. Logan blinked rapidly, your explanation meaning absolutely nothing in the face of reality. 

“I don’t… understand. You came back after two years because I didn’t kiss you?”

You chuckled tiredly into his chest, barely strong enough to hold your own head up. So he did it for you, his hand cradling the back of your head, supporting you in any way he could. 

“I’m kidding. Jus' took me a while to thread myself back together, honestly. Look, new arms!” You lifted your arms as high as you could, which really wasn’t much considering your severe lack of strength. But Logan gently took your wrists in his hand, his thumb smoothing over the clear skin. No scars. No marks. Just you. And whilst those scars were a testament to everything you’d been through, everything you’d survived, the new meaning wasn’t lost on him.

This was a fresh start.

“And Rowan…?” He asked slowly, his eyes raking from your smooth wrists back up to your face, taking note of each vanished blemish he’d come to know so well. Your lips pulled into a slightly sad smile.

“He’s still here… just, not around, if that makes sense?” 

Brushing back a stray hair from your brow, Logan really took in your new appearance, unable to stop himself from smoothing your cheekbone beneath your one golden eye. “Yeah… it makes sense,” he kept his voice as steady as he could in the face of more emotion than he’d felt since losing you. He felt like he was trying to hold back a tsunami with a spatula, wanting nothing more than to crush you into his chest and cry until his voice was hoarse. “So… you could hear everything?”

“Every word.”

“And I wasn’t…” going crazy, he finished in his head, unable to voice his thoughts. But you knew. Your soft smile of understanding told him you knew. 

“No, you weren’t. It was all I could do, send little wisps and waves to let you know I was still there. Still listening.” You fell into a contemplative silence for a moment, your eyes closing as you rested tiredly against his chest. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Not giving up on me…”

The dam holding his emotions back cracked, breaking apart completely when he watched tears filter along your lash line. Knowing you didn’t have the strength to hold yourself up, he braced a broad palm against your back and the other against the side of your neck, pulling you up towards him and finally, finally sealing his lips to yours. 

He kissed you with fragile passion, terrified that, with nothing more than a light breeze, you’d be taken from him again. But the way your hands managed to slide up his chest to the scruff at his jaw, the way you leaned into him as much as you could, the way your lips parted for him to find his way home to you. It told him all he needed to know. 

No more experiments.

No more Kreva. 

No more fear of who or what you were. 

This was a new beginning. A fresh start. The start of the rest of your intertwined lives. The other half of his soul had come back to him, knitting together the shattered remains of two years spent grieving. 

Everything he wanted to say to you. Everything that was still left unsaid. He had a second chance. You’d gifted him a second chance. And he wasn’t about to let it slip through his fingers. Not again. 

Never again. 

“Never gonna give up on you, Firefly” he whispered against your lips, carding his hand through the roots of your hair. 

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

[jinnie-ret]

could we maybe get a part two to fallen Angel? Maybe it could have her healing process, like her physical therapy process, and the fan reaction? I just love reading your work :3

fallen angel pt 2

Stray Kids x Ninth Member!reader (Platonic)

content warnings: mentions of injuries (ankle, rib)

genre: fluff, angst

word count: 2.2k

after suffering a nasty fall in a Kingdom performance, Y/N is eager to get back on her feet, only to feel downhearted when she receives some less than motivating news. it's a good thing she has the boys there to support her.

Thank you so much @mynameisnotlaura for this request!! I hope you enjoy! :)

As always, if you enjoy please like and reblog! And my asks are open so be sure to leave in some requests if there's anything you'd like to see!

MAIN MASTERLIST

Stray Kids' Fans in Uproar as Second Member is Removed from Kingdom: Legendary War

With just a few more weeks until the finale of the competition between six boy groups, a second member of the group Stray Kids has been removed from the show.

MNET have released an official statement saying:

"Due to faulty equipment that had not been properly authenticated by outside distributors, Y/N of Stray Kids sustained an injury that has prevented her from continuing in the competition. This is a very unfortunate situation and we wish her a speedy recovery."

However some fans have speculated that it was actually MNET's fault and that they should have checked the equipment themselves.

What do you think? Let us know down below:

Comments:

First Hyunjin, and now Y/N, this is so sad to see our group of 9 go down to 7...

It's clearly MNET's fault! You could tell Chan was angry about something before making sure Jeongin was ok

I wouldn't be surprised if Bang Chan went off at the staff, we all saw how annoyed he was in that one vlive...

Our poor maknaes, I hope they're both doing ok! Jeongin, Y/N, fighting!

I hope the rest of the boys are doing ok, now that they're down two members...

The way you can see the moment things go wrong in the performance and Y/N still manages to keep a calm face!

Okay but you wouldn't have been able to tell that Y/N got injured until they showed it after the performance.

Y/N put her phone down sighing. She was glad there was no nasty comments from what she read but she still didn't feel all too optimistic. MNET had blamed someone else for her injuries, and had also denied her requests of participating in the competition once more. Sure, she wasn't fully healed yet, but they could have let her be a part of it somehow without her dancing too strenuously. And no, she wasn't going to accept their request to just sit backstage and watch. In any other world she wouldn't mind doing so, but she knew that MNET would manipulate their footage and craft a vision that reflected badly on her own part.

It had been a couple of weeks since they filmed that performance, and a week since the episode was released, and Y/N was still on bed rest. Anytime a member saw her hobbling about they'd immediately do the thing she wanted for her, or escort her back to her room. Cutting a long story short, she felt like she was in a hell of some kind. Y/N longed for her independence, which added on top of the reasons why she was feeling so angry and upset and just... jumbled at the moment. It wasn't even like she could hang out with Hyunjin, because when the members left for practice, not before checking up on her of course, she would be left alone in the dorms. Hyunjin was spending his hiatus at home at the moment, but she was excited to see him soon after filming for Kingdom was finished.

Shuffling out of bed, and letting out a harsh breath at the pain that hit her mid section, Y/N slowly stood, now having to hobble across her bedroom floor with crutches, careful not to further distress her sprained ankle. Some say she was lucky it was only a sprain, but really it was a pretty severe one that was she lucky it didn't do any permanent damage.

"You should be in bed," Lee Know sternly said, back turned to her as she entered the kitchen.

"How did you know it was me?" Y/N pouted, letting out a groan as she leant against the kitchen counter.

"Here let me, careful, careful," Han gently supported her weight momentarily, helping her into a seat and offering a smile at her.

"Thanks, Hannie," Y/N smiled at her squirrel like member, turning back to Lee Know.

"Not hard to distinguish the difference between crutches and hobbling, to normal footsteps. Plus you normally run in for my breakfasts but you can't do that at the moment," Lee Know tapped Y/N on the nose as he put a plate of pancakes in front of her.

"Hey... don't remind me," Y/N said, shoulders feeling tense as her irritation was evident on her face.

"Yeah, you'd normally be the first one in here," Seungmin chuckled.

"Stop," Y/N slammed her fork down against the table, feeling bad for suddenly lashing out but she also felt so annoyed at the fact she currently couldn't do less.

"Sorry, sorry, we won't mention it no more, unless you want to, okay?" Felix calmed her down, one hand on her shoulder as the other ran through her hair.

"No, it's okay, I'm sorry, it's just... It's really annoying, I've ranted enough about it, you guys already know what I think about it all," Y/N waved her hand dismissively after her apology.

"Doesn't mean we don't want to hear it," Changbin reminded her, as he always did, being the great listener he is.

"Yeah, plus you know you've got our support and the fans' too, right?" Jeongin quietly pitched in, still not fully awake himself.

"I know, I know," Y/N nodded, taking a bite of her pancakes, humming in delight.

"Good?" Lee Know rose an eyebrow from across the table at her, a satisfied smile appearing on his face when she nodded enthusiastically.

Bang Chan emerged from his room just a everyone was finishing breakfast.

"Come on, time to go!"

"You missed breakfast," Changbin tutted at him, Chan only able to respond with a sheepish smile.

"You have to go so soon?" Y/N asked quietly. She could already predict how her day was going to go. Lay down, watch Netflix, sleep, repeat.

"Sorry sweetheart, got a lot of recordings to do today and we need to practice for collab stages on the show," Chan felt bad for his dongsaeng, he could tell she was feeling lonely, but they all tried their best to keep her in the loop.

"I can't even sing on the tracks?" Y/N asked hopefully, but even she knew that the answer would be...

"No, I'm sorry, you know it could make your ribs feel worse if you do. And you know you've got a physio session today, right? Seojun hyung will come round to pick you up and take you there," Chan reminded her, as she let out a groan.

"Ugh, I forgot about that. At least it gets me out of the dorms for an hour or so," she tried to see the positive side.

"See, not too bad!" Jeongin tried to encourage her, but it fell on deaf ears, knowing no one else would want to be in her position right now.

"Can someone help me to the sofa before you guys head out?" Y/N asked awkwardly. She always was awkward when doing so, feeling a guilt of some sorts that crept up on her in these types of situations.

"If we must," Seungmin playfully rolled his eyes, but was gentle nonetheless as he and Felix supported her onto the sofa.

"You comfy?" Felix double checked, shoving a pillow underneath her lower back to help with the healing of her ribs.

Y/N nodded as she took in some deep breaths, the short walk from the kitchen to the lounge leaving her a bit breathless.

"Are you sure you'll be okay, Y/Nnie?" Han bit the top of his thumb worriedly.

"I'm fine, I've got Netflix to keep me company for now, I'll see you guys later," Y/N didn't even look at them as they left, turning the TV on and hoping to block out her jealousy and irritation.

There was a knock on the door before it was unlocked and Y/N couldn't believe that she had already watched 6 episodes of Modern Family.

"Hi Seojun oppa," Y/N greeted him as he helped her stand and grabbed her crutches.

"Hi, Y/Nnie, how are you feeling today? Ready for your physio?" Seojun said warmly.

"I'm never ready, you know that," she laughed as he helped her out of the dorms and took her to the physio session.

On the way there they listened to some music, and Y/N fought deep within herself to not put her all into singing along. She couldn't make things worse. She wanted to recover as soon as possible.

Throughout the session Y/N herself felt like she was making good progress. Seojun and her physiotherapist, Soyeon, praised her as she did her exercises.

"So, only 2 more weeks left, yeah? Then it's been 4 weeks like you said and I can start working again," Y/N said with a big smile on her face. She was in a good mood from how the session went, which was soon to disappear.

"Yes, I did say 4 weeks, but I also said 4-6 weeks. Unfortunately it seems like your body is taking longer to heal than we initially expected, which isn't anything to worry about but I believe your healing process will be more in the 6 weeks," Soyeon informed Y/N, feeling bad for the younger girl.

"Right, okay, yeah, that's fine... thank you as always, Soyeon," Y/N said with a tight lipped smile and turned to Seojun with a look that said 'I want to go home now'.

And he complied. The manager felt bad, hearing the sniffles Y/N tried to hide during the journey back to the dorms. But knowing the girl, he didn't want to make a big deal of it, and simply passed her a tissue, knowing she would be thankful.

He helped her back into the dorms and took her to bed, letting her rest and feeling slightly reluctant to leave, he eventually did, sending a text to the other Stray Kids members to let them know how she was doing.

'Y/N isn't feeling too cheery. Not a good result to the session today, she's back home now. Could do with some comfort I think.'

And with that, the boys rushed home as soon as they could, not wanting their fellow member to be feeling upset. They knew she was angry, but they hadn't really seen her sadness or tears since the day her injury happened.

"Y/N?" there was a tentative knock on the door.

But Y/N didn't answer, she was too busy being curled up warmly under her duvet, her own sobs sounding muffled to her as she listened to some sad music through her airpods.

"Y/Nnie, hey sweetheart," Chan said softly, brushing her hair out of her face and removing her airpods.

"Adele? Damn she is going through it," Seungmin muttered to himself as he put the listening device to his ear, wincing lightly when Changbin heard and smacked him on the back of the head.

"Go away," Y/N tried to pull the duvet over her head not wanting the boys to see her upset but failed.

"Hey, hey, none of that, what happened at the physio appointment today?" Chan asked worriedly, thumbs swiping away the tears that ran down her face.

"Was it something serious?" Jeongin asked frowning, hoping that it wouldn't be.

Felix sat around the other side of Y/N cuddling her behind gently, for comfort.

"I've got 4 more weeks of this. 4 more weeks of doing nothing," Y/N sniffled, Felix rubbing her stomach in circles with his hand that was draped lightly across her midriff.

"I thought it was 2 more weeks?" Lee Know wondered out loud.

"Me too, but now I'm stuck here like this for even longer. Something about not healing as they expected," Y/N hiccuped on her sobs.

"Calm down, you're working yourself up, it'll be ok, those weeks will fly by," Changbin soothed her as he patted her head.

"I just hate doing nothing. I feel like I'm making you guys do all the work and making you babysit me when I should be pulling my own weight," Y/N confessed after calming herself down a bit.

"It's not like that at all. Plus, we love babysitting our maknae," Han let her know, patting her leg from where he was perched on the bed.

"Speak for yourself," Seungmin joked, making Y/N laugh, and then stop from the pain in her ribs.

"Here, silly, take these," Lee Know handed her some paracetamol to take, shaking his head fondly at her.

"I'm not silly," Y/N sleepily muttered after taking the tablets, leaning back into Felix's arms.

"You are for thinking you're making us do all the work," Chan sighed, still smiling at the girl.

"Yeah, don't worry, there's plenty for you to do when you're up and about," Lee Know said with a devilish smirk.

"That's fine by me," Y/N yawned, eyes fluttering shut.

"She's the only person I know that can sleep so comfortably at the idea of having lots of work to do," Jeongin shook his head with wide eyes.

"Told you, works like a charm," Lee Know laughed quietly at his shocked face.

They all stayed until she fell asleep, leaving just her and Felix in the room in peace.

tagged: @oo-li

[thelovehypothesis]

Sunsets with you

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Requested- lost my old account so this is basically me reposting my old stuff

Summary: Everyone else’s opinions on your and Harry’s relationship get in your head, but you’re it for Harry and he won’t have it any other way.

a/n’s: pretty sloppy but smwt enjoyable, please sendin request!

You’re well aware that you’re living the dream of many, being Harry’s girlfriend is something many dream of and somehow here you are, 4 years into a relationship with the man of your dreams.

Even though you were “living the dream” this said dream can with backlash, 4 years of trying to have a private (as possible with some fail) relationship, and some how media always had article to share on your relationship, fans had comments and haters hate to spread.

Truthfully it never got any easier for you to have the public eye on you, even though Harry always tried to help with sweet nothing and telling you to just full on ignore it, it was hard one click lead to another and you ended up engulfed in people opinions about you and your relationship.

Having said that, tour had been taking a toll on your relationship, you being “left” behind in London with harry signing his heart out around the world just gave your mind to much time to click and overthink, and most articles and post you read were full on rumors questioning your fidelity and his, and well you two trusted each other and had been through so many scandals that you knew better that to even bat a thought a those articles. It was rather the article criticizing you: your job, looks, intentions, family; that’s were you’d overthink your value in the relationship.

And so you started to distance yourself from him, not picking up his phone calls ever time he would call, texting him back less often and giving him shorter replies.

So when he came back for a short break, his grown worry from your uninterested self on having a proper conversation with him immediately unleashed a fight, well more so of an argument.

“We’ve been through this! You have to stop reading the comment and articles. They know one shit about us!”

“H-how can I. Im sorry but all they say is true! You’re this big pop star traveling all around the world with this huge successful career, while I’m stuck here working a 9 to 5!”

Silence

Being truthful Harry and you hardly fought but we you did it some how always lead to moments like this. You looking at each other with pleading eyes, hoping the other would just listen.

“I-I-I don’t know what you want me to say y/n”

“I don’t need you to say anything. I need you to listen, and to finally realize that I’m not-not enough for you H.

You need someone that can travel with you, and that can take on the public eye and-and that’s not me-“

“stop”

You could see the tear drops forming in Harrys eyes, even though yours are already flooded.

“Harry-“

“No. No. Yo-You don’t get to say those things. Not now not ever”

He starts stepping closer, cupping your face with his hand making you look at him.

“y/n listen please… just listen.

You are the most amazing human being I’ve had the pleasure of meeting, I know you better than anyone so I get to tell you that-that the comparison you’re making isn’t fair. You’re working on achieving your dreams, and you not that far away, and we are still so young, and somehow everyday you prove yourself to everyone around you, there is no doubt in the world that you’re the most talented person out there. I on the other had just got a head start and-and without you I-I wouldn’t be here, you’re my muse, my everything”

Sobbing, full on sobbing. How could this god of a human possibly believe in you this much knowing first hand how tough the world is.

“Harry I-I just can do it anymore-

I feel so small sometimes and I don’t want to be a burden to you”

“God y/n”

Harry lets you go.

He goes upstairs, and that’s the last indicator you needed to know that Harry can grow so much more if you just let him go, so you follow him, to say goodbye and sorry one more time.

When you got to you shared bedroom, you saw him walking out of the closet, eyes immediately meeting.

“I still hadn’t planned it out so far but I guess the time found it’s self”

Harry steps closer to you and takes your hand in his. Now in your hand, is a small velvet box.

Tears on the edge of both your eyes, but for a different reason now.

‘Just stop your crying, it’ll be alright’

“You’re it for me. And no matter how many times I have to reassure you of it, it’s me who doesn’t deserve you. “

‘So please stop your crying baby it’s the sign of the times

runaway with me, to a world that only you and me’

“Harry- are you sure of what your doing” your voice trembling more that thought possible.

A scoff leaves his mouth.

“I’m sure. I want this. All of it. The big house on top of the hill, the four children running around screaming, the wedding, the dog, all of it.

So y/n y/l/n would you do me the honor of marrying me and living the rest of life together?”

He said now on one knee.

He sees right through you, he knows you could never stop living him even if you tried to, you two find home in each other.

So without an other thought, you rapidly nod your head and kneel down to be able to kiss Harry.

The kiss you shared was full of the unspoken sorry’s each of you feel needs to be said, the new promises that come with this new stage your relationship, just love, the immense love you two share.

“I love you.”

“I love you so much more.”

And there you were in your sweet tender moment, not a worry in mind, hearts beating in sync and lovesick eyes that gazed at each other.

After a few more moments Harry broke the silence.

“I love you so much that if you want me to scream it from the rooftops I will, if you need me to reassure you of your worth every day I will. I will do anything if it makes you happy.”

“I love you so much. Thank you for loving me as much”

“Forever.”

He’d already slipped the ring on your finger sealing this moment forever.

-The end

Lots of love, Em!

[giggly-squiggily]

Ooh, I just read your latest lee! Dazai ler! Kunikida fic and I loved it so, so much! If it's okay, can I please request a lee! Kunikida ler! Dazai + Atsushi fic? KuniLEEda needs to relax if you know what I mean XD. So Dazai is rough, kneading into Kunikida's ribs in a way that's making the latter lose it and he somehow convinces Atsushi to join him. Atsushi being the sweet boi he is, goes really soft and gentle on Kunikida, making Dazai go soft too. In the end, all that's left is a giggly pile consisting of a tiger, a poet, and a... Dazai. Feel free to decline and have a lovely day!

GAH I LOVE! Lee!Kuni gives me such life! :D This prompt is so perfect, anon! I've gotcha covered! This is a sequel to "Hide and Tickle"- cause why not :D

CW: Swearing

Cloud 9 (Taglist Peeps):

@myreygn @thatbigbisexual29 @dirtpie39 @duckymcdoorknob @cupcake-spice13 @rachi-roo @chibisstuff @imjusthere07 @sevenincubistolemyheart @riisada

“Help me tickle Kuni, will you?”

Atsushi stared- not sure if his daze was from how fast the brunette moved or by the offer itself. He knew this would happen- tickle fights never stopped at just one person here at the agency.

“Dazai, get off!” Kunikida’s yell snapped him out of his daze, bringing him back to the present. Said poet was flailing about beneath the giggling detective, grabbing at the hands reaching for his sides. “This is ridiculous! Get back to wohork!”

“Ooo, get back to work he says!” Dazai managed to wiggle a hand free, pinching at his waist and making Kunikida flinch. “Ooo, be productive! Look at me, I’m Kunikida- I’m so serious and grumpy all the time! I forgot how to relaaaaax.” He turned back to Atsushi with a devious smile, jerking his chin over. “Come on, Atsushi! Don’t be shy- get in here!”

“Erm..”

“Atsushi, don’t you da-Ahahahhahahre!” Any words of resistance Kunikida had left were lost in snickery noises, his arms shooting down to his sides in a vain attempt to block him out. “Geheheheht hihihim ohohoohff!”

“No, tickle him Atsushi! He won’t bite! Not you anyway..”

More snickers, a few more enticing invites and a wagged brow from Dazai finally convinced him. “Oh okay. Just this once.” The weretiger grinned as he dashed over, throwing himself into the fray and nearly knocking Dazai out. “Come here!”

“Gah! Nohohoho! Nohohot you toohoohoho! Shihihiihihihiahahahhaah!” Kunikida yelled out, his snickers expanding into proper laughter at the extra hands. His efforts to scrunch up were proven futile as Dazai recaptured his hands, lifting them up and giving Atsushi room to attack. “Dahahahhahamn yohoohohohohou, Dahahhahhahahzahahhahai!”

”Awwww! I love you too, Kuni! Isn’t he just the sweetest thing when tickled, Atsushi?” Dazai cooed sweetly, unfazed at the profanities the blonde was shouting at him. Keeping his grip firm, he gathered both wrists into one hand as he brought his other hand to get him in the armpit. “He has such a delicate laugh for someone so strict!”

“This is delicate?” Atsushi blurted out, voice nearly lost in the boom of Kunikida’s mirth.

“To me it is! Make sure you get him real good here! Oh, and here~” He dragged his hand down to Kunikada’s waist, tapping at the skin towards his back. “He’s really ticklish back here.”

“You must tickle him a lot to know all that.” The weretiger hummed in amusement as he brought his hands to Kunikida’s waist, turning his hands into claws that reached all the way around. “Now that I think about it- he knows pretty much all your own tickle spots too. Is this a common occurrence?”

“The hehehehell it ihihihihihihiis! Be quhuhuhuuiet, Ahahhahtsushi!” Kunikida squawked through his laughter, finally turning his daggers towards the weretiger. Dazai merely wagged his brows, the answer a secret on his lips.

“Get him good, Atsushi.”

Atsushi did as told, bringing his clawed nails gently against the sensitive skin, relishing in the way the poet arched and cackled. “Hey it’s working!”

“Of course it is! I know my stuff!”

”GEHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAH! SHUHUHUHUT THE HEHEHELL UHUUHP DAHAHAHZAIHAHAHI!! AHAHHAHATSUHUHUHUHUSHIHIHIHIHI!” Kunikida flopped about like he was having an exorcism, cheeks heating up and smiling wide enough to split his face in half. He tugged at Dazai’s grip so intensely he nearly dragged him down against him. “YOHOHOHOU TWOHOHOHOOHO SUHUHUHUUHUCK!”

“Hehe, sure we do.” Atsushi grinned. “That’s why you’re not fighting back nearly as much as you could, right Dazai?”

“You’re finally getting it.” Dazai sniffed like a proud mom, making the other boy laugh.

“AHEHAHAHAH! AHHEHAHHAHA SHIIHIHIHIIHT! GEHHAHA! OHOHOOKAY, OHOHOKAY STAHAHAHAP!” Kunikida sounded near shrill, face burning and laugh near mute.

Alas, all good things must come to an end. Kunikida’s giggle fits started to have a wheeze to them, signaling that he was at his limit. Dazai released his hands, gently tugging Atsushi back by his suspenders as the blonde gasped for air. “Let him breathe, Atsushi.”

Pulling his hands back, the weretiger was practically thrown off as Kunikida thrashed, rolling to safety with his arms around his torso- glaring daggers. He looked like a spooked cat, wild eyed and teeth grit. “Yohohou twohoho…”

He knew he should be scared. He knew he should probably run for his life- look for a good hiding spot until Kunikida’s rage subsided.

Instead, he giggled- the sight of the blonde too funny for him.

The poet blinked, as did Dazai. Atsushi’s giggles got worse, and before long he was laughing properly- falling back oh his butt and kicking his feet as he held his belly. Any previous rage faded from Kunikida’s expression as he started to smile. “You’re such a brat.”

“Gahahhaa! Ahehahahahahaha! I’m shahahrry! I’m shahaharry-” The weretiger wheezed out, eyes misting with laughter. “Yoohohu look so fuhuhuhunny!”

Dazai busted out laughing soon after, finally breaking down Kunikida’s own defense. They sat there laughing, the entire scenario stupid and silly and just what they all needed.

Maybe the work could wait. For just a little longer.

Thanks for reading!

[angstywaifu]

The Lost Sister - Part 9

Synopsis: Xaden is known as an only child due to his sister who 'died' during the Rebellion. Little do they know she didn't die and has been so close this entire time.

Garrick Tavis x OC

A/N: From here on out you will see a few things pulled from the books. Especially moments where we have Garrick. Cause lets be honest we have some amazing moments from him where I can slot Ophelia into the scene. So there will be a mix of my stuff, and some dialogue from actual Fourth Wing with some tweaks to make it fit. We have some really good moments coming up, that I am so excited to show you guys to! As per usual requests are open for any one shot or scenarios you may want. And if you want to be on the tag list just let me know! The Lost Sister Masterlist | Masterlist

All of our current squad make it up the gauntlet. And now we wait our turn for presentation. And of course Garrick is over seeing the squads before they walk in. He’d been at the top of the gauntlet when I’d climbed up, but he had been dealing with an issue of how Violet had gotten up the end of the gauntlet. I was actually impressed with her idea to use the rope and dagger. I knew Xaden had given her some guidance, but I knew he hadn't told her to do that. But it worked.

This was the closest I’d been to Garrick in a while as we all stood in a single line waiting to go in. Despite me somehow tying for first in Gauntlet time, we aren’t the first group to go in. Slowed down by Violets time. But at least we all made it.

Ahead of us is a clearing lined by dragons, lined up in their own formation. All close enough to pass judgement on us, as well as dispose of us quickly as we walk by.

”Let’s go Second Squad, you’re up next.” Garrick says sternly, beckoning us forward with a wave that makes the rebellion relic on his bared forearm gleam in the sunlight. “Into formation.”

Garrick’s tone is all business, he’s in full leadership mode. It’s one of the first times I had seen it and it reminds me a lot of Xaden’s style of leadership. But Garrick is more mission first, niceties last. And currently his mission is to prepare us for presentation. It is also one of the first times I’ve seen him in full uniform, usually opting to forego his jacket around the grounds. Which I don’t blame him with how warm its been. But winter is starting to set in, and its definitely a fair bit colder up here. I notice the line of patches on his uniform, show casing his as the Flame Section leader, and an abundance of patches advertising his skill with multiple weapons. I wasn’t sure how many patches there were, but I wouldn’t be surprised if there was only a small amount left he didn’t have. I notice daggers isn’t one of them.

We all get into formation as hot air rushes towards us again. Another cadet claimed. Garrick’s hazel eyes skim over our squad before landing on mine. “Hopefully Aetos has done his job.” His eyes flick to Violet at the mention of Dain. “So you know that it’s a straight walk down the meadow. I’d recommend staying at least seven feet apart -”

”In case one of us gets torched,” I hear Ridoc mutter a few places in front of me.

”Correct, Ridoc.” I can’t help but smirk at the slight sass in Garrick’s tone. “Cluster if you want, just know if a dragon finds disfavour with one of you, it’s likely to burn the whole lot to weed one out.” He warns us as he holds our gaze. “Also, remember you are not here to approach them, and if you do, you won’t be making it back to the dormitory tonight.”

”Can I ask a question?” A cadet whose name I can’t quite remember says from the front row.

Garrick nods, but I noticed the tick in his jaw. He’s annoyed. And honestly don’t blame him. I may not remember their name, but I know they annoy me. And have since day one.

”Third Squad, Tail Section of Fourth Wing already went through, and I talked to some of the cadets….”

”That’s not a question.” He states as he lifts his brows. I note another tick in his jaw as he places his hands on his hips. Definitely annoyed now.

”Right. It’s just that they said there’s a feathertail?”

“A f-feathertail?” Someone I think called Tynan sputters. “Who the hell would ever want to bond a feathertail?"

I feel most of our squad roll their eyes or shake their heads. I see Garrick restrain from doing the same.

”Professor Kaori never told us there would be a feathertail.” Sawyer says. “I know because I memorized every single dragon he showed us. All hundred of them.”

”Well, guess there’s a hundred and one now.” Garrick states sternly, clearly wanting to be rid of us and this job. “Relax, feathertails don’t bond. I can’t even remember the last time one has been seen outside the Vale. It’s probably just curious. You’re up. Stay on the path. You walk up, you wait for the entire squad, you walk back down. It really doesn’t get any easier than this from here on out, kids, so if you can’t follow these simple instructions, then you deserve whatever happens in there.”

Kids? We were barely three years younger than him. But with most of our squad not bearing rebellion marks, I could easily see why he would refer to us as kids. He turns and heads over to a path before the canyon wall where the dragons are perched. We follow, breaking away from the crowd of first years.

“They’re all yours.” Garrick says to the quadrants senior Wingleader. A woman I’ve only seen a few times in Battle Brief.

As Garrick turns to walk back, he locks eyes with me as his hand lightly brushes mine, setting my skin on fire where his touch lingers.

“Single file.” She says to us, drawing my eyes back to the front.

We all form a single line, I end up at the very back behind Rhiannon. With the final instructions of talk to each other, she steps aside revealing a dirt path that leads through the centre of the valley, and up ahead, sitting so perfectly still you would almost mistake them for statues are the dragons. We start to move, each of us leaving the suggested seven feet before following the cadet in front.

As I enter the valley the smell of sulphur is thick in the air, and I note multiple black patches on the path.

As instructed we talk amongst each other. But talk is a loose term. Its mostly bickering. Towards the end I nearly have a heart attack as two greens approach Violet. Then I remember the corset she told me about. The one made from the dragons of her sisters green dragon. They can probably smell it As we get towards the end, our squad is down to seven first years.

As we’re about to leave the area I feel something. An extra presence at the back of my mind. I turn around, trying to keep my eyes down as best I can as I look around. At the back amongst the trees I catch a glimpse of…. Was that white? No, dragons aren’t white. I know I saw white though. But I can’t have. Dragon’s aren’t white I tell myself again.

“Ophelia, you ok?” Violet calls from the exit.

I turn to see her looking at me, her eyes also scanning the area I was just looking at. Did she see it to?

“Yeah, just thought I saw something.” I say, trying to pass it off as casually I can.

She nods, seeming content with my answer. But the tall figure just inside the pathway stares at me as if they are not convinced. Garrick’s eyes are narrowed me in almost a glare. Luckily the next group walks up and I’m able to slip past him without him talking to me.

Part 10

@riorgail @going-through-shit @fw-gt @bbkissme99 @xceafh

[littledollll]

hi hi i would absolutely adore if you could write an agere fic with larissa and a reader who regresses to 9-11. go wild :3

Office day

A/n: I don’t think I’ve ever written for littles on the older side or like bigger than toddlers at all. It's definitely a little harder I think but I had fun with this, I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: none?

_______________________________

“Momma momma momma!” Bright and early Larissa was shaken awake by your somehow overly energetic self. It’s 4:53 am. How the hell were you near ready for a marathon right now?

She had no idea where you came from but you certainly were running from somewhere and ended up crashing into her half-awake self at full speed.

She groaned as she felt your weight over her body before she even got to open her eyes. Eyes half closed, her hands cupped your face gently, giving you a little pinch before she leaned up to press a soft kiss to your forehead. Sighing as she reached over to turn the lamp on, she addressed you. “And what’s got my little darling so energetic today? I’m impressed you were even up before me.”

“I dunno! I just woke up! I slept very very well actually and wasn’t sleepy at all when I woke up.” You so happily explained, and Larissa only slightly envied the idea of actually feeling restful. “That’s very good, but momma isn’t feeling quite as energetic as you, dear. Can we use our inside voices when it’s early in the morning?”

She was always so gentle when she spoke to you. It was near impossible to actively go against her wishes or requests.

“I have a feeling a little one like you isn’t going to work today, hm?” Larissa muses as she finally feels a little more awake. Sitting against the headboard, she pulls you to lay your head on her lap and starts very carefully brushing through your hair. It almost made you fall right back to sleep.

“Hey! I am not a little one. I'ma big kid.” “Oh yes, very big, my love. But certainly not big enough to work.” She says again. More as a fact than a question. You nod in agreement.

There were a few minutes of peace and quiet. Something that was basically a sacred ritual for the two of you never to be disturbed. A second to breathe and just exist together in the quiet and calm of the morning, despite your energy and her lack of the very same. It was the perfect start to the day.

“How about you get out of your pjs and stay in my office when it’s time for work? I’ll pass it as a sick day and you can keep momma company.” She suggested quietly. Of course you sprung up at the idea of it, your energy resurfacing. Immediately jumping up to get changed so you could spend the day completely with her for once.

Larissa gives herself props later for telling you to get ready first thing in the morning because it takes you forty minutes to pick out an outfit that you’re just going to sit in, hidden away at the office.

“Little love, come get your breakfast.” You hear Larissa call from the kitchen and scramble to just chose something and walk out.

“You look very nice, that whole hour it took you was definitely worth it.” She mused, a soft smile on her lips as she tilted her head your way. You so rudely glared at her, making her fake a gasp and put her hand to her chest in feigned surprise. “Look at you with your little attitude. That doesn’t seem like something a big kid would do.”

That only earned her second glare, and she couldn’t help but chuckle as you joined her for breakfast, forgetting your previous attitude. “…thank you momma.” You said after a moment. Larissa only hummed, standing up and placing yet another kiss this one to the top of your head. “You’re very welcome. Wash your dishes before you leave, ‘big kid’. I have to go punch in.”

You pouted and grumbled but Larissa left no room for arguing as she swiftly left the room.

The rest of your day was spent with her just like promised. You roamed her whole office in the span of the whole day. You sat, walked, and laid down practically everywhere. Contrary to her who was stuck at her desk, occasionally taking a walk around the school to make sure everything was in order. Which you happily joined her for.

She reminded you to get off her desk just about a million times only for it to go ignored or forgotten about in just a second.

“Can we order out today?” You asked, praying to every and any higher power that Larissa would agree, and practically cheering when she did. Thinking about it for only a moment, she nodded soon after.

“I guess we could.. sure, darling. I don’t feel like cooking anyways.”

“Yes! You’re the best!” She looked quite happy at that, chuckling as you jumped off the desk to hug her. “Well thank you, dear.. now settle down for just a few minutes so momma can finish up and we can leave soon.”

[claiestve]

HEY I HOPE YOURE DOING GREAT !!! I have an idea so … this scenario is like a week before they became a couple (audio 9) and they had a day off since listener finished a case and they decided to take a day off. As listener got ready for sleep they got a little sad and basically went to sleep crying, Isaac still saw light coming from the room and since it was late he decided to check up on them. He walks in and as he was about to turn of the light he sees the tears and puffy cheeks from sleeping listener THEN ISAAC GETS SOFT AND WORRIED SLOWLY TOUCHING THEIR FACW AAAAAAA

𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐈 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮 ꨄ Isaac

˜”* ❝𝘽𝙪𝙩 𝙄 𝙘𝙖𝙣'𝙩 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙞𝙩 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙢 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙄 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪, 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣 𝙞𝙛 𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙚.❞

⎯⎯ ୨ ୧ ⎯⎯

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: ʜᴇ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴡᴀɴᴛꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴏᴋᴀʏ.

⎯୨⎯ " " ⎯୧⎯

It’s been so hard to get used to this type of life. Yeah, it’s been some time but damn, this shit is hard. You felt like you didn’t belong here no matter how much closer you and Isaac got, it just felt like you were out of place. And what about when you left? It didn’t feel like he wanted you to stay even if you wished he would. It was getting difficult for you to hide your feelings for him. 

There was nothing left to do anymore. You finished any piece of work that came your way and now, you were left by yourself in your own company. It was peaceful but it felt overly lonely. That’s what you’ve been feeling lately, lonely. It was hard for you not to get all in your head when you were alone like this, especially at this time. Isaac was busy and there was nothing to distract you. 

Why did this have to happen? You didn’t need a savior if things just went differently. It just felt like you were a burden on Isaac and you did not want to feel like that. Your eyes tear up at that. The thought that you were a burden on the only person you had, someone you really fucking like too. 

Now, you’re sitting here bawling. It seemed so silly, like something you’d do if you were still a kid. Just crying about nonsense. But, it was your head getting to you. You were just glad Isaac didn’t see you like this. It would’ve been mildly embarrassing and you didn’t want to deal with that at all. You weren’t even sure if he was up at this time. You decided to go to bed as it was late and crying wasn’t going to fix anything, no matter how much you needed to.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

“Y/N?” 

Your door cracks and eventually glides open revealing a sleepy Isaac. He came in to check on you since you left your lamp on. He already knew you were asleep but something inclined him to just get closer and check. 

“You awake?”

A hand glided across your face with gentle intent. It was a sweet, soft touch almost like a caress. His hand met and caught a tear from your closed eyes. “You’ve been crying… why…”

He focuses on your puffy red face. He wasn’t used to seeing this, not from you at least. All of a sudden, you feel the bed move a bit. When you lifted your head, there he was, draped on the bed next to you. 

“Isaac, why are you in here?”

“The light was on and um, I was worried.”

“Aw, thank you for worrying but there’s nothing to worry about.”

You roll over, looking away from him. You knew he saw your face but you didn’t want to draw any more attention to it. You’d rather hide under a thousand heavy covers than let him see your face like this. It was embarrassing and you’ve already embarrassed yourself enough in front of him. 

“Please look at me.” He says in a desperate tone. It was on the verge of an eager request with a slight whimper.

With that voice, damn, you wanted to. You wanted to do anything he asked if he asked in that tone. 

“Why?”

“I want to look at you when I talk to you.”

You sigh and turn around seeing his face. His expression is full of concern and sympathy. It wasn’t a pitiful expression, no, it was so much kinder than that. Somehow, it was comforting. 

“Y/N, why were you crying?”

“There’s just a lot going on in my head right now, don’t worry, Isaac.”

“Are– are you sure? I mean, I can sit here and listen to you talk about it if you want.”

That was sweet of him but you didn’t want him losing sleep. Not for something like this anyway.

“It’s okay. Go to sleep, Isaac.”

“Fine,” He stood up, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

i miss isaac so bad now i know how the andrew fans felt UGHSAHG

[applejuicefruit]

reader going to kylian’s psg match all alone and being attacked by some crazy fans? like psg won and fans went crazy

Yes please I need protective Kylian ⭐️⭐️

Thank you for requesting this! I really hope you like it ❤️

My hero, my saviour

You were a huge PSG fan so when you started dating Kylian Mbappè it felt like a dream. He knew about you being a fan and that’s exactly how you two met. You were attending one of his game a couple of years ago and your friends gave you the VIP pass for your birthday so when you met the team you also met him. The person who became the man of your life. You were happily dating for over two years now and you couldn’t happier. He always wanted you to be at every match and, as a fan, you couldn’t say no.

So today it was the same. The only difference you would have gone to the game with your friends who bought normal tickets instead the VIP section. You didn’t mind but Kylian had to say a lot about it. He wasn’t happy about you being in the standard section so he offered to pay you and your friends VIP tickets but your friends kindly declined the offer, mostly because they weren’t fan of him. They didn’t like him. It didn’t matter if he made you the happiest person on the planet they just couldn’t accept him. You thought it was because they were jealous but going on you learnt that in fact, they were jealous and they were kinda using you for fame. You could have said something but decided to not because they were your only two friends.

So tonight you would be watching his show with the other fans and you prayed they wouldn’t recognise you because you didn’t want to start a drama.

He had a match around 9 pm so you left early to get into the stadium.

You were happy to be back at the stadium, especially for seeing Kylian play.

“I can’t wait to see them play!” you said to your friends that were too busy taking selfie and tagging you, hoping you would repost them so people would watch their IG profiles.

You pretended to see nothing so you went on chanting the songs.

The match started and of course Kylian scored. You were so happy you couldn’t contain yourself. It was an amazing night, you thought. But your friends left you to get “drinks” fifteen minutes before the game ended, leaving you alone but you didn’t mind, you were enjoying the game because PSG was winning.

2-0.

But the magic happened again when Kylian scored his second goal of the night a minute before the game ended.

Then PSG won.

3-0.

But what turned into an incredible and amazing night turned to a living nightmare.

You were happy, of course, but fans around you were more than happy. They kept screaming and chanting and with your friends that didn’t come back you were left there all alone. Panic started rising a bit.

Where the heck were your friends?

You looked for them but you couldn’t find them. You had two options. Staying there, in your seat hoping people wouldn’t do anything stupid or you could leave, go in the parking lot and call for a taxi or a uber since you came here with your friends but they were nowhere to be found.

You opted for the second option.

You wanted to leave.

But the moment you stood up someone came behind you and pushed you down. They probably didn’t mean it but because of the crowd no one saw you falling down.

Now you were really panicking.

You hoped that Kylian saw you but probably he didn’t even know where you were sat.

“Fuck…” you whispered to yourself trying to stand up but someone pushed your legs and now you were hurt.

You were panicking.

Some fans were leaving the stadium making it impossible for you to stand up since they kept moving around trying to get out.

Somehow you managed to stand up and tried to leave the stadium but you couldn’t pass. Your legs hurt and when you touched your head you find out it was bleeding. You were hurt really bad.

You didn’t know how but Kylian saw you. He saw you bleeding. And he went into protective mode.

He started running towards you, jumping the barricade that divided your section and the field. Security behind him but they couldn’t catch him in time.

“Y/n!” he shouted and a huge crowd tried to go towards him

“I’m here…” you said in a low voice, you were hurt, your head kept bleeding and people around you didn’t do anything

“Babe!” he called you through the crowd “stay there I see you!” and in just one second he wrapped his arms around you. Fans kept taking pictures even when he told them if they could move away to let you some space to breathe. But of course, they wouldn’t listen.

“Where are your friends baby?”

“They left probably 20 minutes ago…I looked for them but I couldn’t find them” you sobbed a little

“You’re safe babe” he tried to calm you down but you were fully crying in his arms right now. Partially because you were hurt, partially because you got really scared. You thought you would die in the crowd today.

“You’re bleeding baby…let me get you out here” Kylian said while he walked you in the field, away from the crowd who kept filming and taking pictures.

Kylian was very pissed off.

He was mad because PSG fans were the worst and he knew it, but he still hoped they would have a little bit of pity if they saw someone hurt. He was mad at you because he told you to go in the VIP section, with security. He was mad at your friends because they left you alone. He was mad at himself because he wanted to protect you but he had no idea of what was going on.

He led you into the field and helped you sitting on a bench. Medical staff came right after behind him when they saw you bleeding. His teammates were concerned for you. They had no idea of what happened they just saw you bleeding and got worried.

After you’ve been cured you stayed on the bench for a little while. Kylian sat next to you holding your hand.

“I’m sorry this happened to you…PSG fans aren’t really the best…” he said to you while kissing your hand

“I know it’s just…my friends were there and a minute after they weren’t. I thought I was safe but then everyone started pushing each other so I tried to get out of the stadium but someone pushed me on the ground and I panicked…I should have listen to you” you said sobbing into his shirt while he scratched your head

“What matters now is that you’re okay…luckily you didn’t injured yourself too much…but I got so worried when I saw you bleeding baby…my heart stopped for a minute” he told you and you couldn’t help but feel a little bit guilty for making him worried so much

“I didn’t want to make you worry”

“I will always worry about you baby…you’re my priority” he said to you and you smiled a bit “you know what? I’m gonna get changed and then we can go home together” he said to you and you agreed.

You waited in a very safe area while he changed.

He drove you home and you went straight to bed wanting to forget about that night.

But Kylian stayed awake a little bit more and instead of going to sleep he decided to write something about what happened today.

He posted a selfie of you two, your face in his on his chest while you were sleeping and him kissing your bruises on your head. You probably would have killed him the next morning when you would see the picture but in that moment he didn’t care, he wanted his fans to know what happened.

“Very proud of our victory tonight! But very disappointed in what happened after we won. I get it, fans tend to go a little bit crazy when their favorite team wins but celebrating is one thing, hurting people is another thing and that definitely should not be allowed in a stadium where a lot of people go with kids too because someone could get very injured. Tonight, one of the victims was my girlfriend y/n. She got hurt while standing in the crowd and while she asked for help no one came and helped her. I’m very disappointed in you guys, if you were at the stadium and didn’t do anything to help. Luckily she didn’t get hurt bad but still it could have been worse if I didn’t see her while she asked for help. We’re a family and as a family we stand together. I really hope things like these won’t happen again, otherwise actions will be taken.”

He posted the picture and let his telephone charge. He wrapped you in his arms and kissed your bruises again even if you were already fast asleep.

“Good night mon amour” he said and turned off the lights while keeping you close to his body.