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roseghoul26 · 3 days

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Cooper Howard | The Ghoul x fem!Reader

Synopsis: After being captured by The Ghoul, he had dragged you through the hot desert of the Wasteland. You were so thirsty, and you’d do anything for a drink of water. And you meant anything. Tags: Smut, Practically No Plot, Humiliation, Begging, Spit, Blowjobs, Throat Fucking, Thigh Riding, Biting, Hate Sex(?), maybe OOC The Ghoul but I think I got it right, Not Beta Read, there's still consent because i can’t write severe noncon Author's Note: i had so many “why am i writing this” moments yet i still finished it i’m so sorry.

You don’t think you’ve ever been this thirsty in your life.

Scratch that, you don’t think anyone’s ever been as thirsty as you currently are.

Even though you had no saliva left to swallow, you tried anyway, your throat feeling like sandpaper. It caused you to cough, earning a disgruntled noise from the ghoul currently holding you hostage.

The Ghoul. Infamous bounty hunter and the cruelest person you’d ever met. Of course, you only found out who he was after he captured you. You’d never even heard of a ghoul until a few days ago, your sheltered life in Vault 14 withholding information about the surface to you.

You wished you were back home, suffocating as it was. At home, you wouldn’t be forced to walk countless miles under the boiling Wasteland sun. At home, you wouldn’t have a lasso around your neck, preventing you from running off. And even if you did manage to somehow escape the rope confines, you’d seen how accurate of a shot he was. He’d kill you before you managed to keep a foot away from him.

You glanced back at him, The Ghoul, who had his sawed-off shotgun casually trained on you. He seemed unaffected by the heat, by the sun beating down on your faces. His hat made sure of that, and you supposed that you didn’t have to worry about sunburn if all your exposed skin was melted by radiation.

It had been hard, looking at him at first. After spending your entire life surrounded by “normal” humans, it was a shock seeing him for the first time. You’d seen burn scars before, sure, but never this severe, every inch of him covered in them. Of course, that wasn’t the most off-putting part. That had to be the complete lack of nose, an empty socket where the cartilaginous appendage should be.

It unsettled you deeply, but you found that you couldn’t stop looking at him, a sick part of your brain enjoying it. You didn’t dare delve into that part of your mind right now, though, your current circumstance is significantly more important.

He had stopped you in Filly, and after a brief discussion had decided that he was taking you with wherever he was going. You had no say in the decision, and even when you fought and kicked and screamed he still managed to get you bound. A few people tried to help, not because they cared about you, but because they had also wanted to get their hands on a “Vaultie”. Apparently, you were worth something to them up here, a commodity of sorts. It made your skin crawl. You’d gotten firsthand experience, then, of how good of a shot The Ghoul was.

How you longed to be back in the stuffy Vault, working as a teacher to those kids. As annoying as they were, at least they weren’t currently threatening your life, or making you walk to who the hell knows. You’d take that over this any day. Hell, you’d take latrine duty with overflowing toilets every single hour over this.

You fixed your attention back in front of you, the endless stretch of sandy dunes in front of you broken up by partially destroyed houses and skeletons of buildings. Your feet were in incredible amounts of pain, every step feeling like you had fifty pounds of bricks attached to your ankles. And that thirst, never ending, overwhelming thirst you felt nagged at you, consuming every thought of yours. You’d take anything to drink now, even that definitely radiated puddle you’d passed hours ago. Or was it minutes? You couldn’t tell.

You knew dehydration had long since started affecting you. You were no longer able to form sweat, and you were certain that your body was slowly cooking from the inside. You were almost certain it would be a better fate than whatever The Ghoul was leading you towards.

You hadn’t even realized he’d stopped until you felt a sharp tug at your throat, nearly toppling you on your ass. You heard him chuckle as you steadied yourself, and you shot him a glare. Even faced with death, you weren’t going to let yourself be treated like this. “We’re stopin’ here,” he gestured to a dilapidated building to his right.

You had been surprised when he spoke the first time, not expecting a southern drawl. You’d never heard an accent like his before, only ever hearing them on the Holotapes your Vault would play for movie night. You’d also believed them to be fake, or to have died out with the rest of humanity. You had to admit, the one good thing to come out of this whole experience was hearing his voice.

Momentarily confused as to why you were stopping, your eyes focused, and you realized that the sun was half set. You’d learned rather quickly that it was suicidal and stupid to travel across the Wasteland at night, after an almost perilous encountered with what you assumed to once be a bear. You’d barely escaped with your life, climbing a tree until the creature grew disinterested and found new prey.

You almost wished it had torn you apart then.

Apparently you were taking too long, and you felt another tug at the rope, pulling you closer to him. “Ain’t got all day, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. The name was anything but sweet, saying it with so much condescension that it made you flush angrily. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

Grumbling something under your breath, you stormed past him, another low chuckle leaving him. “Nothin’ good is gonna come from that mouth on ya,” he threatened, waving the gun at you in a go on motion.

The shifting sand nearly caused you to stumble as you ducked into the house through a window, and your eyes struggled to adjust to the low lighting. Holding your breath, you listened for anything else in the house besides the two of you, and when you were met with only your heartbeat, you continued further in.

Entering what used to be the living room, you saw a large couch, still in relatively decent condition, and luckily free of decomposed bodies. Any wood furniture, however, had already decayed, leaving only fragments where they once stood. You realized that if you were to sit on the couch, it would probably crumble under the weight.

The Ghoul entered behind you, and you made your way down the hallway, checking each room for anyone or anything that could do you harm. The first room was a bathroom, sand filling the bathtub like it was water. Out of desperation you almost tried to turn the handles on the sink, lift the seat of the toilet, do anything for a drop of water. But you refrained, not willing to stoop to that level yet. But you could feel that you were close.

The next room was a large master bedroom, completely destroyed from when the bombs fell. Sand covered everything, and the walls had practically caved in, leaving you exposed to the outside. There was no where you would stay there willingly tonight.

The third and final room was also completely devoid of life, but the empty crib in the middle of the room had you gasping, and you heard the click of a gun behind you as The Ghoul prepared for anything. You quickly shut the door. “Nothing, sorry,” you managed to croak out, and you heard him scoff.

However, you saw that he did manage to catch a glimpse of the room before you closed the door, and in those still human eyes you saw something flash through them. Sadness? Longing? Anger? You couldn’t tell, but you sure as hell weren’t about to ask him about it.

Living room it is, then. Heading back to the original room, you watch The Ghoul sit on the couch, right in the center of it. It held, surprisingly, but you could hear the wood groan in warning. Spreading his legs, you watched him tilt his head back, a content sigh leaving his mouth.

If you had the energy to blush, you would’ve as you watched him, finding yourself having to look away. Maybe dehydration was messing with your brain, the way you thought that was attractive. What the hell was wrong with you, you thought.

Thirst quickly chased those thoughts away, and you attempted to lick your dry lips, your tongue mostly sticking to them instead. You were about to go explore the bathroom until you remembered the rope around your neck.

Like he could read your thoughts, you watched him regard the lasso in his gloved hand. “You gonna run off on me if I take this off, sweetheart?”

You shook your head, excited to have the irritating rope no longer chafing your neck. “You’ll kill me before I could,” you responded, voice barely a whisper.

The Ghoul barked out a laugh. “Damn right I will.” He considered your response for a moment, and you fully believed that he was going to keep it there. That was until he stood, almost inhumanly fast, approaching you with long strides.

Holding your breath, you felt his tug the rope off your neck, those eerily human eyes never leaving yours as he did. You flinched when you felt one of his leather-clad fingers brush over the irritated skin. Your heart beat rapidly in your chest, mostly because of fear, but also for another reason that you refused to name.

With a satisfactory smirk, he looped the lasso back onto his belt. You quickly exhaled when he stepped away, eliciting a coughing fit, which was dry and only irritated your throat more. Fuck, you were so thirsty.

The Ghoul sat back on the couch in that same lounging position, and you debated sitting on the floor in front of him, but you feared that if you rested now then you’d never get back up. You watched him set a lantern on the ground, the weak oil based contraption the only source of light in the entire room. You didn’t ask why he didn’t start a fire; you also learned to not do that early on too.

So you remained standing, even though your feet screamed for relief. You ignored them, shifting to try and alleviate the pain slightly. Rubbing your neck, you could feel that he hadn't once taken his eyes off of you, and it was making you increasingly unnerved. “You gonna stand there all night?”

You crossed your arms. “Yes.” You tried to sound defiant, but it came out more like an airy noise.

“Suit yourself, then.” He rolled his eyes, making a show of getting comfortable on the couch. “It’ll be a long night for you, that’s for sure.”

Swaying, you leaned your back against one of the barely-standing walls, screwing your eyes shut. You occupied your thoughts with memories of home, trying desperately to ignore the pain. You were mostly successful, that was until you heard the sound of a canister being opened.

Curious, you opened your eyes back up, nearly falling to your knees when you saw him drinking from a circular canteen. You must’ve made some noise, because he was now smirking at you. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and you watched a droplet of precious water trail down his scarred chin, dripping onto his dusty clothes.

“See somethin’ you want, sweetheart?” He was unabashedly cocky with his tone.

You son of a bitch, you thought, glaring daggers into him.

“Now, now, no need to be like that,” he chuckled, taking another sip. “Just tell me what ya want.”

He wanted you to ask for it. He wanted you to be at his mercy. Groaning, you rest your head back against the wall. You don’t think you’ve ever hated anyone as much as you hated The Ghoul. Any humanity left in him had been stripped away, leaving behind a cruel excuse of a human. Despite that, you couldn’t deny the way your heart continued to patter in your chest as he stared at you expectantly, that cocky attitude doing things to you that would leave anyone who knew you horrified.

“I…” you tried to talk, but your voice proved to be too scratchy. Clearing your throat as best you could, you tried again, ignoring the way he looked at you like a predator would his prey. It was similar to the bear from earlier, but you’d take that now over the ghoul in front of you. “I need water.”

He tsked, crossing a leg over his lap. “And here I thought you Vaulties were raised with manners.”

It took everything in you to not just snap at him, but that would leave you without any water. “I need water, please,” you gritted out.

The Ghoul shook his head disapprovingly. “Shame,” you heard him mutter, before he was slowly pouring the water out onto the floor behind him.

Sheer panic tore through you, and if you were able to form tears, they would be in your eyes. “Wait, wait, wait,” you pleaded, your voice cracking and breaking, and you lunged forward. The click of a gun had your blood going cold, but he at least had the decency to stop pouring. You held your hands up, taking a few steps back.

Registering that you weren’t going to attack him, he lowered the gun, but he still kept it on his lap. If he had any eyebrows left, you’re sure one of them would be raised, waiting for you to continue.

“I’m- I’m sorry,” you stammered out, keeping your hands in the air. “I just… Can I please have some water? Please, I-I… I need it. I’m begging you… please.” You wondered if he could even make out your words.

You watched his eyes travel up and down your body, and he cocked his head. “Are you?” You made a confused noise, and he chuckled lowly. “Are you beggin’ me?”

One problem that you always had at the Vault is that you never knew when to shut your mouth, and what you said next certainly made it clear that you hadn’t learned yet. “You want me to get on my knees, then?” You had meant it sarcastically, and you immediately regretted it when his eyes went dark.

You heard the creak of the couch as he planted both feet on the ground, leaning forward until his elbows rested on his knees. His guns barely stayed in his lap, but he didn’t seem to care. “Now that you mention it… yeah.”

Humiliation warmed your cheeks, and you nearly let your pride stop you from sinking to the floor, but then you saw the way the canteen hung precariously in his hand. Damn it all. Taking a deep breath, you lowered yourself slowly, unable to look at the man, not wanting to see his victorious reaction. The sand shifted beneath your knees as you rested on them, but you could barely feel the relief your feet finally felt.

“Can-”

“Closer,” he cut you off gruffly. “And I want those eyes on me.” His voice had turned husky, and you realized he was enjoying this. Were… were you enjoying this too? You honestly couldn’t tell.

Wordlessly, you obeyed, shuffling forward until your knees bumped into his shoes. Your ears burned worse than they did out in the sun, and you wished it would just explode and incinerate you right now. “Eyes up, sweetheart,” he practically purred.

You took a moment to prepare yourself before you were looking at him through hooded eyes. The brim of his hat cast a shade over his face, and you could only see the hungry glint in his eyes matched with a predatory smirk. Oh, he was loving this, and you couldn’t help but squirm under his gaze, heat pooling in your belly that was quickly doused by shame.

“Can I please have some water? Please? I- I’m really thirsty and… just a bit. Please.”

His grin grew more as you begged, and you sagged with relief when he brought the canteen closer, no longer dangling over the back of the couch. “See, that ain’t so hard now, was it?”

“I’m sorry,” you found yourself apologizing, for what, you weren’t quite sure. You weren’t too upset about it, though, especially when he brought the canteen to your lips.

“Head back,” he ordered, and you did, your neck straining at the angle. You swore you heard him groan when you parted your lips, never breaking eye contact with him. The water was disgusting and acidic, but damn if it wasn’t the best thing you’d ever had the pleasure of drinking. He poured it into your mouth, and you desperately swallowed every single drop, the dryness in your mouth and throat instantly being quenched.

But it wasn’t enough, and you couldn’t help the disappointed noise you let out when he ceased the pouring. “More, please,” you found yourself whining, any remnants of shame tossed out the broken window you’d climbed into.

“Manners, Vaultie,” he growled.

“Thank you, thank you,” you repeated like a mantra, and The Ghoul let out a pleased hum. Thirstiness still clung to you like a second skin, but you felt better than you had moments ago. Some of your energy had returned, and you felt like you were no longer in the grasp of death.

“You want more?” He asked, and you immediately nodded.

“Please,” you whispered, and you saw something almost wicked pass over his features.

“Don’t worry,” you felt one of his gloved hands sneak around your back, collecting a handful of hair and tugging, forcing your head back even further. You cried out, a mix of shock and pain. “You’ll get more. Just keep that pretty mouth wide open, just like that.” His normal drawl had turned into an almost rasp, and you shuddered.

You watched as he took a swig for himself, but he didn’t swallow, keeping the water in his mouth. Confused, you closed your mouth, but as soon as you did you felt him pull hard at your hair. Obediently, you opened it back up, a shaky exhale leaving you.

If he had a nose, it would be currently pressed up against yours. He adjusted so that he was practically towering above you, and man did the angle kill your neck, but you didn’t dare complain. With increasingly widening eyes, you watched as he slotted his mouth above yours, not touching, but you could still feel the heat from his body.

You nearly flinched when you felt the water hit your mouth, fighting every instinct that told you to shut it. The act was filthy and degrading, but you’d be a liar if you said it wasn’t getting you incredibly aroused. Your Vault-Tec suit was becoming suffocating; it hadn’t even felt this bad when you were outside.

As he sat back on to the couch, his lips glistened in the dim light, stray remnants of water still coating them. As you held the water in your mouth, he frowned disapprovingly. “Do I gotta spell it out for ya?” He shifted forward again, grasping your face. “Swallow.”

When you did, he let go, tapping your cheek lightly. “Atta girl,” he cooed, and you sputtered, cheeks growing warm. Shifting where you sat, you tried and failed to relieve some of the tension in you. You thought you were subtle in your movements, but his sharpshooter gaze locked onto it immediately.

He laughed, a mix of surprise and condescension in one. “This gettin’ you turned on? Maybe you ain’t all that innocent, Vaultie.”

You eyed the half-hard tent in front of you. “I’m not the only one,” you grumbled out, and he laughed again.

“I ain’t the one on my knees, sweetheart.” Scoffing, you watched him lean back again. You expected him to say something, do something, but he simply watched you with anticipatorily. Something shifted in the atmosphere, and you realized he was putting the situation in your hands, wordlessly asking you how far you were willing to take this.

You needed this. You needed him, as bewildering as it was for you to admit to yourself.

Desire running deeper than that for water coursed through your veins, and you nodded. “More.” You both knew that you weren’t fully talking about the canteen in his hand.

“Good answer.” Before you could even register, he was gripping your face again. Fingers pressed into your cheeks harshly, opening your mouth back up. Taking another swig, you expected him to repeat what he’d done last time, but you were startled when you felt his lips on yours.

It was a strange kiss, his closed mouth against your open one, but it didn’t stay like that for long. His lips pulled apart, and without needing further prompting you swallowed another precious mouthful of water. You could feel that bastardly smirk against your mouth, and if you were anywhere near being able to create a coherent thought you would’ve said something.

But you didn’t, you couldn’t. It was like you were caught up in some haze, but you were sent out of it when you felt his tongue sweep into your mouth. You’d kissed a few people, sure, but never like this. It elicited a startled noise from you that had him pulling back an inch, and you had to fight yourself to not chase after his lips.

“Never had that before?” He chuckled, and he found your following silence an adequate enough answer. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m gonna fuckin’ ruin you.”

He didn’t even give you a moment to react before he was crashing his mouth back against yours. It was all tongue and teeth and it had you moaning, and you felt the grip on your face tighten. Your head spun, and you tried to keep up with his movements, but you ended up just letting him take over, moving his mouth against your however he’d like.

He nipped at your lower lip with his teeth, and your hands shot out, no longer able to just keep them idly in your lap. You found purchase on his thighs, the sinewy muscles tensing under your touch. But the grip on your face tightened more, almost incredibly painful. Your eyes shot open, alarmed, and a pained noise left you.

He had pulled away again, a string of saliva still connecting your mouths, but he was glaring down at you. “You better watch those hands.” Even though his voice was husky, the threat didn’t make you any less terrified.

You were confused, and you watched his eyes trail down to his lap where your hands were. Unable to move your head, you had to strain your own eyes to look down, and sheer dread washed over you when you saw his gun still in his lap, your hands a mere inch away from it.

“I- I wasn’t… I didn’t… ” you gasped breathlessly. “I didn’t know! I- I’m sorry! Please.” Out of all the times you’d begged and pleaded tonight, this time had to be the most genuine. Immediately retracting your hands back to your lap, you awaited his response tensely. What you failed to notice was the way his eyes darkened as you groveled, his pants growing tighter.

His gaze returned to your face, and out of the corner of your eye you watched as he moved the gun from his lap into his hand. You half expected him to point it at you next, but you let out a very audible sigh of relief when he set it on the couch beside him. It was completely out of your reach now, but he could still easily grab it.

He loosened the grip on your jaw, still holding it, but no longer digging into your flesh painfully. “I won’t stop you next time,” he growled, and it took you a second to register what he was saying: he won’t stop you next time because you’d be dead as soon as you began to reach for it.

You nodded as best you could. “Good,” he’d lost the threatening tone, but his voice was still gravely and raspy. “Now, where was I?” His eyes flicked down to your lips, and you sure they were swollen and shiny. “That’s right.”

Like nothing had happened, he returned to his ministrations, teeth grazing your bottom lip again. You hesitated when you set your hands back on his thighs, gaining more confidence when he didn’t stop you. In fact, he was actively encouraging your explorative touches, a pleased noise rumbling his chest as your fingers trailed up his thighs.

Another swipe of his tongue and a particularly harsh bite had you gripping onto him, barely able to find purchase on the thick material of his pants. You desperately needed air, but he held his grip on your jaw, seemingly unaffected by the issue you were having. Did ghouls need to breathe? It seemed like they didn’t, because he had yet to tear his mouth away for air once as he first kissed you.

As your hands reached his belt, it was then he finally tore away, a groan leaving him. Sucking in as much air as your lungs could handle, you ran your touch across the prominent bulge. You felt the hand on your jaw go lax, falling to his lap. “You gonna take care of that?” He was giving you another out, giving you an opportunity to stop you from doing something you could regret.

Rationally, you knew you should stop here, and pretend like this didn’t just happen. You knew the version of you from the Vault would do that. But this new part of you, exposed to the Wasteland and the savagery of the surface world found that you wanted to continue. Besides, you were probably going to end up getting killed in the next few days; why not have some new experiences before your time was up.

You didn’t respond, you simply began to undo the buckle of his belt. You couldn’t get the thing off of him, so it just rested open on his thighs. “Oh, you’re filthy,” he chuckled, spreading his legs even further apart while leaning back against the couch. “Go on, sweetheart. Let’s see what that mouth’s good for.”

This also wasn’t your first time in a situation like this. You’d only ever done it once, but you apparently weren't too terrible at it, as he frequently requested for a second time, but you always turned him down. You kinda wish you hadn’t now, wishing you had more experience now, but a part of you knew that this was about to be incredibly different from anything you would’ve experienced in the Vault.

With hands that you prayed weren’t incredibly shaky, you pulled down the zipper of his pants. He kept his eyes locked onto you the entire time, darkening even more as the unzipping noise hit his ears. You couldn’t bring yourself to look away from him, no matter how hard you wanted to. Something about his expression had you locked in, and you shifted again.

“Don’t let me stop ya,” he rested his arms along the backside of the couch, and you realized you’d just been sitting there. Steadying yourself, you slipped your hand into the confines of his pants, underneath the waistband of his briefs. You heard him let out a small hiss when your fingers brushed over his cock, and you desperately wanted to hear him make more noises like that.

It took a bit of maneuvering before he was free, head brushing against his navel. The skin was pocked like the rest of his body, which you were expecting. What you weren’t expecting was how long he was, much longer than your previous encounter.

Before you could let nerves disarm you, you moved closer to him. Bracing your hands back on his thighs, you kissed his tip, and you heard his hiss again. Sneaking your tongue out, you ran it up his length, pressing another kiss when you reached the top. “Don’t tease,” he growled, tangling his gloved fingers back into your hair.

When you took him into your mouth, he let out a noise that sounded like a laugh and a sigh, the grip on your hair growing painful. It didn’t deter you, rather it drove you wild, and you took as much of him as you could. When he hit the back of your throat, you had to stifle the urge to gag. Taking the rest of him in one of your hands, you began to bob your head, hollowing your cheeks.

You couldn’t see the way his eyes locked onto his cock leaving and entering your mouth, but you could hear the small grunts he made in tandem with the movement of your head. He kept his hips surprisingly still, but his fingers were somehow getting even tighter, as if all of his restraint was being poured into his grip, and it was on the verge of snapping. “You can take more.” It wasn’t a question, and you felt his press down on the back of your head when you had him fully in you.

Startled, you tried to make a noise, but the vibrations just went straight to his cock. He groaned, louder this time, and he didn't let up. “Relax,” he bit out, and you tried. You really did. Taking as deep a breath you could, you forced your muscles to relax, your hands going back to his thighs. Tears sprung to your eyes as you really tried not to gag, but a garbled sound still left you as he pushed himself further down your throat.

“Fuck,” he drawled out, “just like that.” It felt like five years had passed before your nose was finally pressed into his skin, his cock fully sheathed down your throat. Tears dripped onto his skin, but he didn’t seem to feel them. Your scalp stung as he lifted your head up, and you took in a shuddering breath, your lungs screaming for air.

You didn’t have a long reprieve before he was shoving you back down again, and even though the intrusion wasn’t new it still caused you to make an awful noise. It took him pulling you off again for you to realize what he was doing; he was fucking your mouth, using it for his own pleasure like you were just a toy. The realization had you moaning, the discomforts becoming an afterthought as he chased his pleasure, your own growing.

Your Vault-Tec suit was becoming unbearable arousal tightening in your core, and you snuck a hand down between your legs, trying to touch yourself through the thick material. It didn’t help, but you still tried anyway, desperate for any sort of relief. The Ghoul laughed, not letting up the way he moved your head. “Oh, sugar, is suckin’ my cock gettin’ you bothered?”

Your head spun, the new nickname and the crude words making you dizzy, and you let out what you hoped was a confirmatory sound. He only huffed in response, and you could tell that he was starting to get close to his release. His hips had started to buck, albeit slightly, and his groans had turned to unintelligible moans.

He cursed again, and you were barely able to glimpse his head roll back, hat hitting the ground. He didn’t care, continuing to fuck your face, and you desperately ground against your hand. “So good, fuck,” he panted, and you let your eyes flutter shut.

They shot open when you heard him moan your name, but you had little time to appreciate the way he said it. He pressed down hard on the back of your head, holding you there, your nose pressed flat against his body. A plethora of curses fell from his lips as he came, his cum spurting deep down your throat.

He let go, hands falling to his sides, and you removed yourself, coughing and gasping for air. Your cheeks were wet with tears, your jaw aching, but it was the best pain you’d ever felt. He stared at you with lustful eyes, a ghost of a smirk on his lips.

Holy shit. You were tired, but you wanted more. But you weren’t expecting him to do anything else tonight. This wasn’t a partnership; he’d gotten his release. You’d need to deal with it on your own.

So caught up in what you were expecting, you gasped when you felt his lips graze the corner of your mouth. His hand cradled your cheek, leather growing damp, and you felt his lips brush the tears that had fallen on the other cheek. You realized he was licking your tears away, and when he registered that you noticed he chuckled, muttering something about not wanting to waste water. You let out an airy chuckle in return, still not fully wrapping your head about what had and what is transpiring.

“Guess one good thing came from that mouth,” he teased, referencing his earlier threat. He tugged you up, and you stood with knees shaking like a fawn. You’re certain you looked like a mess but he either didn’t care or really enjoyed it.

You really had no idea what was going to happen next. You observed him with wide eyes, and you couldn’t help the bewildered look when you saw him stroking himself, still rock hard like he hadn’t just come. He chuckled when he saw what had caused you to react. “One good thing ‘bout bein’ a ghoul,” he rasped. “Stamina.”

His own raked down your body, honing in on the way your thighs pressed together, and they flicked back up to your own. “Take it off.”

You didn’t have to be told twice, the zipper on your suit quickly becoming undone. Even though the air was hot, it still felt nice against your hot skin. He didn’t blink as you undressed, eyes clocking in every new inch of exposed skin. Tugging it down your shoulders and off your arms, you let it fall to the ground, the material pooling at your ankles.

Left in only your bra and underwear, you kicked the Vault-Tec suit off your feet, and you stood there, unsure. “All of it,” he continued, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

As you reached for the clasp of your bra, you watched him lean forward slightly, eyes watching you like you were the most delicious meal he was about to devour. Tossing the garment beside you, you reached for the waistband of your underwear. He raised a hand, making your halt, your fingers barely looped under the band.

With two fingers, he gestured you forward, grinning when you complied easily. His hands batted away your own, and you felt he begin to peel it away himself. He was almost eye level with your navel, and you felt his breath caress your stomach. It was like he was unwrapping a present, the way he ripped it down your legs, and it fell around your ankles like the suit.

You were hardly able to kick it away before he pulled you onto his lap, your hands bracing against his still clothed chest. The couch made a very audible noise, on the virgo of collapsing, but neither of you seemed to hear it. One of your legs straddled his thigh, your bare center pressed against his pants, no doubt soaking the material.

“You’re wearing too much,” you found yourself commenting, and you felt him chuckle. He took his hands off your waist, holding them in front of you so you could clearly see him take off his gloves, tossing them by his gun. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, realizing that that was all you were getting from him.

You weren’t complaining, though, when his bare hands touched you for the first time. Along with the marred skin, his fingers were calloused, years and years of harsh life, fighting, and shooting making them so, but they were the best things you’d ever felt touch your soft skin.

He seemed to be having similar thoughts, humming appreciated as he felt your body, fingers dancing up your sides. Goosebumps erupted across your skin, and you sighed as he continued his exploration upwards. Worn hands cupped your breasts, fingers toying with your perked nipples, and you unconsciously pressed your chest forward. “Look at ya,” it felt like he was mostly talking to himself, “you ain’t gotta mark on your body.” You felt his mouth graze your breasts, lips ticking you as he spoke.

You jumped when his teeth made contact with the delicate skin of the top of your breasts, and he chuckled. Moving lower, he took one of your nipples between his lips, his hand making sure the other one was receiving the same attention. His tongue flicked, sucked, and the occasional nip had you crying out, jolts of pleasure shooting through your body. One of your hands settled on the back of his head, the other sneaking back between your legs.

With that surprising speed, he caught your wrist, not even tearing his mouth away from you. You let out a noise of complaint, and you could feel him grin. His hands left your breasts, settling back on your waist, and you felt him begin to rock you back and forth on his thigh. With every rock, your clit ground against the tensed muscle, and you let out small moans, small waves of pleasure crashed through your body.

When he felt you begin to move on your own, he let go, returning his touch to your breasts, playing and massaging them as you got off on his thigh. His mouth trailed up your body, leaving a trail of small kisses and ginger bites, your once smooth skin now slightly indented. Having been worked up for a while, you felt that you were growing close to release, his ministrations bringing you closer.

He was at your neck now, and he bit particularly hard at the thick tendon there. He laughed when he felt your hips begin to rock harder, and you felt his tongue smooth over the bitten skin. “I-” you tried to speak, but an airy whine from your throat cut you off. Your thighs were trembling, and you could feel the damp patch that had formed on his pants, but you couldn’t be bothered to feel embarrassed right now.

“You close, sugar?” Not trusting your voice, you nodded instead. “Fuck, yeah you are. C’mon, let me feel ya,” he groaned, mouthing at your neck.

It only took a few more rolls of your hips before you came, his name tumbling from your lips as a loud cry, pleasure igniting all your nerves. Your stubbed nails dug into the back of his head, and he growled. Your whole body was trembling as you rode out your high, only ceasing the movement of your hips when it became too overstimulating.

A shocked laugh left you, and you slumped forward. That seemed to be the last straw for the couch, the furniture collapsing beneath the two of you. It nearly caused to tumble off his lap, but you felt his hands secure under your thighs. He stood, holding you like you weighed nothing, and your legs instinctively wrapped around his body.

He eased you to the ground, the sand digging uncomfortably into your skin, causing your back to arch off the ground to avoid feeling it. You couldn’t help the gasp you let out when you watched him shrug off his jacket, tucking behind you wordlessly. These small glimpses of humanity you’d seen from the Ghoul, like when he saw the crib, or when he gave you a way lead you to believe that maybe he wasn’t as bad as you originally believed him to be.

Well, you still hated him, and you were still his captive, but you realized that he wasn’t a complete monster. It was moments like this, where those high walls he’d built to survive in the Wasteland began to crumble, and you could see glimpses of the man you assumed he once was.

He didn’t give you much time to reflect, though, because his lips were crashing against yours, and all thoughts disappeared. Your legs were still wrapped around his waist, and you could feel his cock pressed against your folds. He didn’t press in though, and you whined against his lips, moving your hips as best you could to try and get him to move. “Whatdya want, sweetheart?” He murmured, nestling his head in the crook of your neck.

“You,” you gasped out.

“I’m right here,” he chuckled a bit, and he still didn’t move.

Groaning, you ground against him again, trying to get him to just push himself into you. He groaned, yet he still didn’t move, his resolve stronger than you anticipated. “Fuck me, please,” you choked out, and you could see him smirk in satisfaction.

He didn’t respond, and you felt him press into you, sheathing into you with a single thrust. Similar noises of pleasure escaped both your mouths, and your fingers wove into the fabric of his shirt, desperately trying to find something to grip onto. He stretched you out so well, and you gasped when you felt his hips press against you. He was so deep inside of you, father than any other person you’d taken to bed, and it overwhelmed you in all the best ways.

“Sugar, you feel incredible.” You babbled something in response, and you hated how proud he looked. He didn’t give you time to adjust before he was setting a brutal pace, hips snapping against yours. The sound of skin on skin and your cries of his name filled the room, and you swore if you gripped any tighter on his shirt that it would rip.

Small puffs of air tickled your neck with every thrust, whispers of your name hidden in the gasps. Fingers dug into your waist, most likely going to leave marks in the morning, your once smooth skin littered with marks of him. You couldn't see what your body looked like right now, but you had a pretty damn good idea, and the picture you visualized in your mind had you clenching around him, causing him to falter, albeit it only for a second.

Despite the slight overstimulation you were feeling, you could feel another orgasm begin to form, slowly but surely. Letting go of his shirt, you grasped at his face, pulling back up for another breath-stealing kiss. You were so caught up in the way he continued to thrust into you and the way his mouth slotted against yours that you failed to notice the way one of his hands left your waist.

You broke the kiss with a startled yet pleased nosed when you felt his fingers begin to work at your clit, rubbing fervent circles into the sensitive nerves in time with the thrusts of his hips. “Cum on my cock, sweetheart. C’mon,” he groaned out, and your head hit the ground, barely softened by the jacket and the sand.

His name had turned into soft pants, unable to form a coherent thought as he relentlessly fucked you. The added stimulation brought you closer to the edge, and you tried to let him know you were getting close. “Go ‘head, lemme feel ya,” his accent had been cranked up to a hundred, and in any other situation you would’ve found that funny.

With a final cry of his name, you came again, your vision going white as you temporarily spaced out, the pleasure too overwhelming. When you came to, he had pulled out of you, leaving you empty and shivering. You watched as he stroked himself a few more times before he came all over your stomach.

It was only the sound of breathing in the room now, both of you just staring at each other as you calmed. Relaxing on his coat, you watched as he stood, tucking himself back into his pants as he did. Closing your eyes, you focused on your breathing, jumping when you felt a cloth on your stomach, wiping away his release from your skin.

He didn’t say anything, tossing the cloth to one of the corners of the room when he was done. He placed your clothing beside you, before sitting and resting against the collapsed remnants of the couch, head rolling back.

Groaning, you broke free from the post-orgasmic haze you were in, sitting upright. Both pleasure and pain still lingered in your muscles, making your movements sluggish and uncoordinated. Slipping on your undergarments, the dampened fabric of your underwear was incredibly uncomfortable, but you gritted your teeth and ignored it. After putting on your bra, you debated putting on the Vault-Tec suit, but the idea of putting it back on made our overheated body cry.

The Ghoul watched you as you redressed, thinly veiled desire and interest flicking in those eyes. You were now sitting upright on his jacket, and you got up onto your knees, freeing the garment and holding it in your arms. Scooting towards him, you held it out to him with shaking arms, almost like a peace offering. His eyes didn’t leave you as he took it, setting it beside him.

Before you could decide that it was a bad idea, you sat down next to him, shoulders brushing. If he was surprised, he did a good job of hiding. Exhaustion returned, and you felt your eyes begin to flutter close, head bobbing as you struggled to stay awake.

It was your turn to be surprised when you felt him pull your shoulder down, resting your head in his lap. You were even more surprised when he draped his jacket over your shoulders, the material thin enough to not overheat you. You glanced up at him with wide eyes, but he avoided your gaze, staring at the half-standing wall in front of him.

“Rest. We’re leavin’ at sunrise.” His voice was hoarse, back to that commanding tone from earlier.

Getting as comfortable as you could, you let your eyes shut, sleep beckoning you. You had no idea what was going to happen tomorrow, but as you felt his fingers comb delicately through your hair, you knew that he was no longer going to be following his original plan for you.

#fallout #the ghoul #cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader

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dante-mightdie · 1 day

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your last post gave me bossy blue collar price energy and now I can't stop thinking about him being mildly rude. not in a way that makes his wife cry but every once and a while he'll scruff her neck if she's being a brat or interrupting him. but he always apologizes with a rock of a ring that probably cost his paycheck

I started giggling and kicking my feet whilst getting ready for work and reading this 🤭

c/w: john is a little mean but it’s sexy so idc, groping

everyone knows you’re a little bit or a brat. all of the men on the site can’t believe the shit you get away with. they still think you’re a sweetie though considering you always bring them coffees when you drop one off for your husband, paid for with his card of course

normally when you come up to him asking him to take you shopping or take you out for dinner at the new restaurant that opened up, he just smiles and indulges you. a soft ‘of course, darling’ leaving his lips

but every once in a while you forget your manners on the site, prancing into his office and putting your jimmy choo handbag right on top of his important paperwork :( planting yourself on his lap and smacking a wet kiss onto his lips whilst he’s on the phone

he’ll let a slide for a little while, covering the speaker and moving your bag out of the way. “just a minute, lovely, i’m on the phone.”

you’d pout and grab his wrist when he tries to carry on his phonecall, “can I have your card, please? those shoes I wanted are back in stock.”

he’d put his finger up to his lips, pulling his hand from your grip and carrying on his conversation, ignoring you when you wave your hand in his face, “John! you’re not even listen-“

he cuts off your whining quickly, gripping your jaw and squeezing your cheeks together. not enough to hurt you, of course. he’d never hurt his darling girl but it’s enough to keep you quiet on his lap

“enough. I’m working. How am I meant to buy you stuff if you don’t let me work, hm?” he says, raising his eyebrows at you. he doesn’t give you a chance to respond, going back to his phone call whilst you pout and snuggle into him

it’s a good half an hour until he gets off the phone, “now. what does my sweet girl want?” he’d coo at you before pressing a kiss to the top of your head and taking a hand down to grope your ass

#captain john price x reader #captain price x reader #price x reader #captain john price #john price #captain price #price #john price x reader #bluecollar!price

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minhosimthings · 2 days

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Gilded Skin || 18+

Synopsis: A makeout session with your tattoo artist neighbour

Pairings: tattoo artist!Jay × fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI 18+, Dom!Jay, sub!reader, fingering, p in v sex, rough sex, exhibitionism, semi-public sex, manhandling because idk I love Jay's hands, kinda pervert Jay, unprotected sex (not for you), swearing, use of "sweetheart"

A/N: for you my beloved @jaeyunluvr. Also possibly my last work for in a while since I'm getting kinda busy!

Tattoos.

Controversial (to some people) as they were, you loved them.

The mere thought of getting a tattoo scared you though, yes they were pretty, but number one, money and number two, needles. But soon enough, your friend, Heeseung, who was ironically a tattoo artist himself convinced you to pay a visit to the tattoo parlour.

Normally you would have refused, stating the usual excuse of 'I'm busy maybe next time?'. But lo and behold to Heeseung's ears you agreed this time.

"It's because of that hot guy there isn't it?" Heeseung snickered, his hands on the steering wheel as he drove you to the parlour.

'That hot guy' aka your new neighbour, aka the tattoo artist at the new tattoo parlour that had opened up down the street.

Even though it had been just a two minute walk's distance from you, Heeseung insisted on coming to the parlour with you. Although his actual motives were to see you absolutely melt infront of the man you had a cunt-destroying crush on, he kept on with the absolute lie that he was trying to be a supportive friend, and also obseve the artists at the parlor.

"He has a name you know." You rolled your eyes as Heeseung parked his car into the alleyway, "It's Jay or something."

"So we can no longer call him 'hot guy'?" Heeseung asked, seemingly amused by the way you were fiddling with your fingers, "Shame, I liked that nickname. What do you like about him anyway?"

What did you like about him. What answer could you have possibly given to that? Of course there were so many factors. The fact that he was your new neighbour but you still hadn't talked to him, the fact that he fed the street cats, the fact that he-

"His hands."

Heeseung's reaction was... appropriate to say the least. His choking on air made you roll your eyes, as you slapped his back to make him calm down. Then after a few moments of silence, he burst out laughing.

"His WHAT?" Heeseung held his stomach as raucous laughs escaped his lips, "Please don't tell me you're being serious right now." He doubled over again, almost hitting his head to the car's ceiling.

"Oh shut up, you're talking as if you're any better." You rolled your eyes, opening the car door, with Heeseung doing the same, "Remember last September when you-"

"Do not even start right now." Heeseung glared, slamming his car door shut, "Come on, don't want to keep the hands waiting do we?"

Taking a deep breath and letting it out rather too quickly, you pushed on the neon pink decorated door, which opened with a tinkling sound. The smell of lavender hung around, an unfamiliar scent for a tattoo store, which was covered in rock posters from head to toe, along with a few blue beads here and there, the kind Heeseung liked to collect.

"Hey." You greeted the red haired girl behind the counter, "I have an appointment under the name Y/N."

The girl looked up and sent you a quick smile before looking down at her computer, her eyes whipping around before finding a spot she thought was satisfactory.

"Yep right here." She popped her lips together, "I'll see if anyone is free Ma'am, could you wait for a minute?"

You smiled at her as if to say yes and plopped down on the couch next to Heeseung, who had been analysing the store with a lot of vigour in his eyes.

"It's fancy." He whispered, eyeing the girl at the counter, "Let's just hope your man comes out and you can get to catcall him before he goes."

"I am not going to catcall him, im not you." You chuckled, getting distracted from the conversation when you saw a black haired figure from the corner of your eye.

"Is that-?" Heeseung didn't even have to finish his sentence. He knew, judging from the look in your eyes and the fact that your mouth fell slightly open, that this was the person he ever so passionately called "your man".

You were mesmerised.

No, mesmerised wasn't the right word.

You were starstruck.

Maybe your hormones were on a whole different level, maybe you had just been dick-deprived for a long time, or maybe it was the lavender fumes, but you truly thought you had seen a Greek God fill the vision of your corneas.

"Y/N. Y/N!"

You felt Heeseung's elbow jab you painfully in the side, which was effective in breaking you out of your stupor. You blinked a couple of times, to see the red haired woman and Jay looking at you in what seemed to be amusement.

The woman coughed to defuse the seeming tention, you swore you could feel Heeseung awkwardly smiling for your left.

Well they always say bad beginnings have good endings don't they?

"So," A steady hand carefully polished the silver of the miniscule needle, "Y/N was it?"

Though the air conditioning was turned onto a high, you could feel sweat drops form at your forehead, why were his hands polishing the needle so erotically?

"Y-Yeah. You're Jay right?" You managed to cough out, feeling yourself immediately melt into the chair leather chain again when his eyes fell on you. His eyes were sharp as an eagle's, seemingly darting around to catch it's prey, but never leaving one point of focus.

"Nervous?" Jay chuckled, "Don't be, unless you're chronically afraid of needles."

"I am." You laughed, leaning back a little more comfortably on the chair, "Probably shouldn't have gotten a tattoo then should I?"

"Perhaps not on your most sensitive area." Jay nodded, sitting in front of you, his legs spread wide open, did he realise how welcoming that was to you?, "Most people go for the arm, I'm surprised you went for your thigh."

"Heeseung told me it doesn't hurt much." You braced yourself in the chair at the sight of Jay's needle pressing into his tattoo machine, "He's a tattoo artist too."

"I should make a friend of him then." Jay chuckled, looking into your eyes, he could bore deepwells in them and you thought you'd forgive such a handsome man like him, "How did you meet him?"

"Are you-" you gave him a funny look, "Are you trying to make conversation with me?"

"It helps most of them." Jay shrugged and smiled at you, you noticed his dimple come off his cheek, the one you saw last week, whilst spying on him from your bedroom window.

"So, new neighbour who I've never talked to until now," Jay raised his eyes up to you, "How about some conversation to lessen the pain?"

You had always known since you were a child that you had the attention span of a butterfly, eyes always zooming from one place to the other, but you never knew all you needed was a handsome face and some pretty hands to get you to focus.

Jay's deep voice soothed into your nerves, effectively proving his theory of "more talk, less pain". You hadn't noticed much of the tattooing process, except for a few instances here and there when his knuckles brushed across the skin of your thigh, making you mold your orgasmic whimpers into 'painful' winces. You could physically hear Heeseung in your brain telling you about your pain kink.

"So any relationship goals?" Jay asked you, your eyes briefly meeting with his, as his fingers stopped to move across the cross section, "I know that's sorta personal, don't answer if you don't want to."

"No it's fine." You laughed, pretending as if you didn't maniacally want to answer the question, "I'm still single for now, and as for goals, I'm free for ramen tomorrow, and that's it."

"So how about ramen tomorrow then?" Jay smiled, looking up at you, his hands coming to a halt and resting softly on your thigh.

"Will we be eating or will we be talking like this?" You chuckled, your brain fog capturing you entirely as you had no idea what words were coming out of your mouth, "Because to be honest, I'd just be staring at either your lips or your hands if we do either of them."

The most painful part of getting a tattoo, according to the internet, was the beginning part, when you'd be so scared, because apparently fear paralyses you more than the actual tattoo process. But you now knew, the most painful part would probably be Jay's amused eyes staring at you, while your brain managed to catch up with what you just said.

"Oh- no! No I'm so sorry—i didn't mean-"

"It's fine sweetheart." Jay's soft voice stopped your panicking, he stifled a chuckle at your behaviour. Adorable, he thought.

"No I'm really sorry Jay, I shouldn't have said that." You apologised again, feeling the heat come upto your cheeks.

"Oh sweetheart." Jay chuckled, leaning in towards you, "Do you really think I had no idea of your pretty little face spying on me through your window?"

He knew?

"I must admit, you look cute in that flimsy tank top, which hides nothing by the way." His deep voice rang through your eardrums, "but don't worry, I won't press charges or anything on you for spying."

Your back pressed against the leather of the leaning chair, as Jay put his tattoo machine down. Taking off his gloves, his tongue swept across his lips in a swift motion, as his hands trapped you in a cage, laying on either side of you.

"May I?" Jay asked, not even waiting for permission, he already knew the next thing to come out of your mouth was a pathetic whimper.

Without a moment's waste, his soft lips landed on yours, hands rubbing to take off your shorts.

You soon became lost in his presence, lips meeting his in a fiery kiss. his tongue pushed past, kissing you like his life depended on it.

"Fuck sweetheart." Jay said, "You taste good."

You moaned quietly into his mouth, feeling his fingers trail down and start to rub your clit. Your hand came down to grab his cock, already half hard, and you could feel him growing with each stroke you gave him.

His fingers slipped past your clit, toying with your opening and eventually plunging in as deep as he could with the angle he was at. Your head fell back, resting on the leather of the chair as your pussy fluttered around his fingers.

“fuck, you're so tight.,” he managed to say through gritted teeth, chuckling as you let out a stifled whimper, "You like that baby? You like my fingers hm?"

He began to set a fast pace, one of his hands gripping your hip to keep you in place for him and the other hand next to your head. you could see the veins in his arms as it flexed beside you, no doubt he was trying to hold back.

Small whimpers came out of your mouth with each thrust, but then you heard it. Footsteps outside the room, you had forgotten you were in a public place in the heat of the moment. The footsteps died down after a few seconds.

“Just gonna have to keep those pretty sounds in. Wouldn’t want them to hear you,” You clenched down at that.

He chuckled, a devilish, almost cruel sounding chuckle like he had something in mind.

“oh you like that, huh? Like the idea of someone walking in on us fucking in here, watching us. Watching you come apart on my fingers. You’d like that, wouldn’t you baby? Dirty fucking slut.”

At that moment, he made it his mission to make you cum, hard. keeping one hand clamped around your mouth to stifle your moans, your eyes practically rolled back into your head when his fingers touched a particularly sensitive position, the new position making his fingers fuck impossibly deeper into you.

As you were nearing release Jay pulled away standing up, quickly unbuckling his pants to unveil his already hard twitching cock eager to pound into you.

“gonna let me fuck you princess? gonna be a good girl for me?” he says, stroking his dick as he swipes his thumb over his slit wiping away his precum yet it still spews out, covering thumbs in the substance

He held the base of his cock, dragging the tip in between your wet folds, before slowly pushing himself into you, causing a groan to escape from the back of his throat.

His hands grabbing onto your hips, he began to slowly move his hips watching your pussy swallow his cock.

“You feel so fucking good” he said as he began to pick up the pace. Your hand moved up to your mouth blocking out the moans leaving your lips, doing your very best to stay quiet enough so others wouldn’t hear your lewd sounds.

Jay's thrusts became rough, his hand releasing your hip entangling his fingers through your hair tugging on it as he pounded into you. “You’re such a good girl, taking me so well”.

“fuck…you’re so tight” he says, pulling your legs up to sit on his shoulders as he thrusts inside you at a steady motion, fucking you deliciously in missionary. His eyes stare at your tits that are bouncing with each motion he pulls you in.

“fuck baby..i’m gonna cum…gonna cum inside” he says as he gets that dumb look on his face, he squeezes your breast with white knuckles as something to hold on to while his eyes roll back in his head, a beam of his sweat falling on your chest.

your orgasm comes as his does, his dick twitching inside of your cunt making it almost impossible to keep going.

“m’gonna cum too…” you whimper, wrapping your legs around his waist, pushing him further into you to feel his cum covering your walls. the warm liquid coming fast inside you.

as Jay pulls out, he’s met with his mess, the pool of his cum leaking out of your cunt.

His fingers make their way down and pump inside of you, the squelching noise of your wet pussy filling the room. His fingers make their way out of your cunt and up to your mouth, pushing in his cum covered fingers inside your mouth.

“Suck sweetheart.” he demands, and so you do. You suck the mixture of cum off of his fingers while maintaining eye contact, his thumb cradling your chin for support. You could get intoxicated on those eyes for centuries.

Jay's thumb swept out of your mouth swiftly, as his lips landed on yours again, pressing you into a sweet and chaste kiss, breathing heavily as he pulled away and supported your tired structure with his strong arms. You could see the veins flex on his hands.

"So how about that ramen date tomorrow hm?" Jay asked, his dimple once again appearing on his cheek, "that is, if you can handle staring at my hands while I eat."

"A ramen date, if I can walk by tomorrow." You chuckled, "So, I guess this messy hair is because I was struggling too much out of pain while getting the tattoo? Or should I tell Heeseung something else?"

"Tell him how good of an artist I am." Jay chuckled, "And that his friend won't have to spy through bedroom windows anymore."

"Was I really that noticeable?" You rolled your eyes playfully, as Jay handed you your shorts.

"Sweetheart you have no idea."

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crispy-armpit · 3 days

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2k follower special <3!!!

THANK YOU SO SO MUCH TO MY BEAUTIFUL 2,000+ FOLLOWERS!!

even though I have bouts of inactivity and a lot of inconsistency in my work, I am so thankful for all your support and love <3 as a thank you, have a short 2k special featuring my most popular boys, Liam & Deimos!

may be suggestive at the start;;; and big poly vibes

"you're doing so good taking us both, songbird... aren't they, pretty boy?", Deimos purrs.

Liam gives a whiny response, "fuck... where'd you learn to move like that, y/n? you didn't even give me a chance to finish you!"

your hands grip further into the controller in your hands, a minor migraine beginning to form, "please refrain from using dirty words while I'm kicking both of your asses in Tekken."

you feel the sofa where the three of you were lying down shifting from both sides, as you had been seated in between both men.

on the left, Deimos who was leaning himself on your shoulder shifted his head on your lap. his nose and lips snuggling themselves into the lower region of your torso. he sighs, "just let poor Lili win at least once, songbird... it's late and I need you in the bedroom as my favourite body pillow."

on the right, Liam had left the comfort of the sofa and moved to the floor, sitting right next to your legs. with his most pathetic puppy eyes, he begs while hugging your right leg, "pleaseee baby, let me win!! I need at least one win so I can go to bed in peace tonight..."

"no. both of you need to leave right now, go to bed!"

this was another one of their tactics to get you to sleep with them (you have a terrible sleep schedule). which isn't a bad thing, you love sleeping in between them.

but most of the time, it really really sucks- like in a suffocating way. by that you mean sandwiched between two pairs of defined and humongous man tits type of suffocating. and they always have you cornered or have their hands on you all night, so there's absolutely zero chance of you getting away from their tight grasp. it's as if their bodies are trying to fuse us together.

this was your way of saving yourself. by going to sleep later than them, they would be forced to lay next to each other instead, therefore giving you a fresh supply of oxygen through the night!

..... which is what you had planned in mind. but fate and two overly clingy adult men had other plans by accompanying you until you finally succumbed to sleep.

"look, I still need to finish the story mode, so you guys just go ahead first- AAAH!!"

Deimos picks your body up over his shoulder with ease, "ain't no way we're leaving you, I need my pillow."

Liam looks at you with a pitiful smile, "and I need my baby next to me."

"nooo... why won't you two just snuggle each other instead? you guys always suffocate me in your sleep", you complain.

"cause you're you. and we like it better when you're with us."

Deimos bellows as he opens the door to your shared bedroom, "yeah right! ya just need y/n to rub one out at night!"

"don't act so holy either, Deimos." Liam glares at him from behind.

lord, please save me from these idiots...

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agoofyannoyancetolaw · 3 days

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direct

a/n: another wonderful writing piece created from a random idea at 3 am like three months ago that I found in my notes today

Minors, just- leave? Jeez.

Graves has kept his eyes on you for a while. You’re the newest recruit of course- you’re a hard worker, you’re loyal, The Way your muscles flex under your training shirt, he’s everything he wants in a soldier. but he can’t seem to pin something about you. He feels like he can’t keep his eyes off you

It’s an odd urge at work that he can’t shake if it, though he usually has some self control. Sure he slept with soldiers before; hell, he’s probably such a MOST of his soldiers. But he doesn’t just want to do that with you, he wants you.

He’s been trying to flirt with you for days, chasing you around in circles even though you don’t seem to notice- it’s driven him half to insanity in fact. Can’t you just pick up that your pretty commander wants you? He couldn’t even Jack off without thinking about you or having something that smelt like you around. And even then he just wanted you.

He’s not keen on being direct, but god he wants you. So? He barges into your shower after an overly tiring mission, basically collapsing into you and simply wanting you to make all his thoughts go away. His body moving before his brain could think about his dumb choice

“please, please, please just fuck me already.” Graves mumbled while looking up at you, whining and begging like a fucking dog, but he’s desperate

and much to his surprise, you don’t say no, you simply shut him up with a harsh kiss before bending him over and folding him like a lawn chair. Feeling the burning of you slipping your tip in without barely and prep or warning

Graves let out a low whine, he felt as if he was being split open while you slid in inch by inch and it was the best feeling in the world, the warmth of the water pouring down over both of you making everything feel muddled and harsh. God this was what he wanted, to just slip into the subspace in his head.

he felt half bad for anyone else in the shower rooms, his little whimpers and moans slipping though even though he tried to muffle them by covering his mouth, loud enough that anyone around could hear him still when you pulled out just to the tip and plunged back in again and again and again. He couldn’t count how many times he had cum or if it were sweat sliding down his back or just the warm water from the shower head. His vision was starting to get blurry by the time you turned off the shower and pulled out after filling him to the near brim, a little wince at the new cold feeling making all his overstimulated senses spike.

he got what he wanted, at least?

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flamingpudding · 2 days

Note

I had a crack idea that I was thinking of so you know in Dan is Klarion au I was imagining a au based off of that one where all of Danny's children are Klarion is like the robin thing for Batman it started off with Danielle when nabu insulted Danny as the Ghost King and Balance

Ever since Ellie decided that she needed to get back in blood so she made the chaotic antihero Klarion and and her suppose it familiar 'cat' Teekl the way to help out her mother and mess with Dr Fate/Nabu Teekl is actually a bear with an illusion on that makes him look like a cat in the human's eyes

Whatever since the anti-hero Klarion in The Phantom family has been passed down each of them giving their own flair to the persona of Klarion with a different animal every time that they had pretending to be a cat

Tell her to finally passed on to Dan it is an honorary sibling thing each of them has their own antihero name once they passed down the title of Klarion

Diana's query and takes after his father's style of dressing and his tickle is a phoenix

First of Thanks for the Ask! Inspirational as always! Helps with my writers block [insert awkward laugh]

Either way because this is split in two asks... you get two version! One focused on how it started and the other on the reveal! Though the might be some little Shorts... Also there is something really funny to me about a giant bear letting Illusionen into a cat... So Enjoy!

(BTW still thinking over the other ask... and working on it don't worry!)

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

Ellie huffed as Danny reprimanded her for her actions. She just huffed crossing her arms. She was just helping Danny. Her mom got a lot on his shoulders and she as the sort of oldest saw that the best. Sure technically Dan was older then her but, he shrunk down to kid level again and now she was the oldest.

Well if she ignored her other brothers but they were only saved recently and still in treatment with Frostbite. So she was the oldest. End of story.

"Ellie you can't just go off like that you know that messing with an Ancient is not-"

"Mom, That Nabu-Guy was being a pain in the a- " - "Ellie!" - "A PAIN, babbling on to much about Order here Order there. How keeping Balance means keeping Order and bla bla bla!" She cut in stopping her mom before he could go on another rant about the Ancients, she needed to treat with respect.

"He doesn't respect you, the Ancient of Balance! You are the literal Symbol of Balance between Life and Death! Aside from being the Ghost King. So of course I had to mess with the one HE mentors!" Ellie added huffing as she crossed her arms.

Danny pinched the bridge of his nose. "Ellie, you created an entire alternate persona!"

"Yea so?"

"You used an illusion spell on Fluffels!"

"And? Any good Anit-Hero needs a Mascot." Ellie shrugged once more looking up at her mom before looking over to Fluffels, her pet ghost grizzly that was pretty much double maybe even tripple her size and the fluffiest ghost grizzly you could find in the entire Ghost Zone, and the cutest.

Danny on the other hand groaned, wondering if he had done anything wrong while raising Danielle. Sure he had been a teen himself but good damit why the hell did Ellie decided messing with the Ancient of Order or rather his mentee was a good idea. "I am calling Jazz! You can explain to her what you were thinking!"

He was definitely to overworked and stressed to deal with Ellies mischievousness right now. Well she did call her alternate persona Klarion, Lord of Chaos. Nope! He was not dealing with this right now, so Danny did the sanest thing he could think of. Turning on his heel and walking away. Where to? Who cares maybe he would check in with his old man Clockwork and see what Ellie had actually been up to, instead of just reading through Nabu's complains.

Ellie on the other hand blinked watching her mom leave before calling after him. "Does that mean I have to stop, being Klarion?"

"Mom?!"

"MOM!"

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

"Well hello my lovely Amadillos! Long time not seen!"

Ellie shouted cheerfully as she twirled into appearing hair styled into a horn like form, black suit and she might have over done it a little with the black eyeliner but hey it was an iconic look wasn't it. She smirked as Fluffles growled which translated into a meow for the mortals before her thank to the illusion spell.

The mortal teen looked up at her surprised as she floated down her hand glowing with red ectoplasm (a color change from her usual green ectoplasm that had taken a while to learn from Pandora). Young Justice was currently transporting something of interest to her. Well of Interest for the Justice League, really but Doctor Fate was involved which meant Nabu was involved, which naturally meant she would get involved. It didn't hurt that she would also get to try to try some new tricks.

"You got something interesting there... and I want that." She grinned. Ellie didn't give them long before she acted using the new tricks she had learned.

"Woah! Hey there, watch the pointy and sharp thowies!" She laughed making a quick shield as she blocked some batarangs and arrows before blinking.

"Hey they look different. Robin, did you change equipment? Did you get a new haircut too?" She asked curious but didn't really receive an answer as they ignored her questions and shouted something about distracting her while the others continue the transportation. Still she bend down to pick one of them up twirling it between her fingers. "What gives didn't they have a different design before?"

In hindsight it was probably not a good idea to just abandon her original goal but Robin was making her curious. And she could always find a different way to mess with Nabu. Her mom had given her an indirect okay years ago anyway.

"Teekl!" She called out and only her eyes could see how Fluffles jumped at the call growling in response as he swatted away some of the more annoying Young Justice kids. To the mortals it probably looked like Teekl was using ectoplasm, or well magic, in their eyes.

She used that change to go up into Robins face smirking widely as she looked at the other more closely, trying to get a read on him. "You are different! You aren't the same Robin I meet before!"

She ducked in time avoid Superboy as she hopped back excited with a new idea for her family.

But first she would have to deal with the little chaos and mischief she was creating.

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

".....and that is how I learned that the Robin title is getting passed down. So I was thinking of doing the same!" Ellie broadly stated looking at all her younger siblings before her. "We all get pretty annoyed with the way Nabu treats Mom so there always has to be a Lord of Chaos to 'balance' Nabu out!"

She grinned at her siblings expecting the same kind of excitement she had and they didn't disappoint. Danny had been there for all of them, even going so far as in to find a way with Clockwork to save some of their lives. So of course they all would jump at the change to mess with the one Ancient that was badmouthing their Mother just because Balance didn't entitle Order the way they wanted.

After all Chaos was needed to Balance Order out.

This was going to be fun...

[Follow up part Linked here]

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formula1blog · 2 days

Text

Traitor- CL16

Part 1- Traitor ( you are here)

Part 2- Take me back to the night we met

Part 3- Bust your windows out your car

Boyfriend Charles Leclerc x singer Fem!Reader

Summary: You found out that your boyfriend cheated on you and your friends help you pack up.

wc: 1200+

A/N: I am using Alex for the photos, but of course no hate to her.

F1Gossip

F1Gossip: Charles Leclerc spotted on a yacht with a mysterious woman. Are Charles and singer Y/N L/N, his 'current' girlfriend, broken up after five years of dating?

Cl16ferarri: Charles nooo

Y/NisBest: All Men do is lie

F1Ferarrifan: I can't defend you anymore Charles. WHYYYY

Y/n/Charles: They were suppose to get married.

-> clsuppermarcy: they were together for 5 years. How can that not mean anything to him???

Lovegossip: Maybe they just broke up. He didn't have to cheat.

User682: Home wrecker

LebeYN: I feel a new album coming

-> SingerF1: I hope so

HateYm: Finally, i hated her

-> Supportynalways: Fuck off

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

You couldn't believe it. When you opened up Twitter and saw that your boyfriend, now an ex-boyfriend, was trending you didn't expect it to be because of this. Charles had been spotted with a woman on a yacht. They were standing to close to each other, to close to be friends. Your gut feelings were confirmed when you saw the next photo. They were laying on a sunbed, this woman on top of Charles, making out. The next photo was Charles kissing her, it kept going.

You had felt sick to your stomach by the look of it. How could you be so stupid to let this happen. He had told you that he was going to a meeting with his team. Well this looked highly unprofessional and definitely a job for HR. Did those five years mean nothing to him?

You had gotten up from the couch to pack your bags. You were still in your apartment, in Charles apartment. You tried to get everything in your suitcases, not wanting to go back and see Charles. You know that if he asks to forgive him you wouldn't be able to resist him.

You heard your phone ringing and saw that it was Pierre. Not knowing if Pierre already knew and wanted to talk about that or if it was an emergency, you picked up. "Bonjour Pierre," you greeted through the phone. You placed the phone on the duvet so you could continue while speaking. "Salut, are you okay?" he asked right away. Was Pierre really asking you this, probably knowing what is going on. Being Charles' s best friend he should not be doing this.

Placing some clothes inside the suitcase you answered "Never been better," The answer was filled with a thick layer of sarcasm. Tears were now streaming down your face as you tried to keep your breathing steady. "I am going to get you with Kika. We will be there in 20 minutes, please don't leave." you heard a car start in the background and you couldn't believe what was happening. Even though you, Pierre and Kika were close, you were friends with them because of Charles. Charles had been the one to introduce you to his best friend, who later became one of your closest friends. "You don't have to. I can just take a cab to the airport, you don't have to ruin your time." you snicked.

You heard a voice in the background of the phone and before you knew it Kika's voice was filling the phone speaker. "Hello Honey, don't even try to resist. We will pick you up. You are in no state to be alone. We will get some take out and watch a movie. " you smile at her comment. You love her for this.

"Wouldn't it be weird for Pierre. I mean that jerk is his best friend." you heard a soft 'put it on speaker' before hearing the french mans voice again. "He is, but not right now. I don't tolerate cheating. I will not take his side on this." laughing you finally agree with their suggestion of picking you up. "Alright, I am still packing so you don't need to be so fast. I am trying to get five whole years into two suitcases. "

Everywhere you looked in the apartment it reminded you of Charles. He had asked you to move in after 1 year of dating and you had abruptly moved all your possessions into his apartment. It had become your home. You had filled it with furniture you found in stores. Your plants were in all the Corners and there was no way to take those all with you. Pictures of you and Charles were standing on your nightstand, his eyes looking right at you. Had you been so blind to see that it was all fake?

He hadn't even tried to call you after the gossip was all on the internet. You knew that he had seen it, that boy was always looking up his own name. He had to know what people were thinking of him. He had seen the pictures, seen the way people were thinking and he didn't even try to talk to you.

You heard a knock on the door and screamed that the door was open. Not even ten seconds later Kika was by your side and took you into a hug. "I am so sorry honey. Men are truely awful." you couldn't help but let tears stream down your face as your wrapped your arms around the Portuguese woman. "Don't let your boyfriend hear that." you joked and

"I am not here to judge, only to carry your stuff out of here. I have an extra box for your books."He held up a big carton box, two more laying next to him "I don't know if everything fits if you need more stuff in these, but at least more than those suitcases. " Pierre walked towards the bookshelf which was mostly filled with your books. You have always adored reading, but because of your singing career you didn't have much time for it. "Just tell me which one are you favorites and I put them all in and move them to my car. We do need to hurry a bit because I know that Charles is on a flight back."

Of course that man was coming back home. That is why she wanted to leave so fast as she could to do everything to avoid that jerk. "If you can grab all the limited edition and hardcover ones first that would be great. For the rest just fill them with what space is left. I am really thankful for your help." Pierre shrugs his shoulders as if it wasn't a big deal. He started to place all the books carefully into the boxes. Kika had walked to your bathroom to get your make up and skin care products.

After ten more minutes of packing up and checking if you had all the important stuff, you three left the apartment and walked towards Pierre's car with the suitcases. Kika went to sit next to you in the back and Pierre behind the wheel. "What do you want to eat?" the model asked. You didn't really mind so long it wasn't ice cream. Charles had taken a lot of his own brand home but his trainer didn't let him eat it, so you had been trying to get rid of all those tubs by eating them. "I just want some sloppy, salty McDonalds fries. And maybe a burger."

Pierre had put it on the radio and started to drive to the main road. "McDonalds it is."

Part 2

#charles leclerc 16 #charles lecrelc #cl16 #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader #f1 #formula 1 #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #pierre gasly #kika gomes #charles leclerc

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rookthorne · 2 days

Text

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐃𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐬, 𝐃𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐬

To find one to dance to the Devil’s call was a rare thing, but you found your match in the least expected place.

The only problem? A small, little girl that was determined to never let her new friend forget that she was home, too.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ୨୧ DILF!Bucky Barnes x Babysitter!F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ୨୧ 2.9k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ୨୧ Fluff, domesticity, pancakes are a love language, heated kissing, implied adult discussion (doesn't actually happen in the fic), very light angst (anxiety)

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 ୨୧ The awaited sequel is here! ୨୧ I think it's a very possible eventuation that I am addicted to writing this smug, arrogant, son of a— ୨୧ A very big thank you to @smutconnoisseur for being my soundboard for this fic, and for helping me make the ending the best it could be — I am so damned grateful.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒔 ୨୧ older by Isabel LaRosa ୨୧ Lose Control by Teddy Swims

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 ୨୧ @buckybarnesevents Build a Bucky Bingo ჻჻჻ Mutual Pining (March), Domestic (April) — Masterlist

𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

You were slow to wake the next day. The sun had not yet started to bleed through the curtains on the opposite side of the room — it couldn’t have been any later than sunrise, you hoped.

The night before had been one hell of a shock to your system, and you could still feel Bucky’s lips ghost over yours if you just thought hard enough; or how his voice lowered to a tenor that shook you to your core. All night you dreamed of more, chasing that forbidden high he supplied wholly and fully — a willing and far more enthusiastic half to your own.

Naturally, there were going to be obstacles and challenges to navigate to the possibility of a relationship — one of which you could hear parading up and down the hallway with fast, little footsteps.

After Starlet’s pressing interrogation while you readied her for sleep — a surprise that she (impressively) cornered you with — that it may be more of a smooth reveal than you could hope for, but still, nerves boiled and bubbled in your stomach, clinging to your insides like glue.

No point delaying it any longer, you thought, and you threw the mountain of covers off of your body. Though the indiscernible noise of the plush mattress moving underneath your sleep-stiff body was a siren call for small ears, fortunately, or unfortunately.

The door creaked open just as you lifted your head off of the pillow, and a figure, their head no taller from the floor to the handle, peered inside. “Hello?”

You blinked and sat up further. “He– Oof!”

In a blur of stripes and polka dots and a tangle of hair, you were knocked back onto the mattress with two thin arms around your neck. “Fawn! You’re here! Did you st– Why are you here? Did daddy let you sleep–?”

“Let her wake up, baby,” a deep voice said from the doorway. It neared as they said, “And I told you, no playing upstairs.” The weight moved from your front to your side, and you saw a toothy, bright grin that could belong to no other than Starlet. “There she is.”

You looked to the side and saw Bucky standing at the end of the bed, arms crossed over his chest. He wore a dark cotton shirt and grey sweatpants while his hair lay loose and mussed. Every last comprehensible, coherent thought fled your mind and pooled in your stomach, and Bucky knew as such — the blue of his eyes darkened with a knowing glint, turning them stormy grey.

Get it together, you intoned — outwardly, you said with a rasp, “Well, good morning to you two.”

“Good mornin’, Fawn,” Bucky said, beaming down at you. “Did you get some sleep, love?” The weight on your side pressed harder while Bucky spoke.

“Good, good, good morning,” Starlet sang, her smile as wide as her father’s.

A light laugh flowed with your words, “Yeah, I slept well, really well, thank you. Wait– Do I smell–”

“Breakfast! Daddy started it already because he is the best.” Bucky put a hand over his heart and inclined his head, before dramatically wiping a non-existent tear. Starlet shook your shoulder to get your attention and said, “Do you like coffee? I can press the big button on daddy’s machine for you!”

“Sure, honey,” you said, and before you could offer to help her down from the bed, she took off like a shot towards the door and down the hall. “Well, that went better than I could have hoped…”

Bucky laughed and shook his head, then he looked at you; a piercing stare that rooted you to the spot. “You feelin’ okay, baby?”

You gulped. “Y– Yeah, I am, are you?”

There was a beat of silence, the tension mounting by the second, when Bucky rounded the end of the bed to stand right next to you. His hand brushed the side of your neck, then his thumb lifted your chin.

“Never been better, Doe,” he murmured, and he leaned close to kiss you softly. It was a fleeting, chaste brush of lips, but it didn’t fail to stir up the heat that had been left simmering from the night before. “We’ll talk later, but come down and get some breakfast, okay?”

“Okay,” you managed, though it sounded more like a wheezed gasp than a reply. “I– uh–” You cleared your throat and sat up more. “I’ll see you in the kitchen.”

A soft smile pulled at the corner of Bucky’s lips, and he nodded when a yell from downstairs echoed up the well, “Daddy!”

Bucky sighed and turned towards the door. “What?” he called back.

“I wanna give Fawn one of my cups for her big girl drink!” You snorted a laugh while Bucky walked towards the door.

“Starlet Barnes, I swear to Gramma Winnie that if you’re up on that damned stool–” His voice trailed away while he made his way down to stop his daughter from injuring herself.

The covers came away with a rustle, and you moved to stand up and stretch.

The adjoining bathroom to the guest bedroom was just as opulent as you could have expected — marble tiles lined the floor, and some type of gleaming tile decorated each wall. It was coloured with deep, moody tones, and as you fiddled with the shower, steam billowed through the room.

You took a deep breath, letting the steam fill your lungs. The racing thoughts slowed as soon as the water pelted against your skin, a soothing pattern that allowed you to distance yourself from the worries of what was to come. “It’ll be okay,” you murmured to yourself, cupping your face in your hands. “It will be okay.”

After some time passed, you stepped out from the guest room, dressed in a set of clothes Bucky left for you. It was a shirt, and a pair of soft, worn slacks — they were beyond comfortable, and you yawned as you began to make your way to the stairs.

But you froze as you reached the top of the stairs. Bucky was talking quietly, his voice soft. “Don’t bombard the poor girl, baby.” The scrape of utensils on a plate echoed, and then the drag of porcelain over tile. “She’s stressed—can’t have any more on her shoulders, can we?”

You leaned forward over the balustrade to look down into the kitchen. From your vantage point, Starlet was sitting on a tall stool and Bucky was next to her, cutting up her pancakes with care.

The distance made it hard to discern the quiet words that Starlet uttered, but you caught them, nonetheless. “Can I make her a picture, daddy?”

Bucky beamed at his daughter. “‘Course you can, honey. I think Fawn would love it; she might even stick it on her fridge at home–”

“But home is here; she’s staying here isn’t she–?”

“Uh–” Bucky’s voice was strained, dumbstruck with the implicit question not unlike the interrogation you survived through by the skin of your teeth the night before. “Honey… I, uh– Fawn–”

“But you smile a lot when she’s around,” Starlet insisted.

There was no air, you couldn’t pull any into your lungs; it was sapped from the atmosphere, vanished without a trace to leave you reeling at the top of the stairs. “Shit,” you muttered.

After a long moment of silence, where you could physically watch the gears turn in Bucky’s head on how best to assuage and sate his daughter’s curiosity and downright accurate observations, he spoke. “I know, baby. Fawn is very special to me; she’s kind, she’s funny, and she’s very pretty. But you’re my priority, Starlet—always will be.

His thumb brushed her small chin, and he leaned down to kiss her forehead. “She takes good care a’you and that’s what’s most important.”

You could almost hear the unspoken undercurrent of meaning in his words, and it made your stomach flip.

However, nothing could have prepared you for what Starlet said next.

“She makes you happy, daddy,” she said, almost a whisper. “I like seeing you smile—uncle Steeb said it’s important to be happy.”

“Oh,” you gasped, and your hand flew to cover your mouth. Tears from overwhelming tides of emotion flocked your lash line, blurring your vision.

“I guess it is, honey,” Bucky said softly.

It took a long while to gather your senses while you stood on the balustrade, hand still clutching the stair rail for support. The powerful waves of emotion battered against the walls you had so weakly placed around your heart, and in your own disbelief, you wondered how this could have happened so fast — not long ago you were holed up in your apartment looking for work when you stumbled upon that advertisement. You jumped at the chance, and it landed you here, in a position where you were stuck between a rock in a hard place.

To confess and ruin your prospects for your job but possibly gain something so much more or keep your thoughts to yourself and pray that it fizzled on its own.

And even then, you knew you were asking for a miracle; that kiss still lingered in your mind, overshadowing your waking thoughts with more than inappropriate fantasies of just how experienced he was.

You shook your head, willing the thoughts to quieten down, at least until after breakfast — Bucky said the two of you could talk about that kiss. That would be the time to find answers, you reasoned.

Slowly, you took the stairs one by one, sure to make yourself heard and known. The living room and kitchen was flooded with natural sunlight that streamed through the trees that lined the edge of the property, and on the edge of the counter closest to you was a bouquet of white roses, wrapped in white cellophane.

Bucky looked up from his daughter’s plate and smiled widely as he took you in. The softness of his eyes made your heart ache; a yearning to stride forwards and embrace him. “They’re for you, Fawn,” he said, nodding to the roses. “Little miss Starlet helped me pick ‘em out for you—as a thank you,” he added as you tilted your head in confusion. “Had ‘em delivered this mornin’.”

“You didn’t have–” You started, but Starlet began to fuss.

“And I did a little picture,” she gushed, pointing at a small piece of paper placed carefully between the numerous bulbs.

“She did,” Bucky agreed.

You smiled, just a twitch of your lips, and you walked towards the arrangement. The roses were in full bloom, their beauty bewitching and soft, tender — just like the love you held for the pair in front of you. “They’re beautiful,” you whispered, touching the outer ring of petals with the pad of your index finger.

The crayon drawing depicted a princess between a knight and a queen, their gowns flowing in a rainbow of colours, and the knight’s armour gleamed white from the imaginary sun in the top corner of the paper. You looked towards Starlet and smirked. “And now I have a perfect addition for my fridge.”

Starlet positively beamed with pride.

A plate loaded with an assortment of breakfast foods replaced the bouquet, and you glanced down — Bucky cooked each morsel to perfection, and you couldn’t help but feel your mouth water from the aromas that spliced the air. Complex notes of browned butter and sugar mixed with the heady, salted scents that could rival a five-star restaurant.

You furrowed your brows in confusion. “Buck–? Were you a chef?”

Bucky laughed and hung his head, and to your surprise, a blush started to bloom over his cheekbones. A few strands of loose hair fell from behind his ears, and you felt faint with the need to tuck them back, while also conflicted with the lust to run your fingers through it from root to tip and pull.

“I’ve been around for a while, honey,” he chuckled, throwing a hand towel over his shoulders. His hands held the edge of the counter, and he leaned forward, pushing his weight onto his wrists to make his biceps bulge — it was an effort to focus only on his face. “Learned a lot, all that sh–” His gaze snapped to a preoccupied Starlet who happily ate her pancakes while swinging her feet. “Sugar.”

You snorted a laugh and shook your head. “I can imagine.”

The three of you tucked in and finished breakfast with little incident — Starlet determinedly rambled on about how many new drawings she was going to complete that afternoon, all while Bucky encouraged her and poked into her ideas with a cheeky, mischievous nature. It was no wonder that Starlet caught on and stared at her father with narrowed eyes.

“I’ll show you,” she huffed, and she pushed the empty plate away towards him. “May I be excused?”

“Yeah, baby, you go get what you wanna show me,” Bucky said smoothly, picking up the plate. “Fawn and I will be here waitin’.”

Starlet dashed off with her unparalleled enthusiasm, and you looked back towards Bucky to start a pleasant conversation, when the words died on your tongue. The blazing want in his once cerulean eyes had vanished behind the inky black of his pupils, and his eyes were darting back and forth from your eyes to your lips, where they lingered.

You watched, enraptured, while his tongue ran over his bottom lip. “I– Hmph!”

His lips collided with yours while his left hand cupped your jaw, his right pawing at your waist. Your feet stumbled clumsily backwards, only able to go where he put you, and your back hit the fridge door. The force of it made the appliance rattle.

It didn’t deter you from giving him your all — the raw passion behind the kiss fueled the simmering fire into an inferno, the heat of it lapped up your spine and wrapped around every last nerve.

“Shit,” Bucky hissed against your lips, pulling back to gasp for air. “I couldn’t resist any more, baby—can’t fuckin’ get enough a’you.”

Desperation clawed at your insides when you realised you were in the damned kitchen of all places, and Starlet would be back at any second. “Shut up and kiss me,” you demanded.

Bucky growled low in his throat and surged forwards, claiming your lips again only to nip at your bottom lip with his teeth, soothing it over with his tongue. Your fingers wound through his loose hair that fell to his neck, the softness a luxury you couldn’t help but need more of — you pulled and revelled in the hitch of breath against your lips, the way his hips bucked forward.

A small moan vibrated your throat, and he grew more insistent, demanding in his fervour. It was only when he pulled back to mouth open kisses down your neck did you hear him groan with need. “Fuckin’ need you now, Doe.”

“Yes, yes,” you panted. “Fuck, please–”

Small, fast footsteps came from the loft above the kitchen and Bucky hung his head, his forehead landing on your collarbone with a heavy sigh. “Fuck, I need you.”

You blinked and shook yourself inwardly. “I– Fuck, yeah, me too.”

Bucky pulled away from your body with a thoughtful frown. “I want you.”

The way your heart lurched into your throat from your chest was almost painful, and you gulped around it. “I– Oh, god.”

“I jus’ wanna get a feel of where your head’s at, yeah?” he said softly. “I need to make sure that you want this as much as I do.”

“That– Yeah, I do, I really, really do–” You tried, furiously working your throat to swallow, though your mouth was dry.

Bucky smiled and squeezed your waist with his hand, and he pecked you on the lips before he pulled away. “Don’t you worry, baby. I want you here with me, and with her.” He nodded towards his approaching daughter, who was occupied with carrying rolls and rolls of paper. “I know she does too.”

The words, while they were whispered against your lips, they came with a promise, one that entailed your whole future.

Starlet’s excited tone pulled you from staring into Bucky’s eyes, and you smiled as she held up some of the rolls of paper for you to take. “Come on, Fawn,” she rushed, giggling. Her small hand grasped yours, and then pulled you along.

Deep, rasped laughter came from behind you, and you looked over your shoulder to see her father watching the two of you with bright eyes; a glint of adoration in them that made the blue of his irises so much deeper.

“I want you,” he mouthed, and he inclined his head to look at you, then he turned into the kitchen to supposedly grab his cup of coffee.

“What’s taking you so long?” Starlet asked, indignant. She stood to your side with her nose scrunched in annoyance — an expression you knew she inherited from her father. “I have these to show you and daddy.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming, sweetheart,” you soothed, squeezing her hand.

She took the assurance and dashed away. You watched her as she guided you towards the couch in the living room, and you heard heavy footsteps behind you — Bucky was following slowly.

“Honey, please don’t pull her arm off,” he teased, and Starlet only huffed. “We need her, remember? Who’s goin’ to let you stay up past your bedtime then, huh?”

You blinked. “That was not my fault–”

Bucky took a sip from his mug, smirking behind the rim. “I know all, I see all—can’t hide shit from me, baby,” he whispered, and he winked.

The narrow-eyed stare you sent him only made him laugh, and somehow, the sound soothed your worries, and you knew it was going to be alright.

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fluff #babb2023 #rookthorne's works

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lucabyte · 2 days

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obligatory ramble about postcanon loop ask

also your art is amazing

Hiiiiiiiii :D thank you :)!!

and thank you for the excuse to post the. just absolute wall of text that i truncated down to form the tags of that post. (i did,,, hit the tag limit. i forgot tumblr had one of those...) so let me just paste that and tidy it up a bit...

I am putting this under a readmore because it's a bit long. but:

This is like. The General Context for all* of my postcanon doodles? (Except AUs obviously) Like this is the base idea I've been drawing them all in. So, feel free to backread with this in mind. I've basically had this 'postcanon' timeline set in my brain since finishing the game...

My general thoughts are that I like the idea of Loop (even if through dubiously ethical means) being able to slowly reintegrate with the party as a whole new person, because they are, in fact, their own person.

It's a muddle of thematic threads im pulling on and "wouldn't it be fucked up if", but. (at its core, it's powered by the fact that like, while narratively isat's theme of 'the only person who can truly take the first step to help you is yourself'. (wrt: loop helping the party help siffrin in act 5) which i LOVE AND IS GREAT NARRATIVELY…. would be super fucked up irl to learn that your friend 'learned as a lesson' while you stood by kinda uselessly. I know i'd be upset about it. but thats mostly background here. doesn't really come up. at least not until loop has to explain who they are and the party realises they had to fall back on literally themselves again for help, but i digress,)

The real core concept is: Occam's razor. It is like, inherently, a buckwild thing to accuse a person of being somehow a clone or copy of your friend. Even if they start vaguely alluding to a backstory it's far more likely they were some other person before all that. (I still think Odile has that theory in the back pocket but she's rational enough to know it's a really long shot without a solid explanation. and i think Loop deep down knows this, and would, if cornered into confessing, turn the situation around to go J'ACCUSE and make HER explain it instead. Ever longer dodging being direct with their emotions...)

And the party are nice! And if someone has changed and wants to keep stuff secret it's kind of not their business? (Though it's hard not to speculate… see: the main joke of the doodles) And they seem important to Siffrin so they just try to accept them abrasive quirks and all. And eventually the question of their prior identity just fades away since, well, they're Loop. Their friend Loop.

but yeah. personal headcanon is that a few months/weeks after picking up and getting aquainted with Nille** (since that was presumably the IMMEDIATE TASK postgame), Loop reappears (either after a literal period of nonexistance, or just spending a few months wandering the french countryside alone being attacked by wild dogs). Since Siffrin has had a while to be therapised by the party they're doing mostly okay, but Loop showing up and still being agitated/aggressive pulls them both into a bit of a backslide behaviourally and puts the party on the back foot again.

Hooowever, I do think that due to no longer being literally stewing in the worst pressure cooker of all time together, the two do mostly actually sort themselves out with productive conversation. (Via a cycle of: genuinely distressing argument -> weeeird lovebombing -> ok we're good -> repeat, that gets less intense over time)

Thus, allowing the party to just. Integrate loop as a new person. They and Siffrin shuffle into different ecological niches (Loop taking over stuff Siffrin is now too squeamish for, etc (see: hunting, mostly)), and while it's not exactly what Loop wanted they generally get that beggars can't be choosers and it's a pretty good deal. And the rest of the party does straight up just like them as a friend, especially when Loop quits trying to actively antagonise them after a few weeks of being around them, since they just can't keep up being mean to people they like forever.

As for how I think the truth eventually drags itself out. This is where I invoke The Isabeau Torment Nexus™. So its gonna get shippy here for a bit hold on.

Which is, I think giving them time before Loop reappears long enough that Siffrin and Iseabeau actually manage to become established, Isabeau has to be the one to nudge the pair of them and go. "Hey. You know we're in Vaugarde right. I'm okay with polyamory if we all communicate." Before Loop and Siffrin actually even acknowledge that whatever the fuck they have going on kinda looks a lot like a relationship of some kind. (or have already been agonising about that via fighting and arguing, depending) (Obviously this comes after Isa "Emotionally intelligent enough to keep a lid on the jealousy" Beau has managed to use that big brain of his to Not just go Scream somewhere on the daily because oh godddd they keep talking like theyre suicide-baiting each other jesus chriiist. is it overstepping his boundaries to bring that up?? god)

This, taking a bunch of the tension out of Loop and Isabeau's relationship (Since I imagine Loop is a. being weird for the obvious reasons and b. feeling kinda guilty about 'getting in the way of' Siffrin and Iseabeau), allows them to actually get close in a normal friend way. (I think an interesting turning point could be Isabeau actually taking Loop's side in an argument vs Siffrin, which would absolutely break Loop's brain. Especially if it's an argument that matters. Like what do you mean he isn't just going to play favourites. What?)

Then Isabeau, just actually open minded and charmed by Loop (and maybe even somewhat at Siffrin's suggestion?) tries to close the final open side on the polyamory triangle here and that's the final straw for Loop on "This lie by omission is too unethical to keep up, this is just actually sick and wrong. I can't do this while he doesn't know who I am." Though. Obviously it probably goes. Very poorly with emotions high like that. And the added element of several months of deceit. Getting dark here for a second but that dagger is going MISSING and so are THEY for a hot minute.

Then yaaay everything works out in the end 👍 yippieee!! all it took was maybe a lot of harrowed recontextualisation of all the weird shit your new friend said and did when it turns out they're your old friend. It's fine.

But yeah. this is basically the context all of my postcanon doodles have existed within? And those exist to give other people something to chew on. So this does too.

I suppose TL;DR: Imagine if sloopis almost fucking happens before isabeau knows who loop is. can you fucking imagine. can you imagine having to navigate that. nightmare.

*Yes this includes the implied cannibalism comic. Uhh. Comes part and parcel with headcanoning that Loop went way off the deep end similar to A5 Sif But Maybe Worse before giving in. Add weepy half-asleep confessions to murder wherever you see fit in your mind palace. 👍👍👍

**Re: Nille footnote. I don't have anywhere to put this besides here! I have some thoughts on Loop and Nille having an odd dynamic. I don't imagine Nille to be super gung-ho on trusting a bunch of adults (even if they are majority around her age) given their implied backstory. It's probably a big shock to the system, especially since Bambouche is a good couple hundred Kilometers up north from Dormont and these guys don't seem to have trains. She would've been unfrozen and without Bonnie for some time....

Which is to say: I think she's suspicious of them. I think she may be looking for excuses to distance herself, keep Bonnie safe. SO.... A new guy showing up? And antagonising the party? What do they know that I don't...? I should find out.

And since... Loop didn't ever know Nille, they have no ammunition or real reason to be cruel. Plus, if they're trying to stay on Bonnie's good side (SINCE... if Bonnie thought Loop was cringe they may as well kill themselves. In their mind.) they SUPER have no reason to antagonise Nille.

Mostly, they might be able to open up to each other easier than they can the rest of the party?

I feel like this resolves with Loop feeling compelled to apologise for what they and Siffrin let happen to Bonnie, though... Hmm... Depends on how you interpret Nille that they'd be glad nobody else had been told about that yet, or furious it had been secret this long. I lean toward the former.

#PHEW THIS IS LONG. i wrote some extra footnotes and tidied it up a bit. but uh. here you go! my personal headcanon baseline for postcanon.#i could probably elaborate more but that would get unwieldy. like i have opinions on loop's dynamics w each party member but. LONG POST...#lucabytetalks #isat #isat spoilers #in stars and time #isat loop #isiloop #sloopis #WONT be tagging everyone thats absurd. loop centric post though with a chunk about nille at the end #isat act 6 spoilers

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aviduringgremlinhours · 2 days

Text

My Muse

~content warning: slightly nsfw~

Mizu x artist!reader

Authors note: I am not a writer so I apologize for any mistakes! Enjoy!

"Somethings' off...I can feel it..." you say as you squint at the canvas before you. Wether its the shape of the head or the length of the torso, you could TELL something was off. "Two years of art school and yet I still can't seem to get body proportions right. Ugh, maybe I should just find a different career path-"

You hear a knock on the studio door "Y/N? You in there? I made us some tea, can I come in?" you hear the voice of your partner, Mizu, behind the door. "Oh! Yes! Come in!" You exclaim. Upon your approval she comes in with two cups of tea and sets them both at the break table nearby. Deciding to take a break, you get up from the frustrating sketch before you to spend some much needed time with Mizu.

"Hows the art going? What are you working on?" She asks curiously. Mizu has always loved your art, and though she was a woman of few words, you could feel her admiration and respect coming off of her as she gazed fondly at the paintings made by your hand.

"I feel like if I try to fix it any longer I'm going to jump off a bridge" you sigh, half joking at this point. "Ouch, that bad?" She raises an eyebrow as her eyes scan the canvas. "It looks a little off but its not bad. Perhaps you should do some model studies. Who knows, maybe seeing the body up close will help you figure out what you're missing." The idea sounds good in theory, but theres a problem with it "Where would I find someone willing to strip down and let me stare at them for hours while I draw them? I don't really have the cash to pay someone for it." You ask her earnestly.

"Well..." she contemplated "I could be your model, if you want." Your eyes widen at the thought, it makes sense, and its not like you haven't seen her naked before, but you feel a blush crawling up your cheeks regardless. "A-are you sure you're comfortable with that?" "Absolutely sure, I'm comfortable with it if you are. We can start after we finish the tea" She says, her ice blue eyes seemingly brightening up with excitement.

A brief moment later, and Mizu stands before you, a robe being the only thing covering her up. "I'm ready. Where should I stand?" She asks you. "Oh, just go sit on the lounge right here, I want to try capturing you in a leasurely pose." You say. "Just lay back with your back proped up on the arm of the lounge, have one knee bent, and your arm resting on the bent knee. Look off to the side as well." she nods and gets into position as you ready your pencil. "Ready?" You ask, "Ready."

You begin sketching out her figure, glancing over at her every now and then for reference. Every curve, every scar, every fold of her body carefully replicated onto your canvas. From her slender yet defined arms to her lean torso and model-eque long legs. "She's so beautiful..." you think to yourself. You sketch more. Her breasts, her gorgeously long dark brown hair, her breathtaking blue eyes-

You notice her glancing at you, flinching away your daydream as you hastily hide your burning red face behind the canvas. You hear a soft chuckle emit from her as she looks away, a warm smile fixed to her face and a light blush forming. The silence in the air that followed was not a suffocating one, but one that carried a sense of quiet intimacy between two lovers. Warm, soft, and inviting. You feel yourself beginning to relax as you continue to sketch the beautiful woman in front of you.

You finish your sketch up and exhale deeply "Its done! It came out so well! Would you like to see?" You ask her excitedly as she rises from the lounge and reaches for her robe. "Hell yeah I would." She replied. As she scanned over the canvas, her eyes widened with awe. "Its...amazing love, is this how you see me?" She asked "Of course!" You tell her "You're the most beautiful and amazing partner in the whole world, you could say you're my muse..." she looks away bashfully, a shy but happy hum coming out as a response. You gently turn her head to face you a plant a loving, soft kiss on her lips, one which she reciprocates in kind. "Thank you Mizu, you've been a great help. I love you." She beams at those 2 magic words "I love you too, Y/N"

#mizu #blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai mizu #bes mizu #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu bes #blue eye samurai netflix #mizu x reader #mizu x you

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 14 hours

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If it’s alright, I have a question about Vil and Epel’s relationship. I understand that the accent changing plot line is just a cultural politeness thing that didn’t carry over outside of Japan, but the other parts of changing Epel’s behavior don’t quite make sense.

Why exactly is Epel being forced to call macarons his favorite food? And act very soft-spoken? I can’t see how these fit in with the politeness aspect of the table manners, no abrasive language, etc. It just doesn’t give a very good impression, especially in combination with the unfortunate implication of giving Epel a Southern accent for the “change your accent” plot point.

Before I get to responding to the questions posed by this ask, allow me to explain for those who may not be familiar with this controversy! This is so we can all go into reading this post from the same starting point.

I've made titles to denote the explanation of background knowledge and to denote responding to the questions actually asked to me! If you're already familiar with the Vil-Epel-accent debacle then feel free to skip the first section!

Disclaimer: I’m speaking on these concepts as I personally understand them. However, I am not a native Japanese speaker so I’d advise that you consult additional resources with a better understanding of the language and culture. Two resources I enjoy are Yuurei and MysteryShopTLs, who have both also addressed Epel’s accent and how it was localized.

The Accent, EN vs JP

It’s well-known that Epel is a character with a heavy accent who has been explicitly told by Vil, his dorm leader, to alter the way he speaks. In EN, Epel speaks with what appears to be a southern (as in, “from the southern United States”) accent. Therefore, when Vil tells him to stop speaking in the accent, it feels as though Vil is shaming him for his southern roots and culture. This has also led to fans (especially of the EN-only sphere) thinking that Vil believes Epel’s accent is “unrefined” and “makes him sound uncouth/uneducated”, which is why Vil tells Epel to cover it up. I have even received asks conveying as much in the past (here is one example).

In the original JP, Epel speaks in a way that does not closely resemble any real-world Japanese dialect but rather a blend of them. If you ask a native Japanese speaker, they would likely tell you that it is difficult to understand what Epel is saying and that it sounds as though he is speaking rudely or too casually. People could genuinely take offense to the accent because it can be mistaken as something else entirely. This is obviously very different than the real-world accent (which many people can still understand and wouldn’t perceive as rude) that Epel was localized to have. The decision to give him a southern accent, then, does not completely carry over its original JP connotations into EN.

What remains the same in both EN and JP is the reason Vil provides for telling Epel to adjust the way he communicates. As he says in EN, “Speak properly" to which Epel immediately assumes the command comes from a place of elitism/classism and Vil thinking Epel's manner of speaking is beneath him. Vil responds with, "Stop misinterpreting my instructions. I have nothing against your home or its dialect. What I object to is your attitude. Being proud of your home is all well and good, but there is a time and a place for that. The way you address your superiors is entirely unacceptable." (Keep in mind that before this, Epel was the one instigating a fight with Vil and subsequently got his ass whooped for disrespecting an upperclassman. As the victor, he declares that Epel must do as he says--that's the "culture" of NRC. The weak obey the strong, so if Epel wants to do whatever he wants, then Vil challenges him to beat Epel in a fight. Until then, the loser must obey the winner. Epel agrees to these conditions.) This may be a little hard for western English speakers to wrap their heads around, but MANY Asian countries, Japan included, run on a hierarchical system which is embedded even into their languages. Japanese, for example, has honorifics to denote the relationship between the speaker and the listener, as well as variations on the same word depending on the context ("boku", "ore", "watashi", "atashi", etc. are all valid ways to refer to oneself, "onii-san", "onii-sama", "aniki", "kyodai", etc. are all ways to refer to a brother, whether blood-related or not). In some cases, it's considered rude to call others by their first name unless you know them well, and even then it's not common to see a first name without an honorific. This is not as strictly adhered to in English, which is perhaps where a cultural disconnect occurs. What Vil is referring to in his instructions to Epel is what is known in the world of linguistics as "code switching", or changing how one communicates to suit the situation. Part of code switching is changing one's "register", or the level of formality you use. So for example, I could use a colloquial/casual register when I speak with my friends, but I may shift to a more polite and formal register when I speak with my professors, a boss, or an older relative. Vil, then, is critiquing Epel for not speaking politely to his seniors (something which is expected in Japanese culture, but not expected among those in similar grade levels in western cultures).

In the Harveston Sledathon event, we get to venture to Epel's hometown and hear how the locals speak. Indeed, we get more instances of people who speak in the same way Epel does. It's the Harveston dialect, which is so distinctive that it basically sounds like a whole different language. (There are also languages like this in real life; consider Mandarin and Cantonese; technically they are both "Chinese" but Mandarin and Cantonese speakers would not be able to comprehend one another even if they use the same written language). However, it's notable that Marja (Epel's grandmother) and the mayor of Harveston are able to code switch flawlessly into a more standardized tongue. They explain that this is a skill they have developed because it helps in communicating with tourists/visitors to the village and for whenever they travel to the nearby city to sell their wares. This reinforces Vil's point that there is a "time and place" for certain ways of speaking, which Epel needs to consider.

Macarons and Soft-Spokeness

Accent thing aside, some English-speaking fans take issue with Vil's stern treatment of Epel, particularly in instances in which Vil seems to be exerting significant control over his underclassman's behaviors. (Japanese-speaking fans largely do not hold the same sentiment.) Examples of this include Vil forcing Epel to state that his favorite food is macarons, as well as making Epel present as soft-spoken even when he's just among his peers. I will now be addressing both of these points. TO BE CLEAR, I am NOT trying to defend Vil but rather I'm just going to speculate about why the circumstances are the way that they are and/or why perceptions of his attitude may differ.

Starting with macarons! It is stated in Epel's official profile and by Epel himself in his Birthday Boy vignettes that his favorite food is yakiniku (Japanese grilled meat). However, macarons are also listed as his favorite food, and this is notable because he's the only character with two foods listed instead of just one. In the aforementioned Birthday Boy vignettes, Epel is quick to qualify his love of meats with, "Well, I do have one thing I like even more. It's, ah, macarons." When asked what he likes about them, he says, "They're... cute. And sweet! And they come in lots of different flavors." His voice here sounds hesitant, so it's not clear whether he's being entirely honest or not. He even admits in a whisper that, "[Macarons] are not very filling, but still." Epel again complains about macarons being good but not very filling when he has some in the City of Flowers/Fleur City. To this, Azul asks, "Why do you look so unimpressed, Epel? I thought macarons were your favorite food. [...] But was my intel mistaken? Would you prefer something with a stronger flavor profile?" Epel insists he is fine, and Azul responds with, "Excellent, then my intel bears out." This creates some confusion over whether Epel actually likes macarons or not. I doubt that the information Azul has on others is inaccurate. Plus, Epel states of his own free will to the player (who is interviewing him) that he also likes macarons. This leads me to believe that while Epel doesn't outright hate macarons, he does like them alright (but still prefers grilled meat more). The only thing he seems to have an issue with is how unsubstantial macarons are as a food item.

Now... why does Vil make him state that macarons are his favorite food instead of grilled meat? It's sort of touched on in Epel's Ceremonial Robes vignettes. In them, Vil chides Epel for his poor table manners and asks him to state his favorite food. Epel responds with grilled meat/barbeque, which earns him a smack from his dorm leader. (Vil actually smacks Epel multiple times in these vignettes as punishment, which ended up being another source of ire in the English-speaking part of the fandom; such a thing is more common in Asia and its media, so it's not seen as too outrageous in Japan.) "Do my ears deceive me?" Vil says. "I could've sworn I heard a word unfit to be spoken in this noble dorm. I will ask you again. As a student of Pomefiore–a dorm founded upon the tenacity of the Fairest Queen–what is your favorite food?" From this dialogue, it can be surmised that Vil's reasoning for drilling the macarons in as Epel's favorite food is because it is something that is more befitting of the regal "image" of the Fairest Queen and the dorm made in her honor. Vil seems to regard grilled meat as an inelegant food which does not suit the Fairest Queen nor Pomefiore.

The second thing the asker brought up is Epel's soft-spokeness. I guess I'm a little confused by this??? Soft-spokeness is a part of being polite; it ties back to volume control (ie "indoor voice" being softer than "outdoor voice"). I also don't recall a specific instance of Vil chastising Epel for NOT being soft-spoken at all times. He allows Epel to be loud sometimes and raises his voice himself. I feel like volume is not something that Vil harps on as much as other things like cursing or speaking politely to the correct authority figures (unless, of course, volume is important to the level of politeness required for the current conversation). I could be wrong on this though, so please let me know if you know of any specific instances of Vil being mad about Epel speaking loudly that I may have missed! What I do find odd is how... consistently (?) Epel tries to keep polite even when Vil is not around to monitor him. When Vil and Epel first met, Vil makes it clear that there is a "time and place" for Epel's accent, and it's not when addressing seniors. So... by the logic, shouldn't Vil be okay with Epel acting more relaxed or rowdy around first years or more casual settings in general? Why does Epel need to maintain the facade of being polite even when not in the presence of his superiors? Why does Epel seem to even act fearful about word of his misbehavior/rudeness getting back to his dorm leader and even make others swear they won't divulge the incidents to Vil?

One theory I'll propose is the entirety of book 5. Vil was insistent then on having Epel in the NRC Tribe. He wanted to weaponize Epel's cuteness, which he believed could compete with his long-time rival, Neige. This probably fed into Vil's demands for Epel to appear and act dainty and innocent, traits which Neige effortlessly possesses. Vil literally even refers to Epel as his "Poison Apple" that will help him defeat Neige. After book 5, Vil seems to have eased up on his rigidity. However, I will caution that this explanation may or may not align well with vignettes and/or event stories, which do not always work in a cohesive timeline with the main story.

Perhaps a more all-encompassing explanation is... this is probably because Vil is just very strict about how his dorm members present themselves at all times, since they are expansions of Pomefiore and of himself as the leader. Both the macarons and Epel's attitude are reflections of the dorm he (a celebrity who is very aware of the public eyes on him + his reputation) is affiliated with, and Vil won't have them poorly represented. He is the dorm leader, so he has the "right" to rule and impose his ideals as he sees fit. It's a similar situation to Riddle forcing the Heartslabyul students to follow silly, nonsensical rules (because they're tradition) or risk a scolding or a beheading. And again, Epel is following along because (as established in book 5), he has agreed to submit to Vil’s orders until he beats Vil in combat.

At the end of the day, I don't think Epel being forced to call macarons his favorite food is a huge deal. Is anything that big lost in claiming you like something that isn't your actual favorite food? It's not like Vil is forcing Epel to claim he likes eating something that would actually harm him (like, if Epel had an almond allergy or something).

What's more dubious is how VIl governs Epel's attitude and temperament at seemingly all times (to the point of eliciting some apprehension from Epel). Given the most generous reading, maybe it's Vil's way of teaching Epel maturity and how to keep his voice down since Epel had zero of it and acted loudly brazen when he first enrolled. It doesn't help Epel if he's quiet and well-mannered in very limited social situations; it has to be "generalized" or expand to other scenarios for Vil's lessons to truly be instilled in him. (Like... what would happen if Vil DIDN'T hold Epel in check? His classmates would not be able to understand Epel's speech, and he might get into trouble by picking fights with others.) This is a life skill that Epel lacks, unlike his grandma and the Harveston mayor, and Vil's teaching it to him via "tough love" (though whether you approve of his methods or not is up to interpretation). Recall that Vil also teaches Epel to embrace femininity as its own strength and to disregard outdated gender norms--this could be considered another "lesson". I doubt that anything Vil imposes is done maliciously, but rather comes from a place of wanting others to be better and to shine their brightest, even if that path is difficult or painful. Epel, as the rebel in this circumstance, of course does not enjoy being told what to do and misbehaves in small ways. There’s a limit on how much he can misbehave though, as it would hurt his pride to be reminded of his failure to one-up Vil. He's like a kid that doesn't want to be caught cussing or acting out by his parent. It can be seen as immaturity and an unwillingness to change or to grow up, but it can also be seen as someone who wants to freely be able to express themselves or to be their "truest" self. Epel is rowdy and headstrong, and it's difficult for him to repress these parts of himself. Given the least generous reading, Vil is oppressing and stifling Epel in many ways that extend beyond what his dorm leader position should reasonably allow him to do. In fact, a popular fan translation for book 5 is "The Beautiful Oppressor", as Vil is frequently shown limiting the liberties of his NRC Tribe members during their training arc, not just Epel's.

Which is the truth here? Why do those in the English side of the fandom decry Vil's actions and side with Epel whereas the Japanese side see little issue with this?

I wager that this predominantly comes down to, again, cultural differences. Many English-speaking fans are based in the west (particularly the USA and Canada, where the EN servers first launched), places which emphasize individuality and self-expression. Of course they would be more likely to take Epel's side, as he's the one trying to be himself and stand out in his own way. Meanwhile collectivism--an ideology which stresses conformity with a group--dominates in the east. They are more likely to see no problems with Vil's actions because, to them, he is acting in the ways he is to "guide" Epel and show him how to best "fit in" with Pomefiore and at NRC. I believe the whole "being soft-spoken" thing also ties back to cultural differences; speaking loudly is something else that can be considered rude in Japan, so it's entirely possible that Vil encouraging Epel to be soft-spoken is another element of politeness that did not translate well to English (as the western world tends to be much louder and more animated in their conversations).

What it boils down to is that the way Vil and Epel's relationship was written did not work well for a western audience, whose values and perspective is VERY different from the original audience TWST had. It appeals far more to a Japanese fanbase than a western one, and has resulted in many misunderstandings or anger about Vil's character because of this.

I'm not sure if I managed to adequately explain everything, but I hope that this at least helps you to see from a different perspective!!

#twst #twisted wonderland #Vil Schoenheit #Epel Felmier #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #harveston sledathon spoilers #Marja Felmier #notes from the writing raven #question #book 5 spoilers #twst en #twisted wonderland en #Neige LeBlanche #Azul Ashengrotto

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dragon-kazansky · 2 days

Text

Bridgerton shade of blue

Benedict Bridgerton x Female Reader

Benedict bumps into you, quite literally, at a ball while trying to escape his mother's attempts to find him a partner. You decide to humour him with a dance, not realising just how entwined you would become with him. It seems the universe will find every excuse to push you and Benedict together, no matter how much you fight it.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Season one

Chapter Five - Diamonds

♡♡♡

The next ball you attended felt like quite the intimate affair. Understandably so.

You attended with your mother, but as soon as the Bridgerton's arrived, you waited for the opportune moment to join them. Benedict and Colin seemed particularly pleased to see you already. You were becoming quite close friends with them.

The Duke approached Daphne and asked her to dance. Anthony was about to intervene, but Lady Danbury, who had approached alongside Simon, spoke up before he could. "I shall need someone else to seek me a glass of ratafia, then. Lord Bridgerton..." She holds up her arm, "Do me the honour?"

You hide your smile at her tactics. It was so clear she was trying to prevent him from interfering further.

Anthony gives in. "Of course, Lady Danbury."

They leave.

You watch as Daphne goes with Simon into the main ballroom. You watch them go. As you enter the ballroom yourself, you watch them join the others in a dance.

They look happy together. They are enjoying themselves.

Could it be the Duke does, in fact, feel something for Miss Bridgerton? It certainly looks that way. You can only imagine what Whistledown will say about this.

Benedict smiles as he watches from beside Anthony.

"They look wonderful together," you say softly.

Anthony clenches his jaw from beside you. As the current dance ends, Anthony takes Benedict by the shoulder and urges him forward. "Go dance with your sister."

You look at them as Benedict asks, "why?"

"Because I asked you to!"

Benedict looks less than pleased but goes anyway, groaning. You watch him approach Daphne.

With Simon now free, Anthony marches off to talk to him. You sigh as you realise you are now alone.

Benedict dances with Daphne only for a short while before she parts with him and enters the next room. The same room Anthony went into with Simon. You find yourself walking that way to see what was happening.

You stand in the door as Anthony hurries past. Violet reaches out for him, but he keeps on moving. You find Daphne looking at Simon. She approaches him to speak with him.

Benedict comes up beside you. "Will you dance with me? My dance with Daphne ended early."

You chuckle and take his hand. "As did her patience, I think. What was that about?"

"I have no idea." He takes you to the dance floor. You both start to dance.

"Your family is quite something."

"That's putting it politely."

"Is Lord Berbrooke a problem?" You ask.

"I'm not sure. Anthony seemed to have it all handled." Benedict shrugs. "He seems to have control of the matter."

"Does he?"

"I think so." Though Benedict didn't sound so convinced.

"I have you any callers yet?" He asks, changing the topic. As much as he loved his family, he only cared to discuss them for so long.

"No..." You confess.

"Not one?" He asks, sounding surprised. "How is that possible?"

"The ton have their eyes on Daphne now. I shall be unlikely able to stand out at all." You tell him.

"I find that hard to believe."

"It is true. I appreciate your concern, but I fear I shall not find a match this year. I shall enjoy the rest of the season as much as I can."

Benedict frowns slightly.

"You need not pity me. I am quite content to wait another year." You assure him, or at least try to.

"Still, wouldn't it be nice to know someone noticed you?"

You keep your mouth shut. You fear him being able to read you too easily. Though it seems your silence was enough of an answer for him.

"You need not feel the need to pretend."

"It's nothing."

Neither of you speaks again. When the dance ends, you bow and part ways from him. Benedict watches you go, sensing you would rather have some time to yourself for now.

♡♡♡

Your mother enters the drawing room where you are reading. She has this morning's issue of Lady Whistledown. You care not for the gossip column.

"It seems Miss Bridgerton is indecisive about the duke."

"Is that so," you hum softly, turning the page in your book.

"She would make a fine duchess, do you not think?"

"Yes, quite."

Your mother looks up at you. You're awfully quiet this morning. "Something the matter?"

"Why should anything be the matter?" You ask.

"No reason... You are just so quiet this morning."

"Forgive me. I didn't get much sleep."

"Are you well?" She asks.

"Well enough."

Your mother comes to sit beside you. She reaches for your hand and pulls it into her lap. "You can speak with me about anything."

You smile and squeezes her hand. "I know."

"A mother knows when her daughter is upset."

"I wouldn't say I'm upset."

"Then what is it?" She asks.

You sigh and put down your book. "I have had no one caller this season. I know I am not diamond, and I know we are not Bridgerton status, but I thought surely one man in all of London would come see me."

"Yes. Well, I thought perhaps that Benedict might."

"Mother."

"I know. I know. You told me yourself. I suppose I am glad you have become friends with them. Though he would make a fine husband."

"I am sure." You smile.

"You will find someone. Perhaps not now, but soon. I am willing to wait with you."

You smile at your mother and lean against her shoulder. She kisses the top of your head gently.

You are thankful you have her.

♡♡♡

The grand picnic was an exciting time. All the ton gathered in the park to enjoy the wonderful weather and promanade. It was a chance to see who was courting who, if at all anyone.

You were in attendance with your mother and a couple of maids. You were sitting under the canopy, fanning yourself gently, not that it was extremely hot today. You scanned the park, looking out for family faces.

Lord and Lady Carlisle were strolling by. You spotted two young boys by the lake, one of which you were certain was the son of Mr Thomas who loved but two houses away from you and your mother.

Your eyes found where the Bridgerton's were stationed. Anthony and Colin appeared to be playing games with their younger siblings. Benedict was seated, watching them. You smile.

The thought of a large family seemed so comforting to you. As an only child, you would never know what it would be like to have the company of siblings.

Perhaps, you think, in your future, you may have many children. You would like your children to have the love and support and chaos of each other.

"You're smiling."

You turn to find your mother looking at you.

"What are you smiling at?" She asks softly.

"Nothing," you lie.

You know she doesn't believe you. You also know you can't hide from her either. "Do you think I can have a large family one day?" You ask.

She smiles. "I do not see why not." Your mother had already spotted the Bridgerton's across the way. She knew they were a large enough family. "One day."

You smile as you turn back to them.

"Why don't you go over? I will be quite alright with my own company for a while."

"Are you certain? I do not mind staying."

She smiles softly. "Go. Enjoy yourself. They are, after all, your friends."

You smile and thank her, rising from your seat to go join them. As you get closer, Benedict and Colin both perk up.

"Hello," you smile.

Anthony turns and smiles, too. "Hello. Come to join us, have you?"

"Is that alright?"

Before Anthony can reply, Benedict speaks up, sitting up in his chair. "Of course. Come, sit with me."

You chuckle and join him under the canopy. You sit in the vacant seat. Violet comes over with a smile. "Good to see you, dear."

"I hope I'm not intruding."

"Nonsense!" She smiles, placing a hand on your shoudler gently.

You watch the children play. Benedict offers you some food from the basket beside him, and you accept. Any sour moods about your prospects has been forgotten.

When Simon approaches on horseback, Daphne is quick to flee from her brother to join him. They stroll away.

"Are you alright?" Benedict takes the opportunity to ask.

"Hm?" You turn to him.

"The other night, you left rather quickly the other night."

"I'm fine. I was just tired. Forgive me." You offer him a smile, but he takes note it doesn't quite light up your face.

"Of course."

You continue to pick at the picnic.

Benedict watches you for a little while, but his attention is torn away when a voice calls out.

"Bridgerton!"

You look up in time to see Berbrooke coming forth with something in his hand. His face looks terrible, as if he took a beating.

"A bring cheerful new, Bridgertons."

Violet and Anthony turn to look at the man.

"I have taken matters in my own hands and sought a special license for my wedding to Miss Bridgerton."

"There is to be no wedding," Daphne states, pleading with him.

You stand, worried for Daphne.

"I told you. The arrangement is cancelled." Anthony recalls.

"Lord Berbrooke, you look in a great deal of pain," Violet says. "Shall we continue this in a more private location?"

"I require no further conversation." He says firmly. "Though perhaps I am finally speaking to the true head of the Bridgerton house. For if it were you, I imagine you would have instructed your sister to take better care than to encourage certain attentions while alone with me on the Dark Walk at Vauxhall. Of course, mere hearsay of such scandal could wreak havoc on even the most influential of families. What would someone like, say, Lady Whistledown do with such unseemly information?"

You stare at the man with shock and disgust. You had no idea lf the details of what has happened, but you know enough to know Daphne would never take part in such behaviour.

"Is that a threat?" Anthony asks.

"It is certainly not. Because in three days, I am to marry. I have the diamond of the season." Berbrooke states. "I have the beey best the ton has to offer. I have a Bridgerton. And I shall save her, as well as your entire family, from the ruin which you could not protect them." He looks at Anthony.

You want so much to make his black eye worse. You don't even realise Benedict holds your arm gently to prevent you from moving.

Simon goes to move past Daphne to do the exact same as you thought. Benedict quickly let's go of you to hold him back.

You're caught off guard by how quickly both men moved.

"I look forward to the union of our great families." Berbrooke grins. His grin sends your stomach turning. "Bridgerton. Hastings."

He leaves.

Anthony is left to look at the special license that had been thrusted upon him.

Daphne looks beyond upset.

Anthony and Violet are quick to see Daphne home. Benedict escorts you back to your mother while Colin sees to his younger siblings.

"Will she be alright?" You ask.

"I'm sure. Though you best leave this to my brother."

"She looked terribly upset."

"As she should be. Lord Berbrooke is a horrid little man." Benedict sighs. "My sister deserves the best."

You smile softly. "I'm rather fond of Daphne. Perhaps I shall pay her a visit soon?"

"I am sure she will be most pleased. For now, give her time."

You nod.

You reuter to your mother who comes to stand with you. She had seen Lord Berbrooke approach.

"Is all well?" She asks.

You let go of Benedict to join her. "It shall be in time, I'm sure."

You turn back to Benedict. "See you soon." He nods and departs.

Your mother loops her arm with yours and walks with you. You tell her little of what happened, but you know she, too, worries about Daphne.

When the eyes of the ton are all on you, there comes great pressure and challenges.

♡♡♡

@callmemana - @lilscast - @imgondeletedis - @benedictbridgertonss - @clownsdiehard - @wxnterwidow333

@sillynilly27 - @autumn-slaves - @ben-has-arrived - @ajdelilah - @aadu2173

@booknerdlife - @tamlinrose - @sarahskywalker-amidala - @cheryyluv - @louschan - @lou-la-lou - @cultish-corner

@hopshusushi - @katherinejess - @nannabug - @afunkyfreshblog - @f0x33 - @dd122004dd

@jupitervenusearthmars - @orchiidflwer - @bespinnn -

#Bridgerton shade of blue #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #female reader #dragon writes

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rougecreator1 · 17 hours

Note

Heyy, can I ask you for a poly!plastics x reader where reader faints (maybe because of the heat or whatever) and the plastics be just the plastics (I mean, I’m Imagine Gretchen freaks out) ? Thank you so much

Heatwave ||

|| Poly!plastics x fem!reader

(i myself am poly)

|| Warnings: swearing, Regina being Regina, Reader fainting/going unconscious, heat exhaustion, hinted at anxiety

|| Summary: It's HOT. Regina is unaffected and makes them go outside for lunch, Reader faints from the heat and her girls (along with Ms. Norbury) take care of her.

Requests open!

Started: April 22nd

Finished: April 22nd

~~~

Today was hot. You were in a simple tank top and shorts and you still felt like you were dying. Being in class was awful; everyone's body heat combined with the heat from outside. Absolutely sucked. Windows were open, but there wasn't much wind so you were sure it was just making things worse.

The bell finally went for lunch and you stood, feeling dizzy for a moment but you shook your head and walked to the cafeteria to meet up with your girlfriends.

When you got there, you noticed that they were also feeling the heat. Gretchen was in a crop top so cropped it may as well have just been a bra and she still looked like she was dying. Regina, somehow, remained unbothered and unsweaty. How she managed that you had no idea. Your guess? She was like Jade West from Victorious and didn't sweat because it was "gross". Karen had her head on the table, arms stretched out in front of her and in Gretchen's direction as they were sitting across from each other. Gretchen gave her a soft look and squeezed her hands.

You smiled a little watching the two and took a seat next to Regina.

"How are you so unbothered?" You asked, curiosity getting the better of you as you studied the blonde. She looked perfect as always. Not sweaty or anything like the rest of you.

"Because it's not a big deal?" Regina raised an eyebrow. She didn't see why everyone was being so dramatic about some heat.

"Come on, we're going out for lunch." Regina got up, all three of you groaned in protest but she shot you all a look that quieted you quickly.

Sharing a glance with Gretchen (who looked ready to cry at the thought of going outside) you both got up and helped Karen up, who really did not want to go out either, and followed after Regina. Practically dragging Karen behind you.

When you got outside, you felt the sun hit your skin almost immediately. It made your head feel dizzy. As you walked down the steps, keeping one arm around Karen while Gretchen held her other side, you stumbled forwards. Gretchen gasped which got Regina's attention and she turned around, catching you before you could stumble to the bottom of the steps. Luckily she hadn't been too far ahead from the three of you so she could react fast. Plus, not being bothered by the heat also helped her reaction time.

"Oh my God! Y/N!" Gretchen was freaking out, it didn't help that she had to watch as your eyes closed.

Regina's eyes widened a little and she forced herself not to (at least outwardly) panic. Internally she was a mess, though. Could you blame her. You just passed out in her arms.

"Gretchen!" Regina snapped, looking at Gretchen who immediately stopped. Her chest rising and falling quickly while her arms remained around Karen, whose eyes were wide as she silently panicked. Feeling frozen in place," Get Ms. Norbury."

Ms. Norbury was the first teacher that came to Regina's mind. Why? She doesn't know. She just seemed like the right choice.

Gretchen pulled Karen along back inside while Regina had you sit down on the steps, sitting with you as she gently laid your body across her lap. Sighing deeply at the sight of you.

Your cheeks were red, hell not just your cheeks. Your whole face was red. Sweat dripped from your hair and you looked a sickly pale. The sight made Regina nervous. She touched the back of her hand to your cheek and noticed just how burning hot you were.

"Shit." Regina muttered under her breath, scanning the area for anything that could help.

She spotted a shady tree, only problem was a bunch of people were chilling under there. She scowled and stood, picking you up and carrying you over her shoulder. She struggled slightly, but managed to find a comfortable position with it and kept her balance as she marched up to the group. Eyes furrowed with an intense gaze.

They immediately noticed Regina and panicked, scrambling off in different directions. Regina smirked and set you down in the grass, leaning your back against the tree.

She looked down at you, arms folded across her chest," Come on, baby..."

As if hearing her, you slowly started to come to. Struggling to open your eyes. When you got them open, you lifted your gaze to Regina.

"There's my pretty girl." Regina whispered, bending down so she was eye level with you as her hand rested to your cheek. You leaned into her touch," You okay, baby?"

"Hot." You mumbled, not having the energy to speak in full sentences.

"Yes, I know you are." Regina couldn't help but tease, you huffed and your cheeks turned an even brighter shade of red than they already were. Regina laughed a little and sat next to you, wishing she had some water or something she could give you.

She took out her phone and texted the group chat all four of you share.

|| Regina: one of you fill a cup of water.

You got the notification, but you didn't have the energy to check. Regina looked back at you and kissed your cheek softly.

"Just rest here, Gretchen and Karen have gone to get Ms. Norbury." Regina informs you.

You give her a small nod in response.

You guys didn't have to wait much longer. A few minutes pass and the doors open, Ms. Norbury walks out and scans the area before her eyes land on you and Regina. She walks over, Gretchen and Karen following behind. Karen holding the cup of water. Gretchen had gotten it, but Karen insisted on being the one to take it to you.

Ms. Norbury bent down to your level as Karen handed you the cup, giving you a smile. You took it gratefully and took a long drink before pouring the rest on your head.

Some of it splashed onto Regina, making the blonde quickly stand away and groan in frustration.

"Heads up next time." She huffed at you, you fought the urge to laugh.

Ms. Norbury sighed and did a once over," How do you feel?"

You turned your head to Ms. Norbury and shrugged a little," Not as bad now that I've had water."

Ms. Norbury nods," Let's bring you inside where it's cooler. You can go to the teacher's lounge, there's a fan there you can cool down with. Come on, up you get."

You started getting up, Gretchen came to your aide and linked her arm with yours. Helping to keep you steady. You were sure you could have managed on your own, but you could tell Gretchen was really worried about you. So you let her help you out and whispered a thank you to her.

Gretchen guided you inside, a still annoyed Regina followed with Karen attempting to dab up some of the water on Regina with the bottom of her shirt. Regina narrowed her eyes at her but didn't make a move to stop her.

Ms. Norbury walked with you and Gretchen, in case something happened she wanted to be close to you so she could react faster.

You'd spend the rest of the day in the teacher's lounge, staying away from heat while your girlfriends took care of you.

You felt better by finale period bell.

#x reader #fem reader #canon x reader #fanfic #wlw fiction #mean girls #mean girls x reader #regina george #regina george x fem!reader #regine george x reader #gretchen x reader #regina x gretchen #karen x gretchen #karen x reader #karen shetty #regina x karen #gretchen wieners

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lebbys-world · 2 days

Text

Reality Check

Todoroki x gn!reader; pro-hero!au, some slightly graphic description of injury/death, angst to comfort, facing the realities of putting yourself in danger everyday

notes: i know this is a comfort blog, but i am a such a sucker for angst + esp in regards to how corrupt the superhuman society of mha is. so no relationship angst here !! just some good 'ol facing reality head-on with the love of your life !!

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

Your throat was searing with a burning pain, lungs overwhelmed as the cool metal of a knife passed across the skin covering your trachea.

The shock hits you instantly, yet the world feels as if it’s suddenly in slow motion.

One second, you were being held up by a villain, beaten and bruised, convincing yourself you’d make it out of there just fine.

The next moment, there was that burning sensation, and the villain holding you up lets go, forcing your weak body to fall helplessly onto the ground.

It hits you the moment your body slammed against the ground.

You realize what happened in that moment, but somehow your brain can't string together the thought fully.

You can barely move.

You can barely speak.

You’re desperate to talk, to say something, but the only thing that comes out of your mouth is choked noises and blood.

Tears start streaming down your face, the overwhelming emotions only continuing to cut off your scarce breaths.

Your vision starts to become blurry, and you can feel your senses starting to numb.

The once booming screams and explosions now sounded so far away that you could barely register them.

You feel someone run over to you, lifting you slightly off the ground, trying to ask you something that you can't quite make out.

A cold hand is placed on your face.

Why is the hand wet?

Oh.

That’s right.

That’s the same hand that must have picked you up.

That hand must be covered in your own blood.

You’re dying, after all.

You wish you could clearly see the face of the person holding you so dearly, or hear the pleading words of reassurance coming out of their mouth.

But everything was such a haze.

Your senses nulled.

All you hoped was that Shoto was still okay.

. . .

You jolted upwards, your breaths staggered, sweat dripping off your brow.

Your eyes took a moment to adjust to the dark room, as the adrenaline continued rushing through your veins.

The visions that had just flooded your head suddenly disappeared, but you could still feel the agony of them weighing down on your chest.

From your sudden movement, you had woken up your husband next to you.

“Hey love, take a deep breath. Everything’s alright.”

He slowly sat up next to you, putting his arm comfortingly on your back as he continued to calm you down.

“Nightmare, hm?”

“...Yeah.” You answered, leaning into his touch.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Mmm… not yet.”

“That’s okay.” He pulls you into his embrace, “we can talk about it later.”

You were used to nightmares stemming from work, but you'd never had one that felt quite this realistic.

Even though you were awake, safe in your home, in your own bed, your husband next to you, you just couldn't shake the sinking feeling the dream had left you with.

As Pro-Heroes, this sort of fate could be your reality someday.

That was something you had to face when you took on the job, but only on nights like these did the severity of it ever really hit you.

That fate could befall you someday.

You could die out there someday.

Or even worse, Shoto could.

At that thought, you held him tighter.

“Can we just stay like this for a little longer?” You asked into his chest.

“For however long you need.”

#the dream was actually based off the death of an old oc #i was looking for inspo and found some from an old snippet #shoto todoroki #shoto todoroki x reader #todoroki x reader #shoto x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #todoroki x y/n #shoto todoroki x y/n #bnha x reader #mha x reader

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janeyseymour · 15 hours

Text

La Cosa Nostra- pt 11

cowritten with @schemmentis

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7. Part 8. Part 9. Part 10.

Summary: Melissa's pissed with recent news, the Feds are back at it, and you go to a place and person to find some comfort.

WC: ~2.05k

At this news, Melissa quickly slips into the seat on the other side of Dom's table. “Are ya crazy? I told you they've already torn this place to shreds, and you want to bring the money in through here?” She hisses as she leans more into the middle of the table. “Listen, losin’ the salon is already bad enough. You know what it did to Y/N when you took her off it.”

“That didn't come from me, Mel. I just had to deliver the message. You know that.”

“I don't care who it came from. You knew, and you did it just the same. Now you have the coglioni to sit here and say we should run it through here. I already ain't gonna forget the slightin’ of my wife, youse know that- the lot of you. You wanna tell me I gotta run this shit through my restaurant? Then tell me. Don't act like this is some proposition, Dominic. Tell me what to do, and I'll handle it. ‘Cause you and I both know how this shit works, but I am tellin’ you,” Melissa points an index finger at the man across from her sternly. “Right here, right now, I am tellin’ you; this fucks up my restaurant and youse all are gonna have a much bigger problem than the fuckin’ Feds, capisce?”

Dominic's face remains neutral, though there is an amused glint to his eyes as his palm shifts along the head of his cane. He nods quickly and respectfully to Melissa. “We want things to go well even more than you do, kid.” He says softly.

Melissa leans back in chair, arms crossing over her chest. She raises an eyebrow, silently urging him to say what he needs to say.

“We'll work out the details on our end. You only have to make sure you're here when the money comes through. Simple as that.” Dom says. He sighs when Melissa still merely stares at him expectantly. “Sí, sí. We're telling you this is how it's gonna work from now on. Clear out a spot in the office in the back. Nobody else needs to know it's anythin’ different than a regular shipment comin’ once in a while. None of it happens if you ain't here. This is big, Lissa. They're trustin’ you.”

“Like they trusted my wife?” Melissa spits out as she pushes herself out of the chair. “Texts only. They call and wake up my girls while they’re sleepin’, I'll take one of my bats to their kneecaps.” She adds on her way past Dom in his seat to storm back toward the kitchen.

You raise a brow as you watch your wife storm into the back and Dominic starts to slowly make his way out. You grab one of the other servers milling about, silently asking them to keep an eye on your girls while you go check on the redhead.

When you get into the back, she’s slamming her fist into the linoleum counter where they prep the food. Her hand is already bruising, and you take her fist gently into your own.

“My love,” you whisper as you hold her hand in yours.

“Let me go,” she hisses.

You shake your head, refuting her request. “You’re hurting yourself. You know I can’t let you do that.”

“I don’t give a shit,” she grumbles as she starts to curl her other hand into a fist. You grab the other one before she can even think about causing damage to that hand.

“Melissa.”

“They’re usin’ the restaurant as their new front,” your wife tells you quietly. “Said that it’s what we have to do, and they trust me… that we’re in the clear because the feds saw how busy we are and that we bring the girls around here, so it has to be safe.”

“I’m not letting you do this,” you tell her. “And I’m not letting them put the girls in danger.”

“We don’t got an option, Y/N. I told Dom I would handle it,” Melissa sighs as she leans against you. “And I will. You just… take care of the girls. No matter what happens.”

“Melissa, don’t talk like that- like you’re gonna die.”

“I’m just being realistic. You did the same when they were using the salon,” your wife says softly. “We both knew that if something happened, I’d have to keep the girls safe. But now, it’s on me, and I know that you’d do the same if something were to happen. We don’t have a choice.”

“Fuck,” you whisper again. “Shit.”

“Get… get the girls out of here, and tell them that I’ll be home late tonight,” your wife runs a hand over her face. “I have to make it work here.”

“No,” you say softly. “I’ll… I’ll get someone to come pick them up so I can help you.”

“Y/N,” Melissa grits out. “Go. I can handle this.”

You give her a look, one that tells her she doesn’t have to do this- that you’ll handle it. You don’t want to have her be the one in danger.

But she just shakes her head and insists you get the girls out of here- just in case Dom did give the two of you up, and he’s setting you up for failure. The girls cannot watch their mother(s) go down.

You cradle her face in your hands, kissing her a few times. “No more punchin’ things, hey? Can't have you bustin’ up those pretty fingers more than you already do.” You whisper. “I'll take care of the girls. You do what you gotta do.” When she nods, just a little, you kiss her one more time before finally turning away.

You gather your girls with a thank you to the server watching them for you.

“Mam! We have to wait for Mommy!” Cat is insisting as you walk with both your girls out the front door.

“Auntie Val needs Mommy's help tonight, sweetheart. So, we're gonna go home and make sure everything is cleaned up and nice for her, okay?” You speak to your girls though you're glancing around the parking lot on the way to your car.

You take note of Dom's car pulling out but don't see any cars with sirens or lights careening into the lot afterward. You carefully buckle your girls into the backseat. When you're shutting the back door after making sure they're both safe, you look around again on the walk around to the drivers side. There's nothing different or out of the ordinary. No sign of agents or officers. Which means Dom has only done exactly as he said he did.

You slip into the driver's seat, throwing your seatbelt on. You swallow as you carefully pull out of the spot and towards home. Dom telling the truth is maybe worse than if he had flipped. They're really putting this on Melissa and Twelve Tables. Part of you despises it. The amount of risk it puts on your wife. You know it intimately. The other part, the part that grew up in all this and doesn't know anything else, that part is proud as hell. It isn't anything to turn your nose up at to be entrusted with the process of mafia money. It speaks volumes. Volumes that equally excite and terrify you.

Danik and Shaw are back at the precinct, contemplating everything that Dominic told them- that you and your wife had nothing to do with the murder of Bobby. He told them that even if you did have something against the man, you could never do anything- you rescue wasps because you don’t have the heart to kill them despite the fact that your wife is always screaming at you to kill the damned demons. They go over the fact that you bring your twins into your restaurant, you take the girls to church with you, you always are on time to get the girls to and from school. If you were a part of the mafia and mob that dealt with things pertaining to ordering hits and murder, you wouldn’t be such dutiful mothers.

But they also know that you never brought the girls into the salon- they’ve only ever seen the two girls with you at the restaurant. And that is a bit suspicious in their eyes. So, they plan to head back to the salon the following day.

When they get there, you aren’t there- which is unusual. You’re almost always there, and they know that. Instead, Tony is out on the floor with the other stylists. But you are nowhere to be seen; your car isn’t even in the lot. And it isn’t in the lot because you’re somewhere else.

You’re sitting in the sanctuary of your church. After dropping the girls off at school and leaving your wife to her restaurant turned mafia front, you go to the one place where you can find some sort of solitude- because even now your home reminds you of everything happening in your world.

There’s no service today, so you find yourself sitting in the back pew by yourself, looking up at the ceiling. You’re speaking silently to whatever God is out there to please spare your family from all of the heartache that you can only imagine is in your inevitable future. Finally, you bow your head, and you begin to weep silently.

You’re shaken out of your thoughts when you feel someone slide into the pew next to you and wrap an arm around your shoulder. Your eyes pop open in surprise, and when you look next to you, Barbara is sitting there.

She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t ask why you’re here and not at the salon or at the restaurant. She doesn’t mention that she knows what the two of you do outside of your legal businesses. No- she sits in complete and utter silence as she holds you gently. And you can’t do anything about it. You can’t explain why you’re here in a puddle of your own tears, not without giving away what she already knows to be true. So you don’t say anything. You just continue to cry out your fears and worries over everything while clinging to the shawl that Barbara has draped over her shoulders. And when you pull away, you let out an ugly, choked out laugh.

“You probably think I’m crazy.”

“Crazy? For coming to the one safe little corner of the earth where you can feel anything and do anything and not be judged for it?” the woman asks you. She shakes her head silently. She takes your hand in her own, and together the two of you pray. You don’t realize that she is praying for the same thing that you are, but she is. The two of you silently pray that you’ll somehow get yourself out of this mess- that your family will be able to return to some sort of normalcy- or better yet turn a new leaf and start a new life where there is no mafia or mob, no illegal businesses that put everyone in harm’s way.

And when you lift your head, hers is still bowed for a few seconds before she lifts it with a quiet, “Thank you, God.” And then, as if nothing happened, she pats your hands gently with her own and goes on her way.

You take a few deep breaths once Barb is gone. Carefully trying to get yourself together. You wipe at your cheeks and eyes, focusing on the distant altar at the pulpit. You sit in the last pew, breathing deep and slow. Staring at the large depiction of Jesus on the cross behind the altar. Slowly, you feel the serenity you were hoping to. You don't know that praying will do anything, actually change anything, but it's at least felt like getting it off your chest. In a way that doesn't jeopardize your family or anyone else. You suddenly understand Barbara's devout faith. You can't say that will ever be you but you get it. You make the sign of the cross over your head and chest as you finally rise from the pew and slowly make your way out of the quiet church.

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