#he’s never been on his own with this much responsibility before

[of-many-fandomss]

Three times Charles or Max pined for you and the one time they finally did something about it?

Puppy

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader

Warnings: slight cursing

A/N: please don’t judge this, it’s been a hot minute since I’ve written anything

Word count: 1.4k

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

“Charles? Mr. Leclerc?”

It wasn’t the voice that roused the driver from being trapped in a loop of thoughts within his own mind, it was the gentle but firm nudge against his arm.

His head snapped to the side, his eyebrows up and eyes slightly wide, “Huh?” He breathed out in confusion.

Carlos smirked a bit at his frazzled teammate, “They’re talking to you.”

Charles’s gaze finally floated to the ground below the stage he was sitting upon, where people were sitting in a line, looking up at him expectantly.

He shook his head slightly, lifting his microphone off of his lap and lifting it to his lips, “Sorry, what was that?”

The man that had been asking the question for the press conference looked slightly annoyed, but repeated his question anyway.

Leclerc gave a short answer before his gaze drifted back to the place it had previously been resting, to the person standing in the very back in the crowd, somehow in the middle of a light that made it very easy for his eyes to lock onto.

You, however, were not returning his gaze. Your head was down as you furiously typed away at your tablet, eyebrows furrowed slightly in concentration and as oblivious to the piece of hair that had fallen in front of your face as you were of the formula one driver's stare.

“You’re staring again, mate.” Carlos’s voice floated into his ear in a low murmur as he directed his microphone away from him so as to not pick up on their quiet conversation as the crowd continued without paying them any mind.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” It was a pathetic lie, and they both knew it. Especially since he couldn’t bring himself to tear his eyes off of you long enough to even look at Sainz.

A chuckle escaped the man’s lips and he snickered, “Like a little lost puppy,” He mused.

That was able to finally bring Charles’s eyes away from you and to his teammate, blue orbs narrowing slightly, “Shut it,” Annoyance sat in his tone, though he didn’t bother even trying to deny anything.

Without even looking at you, it was as if the man could sense your movement and turned back to you just in time for you to look up from your device, your eyes locking with his.

“Smile,” You mouthed, knowing very well as his pr that any bad media pictures would not be fun to clean up in the morning.

He did so without hesitation, allowing his face to soften so he didn’t look as stoic as he had when he was addressing Carlos.

You smiled at him in gratitude before returning your gaze to the work you had been previously doing.

“Puppy dog,” This time, when Carlos whispered in a sing-song voice, Charles only allowed his smile to widen.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

“Here,” Charles’s voice was a soft murmur as he all but materialized beside you.

You glanced to his face then to the flute of champagne in his outstretched hand and took it eagerly, imminently taking a generous sip, “Was it that obvious that I needed it?”

He smiled softly, eyes trained on you as you scanned the crowded room of the charity event that the company had all of the current formula one drivers at currently, “I could sense it.”

It wasn’t any secret that this was one of the most important- and therefore stressful- nights of the season so far for you. Not only were you responsible for making sure that Leclerc looked good in the eyes of the public, but your bosses had enlisted in your help with doing the same for all of the other nineteen drivers.

Apparently you had done such an excellent job with Charles that they wanted to place you in charge of this night. You were never one to turn down new opportunities, no matter how much stress you knew it would bring.

Charles, bless him, had remained by your side for almost the entirety of the night so far, remaining like an anchor to your sanity.

From replacing Lando’s drinks with water to having to pull Daniel away from jumping onto a table, the man had helped you with every task without question nor complaint.

“You’ve been such a big help tonight,” You met the drivers gaze, your eyes wide and full of complete gratitude, “Thank you so much for all of this.”

He waved you off, “I don’t mind,” He told you honestly.

A sigh left your lips, “But you should be enjoying yourself-“

“I am.” Charles insisted earnestly, “This is fun.”

You laughed, “Fun?”

“Fun.” He echoed, subconsciously, moving a strand of hair that had fallen into your face without even thinking about it.

Your smile softened as you looked up at him, something flickering in his eyes so fast that you almost missed it. What it was, you didn’t know.

“Thank you,” You spoke again, your voice soft and full of emotion.

Charles just smiled, never once tearing his eyes away from your face.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

“What’s all of this?” Your lips were parted as you spun in place to look around the room, eyes wide.

“Happy birthday!” Carlos cheered excitedly, bounding across the room full of the Ferrari team until he was right in front of you, sweeping you up into his arms in a bone crushing embrace.

“You did all of this?” You gawked up at him when he finally set you down.

“I helped,” He admitted before a large, cheesy grin overtook his features and he waggled his eyebrows up and down, “You’ll never guess who set this all up, though.” His voice was light and teasing.

Your heart swelled in your chest, “Charles,”

As if summoned by the sound of his name falling softly off of your lips, he appeared from within the crowd of red and yellow, joy alight on his features.

“Happy birthday,” He whispered softly as he came to stand by your side, ignoring the smirk Carlos sent him as he slipped away, giving you two some privacy.

The beam that he was met with was as bright as the sun, “Thank you, for all of this. Seriously.”

“There’s no need to thank me.” He smiled, “You do so much for me, this is the least I can do.”

Without thinking much of it, you pushed yourself onto your toes and left a lingering kiss on the man’s cheek, not even noticing his face go red nor his eyes go wide.

“Well, thank you anyway.” You spoke softly when you lowered yourself back to the ground.

“Who wants cake?” Landos voice boomed through the small room, interrupting Charles right as he opened his mouth to say something.

You joined everyone else in your cheers of response, excitedly taking Leclerc's hand in yours and pulling him towards the dessert table.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

“I’m so proud of you,” You lolled your head to the side as you spoke, voice full of nothing but complete confidence and honesty.

Charles shook his head softly from the cushions beside you, “I didn’t get pole position.” Defeat crept into his tone.

“No,” You admitted, “But you got p2. Which is pretty damn close.”

“I-“ He opens his mouth to argue more.

You cut him off by firmly grabbing his hand in your own, angling your body to face him, “None of that.” You spoke strictly, catching onto his gaze being locked in your intertwined hands, “You raced amazing and did the absolute best you could.” You squeezed his hand, “I’m proud of you.”

His eyes flickered up to yours, staring into them for a moment as the briefest look of hesitation overcame his features.

Before you could even begin to question it, however, the man seemed to take a quick breath to muster confidence, before leaning in and connecting his lips with yours.

Your eyes widened briefly- for no more than a split second- and just as he went to pull away, you dove forward, capturing his lips in yours once more.

Before the kiss could deepen too much, you both pulled away slightly to catch your breaths, “I’ve been waiting a very long time to do that.” Charles admitted breathlessly.

You grinned up at him in response, “I’m glad you finally did it.”

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 fic #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x y/n

[dollfacefantasy]

hiii i’m not sure if you particularly like writing hybrid!reader but can i pls request something with leon where he tries to feel out his bunny/dog hybrid gf’s kinks by seeing how her tail moves in response to them. like something she really likes she’ll wag her tail real fast and he finds it adorable

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!puppy-hybrid!reader

summary: leon plays with his precious puppy girl by watching her tail

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, humping his boot, daddy kink, praise kink, breeding kink, scent kink, dacryphilia, and size kink

word count: 2.6k

a/n: no because i love this idea so much. it's been in my head since i got it. i hope i did it justice because i think it's so cute. thank you for sending it and i hope you enjoy <3

Leon’s eyes rested upon his favorite sight in the whole world. His precious puppy girl kneeling at his feet. If he had to guess, he’d say it was your favorite place to be too. All signs pointed to that conclusion. Your eyes were wide and locked onto his face. Your body vibrated and squirmed with the urge to jump into his lap. And of course, the way your tail wagged back and forth.

Swish. Swish. Swish.

The fluffy appendage moves in a lazy rhythm right now. You were excited Leon was home and wanted to play, but you weren’t thrilled enough for it to turn to a blur. He chuckles and reaches a hand forward to rub your head. That gets it to speed up a little bit.

“You have a good day, pup?” he asks.

You scoot the slightest bit closer while nodding. You tilt your head to the side, squishing the flesh of your cheek against his knee.

“Yeah? What’d you do today?” he says.

“Took a nap. Watched the tv,” you answer, “You look tired, daddy.”

He smiles at your observation and scratches at the base of one of your ears. Those ears, which were perked up at the moment, were so sensitive to everything. The wind knocking something over outside, his car pulling up on the driveway, and of course, small changes in his inflection. 

Though he sometimes wondered if that’s all it was. He sees the way your tail picks up a notch when his lips curl upwards with that smile. He wondered, if not hoped, that it was something more than just your heightened physical capabilities. If maybe, there was something within you, something deeper, some instinctive emotional connection that bound you to him. That was probably wishful thinking. Someone who understood him implicitly. Still that was how he felt sometimes, and it was always lingering in the back of his mind when he watched your cute little ass wiggle back and forth with the movement of your tail.

“A little. Had a long day at work,” he tells you, continuing the conversation.

“Oh. Was it boring?” you inquire.

“You could say that,” he says.

“I get bored sometimes when you’re not here too,” you say.

The short, curt way you speak drives him up the wall. His hand on top of your head trails down to your cheek and gives it a little pinch before his thumb lands on your lips. Your tongue darts out to give the pad a small lick.

“Cute,” he murmurs as his fingers descend to your jawline and then your throat, “Why were you so bored, puppy? You have the whole house to yourself. You have enough toys to fill a room.”

“But I was missing my favorite toy,” you say, nuzzling against his leg.

“Oh, your favorite toy, huh?” he says. 

His fingers tease the edge of the smooth material that was wrapped around your neck. In place of a collar, you wore a pink satin ribbon. It bunched around to the front of your neck where it was tied in a pretty bow. Leon’s own handiwork. He never saw a reason to collar you. You were the most loyal little thing on the face of this Earth. Even if he kicked you out, you’d probably just take up residence on the mat at the front door. He’d rather you look like the spoiled princess that you were and dress you in the pink ribbon to match the other pink items you wore, your camisole and panties.

You nod at the question he asked, the ends of your bow swaying with your motion.

“Yeah? Well, tell daddy. What’s your favorite toy?” he prompts you.

Your hand snakes up to the front of his jeans and paws at the area where you would soon feel the outline of his hardening dick.

“That’s your favorite?” he asks, feigning ignorance, “Wow. If I'd known that, I wouldn’t have bought you all those stuffies. Coulda saved me a ton of money. Just let you sit on my cock most of the time, and you’d be satisfied.”

You shrug, not caring to roll that proposition around in your head for actual consideration. Sure you loved your toys, but they didn’t come close to one tucked away inside daddy’s jeans.

He grins not only because you’re so fucking cute, but also because he can see your tail starting to go faster. As much as he wants to pull you onto his lap and breed you till you’re a mess of drool and tears, he wants more tonight. You were nothing if not eager, and while he loved that, it meant that it didn’t take much effort from you to get him to cum in minutes. You’d just get so tight, you never suppressed any of your moans or whines, your face always scrunched up into needy expressions of euphoria…

Anyways. He just wanted to tease it out tonight.

“You have been a good girl today. I think you deserve some time with your favorite toy,” he says, watching the specific twitch when he said the two words of praise, “You wanna play with it right now?”

You nod almost as quickly as your tail wags. A sonorous laugh echoes from him. His eyes hold that glint that lets you know there’s more.

“What’s your favorite way to play with it, baby? You like bouncing on it?” he asks, his voice gaining an amused lilt.

You don’t respond with words. He knows your nodding, but his focus is on your backside where he’s getting the only response he needs.

Swish.

“Maybe you like taking it face down, whining into the pillow?” he continues.

Swish Swish.

“Or maybe you like being on your back, legs over daddy’s shoulders?”

Swish Swish Swish Swish Swish Swish Swish Swish Swish.

“I think that’s the winner,” he chuckles, “Why is that your favorite, pup?”

“It gets deeper,” you say. He watches as you try to be subtle about scooching closer. He wasn’t going to stop you though.

“Oh I see,” he says, nodding his head in mock realization, “You want it as deep as possible, right? And to do that, I have to pin you down, keep you underneath me where I can just fill that pussy up over and over. You like being helpless, princess?”

As his tone becomes more husky, you take your bottom lip between your teeth and nod. Your hips fight the urge to squirm, but your tail can’t stop flinging itself back and forth. A tingling flame had been lit inside your belly, one you desperately wanted him to put out.

“Yeah. You love when I’m in charge. You love when all you have to do is take it like a good girl, and you can just let that little brain melt away,” he taunts. With each swish of your tail, it’s like he can hear a game show buzzer ringing in his points.

You wrap your arms around his leg that was nearest to you and pathetically whimper out “daddy.”

“What is it, puppy?” he coos.

You look up at him and give him the definition of puppy eyes. “I want it. No more teasing,” you whine. Despite your demanding words, you stay put. You were a good girl after all, and good girls wait for permission.

“What? You want it?” he mocks, “What’s the rush, baby? You don’t like daddy’s voice anymore? You sure were liking it last night when you were all sleepy. Just whining and clinging onto me, begging me not to pull out.”

The movements of your tail start to become blurry as you remember the previous night. He’d fucked you so good and talked you through it the whole time. The main difference between now and then was that then you had his cock stuffed inside you while he spoke.

“I do like it,” you defend with a pout, “But I just want it, daddy. Please. Wanna be full of you.”

“Full,” he repeats, “Does daddy stretch you out? Make you feel like there’s no room for anything else?”

You nod again, but you can’t take it anymore. You scoot forward more so your knees rest on either side of his boot. His knee kisses the space beneath your chin while the rest of his leg is flush up against your tummy, going straight between your breasts. He knows what you’re about to do, but he’s fine with it. Tilting the tip of his boot upwards, he gives you silent permission to start rocking your hips.

That was all you needed to close the gap between the top of his shoe and your clothed cunt. Lowering yourself slightly, your puffy clit brushes the leather. You let out a tiny mewl. Your face was already starting to scrunch up into a cute little look from such a simple touch.

“That feel good, sweetheart?” he teases.

“Yeah, daddy. Thank you,” you whimper.

Your hips move back and forth as if on a pendulum. The rhythm is consistent like the pacing of your tail. Back and forth, back and forth.

“I think you soaked through your panties, pretty baby. You gonna get daddy’s shoe all nice and shiny? Make it smell like you?” he says with a smug grin.

“Uh huh,” you mumble. 

But when Leon mentions scenting his boot, your tail starts going crazy. Absolutely buck wild. He wouldn’t be shocked if you sprained something from how hard it was moving. God, he was getting hard. A solid tent had formed in the center of his lap from watching you. So precious, so adorable. Those pants and whines of pure lust. The way your fingers were digging into the leg you held onto like you needed it to survive. The nonstop rutting of your hips matching up with the wag of your tail.

“Woah woah. Think my girl might be a little possessive,” he says as he watches you. He keeps his tone light. He wanted this to play out before he let himself have any. To stave off his desires, he palms himself over the rough denim.

Your eyes catch that, and it’s almost comical how you nearly drool. “I just want everyone to know you’re mine. You're my daddy. They can’t have you,” you say, nestling your face against his legs.

Your own pleasure builds in the pit of your belly. You’d found the perfect amount of pressure on his boot. You just had to keep grinding your aching cunt into the leather.

“Poor baby. No one’s gonna take me from you,” he croons and strokes your head. His hand moves so much slower than any of your body parts and the contrast intensifies the pleasure further.

“Good,” you say.

“Mhm. Trust me, you keep my hands full as is,” he jokes.

He watches as you keep whining and humping his boot. Your hips move like you’re on the clock. He can feel drool starting to drip on his jeans and dampen the fabric. If only he could see your eyes. He knows they’re getting glossy, hazy with the bliss coming from between your legs. Lucky for him, a particular jolt of ecstasy pulls your head back and ends with your face looking up at him.

“You’re getting to daddy’s favorite part, honey. Keep going, Keep being a good girl,” he says. Again, your tail jerks when it registers the magic words. You snap your hips with renewed fervor, chasing the elusive high. His fingers press down harder against his cock as he sees the gleam of saliva coating your chin and lips.

“When do we get to my favorite part?” you babble. Your voice was starting to give as the warmth of carnal pleasure encroaches on your mind.

“And what is your favorite part?” he asks, knowing what your answer would be.

“The part when I actually get your cock,” you whimper.

He shakes his head. “Look at you. Trying to be smart while you’re going dumb,” he teases, “Quit complaining. You’re still getting to feel good, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, but it’s not the same,” you whine instantly.

“Oh really? It looks pretty similar to me,” he says.

You make a small sound that’s halfway between a whine and a growl. Even with your frustration though, your hips don’t stop.

“I’m just teasing you, pup,” he says, stroking your jaw with his free hand, “I guess it is different. I don’t see you crying like you do when I’m buried inside. I don’t get to see those pretty eyelashes all wet from tears.”

Your eyes roll back at the mention of being so fucked out you cry. It was one of your favorites, and Leon knew it. Being reduced to a crumpled mess of sobs against the heat of his chest got you like almost nothing else.

The reactions etched across your facial features are cute, but he can’t tear his focus away from your ass moving against its will through the force of your tail.

“But that’s not the big difference, is it?” he continues, “No. The real reason you want my cock is cause you want daddy to breed you, huh?”

As soon as it leaves his mouth, it’s like his mental buzzer is letting him know he’s won the grand prize. Everything about you goes haywire. You lock around his leg while your hips rut like you’re in heat. Your tail whips around so fast he thinks it could create a breeze.

“Uh huh, daddy- ah! Mm… just wanna be bred. Need it,” you ramble.

He feels his cock twitching in his pants. He’s sure when he actually does get it in you, he’s not gonna last too long. It’s straining against the zipper as is, and he can’t stop rubbing it. He’s almost as bad as you on the boot.

“I know you do. Silly little puppy. That’s always what you need,” he coos, “Just need to be pumped full of cum. My sweet girl.”

Your tongue is half lolled out of your mouth by this point. You’re past going dumb. Your head is swimming around in absolute thoughtlessness. Not a care in the world besides getting yourself to cum all over daddy’s boot.

He nearly groans out loud from the sight of it. He can feel the warmth of your pussy all over his shoe, the plush of your thighs clamped near the sides.

“You’re doing perfect, baby,” he mutters, “You’re gonna get your treat, I promise. Just let daddy watch you cum, and I’ll make sure you get your fill.”

You want to whimper “ok, daddy,” but your mind is too far gone for words. All that comes out is a strangled amalgamation of sounds accompanied by your head wobbling up and down. And the whole time swish swish swish.

Your swollen little clit had more than enough stimulation to get you to burst. Pants turn to gasps and fluid movements sharpen. You mumble against his leg, your lips squishing all over his pants and wetting them even more with your spit.

“That’s my good girl,” he purrs, which is enough to get another loud moan out of you. He chuckles and continues watching with his half-lidded, lustful eyes.

As the movement of your hips slow, your tail’s swings weaken. He still strokes your head as you catch your breath. Your chest puffs in and out while you feel your skin cooling down. It was hard not to get sleepy after you came, but before you have to worry about falling asleep at his feet, Leon scoops you up and holds you on his lap.

Rubbing your back, he presses some kisses to your forehead and temple. “There’s my girl. How’re you feeling, baby?”

“Good, daddy,” you mutter against his shirt.

“Yeah? You think you’re up for daddy breeding you for real now?” he whispers.

And suddenly, you’re not so sleepy. You sit up straight in time with your ears perking up. You nod and give him a lazy smile. He can’t see it, but he can feel that tail already starting to wag again.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy smut #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #resident evil imagines #resident evil x you

[writersdrug]

You and Konig spend the night drinking and wake up to each other <3

Unsure if we’re hung over or still drunk

König and you being drunk homebodies

Warnings: vomiting/emetophobia trigger warning!! Mentions of sex, drunk reader and König, fluff, König being the caring partner we all crave

A/N: I know exactly who requested this and I'm sorry it took so long 😭 I don't even have an excuse, it just say on the back burner, but here you go! Enjoy~

Photo credit to 661ave

You don't remember much from the night before: just glimpses of this and that.

You and König dressed up for the awards ceremony, a glass of wine in each of your hands, managing to convince him to dance with you... holding some bronze, dark cocktail in your hands as König insists it's the best thing Germany ever made. From there, it only gets worse.

You remember laughter and giggles, promises whispered into your ear, making you blush... König pulling you outside of the event, nearly tripping over your own feet as he dragged you into a taxi... watching as he threw a wad of cash at the angry driver as you both shamelessly made out in the backseat of the car... continuing the fiasco on the loveseat in your home...

And then it goes black.

Last night, you felt like a couple of teenagers escaping a party. Now, you felt like you'd just finished a triathlon.

You groaned. The sunlight peering through the blinds was too bright, your stomach churned, your head was pounding, and there was something heavy and warm draped over your middle. You tried to push it off, to no avail - König made a sound, and his fingers twitched against your side.

"König..."

"... mm..."

"Get off..."

"... m... mh-mm..."

You sighed. You needed water - your mouth was drier than a desert, and every cell in your body screamed for hydration. You could stand to take a bath, too.

You tried turning your head to look at König - which was a mistake. The entire room spun dangerously, and your stomach threatened to empty its contents then and there. You slapped a hand over your mouth and threw Königs arm off of your body with all your might. You stumbled into the bathroom, crashing into the door frame and collapsing on your knees. You barely made it to the toilet in time to spill last night's dinner, gripping the edge of the bowl like it was your lifeline.

God, you thought, when was the last time I was hungover like this? Highschool?

As you were emptying your stomach, you felt a hand scoop your hair back and away from your face. You saw König out of the corner of your eye - he was only in his boxers, sliding down the edge of the tub to sit next to you, his legs splayed out before him. He held his other hand over his eyes as you finished your business.

You panted, pulling the handle to flush and squeezing your eyes shut. Your stomach felt better, but your head was pounding, like you were being stoned. "Thanks..." You mumbled to König, and he grunted in response.

"Better?" He asked, still shielding his eyes from the bathroom light.

You groaned. "Yeah." You sat back on the cool tile, leaning against his chest. "Never trusting any of your recommendations again, by the way."

He exhaled, possibly meant to be a laugh. He let go of your hair and rested his hand on your thigh. Watching his thumb rub soothing circles into your skin made you feel dizzy. To be honest, you couldn't be sure that you weren't still drunk. Between the spinning room and the lightness in your chest, there may have been a bit of drunkenness left in your mind - but that could have also been from vomiting.

"Let's not do that again..." You mumbled.

"Mhm..." he said, his voice hoarse from dehydration. "What was it we did?"

"Idunno. You told me to try a drink - I think I had three- no, four..."

"Jägermeister..." he mumbled in a pained voice.

You both sat there for a few minutes, eyes squeezed shut as you focused on breathing. The feeling of König's breath washing over the crown of your head was soothing, even in your half-dead state. You would have been content to stay like that, sat up against him on the cold, bathroom floor as you recovered from your hangover.

Eventually, König threaded his hands under your armpits and helped you stand, guiding you into the bathrub behind you. He murmured something in your ear about "need to get something", before he turned on the shower and let the cold water hit you. You griped and tried to change it to a warmer setting, but he told you to let it run for a few minutes. "It'll feel better, schatz."

He left the bathroom door open as he trudged - stumbling was a better word - into the living room. Despite the constant fogginess in his mind, and the ache in his legs, he was a man on a mission to take care of his partner (and afterwards, himself). He began picking up all the clothes that he had torn off of you and himself in a hasty desire for drunken sex. He would have gotten hard at the memory of him plowing you into the sofa, and at the sound of your drunken moans and giggles as he struggled to hold himself above you - but his hangover prevented him from having any sort of reaction to said memories. The most he could do was laugh and snatch your panties that were hanging off the corner of the TV.

He piled the clothes next to the washer and dryer, then moved into the kitchen. He fixed two thermouses of water for the both of you, and grabbed an extra glass and an Alka seltzer for him. He carried the items back to the bedroom, peeking into the bathroom as he passed.

You stood in the shower as the freezing water hit your back, hugging yourself and shivering at that point. You eventually gave up waiting for König and turned the knob to the left; you sighed in relief as the warmth seeped into your bones, melting away some of the fogginess in your head and making you feel less grimy. You leaned your forehead against the tile in front of you - your stomach lurched a bit, but you knew there was nothing else to come up.

You heard König slide into the shower behind you, but you kept your head against the tile. He whispered something in German that you were too exhausted to decipher. His hand gently slid onto your forehead as he pulled you back against him. You leaned there, eyes closed as you let his scent wash over you.

"Mein liebling..." he murmured, massaging his fingers into your shoulder muscles.

"Don't call me that." You spoke softly. "You tried to poison me last night."

He chuckled, rubbing a warm, wet cloth over your neck and shoulders. "Almost took myself out, too, didn't I?"

After a moment of standing in the silence with him, feeling drag the cloth softly over your face, you realized that he was replicating your nighttime skincare routine. Except, it was currently one in the afternoon, and you normally don't do it in the shower. You would have told him that he was using the wrong kind of cloth to clean your face, but you decided to keep your mouth shut. Both out of gratitude and the comfort of his touch.

He carefully finished washing your face, then your body, making sure to be gentle and slow. He whispered unintelligible phrases against your scalp as he turned off the water. He pulled you into the center of the bathroom and wiped you down with a towel - you were practically asleep standing up, but he made sure to hold you steady.

After you both brushed your teeth together, he helped you pull on some clothes, before letting you crawl back into the bed. He then went back into the bathroom to finish drying himself off. You kept your eyes closed, listening to the ambiance of König's movements, combined with the sound of the breeze outside.

You looked towards the window and noticed he had cracked it open. You also noticed there was a thermos and a sleeve of crackers on the nightstand, right within your reach. You felt a sudden onslaught of emotions and tears forming in the corners of your eyes; maybe it was because you were hungover (or at this point, possibly still drunk, you couldn't tell), but it finally broke the damn, and you began to cry, quiet sobs and sniffles breaking the near silence in the bedroom.

Instantaneously, you heard König nearly breaking his legs as he floundered over to you. The towel he had held had yet to hit the floor by the time he was kneeling by your side.

"Was? Was ist falsch? Are you ok?" He said, placing a hand on your forehead with a worried expression.

You let out a sob. "Nothing, it's stupid- you're too good to me... you're hungover too- and you- you did all this shit for me- 'n here I am, not doing anything at all for you-" your words melded with your sobs, which had taken over the conversation.

He sighed with relief, petting the crown of your head and planting a kiss there. "Liebling... I'll always take care of you- even when I don't feel gut." he murmured. "You always come first - but I promise I'll take care of myself too, ok? Just for you."

You sniffled again and nodded. "M'kay..." You mumbled, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to stop the flow of tears - you needed all the hydration you could get.

"Although, promise me one thing-"

"Hmm?"

"Let's not to do this again. It's not good for you, and I can't take care of you properly when I'm like this."

You nodded again. You'd rather be in hell than have this bad of a hangover. "Promise."

König placed a satisfied kiss to your forehead again, muttering a quick "Geh schlafen, süßes Mädchen..." into your scalp. He stood back up and headed back to the bathroom, picking up the discarded towel and rubbing it over his hair. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, scoffing at the bags under his eyes. Not what I used to be, eh? He thought.

He headed back into the room and grabbed a pair of sweatpants from the dresser, and lazily tugged them on. He thought about putting on a shirt, but the idea of it made him cringe. He felt overstimulated enough as it was - the shirt would just feel suffocating. He then shuffled over to the bed and climbed in, pulling you against him with an arm wrapped around your waist. He sighed, tucking your head underneath his chin.

"At least we have all weekend, ja?" He said quietly.

You didn't respond, making him crane his neck to look down at you. "Schatz?" He said, holding his hand in front of your nostrils. He knew you were alive, of course - but the feeling of your warm, slow breaths against his fingers granted him peace of mind.

He chuckled, tucking his hand back around your waist as you slumbered on. "Süße Träume, mein liebe." He whispered, curling around you and letting his eyes fall shut.

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

Bleh I wasn't too confident with this one, but I'm trying to clear out my drafts so I pushed it out. Hope yall like it! Comments and reblogs are always appreciated! 🥰

#konig x reader #konig #call of duty #konig cod #konig fluff #konig headcanons #konig blurbs #cod x reader

[demon-kumo]

𝐃𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤 𝐘𝐞𝐭 𝐋𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥

➤ 𝐂𝐡𝐮𝐮𝐲𝐚 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐃𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐢 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

➤ 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐇𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐬, 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞… 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝? 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝.

➤ 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟

➤ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐃𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐢'𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞, 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐡-𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟

➤ 𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀

No one loves wine as much as CHUUYA. Hell he has a cabinet at home full of it, you were never one to drink though. Yet the minute he stepped into the home the scent of expensive wine reached his nose.

Working in the mafia had never been easy, whether you were a simple office worker or the boss, everyone went home late. Chuuya was no exception, as an executive he stayed longer than most. So the sweet pop in his bones allowed a satisfied smile to come to his face as he stood from the chair.

Finally, time to head home.

The click of the door allowed the corridor to open and sighed at the cool air hitting his face on the hot Yokohama night. His shoes hit the floor with a clumsy clack before it hit him. The strong scent of wine.

Perfect features, in your words "rivaling the gods", scrunched up as he walked through the penthouse and was met with an unfamiliar sight.

You. Hunched over the marble counter with a familiar red bottle in front of you. Soft cheeks hued red alongside your adorable ears, with a dazed look in your eye. Chuuya knew this sight, it had been on his own visage multiple times.

It seems the roles have been reversed.

Blazen blue hues softened considerably on instinct at the mere sight of you as he waltzed over. Placing a hand on your shoulder you looked up with glassy eyes and met the eyes of your lover.

"Hey (Y/n), you good?"

A drunk giggle escaped your lips, "Of course," you waved your hand, "I am perfectly fine, can't you tell?" you said as you were about to take another sip only for your husband to grab the glass.

"Alright love, I think you've had enough." He chuckled, finding your drunken state endearing and amusing. He had never seen you drunk before, you were normally the responsible drinker. It wasn't often that you drank wine.

The smile dropped from his face when you gasped like an overzealous Karen, hand to your chest as you looked at him with mouth agape.

"Sssirr, you may be handsome and k-kind enough to care about some stranger buuuuut don't call me that!" You slurred your demand as you pointed at him.

Chuuya tilted his head, "Call you what?"

"You know exact-ly what I mean you scoundrel! You can't call a w-woman you just met lllovveee,"

Chuuya raised his brows in surprise, "Huh?"

You squinted your eyes at him with a pout, "You heard meee right, I will have you know I am married!" You slouched in your chair.

Chuuya deadpanned, "L-(Y/n), I am the man you are married to."

You scoff a drunk scoff, "Y-you dare lie to me, I know my husband when I see him. And," You pointed at him for the nth time that night, "you look nothing like him."

You look through your blur and see the hazy figure of blue and orange covered in black and red clothes. Yep, 100% not your husband. "Myyy husband is ten times the mannnn you will ever beeee. He would never lie to meeee.... plusss he is-sh the most handsome man I have ever met."

Chuuya flushed bright red at your words but chuckled as he picked you up bridal style, just like he did the day he married you, and smiled at you. The same loving way he always did.

"Well then, that man is extremely lucky to have you. He also loves you more than anything, probably... no he would definitely burn the world for you."

➤ 𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐔

Being passed out from beer and liquor was a familiar scene to OSAMU. Within the years of hiding from the mafia and laying low, passed out in bars. But to find his spouse in one, now that was a new one.

"(Y/n), sweetie, I think you should stop," Dazai suggested as he watched you call the bartender for another shot. You already were way past wasted.

It wasn't often Dazai was seen with a worried expression but this was one of the moments. He was worried his darling wife would pass out soon and wake up with the largest migraine when waking up.

"Wwwwhatttt, no!" You childishly rejected it as you waved your hand dismissively. "I cannnn handle itttt."

"Sweetie, if you drink any more you will pass out." Dazai sighed, is this how you feel when you deal with him drunk.

He placed a hand on your shoulder and pulled you up, placing his credit card at the bar, and paying for your drinks. Surprisingly he actually had the money to pay for the amount of shots, for her, he will always pay.

"Come on sweetheart, let's get you to bed."

"mhm, nnnooo!"

You push yourself away from the man, stuttering away as you look at him with an exasperated look. Dazai gave you a worried smile, "What do you mean-"

"I tollld you no!" You shook your head, "I have a husband! I am a married w--woman!" You said with a small hiccup as you held onto the counter with your knees bent.

Thank the lords that this bar is empty, Dazai thought to himself as he let out a small laugh. "Sweetheart, I am that husband."

"Nope!" You shook your head, "I know my husband, he would never look like you. You're hideous, my man is the... picture of... beauty!"

You slid to the floor on your knees as your cheeks reached an even more red state while Dazai chuckled though if you looked close enough you could see a small blush.

"Oh is he now?"

"Y-yes, I would never betray himmm, what kind of woman... would I beee, if I went to bed.... with another man!"

Awww, that is so sweet, even if the man who is currently trying to take you to bed is your actual husband.

All of a sudden, tears fall down your face, large fat puppy tears as broken sobs. Dazai's shifted to shock as he quickly bent to the ground and placed his hand on your shoulder.

"Hey! What's wrong?"

"*Sob* It's just.... thinking 'bout Samu.... *hick* He is always sad." Dazai's eyes widened as he remained silent when you started to rant. "He never shows it... *sniff* but he thinks so poorly *hick* of himself... but he won't tell me how he feels.... he thinks he is unworthy of *hiccup* h-happiness... or me... I'm a terrible wife... I can't even talk to him about that *sobbing*..."

You cried on his shoulder, tears staining his sandy coat but he didn't care. He looked down at you with an expression he rarely ever wore in front of someone. No one could really describe it, looked like a visage of self-loathing and pity. Was this how you really felt.

He brushed a hand to your head, who had now fallen asleep on his shoulder, mouth slightly agape. You looked like a sleepy child in an adult body. He placed a soft kiss on your head.

" Sweetheart, I know you can't hear me so it doesn't count but, you are right I don't think I am worthy of you. You are the best thing that has happened to me, which is why I am trying my hardest to make you happy."

#bsd chuuya #bsd dazai #bsd #bungou stray dogs #soukoku #chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara #dazai x reader #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd fluff #demon kumo #romance #dazai osamu

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hello could I please request civilian!reader staring at the batboys for a long time and goes “why are you so perfect and handsome, I’m so lucky to have you and I will protect you with my tiny body and hands” 🌸

Idk whether or not this is what you wanted anon but I hope you like it at least in some way 😂

Jason can’t help but let out a full belly laugh upon hearing your declaration after having stared at him for a full hour, as he walked over to you to cup your face in his hands and rest his head against yours.

‘How sweet you of chipmunk, I’ll make sure to keep that in mind whenever I’m in trouble.’ He murmurs as his thumbs stroked your cheeks.

He found it extremely endearing and sweet that you would ever go out of your way to protect someone like him but he preferred if you were to stay at home where it was relatively safe. Jason cared way too much about you to loose you, even if the comment was made in a lighthearted way.

Gotham was far too cruel for someone like you and you both knew it, the city was bound to swallow you whole before you even made it down the street.

The other thing that stuck in Jason’s mind how you thought he was perfect and handsome, to which he would always respond with;

‘I’m far from being either of those things chipmunk, but I’ll take the compliment.’

Jason didn’t view himself as an ugly dude but nor did he think of himself as handsome either, he grew up in Crime Alley and was taken in by a billionaire, he never had times to focus on the way he looked or acted in the eyes of others. Until you of course.

To Jason, Dick was someone many would consider a handsome and perfect man while those same many often regarded him as the complete opposite under the same breath. So whenever you held his face in your hands and called him handsome or perfect with a look of utter love and adoration in your eyes, Jason can’t help but find himself slowly starting to believe that he was in fact a handsome man.

If anything Jason views himself as the one who is lucky to have someone as good and as perfect as you and he reminds you of it day and night, whether he was Jason Todd, your perfect man or Red Hood, feared vigilante of Gotham.

Dick: found it really cute that you thought you could protect him, someone who had the insane flexibility and agility of a cat, but he wasn’t one to crush your dreams and aspirations.

‘My hero has finally come to save me?’ He’d gasp dramatically as he practically falls into your arms, causing you to buckle under his weight and collapse on the bed and giggle at his theatrics.

However he wouldn’t dare let you put yourself in danger in any way shape or form for the likes of him, he refused it as this life had nothing but take and take and take from him anything and everything he held dear.

He still remembered how he felt partially responsible for Jason’s death that he tries to make up for it by being in his corner when it seemed as though everyone thought ill of him.

So Dick really doesn’t want you going and pulling the heroic card on him as he wasn’t sure he’d be able to handle it, he’d act like he could when in reality he was doing far worse then anyone could imagine. So it be better if you let him do the saving.

Now Dick was aware of his own attractiveness and appeal but when you were the one calling him perfect and handsome, he’s smiling widely and internally kicking his feet and saying silly shit like;

‘You still have a crush on me? How embarrassing for you.’ To which you respond with ‘Dick we’ve been dating for 8 months-‘

When anyone else calls Dick handsome they are pointing out an already pre established fact, but when you’re the one saying he’s handsome it has more meaning as it felt as though he was being shown something that he never knew was there before. He lived for every time you called him handsome and it wasn’t because of an ego thing, he just like you calling him handsome and would never want to live in reality where he never heard you say it ever again.

Damian;

‘I can protect us both without issue so there’s no need for that.’

He sometimes takes your word a little too literally, regardless whether you were joking or not.

He was the crime fighter out of you both, so just let him do all the fighting, he doesn’t want your eyes to be burdened with the violence and criminal activity that he was accustomed to.

Also when you called him perfect and handsome, Poor Damian didn’t know what to think as it wasn’t something he viewed himself as nor expected anyone outside of his family to either.

He could handle insults and such but soft words laced with love and care towards him was an entirely new feeling for him in general that it both scared and excited him simultaneously. Besides Damian wasn’t interested in tibial things such as being conventionally attractive or whatever troubles the average person, he never thought it of any importance when other things took presidency in his life.

However when you compliment him, Damian couldn’t help but feel as though he was a little boy again, he would feel himself stiffen for a moment before the appropriate response came to him as easy as breathing, because caring for you was as easy as breathing to Damian and he’d do anything to make sure you were safe and sound wherever you are; for without you he’d be deeply lost.

#dc imagine #dc x reader #dc x you #dc fanfic #dc fic #dc comics x reader #dc x y/n #dc fanfiction #jason todd imagines #jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #jason todd x reader #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson x you #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson imagines #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson fluff #damian wayne x y/n #damian wayne x you #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne imagines #damian wayne fluff #nightwing x y/n #nightwing imagines #nightwing x you #nightwing fluff #nightwing imagine #nightwing x reader

[theemporium]

hi king!! could i get a uuuuhhh…

"I'll do anything for a woman with a knife."

🩷 w/luke? xoxo

we tried something different with a wee historical fiction/prince au🤠they are not my forte but i wanted to try challenging myself. thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

22. "I'll do anything for a woman with a knife."

.

Luke had always found the royal festivities to be tedious and long winded. 

Maybe it was because they very rarely focused on him, with most guests taking interest in his parents or his older brothers—Quinn especially, being next in line to the throne. Or maybe—just fucking maybe—he found them tedious and long winded and boring because they were. 

He wasn’t even sure what the reasoning behind this one was, if he was being completely honest. Though, there was never usually a good reason for many of the high class patrons of the kingdom to deny the chance to be invited into the castle or flaunt their pretty fabrics. But Luke had to assume this one was semi-important if people from neighbouring kingdoms—people of importance—were making the journey. 

Still, it did little to make him feel anything but utter boredom as he did his rounds. He flashed the guests a few smiles, usually letting Jack or Quinn take over the conversation. And once he had shown his face for a socially appropriate amount of time, he found himself sneaking off in the shadows to find something to occupy himself before his father’s expected speech. 

Usually, he would find himself sneaking into the kitchens to see if the staff would slip him a few desserts before dinner or some snacks to entertain him with. 

This time around, Luke didn’t even make it to the secret corridor that led down the kitchen before he was pressed against the wall, his breath knocked out of his lungs and something cold pressed against his neck.

“Shit,” you hissed, only your eyes visible to the boy as you glanced over his face. 

Maybe it was the adrenaline pumping through him that didn’t have him thinking straight. Maybe it was the excitement for something different to happen at this ball. 

Or maybe Luke just lacked common sense and self-preservation because the only response he managed after a random woman dressed in all black with a knife pressed against his throat was, “pick the wrong prince?” 

You blinked. “You matched the description.” 

“So…I was the right prince?” He asked, something akin to amusement in his voice and it threw you off.

“Do you have your life threatened often?” You questioned, partially rhetorical because a part of you was genuinely interested in the answer. “You seem very calm.” 

“I just assumed if you wanted me dead, I would have been dead already,” he replied honestly, making no move to try and escape your hold. He had a feeling you would bury that knife in him before he even got the chance to take a step.

“I could still kill you if you don’t listen to what I say,” you told him, and he knew better than to question how truthful you were with that promise. 

But still, Luke was young and sheltered and spent far too much of his time trapped in the castle, learning how to be a prim and proper gentleman. There was something thrilling about you and, for reasons his own brain couldn’t comprehend, he didn’t want to lose your attention just yet.

“I’ll do anything for a woman with a knife,” he retorted, his lips twitching upwards when he noticed your eyes widen slightly in response. 

“It’s like you have a death wish,” you grumbled, the edge of your blade digging a little further into his skin.

“So if I wasn’t your target, who was?” He asked casually, like you were two acquaintances catching up. Like there wasn’t the possibility of someone turning the corner and finding the two of you. Like there weren't guards already starting to notice his absence. 

“None of your business,” you snapped, your eyes narrowed in annoyance. He wondered if you were contemplating whether or not he was worth killing and adding the extra hassle for.

“It seems like my business when you have a blade to my throat,” Luke added cheekily. 

“You have no sense of survival,” you told him like it was an insult. 

He grinned. “Perks of being a prince, I assume.” 

“I don’t have time for this,” you grumbled and, in a blink of his eye, you were already three paces away from him. “You’re distracting me.”

He pushed down the uneasy feeling in his chest the second you were no longer pressed against him, the second your eyes were no longer on him. “Will I see you again?” 

You paused, tilting your head to the side. He couldn’t see your mouth but he had the strongest sense that you were smirking beneath your mask. 

“Depends what kind of enemies you plan to make, Your Highness.”

.

#cece's cocktail celebration #luke hughes #nhl #new jersey devils #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x you #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes fic #luke hughes one shot #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot

[acapelladitty]

Trouble Like A Mugshot (1.5k)

Pairing: Lucy Maclean/Cooper Howard

Summary: After a long day of travelling the wastelands, Lucy is feeling horny and asks Cooper if he wants to have sex with her. A question which is much more complicated than she could have possibly known.

(A/N: I might turn this into a short series of moments showcasing the pairs developing relationship from this to hard nsfw if that's something folks would like to see.)

Fic Masterlist

Link to AO3

Lucy Maclean was no stranger to the difficult to ignore feelings which were pressing at her body. Fingers slightly trembling, breath coming in shorter bursts than she would admit to, eyes unable to pull themselves fully away from the lounging ghoul who reclined in his nearby bunk with a relaxed stance; cowboy hat tipped across his face as he feigned sleep.

Lucy Maclean knew herself enough to understand that her restlessness wasn't the radition sickness which had recently started to touch at her peripherals again. Nor was it the fact that it had been weeks since she'd had any time to herself that wasn't shadowed by either her ghoulish companion or some other entity.

Lucy Maclean was horny and she was never one to deny herself a simple, sneaky little indulgence when the mood took her.

"Hey, Cooper." She called, fingers rolling across her bare forearms as she sat with her back to the wall, legs crossed in a neat pile. "You awake and listening to me?"

"Hard not to with those foghorn vocals." A grumpy response, muffled by the hat rang back at her. "What are you yapping your flap about?

"Do you want to have sex?"

In their time together, Lucy had never witnessed Cooper doing anything that her vault lessons had taught her were sexual acts. He didn't touch himself around her, didn't disappear for some self-relief as the boys did, didn't make any kind of pass at her like some of the others had done before her husband had been selected. As far as she knew, maybe the ghoul didn't even feel the same things she did, and that realisation made her roll back on her question almost as quickly as she had asked it.

"I mean, if you can have sex that is. I don't know if your," Lucy paused, unsure how to describe her partners physical state without causing offence, "condition, makes it possible. I don't even know if you have the right parts for it but there's other ways of experiencing pleasure. We could use our mou-"

Cutting herself off as her babbling reach a new octave, Lucy watched as Cooper's body - his frame stock still since she had asked her initial question - finally stirred into action. A reddened hand slowly rose from its position by his hip until it reached the cowboy hat, plucking the leather from his face as he turned to look at his bunkmate and travelling companion with an indescribable expression; various emotions fluttering through his typically stoic face.

"I know your experiences with ghouls are limited, princess." Cooper spoke patiently, voice low as he fired the hated nickname at her, her vocal dislike of the new monkier making it a very quick favourite of his. "But the whole package is still intact so let's get that established before you go telling people falsehoods about my good person."

"Okay. Noted." Lucy held her hands up apologetically and her knees touched as she lounged against the concrete wall which was supporting her. "But you didn't answer me. Do you want to? Have sex, I mean? Last time i did was with my assigned husband and it was good enough, great even, but then he tried to kill me and it was this whole thing."

Mentally filing that information away for future use and subtle further investigation, Cooper lay back fully against his own cot and tilted his head closer in her direction, thankful for the dimness of their shared room as it shielded most of his features.

"As much as I'd love to bury my bone in a new patch of land, I don't think that's necessarily the best choice in terms of this little partnership we've stitched together."

Indicating his sewn finger, he wagged it at her dismissively as a discomforting sensation flooded his stomach, mild arousal at the thought of some tail mixing with something dangerous that set his teeth on edge.

"Why not? It's only sex."

Suddenly feeling older than he had any right to, Cooper fell silent as he mused on her question for a moment.

Lucy Maclean.

Eyes as big as a doe, that girl was built soft but he was lucky enough to see people for what they truly were and the steel which lurked beneath the painful optimism and naivety that shone free of her would make her a dangerous player if she ever truly entered the game. He felt the burden of his own cruelty at times, cornering her into making decisions that would cause her little vaultie friends to vomit if they knew the violence she enacted, but with every difficult choice came a fresh coating to that steel which would see her survive and thrive in the wastelands.

It's only sex.

In his life, Cooper Howard had enjoyed less sexual partners than many would believe. A sticky fumbling in the upper level of an old barn had been his first, the other party a sweet girl from a nearby ranch who was two years older and knew what she wanted from him. Pretty soon after that came Barb and as soon as he laid eyes on her he never saw anything past her.

War was terrible for the other men and many lost themselves in drink and the women who haunted the barracks and backlines looking for poor souls to feed on. But not him. Never him.

Not when he had to come home to Barb.

Even when married and at the height of his fame, when aspiring young things would throw themselves at him, their perfumes overpowered by the stink of wine and cigarettes, he had rebuffed them politely. He was loyal and he enjoyed the fruits of that loyalty as he held his wife in his arms and basked in the sweet sounds that she would make as they fucked. Hell, she had even given him a daughter and he loved her every day for it.

War never changes.

But he did.

And fuck him if his new appearance and designation as a Ghoul didn't screw him out of any chance of some stress relief as he wandered the wastelands. Might as well have been a fucking leper for all the tail which was now afforded to him and his leathery visage.

Not for Lucy Maclean though.

She, it seemed, didn't care about any of that.

"Did I say something wrong? The leaders explained all acts of intercourse to us so I know what I'm doing and I consent fully."

Lucy's voice, heated with an almost defensive lilt, broke into his musings and Cooper blinked at her as the hole that made up his nose flared while he inhaled deeply.

"I don't doubt that, darling. I've seen how you handle a pistol." Reverting to his typical sarcasm as he looked, truly looked, at her, Cooper sighed at the earnestness which oozed from her features. "But I'm gonna have to decline. Politely."

"Is it because of me? Did i do somethig wrong? I mean, my husband didn't seem to mind but then he was planning on killing me anyway so y'know?" Making a wild gesture with her fingers as she spoke, the casualness of her speech wasn't enough to mask the genuine insecurity which threaded through the questions.

"You're fine. Attractive little thing, even. I think any man would jump at the chance to have you wrapped around them like an old holster."

He wasn't lying- and he wasn't blind. She was a good looking young woman, her innocence flickering like the dull embers of a welcoming fire in the darkness of the wastelands. She was enthusiastic, eager, and damn pretty with those big eyes and curved figure which hid beneath the bulky clothes which she used for protection. More than once he'd caught himself glancing at her as she bent to snatch up things from the floor and the few times he did allow himself to fall into something like sleep featured breathy moans and the feeling of long, brunette strands brushing through his ungloved hands. Mouthy too so he knew she would be a vocal one - probably yowling like a hellcat.

It would be so easy to have her.

A simple yes and she would no doubt leap into action, shedding those clothes as quickly as did her weapons when trying to find peaceful solutions to violent problems. He would treat her right, everh inch the gentleman cowboy and no doubt much better than that shady husband she'd unwittingly fucked. He'd show her things with his fingers and mouth that would have her screaming loud enough to wake up all the devils in hell. Against the cot, against the wall and against whatever furniture she wanted, he could show her how a real man treats a woman as they both burned off some stress.

Feeling a very definite stirring in his groin, Cooper was quick to banish the dangerous thoughts.

"But a bad man like me shouldn't be allowed near a pretty little thing yourself. You're ready for a lot, Lucy Maclean, but you ain't ready for that."

Something almost like understanding passed through her gaze and Lucy nodded, instead exhaling deeply as she tapped the back of her head against the wall behind her.

"In that case, would you mind leaving for an hour so that I can masturbate, please?"

Cursing himself for the little shred of morality which plucked at his heart and refused to allow him to ruin this unknowing tease of a woman, Cooper dutifully rose to his feet and marched to the nearby door.

"You get half an hour." He grunted, barely tilting his head towards her as he stormed out into the nighttime air - determined to get far enough away that there was no chance that he would hear her and break his determined stance.

Besides, he might not be fucking her but as his cock pressed against his slacks, he wasn't masochistic enough to deny himself a similar pleasure and the distance would also give him some much needed alone time.

Goddamn Lucy Maclean.

#fallout #fallout amazon #lucy maclean #cooper howard #lucy x cooper #ghoucy #lucy x ghoul #cooper x lucy #ghoul x lucy #fallout smut #walton goggins #ella purnell

[thoughtless-muse]

a/n: the title (and some other parts of the story) are inspired by the song ‘bad blood’ by taylor swift and no, i am not ashamed of it lmao. this is my first time ever diving into this type of story, so I’m equal parts excited and terrified. if you have any critiques/tips, please let me know below! also, “scout’s honor” is by no means abandoned. I’m going to be writing/posting chapters of each story at their own pace :)

chapter summary: you had been alone for over a month now, combating against stumbling dead people who slobbered for your flesh. when a random stranger finds you in the aftermath of a blackout, the last thing you expected was for him to ask you to join his group. but he did, and in a desperate move to escape those four walls, you accepted – not knowing at all what was in store for you.

word count: 2.4k

c/w: canon-typical violence/gore, sassy!reader, fem!reader, language, past-established relationship, very subtle allusions to a troubled past

prologue

“hey, lady, are you, uh… are you okay?”

the words were garbled and a tad distorted, and for a moment, you thought you’d merely conjured the voice from the depths of your frayed conscious — but the boyish face that stared down at you when you fluttered your eyes open threw that theory straight out of the window.

for a moment, you simply stared in silence. you stared at the boy’s face, taking note of the pink flush of life to his flesh — not gray, not rotted, not bloody; pink. his face was clammy, sweaty, with the skin pulled in different directions to paint an expression of worry; an honest to god expression.

a person. this was a living, breathing, real person standing above you. at least, he seemed real enough, but —

“are you real?”

the question bubbled, croaky and hoarse, past your lips before you could reign it in. the boy scrunched his bushy brows together and his squinted eyes narrowed until they were near closed. a clear expression of confusion. huh, another expression.

“um, yeah, I am.” the boy responded, though, in his bewilderment, the statement sounded more like a question than a fact. a laugh wrenched itself from your chest.

“you don’t sound too confident about that, mystery man.”

“I-I’ve just never been asked that question before.” the boy sputtered, a tad defensively, lips pulling into a frown. expression after expression from this one, it seemed.

“I haven’t had to ask that question before,” you grumbled out. pain pinched your ribs when you propped yourself up on your elbows, no longer feeling the need to lay flat on the warm pavement. “don’t exactly see new faces in the city much, let alone breathing ones.”

“you mean you’ve been in the city this whole time?” the boy exclaimed quietly; his eyes were wide now, revealing orbs the shade of dark chocolate. they weren’t fogged over, dead, or unseeing, but glassy and expressive. human.

a ragged, raspy croak broke off your sentence before you could even start it. your muscles jolted in response, but before you could react, the boy let out a shocked yelp that was followed quickly by a wet squelch right next to you. you trailed your eyes down to find a small hand-ax splitting the rotted flesh of the groaner to your right. the one you swore you’d killed not long ago.

“huh. thought I got that one,” you noted mellowly, swinging your eyes back up to the boy to give him a small nod. “thanks.”

“yeah, uh, no problem.” the boy panted, returning your nod. his eyes darted from side to side before he thrust out a hand to you. all you could do was stare at it.

“it’s not safe out here in the open. we should really get inside a building or something,” the man suggested, words edged with subtle nervousness. you scanned your surroundings slowly; there was a cluster of groaners shuffling towards you, but they were at least twenty yards away — not much of a threat given the granny crawl they were traveling at.

mystery man, however, became more nervous at the sight of them.

“c’mon, I know a place that’s clear. it’s not far from here.” he urged, extended hand trembling faintly. you let out a huff and grasped it with your own. your ribs bloomed with pain once again when the man hauled you up, but you bit back the groan that it prompted; you’d had worse than this, and you’d long since learned to suck it up and just keep truckin’.

when you were stable on your feet the man released your hand and reached down to free the hand-ax from the fallen groaner’s head, his face scrunching in disgust at the wet sucking sound the action elicited. it actually amused you to an extent.

“okay, mystery man, lead the way to safety.” you stated flippantly, manipulating your arm in a ‘the stage is yours’ sort of gesture. the man gave you a bit of a stinky side-eye before jerking his head to the left.

“it’s just this way,” he whispered. he padded to the sidewalk quietly, head whipping in each direction, body tense as if he expected a groaner to simply jump out unannounced at any moment.

what a scaredy cat, you thought jocularly.

“also, my name is glenn, not ‘mystery man.’” he added in a mutter.

you merely hummed in acknowledgment, more so for the man than yourself; you knew that by sundown he’d be gone with the wind, you’d forget all about this glenn fellow, and his name would be lost to your memory forever. no point in trying to stick it there in the first place.

silently, glenn led you through skinny, trashed back alleys and skirted past dilapidated structures, until at last he reached a large brick building. the door, which looked to be some sort of emergency exit, was a cool, gray metal, the hinges lined with rust and the surface slightly bleached from the harsh rays of the sun.

“it’s in here,” glenn murmured, grasping the handle and yanking it open. the hinges gave a deep, audible screech as he did so. “we cleared this out a few days ago.”

“we?” you parroted, trepidation flaring in your gut. it was fine when it was just glenn, but the thought of a group of people, one composed of unknown numbers, set off all kinds of alarms in your head.

groaners you could handle any day of the week; they were predictable, simple — just ambling corpses with no real thought process. humans… humans were different. complex, unpredictable, dangerous.

glenn noticed immediately when you hadn’t followed him through the threshold of the door; he glanced back at you, brows scrunched once more in confusion — it only took him a few moments to register the look upon your face before his eyes were widening and he was sputtering, “o-oh, it’s fine, my group isn’t – uh, they’re not dangerous. they won’t hurt you. and in any case, they aren’t w-with me today – I always make runs alone.”

“I’m s’posed to take your word for it?” you shot back, eyes narrowed dangerously. glenn gulped audibly and flicked his eyes between you and the interior of the building, lips working without producing any sound. he looked so helpless, like a lost puppy, that you couldn’t stop yourself from deflating.

“I believe you,” you uttered. “at least, I will for now. I mean, you don’t look all that dangerous. I reckon I could knock you on your ass in two seconds flat.”

a threat wrapped up within a petulant jab; not exactly your proudest moment, but part of you felt cornered, and it seemed to get the job done. glenn’s eyes flashed with surprise, and maybe a bit of fear, and his voice was less than stable when he murmured, “there’s no one else in there, I swear.”

the tense set of his shoulders, his wide eyes, and the shakiness in his voice seemed so genuine, that you couldn’t help but bark out a laugh.

“are you actually scared of me, mystery man?” you jested, genuinely bemused by how sincerely glenn considered your concealed threat. was he actually taking you seriously? glenn’s throat flexed as he swallowed and nodded.

“well, I just watched you take down about a dozen geeks with just a pocket knife; so, yeah, kind of.”

you chuckled to yourself and gave glenn a once over. maybe he wasn’t so bad, after all. he appeared genuine and harmless. kinda cute, too; in an innocent, boyish way, of course – boyish had never exactly been your style, but you could enjoy the aesthetic of it.

“well, glenn, why don’t you go ahead and show me around?” you purred, rolling his name across your tongue and not bothering to wait for a verbal confirmation. you pushed past glenn and into the dank, dusty building, eyes immediately sweeping across the bare shelves and stained walls. not a groaner, nor human, in sight.

glenn ambled further in and shut the door behind him with a soft whoosh and click. the room became near saturated in darkness, the only light being that of the sunlight filtering weakly through the gaps between the boards nailed to the windows. glenn wasn’t lying when he said it had been cleared out, but he didn’t mention anything about it being groaner-proof.

“is this, like, where your group stays or somethin’?” you inquired, your eyes narrowed and scrutinizing of every detail. there were no mats or makeshift beds that you could see, no visible provisions, and the space lacked the tell-tale signs of human inhabitance.

“oh, no, uh, this is just a rendezvous point – or, it will be. like I said before, I mostly do runs on my own.” glenn passed by you as he explained, coming to a kneel in the middle of the floor where the sunlight was most luminous. he slipped a large, beige bag from his shoulder and planted it on the ground, flipping the top and burying his hand inside.

“runs?” you wondered aloud, watching the man closely as he began to pull items from the bag one by one. medical gauzes, bottles of hydrogen peroxide, boxes of bandaids, a couple cans of vegetables occupied the space beside him bit by bit.

“yeah, runs. we made a camp a while back, at an old quarry just outside the city. food and water aren’t much of issue there, but other things” – glenn glanced up at you a bit sheepishly – “well, they run short sometimes.”

“so they send you out alone to get them?” you surmised, prompting an airy chuckle from the kneeling man.

“ah, no, I actually offered. I know the city like the back of my hand. getting in and out is no problem for me.”

you nodded your understanding, chewing the tender skin on the inside of your cheek – you were inclined to believe glenn, considering he had yet to prove himself untrustworthy, but there was something that was gnawing at you; something that you needed some clarification on.

“so, uh, if you came out here to get supplies, why’d’ya come over to me? and why did you bring me here?”

glenn paused his task for a brief moment before sighing softly. his lips thinned as he seemed to ponder how to answer.

“because I made a promise to myself. I told myself that if I ever ran across someone here in the city, I’d ask if they want to come back with me,” glenn answered quietly, though by the clench of his jaw, you could tell he wasn’t quite done with his explanation, so you bit back the other questions swirling on your tongue. “I guess I just hoped to myself that if the roles were ever reversed, someone would do the same for me.”

the residual tension that had been locking up your shoulders ever since entering the building drained away like a river to the ocean. you smiled softly and plopped down on the floor a few feet away from glenn. with a teasing warmth in your chest, you queried, “so you saw me and decided you wanted me to come home with you?”

glenn rolled his eyes, but the flush in his cheeks betrayed the effect your suggestive comment had on him.

“not like that, it’s just – it’s just that things aren’t as easy as they used to be. your best chance at survival is with a group.”

“I’ve done fine on my own,” you responded back flippantly, planting your palms behind you and leaning your weight back atop them. “I mean, I’ve been here since it started.”

glenn swiped his tongue over his bottom lip nervously, scanning through the contents on the floor before rapidly scooping them back into his bag.

“yeah, I, uh, I noticed that you’re capable. it’s just that – things won’t always be so easy, you know?”

irritation shot through your chest like a hot lance, your somewhat good mood ruined instantly.

“did I say it was easy?” you seethed, anger punctuating your every movement as you swung your hands back in front of you and leaned forward.

just as it had at the door, glenn’s mouth began to open and close rapidly as he tried desperately to recover. his wide eyes flicked down to your waistline, the area he knew held your pocket knife, and he scooted back a small bit while simultaneously dragging his bag in front of his body; an attempt to keep distance between the two of you.

“I-I didn’t mean it like that! I just meant that – that without a group, surviving will get harder and harder.”

you weren’t entirely sure if it was from lack of sleep, stress, or the cursed, buried memories that had been incessantly dragging themselves back up despite your multiple efforts to keep them down, but you had been highly irritable the last few days. every time you closed your eyes, you saw his face, you heard his voice, taunting you with the sweet nothings he whispered long ago. you still felt his phantom touches that had long since grown cold.

you just wanted it to stop.

you wanted to find the strength to throw that little box out of the fucking window, and to burn that one shirt he left, the only things left to remind you that he wasn’t just some conjured fever dream. that’s why you’d been out in the street in the first place, drawing as many groaners as you could to yourself just so you could picture his face as you plunged your knife through their soft, rotten skulls.

and maybe, just maybe, find the strength to drop the knife and let it end.

but you just couldn’t. you couldn’t throw the box out, you couldn’t burn the shirt, and you most definitely couldn’t let yourself die; it went against everything he taught you.

with a sigh, you opened your eyes, which you had never even remembered closing, and regarded glenn once more. his eyes were still wide, clouded with something that was a mixture of nervous and worried, his hand trembled atop his bag, and his bottom lip wavered.

“you said you promised yourself that you’d invite whoever you found in the city to your camp, yeah?” you quizzed, the question one that glenn had not expected you to ask, if the brief confusion on his face was any indicator. after a moment’s hesitance, glenn nodded.

“yeah… our camp is pretty well established, and I know we’ve got room for others. does that, uh – does that mean you want to come back with me?”

you’d never second guessed your choices, nor the consequences of those choices, and you weren’t about to start now — so, with a cheeky smile and a wink, you purred,

“sure thing, glenn. I’ll come home with you.”

a/n: so I recently checked my analytics and uh… 114 followers?? what??? like I’m — I’m speechless y’all. thank you so so much I can’t even begin to express how much it means to me <3 I promise I’ll be doing my best to dutifully deliver content to y’all as fast as possible <33333

TAGLIST: @daryldixmedown @alanalanalanalanalanna @just-always-tired @chylerluvschim @girlydollydarling @marvelcasey05

#daryl x reader #twd daryl #twd x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl imagines #daryl x female reader #daryl x you #the walking dead daryl #twd

[gallawitchxx]

hi beeee!! i hope you're doing okay 💖💖💖

ooohohohoho okay for the kiss thingy: god knows why cuz it sounds potentially very painful but i feel so compelled to request 28 🙏

sweet deanna! i'm hanging in, thanks love! 💖 so you & @lingy910y both requested #28 & i want to fill both of your prompts. but because you were (rightfully) afraid of pain, i gave you one that's a bit strange, but has a promisingly happy ending? you can be the judge! xx

- - - - -

send me a number & i'll write you a smoocheroo 😚

- - - - -

#28: ...as a lie ps. this is inspired by this post about dealer!mickey & insomniac!ian, who have now rotted my brain.

Ian hasn’t slept in days.

It’s happened before—endless energy is one of his tried-and-true symptoms of mania—but this isn’t that. He’s taking his meds, his skin isn’t crawling and his mind is fairly quiet. Quiet enough to frustrate him as he tosses and turns and wonders what the fuck’s going on.

His schedule has been all over the place lately; his normal routine lost to the endless cycles of employment and Gallagher family responsibilities. He’d been hoping to add school to the mix this semester so that he could have other, less hectic options than a rig-riding EMT, but he’d pushed it off. A pity, now that all-nighters are apparently his thing.

Night two, he googles a few things, which is a huge mistake. Who can fall asleep after reading about how even just twenty-four hours without sleep can begin to derail your bodily systems? Sleep deprivation can cause or worsen conditions like Type 2 diabetes, High blood pressure, Stroke, Heart attack—his pulse leaps as his phone clatters to the ground.

Night three, he takes to the streets, running around the Southside until his lungs burn and his knees wobble. As he passes the clinic that gave his seventeen-year-old self a lifetime prescription for antipsychotics, he knows that if this lasts much longer, he should call his doctor. Tell them his nighttime meds aren’t putting him to sleep anymore. Nip this insomnia thing in the bud before it can overthrow the delicate balance he’s worked so hard to maintain.

Night four, desperate and a bit delusion, he pulls up a number he hasn’t used in years, saved under a contact labeled, DO NOT TEXT.

He breaks his own rule: Hey. Still making house calls?

The response is almost immediate: the fuck u care for?

Ian rolls his bloodshot eyes, typing: It’s an emergency.

Three little dots herald a response that makes him laugh: a weed emergency?

He stays strong: Wouldn’t ask if I didn’t need it.

The next text makes his chest clench: u ok?

He decides to keep it vague—I can’t sleep, but it’s not what you think.—and hopes he doesn’t have to explain further and is relieved to read: u want ur usual?

Another clench: Indica

Two texts arrive in rapid succession: what else do u want? can i give u head while u smoke or no?

There it is: the reason Ian doesn’t use this number anymore.

Maybe in another life it would be a blessing to have a weed dealer to lovers arc with your childhood crush, but in this one, it was a curse. A curse that lasted almost a whole year, bringing with it an endless bouquet of blissful fucks and free weed, and a million moments of tenderness Ian knew nobody else was getting out of the guy. A curse that eventually came to collect payment in the form of bloodied knuckles, broken hearts and ego wounds. A curse that still clings to Ian’s psyche, filling his dreams with gentle, tattooed fingers and bright blue eyes and a sweet and savory scent that can only be described as Mickey.

Mickey, now DO NOT TEXT.

On second thought, maybe he should never sleep again.

The knock at the door makes him hard—a Pavlovian response that irks him more than the three sleepless nights he’s suffered so far. Three raps, one right after the other. The last one no more than a brush of his hand.

Ian adjusts himself and answers the door.

Fuck, one look at that smug asshole and he’s immediately right back in it. Lust and like and maybe even a little bit of reckless fucking love fill his body, rising to the surface like sweet cream. A layer of fat on the roof of one’s mouth; a treat to lick later, a reminder that they didn’t end things because they weren’t insanely hot for one another and potentially soulmates. They were just idiots. Stubborn, petty dicks.

Oh Pride, the great slayer of men.

Jesus, he needs to sleep.

“First one’s on the house,” Mickey says as he crosses the threshold, a joint held tightly between C and K.

Hours slip by. They laugh, they smoke. It feels like old times. Ian’s body is loose in a way it hasn’t been in years. It feels good. Like maybe-he-could-sleep-tonight good. And as he melts further into the couch, he starts to get a little horny too. Because Mickey’s yapping on and on about some asshole that frequents the bar he works at, and Ian’s listening, he swears he’s listening, but he’s also staring at Mickey’s mouth like he wants to take Mickey up on that text message and shut him the fuck up with his dick.

Like he wants to taste the stale smoke of his tongue.

Wants him to stay the night.

Forever, maybe.

Mickey finishes his story. His eyes go soft and he drums his fingers against his knee. “Should get outta your hair, Gallagher,” he says. “Letcha sleep.”

That’s the last thing Ian wants.

“Not tired,” he fibs.

Mickey cocks an eyebrow. “You’re not? ’S been days, man. This shit’s gotta be hittin’ ya by now.”

It’s true. It has been days and this shit is hitting him. Or maybe he’s having a sleep-deprivation-induced stroke. He just knows Mickey can’t go.

“Can’t go to sleep without a goodnight kiss.”

Mickey’s already leaning in when he asks, “Then you promise you’ll hit the hay?”

Ian nods as Mickey presses a kiss to his lying lips.

#welp - throws whatever this is at you #alskfjalkj #i realized that both of my kisses are at the very end of the ficlet & aren't actually described #lolol #maybe my next attempt should be 1K words of just describing the kiss #no actual context needed #just tongues #anyway THANKS DEANNA I LOVE YOU DEANNA #shameless #shameless fanfiction #prompt fill #ian x mickey

[thefirst3chapters]

Unpopular opinion (maybe): Luke's ultimatum at the end of Season 3 inadvertently reinforced Jess's choices that stopped him from finishing high school in the first place.

Disclaimer: The intent here isn't to attack Luke for how he handled things. The overall effect of Luke's presence in Jess's life is undoubtedly positive and instrumental to where Jess ended up. Luke was put in an unfair position that he wasn't prepared for, he genuinely cared and tried his best with the knowledge he had, and it would have been well within his rights to say no to Liz to begin with or to Jess when he came back after the car accident.

From what Jess tells Rory in "Teach Me Tonight," it sounds like he never had much academic support from adults, which is of course why Rory's belief in him will end up meaning so much. Details about Jess's childhood that are revealed once Liz is around suggest that Jess didn't have trustworthy adults in his life and had to learn how to be self-sufficient early. Even though we as the audience can see that Luke is responsible and trustworthy through his own actions and his relationships with people who have known him for many years, Jess doesn't have the same history with him, and it can take a long, long time to unlearn those survival instincts. Additionally, Jess's Walmart manager, as gregarious and pro-corporate as he seems to be, doesn't appear to engage in the practice of pressuring introverts to socialize (which happened to Rory at Chilton) and allows Jess to do something constructive and work toward a tangible reward. Some people get these benefits from going to school, but Jess didn't. Then there's a layer of youthful hubris here because Jess really did seem to think that he could manage all of this and go to school just enough to graduate based on what he tells Rory in S3 E17, Luke in S3 E18, and the principal in S3 E19. With of all this information in mind, it's really not surprising that Jess would prioritize work above school. His logic is self-destructive but understandable, and his fatal flaw ends up being that he committed to more responsibilities than a person could reasonably handle. This isn't the standard media portrayal of ditching school.

Luke's approach to being Jess's guardian is fairly hands-off. After Luke's "laying down the law" talk in the first episode Jess is in, the only requirement we see enforced is that Jess has to work at the diner, which Jess complies with. Luke didn't know Jess was working at Walmart at all until Jess bought his car, he didn't know Jess was eventually working more than full-time hours, and he didn't know Jess was missing as much school as he was. (This last one suggests a significant oversight at the school, which is another story.) When the extent of Jess's work hours is brought to his attention and Lorelai speculates about what is going on, he tells Lorelai that there is no way Jess would skip school and doesn't investigate further. When he realizes Jess is working some days instead of going to school, he offers to pay Jess more at the diner (and later steals his car) to prevent him from working at Walmart (the place he worked before he had a car to earn the money to buy it???) but doesn't press him about what is really going on.

So after all of that, it turns out Jess didn't go to school enough to graduate. Luke does give Jess the option to stay in Stars Hollow and keep going to school, but I could never blame someone for not being able to have a rational conversation immediately after a stranger randomly shows up, claims paternity, and runs out. The emotional damage of that incident really can't be divorced from what happens here. Luke is of course also in crisis mode. Jess didn't graduate because he worked too much, so now he's in a position where his consequence is to keep doing what got him into trouble, only this time he doesn't have anyone looking after him. This isn't what Luke is intending, but his ultimatum basically reinforces Jess's mindset of prioritizing work (i.e. short-term financial security) above school and his reluctance to trust other people, and it reinforces Jess's family history (ironically not including Luke) of abandoning difficult situations (in this case, the aftermath of the fight with Dean) and relationships (in this case, Rory) instead of facing them. Jess ends up on his own with the money he had from work that he was saving for a different car, so he probably thinks it's a good thing he worked as much as he did, and he ends up without adult guidance or restrictions to help him sort all this out and repair the harm he caused. This could have turned out much more darkly than it did, and it's really a miracle that Jess got to where he was by the time he was 21.

When Jess is with Jimmy in California, he acknowledges that he's failed and doesn't know where to go from there. It probably isn't outlandish to think that Jess was earning more as a full-time forklift driver than what he is earning during Season 4. Factoring in the lower cost of living in Stars Hollow or somewhere nearby compared to New York, he probably could have been able earn a decent living if he stayed at Walmart (even if he wouldn't have been better off in the long run). That's probably why Luke's "I'm sorry I didn't think driving a forklift for the rest of your life was good enough for you" stung. It was likely a much better situation than whatever Jess is in mid-Season 4.

In late Season 4, Jess seems resigned to where he is. He doesn't complain or blame anyone else for his circumstances, even when Luke repeatedly mocks him in New York. (Even mid-Season 4, Jess doesn't express anger toward Luke about anything other than Luke stealing his car until Luke provokes him multiple times.) Maybe Jess was already thinking about writing a book or studying for a GED during Season 4, but his posture and mannerisms seem to suggest defeat more than anything else. At this point, Jess might not be envisioning anything other than what he has. It is only after Luke accepts Jess for who he is, and stops seeing him as a failed project, ("You are who you are. I cannot change that, and I'm going to stop trying.") that Jess really starts to move forward. Although Luke isn't even very positive in how he says this, it's still the sort of affirmation Jess always needed and maybe never received from a family member before. Then, he's honest with Luke about his emotions, he's receptive to Luke's advice, he expresses appreciation for what Luke did for him, he offers Luke a way to stay in contact, and he makes a commitment to pay him back even though Luke says he doesn't have to do so. He tries (and fails, for the time being) to make amends with Rory, and after all of these things happen, he progresses into the version of himself that returns in Season 6. Jess pursues a path that Luke doesn't quite understand but has accepted and is proud of (it's also a path that Rory does understand and is proud of, and both forms of support are so important).

#gilmore girls meta #luke danes #jess mariano #diner guys

[azucarmorena97]

Money Ties (Jungkook Love Story || Pt.8)

Pt.7 ||

Your parents have worked hard to get to the top and have made sure to teach you everything you need to know to be successful in this business: from tough but lucrative financial decisions, down to the right ball gown for any given banquet. A promising and extravagant future awaits you- that is, if you agree to one teensy detail...

Son of Mr.Jeon Sr. and heir to June Company, Jeon Jungkook is an immature playboy with nothing to offer a woman but good looks and a crap ton of money, and he stands to inherit much MUCH more, so long as you both enter into the arranged marriage contract that was drawn up before the pair of you were even born.

You're more than willing to try, but you're not sure you'll be able to stand each other long enough to inherit a single penny...

Series Warnings: There will be smut in the near future and I will label those chapters as such. As I say before most of my pieces- I do not endorse any themes, ideas, or behaviors in this series. This is all purely fiction/fantasy! Feel free to inbox me suggestions/ideas/what you'd like to see in this series and I'll see what I can do! Enjoy <3

CHAPTER WARNING: SMUT!

Recap: That thick tension that's been lingering in the air from the moment you first looked at each other- anger, curiosity, bitterness, longing- it's here in this room right now. Every logical thought your mind would normally throw at you to stop you from indulging, is completely crushed under this desire...the desire to know one another fully. Somehow, the two-foot space has closed to an inch. So close, you can feel the heat radiating off of his face and onto yours; his eyes almost completely closed. He's ready...are you?

Your heart is beating so hard, you hear it in your ears- it mixes with the sound of his breathing, and your breathing, and his heartbeat; before you can fully even decide what to do, your lips act on their own. Or rather, they act on your heart's true desire. Curse these lips... It's nothing like you imagined it would be, and yet it is- and yet, it's more. "Please, don't go..." He whispers to you with parted lips, and it causes your heart to stir. Only hours ago, you were certain you hated him- that you were only going through with this marriage as a favor to your parents, to secure your future- But who did you follow Jungkook up to this desolate room for? Who did you kiss him for? Whose is this heart that won't keep still for him? You. You. Yours. Only yours.

You don't answer him; instead, you bring your hand up to the side of his face and deepen the kiss. This isn't like you. You've never done this before. Sure, your first kiss was long ago had during a game of spin the bottle, and yes, eighth grade had its fair share of games of 7 Minutes in Heaven where this boy or that would try to cup your then-non-existent chest- but you would always stop it before it got any further. You knew that wasn't love. You knew it was all fleeting. You knew you were promised to someone else... Promised to Jungkook.

His large hands come to rest on your waist, though only for a moment; they begin to run down to the seam of your jeans. He wants to feel every inch of you, but he's never been one to rush. You pull away momentarily to take in a breath, but he is completely uninhibited, moving from your lips and to your neck- eliciting a gentle gasp from you. You can't help the delicious sensation, nor the way your eyes roll back in response. You have to tell him before it goes any further. God, how embarrassing. "J-Jungkook," You can barely get the words out. "Mm?" He hums into your sensitive skin. For a moment, you wonder if you even should. Would it ruin the moment? "I-I have to tell you something," Your words com out sooner than your body is ready to respond, as your hair is still tangled in his hair and pressing him to yourself.

He stops before you do, pulling away gently. "What is it?" His tone is gentle, and his brown eyes look at you so softly.

"I...I uhm...I wanted to tell you that I..." You can hardly get the words out. You're suddenly so regretful of having opened your mouth at all. "Nevermind!" You say, trying to lean in again, though he pulls back further.

"What is it?" He laughs, finding your shyness to be both endearing and incredibly attractive.

You stare at him, biting your lip from nervousness before deciding to just bite the bullet. You throw your hands over your eyes and blurt out, "I'm a virgin."

Silence follows. Silence so loud that, if it wasn't because you could still feel the heat radiating off of his body, you would've thought he'd left.

After a moment, he gingerly removes your hands from your face- though you dare not open your eyes.

"Y/n," His voice is like honey. "Yeah...?" "Open your eyes, you goof."

His playful tone surprises you, and you finally do open your eyes.

He doesn't look upset at all- or annoyed.

"Thank you for telling me," This time, he brings his hand up to your face and lets it rest on your cheek, his thumb stroking ever so gently. "You're welcome..." You blush red, unable to say anything else.

"We don't have to do anything, you know. I don't want you to think I brought you up here for that. I really did just want to talk and then- and then we had this moment, you know and-" "I want to."

He's stunned by your response and it takes him a second to process, "You- you do want to?"

"Yeah...I just...wanted you to know so that we can take it a little slow..." Sheepish is the only way to explain how you feel. You're not sure if it's normal or common for a girl to openly say that she wants sex, but none of this is normal.

You and Jungkook are not normal people. And maybe that's why you trust him so...at least with this. "Okay," He smiles, leaning in and kissing your nose, "Come."

He stands and grabs your hand, pulling you lightly as he'd done leading you up here.

Though the room hasn't been 'in use' for a while, it's still very clean and well maintained. You'd have thought it sat waiting for a guest to come at any moment.

He leads you through white double doors that divided the living area from a beautiful, neat bedroom. The bed is about the same size as the one in your room, though there's also a small couch and a wardrobe. Not to mention, a giant mirror on the far side of the bedroom, opposite the window.

"Sit down, if you want," He says before disappearing into the connecting bathroom.

You sit down on the bed, admiring the small details in the room- desperately trying not to catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, as you'd thrown on jeans and a hoodie to meet Jungkook at the bar, definitely not having expected for any of this to happen.

He comes out of the bathroom holding a small speaker and setting it on the nightstand. Oh Lord, you think, what kind of cheesy sex playlist is he gonna put on?

To your surprise, a soft piano melody begins to play; one that your recognize.

"Is- is this Wait for Me?" You ask incredulously.

His eyes light up, "You know it?"

"Of course...Motopony is great."

He smiles and walks over to sit next to you on the edge of the bed- but he doesn't touch you right away. Instead, he lets himself fall backward onto the white comforter, his loose button up opening ever so slightly to expose a good amount of his chest.

He doesn't ask you to do the same, just silently stares up at the ceiling- it makes you want to do the same.

For years, you've heard people say that your first time isn't as special as the movies make it seem. They say it's something to just get done and move on from so you can start having good sex- and maybe that's true for some people, but this? You like this.

You lay down next to him, staring at the ceiling too.

"You know, I liked you from the moment I saw you." You snort, "Yeah, right." "I'm serious," He says with a smile, "As difficult as it may seem, considering your so beastly and unlikeable-" You playfully elbow him, "Shut up." "But I did."

"Oh please, you looked at me like I was a bug on the windshield." "And you are, but...I don't know. You have this way about you. You don't take shit from anyone. You say what you want and you stick to it."

"Except with my parents," You say, solemnly. "What are you on about? When I saw you renegotiate that contract with my parents- if you can even call it a renegotiation, considering you just walked in and laid down the law- I thought you were on of the bravest girls I've ever known...it must've been hard for you to have gotten it past your parents, and then..." "And then?" You ask, looking over at him. "...and then when you defended me to my parents...when you saw my dad about to tear into me and you explained how much I was gonna be sacrificing for their dream..." He turns to you, "No one ever defends me...not like that...not at all."

Your heart aches for him in that moment. Staring back at you, is not the man Jungkook, but the gentle soul within the man...

Without another word, you both lean in again. Though this time, you really are ready.

The kiss is gentle for only a second, before you're both dissolving hungrily into each other. With one swift motion, he's lifting your hoodie up and over your head, tossing it aside- exposing your thin, lacy bralette. You're suddenly aware of the slight chill in the bedroom, causing your nipples to perk up through the thin fabric. He stares in awe of the heavenly sight, his pants instantly tighter.

"Can I...?" He asks, lightly tugging on one of the straps. You nod wordlessly, smiling at his politeness.

Is he always this polite with women?

He gently brings down the strip, pulling the fabric down that once clothed your pert breast. He brings his large hand up and takes you into his mouth, licking languid circles around your nipple. "Ah," You moan, the sensation somehow everpresent even between your legs.

Amazing how the human body works, isn't it?

His teeth graze gently against the flesh, nibbling just enough while his hand plays with your other clothed nipple.

"It feels so good," You whisper, relishing in this new feeling. 7 Minutes in Heaven has nothing on this.

"Just wait," He says with a smirk, suddenly bringing his hand down to the button of your jeans. Excitedly, you stare into his eyes- waiting for the precise moment in which his fingers find- "Oh," You squeal, his fingers resting on your clit, though he doesn't move them much.

He's intent on building up your arousal.

"What's wrong, Y/n?" He asks, the smirk never leaving his face, "Feel good?" "Mhm," Is all you can manage as he begins rubbing in small circular motions, bringing his tongue back onto your nipple.

Your quiet for a little, afraid that any noise- any breath at all- will mess up this feeling.

"No, no, beautiful," He says, voice low and slow. He called you beautiful, Y/n.

"I want you to breathe through this." "O-okay," You whimper, disobeying your own judgment and following his instructions. Anything to be called beautiful by him again.

With every deep breath, you relaxed more and more- he's right- this feeling is intensifying beyond what you could imagine.

You've never known what it's like to cum. If you're being completely honest, you've tried before- on yourself, but nothing ever seemed to happen the way it did for other girls. You even wondered if it would ever be possible for you to ever reach an orgasm-

but here Jungkook is, driving you absolutely mad with just a touch. Without a moment's notice, he's plunging two finger slowly into you, measuring how absolutely tight you are. "Fuck," You can't help but swear in his ear, which seems only to egg him on.

"Tell me how it feels, beautiful." "It feels good." "No, no. Tell me more. Good isn't good enough," He picks up the pace a reasonable amount, the palm of his hand beginning to slap against your clit in the absolute best way possible.

"It's fucking wonderful- please, keep- keep going," You feel your abdominal muscles tightening, "Shit, Jungkook."

"Not yet," He says, taking his fingers out, leaving you in absolute shock at the sudden emptiness between your legs.

He swiftly gets up and walks around to the end of the bed, leaning forward and snaking his arms around your thighs to yank you closer to the edge. He quickly takes down your jeans and underwear together, easily getting them off of you and onto a heap on the ground. You'll worry about finding your various articles of clothing later.

He gets on his knees, letting you rest your legs on his shoulders, "Look at you," he says hungrily, his eyes absolutely eating your pussy up before his tongue even has a chance to taste.

You feel shy about his eyes on you, but the vulnerability also feel oddly exhilerating.

He resumes playing with your pussy for a little, getting you back up to where you were, but then he switches to his mouth- and boy, does he know how to use that mouth.

His lips suck gently on your clit, a sensation you've never felt in your life- and one you could gladly get used to.

"Oh God," You hiss, trying to breathe as he said to do but finding it oh so difficult.

"What's wrong, beautiful? Cat got your tongue?" He teases between licks.

Again, your abdominals begin to contract and you feel yourself close- close to what? You suppose you'll find out in a moment or two.

Without ceasing his mouthwork, he plunges his fingers inside of you again, getting you closer and closer until your heat is threatening to burst.

"Jungkook, I think- I think-" You can't even get the words out before you finally do burst- a reaction you never thought yourself capable of. Without any hesitation at all, Jungkook is slurping up your orgasm with thirsty desperation, a warm satisfaction radiating throughout his body at the fact that it was he who first elicited such a response from you.

You pant heavily, overwhelmed by this experience, though it's in the best way possible. Your body occasionally juts from the stimulation of his tongue on your worn clit.

With a smile on his face, he emerges from between your legs- his face transforming from depraved beast and back to a puppy dog expression, though you can still see his chin glistening.

There's something about that sweet expression that makes want to go again. To go all the way. "Come here," You say.

He climbs over you just to plop down in the empty space on your left side. You're not sure what comes over you, but you bring him closer and let the tip of your tongue glide from his chin to his lips, tasting yourself on him like a serpent tastes its very oxygen.

Now, it's you who is depraved and ready to ravage him. Virginity be damned.

You let your fingertips trail down the small portion of exposed chest to the first button on his shirt, somehow managing to blindly unbutton every single one as you kiss him deeply and passionately.

Once the final button is undone, you climb over him so that you sit straddling his waist, and now youu're the one taking a moment to admire his beautifully sculpted chest, along with the tattoos that seem to poke out from the top of his shoulder. You'd never seen them before, "Take it off," You command.

He smiles up at you, eyes wide in astonishment at your ability to take charge. He obeys, wiggling out of his shirt. When you're able to see his arms fully, you find yourself newly aroused as your let your hand touch every centimeter of his inked skin.

He brings his hands to rest on your waist, his eyes unsure of whether to fixate on your ethereal face or full breasts.

You begin to grind slowly on him, his pants still in the way of you being able to feel him- but you're okay for now. You want to build the moment too.

You want him to be as desperate for release as he had made you feel.

He helps your hips with his hands, thumbs digging gently into your flesh, the occasional sweet sting of a slap on your ass driving you wild.

You move down slightly so you can undo his pants, pulling them down a bit to expose his- rather large- bulge, covered by the thin fabric of his boxer-briefs. Suddenly, you feel a bit nervous again.

You've bit off way more than you can chew- what if it hurts? What if he's too big?

"Y/n?" His gentle voice breaks you out of your thoughts, "Are you okay? We can stop if you want?" His gentleness brings you at ease, "Can...can we take it slow again?" "Of course," he says, propping himself up and kissing you, "Take your time, beautiful."

You get off of him and slide his jeans off as he'd done for you, though you leave his underwear on. You want a moment to familiarize yourself with him...with all of him.

His erection stands tall, especially unencumbered by the thick fabric of his jeans. "You're so big," You say gently, not even trying to be sexy- just stating a fact.

"Thanks," He says sheepishly.

"Can I...?" This time, you ask for permission, tugging on his waist band.

"Go ahead," He says with a smile, leaning back with his arms resting behind his head. Intent on letting you explore, he takes slow and steady breaths.

You slowly bring down the waist band, bracing yourself- Throughout your schooling, you've seen maps and diagrams of the human body. You're aware of what a penis generally looks like- or at least, you thought you were aware- but nothing would have prepared you for the size,

Or for how it would make your mouth water.

You take it into your hand, analyzing how your grip leaves a few centimeters of space between your fingers- nice and thick.

"Mm," He groans, excited to be touched by you, the warmth of your hand giving him instant relief.

Gently, you stroke up and down, loving how the slightest touch makes him react so.

"You wanna spit on it?" He suggests, eyes fixed on your mouth. You smile, leaning in and pursing your pretty lips to let a wad of spit fall onto the tip of it. That pretty, pink tip.

You work the spit up and down his shaft, though you can hardly help yourself and, before you know it, you're taking him into your mouth.

It's all experimental at first- this is your first time touching a penis, after all, but within minutes, it becomes second nature. You're careful to avoid your teeth as you bob your head.

"Oh, fuck," He moans, his fingers softly playing with your hair- he's trying desperately not to be too rough- he wants you to explore at your own pace, but God, you're driving him absolutely insane.

"Am I doing a good job?" You ask, your eyes becoming doe-like and innocent, though of course, you already know the answer.

"Yes, Y/n. You're doing a good job, my beautiful girl," He says through gritted teeth.

You love his pet name...Oh, to be called Beautiful always.

You watch his tip gradually become wetter and wetter as he prepares himself, involuntarily, for you.

Finally, you get up and help him out of his underwear, the both of you now fully exposed to one another- uninhibited by a single article of clothing.

"I think I'm ready," You say with a shy smile.

He nods, his smile soft and warm.

You climb back on him, straddling him once more- he leans back and leaves his arms at his sides, waiting for you to tell him when to touch you.

You're nervous, heartbeat furious in your chest as you grab his dick, guiding it slowly so that is rubs against your pussy a few times- you want to make sure it's wet enough.

Finally, it's positioned so that you can lower yourself onto it. Ever so steadily, you ease onto his thick member, easy at first. You watch as h closes his eyes, his mouth falling open slightly. Though you can't fully focus on him- you're busy listening to your body's natural reactions- then a sudden sharp sting- almost like a knife stabbing through a taut cloth, and then...a sea. Truly, a sea of wetness forms within you, easing your pain so that now, the pain becomes a dull sensation.

"You're- you're so wet," He moans, trying not to lose himself in you. He's aware that any sudden move can prove too uncomfortable for you. "Does- does it feels good?" You ask, suddenly really self-conscious of your inexprience.

"Absolutely, Beautiful good...so, so good..." He can't help but begin thrusting gently up into you. He's desperate for it. Smoother than silk, your pussy has got him unraveling already. You smile, feeling now a bit braver. You begin moving up and down as well, balancing yourself on the balls of your feet. "Can- can I go a little faster?" He asks, furrowing his brows with pleasure. "Yes, Jungkook." It's as though hearing his name breathed so sensually has flipped a switch in him, and now he's grabbing ahold of your waist, thrusting deeper and deeper into you, though not so that he'll hurt you- just enough to make it interesting.

"Fuck, Y/n. You feel amazing....do you like how I feel inside you?" He asks, bringing his hand up to rest on your cheek as you continue to work on him. Your cheeks burn under his touch, "I do- you're so big," You say, locking eyes with him. "I want you to do me a favor, okay?" He says, to which you nod. "I want you to rub your clit on me while I fuck you, okay? Grind your pussy down on me, that's how it'll make it feel good." "Okay," You say, eager to please him. You get off the balls of your feet and switch so that you're on your knees, driving him deeper into you. "Fuck," You let out as you finally feel his pelvic bone against your heat. Slowly, you begin grinding forward and backward, the sensation similar to when his palm was slapping against it earlier, though this is much more intense.

"You see, baby? Isn't that better?" His tone makes you absolutely feral. You could have him talk in your ear like that all night. "It does," You rub harder, another orgasm already building up inside you, "Jungkook, I think I'm gonna cum again." "That's it, baby. Make yourself cum again," He coaches. "Okay, okay, okay," You repeat, stuck on a loop as your brain seems to short circuit- all you can think or feel is this pleasure.

With a loud moan, your pussy is pulsing against him in waves of euphoria, you throw your head back in a sudden spasm and then slow down your rhythm, though Jungkook is still going- a delightfully welcomed moment of overstimulation. You want to see what it's like when he reaches that point too.

"Beautiful, when I say, I'm gonna need you to get off okay?" He says throw short gasps. Now who's forgetting to breathe?

"Okay, Jungkook," You say, holding yourself still so he can hold onto you, pounding into you a few more times, "Now," He says, to which your respond by quickly rolling over.

You watch as his cock immediately shoots out that thick milky substance up into the air and then as it drops back down onto his stomach. His face is that of utmost joyousness and delight, "Ah," He breathes, his hand pumping his dick a few times to make sure he's milked every last drop.

He is a sight to behold as he coms down from his high; like Michelangelo's David.

"Wow..." You say simply.

"Wow," He smiles, looking over at you, reaching over to lightly pinch your cheek.

"What did you think?" He asked. "Well, I can honestly say it was the best I've ever had." "Oh shut up," He chuckles, though he brings you in closer to him. Being in his arms like this...it's one of the nicest feelings you've ever experienced. No man has ever shown you this level of affection, and knowing he's the first...it feels good. It feels right.

After a moment, he pulls away, covering his crotch sheepishly, "I'm gonna go to the bathroom really quickly."

You laugh and wave him away, taking the opportunity to stretch out on the bed. Bliss; that's the only way to describe this present feeling.

A vibration against the nightstand brings you out of your daze and when you look over, you realize it's Jungkook's phone- and then you realize it's a text... from Lisa.

𝗟𝗶𝘀𝗮: 𝗞𝗼𝗼𝗸𝗶𝗲, 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂? 𝗜 𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂 <𝟯

Your heart begins to pound in your chest. You look over at the bathroom door, still closed, though you've heard a flush.

Without another thought, you dart out of the bed, quickly yanking on your clothes, making sure to leave absolutely no trace of yourself behind in that room.

You finally hear the bathroom door open though when you do, the hotel room door is already clicking shut behind you.

A/N: Hope y'all enjoyed this spicy one! Took me all day to write. Clearly, it's about to get juicy.

#bts #jungkook #suga #bts imagine #jin #namjoon #jimin #bangtan sonyeondan #angst #jungkook x reader #bts smut #bts fanfic

[rottenpumpkin13]

oooooo now you’re making me want to read the scenario you described (Rufus trying to tell Sephiroth he owns him and making him snap.) that sounds absolutely delicious

I tried my best!

• The air in the boardroom that evening is heavy enough to prompt Lazard to loosen his tie before it suffocates him. The board of directors—along with Sephiroth, Lazard, and Tseng—convened urgently following the sudden demise of President Shinra and the takeover of Rufus.

• Sephiroth has his reasons for despising Rufus as it is, and is not at all happy about having to take orders from him from now on.

• Rufus on the other hand is entirely motivated by ambition and a restless desire to assert his authority over everyone—but especially his late father's bastard.

• He proposes a ruthless course of action detrimental to SOLDIERs interests, so rash that it's clear to Lazard and Sephiroth what he's trying to do. Sephiroth can't keep quiet and unbothered this time. He is bothered, and he is angry for so many reasons.

• Sephiroth vehemently opposes Rufus's gross proposal. By the way his voice—usually leveled and collected—now rang angrily throughout the room, the other directors could sense the situation was bound to escalate quickly. Rufus was not one to be reprimanded by someone he deemed inferior to him.

• Sephiroth's determination to put Rufus in his place is fueled by the knowledge that Rufus was the reason why Glenn is dead. He refuses to let him harm his other friends.

• Rufus knows that Sephiroth knows. And it's his reason why he keeps quiet when Sephiroth is finished, letting the SOLDER's words sit in the air, untouched and uncured for by the rest of the room, who are waiting nervously to hear Rufus' response.

• Rufus, in turn, will come to wish he had kept quiet.

• "I own Shinra now, and by extension, I own you. Unlike Glenn, who met his fate due to disobedience, you will learn to toe the line or suffer the consequences." Rufus hums. "Much like Glenn."

• Sephiroth is enraged. He had the fire burning inside him all these years, but Rufus drenched it in gasoline. He unleashes an ugly floor of rage that tears at his throat, where no scream will come out.

• Sephiroth launches himself across the the table, hands gripping closed around Rufus's throat, cutting off his words and his breath in one swift move he had been waiting years to make.

• Chaos erupts in the room as attempts to pry Sephiroth from the president prove futile against the strength of the SOLDIER. Lazard is quick to call for reinforcements, summoning Genesis and Angeal to intervene before tragedy strikes and Sephiroth does something he'll regret.

• The aftermath for Rufus isn't pretty. Sephiroth nearly crushed his wind pipe completely and left wounds that made it impossible to talk or much less breath without aid. The doctors say he'll be fine, but each labored breath serves as a reminder of how Sephiroth is now a danger.

• And so Rufus issues an order to Hojo, commanding him to take whatever measures he can to restrain Sephiroth and make sure he never has the power to come after him ever again.

• Hojo knows his glorious experiment, and is aware that Sephiroth won't agree to restraints or control so easily—if at all. As much of an inconvenience as it is, he admires that the boy has boundaries. It's interesting. All the more opportunity to bypass them without him knowing.

• So Hojo administered sedatives under the guise of medical treatment, telling him the pills and injections are for his anxiety and stress only.

• Sephiroth doesn't regret the attack, but he is frightened by his own strength. He figures the treatment for his anxiety will help him.

• The sedatives render Sephiroth a hollow shell of his former self.

• Sephiroth's existence becomes a haze of medicated numbness, the essence of who he once was stripped from him and leaving a zombie in its place. The days blur together from him, and he has no other desire other than completing his tasks and obligations before crawling into bed.

• Genesis and Angeal refuse to let this continue. They need to find something, anything, that will pull Sephiroth out of this haze. So they turn to the topic of his origins—more specifically, his mother "Jenova"

• This leads them back to Banora, where they raid Hollander's old lab in search of any bit of information.

• There they find a photograph of a woman matching the exact description of Sephiroth's mother. Except this woman is wearing a lab coat with the name " Dr. Lucrecia Crescent"

• They're confused, and are left with more questions than they had to begin with. But this has to be Sephiroth's deceased mother. He deserves to know about this—whatever this is.

• So they present the photograph to Sephiroth, who is numb at first, until it slowly starts to come back to him. His mother, who he had thought he'd never see again. Except....

• The shock and endless questions pounding at his skull are enough to make Sephiroth gain enough consciousness to confront Hojo. He goes to him, demanding answers , demanding the truth, shoving the photographic proof in his father's face.

• Hojo makes no effort to hide anything. He reveals everything, every ugly detail that Sephiroth had always feared about himself, his existence, his humanity and subsequent lack thereof.

• The revelation of Sephiroth's true lineage plunges him into a depression punctuated by the effects of the drugs on his weak mind. But it doesn't stop him from being angry. If anything, this propels him to take action.

• Damned be Shinra, damned be Rufus and Hojo, and the lies and the very city that had become his gilded cage for so many years. He burns it all to the ground.

#ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #sephiroth #final fantasy vii #ffvii crisis core #genesis rhapsodos #ff7 crisis core #angeal hewley #professor hojo #rufus shinra

[runninriot]

...✍️ should be working on something else but this has been brewing in my mind and nightmare/demon eddie won't let me go

If humans are the creation of a God, Eddie must be the Devil’s work, although he, too, never made himself seen or known.

It doesn’t matter, really, whoever put Eddie in his place, whatever higher power is responsible for giving him the role of a parasitic demon creeping into the minds of people. Infesting them like a disease while they’re resting peacefully, dreaming of better lives and happiness.

Happiness, Eddie can take away with the snap of his fingers, can turn the brightest sunlit dreamland into a pitch black void. Turn beautiful images of loved ones to ash, scorching like burning polaroid pictures before their owner’s eyes. Infecting dreams of gentle hands and soft kisses with dark desires, projecting his own lust for vile things onto his victims’ subconscious to leave them scared, and broken, and confused.

They don’t know Eddie is responsible for all of that and although he never gets credit for it, it fills him with a sense of pride and satisfaction to have this lasting effect on them.

Sadly, he never really gets to taste the fruits of his labour for long enough – his controlling powers are bound to the realms of sleep alone. Once his victims open their eyes to deal with the aftermath of the horrors he put them through, the tethers keeping him tied to their subconscious break, much to Eddie’s regret.

He loves to feed on their emotions but all he can do after they’ve woken up from their haunting dreams, is to observe them from afar. Watching them struggle to deal with fear and restlessness, hazily wandering through the wild garden of poisonous flowers in bloom, grown from the seeds he planted in the eutrophic soil of their minds.

They’re precious creatures, puppets, toys for him to play with. So easy to break. Especially his latest victim, the one he couldn’t let go after his first nightly visit. The one he keeps coming back to.

    Steve.

The one that’s been trying to fight him for days, tried to stay awake for the sake of his own sanity.

But humans are weak. They can only resist their bodies’ needs for so long and Eddie is a patient creature, he’s got time. He can wait.

   Steve, he whispers again into the shadows, his voice a rumbling echo filling the darkness of the room.

And then Steve’s eyes flutter shut, his body and mind finally giving in to exhaustion and overstrain from trying to stay awake.

    Finally, Eddie growls through gritted teeth, creeping closer to the motionless body on the bed.

He allows himself a moment to watch the pretty man’s soft features, the steady rise and fall of his chest as he falls deeper and deeper into restful sleep – not for long, though.

Eddie smiles, wicked and hungry, licking his sharp teeth in anticipation of what’s to come.

   “It’s playtime.”

[here's a snippet from Steve's POV]

#eddie munson #steve harrington #demon eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #wip

[nereidprinc3ss]

i know we’re all excited for part 4 coming and ofc I don’t want you to get overwhelmed but i was wondering if we could have Spencer’s POV?

in one of the scenarios, he stated that he was in falling in love for reader and it has been noticeable that he has gotten laid with more/other women in the past.

i would like to know more about how was spencer as a lover back in that time like how he felt after s*x and stuff, like a flashback or something and how his relationship with reader has changed him, his own perspective. BUT ofc, you don’t have to if you don’t want to. it’s all good if you choose to ignore this; ily. thanks for always feeding us. we love being your children💗💗

hi love i actually do have headcanons for dybmn!spence’s romantic/sexual history and idk if they’re ever going to fit into that series but i’d be happy to share them here!!

18+ under the cut/season 8 spoilers barely

so basically in my head he loses his virginity to elle greenaway (DUH) and they actually have a little bit of a relationship but the dynamic isn’t quite right because she’s going through all her own shit and at that time of spencer’s life it’s more simple for him. like she’s his first everything and he’s super in love with her but she is older and more experienced and really cares for him but knows for a lot of reasons that this wide eyed rose tinted view he has of her and their idealized relationship is never going to work out. #ILOVEELLEGREENAWAY but anyway they are never exclusive and in the dybmn universe i think he doesn’t necessarily SLEEP w lilah archer but they hook up in that pool beyond just making out mwaha but he’s just a little guy like he’s not CHEATING on elle because they’re not exclusive but she realizes she’s way too into him and that actually ends up figuring into why she leaves the BAU like yes it’s everything with her trauma too but that’s part of it because she knows she can’t sustain that relationship and being much older than him she’s the responsible party so yeah. i also think that time he visits her hotel room was maybe the last time they hooked up

after that i think he kind of develops a pattern of sleeping with women who are older/more experienced than him because he’s just used to being around older people anyway and he feels he can relate to them better and im imagining this is like seasons 2-4 spencer so it’s him and a bunch of hot 30-40 year old women (and probably men) and he’s just like a slut honestly like he’s really easy because he desperately craves affection and validation and i’d say he continues slutting himself out in that way for many seasons, but slowly with people who are more his age, probably until like around season 8 when he meets maeve and then all that shit happens and he kinda is just not into sex or romance for a long while. and i think after that he occasionally will hook up w someone but his main slut era was like seasons 2-6. (it slowed down when his migraines started but did not stop because he’s unstoppable) (he also may have had an actual relationship during this season 7 period in my mind. idk why i just sense there was someone before maeve. no i will not be providing reasoning season 7 spencer just looks like he has a girlfriend)

anyway. the number of bodies that man has is unknown. it may be a number so high we can’t conceive of it. he’s a capital doubleyew Whore unfortunately. but he’s rlly reigned it in by the time he meets reader which can be whenever you want but i picture it as being anywhere from season 9-14. and i think by the time he meets her he really is like basically celibate. like he hasn’t been with anyone by choice for a long while by the time he meets her. he is a retired slut if you will.

saliently i don’t think he ever does anything with jj. that is a purely imaginative thing for him and he lowkey has a madonna whore complex about her. i don’t think he was ever really in love with her he just loved the idea of the pretty blonde girl loving him back. but that is a whole other thing. and he’s way over it when he meets reader.

n e way those r just my silly thoughts. like i said i don’t think i’m ever gonna fit this into the actual narrative but yeah that’s what ive been imagining!!

#asks #ramblings

[zharaely]

The Birth of a Hero was weird...

Putting aside the fact that it was actually written to be a guidebook for Kim Rok Soo, it was so obvious how weird The Birth of a Hero was as a 'novel' looking back, especially when you re-read the early chapters of TCF. It was weirdly detailed and descriptive about what should've been minor or unnecessary information if it was actually a novel.

For example, The Indestructible Shield, which was an ancient power that wasn't owned or found by anyone in the novel but just so happens to be in the Henituse Territory. It wasn't related at all to the main characters, but TBOAH went into detail about the ancient power's history, its original owner, its location, how to obtain it, and the response to expect once you feed the man-eating tree. I wonder whether Kim Rok Soo ever questioned why Nelan Barrow would write so much about something 'not important' while reading TBOAH, if whether or not the author just decided to ramble about world lore he made up but couldn't tie into the main story. Kim Rok Soo is better than me because I would've gotten really bored.

Also, TBOAH didn't just get into detail about the Ancient Powers either, since it also had a LOT to say about the Original Cale Henituse, his family, and the territory in general. From the very beginning, when Kim Rok Soo wakes up in the body of Cale Henituse, he goes to the bathroom to find the full body mirror the Original Cale Henituse had that was mentioned in the novel. That is INCREDIBLY random information to mention about a minor villain whose sole purpose was to get beaten up by the protagonist. But it doesn't happen just once. When Cale asks Deruth for an allowance, he recalls that the Original Cale also received a large allowance but the exact amount was never mentioned in the novel. Later on, when Ron serves Cale lemonade instead of cold water, he recalls again how the Original Cale hated sour things just like himself.

If he really was inside of the novel, he knew that there should be a large mirror inside.

As expected, the full body mirror was inside the bathroom. Cale Henituse, who had a lot of interest in his appearance and physique, had this mirror set up in here. Nobody else in the household had such a mirror.

The novel did mention that Cale received a large allowance, but it did not mention the exact amount. However, he could realistically understand how large it was based on the amount listed on the cheque.

He really is an insidious man. He knows that, just like Kim Rok Soo, the original Cale hates sour things. But he still chose to bring lemonade, which would take more work to prepare than cold water. [...]

It's pretty obvious by now that TBOAH went deeper into the Original Cale Henituse's character than a normal novel should have in just the first volume, like how he despised gangsters and scammers or how he had horrible aim when drunk, and his relationships with Ron and his family. Kim Rok Soo would recall reading about flashbacks to Cale being woken up by a servant that wasn't Ron which led to a ton of swearing, Cale breaking everything at his spot in the bar once, and Cale getting a scar on his side while drinking the night before meeting Choi Han. The novel also mentioned things that no one else but the Original Cale Henituse knew about, such as how he had high alcohol tolerance but just flushed easily which made people assume he was lightweight. if I were the one reading TBOAH, I would've started to wonder whether the author was planning to make Cale Henituse an important character later on (and maybe he was, but there were only 5 volumes).

The Henituse Family wasn't mentioned as much as Cale was, except for how people pushed the 15-year-old Basen to be the head of the family and how Basen started acting as the family's successor since 2 years ago, but it's odd enough that Nelan Barrow decided to describe characters that Choi Han never even meets (if we assume he only encounters Cale and Deruth and no one else in the family). There were even descriptions of the slums in the Henituse Territory and the Henituse Family business, like???

All of it further cements the fact that The Birth of a Hero was very much a guidebook written for Kim Rok Soo, who was going to swap bodies with Cale Henituse, and to help him adjust to his new life and plan for the future. The novel was fucking suspicious from the start!!!

#trash of the count's family #lout of the counts family #cale henituse #kim rok soo #original cale henituse #thebirthofahero #choi jung gun #nelan barrow #tboah #it felt off since my first read but it made a bit more sense on my re-read #50% of TBOAH was about Choi Han's adventures #the other 50% was CJG rambling about random side character facts and world lore

[dinogoofymutated]

SFW!Cable/GN!reader - Pt 2.

@gildedjerk YOU DID THIS TO ME. I was supposed to finish my homework an hour ago but I wrote this instead. I literally haven't written a part 2 to anything this quickly ever. what is happening to me

Read pt 1 here :)

TWS: Angst with happy ending. Falling buildings, minor depictions of death, timeliness bullshit, big man cries and we smooch him. Possibly part 3 if the mood takes me

 For the first time in a long while, Nathan is panicking. Buildings in the city are crumbling around him, sentinels closing in around every street corner- and he can't find you. He calls out your name, and you don't respond. He reaches for you, searching for your mind with the telepathic ability he can spare- and he can't feel you. 

    He can't feel you.

    For the first time, he's more struck with the absence of your running mind than he had ever been annoyed by it.

    He should have gone with you. He never should have let you split away from him. The two of you were a duo. No matter how much grief you gave him when you first started to tag along, he couldn’t imagine life without you. He refused to. Cable narrowly dodges a falling fire escape, and he knows he’s running out of time. He calls for you, again, and again- and there’s no response. He can’t let this happen. He won’t. 

    Cable bolts down the street as the smoke billows and the world crumbles. The device on his wrist beeps, and his blood runs cold when he realizes it’s a warning. Still- he perseveres. He follows the psychic echo you left behind, rounding every corner he can, staying on your scent like a bloodhound. He wouldn’t leave without you. Not again. 

    He’s getting closer, he can feel it- but his fear only grows, knowing that you were so close, and yet he can’t feel you. He can’t find that beautiful mind of yours.  He can’t find your memories. Your nervousness. Your running mind. He can’t feel that love he was so afraid of anymore- and he is so scared for an entirely different reason than before. 

    He follows your trail through a warehouse, weaving in-between the machinery as he hears the distinct sound of a sentinel, but he’s horrified when he realizes it’s not coming towards him. Towards you. It’s walking away. Cable exits the warehouse, and on the other side, he finds… nothing. 

    Cable finds rubble. The building in front of him is rubble. He hears the shrieking of metal as the building on his left begins to fall, but he’s preoccupied. A beeping is heard, but it doesn’t come from him. It sounds again and again. Never stopping. 

    Cable sees the blue light from underneath the rubble, and he finds a device identical to his own. It’s still attached to your arm, but you are not there. Your mind is not there.

     The building to his left finally gives in to the weight and falls. 

    A stabbing influx of… something, strikes Cable’s forehead, and he wakes up in a cold sweat, lying on the cot in the safehouse. His body is disoriented, his mind chilled with something more than just horror. Cable realizes that it wasn’t a dream, It was a vision. It was the future. A future. 

    It was real. It felt so real. He’s not entirely sure it hadn’t happened. Cable sits up frantically, looking towards your cot to find you. But you’re not there. His mind is still addled by the influx of information, powers mixed and scatterbrained, unable to find and feel. The one thing it still seems able to do is keep the virus at bay. He’s stumbling as he stands. Cable slams the bedroom door open, that cold horror all he can think of as his mind cannot find you in its haze.

    He moves through the house like a storm cloud, opening every door, searching for you in the same meticulous manner he uses to search the house for threats.

    You find him before he finds you. Having heard the commotion, you exited the kitchen, stepping into the hallway halfway wondering if there had been a breach in the security. 

    “Nate?” The footsteps stop abruptly when you call out for him, only to pick up the pace a second later. Cable looks absolutely furious when he exits a spare room, storming over to you in a manner that almost makes you afraid he’s going to yell at you.

    But he doesn't. The moment Nathan reaches you, he takes hold of your face, and he kisses you like he’d never get the chance to kiss you again. It’s desperate, almost forceful- but after a moment of confusion, you kiss him back. His hold is all-consuming, presenting his love and care for you out of urgency, and necessity. Nathan only pulls away when his thoughts pull back together. He looks at you in shock, like he himself hadn’t expected the kiss to happen. He looks worried. Scared. You pull him down by his collar to kiss him again- if only to wipe those emotions clean from his face. Tears are running down his face, but he can’t bring himself to pull away from you like he had so many times before.

    He kisses you again, and again, hoisting you up into his arms when his back starts to hurt from bending down to reach your height. Nathan sets you on the kitchen counter, finally pulling away from you- and he begins to sob.

    However afraid he was to fully experience the love you had for him- the fear of losing you without showing you his love had triumphed it all. You hold him close as he sobs into your shirt, wrapping him in your love. You don’t know what started this. What set him on this path when yesterday was spent the same as any other day for the two of you- dancing around each other. Leaving the ties blurry. Leaving your love unclear, choosing not to tread through the rapid waters just yet. -but what did that matter anyway, when he had kissed you with such intense emotion? You’re concerned for him. You’re worried for him. You love him. You love him. You love him. Nathan wants to bury his mind so deep within your thoughts, like a warm blanket that kept all of his self-made fears of intimacy at bay. That made them disappear.

    Nathan doesn’t want to show you what he had seen. What someone had made him see. He doesn’t want you to experience the fear, the pain. Despite all of his confusion, his pain, what he did know was that he was never going to let that happen. He didn’t care what timeline he had to tear apart, what plan for the future he had to ruin. He had lost so much in life, but he wasn’t going to lose you. Not again. Not ever.

#x men 97 #x men #x men comics #x men 97 x reader #x men headcannons #cable headcannons #cable x reader #cable xmen #cable imagines #nathan summers headcannons #nathan summers x reader #nathan summers #c