#I’m finally playing unbound again | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nocanonhere · 4 months

Text

Happy Wyll's Week! Day 6/7

-Say Yes (NSFW, finally) Set the night of his proposal, and what happens after. (centered around my Tav, Aiya. Elf-Dragon Sorceress)

“Here?” She huffs, on top of him but still being cautious about lowering onto him.

“Right here,” he answers confidently, then his eyes widen. “Or rather, over there, where I put the blankets.”

She laughs, leans back down to kiss him. “And the pillows. And the candles. And the wine.”

“I wanted us to be comfortable,” he answers in between kisses.

The slide of their lips against each other is drawing something down Wyll’s chest, through his core and lower still.

“Comfortable for what?” she asks innocently, as if her hands hadn’t already started unbuttoning his shirt. As if he isn’t already straining against his pants. As if he hadn’t just told her a moment ago, before they started this tumbling, to get down here so they could start their happily ever after.

She had seemed pleased with his surprise throw, letting him revel in the success for just a moment before locking her thighs around him and flipping them both.

He’s going to get her on her back again, because he has things to do to her that require it. But for now, he is enjoying this view of her on top of him; he is enjoying the tease of her hovering over him instead of sitting.

And he recognizes her goading for what it is. He’s eager to play along. What good is him being long-winded if he couldn’t utilize it where it really counted.

“Would you like me to tell you, or show you?” he asks, stopping their kissing for a moment.

She smirks at him then; its slow, sure, and coupled with the glint in her eyes, predatory.

She leans back in, hovering above his lips before moving to the side of his neck instead.

“Both,” she answers, pressing her lips against his skin. He groans, shifting a bit, hips raising up minutely, searching for the contact he wants there.

“In that order,” she continues, moving her kisses across his throat to the other side. He likes her on top, wants to get her back there later. But as she darts her tongue out and licks the shell of his ear, he curses, moves his own legs around hers, and flips them again.

He’s careful about keeping a hand on the back of her head as he does so. And they still aren’t on the blankets, but they are getting close. He presses himself to her finally, letting her feel just where his intentions lie.

She licks her lips, and it is a gesture he has noticed she always does. When she’s lost in thought, particularly.

It’s not just a quick slip of the appendage over her mouth. It’s a slow, circling trail from her top lip to her bottom lip. And he has always found it distracting, silently chiding himself for thinking too hard about the action. It’s even more disarming now, with that look in her eyes again.

She likes being thrown around a bit.

He notes that for later as he leans down, mimicking her from a moment ago, and moving to the side of her neck. He decides to do worse than her, and lets his tongue make the first contact, followed by his lips.

The sound it brings out of her is a stifled moan, held back by her bottom lip trapped between her teeth. He wants more of that, unbound and louder.

He groans at the knowledge of what he’s about to do; what he has refrained from doing every time they steal away to run their lips over each other.

He moves up, and trails his tongue over the high point of her ear. He had always wondered if they were sensitive, and if they were, how sensitive. But he never asked.

He’ll never have to, now.

He got his wish from just a moment ago. She moans for him, open and needy. He does it again, and he can very well tell that an addiction to her noises is going to form.

He keeps doing it, dipping down to tease the middle of her ear instead of the shell, and she bucks against him.

He switches to the other side, hands clenching the grass around her as she begins to undulate against him.

“First,” he begins, moving to trail light kisses over her neck. “I’m going to lay you out on those blankets.”

She exhales a laugh.

“I’m going to get you out of your clothes, and anything underneath.”

He pulls back to look her in the eyes, bringing their noses together. He grabs one of her hands with his, lacing their fingers.

“I’m going to kiss you, everywhere. Your wrists, up your arms, over your chest. And then down.”

He shifts again, lining the hard ridge of him up with her core.

“And?” she asks.

“I’m going to kiss your beautiful legs, then grab them behind the knee and push them back.”

She moves against him faster, a little frantic, compared to his expectations. He wonders how long it has been for her.

He is going to give this first round his best try. Because it’s been a while for him too, and coupling like this was an infrequent thing as well.

Contrary to their group’s jokes, yes, he had done this before.

“And you’re going to hold them, so I can have some room.”

“Oh,” she says.

“And I am going to spell out the rest right between your legs.”

She exhales sharply. “Wyll, come on.”

He adores her impatience, reveling in how it contrasts to her usual demeanor. She’s not a mess, not yet. But this is already so different from how she is with everyone else. She’s always focused, quiet, and collected.

He doesn’t want any of that tonight, not in this setting.

He gets off her, and they both move over to the blanketed area he set up earlier under the tree.

If she ended up not wanting to go that far tonight, that was fine. He had brought the wine, and a few snacks in a backpack hidden behind the tree.

She decides to start on herself first, unlacing her sandals and flinging them off her feet.

“You too,” she orders, moving her hands to unlace her pants.

“Not yet,” he answers, to both. He grabs her hands and moves them back to her sides. “Allow me.”

He slowly trails his hands up her stomach to her neck. He lets them linger there, lighting grasping the sides of her face.

She is jittery. Maybe he doesn’t need to draw this first one out.

He brings his hands back to her stomach again, but this time it’s to ease her shirt up, revealing skin where he doesn’t normally see it.

He sighs, and she sits up to help him take her shirt off easier.

What’s underneath catches him by surprise.

“Oh,” he says, staring at her chest. “That’s…where did that set come from?”

“Figaro’s,” she answers, smug. Glad to have caught him off guard.

“Noted,” he says, leaning down to kiss her again.

It’s a flattering, sage colored bralette. The material is no mere cotton. Rather, shimmering with what is supposed to resemble snake skin. It looks gorgeous on her skin. He wasn’t aware Figaro’s was making wares such as these. But he knows where to shop in the future for her, if he wants to see more of their work.

He moves down, kissing over her neck, and stopping at the top of her chest, reaching for one of her arms instead and starting there.

“Wyll,” she says. “Don’t tease.”

“So impatient,” he whispers, trailing kisses up her inner arm. “You told me to tell you, then show you.”

“Then can you tell me more?”

He smirks, reaching her inner elbow and planting a kiss there before mirroring his actions on the opposite arm. He kisses up this one slower, keeping his eyes locked on hers.

“I want you quivering on my tongue.”

“Oh my-

“I want you moaning for me.”

She nods, lip drawn back between her teeth, thighs pressed together.

“I want to taste you, especially when you peak.”

“Wyll,” she moans.

“And I want to see it. Because I have to know how you do it.”

“Wyll,” she says more urgently.

He puts her arm down then leans back to finish unfastening her pants.

“Have to know if you go silent or if you scream.”

“Oh hells.”

“If it rushes out of you, drowning me in your essence. Or if it trickles out of you.”

She exhales again, a high pitched whine in her voice.

He has her pants undone, and reaches for her waist to start sliding them down.

“If you’ll let me keep going, even though you just came. And if I can slide a finger inside you and feel where I know you’re going to devastate me the most.”

She moans, long and needy. “Wyll, please. Please.”

He’s done teasing her for now, because he’s messed himself up in the process of trying to mess her up as well. He reaches for his own pants, undoing the laces and giving himself a little more room. He finishes sliding the fabric off her legs, smiling at the matching set of underwear covering her.

She looks so pretty in them. But she’s going to look better with them off.

He hooks a finger under the line of fabric on her hip, and teases.

“Wyll, for the love.”

He laughs at her insistence. Likes that he’s got her bossy here. He hopes his love for her will grant him enough stamina to stroke that tone out of her.

If not the first time, then later on. They really have all night.

“Take that off” he points to her bra, and starts to undo the lacings at her hip.

He undoes both sides, using a hand to grab them off her at the middle and tossing those to the side.

“Fuck,” he says lowly. “No, keep them spread,” he adds on, once he sees her closing her thighs out of sheer reaction.

She whines, doing as he said, and opening her legs.

For now, he’s done teasing. He grabs one of the pillows from the side and plants it under her lower back. He grabs another and asks her to sit up so he can set it under her head.

He grabs her legs and folds them back, and she remembers what he said and grabs the backs of her knees, fully baring her lower half to him.

He places a palm over himself and presses down as he stares at her. He stares at the hair there, getting a little light headed at how shiny she already is.

He looks further, daring to stare at something else he’s been wondering about, but isn’t ready to confess just yet.

He look at her face, sees the slight nervousness there, mixed in with her attraction.

“So beautiful,” he assures her, leaning down to kiss her stomach. “May I kiss you?”

“Please do.”

He kisses above her lower lips first, sighing at the touch of her curls against his mouth. When he goes lower, she jolts hard, already losing her grip on one of her legs.

“You alright, my love?” he looks up to ask.

“Yes,” she says. “You can keep going.”

He nods, maintaining that eye contact as he leans back down, pressing a kiss to her again.

He continues to do it, holding her gaze and watching her chest heave the more intense he goes with it. He slips his tongue out, adding it to his kisses, filling the air around them with the sounds. She is whining gently, but she is keeping her legs supported still.

He wants to make her buck again.

He opens his mouth and latches it onto the nub he was slowly coaxing from between her lips.

She hisses. “Oh. Oh, Wyll.”

He hums into her, closing his eyes for a moment and indulging in her taste. She’s already so aroused, it is strong on his tongue.

He wants to know specifically what she likes. Every body is different, and he wants to learn which actions were going to get her mewling for him the fastest.

So he tries a few things; he continues to suck at her, which causes her to grunt behind her bitten lips. He licks her; long, deep laps from the flat of his tongue. She likes it, and it causes more of her arousal to slip out of her.

He takes one more lap before curling his tongue and flicking it over her gently.

“Fuck,” she yells. “Yes. Yes, like that.”

He continues, alternating with flicking his tongue, sucking her into his mouth, and pulling back to breathe.

He chooses to move the time clock up a bit. He wants to slip a finger into her now. He shifts a bit from where he’s laying, bringing his right hand up to rub over her.

“Is this okay?” he asks, mesmerized by the motion of his own hand over her.

“Yes.”

He brings his hand down, flipping it palm up, and teasing his pointer finger against her opening. He gently eases it in and out, sinking more into her every few strokes. He’s panting, because she feels so silken and wet and-

“I cant wait to be inside you,” he says, continuing to move his finger in and out.

He goes back to her nub, continuing the pattern of flicking and sucking, along with moving his finger in and out of her.

“Can I put another one in?” he leans up to ask. “Huh?”

“Yes,” she whines. “Just…be gentle.”

“Of course, my love,” he whispers, bringing his middle finger up and teasing its entry as well. “I’ll be very kind to her.”

He slides it in along his first finger, and already feels that this is a tight fit for just two of his fingers for now. He gets lightheaded just thinking about pushing his cock in.

“Hmm,” she says. “It’s okay if you’re a little mean to her sometimes.”

He laughs, dark and suggestive. “Is that so? My love likes to be roughed up a bit?”

“More than a bit.”

“You’ll have to teach me how,” he reminds her.

“I will,” she assures, throwing her head back and letting herself get lost to the sensations.

He isn’t sure how long he’s at it, but he switches from staring at her glistening, heaving chest to his own fingers pumping in and out of her. He experiments with the speed, finding that a moderate pace with intermittent flicks of his tongue is what keeps her mewling. It takes him a moment to notice, but his own hips are thrusting into the ground.

She manages to keep her legs balanced while reaching her hands down to grab his horns. And though he had hoped she would, though he had thought about this, and picked this position specifically for that reason, it throws him.

He pulls back and hisses, feeling himself get a bit more untamed, opening his mouth slightly and letting drool slip down onto her.

She says something in praise, but it’s slurred and unintelligible. He thinks it was something in astonishment at his boldness. And he will be smug about that later when he can focus; he’s too lost in her right now to make sense of it.

It has been a while since he’s done this. A long while. But even when things went no further than this, he was always happy to engage in this activity. There was something so thrilling about having someone supplicate to him for something he could provide. Power of the tongue, and all that.

“Move,” she orders.

He takes his mouth off her and looks up. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m…I’m close.”

He grins, looking back at his current obsession, languidly thrusting his fingers in her. “Aiya, I didn’t know you were hard of hearing,” he accuses her.

She starts to curse him, head glued back to her pillow, and he laughs.

“You told me to tell you, and I did. I want to see how you do it.”

“You fucking-

“Are you going to soak me? Did you get shy about flooding my tongue?”

“Wyll,” she cries out. “I just…wanted to warn you.”

He thrusts harder. He might, unfortunately, finish in his trousers due to this. It’s fine. He has time with her tonight. Time he is going to spend stopping the clock.

“And I’ll heed your warning,” he says, before he sucks her once more. “But I’m ready.”

She exhales, and starts panting.

He discovers that when she’s finishing, at least from this, she goes relatively quiet. It’s just her breath, no bass to it. No true use of her vocal cords. Just her heaving chest, dry throat, trembling legs, and seeping cunt.

The tell-tale sign of her climax is the forceful stream that hits his mouth, rushing over his lips and down his chin. Some of it rushing up to his nose.

This is a prepossessing form of torture. He can’t breathe, and he doesn’t care because he is taken by the rush of her covering his face. The uncontrolled rise of her hips to his mouth is enough to melt his mind, and he stays there, letting her thrust against his face and push out that onus that’s been locked in her walls.

He notices he’s been separated from her because she is pushing him back by the horns. He stops resisting when he hears her whines, knowing she needs a break. But his brain-to-mouth grapevine is still telling him to use his tongue, and he latches onto one of her inner thighs and makes out with her there.

She is coming down, whole body trembling. It’s only when she sobs his name that he is broken from his reverie, lifting up to look at her face. And it is better than what he even imagined. Because she didn’t scream, and she wasn’t exactly silent either.

When she comes, she cries.

The tears flowing down her face are in pleasure, but he still swallows and moves over her, coming up to wipe them.

“Aiya,” he breathes.

“Fuck…you,” she responds, no real threat in her voice at all. Only the horrible realization of what he’s done to her; what he can do to her, when given the chance.

He leans down, letting his lips linger above hers before she demands a kiss, and meets her with tongue. Her taste is on him, in him. And he shares it with her freely.

It’s nothing else, for a bit. Nothing but their lips, tongue, and spit; swapping back and forth while she settles. He is bristling, but he can hold out a bit longer for her.

“Soon,” she says, disconnecting her lips and gazing up at him. “I’m going to shove your cock down my throat and keep you there.”

“Hells,”

“But right now, I need you inside me. I need you to stretch me more.”

He thrusts against her without thinking, letting her soak through the seat of his pants. “Are you sure?” he breathes. “I can let you take a moment.”

She sits up, pushing him further back while rising to perch on her elbows.

“The only thing I want to take is you,” she says confidently. “But I would prefer to be on top. It’s easier for me, that way.”

He nods, kissing her deeply once more before pulling away completely so they can switch their positions.

He adjusts the pillow supporting his head the way he needs it for his horns. Since his pants were already unlaced, he starts removing them without her assistance.

He pulls them down, and sighs in annoyance that he didn’t grab his underwear along with it too. Once his pants are off, he reaches for the top of them, but she stops him.

“Allow me,” she says, on her knees between the spread of his legs.

He moves his hands and lets them fall to his sides, fingers already sporadically curling into the blanket underneath them.

He suddenly feels a slap of bashfulness as her hands are pulling his underwear off, because while everyone has seen these horns, they haven’t seen-

“Fucking hells,” she says.

And he knows it’s a compliment, but his face still gets warm.

“You weren’t joking,” she continues.

And he knows he’s talking about the comment he made about himself the night of the Tiefling party. The ridges and prongs in unmentionable places. He is surprised she remembers.

She pulls the garments the rest of the way, sliding her thighs on either side of his waist while looking down at him.

“How are you going to explain this to the others, hmm?” she asks, lowering herself to grind against his pubis. “How are you going to tell them how I died out here?”

He is so swept by the movement of her hips right above the head of his cock, but he burst out in laughter anyhow.

“You are dramatic,” he says, shaking his head.

“And you,” she combats, sliding down further to nudge herself against him, “are going to kill me.”

He moans, low and long because gods above and below she is drenched. She is wetting his cock with herself and he is now fearful that this will last exactly however long it took for him to realize he found her pretty. Which was no time at all. He realized it as soon as they had dispatched that small troupe of goblins outside the grove; noticed it while she was panting and sweaty and somewhat covered in blood.

And it’s not as though he’s had much alone time lately. With their new and temporary sleeping arrangements, he has less privacy than he had before. The luxury of a bed and four walls around him, but no luxury of a tent, perched a certain distance from others.

He hasn’t been indulging himself that much. But he certainly had, once or twice, slipped his hand underneath his bedroll and thought about her while he pleasured himself.

The contented attitude he had about taking her apart with his mouth has evaporated under the weight of her gaze and the thrust of her hips.

She sits up, lifting her hips up with it, and he still moans because he knows what’s coming.

“Let me know,” she says, grabbing him by the base, stroking her fingers around the ridge there, “if you need to stop.”

“Don’t let me finish inside you,” he responds. And it’s not because he doesn’t want it; it’s because it isn’t smart. And because he just knows once she sinks down, all higher thinking for him will cease.

Her smirk at him then is just fiendish, and perhaps he made a mistake, thinking that he had this force of a person bested.

“Is the Blade of Frontiers feeling beside himself?” she asks, letting her head loll back for a moment while she enjoys the heat of his tip teasing her opening.

He exhales, clenching his fists tighter. “I’ve never faced a threat like you.”

She doesn’t smile. In fact, her face falls. It settles into a gaze so serious and all-encompassing that he has to hold his breath.

When she attempts to make him sink into her, it’s only by a bit, and it’s enough to make him groan openly and loudly.

“Is that so?” she asks lowly. She leans over his torso more, keeping her hand where it is on his cock, and continuing to move herself up and down on his tip.

The wet squelch of her already has him undone. He wants to ask her to not talk while she does this, at least not now. Because it will be over embarrassingly quick.

But he can’t say anything right now. He is trying to even his breathing while feeling the best he has in his life, in a setting like this.

She does this for a few more moments, eyes closed and biting her lip while she concentrates. Despite his attention on her earlier, she isn’t quite opening up how both of them want her to.

Power of the tongue, truly. A maxim that extends to all kinds of settings.

He moans and speaks to her. “Let me in.”

Her jaw drops and her eyes widen, and she presses down onto him harder and lets the tip of him stretch her.

They both groan. The feeling is like coming home after a long, arduous day. It feels like he was supposed to know this all along. It feels like he’s supposed to be here.

She moans and moves her hand, letting both of them support her on his damp chest while she slowly moves back and forth, letting him breach her bit by bit.

When she reaches the first ridge, she squeals. She compliments him and sinks lower, more of her arousal covering his cock.

“Aiya,” he breathes, already feeling dangerously close, and she hasn’t even reached the root of him.

She doesn’t respond, just continues to undulate her hips so that more and more of him can fill her. When she sinks to the root, his lidded eyes are still open enough to see a tear slip out of one of hers.

He reaches a shaky hand up to her face.

“Are you alright?”

She shakes her head no, closing her eyes and letting her neck fall back again. “You’re perfect.”

It’s not exactly an answer, but he understands it well when she starts lifting and sinking herself on his member, slowly and steadily.

He keeps his hand there, despite his arm trembling. And the other takes place on her stomach, pressing there while she moves.

“I love you,” she whispers, eyes still closed. “I fucking love you.”

He should warn her now, he thinks. Go ahead and tell her that she maybe, at best, has a few minutes before he erupts. But he doesn’t; there is something more pressing he has to tell her.

“I love you too,” he responds, feeling the joy of the statement wash over him. “Now, show me.”

She makes him eat those words.

Despite his impending loss, he knows that as long as he gets to have her like this, he’ll never stop challenging her. He wants to continue winding her up with his words as much as he can, making her take it out on his tongue and throbbing cock. He wants this woman to end him, over and over and-

“Aiya,” he says, urgently. “I’m-

She answers by leaning back down, causing his hands to move and plant elsewhere instead. They support themselves on her ass as she continues moving on him.

“It’s okay, Wyll,” she whispers, leaning down to kiss one side of his neck. “Do it.”

“I am,” he groans, gripping harder. “But you need to move.”

She continues laving at his neck, moving up to his ear to entice him. “No.”

He loses it then, lifting his legs up at the knees and beginning to thrust into her instead.

“That’s it,” she encourages softly. “Take it.”

He doesn’t register the sounds leaving him that much. He knows they are open and needy and flowing through a staccato beat. But he keeps moving.

“It’s okay,” she continues, licking over his ear. “We’re okay. Magic has all sorts of uses.”

He growls, thrusting into her harder. Trembling with the implications.

“Yeah?” he asks, eyes closing.

“Yes,” she answers. “Inside, Wyll. Let it out inside me.”

He gasps, thrusting once more before feeling his entire body quake as he finishes inside her. His eyes are closed, yet he’s still dizzy. There’s no one out here but them, yet he’s sure he’s too loud. He should pull out still, but after the third rope, he’s locked to her.

Even as he comes down, he fears he’s too loud. But he will excuse it, this time. He hasn’t finished like that in…ever. Not even his first time, with the one he had known longer than Aiya.

She kisses him for a long time, moaning in annoyance when he slips out of her. But he can feel a drop of the mix of them fall back on his member, and knows it won’t be long before he’s ready to fill her again.

“So have you done this a lot, or…” she asks, trailing off to take a sip of her wine instead.

He huffs, caressing a hand over her stomach. “Define a lot?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t know. I’m not sure how to measure this by human lifespan standards. And honestly, it doesn’t need a measurement at all. I suppose what I’m asking is have you done this with more than one person?”

“Yes.”

“And,” she continues, setting her wine goblet back down on the flat stone by her head, “were they all partners of yours?”

He hesitates.

She turns to him then, long hair flowing over her pillow, and stares with something in her eyes. He asked her to get comfortable and take her hair down while he re-arranged the bed set he brought out here so they can rest for a bit.

“I see,” she whispers. “I know about your first one. Nasina, who I would like to meet, by the way.”

His brows show up. “You want to meet her?”

She shrugs. “You are the next Duke of Baldur’s Gate, if you choose. Gortash will cease to exist and your father will step down eventually. I assume all of those who were one your friends will want to come back. Especially your real friends.”

“I feel so stupid,” he begins, “asking you this now. After all this time, but Aiya…how old are you?”

She laughs; cackles. Loud enough to cut the air. “Oh my gods, I thought I had told you already. I’m one-hundred-forty years.”

He lets it sink it for a moment, not able to stop himself from making the very expected joke. “You are old.”

She’s gasping, trying to gather her bearings. “Wyll, I swore I told you.”

He is educated enough to know that is not that far above the age of maturity of Elves. He is unsure about Dragonborns.

“You certainly did not,” he says, bringing his caressing hand up to her face. “But it’s no matter.”

She smiles at him, bare body hidden underneath the sheet. “The last time you did this, when was it?”

“You insist on bringing up the past,” he laughs.

“For a reason.”

He studies her face, only finding intrigue there. He thinks he knows where this is going, but the only way to know is to jump over the edge.

“I was in Plainwater.”

She hums. “Nothing plain about that place. Anyway, go on.”

He swallows, turning to look up at the swaying tree branches above. “They do not use the standard terms of monarchy there, but by all definitions, this person a monarch.”

“I’m already hooked.”

“It was a deluge,” he says, setting the scene. “And it had ruined half their house’s crops, which were the most plentiful in the town. Without those, the support it provided the community was smashed.”

“Ah, so not a monster.”

“No,” he sighs. “Just the forces of nature, but it gave me the opportunity to help their house, and sharpen my diplomacy skills. The town had a meeting regarding their status. Their name was Ainsel, by the way.”

“Go on,” she encouraged.

“Somehow, I was involved in mediation. And somehow, I convinced the prominent townspeople to continue to respect their house as an authority. They were kind, and good. Had I not thought so, I wouldn’t have gone out of my way to defend them.”

He looks at her, and notices her eyes are closed, taking in the story. “I am unsure what I said that turned the tides, no pun intended, but it worked.”

“Congratulations.”

“And Ainsel was so…gentle about suggesting they thank me in a more…intimate way than gold. They still paid me in gold, by the way. But yes. It became physical.”

She opens her eyes then, gold staring back at him.

“Go on.”

“You are terrible,” he says. “What about this is enticing for you?”

“If you don’t want to continue, you don’t have to.”

“I…okay. Well, they insisted on thanking me in the most based way you could think of. And I tried to resist, truly. I didn’t believe doing good was a cause for any compensation like that.”

She turned toward him, supporting herself on her right shoulder. “So, what happened?”

“You want to know the details?” he asked with incredulity in his tone.

“I’ve only been asking.”

“Okay. Well, they cornered me behind their library door and insisted on using their mouth on me.”

“Now we’re getting to it.”

“It was…lovely. I truly was not going around the Coast looking for that kind of entertainment. But that time, I agreed to it.”

“That is so sexy.”

“What about that do you find sexy?” he asks, reaching a hand up to run through her loosened locks.

“I’m a bit too old to deny how gorgeous the image of one pleasing another is” she answers, a serious note in her voice. “You are handsome, and kind, and conscientious. To gift those qualities to another…I don’t know; it’s nice to think of.”

He loves the compliment, even if he has difficulty understanding the appeal of it.

“I gained an appreciation for the art of the tongue, after that.”

“As if you didn’t already have one.”

“Yes, but in an intimate way.”

“Yes, and I just bore witness to that.”

He runs his thumb over her bottom lip. “And what about you? Do you have an admiration for the same?”

“Oh, Wyll,” she answers. “You have no idea. And if you want an idea, I’m glad to show you. Only if you’re ready.”

And he is ready, except he…isn’t.

“Actually,” he says. “I need to…relieve myself first.”

He turns away, expecting her to laugh, but when she doesn’t make a sound, he looks back at her, only finding curiosity in her expression.

“You don’t have to go too far,” she suggests.

He is shocked; speechless.

She sees the look on his face. “Too soon? Another time, perhaps.”

“Please, have mercy,” he says, rolling over to go find a distant bush.

The wine is half empty, but it’s a good thing he packed water to keep them hydrated.

He’s on top of her, kissing her again. It is slower this time, lacking the desperation from earlier. But it still builds heat in his core.

He’s going to let her make good on her earlier comment, about what she wanted to do with her mouth. This time, instead of lying on his back, he props himself up against the tree trunk; a couple pillows supporting his back.

She’s lying down between his legs, already reaching for him. He’s already erect for her, but when she pauses her mouth right over his tip and looks up at him, he hardens even further.

He closes his eyes and tilts his head back a bit, wincing at his sensitivity, then moaning at the soft acceptance of her mouth.

Without thinking, he ends up propping up his legs at the knee, reaching his hands down and placing them on her head. He’s not moving her, but he just wants to feel her move.

She translates the action a different way.

She inhales through her nose and moves further down, taking him to the hilt. He groans and asks her to keep going, keep moving. But she doesn’t.

He looks down at her, and sees her looking up at him expectantly. He tests the waters by rolling his hips up first, languidly. She moans around him, and it causes his grip to tighten in her hair.

The next few moments are bliss for him. He’s gently thrusting his hips up, reveling in the soft sounds of him pressing against the back of her throat. She’s focused on being an opening, so she’s not focused on the mess that drools out of her mouth and onto his pelvis.

He pulls her off, keeping one hand buried in her hair while the other fists his cock.

“Will you, shit…Can I?”

She smiles at him, and that’s all the answer that he needs before he is releasing on her waiting tongue, holding her in place so she can take all of it.

He’s not as loud this time, groaning tenderly while he comes down. He welcomes her body coming up to press against his; enjoys the taste of himself in her mouth.

“You’re so handsome,” she whispers, kissing his cheek. “So beautiful.”

He gets her to lay back down and finds his face between her thighs again. She is less sensitive this time, as in she’s not shaking at every movement of his tongue, but she is responsive.

He wants to be on top his time, and he makes sure that’s okay before moving back up her body. He grabs one of her hands and laces their fingers, placing them by her head. His free hand is what he uses to tease himself and her; rubbing his cock over her.

“Get inside me,” she says, moving her hips up.

He presses against her opening, and slips inside, bit by bit. She hasn’t been opposed to the size of him at all, and she seems to adore the features this form has given him. But he is still cautious about moving in and out of her until he feels her open up and accept the rest.

He raises his other hand and links their fingers there too, leaning down to kiss her and thrust lazily into her.

It’s quieter this time. It’s just them, the wind, their sounds of love, and the slide of the sheets against the grass. Neither of them are thinking about anything outside of this moment; not what came before, and not the near future. He’s just a person loving another person in an archaic way.

He moves faster when he hears her gasping; he’s determined to get her to finish around him in the way he didn’t have stamina for earlier. It requires a steady, sure thrusting of his hips, and one of his hands slipping between them.

This thumb is pressed to her nub, and his fingers are splayed against her pelvis and the bottom of her belly. He presses down and she whines.

“Keep going, just like that,” she begs.

He does. The rock of his hips is only difficult to hold because he wants to move harder. But he is barely letting the fronts of his thighs kiss the back of hers. This is less about force and more about aim.

Her eyes are watery again, and he sighs, tells her he loves how she looks when she cries for him like that. When she asks for more, that’s when he thrusts harder, adding more sound to the air.

“Wyll,” she says, voice cracking. “I…

“It’s okay, love,” he says, biting his lip momentarily. “I have you.”

She locks eyes with him, letting the shine of them coupled with her whimpers tell him her end is near. He feels a prick behind his eyes as well, although it’s not from his oncoming climax.

He just loves her, and he loves this moment. He would never forget it for the rest of his life. And he hopes she understands that he meant what he said earlier before they started this physical dance. He wants her forever.

“Aiya,” he breathes, wavering. “I love you.”

She whines, whole body tensing. “I love you too, Wyll….Wyll, can I-

“Yes, love.”

Her face scrunches, and her high pitched keen falls to a low, broken moan as she releases around him. He thinks he might enjoy this feeling more than tasting her while she does this. He couldn’t pull out if he wanted to.

The fitful pulse of her orgasm does bring him closer than he thought he was. When she loosens, when her shaking stops, he lets force overtake aim, just for a few more thrusts, before pulling out and releasing her on stomach.

They are panting, covered in sweat, and so, so in love.

“Is there something you really enjoy doing in bed that we haven’t done yet?”

She hums, content in her position of lying on his bare chest. “Quite a few things, actually. But I did not assume we were completing the entire itinerary tonight.”

He smiles and keeps his eyes closed, running a hand over her back. “To narrow it down, then. Is there a position you prefer that we haven’t already done?”

“You’re asking me what my favorite position is.”

“Well, yes.”

She sits up, gazing at his relaxed expression. He cracks his eyes open slowly when he feels her fingertip trailing over his nose.

“We haven’t done it, yet,” she answers. “I’m tempted to let you guess.”

And Wyll knows there are so many angles they can do this from. So many ways they just can’t get done before the sun splits the horizon.

So he’d rather her just tell him, or show him, what angle truly ignites her so he can learn it, thoroughly.

He moves her searching fingertips, and kisses them.

They make out for a bit, more weight in their kisses this time. She seems primed and ready to go with the knowledge that he will be taking her in the way she favors.

She moves, asks him to move, and takes the space where he was, with her back toward him.

“Is that so?” he groans, one of his hands already wrapped around himself and stroking weakly. She is on her hands and knees, and she answers him.

“No,” she says, her tone leading elsewhere. Then, her body sinks onto the ground, front pressed against sheets. “This is so.”

He feels sweat prick the back of his neck. He may not be able to see her face, but he will still be close to her this way.

He leans over her, letting his length thrust between her cheeks and kissing the back of her neck when she sighs.

“Are you ready?” he asks. He prays she is.

“Fuck me,” she answers, pushing her hips up.

The angle allows him to slowly thrust into her, moving in and out until he gets the signal to start pounding her back to the ground.

This round feels a bit more primal. She’s loud and encouraging, and he’s propped up on his hands while dripping sweat onto her back.

His own sounds are high pitched and breathy. He does what she asks, and moves against her harder, disturbing the air around them.

It’s still the dead of night, but he has a brief wonder of what would happen if someone walked by. They are secluded, he made sure of that. But what if…what if-

He’s sure her cries would attract any potential passerby. They would clearly know what was happening just by the sound of it, but would they follow her siren call?

She makes him think of things that he hadn’t seriously considered, previously. He doesn’t want anyone else to see her like this, per se. But he doesn’t not want them to see him pleasing her like this.

It’s strange, yet the unfamiliarity of it entices him to fuck her harder, loving the whip-crack of her sounds.

“This is it?” he asks. And obviously. Obviously. She put them in this position. But questioning her seems to turn her on, in this environment. She mewls an affirmative, and turns her head to kiss one of his inner arms, right by this wrist.

“Together this time,” she whispers against his skin, resuming her peppering affections.

The soft press of her lips against his arm while he is doing nothing short of knocking her into her next orgasm makes him growl. And she doesn’t seem to want to raise her hips, so he cant really get a hand underneath her. But the wet sounds from between her legs makes him wonder if she’s already as close as he is. He can’t really tell this time around, because she’s been pulsing nonstop.

He learns down, licking one of her ear tips. “Are you close?”

She groans. “Yes. Yes, Wyll. Can you…just a little bit more?”

“As long as you need,” he lies. He doesn’t know why he says it, when everything about him right now is telling of his approaching climax. But something about the statement seems to kick her into high gear, and she nearly yells.

“Oh. I’m…oh. Wyll, love. Wyll!”

“Now?” he asks, burying his face in the side of her neck.

“Yes,” she hisses.

“Yeah?”

“Yes!”

“Inside you?”

“Please.”

“Deep?”

“Wyll-

“Say it.”

She’s already crying, and nearly out of breath. “Come inside me, please. Please, love. You feel so good; I want it.”

“Yeah? I make you feel good?”

She can’t answer him anymore. Any remaining breath she has is expended on her panting and moaning. And that’s answer enough for him.

It’s not quite synchronous. She is wailing, and she was already clenching, so the staple sign of it is the forceful rush flowing out of her and soaking him.

“Holy-

He can’t finish that statement. He grunts hard, keeping his hips locked to hers, filling her over and over. There’s nothing holy happening here, not in a pure way. Perhaps in a divine way.

Exhaustion finally seeps in. He slides out of her to flop on his back, cringing when his horns remind him they are there. But he reaches for her and pulls her in, letting her pant into his neck.

“I love you,” she whispers. “I love you so much. I-

He grabs the back of her neck and gently moves her away so he can lean up and kiss her. “I love you, too. My time-stopper.”

The sun is barely up by the time they return to the Elfsong. They are quiet as they enter, hoping no one was already awake.

He swats her ass right as they get to the hall door, making her gasp and laugh before to leans back to kiss him over her shoulder.

She opens the door as quietly as she can, steps silent as they creep in. No sunlight has breached the room yet, but they do both stare at the companion sitting by the unlit fireplace.

Jaheira is sitting in a chair, book in hand. Yenna and Grub are a few feet away from her, still asleep.

She gives them a knowing look, smirking and whispering into the air. “Really, you two? All night?”

Aiya shakes her head and tries not to laugh. Wyll smiles and places a finger over his lips, warning her not to wake the others.

It is very much back to business once the sun is present and everyone is awake, but Karlach cannot read a room, and asks what time they got back in last night.

“Last night?” Astarion responds. “They crept in with the sunrays this morning.”

A few of their companions praise them for finally breaking the mold. Aiya is so clearly embarrassed, and Wyll pities her. But they are not too cruel, and he doesn’t care too much.

He loves her. And he wants everyone to know it.

#wyll'sweek #wyll ravengard #bg3 wyll #wyll x tav #wyll x reader #baldur's gate 3 #wyll #my headcanon is that wyll is NOT a virgin #he's just selective #because his heart takes priority over his dick #i prioritized his dick this time tho #Wyll'sWeek

48 notes · View notes

lokifan2 · 2 months

Text

Tickled Green

Plot: St. Patrick’s Day shenanigans (tickles) with you and Loki. Fluff.

Swearing: None

Rating: G, SFW

Female reader and Loki

It was March and that meant the partaking of St. Patrick’s Day in many places. It was a holiday like any other than came and went, but on this occasion, instead of drinking until you puked, there was another “tradition” (even though it happened daily) that you loved. You see, St. Patrick’s Day tradition stated that you will be pinched if you aren’t wearing green on said day, but you and your boyfriend Loki were different. He, of course, wore green every single day. Not that you minded. Green WAS his color. But you would sometimes be so wrapped up in life that you’d usually forget to wear green. So, instead of pinching you(Loki couldn’t bear hurting his sweet dove), Loki found out your one true weakness (you were extremely ticklish) on that holiday and from then on, that was your tradition.

Well, maybe you “forgot “ so Loki would exact ticklish revenge on you. Everything in your shared apartment was green and although it may have been a bit much, you loved it just the same as he. You wanted him to feel comfortable always so you agreed to this change. This also so happened to be your bargaining chip every St. Patrick’s Day, as long as you were in the apartment and this year was no different. “Loki. I am wearing green,” you said as you motioned to the apartment. “ You think you’re so clever, darling,” he said with a semi evil smirk. “I know what you’re doing and I will not budge. I will get you for not wearing green on your person. As is the tradition.”

At. Patrick’s Day fell on the weekend this year, so you, nor Loki, nor the Avengers were working today. Unlike the rest of the team, who spent the day at parades and bars, you and Loki decided to take a more relaxed approach to the holiday. Staying at home and relaxing. However, it wouldn’t be so relaxing when he finally got his hands on you.

From the moment you two woke up, Loki was non-stop teasing you. “My darling, you know what happens when you aren’t wearing green on this day. Don’t you?” You giggled as he lay on top of you in the bed with your arms around his neck. “ No. Could you remind me one more time…” you both smiled as you kissed and you felt his hands creep down to your sides.

“ Uhuhuh, Loki. What’re you doing? Hehehe,” you said playfully. “I’m giving you your punishment for not wearing green today. If that’s alright with you, darling.” You smiled and kissed him again. “Oh yes. I guess I deserve it, huh? But, uh, I’m not afraid of you I hope you know.” “You should be. As you know from years past what I’m going to do now.” Loki then wiggled his fingers along your sides making you giggle. “Ah. There’s that beautiful sound”. You tried to grab his wrists but he was already on to you, as he grabbed yours instead. “Now, my pet. I am going to make you laugh yourself mad!” This always excited you when he began in this way.

Within seconds, your arms were raised and a green flash of light moved around your wrists, binding them to the bed. “Is that why you refuse to wear green on this holiday with me every year? So you can be punished with tickles? I know you like it and I know the exact spot that makes you scream. And it’s riiiiiigggghhhttttt…here!” You flinched as he grabbed the sides of your belly lightly as he moved his fingers ever so lightly across your goose bumped skin. “Nahahahooo!” you yelped out with hard laughter. “Yehehehes!” he replied evilly. “You wanted this, darling! Just remember that!” he boomed as he continued to break your resolve by then playing your ribs like a piano. “My, my! Who knew my sweet darling was so…sensitive.” You laughed heartily again and half screamed, “ stop teasing mehehehe! I yield! I yield!” Loki then gave you a sincere look and unbound your wrists. “ Well, I hope you learned your lesson this time, my love. Because I will do this as long as it takes until you learn what you’re supposed to wear on St. Patrick’s Day. You don’t have to go this far for tickles, as you know. You just need to ask.” “I know” you replied as you both sat up and hugged each other. The rest of the day, you sat watching the parade on t.v. and held each other tight.

#loki tickle #loki odinson #loki tickles #loki laufeyson #loki #tickledgreen

6 notes · View notes

delicioussshame · 4 months

Text

This is my tumblr New Year gift : some porn from that AU where Bingmei and Bingge are canonical twins, and while Bingge gathered his harem, he occasionally has a taste of his brother's husband.

Luo Bingge still thinks surrendering his twin brother to Shizun might be the worst choice he has ever made, if only because Shen Qingqiu deserves better. If anyone would benefit getting laid properly regularly, it would be him. Alas, Shen Qingqiu is now bonded by marriage to Luo Bingmei and is thus doomed to an existence of vanilla sex.

(Some would argue that a single mediocre lover always available is preferable to a very skilled lover you spend a night with maybe once a year, but those people haven’t slept with Luo Bingge. They would change their mind if they had.

Also, Shen Qingqiu isn’t just anyone. If he were his, Luo Bingge would not neglect him.)

Luckily for them all, Luo Bingge sometimes manages to convince his brother that a change of pace keeps life interesting. Surely Luo Bingmei can appreciate Shen Qingqiu being the one to cry for once? He’s so pretty like that, with teary eyes full of desperation.

“It has to be enough!”

Luo Bingge takes a second look. If Bingge hadn’t gagged him, Shen Qingqiu would certainly be begging for mercy, so there’s that in Bingmei’s favor, but Bingge hasn’t tired of the sight in front of him. Shen Qingqiu can wait a little longer.

He trails a finger along Shen Qingqiu’s length, a nail gently rubbing the slit. “I’m not sure.”

Shen Qingqiu trashes under his touch. The tear tracks and the muffled pleas make for a lovely spectacle.

“Brother!”

Luo Bingge sighs. Really, no patience. Fine goods like their shizun are wasted on him. “Fine. I’ll ask Shizun then.” He removes the gag to allow for a response. “Is Shizun ready for more?”

Shen Qingqiu’s voice is broken, shaken by sobs and tremors. “Please.”

He shrugs and turns to his brother. “Shizun seems to agree with you.” He returns his attention to the one who deserves it. “What do you want?”

“Anything.”

Luo Bingge smirks. “How generous.” The possibilities are endless, but he can’t be too harsh on his brother’s husband. Bingmei won’t allow It. Worse, he might refuse to let him visit again, and wouldn’t that be a shame?

He pushes the toy vibrating inside of Shen Qingqiu deeper harshly to tear a scream out of him, now that he can finally hear him properly. “Shall I leave you with this then? I’m sure that once you’re free, you could come from it.” He’s so close, no matter what Bingge does to him, he’ll come as soon as he unties the rope keeping him from his orgasm. Bingmei would never let him do it, but the idea of spanking Shen Qingqiu raw and still make him come, pain and pleasure so intertwined his shizun can’t separate one from the other, is very tempting.

He pinches his shizun’s nipples as he pretends to ponder his options, just to hear Shen Qingqiu beg for a little longer.

He will be kind, or as kind as he ever gets. “Shizun was good, taking all that he was given without complaint. He earned himself what he heeds, a real cock. Toys like this aren’t enough for him.” He pulls it out, surely leaving his shizun feeling so, so empty. “I trust that when I unbound Shizun, he will know what to do?” Because Bingmei or not, he will be punished if he goes for his own cock.

Shen Qingqiu nods furiously, too confused to even consider telling Bingge no.

Luo Bingge takes his time with the immortal binding cable, playing with the knots until Shen Qingqiu is trembling with need, pleading for him to hurry.

As soon as his last limb has been freed, Shen Qingqiu settles right where he should be and rides him with abandon, seeking the orgasm he hasn’t been allowed yet.

Luo Bingge wishes he could hold Shen Qingqiu’s wrists behind his back to make sure he can do absolutely nothing but taking his cock, but his shizun needs to be able to support himself. A pity.

The spectacle he makes is still wonderful. Luo Bingge once again curses his generous heart, who gave his younger brother this man instead of letting Bingge adding him to his harem. He would have lacked for nothing, Luo Bingge himself least of all.

At least Bingmei likes looking. He might as well not be here right now, for all the presence he has. Luo Bingge isn’t sure Shen Qingqiu remembers he’s in the room.

He’s not going to remind his shizun, that’s for sure. Shen Qingqiu shouldn’t think about anything but what he is doing right now.

Luo Bingge lets his shizun work, refusing to give him any stimulation other than what he can get by impaling himself. He remains motionless, taking in his shizun growing even more desperate in his desire to convince his captor that he deserves release, in all significations of the word.

Shen Qingqiu’s voice breaks, sore from crying. He’s about to crumble.

He’s probably earned his reward by now.

As predicted, Shen Qingqiu breaks as soon as Luo Bingge removes the tie.

Luo Binghe holds him until the world starts making sense for him again. It takes a while.

“Shizun did so well. After all this waiting, surely a round wasn’t enough? I’m sure my brother will be more than eager to help you with that.”

He’s not sure which of the two is more shocked by the proposition.

He’s also unsure of which of them is most willing to go through with it.

He’ll look forward to finding out.

#The Scum Villain's Self Serving System #Scum Villain #OriginalLBH/SY

12 notes · View notes

celestiall0tus · 7 months

Text

All That Remained - Unbound - Velze

Beginning || Previous || Next

Shock washed over Felix and Marinette as they transformed. Their steps faltered and they crashed into each other. They sent the other barreling through the window into the yard. Voices yelled after them, but words were lost to the high-pitched ringing.

Marinette groaned and rolled over. She looked through blurry eyes at the world around her. She eyed Felix in a dashing black and gold princely ensemble with tatters in his tailcoat and scuffs on his boots. He fought to push himself up but fell back down. She mirrored him as she attempted to sit up but fell.

Marinette huffed and tried again. Her lethargic body didn’t move, but she rose from the ground. She threw her head around, trying to see what helped her up. She gasped at the white wings with vibrant prismatic shimmers that fluttered behind her. Her eyes widened in awe. She couldn’t fly before without powering up. She grinned and did a flip, then another.

Marinette giggled as she did a few more flips when the world sharpened and came back into focus. The ringing dulled and died away, allowing her to hear the world again. Her breath stolen at the bizarre clarity she witnessed.

“Marinette! Are you ok?” Adrien called.

“Y-yeah! It’s just… it was a shock. Be careful when you transform, honey!”

Adrien blushed and smiled at the pet name. Marinette smiled when the faintest rustle of grass stole her attention. She turned as Felix took off.

“Gotta go! I’ll meet you all at Liberty!” Marinette called.

Marinette took off after Felix. Her breath stolen again at the speed she traveled at. She giggled as she easily passed Felix and left him in the dust. She neared Liberty, then decided to backtrack. She found Felix and flew circles around him, toying with him. He ignored her at first, then indulged her and attempted to catch her. They played until he snagged her foot and brought her down. They landed on a building near Liberty. The pair laughed and rested.

“This is… different from before,” Felix admitted.

“It really is. It’s rather jarring, don’t you think?” Marinette asked.

“Maybe? I admittedly didn’t have Duusu long before Uncle came after me.”

“What happened that day?”

Felix sighed. “Uncle showed up to pay a visit. We were weary of his motives, as we should have been. He got his hands on the peacock again. Once he did, he… he snapped me out of existence before Mom’s eyes.”

Marinette fell silent. Felix wasn’t joking when he said he and Adrien were sentimonsters. She shivered as she remembered the senti-Ladybug that Mayura had created. It was heart breaking to see her go, even if they only knew her for a short time. She couldn’t imagine how Amelie must have felt seeing such a horrific sight.

“I’m sorry that happened, Felix,” Marinette managed.

“I am too. I was careless. I had assumed Uncle would never come after me, but I was wrong to think that. Thankfully I’ll never have to worry about that again,” Felix said.

“Because you… and Adrien, are real, right? People and not sentimonsters.”

“That’s the way Velze made it sound. That we are free, not bound by the rules we were before. To so easily be compelled and carry out the stupidest of orders. To not be so easily controlled by horrible people. To finally be free.”

Marinette considered Felix’s words as she thought of Adrien. She reflected on all the times Gabriel had easily bossed him around all because of a ring. Or perhaps a pair. She had witnessed Velze obtaining two rings. Was it both that contained the amok? Did that mean Nathalie had been giving Adrien orders as well as Gabriel? Was it because of Nathalie that Adrien pursued her? Gabriel went out of his way to try and drive her away. Did that mean Adrien only acted as he was told? Were there any genuine feelings for her?

“They’ve arrived,” Felix announced.

Marinette looked down at the streets. Nathalie got out of the car with Amelie, Emilie, and Adrien following.

“Felix, do you think Adrien really loves me? Or was he just, I don’t know, ordered to?”

“Why would you ask?”

“Because Nathalie had a ring. Gabriel hated me, and yet Adrien still pursued a relationship with me. So, do you think, maybe?”

“No offense, but I’m surprised you came to such a conclusion. You don’t seem like the type to think things all the way through.”

Marinette gave Felix the side eye, then looked away. He wasn’t wrong. She had always rushed into things headfirst, doing what felt right at the time. Everything luckily worked out, but she saw her recklessness with a painful new clarity. What was this new clarity anyway? What caused these painful realizations? Questions she already had the answer to.

Marinette looked down at herself. No longer would she have the red ladybug suit. Now she was wrapped in a white flight suit with long black gloves and boots. Prismatic lines ran along her suit that mirrored Velze’s real form she witnessed. She touched her pigtails, feeling they were curled and flared out. It was Gimmi. She saw her reality for what it was because of Gimmi. It had to be, right? What other explanation was there?

“Marinette?” Felix asked.

“Huh? Oh. Sorry. I just… got lost in thought. C’mon, let’s meet up with the others.”

12 notes · View notes

pokemonunbound · 5 months

Text

POKEMON UNBOUND DOWNLOAD

Download >> https://pokemonunbound.net/pokemon-unbound-download/

Introduction

Hello, my name is Skeli and this is my only ROM hack. I started ROM hacking seriously in 2016 and have since written various ASM routines, created the Dynamic Pokemon Expansion for FireRed, and developed the Complete FireRed Upgrade together with ghoulslash. After a long time, I’m proud to announce that Pokemon Unbound is finally finished. There are now two fully functional versions:

The first is the main game, a story-driven game with complex puzzles that test the limits of your patience and endurance. Once you’ve completed the main campaign, there’s also a significant amount of post-game content to enjoy in the coming weeks.

The second version, called the Battle Frontier Demo, showcases Unbound’s combat engine by providing full access to the Battle Frontier. This version was created in the format of a mobile game, i.e. H. daily rewards, monthly payouts and unlimited playtime. If you enjoy fighting, you’ll find plenty to do with over 100 different possible fighting combinations. For a fair combat experience, I recommend choosing this version over the main game’s Insane difficulty – a difficulty designed for unfair challenges.

With that in mind: Have fun with Pokemon Unbound Download!

Story

Welcome to Borrius, a region rich with history. Centuries ago, the Borrian people were enveloped in a great war with a foreign land. When all seemed lost, the Borrian king summoned a powerful force to help turn the tide of battle. Unfortunately, the war ended in defeat when the king of the foreign land unleashed a devastating weapon. Disgruntled, the Borrian army returned home.

The people, now enraged against the Borrian king, attempted a coup by manipulating the dark force summoned during the war. The Borrian king was able to seal away its power, however, and the coup was thwarted.

Many years later, an organization known simply as the “Shadows” seems bent on releasing the dark force once again. Are they after the destruction of the Borrius region, or is there something else at play? It’s up to you to stand in their way!

Features

A Powerful Engine: Pushing the Complete FireRed Upgrade to its maximum potential, Pokemon Unbound contains a custom battle engine on par with Gen 8, as well as many quality of life features that improve the gameplay experience just waiting to be found. Enjoy catching all of your favourite Pokemon, from Gen 1 up to Gen 7, while using all of your favourite moves and abilities from each of these generations!

QOL Galore: Pokemon Unbound is also chock full of quality-of-life features to enjoy, such as Unlimited Bag Space, Auto-Run, the DexNav, Daily Raids and much more!

A New HM System: Have access to all of your favourite HMs without the hassle of carrying HM slaves! As long as your Pokemon can learn an HM, they will be able to use it in the overworld, and once you purchase the brand new key item – the ADM in the post-game, enjoy battling with all six Pokemon from your favourite team regardless of the HMs they can learn!

Updated Graphics: Sporting Gen 4 graphics in the overworld and Gen 5-esqe interfaces, in addition to a dynamic day and night system, Pokemon Unbound has a brand new, yet familiar feel! You’re not in Kanto anymore!

Difficulty Modes: Choose from up to four different difficulty modes! Ranging from Easy to Insane, you can either sit back and relax or get your teeth kicked in by a completely brand new AI system!

A Unique Mission System: Pokemon Unbound contains over 80 unique Missions to complete! Mission progress can be tracked using the new Mission Log, in addition to extra details, such as which items have been found in collectathons!

Character Customization: Choose from up to 300 different combinations of skin tones, hair colours, and outfit colours! Unleash your fashion sense!

Daily Events: There are plenty of events all over Borrius, many of which can be experienced daily, and some can only be found at certain points in the day! Play throughout the day to experience them all!

Exciting Mini-Games: Play exciting mini-games such as Cloud Burst, Safari Sniper, and Underground Mining!

Challenging Puzzles: Put your brain to the test, and find ways to solve many of the unique and complex puzzles littered throughout Borrius!

A Rich Post-Game: Spend hours after the main campaign battling in Pokemon Unbound’s battle facilities, completing Missions, mining in the KBT Expressway, catching Legendary Pokemon, and so much more!

A Custom OST: Enjoy over 180 original songs composed for Pokemon Unbound, each as brilliant as the last! And if you’re left wanting them for yourself, you can download them all here!

#Pokemon #pokemon rom hacks #gba rom hacks #pokemon games #pokemon scarlet and violet

6 notes · View notes

titsthedamnseason · 3 months

Text

it’s probably a bit hasty for me to get right into posting my thoughts but alas i shall! it took a bit but i finally finished mistborn era one!!! 🥳💗

i rated the final empire 4.25/5 stars (looking back i actually think this book deserved 5 stars. i was a little harsh but the ending and overall story arc is perfect especially now having the context of the whole series. i think if i were to reread it i would appreciate it so much more)

i rated well of ascension 4.75/5 stars

and lastly, i gave hero of ages a 4/5 stars

ultimately i was quite satisfied with sazed’s ending and the way his character arc ended. i thought it culminated very expertly and if there was any character that should have become a god it was certainly him

vin’s ending i was more unsatisfied with but i maybe need more time to sit with it. i never necessarily saw that for her and thought it was so abstract that it lost some of its impact for me. maybe it was that the moment she took on the role of preservation it was obvious that “human” vin was dead no matter the fate of her mystical consciousness so the actual moment of her death had way less impact than a character like her deserved. i mean, she was literally the main character lol. and from a romantic standpoint her and elend’s final goodbye while they were both human in person was underwhelming. maybe on purpose since neither of them knew they would never see each other again but still im bitter about it. i’m happy they are reunited though

it might be too soon for me to really articulate my thoughts on elend’s death. i kind of hated it in the sense that it’s frustrating when a character has their moment of actualization and grows to their full potential only to die pages later, as if all that development was only for dramatic effect. but i think this one is too raw and i also might just not like it because im sad about it. objectively elend was a loyal ruler that wanted nothing but to protect his people and that is what he died doing with a smile on his face so in that sense i can acknowledge that it was in character and he would probably be content to know he died playing such a major role in saving the world

overall i really loved my introduction to brandon sanderson! his books are a rollercoaster and i hear it only gets crazier / worse / better / intenser from here so i am READY 🫡 my copy of arcanum unbounded is on the way

#and now i must sleep. I MOVE BACK TO SCHOOL IN THE MORNING!!! i have to be up soonish….#i’m not used to getting so little sleep anymore lol but getting to the end of hero of ages is worth it #mine #mistborn #juli reads the cosmere #i have a feeling i’ll get through a lot of sanderson this year #i decided this year will be a year of fewer but longer books #i think i find that i enjoy longer books much more. way better payoff

4 notes · View notes

sinceileftyoublog · 1 year

Text

Purling Hiss Interview: Piecemeal Worldbuilding

BY JORDAN MAINZER

“It’s finally here. I can’t believe it.”

That was Mike Polizze over the phone, speaking to me last month about Drag on Girard, the new Purling Hiss album out now via Drag City. It’s the catchiest, most power pop-forward PH record yet, Polizze’s lead-rhythm guitar arrangements and the singalong harmonized vocals leading the charge on sci-fi songs vaguely about Philadelphia, paranoia, and everything in between.

Drag on Girard seems like a return to Polizze’s skyward scuzz, after the dialed back, languid jams of his solo debut Long Lost Solace Find. In actuality, though, it was supposed to come out long before this year, just like the valiant “return” from Polizze’s other band, Birds of Maya’s Valdez, recorded in 2014 but released 7 years later. Polizze and company started tracking Girard at the tail end of 2019 and finished it in early 2020. Before he was able to do vocals and overdubs, the pandemic and lockdown happened. He eventually got into the studio in 2021, but delays in vinyl manufacturing backups and therefore test pressings, in combination with Drag City’s regular release queue, meant that the record didn’t come out until this March. “It seems on paper like a long break between Purling Hiss records,” the prolific Polizze said. “But the chronology was messed up.”

2022 was the first year since Polizze started his music career that none of his projects released anything. Because 2020′s Long Lost Solace Find was technically his last record chronologically, the world feels weirdly open. At the start of the pandemic, he and his wife moved from Fishtown in Philly to the suburbs where he grew up, and they now have a two-year-old child. “Coming out on the other side of all that is kind of a weird feeling,” said Polizze. “Now, I’m at an interesting point where there’s no big plan.” Even if the looseness of Drag on Girard is coincidental, you can see Polizze’s unbound attitude in everything from the way he’s honest about the piecemeal worldbuilding of Drag on Girard’s themes to the fact that he’s not currently working with a booking agent, planning shows himself. That includes tonight and tomorrow night at Union Pool in Brooklyn, with Chris Forsyth and Garcia Peoples.

Read my conversation with Polizze below, edited for length and clarity.

Since I Left You: Do you think the loose sounding nature of Drag on Girard was a result of your attitude to just have fun with it?

Mike Polizze: Yes, absolutely. We recorded at Jeff [Zeigler’s] again. I really wanted that “live in the studio” feel. There were even a couple songs that weren’t totally structured. The ones on the B-side are “let’s just have fun with it,” which is the spirit of the live stuff. I still feel like I want to go in that direction more. I wanted it to be off-the-cuff, not super refined.

SILY: It almost seems to me like the punkier, noisier, scuzzier version of the same spirit as Long Lost Solace Find. Same vibe, different aesthetic.

MP: The solo album is pretty much just me, and Kurt [Vile] on a couple things, and [Drag on Girard] is with the band. It’s weird, because the songs are new to people now, and they’re still fresh for us, but everything got put on hold for everybody.

SILY: Have you been playing the Drag on Girard songs live for a bit?

MP: The first song, “Yer In All My Dreams”, had been kicking around for a few years, in the live sets since 2017-2018, and we cut it in the studio in 2019. I still can’t believe how much time has passed. “Baby”’s been kicking around for a while. “Stay With Us”, [too].

SILY: I like how the record traverses the different eras of guitar music. There are some of your usual influences, and the closing track has a Crazy Horse thing going on, but songs like “When The End Is Over” and even “Out The Door” has that jangle pop feel to it. Are you a fan of Flying Nun Records?

MP: Yeah, I do like that stuff a lot. I don’t really know where influences come from. I consider it like fishing. You have the fishing rod out, and you’re waiting for something to come along. That’s how I write. I didn’t set out to write like this on purpose. The placeholder name for “When The End Is Over” was “Power Pop” because it felt like Cheap Trick or Shoes or even Teenage Fanclub. But yeah, I love The Clean and all that stuff.

SILY: How did you approach the lyrics on the record?

MP: Normally, I’ll sort of find a song or riff and work off that and come up with parts just by jamming on them and seeing where they fall. Lyrics are usually last. I’ll have syllables formed over parts, and maybe a word or two will pop into my mind as a placeholder that presents a theme. When it’s time to really figure it out and I have the pacing and tempo and syllables and inflection, I think, “What do I feel? What kind of words can I conjure up for this?” It fits like a puzzle, with the guitar, then structure, then we practice over it and I sing non-words, then I go to the notepad. It’s less of a story and more nonsensical poetry. I edit from there.

SILY: There’s definitely a bit of sci-fi in here.

MP: [laughs] Maybe in some parts. “Baby” has some funny lyrics. “Drag on Girard”, too.

SILY: What about “Something in my Basement”?!?

MP: Yeah. It’s kind of like my joke to myself, like Little Shop of Horrors. Kitschy and fun. I didn’t know it was going to end up being about that. Little quips or slogans or titles pop up in [my] memory that I build off of. “Something in my basement” popped up in my mind, and the idea of a story there, and the end of the song is, “There’s nothing in my basement,” so the question is whether it really happened or whether it was all in your mind.

SILY: Is it similar to your approach to the instrumentation and aesthetic, where your inspirations are a bit more subconscious?

MP: Yeah, kind of. It’s all right there. We’re constantly taking in information, and I don’t really think of the full idea first at all. I start scribbling, on paper or on guitar, then get a Voice Memo going on my phone. I used to just use my memory when I was younger, and then tape machines. But that is the formula.

I have goals, sometimes, or a general direction I want to go in, but the best thing to do for me is to improvise it and let it guide me and go for it. If I ever hit a wall, which happens all the time, I have to figure out how to navigate, so I keep it wide and vague and then hone in on it as I go. It’s not all figured out before I start.

SILY: Do you feel like this record is a balm when you consider how out of sorts the world feels?

MP: It feels celebratory, in a way. We had fun with it. Truthfully, it was all written before the pandemic happened. I’m happy with it, for sure. It’s kind of like an opposite record from [Long Lost Solace Find], which is refined-sounding in my opinion. It’s structured, pretty even. [Drag on Girard] is pretty off-the-rails. I don’t know if it sounds that way. Just because it took so long to come out doesn’t mean we were in the studio the whole time. It’s pretty shrill in some parts. I tried to balance between raw and unhinged with pop sensibilities. It’s all over the place.

SILY: What’s the album title mean?

MP: It’s an inside joke between my drummer Ben [Leaphart] and I. When I first moved to Philly in 2004, I met him and Jason [Killinger] from Birds of Maya. It was the first time I moved into a house with bandmates and roommates. Fishtown was starting to gentrify a bit, but it was still an affordable place. Part of me is talking about the glory days of that, but I’m not from that neighborhood, so what right do I have? [In any case,] it was affordable and became this artist utopia with a lot of music people. It was a good time right around then, the early 2000s, with Espers, Jack Rose, Birds of Maya, Kurt Vile, The War on Drugs. Johnny Brenda’s was one floor, no food, draught beer, a hole in the wall.

Girard Avenue is one of the main strips/arterial routes that goes through Fishtown, along with Frankford Avenue. Me and Ben had our used crappy old vehicles. In 2004, I’d meet up with him and there’d be nobody on Girard. It was pretty dead at night. There were no cars on the road after 8 P.M. We’d joke about drag racing on Girard Avenue. It was an edgier neighborhood. Since then, Fishtown has totally gentrified: There’s no parking, it’s overdeveloped, there are all these crappy buildings, and there’s nowhere to move. This isn’t anything political or social, just a personal inside joke. It’s actually kind of stupid, but I thought the title had a good ring to it. Philly can be “a drag,” and there’s other imagery invoked in that. I like it when things have or could have more than one meaning.

SILY: This record is also a windows-down, blast from the car stereo record.

MP: [laughs]

SILY: What’s the story behind the cover art?

MP: I had lots of sketches, and I drew and colored with different mediums a lot before I moved out of Fishtown in 2018-2019. I haven’t done it much the past few years. Jason is an artist and graphic designer. I brought a lot of stuff to him, but we actually went a different direction. It’s not what the cover is now. We had a couple other ideas, and the cover that’s now is one of them. It matched the back cover idea, which we did have. I think we hit a wall. We didn’t really know what we wanted. I pitched some of my sketch ideas, and my bandmates liked it, and Drag City [did, too]. I liked it because I made it, but I don’t know what the world likes. Every once in a while, I’ll draw things that don’t make sense. Kind of like the sci-fi thing, [the] guy [on the cover] is sort of my catatonic space traveler suspended in the multi-verse, or something. It’s half-baked, and tied into Drag on Girard. It’s funny how I stitched together this half-baked story and imagery, this theme of sci-fi imagery and living in Philadelphia. There are these songs, lyrics, album cover, and album title, and I almost put together the story in reverse that way. We’re people and take in all this information every day, and there are probably people who are way more organized than me. It’s fun for me, and it feels multi-dimensional, going from the sketches to Jason and me working on it to Drag City. It’s not the order I expected.

SILY: Have you been writing new material?

MP: Yeah. It honestly feels great, and sometimes, I don’t realize it until moments like this where I get to talk about it. There are irons in the fire. I feel grateful I always have something I feel like I can work on because I’ve compiled enough ideas on my own. I’m working on another solo record; slowly but surely, you’ll see something there at some point. I’m so lucky to have the bandmates I have in Purling Hiss, I’m sure we’ll keep working on stuff. Birds of Maya wants to do some more stuff. I almost miss editing music in my 4-track and computer at home. Any free time that’s rare, I miss messing around with things outside of what I just mentioned. There have been a couple ideas with collaborations, but nothing I can speak on because they might not happen. I’m trying to keep things moving.

SILY: Anything you’ve been listening to, watching, or reading you’ve dug?

MP: I’ve been struggling to find time to read but I have a pile of books. Fiction-wise, I got True Grit. I got the SST [Records] book, Corporate Rock Sucks. Because of my toddler, I’m squeezed for personal time.

Since Wayne Shorter died, I’ve been on a jazz kick. My dad died when I was a teenager, but he played saxophone and started music school young and didn’t end up doing it because he had a family. But he had a pretty cool record collection. He left behind a bunch of jazz records, lots of Blue Note stuff. Lots of [John] Coltrane lately. I keep going through kicks, days where I listen to my own band practices and demos, and then I’ll get to the point I need to listen to other people’s music. Gábor Szabó. My dad had Dreams in his collection. Pharoah Sanders’ Karma. I really wish he had Sun Ra stuff. I know Sun Ra was between Chicago and Philly--we can’t take full credit for him.

youtube

0 notes

64bitgamer · 1 year

Text

0 notes

kodzukyan · 3 years

Text

better with you (until it kills me)

notes: it's always missing baji hours here </3 fluff, angst; alternative ending: always, always you

summary: four times you think you are in love with baji keisuke, and the one time you tell him.

wc: 3.7k

You're reasonably sure the only reason he chooses you to pair up with for the Japanese literature project is that you sit next to him, but it surprises you all the same. You don't think you have much of a presence in class, but you don't think you can say the same about your new partner, Baji Keisuke.

His slicked-back ponytail and thick frames make his presence seem like a poindexter, but there's something about his bruised knuckles and his fierce aura that makes him feel ferocious. You've noticed him hang out with the school delinquent on multiple occasions. You also think you've seen him laugh wildly as he beats up some of the local thugs who crowded around the said delinquent he's friends with.

He isn't who you expect him to be at first glance, and that intrigues you more than you like to admit. You're too nervous to openly ask, so you settle for stealing glances at him from the corner of your eyes.

So, when he really decides on you and submits the partner form, you don't know what to think.

In the time that you two are partners, you've discovered a couple of things about him. First, his handwriting and kanji absolutely suck. Despite that, he writes a letter addressed to someone named Kazutora every week without fail. As if that isn't endearing enough, it gets even more so when he pouts at the complex characters that he often gets wrong and the inevitable smile that breaks out whenever you show him how to write them correctly.

("Oh, thanks! I would probably fail my kanji tests without you and Chifuyu. Kazutora probably can't even understand what I'm saying," he laughs rambunctiously.)

Second, he's genuinely an unexpectedly good partner in terms of being punctual about meeting up. However, despite being on time, there is little progress on the project. Your work times often end up in discussions about random life topics rather than the project itself.

(“Do you like cats?” he asks out of the blue one day, head on the table and books already forgotten.

“Uh, yeah, I guess so,” you humor him because you’re also tired of researching Japanese literature.

“Wanna see my cats? They’re all strays,” he sits up suddenly, eyes lit and smile bright.

You nod, and he proceeds to take out his phone to show you pictures of his cats. You note his lock-screen is a picture of all his cats, and his camera roll is just full of his friends and mom, motorcycles, and the said cats. With shining eyes full of excitement, he tells you their names and their personalities in detail.

"Do you think cats recognize their names but choose to ignore us whenever we call them?" he resumes the conversation after he finishes showing you his gallery. He leans back as he balances his pencil on top of his pursed lips.

"Maybe. Depends on the cat? Maybe they just hate you?" you mimic his pose. You suppose thirty minutes of work is enough progress for the day.

"Ouch," he grimaces as if it shatters him directly in the heart.)

Third, sometimes he comes with his hair down and without his glances, with stains on his clothes that he claims are ketchup, despite it not smelling like that at all.

("Uh, hey, sorry I'm late today," he offers sheepishly as he runs a hand through his unbound hair.

"Oh, it's okay," you finally say after you take in his shaggy appearance. You try not to think about how handsome he is despite the bruises forming on his face. "Are you… okay?"

"All good! The ketchup bottle just randomly exploded," he laughs nervously and awkwardly. "Anyways!! The project!!"

You stare at him dubiously but nod anyway. "Okay, if you say so…")

Fourth, he has an extremely charming smile, especially when his fangs are in full display. To some, it may look fierce and menacing; to you, it looks cute, especially when his eyes are always brimming with life and his laugh is full of vitality.

More often than not you catch yourself staring at him because he's just so intriguing.

You try to ignore your racing heart when your stolen glances become shared ones, and he flashes you a grin softer than the smiles you've seen.

-----

“Uh, hi.” You say shyly as you enter through Baji’s window. It’s not frequently you seek out Baji at his own home, especially through the window he keeps open almost exclusively for stray cats to seek shelter.

“What the fuck?” Baji drops the stray cat he's cuddling as you give a slight wave, causing the cat to meow loudly at the sudden change in demeanor.

“Sorry to drop by unannounced. I, uh, just wanted some company.”

You feel vanishingly small as you awkwardly laugh and piece together some words that make sense. Home is supposed to be full of warmth, but your home is more of a house with people than a home with love. It’s a truth you’ve long accepted, but some days, it feels a little extra cold.

Therefore, you run, and somehow you end up here, in the comforts of Baji’s room.

Maybe you are currently a stray cat, feeling a little more lost than found. Maybe you find that he’s the sort of comfort that warms you a little when your heart feels heavy. Maybe you are just a little bit in like with him, and he is the first person you want to see whenever you’re feeling down.

The room is silent aside from the soft paps of cats moving around and the periodic meow. Then, he pats the spot next to him, and you make your way there. As soon as you sit down, he hands you a cat.

“Here, hold her. She’s nice,” he comments as he places the calico cat he dropped earlier in your lap, petting her as she adjusts to her new position on you.

She narrows her eyes and softly purrs in your lap as Baji pets her, and this makes you feel more in the moment than in your head like you’ve been. Your initial baffle turns into a smile as she purrs louder when you pet her, and just like that, you feel a little more found than lost.

You lean on his shoulder as you continue petting the calico cat in your lap. You keep your eyes on her as she climbs onto his lap and nuzzles him in an attempt to hide your burning cheeks and your drumming heart from your proximity.

“Thanks for giving me a home when I don’t want to be in my own,” you tell him softly, airly, almost as if you’re letting him in on a secret.

He stops playing with the cats for a moment and pauses. Feeling his intense stare, you peek through your lashes up at him. His broad grin and sharp canines are in full display, and his smile looks a little more boyish than wild. He tousles your hair as he laughs aloud boisterously before he props his head on top of yours.

“You’ll always have a home here.”

-----

It all started when a group of thugs looked at you inappropriately and made some comments that made you uncomfortable. You grip the ends of his sleeve just a little harder and press yourself behind him, trying to make yourself impossibly small. Baji, seeing your small form and downcast eyes, removes your hand from his sleeve and places it in his hand. Knowing Baji and him knowing you and your every mood, he does not stand for it. He simply flashes you a reassuring grin before he squeezes your hand and runs straight at them.

He throws the first punch, and you could just stand there in shock as he pummels through them and beats them up. He has cuts and bruises everywhere, and you’re certain he’s taken on a few nasty hits on his ribs. Though you’re equally confident that these thugs are absolutely 100% in worse shape than he is.

“Oh my god,” you sob frantically as Baji wobbles back to you, ferocious smile on his face softens as he sees you. He pats your head when he notes your teary eyes. You’re not even sure when you start crying, but the tears just don’t seem to stop. “Are you okay? Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Are you -”

He clutches your tear-stained face in his hands, “Look at me.”

Your eyes meet his, but you can barely see him over your tears as you continue your incoherent rambling.

“Hey,” he tries once more, voice more frantic as he struggles to find words. He finally just squishes your cheeks and yells, “Do you think I care about anything else but you right now?”

Your eyes widen, and the tears forming fall freely onto his hands. Oh, oh, oh, you think to yourself as your beating heart rapidly thumps at an exponential speed, maybe he’s also falling. When you meet his steady gray eyes, the shocking realization that maybe you’re not the only one dumb and possibly in love stops your tears.

He sighs in relief when your tears gradually stop, and as if all the tiredness accumulated in his body hit him all at once, he falls down onto the ground.

You try to catch him as best as you can, and with the combined effort of mostly himself and partially you, he breaks his fall. He lays sprawled out on the ground. After you check for wounds and find none too serious, you sit with your knees tucked under you by where he lays and moves his head onto your lap.

All around you are the battered bodies of the thugs you’ve encountered, but all you can see at the moment is him and his gray eyes that disappear into crescent moons as he flashes you a grin. He’s too tired to move, but he raises a fist up into the air in victory anyway.

“I got you.”

-----

"Wanna go on a ride?" he texts you.

It’s almost midnight when he texts you, and it’s probably way past when you should stay up. But your heart flutters at the thought of adventure, at the thought of him, so you quickly respond, “Okay, but be quiet! Don't wake my parents up again, stinky!!!”

You can already imagine his sheepish smile when he sends you a "that was once!!! my bad" back.

After sending him a quick ":p", you silently put on some clothes more fitting to go out than your pajamas. The sound of his motorcycle announces his greater-than-life presence long before his text does. Grabbing two scrunchies, you sneak out your window.

He only greets you with a goofy smile and a wave, hair free-flowing in the wind. Under the moonlight, his gray eyes twinkle with vigor and youth. It knocks the air out of your lungs as you glance at him because he's beautiful, ethereal, and alive. He smiles smugly when he catches your stare, but he holds his hand out for you to take.

"Hi," you whisper under the twinkling stars as you put your hand in his.

"Hey," he whispers back as he curls his fingers around your hand before adjusting to interlace your fingers together.

The quietness and intimacy of this moment drown out the world - the sound of cars driving by, of cicadas flying, of the world standing still. The only thing keeping you from floating is his hand and the sound of your heartbeat.

"I got you a hair tie." You offer softly with an equally soft smile, eyes pointing to the scrunchies on your wrist.

"I got you a hoodie," he responds as he nods to his motorcycle. "Because I knew your dumb ass would, once again, forget to dress for the winds."

"I'm dressed decently enough. You, though… please tie your hair… It hurts like hell when it whips in my face," you laugh lightly.

He rolls his eyes. "That's also what you said last time before you ended up stealing my hoodie, and I ended up being cold!" he complains, but there's a certain fondness in his voice.

You only stick your tongue out childishly at him. You would rather bite your tongue than admit that you are always slightly underdressed for the occasion so he would keep giving you his hoodies.

He tugs your interlaced hand and pulls you closer, and as you stand so close to him, you think close isn't quite close enough. The two of you linger in that position for longer than what should be appropriate for friends, but you think you have been tiptoeing around that line for a while now. Your heart races, and you're sure your erratic heart is beating fast enough to generate heat to keep you warm against the cold winds.

He pulls away first, moving to grab his hoodie before he roughly puts it on you. He laughs when you complain about your ruffled hair, but as his hoodie and scent engulf you, you could only shyly smile. He takes a scrunchie despite complaining about how poofy it is. As he settles in his bike and you settle in behind him, arms tight around his waist, you think this is probably what holding the universe in your arms feels like.

He rives his bike loudly despite your warning, but you find that you could care less right now as he takes off. You are young and dumb, but the wind is running through your hair as the two of you are chasing the moon, and it makes you feel so alive. Neon lights and starlit skies blur together as he speeds through familiar roads, and the brisk winds drown out your loud laughter. It feels like you're feeling everything at once, but your head is so clear.

You think you can understand why he loves riding so much because the only thing that you can hear is your loud heartbeat, and the only thing that matters is you're living.

He finally stops at a local 24-hour diner. The moonlight shines through the window by your table. You are still feeling the wild wind in your hair, cold air on your face, and the warmth of Baji’s back on your arms. It's way past midnight now, and the yellow lights of the diner feel a little more homey than dingy. He’s munching on some fries, occasionally waving one in your face whenever he’s trying to make a point about something. As you watch the various expressions on his face, a smile makes its way to your face.

“Hey Keisuke,” you grab a fry and jab it at him in the middle of his sentence. He stops his mid-word as he stares at you, head tilting slightly and mouth still gaping. There is a particular word that you keep thinking of whenever you think of Baji, a feeling that lingers and fills your heart up. You know what it is. You think you know at least, and in moments like these when you’re just watching his goofy self munching on fries while boisterously laughing at something dumb, all you can think of is those four letters.

“You’re my best friend,” you whisper before you eat your fry. Best friend, you think, encompasses a lot of things and feelings as you stare at his childlike grin, heart fluttering and mind blanking because all you see is him. You hope he knows, hope he gets that best friend is a loose term because he is so much more.

When he meets your eyes and his gray eyes crinkle in mirth and laughter rolls off his lips, you think he does.

“I know,” he smugly nods before he drops another fry into his mouth. “I guess you’re pretty cool too.”

You stick your tongue out at him and feel a warmth in your heart that matches the pinks of his cheeks. Maybe it’s adrenaline still in your blood, maybe it’s the moment, but it makes you devious, brave even, as you lean over and chomp down on the fry he's holding.

He stares at you with his mouth wide open, looking absolutely flabbergasted and offended. “Hello? That was my last fry!”

“Sorry,” you giggle, not feeling all that sorry at all. You know he’s not truly that offended because he has that stupid grin on his face, because he’s always soft with you. A part of you does feel a little sorry when you see the small pout that arises on his face. “I’ll treat you to yakisoba later?”

He turns away from you, face still slightly sulky as he huffs silently.

“No? You don’t want yakisoba?” you ask. You still find it amusing that Baji Keisuke, the first division captain of the Toman Gang who would punch someone on the streets for no reason other than just because he feels like it, is pouting because you stole his last fry. If anyone from any rival gangs sees Baji Keisuke now, they probably wouldn’t believe this is the same person.

“Fine,” he huffs softly, “But don’t think one yakisoba is enough.”

“Then,” you begin, your heart pounding loudly in your chest as you work up the courage, “What about this?”

He turns to you in confusion, and before your courage runs out on you, you crash your lips onto his before you pull away.

“Repayment,” you mutter meekly, eyes avoiding his because you’re sure he can feel the heat radiating off your cheeks from where he’s sitting.

“Hey,” he tugs on your hand under the table. When you finally look at him, he continues, “Just one isn’t enough.”

He kisses you again.

-----

Home is supposed to be the place you come from, but you think it's more like a place you find, pieced together from scattered bits of feelings, emotions, people along the way. Somewhere along the lines, home becomes less of a place and more of a person. Your home becomes the boy with the sharp canines and long hair that gets tangled by the stray cats he keeps, the "I love you" declared loudly with kisses and the longing looks in between, the comfortable warmth of his body next to yours as you chase sunsets and live in your own infinity. Your home is Baji Keisuke and the constant image of him in your mind and the infinite pieces of him in your heart.

Infinity, though, is awfully short, you think, as you see him lay surrounded by bouquets, eyes closed in eternal slumber. He's always looked good in white, but when his tan complexion is nearly as pale as the white roses surrounding him, you think white is an awful color on him. His eyes always shine with possibilities and promises, and while you've always joked that his sleeping face is cute because he always looks so innocent, adorable even, all you want now is to see him awake.

His heroism and love for his friends are always something that you love about him, but in turn, it feels so incredibly cruel to you now. For as short as he has been in your life, he becomes pieces embedded so deeply in it that it makes you whole. You cannot imagine a world where there is no Baij, where he isn’t there to punch a hooligan on the streets or feed stray cats at night or hold you when your world is crashing. You cannot imagine a life where he isn’t here to shine a bright light in your life without his laughter and goofy personality. Suddenly the world blurs around you, and you can't breathe as droplets of water hit your clenched hands on your lap.

You hold his hands. Cold, cold, cold, when they used to be warm enough to light a fire in you. There are so many things you want to tell him, say to him, but the speech you prepare in your head drowns in silence as your voice gives out on you. All the words in your head just come out as broken sobs. You feel the sympathetic and equally broken glance of his mom as she embraces you, but all you can think about is that he won’t open his eyes.

Baji Keisuke has always been bigger than life, you think, because he becomes a part of everything in your life. There are traces of him everywhere - him with his cats on your lock-screen, the random memes he sends you at night, the little notes he leaves you written in his ugly penmanship with love. When you think of these things, you feel like your heart is breaking all over again.

People tell you to be strong, and while you want to retort because how can you when he’s gone?, you find that you cannot say a word without crying. You’re tired of crying too because your eyes are already so, so raw, but it seems like all you can do is cry. When you think you've finally run out of tears and your tears finally stop, a new batch takes over even at the slightest things that remind you of him. You feel so pathetic because you can't do anything without water leaking from your eyes, and you hate yourself for being so weak.

You tune out the somber tone of his friends and the broken tone of his mom because you don't want to accept a reality where he isn't here. But luck is never on your side because he never opens his eyes again, and you never get to tell him how much you love him. All you get are flashbacks and memories of him and emptiness in your heart and soul. You tell yourself you have to be strong and smile and live for the both of you, but you can't. Not when he isn't here, not when he isn't with you anymore. Every time you think about that fact, your heart breaks again.

"Hey, stupid," your broken sobs ring loudly in the deafening silence, "I love you."

The words you’ve wanted to tell him for so long are finally in the open, but there is no answer.

#baji keisuke x reader #keisuke baji x reader #baji x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x y/n #tokrev x reader #baji fluff #baji angst #tokyo revengers imagines #tokyo revengers fluff #tokyo revengers angst #i... i just really miss baji :(#come home you stinky head </3 #i'm sorry if he's ooc :(( in my head he's just really dorky and soft w his s/o HAHA #rissa told me to make it angst so i made it angst 👍#sometimes i write things

739 notes · View notes

the-lunar-pull · 2 years

Text

SamSteve Headcanon

I think Steve’s decision to pass the shield onto Sam was not a sudden. There’s something about the way Steve spoke to Sam that day, not just like he couldn’t be prouder but also like he was low key thrilled about what was going to happen in a few moments.

Steve showed up at Sam’s house with a legit army on his tail and on the surface, he knew nothing about him except thinking Sam was an air force pilot.

But that’s not true. Their conversation at the VA is key — because Sam immediately puts all his cards on the table. There’s no banter there like in the running scene, Sam is just opening up to Steve about his sorrow (talks about losing Riley), how much happier he is not taking orders anymore (the implication being that Sam is too much of a leader to be just a good soldier), and then he does something that totally throws Steve off-kilter — he asks about him: how he’s doing, if he’s thinking about getting out, if he’s happy. And I think that is where Sam goes from a very impressive man to someone that is clearly meant for more. Because a true leader does that. Checks in with his team, asks them about themselves, involves them, worries about them. Opens up to them about his own struggles and shortcomings.

Seeing how seamlessly Sam eventually steps up to a leadership role without even thinking about it (I think this is especially clear in ca: civil war) makes me think it’s not by accident. I think the spark of “I think Sam would be better at this than me” starts at the VA. And then it’s little things, a slow kind of build up that I don’t think Sam sees coming. It starts with Steve bugging him about joining the Avengers. Then once Sam does, it’s clear that Sam has a lot of sway over mission planning, especially on the fly (“what’s the play, Sam?”) because Sam is scary good at improvising and thinking fast on his feet.

So I picture them at the avengers compound the night before a big mission. Steve knocks on the door to Sam’s room, asks Sam to look over the plan one more time to make sure it’s solid. Sam probably just rolls his eyes, not quite getting why Steve always insists on Sam having the final say. Sam finds a couple of weak points and Steve nods, impressed.

“Never would have seen that,” Steve says.

“Good thing I’m your eyes in the sky then,” Sam says, chuckling.

“Yeah, good thing,” Steve says. He lingers maybe, wondering if he should ask Sam if he wants to practice with the shield. He doesn’t though. Figures there’ll be time enough for that later.

Then everything falls apart and Steve is basically alone. Unbound by attachments again — a man out of time, always.

And what does Steve do? He follows Sam. Still. Even when Sam is gone, he follows Sam’s lead. Steve leads a support group, like Sam had. He checks in on Nat, says all the right things to the support group about moving on, even though there’s a blankness in his eyes when he talks. He can’t be as real, as open, as optimistic as Sam, Steve knows that, but dammit he tries.

In that final scene with them, Steve says that the shield isn’t his so definitively because it’s true. His shield was just a weapon to him, it reached legendary status after Steve’s sacrifice. But what the shield means when he’s passing it on? That does belong to Sam. It belongs to everyone that came after Steve, that’s who he sacrificed himself for, but especially to Sam, because of who he is, what he’s gone through; what he’s sacrificed and what he’s lost. And what he still believes. Sam’s hopefulness is maybe what makes him the best for the shield, because what is a true leader without hope?

Steve loved (platonically or romantically - up to you), respected, and trusted Sam. He left this brand new world behind, knowing that it was in good hands — the best hands.

I think though that even if Steve had stayed in the present, he would have passed on the shield. I think living in a world without Sam for five years would have only made Steve even more sure of his decision. The world needs men like Sam — needs them to care about people, needs them to question authority, needs them to step up and lead. And as much as there is a responsibility in leadership, I think there’s an equal amount of it in following, in choosing the right person.

I think that’s what Steve learns, ultimately. How to follow. How to follow well.

How to follow his heart.

#samsteve #sam wilson #steve rogers #headcanon

43 notes · View notes

bonny-kookoo · 4 years

Text

Rabid (JJK x Reader) 🐾☁️💜🔞

🐺Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

🐺Genre: A/B/O AU!, Werewolf AU!, Angst, romance, smut

🐺Warnings: alpha!kookers and his omega!reader, impreg kink, shifting, hybrid Au, werewolf Au, bangtan pack!, primal sex, biting, scratching, scenting, marking, knotting, size kink, strength kink, praise kink oh yes, protective boi kook, Jungkook asserting dominance smh, omega being the cute ball of soft cotton candy she is, fighting, blood, violence, injuries, best alpha doggo boi Jungkook, heart to heart convos, degrading names and not the kinky ones sadly, puppies, I repeat, puppies 🐶, omega!Jin, Omega!Taehyung, Beta Yoongi, Alpha Namjoon, alpha Hoseok, Beta Jimin, don’t worry Omega doesn’t automatically mean submissive oh boy Nop Nop, just read the damn thing it’ll make sense okay, Dead Dove Do Not Eat

🐺Summary: Jeon Jungkook and his Omega are a mates couple of Bangtan Pack. Recently, the sweet bubble they’ve created seems to grow weaker and weaker, as a feral pack attacks and kills wolfs left and right. Things take a dark turn, and for once, the big bad wolf is actually terrified. Terrified of loosing you.

A pack's life wasn't always sunshine and rainbows, or comfort and protection.

Bangtan pack had learned that the hard way months ago, when Namjoons ex Mate had been violently attacked and killed. He'd mourned quite a bit, even though she'd been unfaithful and had refused to accept her own pups, leaving them with him and his pack as she'd continued her unbound lifestyle. It had still hurt him deeply- yet it was a thing that happened.

He got over it.

And he was happy again these days, as he watched Taehyung and Jin play with his two pups, who still weren't old enough to shift into their human forms. They would stay like that for a while longer, and sometimes Namjoon caught himself wishing that they could just stay like that forever- without having to worry too much about their human sides like he and his pack had to. But it would happen eventually, and he hoped they would grow up to be just as respectful and caring as the rest of his pack was.

Taehyung and Jin were, together with Jungkooks Mate, the only omegas of the pack. While you were the only one who would bear her own pups in the future, Taehyung and Jin took on the roles of caring for his children. He was glad he had them with him- he was not fit to be an only-father due to his alpha side. "What're you thinking about?" Yoongi, the pack's Beta asked from the sidelines, coffee in hand as he watched Taehyung and Jin play with the youngest of the pack, letting the young pups claw and bite their fur without much resistance.

"I'm glad things are returning to normal." He explained, and Yoongi nodded, when Jungkook and you stepped in from your recent grocery shopping trip. Namjoon laughed as the two excited pups immediately yapped and stumbled towards you, making you kneel down to greet them properly. He caught Jungkooks soft gaze on you immediately, already knowing that he would turn out to be a great father and alpha for his own litter in the future. "Everything okay out there?" The Alpha asked Jungkook, who nodded, although not too confident.

"We caught some scents near the borders when we returned, but it wasn't too evident. They probably only want to provoke again." He sighed out as he took the other plastic bags you had discarded next to you, placing them on the kitchen counter and sitting on the couch, next to yoongi. "Do you want me to patrol again?" He asked his leader, as he'd turned quiet and a bit thoughtful at his comment.

"No." He said, and Yoongi furrowed his brows. "If they want to provoke, let them. I'm not biting the bait." He explained, and Jungkook nodded, before he turned his head, having heard you shift. Namjoons mind eased up a little as he watched you, Tae and Jin groom the pups, motherly instincts growing more and more these days. "She'll be a great mother." He hummed, and Jungkook grinned, as if the praise was sent towards him. In a sense it was, because even though Namjoon had talked about his mate, he could hear his alpha inside his head.

ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ. ᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇsᴛ. ᴘᴇʀғᴇᴄᴛ ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ. ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴄʜᴏɪᴄᴇ.

You slowly detached yourself from them after a moment, walking over to Jungkook as you placed your head onto his thigh, careful not to interrupt the discussion he currently held with Yoongi. Almost as if on instinct his hand placed itself onto your head, large palm running over your soft fur, making your ears droop to the side a little to give him more room for his affection.

ᴀʟᴘʜᴀ ʟᴏᴠᴇs ᴜs.

Even though you sometimes disagreed with your omega, she was right on most occasions. You've had some small trust issues before you'd met Jungkook, being raised with the warning that Omegas were easily taken advantage of, you were wary of anyone around you. He'd slowly brought you out of your shell however, with promises you knew he'd keep and lots of understanding, communication, and affection. Nowadays, he could kick you around like he wanted, if he wanted to- you would still wag your tail and seek his praise straight after.

It should scare you, but you knew he would never let you down like that. He'd never betray your trust like that. Your whole pack would keep you safe.

ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴘᴀᴄᴋ. ᴘᴀᴄᴋ ᴋᴇᴇᴘs ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀs sᴀғᴇ. ᴘᴀᴄᴋ ʟᴏᴠᴇs ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ.

Your head slipped from his thigh for a second as you'd almost fallen asleep, making Jungkook chuckle and Namjoon snort. You shyly laid down at Jungkooks feet, before he patted the space next to him on the couch. "Come up baby, you don't have to lay on the ground." He said, and you jumped up on the couch, halfway laying on his lap as he continued his talk, his voice lulling you to sleep.

"Hmm.. so sweet." He humms against your neck, as you slowly wake up. His hands are already running over your naked stomach, upwards to cup your chest in his palm, enjoying the feeling of your soft skin underneath his fingers. His eyes are still closed, and he only rumbles out something that almost sounds like a purr every now and then as his lips curl into a lazy but content smile, his nose burying itself into your neck where your scent is strongest. He opens his mouth to run his canines along the skin, before leaving an open mouthed kiss there, making you squirm around a bit in his hold. He moves his legs to cage yours in, as he chuckles when you whine against him. "So soft.. so warm.." He muses, still not quite awake yet you notice as your own body still fights the clouds of sleep as well.

sᴜᴄʜ ᴀ sᴡᴇᴇᴛ ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ. ᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ.

His alpha humms pleased inside his head, happy to have you close to him, satisfied to know you're in his arms. This is where he knows you're safe, where he knows nothing could happen to you.

He squeezes your breast a bit harder, before his thumb moves over your nipple, his deep brown eyes opening a crack to see your form next to him, relaxed and comfortable in his hold, and he feels proud. You're letting him see you so vulnerable, so bare of any form of guard up, you let him guide you however he feels fit for you, and his heart swells as your hands reach for his skin, desperate to feel him close, even though you already are. The times you felt self-conscious and shy at the mere fact you were naked were long gone by now. You felt comfortable around him, enough to know your bond is one without judgement. His eyes lock onto the bite mark still present on your neck, a prominent sign he carried as well, like a wedding band for humans, but way more final than that. It was as if he could see his future with you in the scar on your skin, and he loved every bit of it.

You suddenly playfully bite after his hand which tried to move some hair out of your face, and his eyes widen a bit at the gesture, making you open yours as well. The teasing glint awakes something inside him as you suddenly wiggle your legs around, trying to get on top of him as he grins, locking your legs with his as you whine, pushing at his chest as he chuckles. He grabs your wrist and tries to pin it down as you suddenly move your face to the side, nipping at his fingers without the intention to bite. "Hm, you wanna play?" He asks amused when you duck out of his grasp, only getting as far as laying your stomach over his side, legs still tightly interlocked with his. You claw at his back and he hisses for a moment, yet he doesnt seem mad about it at all as he moves his leg, giving you freedom. For a moment.

Before you can make it out of the bed he grabs your upper arm, pulling you against his chest as you hit his shoulder with the back of your head, now genuinely whining in frustration as he simply laughs. You struggle in his hold, uncaring of both of your nudeness and the way his prominent erection was poking against your lower back. You reach your arms over your head, trying to catch his skin with your fingers to claw at it, yet it only turns into your own demise as he simply raises his arm as well, palm easily catching your wrists and holding them above your head as his nose nuzzles against your neck teasingly.

You grin as he kisses and licks at your bonding mark, happily giving up your fight at this display of affection.

He finally moved around after throwing you backwards on the bed again, towering over your form as he roughly manhandles you around so you are placed on your stomach, before pulling your hips up, making you mewl as you instinctively present to him, making him groan as he leans down, his chest against your back as you could feel his erection between your legs. His hand reaches for your center, chest vibrating against your back as he humms approvingly when his fingers find you already wet and ready for him.

ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs sᴏ ᴘʀᴇᴛᴛʏ ғᴏʀ ᴜs. His alpha cooes. ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs sᴏ ʀᴇᴀᴅʏ. ᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴇʀғᴇᴄᴛ ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ.

Jungkook lets his hand move a bit over your lower lips until he deems you prepared enough. His hand pumps his waiting length for a second, before he enters you quite roughly, sighing at the feeling of your warm walls around him. You felt like home, like comfort, like a safe space that only belonged to him.

ʙɪᴛᴇ. ʙɪᴛᴇ. ʙɪᴛᴇ.

He leans down his head, takes the skin of your neck between his teeth as he bites, before letting go, and repeating that action over and over again until he huffs against your skin in hot breaths. His one arm is hooked underneath your lower belly to keep you snug against him and positioned properly, while his other grabs at your chest roughly, making you mewl as he grunts, every thrust of his hips shaking your body a bit. You try to get up on your arms in front of him, as he suddenly leaves your breasts alone, instead grabbing the back of your neck before he pushes you into the pillows below, careful to let you breathe as you move your face to the side, blissed out expression showing him to keep going. His alpha slowly takes over, moves more to the surface as his voice is rough, low. You're not scared of him, however. You know, just like Jungkook, his alpha would never hurt you. Your Omega bathes in the praise he gives you, making you whine and gasp out when he suddenly slows down his pace, instead thrusting with more force and deeper into you as the sound of skin against skin echoes in the room.

"So warm.. So sweet.. So submissive.." He rumbles out as he mouthes at your shoulder, hot breath making your skin tingle as you grasp the sheets below you, your high slowly reaching its peak as he cooes. "Are you gonna cum little omega? Cum for your alpha?" He asks, and you simply not, drowsy mind having a hard time answering as he suddenly yanks at your hair, stopping everything for a moment as he keeps your head up, his face close to yours as he growls out. "I asked you a question Omega." He grits out. "You wanna play more little one?" He asks amused as you simply rut against his hips, making him growl as he picks up where he left off, his pace relentless as he chases his end, noticing the way you start to clench around him, needing him, wanting him, craving him just as much as he does.

"A-Alpha!" You groan out as you cum, and he bites down hard where your bonding mark lays, grunting out as he still thrusts without much rhythm, until you feel his warmth flood your walls. He sighes out, slowly growing lip against your back as his knot swells up, making you whine while he hushes you, moving a bit, careful not to pull too much as he spoons you, mouthing, licking, and kissing your neck and shoulder as your breathing calms down slowly. This is how you know Jungkook is back, the way he carefully moves the covers back over your bodies since he knows you get cold easily after sex, and the way he just.. doesnt say anything. He doesn't need to.

"Hm.. I can't wait for you to be filled with my pups." He humms out dreamily, drowsy and close to sleep. "All round and glowing. M' gonna protect you so well baby, gonna keep you safe and sound." He muses, and you nod, happily humming as your omega inside you rolls around in satisfaction.

ᴀʟᴘʜᴀ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴄᴀʀᴇ ᴏғ ᴜs. ᴀʟᴘʜᴀ ᴡᴀɴᴛs ᴜs ᴛᴏ ᴄᴀʀʀʏ ʜɪs ᴘᴜᴘs. ᴀʟᴘʜᴀ ᴡᴀɴᴛs ᴜs.

He kisses the back of your neck one last time before he settles for another round of sleep.

"I don't feel good." You said at dinner once, and Jungkook immediately perked up at that.

"What do you mean? Are you sick?" He stressed, his overprotective nature coming to the surface as you scratched your neck, sheepishly shaking your head.

"No no, its not that!" You reassured him, before looking at Namjoon. "I mean, the entire situation. I know it's calm these days, but I don't know.." You admitted, and Jin placed a reassuring hand on your back.

"I get it. I guess it is a little weird." He said, and looked at Namjoon, who seemed in thought about the entire situation. Things have calmed down over the last few days, however, that was no reason to breathe out in relief. Things just calmed down so sudden and without any cause, that it made you feel as if something was off. It wasn't just you who felt like that but the entire pack, you knew this.

"We'll keep you safe either way." Jungkook promised from across you, and you nodded, continuing your dinner.

Things did not turn out well.

When you smelled the intruders, Jungkook had already gotten up from his spot in the front yard of your home in the woods, together with Namjoon and Hoseok already looking out for anyone getting close. It happened suddenly, when Yoongi shouted, shifting immediately as a wolf attacked from the sides.

The rest was utter chaos.

Everyone, you included, shifted into wolf forms, biting and clawing away at the strangers who seemed to snicker and laugh at everything going on. It was as if it was a game to them, as if they were playing- yet there was nothing playful in their nature, as they bit hard on Hoseoks leg, making him yelp as Taehyung jumped to help him. You were no fighter, so you did the only thing rational to you.

You immediately went inside, grabbing the first pup by his neck before you carried him underneath the stairs, rushing into the living room to get the other.

ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ᴘᴜᴘs sᴀғᴇ. ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛ ᴘᴜᴘs. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʟᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ɢᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴜᴘs.

Your omega was just as shaken as you were as you curled up around them, trying to soothe them the best you could as something crashed in the living room, heavy paws making its way towards you. You immediately positioned yourself in front of the terrified kids, which have scrambled into the smallest corner of the storage space under the stairs. Growling menacingly you tried to appear fearless in front of the dark grey wolf in front of you, who simply snapped its jaws at you. You ducked away from him, before you snapped at his leg, biting down hard before he managed to get a grip on your neck. You yelped as his teeth broke skin, but couldn't utter a sound as he pulled and pulled on your scruff, loosing grip before he bit again, another wound forming as you tried to desperately get out of his hold.

Another wolf joined in through the broken window in the kitchen, yapping like an excited hyena at the view of your fighting as he joined in, nipping and pushing you around with amusement as you tried to get them off of you, or at least keep their attention on you for as long as possible, so they wouldn't hurt the youngest.

The first wolf simply threw you down as you again bit his leg, tasting iron on your tongue as the stranger clawed at your backleg, biting and bruising skin as his teeth pulled mouthsfull of fur away from your body. The tufts of softness flew around in the air around you like feathers in a mere pillowfight, yet there was nothing sweet and innocent about this. You yelped out again, loudly, as you felt the skin around your backleg rip between the jaws of the stranger, making you immobile as the strangers suddenly decided to let you be, loosing their fun in you. You took this chance to scramble back to the terrified puppies, hiding them as you weakly curled up around them, your back facing away from them as they shivered, hiding underneath your bloody fur in desperate need of warmth and comfort. You wished you could soothe them, but you couldn't lift your head, blood sticky underneath your body as you tried to stay awake.

They snarl something along the lines of 'leaving the alphas bitch' alone, as they snicker outside, making you feel even worse than you did before.

You knew that Jungkook saw you as more than a mere Omega meant to please him and raise his offspring. You knew that he wasn't blinded by his instincts, and even if he was, his alpha was such a sweet existence which fit your own omega so well that it sometimes made you cry. You fall into a slumber, a vision of your past consuming you whole, as if to comfort your broken body.

"..y. Baby?" He asks you, as your head snaps up from where it rested on your palm. He smiles at you with slight worry, as he points at your pancakes in front of you. "Your food's getting cold baby." He says, and you blush as you look down at your plate, barely touched at all.

sᴛᴜᴘɪᴅ ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ. ʏᴏᴜ sʜᴏᴜʟᴅɴ'ᴛ ʟᴇᴛ ғᴏᴏᴅ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴀʟᴘʜᴀ ɢᴏ ᴛᴏ ᴡᴀsᴛᴇ!

He sighed in front of you, moving the plate towards him as he cuts a piece, holding the fork towards you with an almost teasing grin. "Looks like I'm gonna have to feed you the old fashioned way." He says, and you take the bite as he grins his signature bunny smile. It makes him look so soft and happy, the way his eyes crinkle at the sides and his nose scrunches up. "Can't have my baby starve." He continues, as he cuts another piece. His alpha is weirdly happy about the situation.

ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ ᴍᴜsᴛ ʙᴇ ᴡᴇʟʟ ғᴇᴅ. ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ ᴍᴜsᴛ ʙᴇ ʜᴇᴀʟᴛʜʏ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ.

He hates to do it, but he knows its necessary. "Whats on your mind?" He asks, and he visibly sees your shoulders slump down, as if he'd just taken your favorite book away. "I can see something is troubling you. Please talk to me." He asks. I want to help you, he wants to say, but he keeps it at his words as you slowly take a deep breath.

"They're saying things about me." You start, as he frowns.

"What things?" He asks, voice now a bit more serious. He knows who 'they' are- he knows that you talk about your classmates. He hates to see you being bullied, yet it happens, and you had told him again and again that he can't interfere, not so close to your graduation. You just want things to be done with.

"You're not gonna like 'em." You start, and he nods.

"Probably not. I promise I'm not gonna set your school on fire. But you need to talk to someone about it, and if not me than maybe Jin or Tae-" He continues, until you cut him off.

"Whore." You start, as his eyes widen. It seems as if he's frozen in time for a moment, before his gaze is on you again. "They.. they say I'm.. that you only keep me around because-" You try not to get too riled up as you recall their words. "-because I'm an omega thats good to fuck. Because I'm brainless, and the brainless ones are the best because they don't talk back and just choke on-" Jungkook cuts you off as he holds your hand.

"Stop." He mutters, and you simply look at the wooden table of the small restaurant you both are sitting in, as he sighes. "You're so much more to me than your body." He explains, and you melt under his gaze. "You're my mate, my partner for life, you're the part of my soul I didn't even knew I was missing." He continues, as he holds out another piece of sweetness in front of your lips, as your teary eyes gaze at him. "Their words mean nothing, okay? I love you. And only you." He says, as you take the bite from him. "You could ban me from your vagina for the next years to come and I'd still love you." He mutters playfully, as your cheeks redden.

You really do feel loved.

Jungkook had heard your first yelp loud and clear, and it threw him so off guard that he lost focus for a moment, giving a wolf opportunity to jump up on him. He fought him off with a bit of effort, trying to get inside the house as he became more and more desperate as your cries reached his sensitive ears, making him grown more and more feral in his state of mind.

ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ ɪs ʙᴇɪɴɢ ʜᴜʀᴛ! ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ ɪs ɪɴ ᴅᴀɴɢᴇʀ! ᴡᴇ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛ ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ!

His alpha is restless, pretty much yells into his ears and he swore he would, he swore he would get to you but he couldn't. There were too many.

After a moment of seemingly endless fighting, Namjoon snaps the neck of another alphawolf, successfully ending the attack as the rest of the rogue pack leaves with whines and tails between their legs. Jungkook breathes for a moment, before a certain smell reaches his nose. He locks eyes with Namjoon, who had seemingly noticed it as well, before the big black wolf dashed into the house, stopping dead in his tracks at the scene of the trashed living room and open kitchen, blood and fur scattered around as the irony smell gets almost too much for his sensitive nose.

He can't see you, however.

Your blood and fur show him that you didn't hide successfully, and his heart races as he walks through the mess that is the main space of the house, before his ears catch the whimpering of pups.

There, underneath the stairs in the corner you're laying down. Your back is facing him, blood and saliva staining your fur, as you barely breathe. The pups, smelling the familiar pack, scramble out from underneath your paws, crawling over your body as they rush towards their father, who eagerly inspects them immediately. Jungkook has absolute tunnel vision in that moment however, as he noticed your lack of movement.

He's moving on pure instinct at this point, delicately grabbing your scruff as he carefully pulls you out of your hiding space, but not fully out in the open. He whines and whimpers at your form, limply laying on the ground as you barely breathe, making him restless as he walks from one side to the other, unsure what to do. His mind is in a frenzy, alpha going crazy, as he nudges you every now and then with his snout, silently begging you to get up. He gets pulled away from this however, when he noticed Jin walking towards him. He knows he's no threat. He knows he's pack. But he's not himself in that moment.

ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛ. ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛ. ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛ.

His alpha growls at him, and he does the same, as he scrambles to stand above your form, tail standing diagonal being him as his ears tall as he growls out low and dangerously, for the first time actually showing intention to attack his own brothers. Jin stays still as everyone watches from their spots, witnessing for the first time how their pack member turns against them.

'Jungkook-' Jin tries to communicate, but the younger alpha continues to growl, feet never standing still as he seems restless. As if he doesn't know what to do. He looks like a young wolf in that moment, scared, confused, and painfully upset. His smell is bitter and strong, sending of a warning to everyone in the room as his ears start to slowly droop.

'Protect. I have to protect. Don't- don't come here-!' he sends off, tail slowly moving downwards as he starts to feel the exhaustion in his bones. He slowly but surely moves around again on weak legs, laying down close to you as he leans his front legs over your body, licking your fur as if that would magically heal you.

'Wake up. Wake up. Wake up!' He chants over and over again, every word growing more and more high pitched and choked up as Taehyung lays down in sadness, feeling his brothers emotions full force, as well as everyone else who can't do anything but watch the young alpha fall apart. 'wake up..' he begs, burying his face into your bloody fur as he finally gives in. 'Please.. don't leave me.' are his last words, as his mind fades.

Jin is quick to shift, as well as Namjoon and Yoongi, who immediately move the larger and heavier wolf off of you, before Taehyung can take you away with Hoseok. Jungkook slowly shifts back unconsciously as they lay him on the couch, no one having enough energy to bring him upstairs. Jin tends to his wounds as Taehyung and Hoseok bring you up the stairs into yours and Jungkooks room, as you slowly shift, making Taehyung gasp as he now sees the extend of your injuries.

There are cuts and puncture wounds all over your skin, scratches and bruises already blossoming. Your leg is the worst, open flesh gaping as he has to swallow, telling Hoseok what he needs in order to tend to your injuries.

Moments later, Jin steps into the room as well, helping his younger omega brother to care for you the best that they could before an actual doctor could take a look at you tomorrow.

"She'd told us something was off." Namjoon said with his head hanging low, arms scratched and bleeding as he watches from the doorway. "I should've listened to her." He continues, before Jin cuts in, not looking at his alpha as he continues to wash you gently.

"Self-pity won't help anyone in this situation now, Namjoon." He says, no real bite in his tone as he keeps his voice gentle, exhaustion evident however. Taehyung helps him wring out the wet cloth he's using to clean your skin, as he continues. "Things happened, and now we have to deal with the aftermath. We'll get through this, but only if we don't loose our heads over this." He explaines, the image of the youngest alpha not leaving his mind. "It's bad enough we have two of us down- her and Jungkook." He explains, as Taehyung voices his worries as well.

"Do you think he'll snap out of it?" He asks, as Namjoon chimes in.

"He has to." He says, and Jin turns around for the first time, lower lip bruised from a cut he'd received.

"Namjoon, don't be so harsh on the kid-" He starts, but gets cut off by his leader.

"He's not a kid anymore Jin. He's a full grown alpha that needs to get himself together." He argues, as Taehyung starts to defend his brother.

"No, he's a boy who almost lost his girl tonight, have some common sense!" He whines out, a low growl hinting in his tone that catches Namjoon off guard. Even Jin seems surprised. "We all accepted it when you grieved. So let him heal as well- you can't expect something like this to just go past him." He explains, as the alpha sighs.

"I'm a horrible leader, am I not?" He asks, and Jin smiles along with Tae as he answers.

"No." He answers, with a comforting gaze. "Because you listen to your pack. And the best leaders do exactly that. They listen to their pack, learn from their mistakes, and admit them if they happen." He humms, before opening his small kit to get out some cotton balls and desinfectant.

Namjoon simply nods, hoping that his oldest Omega is right.

Jungkook awakes rudely from his dreamless sleep as he finds himself on the living room couch, dressed in comfortable clothes. For a moment he hopes everything had been a dream, but his aching bones and the mild smell in the air tell differently. He sits up, noticing the now cleaned living room, and the window that had been fixed with wooden planes for now. He can smell the rain outside as Jin steps down the stairs, locking eyes with Jungkook who immediately scrambles up, rushing towards him. "Where is she? Is she okay? She's okay right? She's fine right?" He rushes out, and watches past the eldest as Jimin thanks a stranger in a white coat and familiar hospital clothing. He doesnt listen to anybody as he moves past them upstairs, almost tripping as he opens the door to see you asleep underneath your covers, a butterfly stitch above your eyebrow. His eyes glaze over as his mind begins to fog, his feet moving him as if on autopilot as he walks towards you, unconsciously shifting.

Jimin wants to scold him to leave you alone, but the doctor shakes his head. Jungkook is so careful that even Yoongi who has joined the scene seems surprised. He moves as if you're made out of eggshells as thin as paper, carefully placing himself next to you above the covers Head resting on your stomach as he simply relishes in the mere fact that you're breathing. He barely fits on the bed made for two humans, but everyone lets him.

Jimin softly closes the door, before everyone walks downstairs.

"Is there anything we can do to help him?" He asks the doctor as he puts on his shoes. He sighes.

"Not much, I'd say, let him be close to her. It would only make them both more anxious if you keep them apart from one another." He explains, as Jimin and Yoongi bid the man goodbye and a safe trip home. Closing the door, Jin sighs, sitting down in the living room after folding the blanket Jungkook had slept under. Namjoon walks into the room, his arm still bandaged as he asks about the mated couple.

"Is he okay?" He asks, knowing about your condition already. "I've never seen him like that." He humms out, and Jimin shrugs.

"I don't think anyone ever has." He exclaims, and Namjoon nods, before taking the blanket from jin.

He carefully walks upstairs, opening the door of their room as Jungkooks ears perk up, the rest of him unmoving. The older alpha smiles sympathetically at his younger brother, closing the door behind him as he slowly walks towards them both. "Is that okay?" He asks carefully, as Jungkook simply closes his eyes again, a silent way of agreeing him this close. He drapes the blanket over the large black wolf, careful to tuck you underneath it as well as he sits down on the mattress, close to your hip. "She's gonna be okay." He said, as he looked at your sleeping form, Jungkooks head lifting itself to reposition. He sighed out a breath as the alpha chuckled. "Don't get huffy now pup. She's a strong one." Jungkooks eyes move to look at the elder one, and he sees something in it that Namjoon has not seen many times. Fear.

Namjoons eyes turn gentle as he looks at you for a moment, before he humms out. "You did well."

When you walk downstairs, the entire kitchen grows silent, and you look up to see them all looking at you. Jungkook starts to choke on his food as he coughs, legs of the chair he is sitting on scraping on the tiles as he rushes towards you, carefully taking you into his arms as he holds you close. He breathes in your scent as he suddenly chokes up, violent sobs shaking his shoulders as he cries against your neck, tearfully kissing your bonding mark as you simply pet his head, smoothing out his hair as you try to calm him down. The rest of the pack has a similar expression on their faces, as Jin stands up to get another set of dishes and cutlery for you. Jungkook helps you down the last two steps as he leads you towards the kitchen table, uncaring of his still tear stained face. He sniffles, and Taehyung gives him a napkin with a teasing grin. He simply takes it, wiping his nose before he grabs at your hip, setting you onto his lap as you try to sit down on your chair.

He doesn't continue eating as he simple rests the side of his head against your shoulder, holding you close as he breathes in your scent. His alpha slowly calms down as you eat and move around, proving to him that you were actually there, that you were alive and well enough for now.

ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ ɪs sᴀғᴇ.

You thank jin as he pours you a cup of tea, when you turn towards Namjoon. "How are the pups?" You ask, wondering where they are as Namjoon smiles proudly.

"They're safe, and asleep upstairs." He says, and you nod, taking a sip of the warm beverage. "Thank you, by the way." He says, and you raise your eyebrows. "You did very well Omega. They're only safe thanks to you, and I owe you everything for it." He grows serious as you chuckle.

"It's my part of the pack Namjoon." You explain as you pick up your cutlery to stuff some rice into your mouth that Jungkook didn't finish. "I did what I had to." He humms in appreciation, as Jungkook silently rubs his cheek against the fabric of your sweater, the scent sending him into a mindset of pure comfort. He doesn't listen to anything being said, and you simply rest a hand on his arms that held you close to him. He noticed how cold they are, and immediately scrambles a bit to remove his zip hoodie, uncaring that he's only wearing a T-Shirt underneath as he placed the warm fabric over your shoulders.

ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ ɪs ᴄᴏʟᴅ. ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ ɴᴇᴇᴅs ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴡᴀʀᴍ. ᴡᴀʀᴍ ᴀɴᴅ sᴀғᴇ.

You chuckle a bit at the gesture, and Taehyung does the same. "He's gonna be like that for quite a while I guess." Yoongi comments, eyes holding a soft look as he watches the young alpha with you.

Jimin smiles as well as he places some meat onto yours- or more like Jungkooks abandoned- plate which you thank him for. "Let him be. I can't imagine what he must've felt like." He says, as you nod, before taking another bite.

"Let's see how long it takes for Y/N to grow tired of that man-pup." Hoseok comments, making everyone snort but Jungkook, who lowly growls, without much seriousness behind him. It sounds more like.. he's offended. He looks over your shoulder at his pack, as they all start to laugh, you included.

The night is warm and cozy as Jungkook notices how you grow restless. You slowly gather pillows and sheets, blankets and clothing into the bed as he watches you tiredly. He wonders what you're doing for a moment, until he sniffs the air for a moment, eyes widening.

ᴘᴜᴘs. ᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴜᴘs. ᴡᴇ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ɪᴛ.

His alpha is proud, and his soul swells as well as he helps you nest, holds you close as he can't stop his smile. His palm rests protectively over your stomach during this night, as his alpha howls in happiness.

ᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ. ᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴜᴘs. ᴏᴜʀ ғᴀᴍɪʟʏ.

And Jungkook couldn't agree more with his alpha in that moment. He couldn't wait to complete his family.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts #bts fic #bts smut #jungkook imagine #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts reactions #alpha jungkook #abo dynamics #omega reader

2K notes · View notes

bluestmoons · 3 years

Text

@myloyalty didn’t know what she was giving me permission for

The first time Leonie saw Jeremiah again was at a rather droll meeting.

Though the voices of her superiors were wickedly boring and unspirited, their message was anything but. They were sharing intel on the platoon that’d recently ravaged the ghettos, and they were all attempting to put together ways to strike back effectively.

( This hardly ever worked. They were barely hanging on as was -- they simply didn’t have the time or resources to dismantle individual platoons. Still, extra information never hurt, did it...? )

Leonie was flipping through the profiles on a device before her, skimming faces, names, sparse bios with a spattering of their accomplishments, when...

Tanned skin. Curled, dark hair. Thin gold eyes that pierced even in a photograph. The words, above his picture: MARGRAVE GOTTWALD, JEREMIAH.

Her throat dropped through the floor.

No one noticed her sink entirely into herself as she met Jeremiah’s eyes for the first time since she’d been a teen. No one else saw the world fade to grays. Only her memories were in stunning color -- his red cheeks under the moonlight, his amber glance caught in a camera flash, his pink lips moving against hers, his pale face at the funeral, the last time she ever--...

No. God, no. No. Please.

It couldn’t really be him, could it?

The meeting ended, eventually, and Leonie sought the first empty room she could find. Her eyes swallowed the words as though she were a fish searching for water. Eldest son of--... In the Britannian army since--... Promoted on--... It was all matching up, too perfectly, and there was no denying that face. It was exactly the same expression he’d scowled at her with ever since their first meeting when she’d kissed his hand in his very own banquet hall.

It was a torrential downpour. A beginning that seemed to’ve already started, somehow, without her knowledge, perhaps many, many years ago. Leonie sobbed, wretchedly, openly like a starving babe, like an abandoned child, nothing at all like the warrior she’d long carved and crafted herself to be. Every memory, thought, feeling of him that was once held inside was suddenly at the forefront.

For the first time since she left him, Leonie let herself truly think of him.

No -- not see something that reminded her of him and immediately barricade the thought away. Not think she heard his voice, or saw his face, but abandon the consideration before her heart could even begin to ache. But think of him. Fully, and truly. Her and him grappling on the floor of the banquet hall, her in laughter. The two of them having a picnic beneath her mother’s window with stale bread in the middle of the night. The long battle at daybreak and him running desperately home. Him sweeping her across ballroom as elegantly as they were a natural pair that’d been training to dance with one another since birth. Her hand in his, and them knee-deep in pond water, and their first hug, with their clothes wet and foul-smelling, and him showing her how to aim a gun, and--

Where are you

Her last text to him. And -- and he was here!

God... God... of all the places in all of the world, why did he have to be here?

There was nothing beautiful or poetic about the way she crumbled that night, the way she screamed for the memory of a friend she’d thought she’d lost. Her face was coated in tears, snot, and she gasped and grappled with breath so long she was certain she’d stop breathing altogether.

They were on opposite sides of a war. A war she was truly committed to. And she recalled his stubborn gaze -- he would not back down from his side so easily. Especially with the handiwork she had just seen of him. God, to compare the young boy she knew with the man who left bodies of innocents strewn around... how could he! She was nauseated with the dissonance, had to bite on her fists to stave the bile.

Maybe she should run away again. For even were he to be wretched now, how could she raise her sword to him? He, who had once meant so much to her? How could she lose him, after...

“Is he okay?”

Her phone was tucked away before she slipped down into the opening, reached forward to link her fingers with the outstretched hand leaning back. “Certainly.”

“Are-- are you confident?”

“Undoubtedly so. He was far too coarse to be in any real danger.”

Alexei’s thin frame sighed in relief, and he looked genuinely soothed. “Thank God...”

How easily that outcome could’ve been different -- a few words from her, and his face would’ve twisted up in pain, eyes would’ve shined terror. But, no, it wasn’t just for memory of Alexei! Leonie could recall the way her own stomach flopped when she recognized the direction the assailants were coming from, when she waited for a return message. She’d felt faint with the thought that something could’ve happened.

She never would’ve considered that she’d be the thing that could--

If she weren’t careful, she would lose her stomach completely. She was far too warm, body ran clean with unbounding feeling.

... ... No. If Leonie ran away, someone else would certainly kill him in her stead. That would be no better than killing him herself. She had to do something. She had to do something--

For the first night, of course, she just cried. Hopeless, and aching, and shards of her soul splayed so open that she didn’t drift off for even a minute.

Her little outburst did not go unnoticed by the others in her company. They whispered of womanly hormones and chuckled to themselves. If Leonie were in any other mood, she’d’ve had a sharp remark and thwack upside the head for them. But -- no. It was better than the truth. Let them think of her as a raving woman until she could prove to herself that she wasn’t.

She worked herself harder than, perhaps, she should’ve in order to suffer through her feelings -- and to punish herself for her slip, of course. She wound her bandages tighter, she hit harder, she ran further. She’d run herself so ragged that emotions were the least of her concerns by the night the broadcast was on.

Jeremiah Gottwald -- because, of course, why wouldn’t it be him, right? -- was leading an honorary Britannian to a public execution and all of Japan and Britannia was watching. That smug expression, that confident stature... a rush of annoyance and a need to protect bubbled up within her, hand-in-hand.

God, she hated him.

And then, with the world as his audience, he did something completely unexpected.

He gave the young Japanese man being sent to his death back to the resistance. Leonie wasn’t the only one to watch in stunned shock, but she was very likely the only one to shed tears at his action. ( This time, she did knock sense into someone who dared to tease her for the display. ) What did this mean? Had he come to his senses? Was this a small act of rebellion, the only spot of himself he could force out?

What would happen to him now that he’d disobeyed Britannia so publicly, so obviously?

For starters, he was stripped of his title, hidden among the masses as a disgrace. As for what would come next -- she didn’t want to wait around to find out.

It took a great deal of convincing her superior, but she’d been a reliable fighter and had worked way through the ranks enough that her opinion held some weight, even though she was a foreigner. Finally he’d assented, sent her off with a small team and a wary gaze.

The world was warm, heady with rainfall that’d begin late in the night and was scheduled to continue well into the next few days. A perfect day for a kidnapping, Leonie mused, sullenly. If she was wrong -- if she’d misread that drastic flip in him -- he’d be furious with her.

Furious and alive, though, which was more than what she could promise with Britannia. Besides -- furious was like a default setting with him. He was always mad, wasn’t he...?

Jeremiah was in his office, in a rather secluded part of a government building, and his shadow was slow, still. Hopefully the concern wouldn’t rouse him too much -- just enough to stand, and exit. Leonie set up some gunmen in perches and had one of them call his last name in a desperate tone.

Curiosity appeared to eventually get the better of him, and he stumbled to his door and wandered into the hall. Oh God... his footsteps were dragging, sluggish. The ground didn’t even need to whisper it; she heard it. Drunk.

From a bannister, still, she sunk, dressed darkly and holding no weapon at the ready. Instead -- she stretched forward a hand.

“Jeremiah.” A gentle tone, kind, lulling. Her eyes shine easily -- a color and mischief that seemed to play that she’d had no feelings at all to wrestle through prior to their meeting here.

“I’m here to save you.”

#( the rising of. ) leonie.#( the lively lady. ) leonie.#( v. code geass. ) leonie.#i'm here to save you

354 notes · View notes

intheticklecloset · 3 years

Text

Rumor Has It (My Hero Academia)

One Shot

Shipping: SeroRoki

Summary: Rumor has it that Todoroki likes tickling. His boyfriend Sero decides to learn whether this is true, and if it is, to have a little fun with him.

A/N: Never, ever considered SeroRoki until these prompts came in. This was a different shipping to write for, but I had fun with it! I think it turned out really cute. Enjoy! ^^

Word Count: 1,164

~~~

“Hey, Shoto,” Sero said, coming around the couch in the living room, “can we cuddle for a while?”

Todoroki’s eyes had been fixed on the TV screen playing one of his favorite anime, but at his boyfriend’s words he looked up at him and smiled, holding out his arm. “Of course. Come here.”

Sero beamed, quickly getting into position as the little spoon on the couch with the icy-hot hero, snuggling against his chest with Todoroki’s arm wrapped around his shoulder. He sighed contentedly. He’d been waiting all day for the opportunity to cuddle with his boyfriend like this, and now that it was here, he couldn’t be happier. Though as one episode of the anime ended and another began, having Todoroki’s hands so close to some sensitive spots made him recall a conversation he’d had with Bakugou and Kirishima earlier that afternoon.

“Shoto?”

“Hmm?”

“I heard a rumor about you today.”

“Oh?”

Sero subtly repositioned one of his hands so it was resting closer to Todoroki’s ribs than his chest. “I heard you like tickling.”

Todoroki was silent for a moment, but Sero could feel his heart begin to beat faster. “Um…”

“I mean, I heard you like doing the tickling. Does that mean you want to tickle me and just haven’t told me?”

“Where did you hear this information?”

“You’re dodging the question.”

“So are you.”

Sero lightly pinched his boyfriend’s ribs. “Come on, Shoto. Tell me the truth. Do you want to or not?”

Todoroki jerked, eyes off of the TV and on his boyfriend now, suddenly realizing how trapped he was against the couch. He squirmed. “S-Sero, I…” Another tweak to his ribs pulled a giggle from him. “Plehehease, I don’t…dohohon’t knohohow how to answer thahat.”

“Answer it honestly, duh.” Sero was smirking now, admiring the way Todoroki’s face turned pink. He switched from pinching to consistent scribbling. “Don’t make me tickle it out of you.”

Todoroki whimpered, trying to grab Sero’s hand, but Sero quickly sat up and straddled him, using his tape to bind his boyfriend’s wrists together and hold them up out of the way as he lightly traced in his underarm, which he knew was a bad spot. “All right, you asked for it. Tickle, tickle, Shoto~”

Todoroki giggled helplessly. “Nohohohohohoho! Plehehehehease, whahahat do you wahahahant from me?!”

“Just tell me the truth, babe.” Sero grinned. “Do you like tickling? Do you want to tickle me?”

“I…I….p-plehehehehease, Sero, I cahahahahan’t…!”

“Sounds to me like the answer is yes. If it weren’t, you’d have said so by now. Unless…” The tape hero grinned like the Cheshire cat and leaned in close to Todoroki’s blushing face. “You like being tickled, and don’t want me to stop?”

Todoroki’s eyes widened, but then he squeezed them shut and shook his head. “Plehehehehease!”

“Well? Which is it, Shoto?”

“Please, I…I cahahahahan’t just s-sahahahahay it!”

“You’d better.” Sero bound his wrists to the armrest above his head with another piece of tape, then used both hands to dig into his exposed underarms.

Todoroki shrieked, laughed, and crumbled instantly. “NONONO OKAY OKAHAHAHAHAY I LIHIHIHIHIHIKE IT!! I LIHIHIHIHIKE TIHIHIHIHICKLING!!”

“Do you want to tickle me?”

Todoroki whined, biting his lip to try and keep the laughter in, but one teasing “coochie coo” from Sero and he gave in once more. “YEHEHEHEHEHES I WAHAHAHAHANT TO TICKLE YOHOHOHOHOHOU!! PLEHEHEASE, HANTA!!”

Sero slowed to a stop, lightly trailing his fingers up and down Todoroki’s sides as he caught his breath. “How long have you been hiding this from me?”

“I w-wahahahasn’t trying to h-hihide it from you. It just…n-nehehever came up, so…” Todoroki blushed so hard his face looked like a cherry. He averted his eyes. “I didn’t want you to think I was weird.”

“You’re not weird.” Sero stopped his tickling to grab Todoroki’s chin and force him to make eye contact again. “Actually, when I found out earlier today I was really excited. I don’t mind being tickled, and if tickling me makes you happy, then I’m happy to let you. To an extent.”

Todoroki couldn’t help but smile in relief. He tugged at his restraints. “Mind letting me go now?”

“Eager, are we?” Sero teased, but did as requested and unbound his boyfriend.

Todoroki brought his arms down and sat up, the anime on the screen long forgotten at this point. He looked at his boyfriend. “So who told you?”

Sero smirked at him. “Why don’t you tickle it out of me, babe?”

Todoroki’s eyes flashed with mischievous glee. He wasted no time shoving Sero down onto the couch in his place, straddling him and going for his sides and hips, pulling surprised, hysterical cackles from the tape hero. “All right, then. Tell me who ratted me out or I’ll tickle you until you’re begging me for mercy.”

“Ooh, sounds fun~” Sero teased through his giggles before Todoroki really went for it, digging in with a precision that made him toss his head back and shriek. “NAHAHAHAHAHA OKAY I’M SOHOHOHOHOHORRY!! I COHOHOHOULDN’T RESIHIHIHIST!!”

“Who told you?” Todoroki demanded playfully, and Sero could see even through his own squinty-eyed vision that his boyfriend was elated to be messing with him this way.

So he decided to resist as long as possible and let Todoroki have his fun. “I’LL NEHEHEHEHEHEHEVER TEHEHEHEHELL!!”

“As you wish.”

Ice cold fingers wormed their way across his tummy and into his belly button – one of his worst spots – and Sero absolutely screamed with laughter, arching his back and trying fruitlessly to push Todoroki away, but it was far too late for that now.

“Never is an awfully long time,” Todoroki teased easily, beaming down at his hysterical partner. “Think you can take it?”

“GAHAHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHOHOHO!!” Sero laughed, squirming uselessly under his weight. “YOUR FIHIHIHIHIHINGERS ARE COHOHOHOHOHOLD!!”

“Aww, does it tickle more that way?”

“YEHEHEHEHEHES!!”

“I’ll just keep doing it, then.” Todoroki poked a finger in Sero’s belly button and wiggled, marveling at how quickly his boyfriend dissolved into absolute hysterics from the simplest touch. “I wonder how long you can last~”

As it turned out, the answer was not very long, because within a minute of belly button tickling Sero was screaming the names of the people who had told him about Todoroki’s interest. “IT WAS KIRIEHEHEHEHEHEHE!! KIRI AND BAHAHAHAKUGOU!! PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE!!”

Todoroki scoffed. “I should have known. Oh, well. I suppose I should thank them, really.” He smirked, shoving Sero’s arms above his head and creating ice shackles to bind them to the couch. “Now I finally get to tickle you silly like I’ve always wanted to, baby.”

Sero’s eyes widened as he blushed. Todoroki never used pet names with him; he must really be loving this. He wasn’t sure how much he could take, but for his boyfriend’s sake, he was willing to find out. He smirked. “Well? I don’t think I’m silly enough yet, do you?”

Todoroki beamed at the provoking words, his fingers settling on his ribs and squeezing. “Don’t worry, my dear. You will be soon enough~”

#fanfiction #tickle fic #boku no hero #my hero academia #bnha #mha #shoto #todoroki #hanta #sero #seroroki #playful #teasing #cute #fluff #tickling #ticklish #tickle

148 notes · View notes

lightsovermonaco · 3 years

Text

His Good Sweater: Chapter 18

Masterlist

Thanks to @acollectionofficsandshit for being my bestie and beta reading! This would have never happened without her ❤ Make sure you read Roman Profile, set in the same universe!

Word Count: 7.6k

Abu Dhabi holds a special place in Pierre's heart. The food is great, the views are spectacular, and there is always plenty to do to keep him busy. Night races are some of the more exciting races too and Pierre appreciated the variety.

Coming into the final race of the season, Pierre holds on to seventh in the championship by a few points. Perez sensed the usurper creeping up on his seat and had cranked it up to eleven.

Exams had kept you in London for the race in Brazil, where Pierre had finished sixth and Checo DNF'd. You had managed to fly out for the weekend in Saudi Arabia, where Perez had finished fifth and closed the gap to Pierre to only four points behind.

If Pierre didn't finish ahead of Perez this weekend, he was fucked. And he was at the distinct disadvantage of his good luck charm being absent, stuck in London finishing up your final few exams of the semester. Two weeks without seeing you coupled with barely hearing from you had worn on him. It wasn't purposeful on your part but Pierre's stress was already compressed like the suspension on his car. Stray an inch too far over the racing line, hit a curb too hard and it was liable to snap, sending bits and pieces flying.

Pierre checks his phone for the millionth time as he waits to check in to the hotel. Wednesday was late for this many crew members to be arriving. His main concern though was that you hadn't responded to the text he'd sent you upon landing.

"Look lively, will you?" Max claps Pierre on the shoulder and he slides his phone into his pocket. "It's the last race of the season. We get to go balls to the wall and leave it all out in the track. And here you are looking like a kicked puppy."

"Easy for you to say," Pierre starts, grinning at his friend. "You clinched the title weeks ago. You don't even have to race this weekend if you don't want to and you'd still win."

"Doesn't mean I won't be shooting for a podium."

Pierre rolls his eyes. "Yeah well we can't all be so lucky, can we?"

"Next year you'll be playing with the big dogs." Max hands the receptionist his ID, says a few words and turns back to Pierre. "Looking forward to having you as a teammate again. It was fun for those couple races and I'm sure you'll be a challenge now that you've found your groove."

"You're gonna jinx it if you keep talking." Pierre laughs, praying that it covers up the old wound Max's statement picked open. Pierre hated the idea of moving back to Red Bull but he didn't have much choice. He was still contracted to one of four Red Bull branded seats for next season. A promotion, at the very least, would help him showcase his talent and further cement his value. If he had to spend any longer than that with the team, ripping out his hair was a real possibility.

"Wasn't someone supposed to be with you this weekend?" Max quirks a brow. "Where is she?"

"In London." Max bringing you up doesn't help the pit forming in Pierre's stomach. Win or lose, seventh or eighth, Red Bull or Alpha Tauri, come Sunday Pierre wanted you at his side. Interview requests were bound to roll in either way and Pierre would need someone to ground him, a task much easier to accomplish if you were physically at his side.

"Too bad." Max clicks his tongue and takes his room keys from the receptionist. "It's gonna be a fun weekend."

"I don't think-"

Pierre's vision goes dark at the same time someone whispers, "Guess who?"

Pierre sucks in a breath, spins on his heel and wraps you in a hug in one smooth motion. You laugh as he lifts you off your feet and presses kisses to your cheeks.

"What are you doing here?" He grabs both suitcases and tugs you aside. His room can wait.

"Tost asked me to come." Your grin is contagious, its twin appearing on Pierre's own cheeks. "He said that since you were flying out from Milan on your own there was an extra seat on the jet, so if I got myself to Nice I could fly out with the Red Bull boys."

"Seven hours trapped in a tin can with Max, Yuki and Checo?" Pierre rubs his chest. "I've got heartburn just thinking about that."

"It wasn't so bad," you say, finally giving him a proper kiss. "Yuki and I just played games on our phones the whole time. And I beat Max at Scrabble."

"How many Dutch words did he try to use?"

"Mmm, about half the words he tried were definitely not English."

"Yep, sounds about right." Pierre throws an arm around your shoulders and leads you back to the reception desk. He pays for an upgraded room when you aren't looking- though when you're assigned a suite there's not much higher you can go- and slips the woman behind the counter an extra bill for good measure.

"I could use a nap," you note, leaning against Pierre like you'd otherwise fall over. "I didn't get much sleep last night."

Pierre checks his watch. "We've got time for a nap."

"We?" Your raised eyebrow is question enough. Pierre smiles and swipes his key card once you're in the elevator with him. He hadn't looked at the price of the room but he was positive it was more than he'd spent on a single night in his entire career, considering it occupies an entire floor of the swanky hotel.

"It's date night," Pierre says simply. Initially his plan had been to invite Charles over for a game of Fifa but the Monegasque wouldn’t fault him for cancelling at the last minute. "We're in one of the most luxurious cities in the world and I'm going to show you off every chance I get. The restaurant down stairs is to die for."

Your attempt at nodding along with what he says is thwarted by a yawn. "Sleep first, eat later." Seeing as it was impossible to deny you, Pierre simply drops a kiss to the crown of your head.

"Wait until you see our room." The way your eyes light up when he says our room makes him want to say it again and again just to see you sparkle.

"I know you upgraded it, Mr. I-think-I'm-sneaky." You uncurl yourself from against his arm when the elevator chimes. "How much did it cost?"

"A few extra pennies."

The stainless steel doors open directly into the suite. The living space is dominated by a curving crescent of full length windows overlooking the cerulean harbor and the jagged steel of the city skyline beyond. Suitcase forgotten, your jaw drags along the floor as you toe off your shoes in favor of sinking onto one of the half moon couches situated around a low coffee table.

"Did you get some sort of bonus you didn't tell me about?" Pierre sees your inner engineer cataloging the chandelier dripping crystals over the carved dining table and the pattern of the black veined marble flooring. "This cost more than a few pennies."

"I didn't really look at the price so it's possible," he admits. In the end it was worth it to see you like this, happy as a pig in mud. Pierre was in his element at the track you were in yours in beautiful buildings. For all Pierre cared you could be sharing a dingy room at a motel; it would still be five star worthy with you there.

Every once in a while though, you deserve a bit of pampering for all you put up with. Late nights and months apart wasn’t easy on either of you, but you stuck by him. And when the day comes that Pierre retires or loses his seat, you would be the one there to comfort him. Spending frivolous amounts of money to see you smile was nothing in the grand scheme of things.

In Pierre’s world, money is temporary, you are forever.

"Well I have half a mind to tear into you for spending so much on a room we won't spend all that much time in," you start, your star-speckled gaze landing on Pierre, "the view is too pretty to be upset about."

"Mine isn't half bad either." You laugh, tucking an errant hair behind your ear. You both know he isn’t referring to the glittering bay or the expensive furnishings.

"Up," Pierre demands softly, holding out his hand. Your hand is warm and dwarfed by his long fingers but you barely seem to notice. The heart in his chest pounds for no discernable reason as he leads you down the narrow hall past doors leading to what he can only assume are bedrooms and bathrooms, to the one at the end of the hall. Based on his mental floor plan this one has the best view, if he's guessed correctly.

Your breezy oh confirms his hunch. You stutter at the threshold, coming up short behind him to bathe in the beauty of the sea, dotted through with white sails. Sunlight twinkles off the waves and if he breathes deep enough, he can almost smell the salt.

"Come on," Pierre says with a chuckle, urging you to fall into the fluffy down of the bed with him. You follow reluctantly, too enamored by the sights to pay any real attention to how Pierre arranges your limbs to his liking, your head resting on his chest and your joined hands laying atop his stomach.

"How about that nap?" He murmurs, running the fingers of his free hand through your unbound hair.

You sigh and snuggle in closer. It was rare that Pierre had the opportunity to steal moments like this during a race week, when he had nothing better to do than tangle himself in you.

"I'll tell you a story."

Just as he expected, you leap at the offer. "Can you tell me the one about the time you and Charles got in trouble when you were karting?"

Normally he opts for something fictional that allows him to embellish the details to fit his narrative. Pierre loved spinning tales rife with laughter and intrigue but he also didn't mind indulging your curiosity.

"Yeah, I can tell that one. Let me set the scene. It's midnight on a Friday at a little track outside Rouen. Two gangly teenage boys, one French and one definitely, positively not French, have nothing better to do than get themselves in trouble…"

**********

Fans began whispering when Pierre set foot in the lobby. The price of stardom was high and had taken years to get used to. Some days the bombardment of people asking for photos and autographs overwhelmed him to the point he was desperate for an out. Most people respected his boundaries and when they sensed it was too much, they backed off. Other days it was simply too much and he would mumble excuses and book it out the door.

The pressure increases tenfold when he steps into the lobby with you on his arm, the pair of you dressed to the nines. He clocks a group of women- clearly tourists based on their body language- perched on a sofa the minute their low murmurs turn into excited squeals.

Pierre mentally braces for you to stiffen or stop altogether but you do neither. You carry on unaffected, either ignoring them or completely oblivious to the women who do nothing to hide their pointed stares.

"Table for two please." You smile at the restaurant host and then at Pierre. You must not have noticed the fans then. You were getting better at coping with the photos and whispers, although your smile usually became forced the longer it dragged on, the polar opposite of you currently beaming at him.

Pierre's shoulders sag a bit when you're led to a secluded table towards the rear of the dining space. Privacy wasn't a luxury he was often afforded. With his back to a wall of windows, there were fewer angles for people to approach from which was a small comfort.

Apparently you find sitting across from Pierre unacceptable because you shuffle your chair to his side of the table before plopping down in it. Pierre shoots you a questioning look but keeps his mouth shut. Inquiring after your motives didn't tend to end well for him.

Instead he leans over to kiss your cheek, relishing the blush his lips coax to the surface.

“It all sounds good,” you say, scanning the menu. “You’ve been here before, I take it?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah I have. It’s all wonderful.”

The fans from the lobby remain in the blurred fringes of his vision. Pierre does his best to focus on the waitress explaining the specials. He tunes in automatically to the fan’s heavily accented English as they argue with the host, vying for a table as close to Pierre as possible.

Their phones remain out as an annoyed waiter tries and fails to coax the gaggle of girls into ordering something. Pierre drags a hand through his hair.

Being the center of attention usually doesn't bother him. Coping with the spotlight and the scrutiny that accompanies it is second nature; if the press conferences at Spa in 2019 had taught him anything, it was the importance of a solid poker face. Fame is new to you though and interactions with polite fans make you nervous. Having your picture taken without permission and splashed on social media? Forget about it. Pierre didn't care to find out how you'd react.

"Don't be nervous." You lay a hand on Pierre's thigh. The touch is enough to temporarily pause his bouncing leg. "You're going to do amazing this weekend. All you have to do is finish in front of Checo and you're golden."

How you haven't noticed the girls giggling mere yards away is beyond him. The last thing he wants to do is ruin this perfect, beautiful moment of bliss. You look gorgeous with your painted lips and that sinful black dress that he doubts can be comfortable based on how it hugs your curves like water. To top it off, the pride in your gaze is something to behold, making it impossible to doubt himself when you so clearly and openly believe he can conquer the world.

But it's better to tell you now versus you finding out on social media later. "That's not what's bothering me."

"Oh?" You sit straighter and set the menu down. "What is it then? Because if it's Horner, I have no problem marching in there and chewing him out. Birdy will back me up."

Despite himself, Pierre can't hold back his smile. "Where did all this confidence come from, hmm?"

"I'm learning," you insist, nodding your head firmly. "I'm growing as a person and you should be proud."

"I never said I wasn't." Maybe you'd spent the last month at university interacting with racing fans on campus. Perhaps being exposed to endless questions in a setting you controlled was the key. "Did you take a course in confidence at university?"

You scrunch up your nose and laugh in the most adorable way. Pierre's heart lurches at the sight, regardless if it was him you were laughing at.

"No, but I did make a few new friends that have a habit of pestering me about you." You jab a finger in his side for good measure. "It helped, I think. I don't look for cameras as much anymore. You're my focus now, not paps that may or may not be lurking in bushes."

"I knew it." Pierre is slightly impressed that he'd hit the nail squarely on the head. "I figured there had to be someone at uni responsible for helping you out."

You shrug and purse your lips. "I guess we'll have to see how I handle this weekend. I mean, there's bound to be press trying to corner me, what with the stakes and all. But I think I can take them." You raise your fists in front of your face and Pierre has to laugh.

“Throw a punch like that and you’ll break a finger.” He takes one of your clenched fists in his and untucks your thumb from under your fingers. “That’s how you make a proper fist. And you hit with these knuckles here- make sure you distribute the blow across all four, or you’ll be hurting.”

“Regardless,” you say, jabbing the air a few times, “The shock factor of having little old me in their face ought to be enough to earn me an advantage.”

Pierre finishes the lap to circle back to the topic at hand. "How about we test your confidence?”

"Okay," you say, dragging out the 'a' until it hangs in the air between you like a spider's web.

Pierre rakes a hand through his hair and nods to the girls a few tables away. "They've been taking pictures since we sat down. I'm sure they'll be all over Instagram in an hour, if they aren't already."

You steal a glance at the table in question under the guise of grabbing something from your purse. You hum, contemplating how to go about responding. Pierre is almost certain you'll ask to head back upstairs where it's just the two of you, no cameras or outside influence to ruin your night. His wallet is already out under the table, ready to leave a hefty tip for putting up with your drink-and-dash.

“We aren’t doing anything interesting,” you point out, swirling the knuckle’s worth of whiskey in your glass. “Why do they feel the need to document every passing second?”

Pierre lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “It’s just what some people do. If you’re uncomfortable we can go.”

“Who said anything about leaving?” You scoff, the corners of your lips turned up in a teasing smile. “I figure the best course of action is to give them something worth photographing.”

“What do you-”

Pierre’s yelp is decidedly unsexy when you yank him forward by his tie and attach your lips to his. Caught entirely off guard, he flounders for a moment before he catches himself and sinks into you. One hand on your cheek and the other creeping up your thigh, Pierre slides his tongue over the seam of your lips. You don't hesitate to obey the silent command.

He should be embarrassed. He should be contemplating the consequences of this kiss being splashed across tabloids the world over. He can’t bring himself to care, not when you’re the only release he needs and something as simple as a kiss sets his skin alight and causes any sane thoughts to trickle from his head.

Nothing matters. You're kissing him and your hand is a few inches below his hip on his right thigh, burning a brand that he prays leaves a puckered pink scar. Your scent and your mouth and your unmistakable hiss of pleasure saps the worry from his limbs. He's floating up off his chair, lungs filling with helium as you steal every last molecule of oxygen from the room.

Just like that, Pierre is the one that's roaring to leave for an entirely different reason.

Your hand on his jaw keeps your lips a hair's breadth apart as you whisper, "Are they staring?"

A blissed out nod is all he manages. Thoughts evade him and speaking is utterly out of the question when your lips are within striking distance. He surges forward for another kiss, heavier on teeth than on tongue. He makes sure to hold your lower lip between his teeth longer than necessary, putting on a show now that you've given him permission.

"Pierre," you murmur, using the hand splayed on his chest to push him away. The whine that escapes him is wholly unintentional. Thankfully it's low enough that only you hear, pressing a finger to your sinful lips.

"Down, boy." You extricate his hand from the dimpled flesh of your hip and place it chastely in his own lap. "We've accomplished what I wanted to."

Saying you tossing a wink over your shoulder at the intrusive fans isn't the hottest thing he's ever seen would be a lie. Pierre needed to be sure to thank Daniel's girlfriend the next time he saw her for whatever the hell she said to finally bestow you with a healthy serving of self-assurance because this new you is an entirely different entity, one Pierre intends to explore at the next opportunity.

"Problem solved." You brush your hands together and Pierre half expects to see dust clouds in the air like you'd just finished a woodshop project.

Pierre's brain is operating on a ten second delay. So really, normal operating procedure when he was in your vicinity. "I don't think we've accomplished everything I'd like to get done."

"We have a dinner to finish first." You pick up your menu and resume browsing like you hadn't just forcibly ripped his appetite for anything other than you right out of him. "The salmon sounds good, don't you think?"

"You sound good," Pierre mumbles under his breath and picks up his own menu. God, he'd love to let his fingers drift to the apex of your thighs. You’re always cute when you squirm. It was so simple to do too, all you needed was a brush of his knuckle to your center and you'd be gasping.

"Are you ready to order?"

The soft-spoken waitress bursts Pierre's bubble. She brings fresh drinks and jots down an order of two salmon fillets and leaves with a smile.

How Pierre has managed to make it this long without fucking you is beyond him. From the moment you surprised him in the lobby, his limbs have been thrumming with energy. And now your surprise kiss had been the pebble that preceded an avalanche of feverish longing. Those red painted lips would look better wrapped around his-

The pointed toe of your shoe digs into his calf. "Quit staring."

"Either you let me daydream or you let me take you upstairs,” Pierre quips back, licking his lips before he can catch himself.

"Can we get through one date without you mentally undressing me?"

Pierre dips his grin in a vat of lust, his words dripping with waxy promise. "No. Not when I know that as soon as we're alone, you'll let me do what I want."

"And what about what I want?" Your pouted lip does absolutely nothing but push his mind further in the gutter.

"Your wish is my command." His hand floats under the hem of your dress to graze along your core. And there it is, that sound he would swim across oceans to hear, your chastizing gasp of surprise.

The cross way you whisper his name is a thing of dreams. No one else's name sounded like that on your tongue, that honor is reserved solely for Pierre. The two breathless syllables are more exhilarating than standing on the top step. The rush of adrenaline that accompanies them is ten times what he is rewarded with when passing a world champion on track. He'll give it all up to hear you repeat it when you're pissed or lonely or tired- he just wants your voice echoing in his ears like a broken record.

You move his hand a safe distance down your thigh, nearly at your knee. Pierre gives your leg a sharp squeeze. "Can we please get our dinner to go?"

"Not tonight. You can wait, mon amour."

The French rolls off your tongue awkwardly but Pierre will be the last to complain. Your encyclopedic knowledge of which buttons to press when had come back to bite him in the ass.

"That's not fair." His pout is a mirror image of the one you turned on him earlier. "You can't use my own language against me."

You pat your pockets as if searching for something and shrug when you come up empty. "I don't see a rulebook anywhere."

Reminding you what happens when you tease him shoots to the top of his to do list. "I'll play if you wanna play, ma chérie. Don't bite off more than you can chew."

"I think you're forgetting who usually wins off track."

Pierre can't help it. He takes advantage of his superior reflexes and surges forward to claim another searing kiss. You did normally win and it wasn't for lack of trying on his end. No matter the tactic he employed, you generally got the better of him. Not that he minded.

"Why don't you come here?" He purposely grazes his lips to your ear as he speaks and grins when a shiver runs down your spine.

"Because we are in public," you hiss back, though the way your head tips to the side betrays you. Pierre's nose touches the underside of your jaw and you struggle to find your breath.

"We should eat." A self satisfied smile splits his face when he notices your heaving chest and wild eyes.

"When did our food get here?" Pierre did that. He got you so worked up that you blocked out your surroundings so thoroughly that you hadn't heard the clink of plates. Pierre wears that fact like a badge of honor.

"A minute or so ago. Remind me again who's winning?"

"We may be even," you relent, adjusting the skirt of your dress. Yeah, even isn't the word he would pick, considering how flustered you are. It's a good thing Pierre has learned to eat with one hand because he doesn't plan on moving the arm currently slung over the back of your chair anytime soon. His finger traces the letters of his name on the bare skin of your shoulder. Whether you realize what he's writing or not you lean into him as you eat, falling in closer with each lemon-scented bite.

"Excuse me?"

You don't bother to look up but Pierre does. Disappointment washes over him when he is met by one of the fans, apparently deeming now to be the appropriate time to approach him, while clearly on a date, in the middle of a meal.

"I'll be happy to take a photo once I'm done." Sometimes passive aggressiveness works best with people like this, who have no regard for personal space. "Right now I would prefer to be alone, thanks."

"Oh, right." The blonde giggles, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "You two make a… cute couple?" The end of her sentence turns up and your fork falls to your plate.

Pierre tucks you a little closer to his side, both possessive and reassuring. "We know."

Your discomfort is plain, the way you curl in on yourself making his heart hurt. But you surprise him by taking a deep breath and turning to the woman with a smile.

"If you'd let us finish our meal, I would appreciate it. We can stop by on our way out and chat with you." Sylvie would be proud of that answer. Diplomatically phrased and said with a smile that negates any negative connotations.

"Of course." The blonde's smile is sickly sweet. To Pierre she adds, "Good luck on Sunday."

Pierre nods. The woman's rude behavior didn't warrant a verbal response. She mumbles a feeble goodbye before slinking back to her friends. If nothing else at least their whispers died down, put out by his behavior.

Pierre loves his fans. Without them he wouldn't have a sport to compete in, and of course he appreciated their endless support. Stopping for photos or autographs had gotten him in trouble with Marko multiple times for being late to meetings that usually turned out to be pointless anyway. As a whole, their enthusiasm gives him an extra boost on Sundays and lifts his spirits after a bad weekend.

And then sometimes there were people like the blonde woman that had interrupted his dinner. Those people he has far less tolerance for. Basic manners were imperative to Pierre giving someone the light of day, otherwise he saw no need to waste time and energy on them.

"All good, ma chérie?" Pierre rubs your shoulder, hoping it'll stave off any anxiety.

"I'm good," you confirm with a nod of your head. "Let's finish up and go to our room."

Pierre presses a kiss to your temple and scarfs down the remainder of his meal in record time. He flags down the waitress and hands her his card, leaving a substantial tip when she returns with the check.

“Can you distract that table?” Pierre asks, aware of how unusual the request likely is. “I’d like to get out of here without making a scene.”

“Of course,” the waitress says with a warm, sincere smile. Pierre waits until she loudly announces, “Excuse me? Your card has been declined, do you have another method of payment?”

Neither of you can contain your laughter as you stumble through the lobby. In the sanctity of the elevator, Pierre wraps his arms around your middle and molds himself against you. "You look especially gorgeous tonight."

"You're not too bad yourself." One of your hands finds the nape of his neck, guiding his face to the crook of your shoulder. Pierre takes the invitation at face value and nips at the sensitive skin. Your hum goes straight to his cock, twitching against the swell of your ass.

"I win," you purr, tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging.

For once Pierre is glad to be in the world's slowest elevator. Since he's already lost, he might as well lose in style. He spins you to face the mirrored wall. And because he knows it'll make you tremble, he trails his hand lazily over your throat to grip your jaw.

A low moan leaves your parted lips. Pierre studies your reflection, from your hands gripping the railing to the skin dimpling beneath his fingers.

"Fine, you win this time. But I think you and I both know, I'll come out ahead in the end."

**********

Waking up to soft kisses will never get old. Thirty years from now when Pierre was retired and you fell asleep each night with his arms around you, you'd still yearn for the brush of his lips to your cheeks, neck, and shoulders to rouse you from the violet shores of sleep.

"Good morning," you mumble, a sentiment which Pierre echoes with his gruff, sleep tinged voice. "Sleep well?"

"Best sleep I've ever gotten. You tired me out last night." You both grin at the reminder. Fueled by a slight tinge of jealousy after the women at the restaurant made eyes at him, you had refused to let him tumble into bed until well past midnight, when you both were well and truly exhausted. Thursday is press day, nothing strenuous that he couldn't afford to be a little sore for.

Pierre rolls to straddle your hips, lips capturing yours for a proper kiss. The taste of freshly brushed mint makes your skin tingle when he tugs your lip between his teeth.

"It's too early for that." You throw your arms around his neck and urge him to bend his elbows until he falls atop you. It takes him a moment to snuggle in, his head on your chest and his arms sliding under your middle.

You're convinced that ten minutes in this position can cure any ailments, physical or mental. The weight of your soulmate pressing into you, forcing you to focus on breathing instead of whatever might be bothering you. It's easy to forget about the outside world when everything you require to be happy is wrapped around you like a blanket.

You stroke a hand over Pierre's hair until his breathing evens out, only rousing him when the sun peeks over the harbor. Amiable silence fills the space as hues of orange and pink paint Pierre in swaths of color. Suddenly you're seeing him for the first time, completely enamored by the angles of his cheekbones and the sharp cut of his stubbled jaw. The golden hour of dawn shines on it's golden boy, his lashes brushing his cheeks as he turns towards the warmth calling him home.

"Pyry and I are going for a run soon if you'd like to come with us."

You cringe. Running used to be fun when you were in school, but seeing as you hadn't properly trained in years you doubted you could keep up with a pair of professionals. "How about you text me when you're back and I'll come to the gym with you? It looks fancy, if George's snaps are anything to go by."

Pierre trails kisses up your sternum, over your neck and only speaks once he's reached your lips. "Looking at other men, are you?"

"Shut up," you laugh, shoving him off you. "I'll have you know it was a rare shirt on picture, thank you very much. I don't need to see George shirtless ever again."

A satisfied, "Good," rumbles from Pierre's chest and he stands to stretch the lingering sleep from his limbs. Clad in nothing but a pair of white four inch inseam shorts and with his back to you, you grin as an idea forms. You scramble forward before he can process you moving and smack his ass so hard he yelps.

"Gotcha!" You devolve into a fit of giggles as he rubs the spot you hit, whining about you taking advantage of his distraction.

"You like it," you tease, and Pierre remains strictly pouty for two whole seconds before he breaks into a grin and nods. "Now put on a shirt and get downstairs before Pyry calls you and you get reamed for being late again."

Pierre leans down for one last kiss before rushing off to the lobby. Waking up before the sun leaves you plenty of time to laze about if you choose to. Kicking your butt into gear seems like the better option so you drag yourself out of the relative warmth of the sheets and shuffle to the kitchen in search of coffee.

Apparently the suite came fully stocked with a handful of different freshly ground blends, and much to your delight you recognize one of your favorites. You scroll through the room service menu on your phone while it brews. Without a doubt Pyry would rope you in to whatever workout he had planned for Pierre, albeit giving you a watered down version of what he gave the driver. Regardless, it would still be grueling and you needed to fuel up.

A hearty breakfast of fresh fruit and cinnamon sugar oatmeal shows up at your door ten minutes later. You're just finishing up when Pierre's snapchat comes through and you nearly choke.

Come on down baby

The sweaty, shirtless selfie that accompanies the caption is wholly unnecessary. Pierre's stupid tongue sticks out and the fingers of one hand are tangled in his hair. The muscle of his bicep is perfectly flexed, an obvious but appreciated attempt to rile you up. You shamelessly screenshot the photo before it disappears to save it for later.

You change into a simple set of leggings and a loose t-shirt and head to the elevator, curating your music queue on the way down.

The outdoor gym overlooks a pool of the same crystalline blue as the sea not far beyond. A few Alpha Tauri and Red Bull team members you recognize occupy a handful of machines. You wave at the ones you recognize, including Alana- she was a sight for sore eyes. You make a mental note to catch up with her at some point today, as you're sure to cross paths again.

Pyry spots you before Pierre does and waves you over. "Start stretching," the fin orders, "I'm glad you dressed for the occasion this time."

"I've learned my lesson." You plop down next to Pierre and lean into a stretch to stage whisper, "He drives you this hard?"

"Get used to it." Pierre shoots you a grin that sets you on fire. He's got a shirt on now, which means he only took it off earlier to send you that snap. Tease.

Any other time you'd chide him for his behavior but this weekend you let it slide. Tension has been brewing since the moment you spotted him across the lobby; simple things tip you off to the stress winding up in him. If flirting could offer him a small amount of release, then so be it, even if it was torturous for you to see him like this and be unable to do anything about it.

"If you two can't get through this without making heart eyes at each other I'll separate you," Pyry warns, pushing at your shoulders and helping you stretch a few more inches. You hide your wince and laugh, leaning into the slight burn.

"Sorry coach," Pierre chimes in, "I'll keep my hands to myself, don't worry." He accepts Pyry's hand to be pulled to his feet. Bouncing on his toes he throws a few punches at the air and catches your gaze over his trainer's shoulder.

"Definitely not you I'm worried about."

As Pyry says it, you blow Pierre a kiss. You quickly tuck your hands behind your back when Pyry's head whips around. Your cheshire grin gets you off the hook and Pyry just points to the stationary bike in silent command. At least he was going easy on you.

Headphones pumping a Pierre curated playlist, you lose track of time as you cycle mile after mile. Pierre sparring on the fringes of your vision helps distract you from burning muscles. Sweat soaks his black tee and is absorbed by the waistband of his oddly patterned orange and white shorts. No matter how incessantly you tease him for his fashion choices, he never fails to amaze you for how well he pulls it all off.

Lost in the music and the incredible view, it takes you a moment to realize Pierre's lips aren't just moving silently. You yank out an ear bud and blubber, "What did you say?"

Pierre's breathless laugh is accompanied by a shake of his head. He half curls in on himself, hands on his hips and mouth agape as he tries to catch his breath. The image stirs memories of the last night, when he was panting just like that but with nothing obscuring you from drinking in his godlike muscled body.

"I said," Pierre starts, walking over to kiss your cheek, "I need a shower before press. I'm going upstairs. You can stay here and Pyry can take you through some more-"

"No thanks!" Pyry shrugs off your immediate refusal. Training top tier athletes and training you sat at polar opposite ends of the spectrum and often times the Fin pushed you farther than you thought capable. You'd like to be able to function tomorrow, thank you very much.

The elevator ride to the suite is filled with salted kisses and wet touches. A breadcrumb trail of clothing leads from the stainless steel doors to the glass encased shower. There's not enough time to worship Pierre like you'd wanted to but he sighs when you run a soapy cloth over his body. Your lips follow the suds, leaving light kisses to the tender muscles. By the time you pour shampoo in your palm and lightly scratch at his scalp to work it into a lather, he's practically purring.

Media appearances are a necessary part of being a driver. Pierre usually handled them well enough on his own and occasionally with Sylvie's help when she could be bothered to get off her phone for a few minutes, but having you with him is different. You pride yourself on reading him well enough to know exactly what he needs. Some days, when the press isn't a pack of rabid animals, he returns to his driver's room and needs nothing more than a quick kiss to have him righted. On days when the pack of piranhas descend to feast on the bones of a bad session or the whispering of drama, a delicate touch is required.

If your suspicion proves right, today would be the latter. Being ahead of the frenzy might take the edge off when Pierre got in the thick of it.

When the tap cuts off, you step out and wrap Pierre in a fluffy towel. His smile communicates how grateful he is- and that he knows what you're doing.

You hand him a stack of Alpha Tauri branded clothes and sit on the foot of the bed. "Do you want me to come to the paddock with you?"

Pierre pauses with his shirt half on. "If you don't mind."

"Of course I don't mind." You pluck a few of his rings from the nightstand and hold out your hand. "You have to complete the look."

"What would I do without you," he murmurs, slipping one on his pinky and one on the thumb of his opposite hand.

"Probably be ridiculed for your lack of fashion sense."

**********

As a driver's girlfriend, you had come to grips with being relegated to a background role when it came to team events. You have to ask Sylvie to repeat herself twice before her words sink in.

"Come with me to the media pen," the woman grits out. Apparently Tost intended to have some fun torturing the woman before he fired her at the end of the season. Hopefully whoever Pierre got stuck with next was a bit more personable than Sylvie.

"Pierre told me to wait here," you say, gesturing to the garage buzzing around you. You were a rock and the mechanics were the stream, parting around you without a care in the world. You were barely a blip on their radar, everyone too honed in on their tasks to pay you any mind.

"And now I'm telling you to come with me. The other wives and girlfriends are in attendance and it'll look odd if you're not there too." Clearly, Sylvie didn't like the idea. And any idea that pissed Sylvie off sounded like a good one.

"I know the way," you say and breeze past her. Your feet follow the familiar path to the cluster of reporters crowded around metal gates, keeping the drivers in like caged animals. It was fitting, considering how often people referred to the sport as a traveling circus.

Pierre is already knee deep in an interview with one of the more popular journalists in the bunch, Will Buxton. Careful to stay out of the lens, you lean against the guardrail to listen in. So far it seems to be going well, Pierre's laugh brings a smile to your face.

"So, Pierre." Will shifts on his feet, pausing to create a sense of drama. "Your seat for next year. We know you'll be in Alpha Tauri or at Red Bull. Only a few points separate you from being demoted right back to eighth in the championship, which would officially relegate you to keep your seat at Alpha for the upcoming season. Are you worried about a mechanical problem or an accident stripping you of your chance to prove yourself and leaving you stuck where you are?"

Your stomach sinks. Buxton knew how to phrase a question, you had to give him that. Each word had been carefully chosen to elicit an emotional response from Pierre. You hate seeing him backed into a corner, forced to answer the same questions again and again, helpless to prevent it.

"Well first of all I'd like to stay that I'm not stuck at Alpha." Pierre shifts his weight and you exhale. Buxton's poisoned dart had missed its mark.

"Given a few years of development I know we could have a really competitive car. But it's more so that I'm ready to move up, fight with the leaders now instead of waiting. I'm in my prime and I don't want to let that pass me by.

"So no, I'm not worried about things that are out of my control. My team has given me an amazing car this year and I'm not concerned about mechanical problems. Things out of my control aren't worth my energy. There's nothing I can do about it so I don't even give it thought. I'll focus on my driving and pushing my limit- if an accident happens, I'm just a passenger."

"Well said." Buxton nods and turns away, effectively dismissing Pierre. As soon as he's out of the camera's view he's reaching for you and you meet him halfway. Sylvie trails after you as Pierre leads you through to the Alpha garage.

"Five minutes until your briefing," Alana says the second you enter. "And hey girl. Don't think I've forgotten about that sweater I loaned you. I still want it back!"

Your friend doesn't leave any room for rebuttal before heading for the conference room, presumably to set up whatever presentation she had created. Sylvie had disappeared too, leaving you as the only one for Pierre to focus on.

"You think I can do it?" He asks quietly, playing with your interlaced fingers.

"I don't think." You tilt his chin up so he's looking at you. "I know. And I'll be right here when you cross that line on Sunday and bring home points. You've got this, baby. Don't doubt yourself now."

"Pierre!"

Your grip on his chin prevents him from following the voice, not that he would if he could. You shoot him a raucous grin, "Red Bull colors would look pretty good on me, huh?"

Pierre's smile is brighter than all the stars in the sky. "Anything with my name on it will do.”

@seasidetom @flashcal @limp-wrist-max @sunshinesewis @lifeofzoemichael @ninuffi @perfectfantasies22 @lamboleglerg @ladyperceval @0forgottenparadise0 @evie-pr @avsensio @ninuffi @lu-morningstar @ggaslyp1 @swiftyhowlz @xeniarocks @teenwaywardasgardian @saintandrea-droidsmuggler

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future updates!

#pierre gasly #pierre gasly fanfiction #formula 1 fanfiction #formula 1 fantasy #formula 1 #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 fic #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 rpf #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 fic #f1 fantasy #f1 imagine #f1 rpf #f1 #reader insert #pierre gasly x reader #his good sweater

109 notes · View notes