#it looks fine on desktop I promise you

[luveline]

hii hope youre doing well! could i request coworker!james where r comes in to work sick and he gets worried?

fem!reader, 1.3k

It’s getting old, the whole charade. James didn’t like you and now he does. You used to piss him off, now you don’t. Somehow, someway, he’s seen parts of you he couldn’t help but love, in your voice, how you talk; in your hands, your touch; in your emails worst of all. Who ever thought that James could fall in love on Outlook? 

Dearest desk mate,

Where are you? It’s 9.45 and you aren’t here. You realise work starts at 8.30? Besides my worry, I need the invoice for Lang and Co. and Remus doesn’t have them either.

You’re my only hope, 

James

You email back a stringy fifteen minutes later. 

James, 

I’ll be there soon. I can’t attach the file from my phone but I will send it to you the second second I get there, I know you asked meyesterday. I’m sorry for holding you up .

James reads your email with a frown. Your typos are unlike you. He wonders if perhaps you’re texting and driving, which is abhorrent, but you walk into the office a minute later, so you must’ve been responding to him as you walked. 

You duck straight into the manager’s office. James can hear you say sorry before the door is fully closed, craning his neck for a good look at you. 

Remus laughs shamelessly. “Worried about her?” 

“About who?” he asks, even as his chair creaks and threatens to snap under his weight, leaning back to see you through the frosted glass. 

“She’s not going anywhere now she’s here, James. Nobody stops by for social visits.” 

James relents when he realises you may be in there for a little while. The rain today is aggressive against the window, condensation dripping down the windows to pool atop the radiators. You hate it; you love the radiators when they’re working in the winter, but sad summer days with rubbish weather bog you down. Either way, the condensation wets your elbows or gathers on your desk —it’s not nice. James grabs a wad of tissues from the box on his desk and begins his quick mission. 

“Oh, my god. Jamie, you can’t be serious.” 

“I'm avoiding electrocution.” 

“You’re cleaning up for her,” Remus says, putting his face in his hand to watch him with a softer smile, “it’s nice of you, really, but you can’t expect me to pretend I believe you when you say you don’t like her for much longer if you’re going to do stuff like this.” 

“Now say that five times fast.” 

His heart drops when you clear your throat, caught, sodden tissue in hand. You don’t eyeball him, there’s no scorn, you clear your throat again and all but collapse into your seat. 

“Hey,” James says. 

You tip your head back. “Hi, James.” Your eyes are bloodshot, and, to James’ surprise, you aren’t wearing a lick of makeup. You look very pretty but very tired, too. 

“You okay?” 

Remus bends around the desktop. “Yeah, are you okay? 

“I’m fine,” you drop your head back with some vertigo, and press your hands to your eyes. “I’m not very well, is all.” 

“What’s wrong?” Remus asks. 

“Just poorly. Um, I have a bad headache, and my ears are ringing, but it’s not unmanageable. I’m full of sudafed.” 

“Can’t you go home? We can manage without you until you’re better,” Remus says.

“I had all that time off a few weeks ago,” you say. You’d been ill not so long ago. 

“You can have some of my sick days,” James says immediately. 

You rub your eyes hard enough to make James’ ache in sympathy. “Doesn’t work like that.” 

“You really shouldn’t be here if you’re sick,” James says. 

“I won’t get you sick, I promise. I brought hand sanitizer, I’m not sneezing or coughing, I’m just aching.” Your movements are lethargic as you lean back in your chair, the slow roll of your shoulders and the limp cross of your arms over your stomach hard to ignore. 

James rounds the desk to chuck his tissues in the little bin beneath it. “I don’t think either of us are worried about you getting us sick, lovely.” 

Your face crumples quickly and neatens up again just as fast. “My head just hurts,” you say, rubbing your forehead. You manage to summon a wobbly smile despite your pinched brows. “I’m fine, don’t worry.” 

If it were Sirius, James would thrust a bottle of water and a pack of ibuprofen at him and tell him to chill out. It it were Remus, the expression would turn his heart, and he’d give his friend a good pat on the back. You aren’t Sirius nor Remus, you’re not so close to him that James knows what to do, but what use is he if he doesn’t try?

“Can I make you a cup of tea?” James asks. 

“That’s cruel,” Remus says, “your tea is like milky disappointment.” He stands with a smile James hates, some playful conniving mixture with good intentions deep, deep down. “I’ll make it. James, why don’t you turn the radiator?” 

“Is that okay?” James asks. 

“What?” 

“Do you think that’ll make you feel better, the radiator?” James asks. 

“I can do it.”

“No, it’s okay, it hurts your hand. I’ll turn it up.” He weaves back in between your chair and the radiator. Your desk is close enough to be faced with your thighs, but James doesn’t get half as distracted by them as he does your twitchy face. 

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks. 

“You and Remus worry too much.” You give him the side eye. “Why do you care?” 

“I think we’re a little bit past pretending we don’t like each other, aren’t we?” 

He turns the radiator on with less struggle than he’s anticipating and holds his hand to the bottom until he feels the metal warming. “Tell me if that gets too hot for you,” he says, standing. 

“Thank you.” 

“It’s no problem.” 

“No, really,” you say, rubbing the bridge of your nose, “thanks for worrying about me. I’ll feel better in an hour.” 

“Did you eat breakfast?” He brings his hand up to wipe a stray fibre from your cheek, “Why were you late?” 

“I…” Your eyes follow his hand as he lowers it. Emboldened, James raises it again, wiping at a phantom fibre. “What is it?” 

“Little hair on your cheek.” 

“I slept late, and I felt strange in the car so I parked for a bit, and… I don’t know. I should’ve stayed home, but you know what he’s like about sick days.” 

“You feel alright now, other than the headache?” 

“Just heavy.” 

James spots Remus coming back and steps away. “You’ll be alright, okay? Don’t worry too much. Do some of the top spreadsheets and we can manage the rest.” 

“You don’t have to do that for me.” 

James does, really. Remus gives you your mug of tea and one of the plastic wrapped muffins from the kitchen, both boys keeping watch over you like a vigil. If you were well enough to notice you’d complain, but you spend the next few hours sipping at your tea as it turns cold, and nibbling at little bits of muffin, clearly tired. 

You email James the Lang and Co. invoices four hours after he’s asked for them with a sorry and a frowny face emoticon. James wants to kiss you on the forehead, feels it so strongly it becomes a different kind of wanting, to look after you and for you to want him to do that. He’s in way too deep. There’s not much he can do. 

“You want some more tea?” he asks, leaning over to grab your discarded mug.

“Yeah, please, Jamie.” 

James’ fingers wobble around the mug. 

Remus glances up from his phone. 

“Of course,” James says, smiling, “coming right up.” 

Jamie, he thinks. Friends call him Jamie. He can be your friend, he’d love to be your friend, but Jamie. Even sick, you say it sweetly. He trips over himself trying to get what you asked. 

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter fic #james potter fluff #james potter blurb #james potter drabble #james potter imagine #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #james potter scenario #james potter oneshot #the marauders #marauders era #marauders

[iznsfw]

You are now obliged to write an Eunbi smut

Waterbombed

IZ*ONE's Kwon Eunbi x Male Reader Smut

5,835 words

Categories | daddy kink, anal, jealousy, squirting, breast worship, fingering, titfucking, spanking, slight exhibitionism

Sorry not sorry for the Eunbi spam—I promise I'll write the other members and other idols after this. Waterbomb Festival Eunbi is just too hot.

Enjoy.

Tokki 🐰: oppaaaaaaaaa

This can't be good. Eunbi's bombing your phone again with ridiculous messages designed to attract your attention. It won't work today, though. You've got a lot to do, and besides that, she's equally busy. She's out there performing in some festival Woollim booked, and it's safe to say that it should have brought about only peace in your office cubicle. No videos, no flirty texts, no nada—that's how it should have been.

But one thing you've learned when dating Kwon Eunbi is to expect the unexpected. Too bad you didn't keep that in mind when you finally gave in and picked up your phone. Work can wait for a few minutes, right?

You: What is it ?

Tokki 🐰: have you seen my performance yet :]

You don't think so. The day's been too packed to make space for a quick watch.

You: Not yet love im busy

Tokki 🐰: you should oppa

becauseeeee

i really enjoyed performing at the waterbomb festival!!!!!

Waterbomb Festival?

Isn't that—

It slowly hits you, as if the information were a hesitant slap on the shoulder. Thoughts come blending into each other in your head and forming a quaky conclusion. Could it be…?

Open another tab on your work desktop. You quickly flock to YouTube. Never mind if your boss sees the history through the internet router. You have to know if your suspicions are true. 

Your experienced fingers spell out a search query into the curved search bar. In flash-paced impulse, you type out: "권은비 워터밤."

Then there it is: several fan-recorded videos of your girlfriend, your ever-so-precious and playful Eunbi, dressed in nothing but a flimsy bikini top and a see-through cardigan. Her hair is soaked from the sprays and shots of water coming at her, but she's smiling—she looks like she's having the time of her life.

The played previews of the videos are endless loops of her chest rippling and bouncing with her wide movements, even cutting to a clip where she's running her hands up her exposed body, grinding her hips down as if you were there on the stage with her, invisible yet still present. 

No wonder she didn't want you to attend. You insisted, but she asked that you did what you had to do. 

You're a good man. At least, you try to be. Eunbi's her own person and you're completely fine with whatever she does, even suggesting the kinds of tattoos she could pick out when she went to get some. They're what gave you the inked places to kiss her.

But she knows what she was doing with this. It's impossible not to discern that.

Look around before closing the tab with shivering breaths, then pick up your phone.

You: ????? 

You told me it was a festival

Not the WATERBOMB festival

Tokki 🐰: oh come on whats the difference 

and you don't own me >:(

i can do whatever i want

:PPPPP

She's got a point, but her intent with this is so obvious, with the lewd expressions she fires the audience and all, that—

You: Oh

So that's how it's going to be, huh.

It's maddening how your picture of her jumping around giggling as she types another message to you is probably accurate. 

Tokki 🐰: yes :3

can you come pick me up?? 

The audacity of this girl sometimes.

But forget it; as any good boyfriend would, you're picking her up. You'll do more than pick her up. 

-

Getting there in the guise of her manager isn't easy. You've had to negotiate with him, explaining that you'll pick her up on your own and save him the trouble. I'm a friend of hers, you said. I just want to congratulate her performance, you added. He gave you suspicious looks, but once he saw her name in your contacts, he ultimately agreed.

Driving through the crowd isn't easy either, but you manage to do it. You have your emotions to thank for that. Lust and jealousy, as you've learned, are like demons—they possess you, control you to the point that they invade other aspects of your life. Asmodeus sure likes tinkering with you, and you're just sitting there in the driver's seat letting him? If that's the case, you'd have to attend the Waterbomb Festival itself to wash yourself of hell's flame.

Heat begins to fill the room when you see her though. You'd adlib a pun into the script here, say a joke about how it's only hot because Eunbi is. But you're too turned on by the sight of her tits on display, poorly contained by the thin bikini and held together by one single button of the transparent cardigan.

Her smile pushes you on. She knows what you're here for, but she loves playing dumb as much as she loves provoking you. It's all going according to her plan.

Every bit of her insane curves sway in an aesthetic, almost rehearsed way at you as she approaches. Her hair is still wet, and maybe there's another thing wet, too; her thighs squirm together too much to be merely out of the soaked sprays aimed at her at the festival.

Eunbi's eyes sparkle. Makeup can't fabricate that glimmer.

"Daddy," she says, with conviction. With meaning. 

The hair on the back of your nape rises.

Eunbi's pushing you to the empty seat in the room, soon filling your lap with her soft presence. "You really came? I thought you were mad at Eunbi."

There she is again with the third-person thing. The daddy thing, too. She knows it's your weakness, hearing a pretty girl like her who pretends not to know of her effect on people get on her knees and call you what she shouldn't. You won't lie; it's insanely hot, but when she's grinding her round ass down on your growing bulge with that tiny bite of her lower lip, you, as usual, aren't passive. You aren't moved by her coaxing. You refuse to be. 

"Watch it," you warn anyway, a hand on one of her womanly hips. You massage it, a cautionary message written in your movements. Now you brush a thumb over her midriff and draw small gasps out of her.

"I'm n-not doing anything." 

Innocent as her voice is, her outfit isn't—the patterned bikini top barely holds on to her plentiful breasts, and the cardigan is useless anyway with how clear its seams are. 

"Daddy," Eunbi says again, the pout on her lipsticked mouth growing, "don't tease."

"I'm not doing anything," you say, happy to use her line against her. 

You love and live to see the weak expressions on her face when you trail your hands gently to the scope of her tits. If they barely fit the bikini, what more in your hands? They're too soft in your fingers as you gingerly toy with them. Her nipples poke the fabric of the top and brush your palms.

Eunbi's gasps frequent. "Please."

"What is this, baby?" you ask. "You go to a festival made for perverts and you make a scene anyway. And now you want me to take this off—"

Unbutton the single thing holding the cardigan together, slipping it off her shoulders. The bare, revealed body in front of you is something the Waterbomb Festival goers were able to see first—just under the gauze of the poor outerwear. It triggers an unhinged emotion in you, something that goes like: mine mine mine.

"—call you a good girl—"

Eunbi's lips are pursed as you touch her everywhere. She's completely soaked after her viral feat at the festival, but there's another thing down below that's wetter. Showing herself off to everybody, men and women alike, has her wet to the core. 

Your touch teases yet lingers, stays yet strays. She grinds down on your lap needily. 

"—and expect me to fuck you? Really?"

Eunbi's truly all bark but no bite. Her feistiness through texts doesn't translate in real life, wherein she completely melts when you just let your fingertips glide along her waiting skin. Just look at her heaving bosom, her large eyes—she's passiveness itself.

"But you, you liked seeing me up there, daddy," she stammers. Eunbi swallows the moment your hand rests on her cheek. "H-hah, you liked watching me."

She cries out too loud for subtleness at the sudden spank thrown at her tits. 

"Is this what you wanted those men at the festival to do to you?" Slap her bouncing tits again, squeezing before throwing another blow. "Slap your big fucking tits, dick you down right there on the stage for everyone to see?"

"Mmm, ah, you ask too many questions, daddy. Oh– oh my god—"

"If you want to be such a bad girl," you say, a harsh squeeze from your right hand on her boob, "you'll get fucked like one."

Pull down the narrow cup of the bikini to suck on her nipples. Replace the redness on the flesh from your slaps to redness from your mouth. You've placed your hand on skirted ass to keep her on your lap, because she's not going anywhere—she'll stay here, here where you can teach her a lesson. 

You dare to bite just a little. Beneath your palm, Eunbi's form curves and she screams.

"D-daddy!" 

"Sensitive, aren't we?" you ask with a smirk. Your tongue flattens as it licks greedily at her nipples, then retreating to her collarbone and neck. Still, her bountiful breasts are your main focus. 

"Please fuck me. I need it, I can't—"

"Take the skirt off. Bend over." 

Eunbi whines, but you fire her with a look of warning. Hence, she slips out of the white jean skirt. She doesn't even wear safety shorts underneath. Instead, it's a single thong that matches the plaid pattern of the top. She might as well be at a beach with how little clothing there is on her curvaceous body.

Your blood boils, but it settles when she does bend over obediently on your lap, and you enjoy the sight of her breasts dangling before settling on the soft plush sofa. 

"Someone might see, daddy," she protests, though she's already folded in half on the furniture. "The others, they're gonna look."

"You had no problem with that earlier," you say. Circle your palm over the exposed fat cheeks and clench your hand around one, just like you did with her tits. "I should fuck you at the door, make everyone see the sexy little thing they saw at the festival is mine."

"Noooo, please, daddy! The company'll be mad and my fans…oh, my fans—"

"Quiet, baby girl. Let me use you."

Eunbi nods, albeit her shadowed eyes are closed. She whimpers through pursed lips as the first spank capsizes. Her ass moves beautifully, as if it were a dancer just like her. It's hypnotizing, and for that you hit her more. 

"Oh, oh yes, daddy, oh my god," she cries out, her voice thin. "I love it when you spank me. M-makes me want to cum all over you."

"Not a chance after the shit you pulled out there."

Her thong is sticky with her juices. Feel it with your middle finger briefly. Dare to slip through the side to touch her waiting pussy. Eunbi sobs a little, reversing her ass into you, but is met with a spank instead. She winces.

Eunbi's ass is, to be brief, amazing. But even with that you'll go on to say how much you love the supple flesh bouncing in front of you, becoming red from the assault of your hand, clenching to bear the teasing. It's already a surprise that you haven't fucked her senseless already when she's lying stomach first on your lap in a tiny two-piece set, but you love to keep her on edge hankering for you to use her. 

"So you won't let me cum?" asks Eunbi, as if she were really disappointed that she'd be denied something she doesn't deserve. "That's not fair."

"Do you think it's fair to me?" 

"Oh, oh, daddy—" Her legs quake once your fingers nevertheless stuff her hole, and start moving at a pace too early to be set and too much to handle.

Your digits push past her slick walls and fill her over and over. "Presenting what's mine for everyone to see, Kwon Eunbi. And I thought you were a good girl."

"Ohhh, but I am!" Eunbi protests, on the verge of pleasure-induced tears. 

You just know where to touch her, where to fuck her pretty cunt at to reduce her to cum and tears. Nothing's a better combination. Stuff a third finger, and Eunbi gets too tight that you can barely fit. You have to spread your fingers a little to make space, yet she still squeezes down.

Through her struggles and cries she doesn't fail to move her crotch into your fingers. It's like she's in a battle of choices: to have you stop or have you go on forever. 

"I just wanted to have fun, daddy! I wanted you to punish me, to fuck me—"

"Well, you got what you wanted then, little brat. Cum for me. Cum for daddy."

Her screams fire off into the atmosphere like warnings. They have every right to send cautionary messages; Eunbi's a force to be reckoned with when she cums. At times, she'd yell and sob without shame as she came around your cock, tear the sheets with how hard she grasps at their fabric. But now, at a public waiting room backstage at the festival, she's got nowhere and no one to help her bear her orgasm.

So, while you violently fuck her hole with Eunbi-stained digits, her moans start off as what they were, evolving into louder and louder forms, until she's cumming, cumming all over your fingers as if her pussy were one of the water guns itself. Her squirt doesn't miss her thong, but it also doesn't leave your lap empty in its wake.

Oh, and she's screaming. She's crying out your name in pitched tones, carving your thrusts into stronger forces. "Shit, daddy, please!" Eunbi cries, struggling in your lap and squeezing down hard. "Please, daddy, I don't want to ruin your clothes!"

That's sweet of her, but frankly: "I don't care. Cum all over them. Just keep on squirting for me, baby. That's it."

Pull out to rub at her core, forcing more of her girl cum to eject into the air. Eunbi's legs flail and weaken. Her hips gyrate into your finger and flinch after you start spanking her impossibly wet cunt.

"Thank you, daddy," she says between gaspy gibberish and whimpers. She can barely see anything but stars. "My daddy, thank you, daddy, keep spanking my little pussy like that, mmm, I love you, daddy."

Alternate between spanking and rubbing so that the sofa is absolutely stained with her, so that anyone who comes in the room after the session will know that the Kwon Eunbi was railed here. So they know that they can gawk at her amazing body all they want, but she's yours. Yours, and no one else's. 

Eunbi bears it for a few seconds, hips lifting and descending. But it soon becomes too much to bear, for she implores, in a tired voice, "Daddy… stop. Too much."

No problem at all. Stop, like she asked. You never take things too far unless she wants you to, even when she's been bad, which reminds you: "But you're still a bad girl. You need to make it up to daddy."

"I know what to do!" she says, in a sudden cheerful voice she uses when she does her radio gigs. "I can make daddy feel better with this!"

Her legs are still weak, but she gets off your lap with the help of her own eagerness. Eunbi's always so ready to make you feel good.

She kneels, tugging your belt and pants off. Her animated expression at the sight of your cock is adorable, and as you ruffle her hair, you realize you just have to tell her:

"You're so fucking pretty, Eunbi."

Eunbi beams. Her cheeks flush. "Thank you, daddy."

"I bet you'll look even prettier fucking your huge tits on my cock."

"You don't have to tell me what to do," giggles Eunbi. "I'm a big girl."

She completely tears off the bikini top. Her wondrous boobs free themselves from the fabric, baring their flesh to you. It's an attempt to make you drool at the mouth and go bogey-eyed, and you can't say that it isn't successful. 

She squeezes her assets and plays with her nipples. Her fingertips brush and circle over the pink patch of skin as she moans seductively. The knot in your stomach tightens.

"Eunbi," you reprimand her. 

"What?" she says, eyes full of faux innocence. "I was so horny after you fingered me, daddy. You're just so hot when you're mad."

"I'll be madder if you don't let me fuck you."

She laughs. "Don't worry, daddy. Just sit there and relax for me, okay?" Eunbi raises a thumb questioningly.

Lower lip pinned under her teeth, she guides her large breasts to your cock. It takes no effort at all for her to slip your cock between. It's not unexpected either that the big soft skin imprisoning you feels amazing. With their size and impossibly smooth texture, you've no other choice but to moan loudly.

The backside of your length enjoys the space between her tits, while the rounded sides revel in their booby trap. Not a pun, you swear, especially not when your girlfriend's titfucking you, but there's no coherent thought when she's doing it. When she's smiling naughtily. When she's compressing her tits around your length like it's determined to keep you there forever. When—

"You're doing so fucking good, baby."

"Of course," she says happily. "Daddy made me cum even though I was a bad girl, so I'll always be good for him."

"Consider this your punishment, then."

"How is it a punishment if I love it?" 

"Don't start."

Another warning she doesn't heed. "I already have."

Her chest heaves and rests while being instructed by her hands. Eunbi lets a run of spit stream down her cleavage and on your cock as lubricant. Wipe the drool from her chin and offer it to her mouth. Her eyes sparkle with delicateness as she sucks on your thumb. The soft lips wrapping around your finger causes you to wonder what they'd feel like around your girth.

(Next time.)

"Gently," you have to remind her. The constriction of her bust around your cock is a little too much. So is her eager looks. "There's no rush here."

"But I want you to cum," Eunbi says. "I want you to cum all over my big tits you love so much. You love me, don't you? Then cum for me, daddy, show me you love your little baby girl, please?"

Fuck, it's tempting. You'd love to pepper her beautiful face and bust with your cum. She'd look so pretty in it while still keeping the look of pureness in her irises. But you have to hold out. 

She toys with your cock, slapping it against her boob then running its tip on her nipple. Your heart skips a beat, and she smirks. Seems like you're not doing a good job of keeping your daddy persona, but she's good enough to continue rubbing your firm veins on her skin. 

Eunbi's chest is a real-life fleshlight. Soon, your hips start to move of their own accord, and you're meeting her thrusts now, only with a little more force. There's the friction to chase after, too, and you're right at its heel. You're winning the race, already; you can almost taste it—

"Ohhh, daddy!" she says delightfully. Your cum rains on her chest and neck like a storm. The thunder can be your groans that instead of fearing, she relishes. 

"F-fuck," you say. "Fucking brat, take it all—"

Eunbi listens this time. She removes her bosom from enveloping your cock and attaches her mouth to it instead. You've trained her well; she shoves her face all the way down your length, effectively taking it all in her tight throat. Her neck flexes and relaxes. It stimulates you and has your legs bouncing.

Her eyes remain sealed onto you. The brightness in them that they hold so often tells you more than words could: she loves being your good girl as much as she loves being a brat. She loves riling you up but also loves being good and letting you have your way with her. It's what Eunbi keeps living for, and some may say it's an addiction, but if it is, she'd never want to recover. Not if it means having your warm cum down her throat and your hand tangled in her hair.

You call her a good girl more times than you can count. Ruffle her hair all the while and wipe the tears forming in her eyes when she whimpers. It takes a while getting her to get all of your cum—her throat extracts more from you, and it ends up with her gagging just a little. Finally, she makes the move to breathe.

Pants ride her shoulders, but Eunbi smiles. "That wasn't so bad, was it?" she says. "Let's go home now—"

"Oh, no, Eunbi, we're not done."

"H-huh?"

You pull her up and into your lap, her butt parked only a little away from your cock. Eunbi wears a shocked look on her face, and it only adds up to the hotness of her wearing nothing but a Burberry thong while on your thighs.

"I still have to teach you a lesson," you tell her between firm squeezes on her butt. "You think I forgot?"

"Why?" she whines. Her hands fidget with your shirt. "I've been a good girl, haven't I? You got to cum!"

"And I'm not stopping." Guide her hips to dance along the head of your length. Brush against her engorged clit. Tease her slit. "Fucking ride my dick."

You push her down. Eunbi cries out, her nerves still on a high after her previous orgasm. To be fair, you're a little sensitive, too, but you look forward anyway to cumming in her tight little pussy. It could happen any time when she's just so fuckable, her busty self bouncing and squirming on your girth, and her face never failing to not hide the pleasure she's going through. You can feel her twitch and spasm, but of course, you keep slamming her down on your lap like she's a little rag doll.

"Daddy!" she screams. "Please, oh fuck, you're so big!"

She's a little greedy herself. If you wanted to fuck her till she came and begged you to stop, she wanted it more. She's wild and unhinged as she rides you, impaling herself with your rod though you cumming in her would do more bad than good, but when it pokes every good spot and stretches her tiny cunt better than any toy or a couple of fingers, she might as well do it with no regrets.

Kiss her collarbone and keep a hand on her ass to guide her. Squeeze; her moans break. Then Eunbi's looking at you with crazed eyes, deluded and dizzy with pleasure, as you slap her fat ass and let her wet core press its walls around your penis like a trap. This whole thing's a trap if you really looked at it, from the appearance at the Waterbomb Festival to the outfit she's wearing, but if that were so, you'd want no parole. If being jailed in her hole means getting this delicious tightness and hearing her whiny loud moans every second, you'd appeal for a life sentence.

She might as well be liquid—the roll of her hips is too fluid to be that of a human. But you've seen her fancams from the festival and guess that it was a manifestation, a prophecy for this to happen. Your cock can't be anything other than solid, however. Eunbi's too sexy a girl for your erection to be nonexistent.

"That's it, Eunbi." Lean back a little into the wet sofa to let her do her thing. "Ride that fucking cock. Fill that tight pussy."

"I will, daddy," she responds, nodding as if in a spell-cast trance. Maybe it's true; the heat brewing in the small of her stomach is too good to be true. "Yes, please, I love your big cock, it feels so good inside me."

You don't even have to guide her anymore. She's fully fucking herself on you, her stamina never failing her. Her full thighs strain and her pussy clenches down with a slippery yet firm grip. Groan, then slap her ass. She hums happily. Your relentless upward thrusts and slaps just burn her lust into a complete fire. 

It's a surprise your legs don't collapse on the way to carrying her and fucking her against the wall. It gives you more opportunity to stuff her with you harder. Eunbi's legs spread more, her breathing ragged, and you're kissing her again. You press your lips on hers, then on her neck for which she closes her eyes appreciatively, then her collarbone. There isn't one part of her you don't love. You'd paint her with your cum three times a day like a daily meal if you could.

For now, you binge on lust with her. You eat more of her than you should. But who's making the rules? Whoever they are, let it be known you're breaking them—skin slapping against skin grows louder, almost syncing with Eunbi's repeated moans and your pumps. Her hips and yours create a rhythm together to make it work, to make your cock fit inside her, but she ends up weak and tired anyway.

"Please, daddy. S-suck my tits. I need your mouth on me so bad. Can you give your baby girl what she wants, daddy?" Her pout prods you on. "You can, right?"

"Of course." 

Latch your mouth on one of the bouncing circles of flesh. Nibble, suck, spit, suckle—that's your beginning loop of actions for her. But it becomes frenzied after a while because of how good her folds swallow you, how soft her breasts are. Even as your actions become less and less sequenced, she moans. You never want to hear anything else.

"Yes, yes, yes. Thank you. I, I'm gonna cum soon. Keep fucking me like that and I promise, I promise I'll squirt around your s-stupidly big cock. I will, I will, just fuck me, oh my god. Oh, daddy!"

Eunbi stays true to her word, especially with your thumb toying her clit. She lets out another rush of cum on your crotch. It's wet, it's plenty, it's oh-so-hot when she's screaming helplessly like that, struggling to keep up with your speed. 

Pull out so more of her can spray all over you. If people don't hear your little session in this waiting room, they'll see evidence of it—it ends up on the floor, the sofa, the wall, and your soaked clothes on the ground. Maybe Eunbi's back could have imprinted a mark on the wall too after how hard you fucked her. It's too easy for adoring fans and nonchalant staff alike to find out what happened to their beloved Kwon Eunbi after the festival, and you have a feeling that it's part of what makes Eunbi squirt so much now.

Go south. Keep your fingers on her hips to help her stand. Then, flick your tongue on her clit to help her go through the long stretch of her orgasm.

"Ahh, fuck!" 

Her core tightens again. Her hips flinch and recoil, but you keep firing your sharp little licks long after her climax subsides. 

"Oh, daddy," Eunbi sighs, dizzy, "that felt so good."

"Can you go for more?" 

You're met with a curious look. It's as if she's wondering herself: could she?

"I want to fuck your ass, too, Eunbi." Squeeze her cheek, and her other cheek turns red. "Won't you let daddy fuck this perfect little thing?"

Eunbi shivers. She walks over to the windowsill, steps shaky, and places her hands on it. Then, she looks back at you, coaxing you on. And you have to admit that it's quite the sight, because there she is, in only skimpy underwear and her breasts bare of any covering. 

It's the fact that she's so willing to go and expose herself through the uncurtained window and show everyone who gets to fuck her that makes you approach her. 

"Naughty girl."

Eunbi nods. What's there to deny? Her eyes shut after you spank her.

"If I get to fuck your ass every time you go to Waterbomb," you say, trailing her wetness to her asshole as lubricant and lathering it with her arousal, "I'd let you go here daily."

Eunbi giggles. "So you're not mad anymore, daddy?" she asks hopefully.

Your cock rubs her hole. It teases her, keeps her on the tips of her toes. "Maybe."

Push, just a little. Already she's clenching down unintentionally. Eunbi hisses and shuts her eyes.

"Ffffuck, hnn." Her hands drum a tortured song on the windowsill while her voice strains a melody of darling cries and whines. "Haaah, daddy, you're so big. I don't think I can take it."

"Of course you can," you say, choosing to be gentle this time, "'cause you're my good girl, right?"

"Y-yes. I'll take it for you, daddy—I can do it."

"That's my Eunbi."

Kiss her neck and slowly plunge more inches in her. She keeps letting out soft cries. Her face, showcasing her eyes shut tightly and mouth slightly hung open, reflects into the window. You wonder which group's performing now, and if the audience is too enamored by their song to see the previous sex doll that is Eunbi being fucked at the window. That somehow encourages you alongside her soft moans of pleasure. 

It's Eunbi's first time with anal, and she never imagined she'd experience it here, at a place where anybody can see her pleasure and struggle. She clamps a palm on her mouth.

"Daddy… ahhh, it's so big, daddy!" she cries softly.

"I know. Just spread that tight ass for me, will you? So you can take daddy better?" Smile when she follows your orders. "Thank you, baby. You ready?"

"Mmm." Eunbi hums hesitantly. "Yes."

She said she was, so there's no hesitance on your end in relentlessly fucking her asshole. It gapes a little with the help of her fingers, but Eunbi still wails. Stroke after stroke of your length fills her up and she isn't sure how to deal with the pleasure and pain it brings about. 

Her textured, pink walls might be a close competitor in terms of tightness with her pussy. With how closed its walls are, it nearly refuses to take you in. Try rubbing at her clit. As a result, it clenches around you tighter. Eunbi sobs and huffs as she tries with every inch of her spent body to take you in. 

"Nnnn, daddy! S-so big, so good, it's so good!"

Open her up. Spread the tight cheeks by spanking them. The backside before you grinds and gyrates in response. There's more wetness now on Eunbi's legs, trickling down her skin. Maybe it's sweat? Squirt? Cum? No time to think about it when you're focused on how damn tight she is.

Somehow, your pats and rubs on her core make her tighter. She's restricting you fully, forcing you to draw your hips all the way back to slam inside her. With each, she gasps, as if surprised, and begs again. Begs for more, although her ass is too tight to take more than a few pleasured inches in. Begs you to use her, spank her, which you do although you don't really understand the rest of her sentences. It's all garbled and messy, just like your swift thrusts.

"Pound me, fuck me! Fuck me for everyone to see, daddy, make me cum!"

Now that part's clear as day. You love Eunbi too much to not do what she says.

A few seconds in she relaxes a little. Hence, the rest of your dick goes inside her. You let out a soft groan at how good it feels: finally filling her to the hilt. You kiss her sweaty back, rub her clit, tell her how much of a good girl she is. It takes effect; she grows tighter and more relaxed at the same time. How it's possible, you've no idea, for you live in the present wherein you're fucking Kwon Eunbi's tight ass to no end.

Rub her little midriff. "You want me to fill this pretty stomach with my load, baby? You want me to cream your ass?" 

"Yes, daddy!" 

Now, trail your finger down to her clit where you rub furiously. "Want me to make you squirt again?" 

"Fuck! Daddy!" Eunbi's legs twitch and she throws her head back. "Yes, yes, make me cum, make me cum!"

That you do. Keep the tempo of your thrusts and rubs unsynced so as to let her experience the pleasure from both ends. Let your other hand squeeze and pinch her nipples, and let the fact that only you get to toy with them, not the audience. Not one single man out there gets to fuck her like this, even in his dreams. 

You smile for a bit until you blow your load inside her tight hole. Eunbi's feet finally lose balance and she falls back into you. Continue to thrust in her to ease your climax while she rains her squirt all over the pane and wall. Let a few fingers inside her pussy, too, and the silver rain grows stronger. Plentier. Better.

"So fffucking big, thank you, daddy," she mumbles coherently enough. She kisses your jaw tiredly. "Feels so good in my ass, thank you, I love you, thank you… the best…"

Her repeated whispers are adorable. You wince as you pull out. You're fully and completely drained, and you don't have to guess to know that she is, too.

"Calm down now."

"Okay, I will…" 

"I love you, too, by the way." Your lips meet hers. She kisses back happily.  "Don't forget that."

"Won't… forget…" Eunbi nods. Her heart pounds as fast as yours. "We'll go home now? For real this time?"

"For real this time," you chuckle. Stroke her hair. 

You let her robe fall around her spent body and drive her home. The janitors have a tough time cleaning up the room, luckily only assuming someone spilled water. The scent of sex still hangs around, though.

She's your passenger princess on the way home, but the next three times she'll attend the Waterbomb Festival, she's your toy. You're flying with her to Japan to fuck her anytime, just as a firm reminder that as much as she's loved to show off in the events, you love fucking her more.

#kpop smut #izone smut #soloist smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #kwon eunbi smut #eunbi smut #izone eunbi smut #male reader #x reader #reader insert #pov smut #idol x male reader #idol x reader #obligation #request

[getologist]

suguru watched silently as you focused on your laptop—typing on the keyboard without breaking your gaze through the screen, and suguru almost winced because he knew that your fingers were going numb from how long you were revising your groupmates' papers.

he knew you were tired, and how badly you wanted to finish this damn thesis, how badly you wanted to eat, take a shower, do your skincare, and sleep for the whole day. but the world has always been unfair—and suguru badly wanted to close your laptop and pamper you already.

and as your boyfriend, of course he wanted his baby to eat on time and take care of you. that's what he promised to your parents and to himself since he courted you.

he waited for a few minutes before walking in your shared room, holding a wooden tray with your favourite food. suguru grinned when he saw your fingers stopped from typing, and turned around to see him standing behind you with food that caused you to forget a moment from what you were doing earlier.

suguru pulled a chair and placed it beside you, settling down the plate on the desktop table and the smell of curry reached your nostrils that made your stomach growled. you huffed a breath when the man beside you chuckled.

"later, i have to finish this first." you pouted when suguru didn't listen and took a spoonful of rice with curry before lifting it up, and as much as how badly you wanted to eat, you have to finish the revisions so you can finally get a rest. that was your goal right now—but unfortunately, your boyfriend was making it hard for you to reach that.

suguru glared at you softly when you pursed your lips and moved your head to the other side, "baby, you have to eat." and he said it so softly that you felt your heart beating faster.

but you stood your ground, not wanting to have any distractions. "this is needed in two weeks, and you know there is no one else who would do this other than me."

"you still have two weeks, baby. you have time to work on that."

you shook your head, "i have other things to do aside from this, i still have to do my report, essays, papers-" your words trailed off when you felt lightheaded and winced as you massaged your temple.

suguru clicked his tongue, out of all the things he hated, seeing you getting stressed and struggling was the first thing on his list and he didn't want any refusals coming from you at this point.

without saying a word, he closed your laptop and before you could protest, he gently shoved the spoonful of rice in your mouth. you glared at suguru who had an irritating satisfaction plastered on his face as he watched you munch the delicious rice mixed with curry in your mouth.

you couldn't get really mad at him since the food was really good and made you forget your problems for a second, that's how good your boyfriend was with cooking.

"i know you want to finish all your activities as soon as possible, but please, don't forget to eat and take breaks. it's not a sin, you know." you almost rolled your eyes at the last sentence but you still felt your heart getting warm as you noticed the worry and sadness in his eyes.

silence absorbed the room aside from the sound of the aircon, your cat purring on your shared bed as he slept peacefully, and the soft pitter patter of the rain outside your apartment.

suguru silently took a spoonful of rice and hoisted up; you opened your mouth as suguru fed it to you and munched it without a word. you looked away when you saw an amusement in his eyes.

"i'm sorry," you muttered after you swallowed your food, still looking from outside as the raindrops softly knocked the window. "didn't mean to make you worry."

"it's fine, baby." he held your hand and slowly pulled you into a warm hug, you instinctively wrapped your arms around his waist and hid your face on his neck. his familiar, manly scent brought comfort to you as his fingers combed your hair, while the other gently scratched your back. "are you doing fine? is my baby already tired?"

two questions. those two questions made you think back about how you were doing up recently, and you realized that you weren't having enough rest for the past week. you didn't realize that you were stressed and tired from your groupmates and professors who kept piling up your work.

except suguru, he has always been there silently. he always knew how you were doing, and you just realized that he never forgets to bring you food and always reminded you to take breaks every once in a while.

you nuzzled your face to his neck when your eyes sting from those thoughts, unable to control your emotions anymore and you cry in silence to your boyfriend's embrace. suguru held you tighter, rubbing your back as he pressed kisses to your face where he could reach.

"it's okay to cry, hm? i'm always here, baby."

you stay in that position for awhile before whining, moving away from his neck to wipe the tears on your cheeks, "i shouldn't be crying, this is your fault."

suguru pressed a soft kiss on your lips and smiled, "well, you needed it, and it's not bad."

you pouted, "then give me more kisses to help me feel better."

he laughed in amusement, and his lovesick eyes flickered to yours, "needy, aren't we?"

you wrapped your arms around his nape before pulling him closer, "well, yes. considering how busy i was recently, you didn't give me kisses more than you usually do. you have to pay your debts."

"yes, ma'am." he chuckled against your lips before pressing his lips against yours, kissing you slowly, and you sighed in contentment when you felt his soft lips against you. one week without giving your boyfriend attention that much was really a toll on the both of you.

you pulled him closer to deepen the kiss, mind going blank except suguru's lips at this moment. his hands moving down to your waist, tracing his warm fingertips on your skin under your top.

the tension between you was getting heavier and before the both of you couldn't control yourselves, suguru broke the kiss—chuckling when you whined, trying to pull him closer again.

he shook his head, "baby, no. you have to freshen up, you still haven't finished your food." he pointed at the warm plate, "finish it while i prepare your bath, i'll do your skincare after as well."

"but-"

"no."

"just one last, i promise. one last kiss and i'll do whatever you want." suguru arched an eyebrow before laughing.

"will you?" he hummed, moving himself closer to you to peck your cheek and you nodded. you raised your pinky finger to him, a sign that you were really sincere, in a heartbeat.

suguru chuckled at your antics before raising his pinky finger as well, "god, i love you."

"i know, i love you too," he grinned before giving you the kiss you've always wanted, the kiss that always made your stomach turn—that it never failed to give you butterflies, and the kiss that always made you breathless.

after a whole minute, suguru was the first to break off the kiss again. his chest swelled with pride as he saw how red your face and lips were, how you gasped for air, and how you clutched on his back.

"satisfied?" he muttered and smiled when you nodded subconsciously. he pressed another kiss on the corner of your lips before standing up, "great, now finish your plate as you promised. i'll be at the bathroom when you need something."

you hummed as you took the plate closer to you, still feeling your hands kinda numb and felt yourself a little breathless from the kiss. he's really intense, you thought. but that was one of the things you loved about suguru.

you shook your head as you felt your face getting warm again, you took a large air before exhaling slowly to calm yourself before taking a spoonful of rice from your plate. day by day, you always found yourself falling for suguru harder and harder.

and it was a good thing because suguru falls for you harder and harder everyday as well.

#jjk x reader #geto x reader #geto fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #suguru x reader #suguru x y/n #suguru x you #geto x you #geto x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk fluff #geto suguru

[wntrs0ldier]

AN OFFER II · 05

pairing: mob!bucky x reader words: 3,3k warnings: mafia, language, violence (graphic descriptions), minor character death, mature themes, dark themes, angst, smut, toxic behavior, blood and injury, abuse and sexual abuse, hurt/comfort,

Taking his eyes off you, Bucky turned to Sam. “Go get Clint,” he ordered, his voice — just like his stare — lacking a particular tone; it was emotionless, perhaps with a hint of cooling anger, the seed of which got there completely naturally. Then he looked at Steve, his jaw clenched again. “Get her out of here.”

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The exhibition, crowning the last few months of your work, was going surprisingly well for something you had initially occupied yourself with just to pass the time.

It all started with Bucky’s absence and now he was there — keeping his hand on your lower back, stroking it in a comforting manner, he made you forget about all the things that could go wrong. You watched some people admiring the artwork you’ve collected, exchanged some words, shook some hands, and Bucky didn't leave your side for a second. 

At some point, Tracy appeared right next to you, touching your shoulder to get your attention. “There’s a call from Connie. She couldn’t reach your phone, so she called the gallery. I put her through to your office.”

Your friend, whom you had fortunately dissuaded from the idea of using her leave to attend the exhibition, was currently enjoying her free time on a real vacation. It certainly would have been nice to have her around, but it wasn't worth it; besides, you had solid support coming from not only your husband, but also Steve, Sam and Clint.

“Thanks,” you said, and when Tracy left, you turned to Bucky to hand him your glass with the wine you haven’t had the chance to finish. “I'll be back in a few minutes. An hour tops,” you informed, smirking. 

The corner of Bucky’s mouth quirked up. “Sure. Got any knives I could juggle?” He raised his eyebrows. “You know, to entertain your guests.”

You sized him up, your eyes narrowed. “Do you really know how to juggle..?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged casually. “I can show you somewhere a little more private.” 

“Oh, shut up,” you laughed, smacking his shoulder. 

Bucky’s mouth stretched into a much wider smile as your laugh reached his ears. “I’ll be waiting here,” he promised. Still grinning, you cupped his face and kissed him, then went to the stairs. 

Having hurried into your office, you got to the phone. “Connie?” you spoke with undisguised excitement. 

“Hi, babe,” Connie giggled. “How’s the exhibition? How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine, the exhibition is fine…” you sighed, resting your free hand on the desktop. “I have a lot of buyers, actually. It's better than I thought.” 

“Is one of those buyers your filthy rich husband?” she asked, and if she was here, right beside you, she would probably pinch you teasingly. 

A bright smile came to your lips. “He’s banned from doing that, and is here only for support.”

“That’s really great,” when you heard that, you also heard her smile fade away. “I'm sorry I can't be there for you.”

“Oh, come on, Connie. We talked about this. You deserve a rest, especially from those uptight bankers.” 

Connie said something else, but you got distracted by the sound of the door opening. You looked over your shoulder, and to your surprise, saw Adrian. 

“Y/N? Can you hear me?”

“Uh, Connie? I’ll call you back, okay?” Without waiting for your friend's answer, you hung up the phone. “Can I help you..?” you asked flatly, turning to Adrian. 

“Have you made a decision? About Paris?”

Your eyebrows rose; you secretly hoped that Adrian would eventually use his common sense, and as a result, realize how ridiculous the idea was. “I told you already. I can’t come to Paris with you.”

In a moment of weakness it crossed your mind that, perhaps, you should agree for the sake of the gallery. But Bucky was right — you couldn't sell Adrian your time; not when he was pushing the limits that way, treating you like an object he could do whatever he liked with.

“You are making a mistake. Big mistake,” he stated slowly, and just as slowly covered the space between the door and the desk.

You understood that you were just a woman — a fragile, weak woman, left alone with an offended man; the only thing in that room more fragile than you was only Adrian's pride. And yet, when he approached you, you didn't even flinch, didn’t take your stern gaze off him. 

“Are you sure, Y/N?” he questioned, giving you the last chance to change your mind. “Are you sure what you are doing? You are rejecting the opportunity of a lifetime. And it will cost you a lot. Can you afford it?”

He grabbed your forearm rapidly. Twisting it, turning your body, stiff and paralyzed with sudden panic, he pushed you, then pressed against the desk. The moment you collided with the hard surface, the air abruptly spilled out of your lungs, leaving you breathless, and the hit your chin took from crashing onto the desktop cut your bottom lip open; the rusty taste of blood settled on your tongue. 

One of Adrian's hands, which had wrapped around your forearm earlier, moved to the nape of your neck and pressed your torso down to the glass surface; his legs pinned your thighs to the edge, at the same time opening them for easier access. His other hand struggled with the fabric of your dress until it finally gave in and chose to betray you with a deep rip on the side.

“Adrian,” you grated, your breath heavy as you unsuccessfully tried to fight back, “get the fuck off me.” 

“Stand still, bitch,” he hissed, pressing your body even harder. You were losing your breath again, since your chest didn't have enough room. “And shut up.”

Struck by the sudden return of panic spreading at an alarming speed, you became numb when Adrian lifted your dress. His sickeningly cold and wet hands, touching your skin directly, without any additional layers protecting your body, turned your stomach sick. 

Until that moment, you were clinging to the hope that you could get out of it, or that Adrian would come to his senses. But now, it didn't appear that either of those things were going to happen; Adrian was going to get his way, he was going to take something from you, to break you.

Despite the shock of realizing what your fate would be, you swept your hand over the desktop to scan the area. In the process, you knocked down the phone, which Adrian considered to be continued attempts to fight, and eventually found something that, judging by its shape, was a stapler — an useless tool. A moment later, your hand felt something thin and oblong. A pen. Without much thought, you clenched it tightly in your palm and, pushed by adrenaline, blindly slammed your weapon into whatever happened to be behind you. All you knew was that it went in deep.

Adrian let out a loud, inhuman noise. The pressure of his hold loosened enough that you were able to break free. You darted to the door, and when you opened it, you ran into Bucky standing on the other side, clashing with his body. With your heart beating painfully fast, you lifted your gaze to him — your eyes still carried terror and distress, but there was a little room for relief as well.

In Bucky's case, it was different. With his forehead creased and his lips parted in devastation at what he had in front of him, he examined you closely — the ripped dress, the broken shoulder strap, the cut lip. His mouth snapped shut in a hard line, his jaw clenched so tightly that you could easily see that familiar twitch below his cheekbone, his nostrils flared. And although just a moment ago his eyes expressed so much — helplessness, fear, disbelief, disappointment — in a split second they became cold, dead. They passed you, as if you weren’t there anymore, and switched to Adrian.

Adrian looked around in a frantic search for an escape route, but the only exit from the office was blocked by you and Bucky. 

Having placed his hands on your arms, Bucky moved you carefully to the side, then made his way to Adrian. You immediately looked over your shoulder, and the rest of your body followed. 

“Hey, man, let’s talk-”

Bucky rammed into Adrian, and the kick that reached his stomach was charged with force so powerful that the man crashed into the cabinet standing against the wall. There was glass splattered everywhere — it came from the cabinet door, and from broken bottles; a few pieces cut Adrian's skin harmlessly, although it would have been better for him if one had killed him instantly. Bucky didn't wait for his target's reaction; he got on top of him, and, heedless of protests, pleas or pathetic screams, punched him in his face. Again, and again, and again.

“Stop. Please, don’t-” Adrian managed to choke out. He tried to defend himself, but was unable to block Bucky's blows, driven by tremendous power and speed. “I can pay you! I can pay you a-” 

To Bucky, his words meant nothing, his money worth nothing. What really mattered to him — what kept replaying in his head, boiling the blood in his veins, steering him to the only possible ending — was the fact that some man, no matter who he was or how much he had to offer, hurt his wife. He touched her. He touched in a way that made her too terrified to even cry. 

With each repeated punch, a little blood sprinkled out — Lancy spit and choked with it, coughing and screaming, but Bucky still didn't pay the slightest attention to it; he stopped feeling his own hand — the pain spread through his metacarpus at first, but that soon went numb — instead, he felt Adrian's bones break and crumble under his fist; he felt his nose snapping, his jaw cracking, his cheekbones collapsing. He felt only that; no shame, no regret, no remorse. Why should he, when none of these things were shown to you?

Bucky did what he had to do — he beat the life out of Adrian Lancy with his bare hands. But to Bucky, he was no Adrian, no young investor with a bright future. He was a scumbag that attacked his wife and before that, put her on a short leash. 

Breathing hard and slowly, Bucky stood up. For another brief moment he stared at the lifeless body, feeling a little less disgust. Despite the fact that instead of his face, Adrian now had a bloody, still steaming hole, he no longer evoked such disgust in Bucky.

He turned around. Blood covered his hands, especially the right one; crimson specks now decorated his face and his white shirt. You didn't feel the slightest need to run away, and if any shiver ran through your body, it was a shiver of admiration, of delight. 

You didn't know when exactly, but at some point Steve and Sam showed up; Steve stood right next to you, Sam stayed somewhere behind your back. 

Taking his eyes off you, Bucky turned to Sam. “Go get Clint,” he ordered, his voice — just like his stare — lacking a particular tone; it was emotionless, perhaps with a hint of cooling anger, the seed of which got there completely naturally. Then he looked at Steve, his jaw clenched again. “Get her out of here.”

You've lost track of time; you haven't checked it once since you and Bucky separated. Staring stubbornly, and without any purpose, at the darkness outside the bedroom window, you stood frozen, numb, wearing his t-shirt, that wrapped around you like a safe embrace.

Your skin was still aching from the almost burning water and excessive rubbing — you tried to deeply wash off Adrian’s scent and touch, but you could’ve sworn you still felt him. His smell — unpleasantly strong, hitting your nostrils aggressively — lingered in the air, and his hands, cold, sweaty, driven by evil intentions, remained on your body. A repulsive tingling plagued the places where he touched you, making you sick.

The door opened carefully, letting in some warm light from the corridor. You turned away from the window; Bucky entered the room, and then, keeping his eyes on you, came closer with a cautious step. And this time he scrutinized your figure intently.

In contrast to his shirt, there was no trace of blood on his face or hands. He washed it away along with the memory of that man, so it wouldn't clutter his mind. Instead, he knew that he would never forget that he had failed you; that he should have protected you better.

Without any words, you started unbuttoning his shirt; your fingers worked quickly and smoothly — you, too, wanted as soon as possible to get away from everything that reminded you of the events of a few hours earlier. When you were done, and the shirt tails opened, showing Bucky's tensed stomach muscles, you cupped his face and pulled him in for a kiss. By instinct, he placed his hands on your hips and pressed his body against yours, his tongue slid into your mouth, and despite your lip stinging, you eagerly accepted it, meeting it with yours. You already knew the way you could wash Adrian off you.

Bucky bent his knees to lower himself a bit; he moved his hands under your ass to lift you, causing you to wrap your legs around his waist. He walked to the bed and sat down; Bucky, as well, was fully aware of what you needed. 

He laid down, pulling you with him — without breaking away from his lips, relishing the taste of the man who had done something so thrilling for you, to the point of intoxication, you began rubbing against his crotch. Both of you breathed heavily into each other's mouths as your core, now wet and throbbing with desire, grinded on Bucky's bulge. But it wasn't enough — you needed him inside you, immediately.

You backed away just enough to be able to unzip his pants. He raised his hips, lifting you along with them, in order to slip his pants lower. At that moment, neither of you thought about taking the time to remove all your clothes; it was only about gratification, about forgetting, about pleasure.

You rose, wrapped your hand around his engorged cock and guided it to your entrance, then sank down on it slowly, a quiet, breathy moan leaving your lips. At first, Bucky looked at you with concentration, as if making sure you could handle it without his help, and when he got the proof, he relaxed slightly. Feeling your pussy swallow more and more of his cock, he groaned, tilting his head back and closing his eyes, but soon returned his gaze to you. He had to — there was nothing that could draw him away from the pleasure of watching you. 

You grabbed the ends of the t-shirt you were wearing and stripped it off. Seeing your body almost in all its glory, feeling it on his own, Bucky pressed his lips together, the devotion and worship visible in his stare only deepened.

Now, it was you who had the control you so badly needed to regain; you needed to regain yourself, and that's what seemed to be the best way to do it. Bucky's dick was plunging into you with your every move, penetrating you, hitting that sweet spot just right, but it was you who was fucking him. The bliss overpowered you enough that, forgetting the previous damage, you sank your teeth into your bottom lip. Bucky kept looking at you — your face overtaken by delight, your body moving up and down, the way you were riding him flawlessly — and the view alone would have been enough to make him cum.

Lifting his torso off the mattress, Bucky sat up. Your back arched as you propped your hands somewhere behind, your hips rolling in circles. Bucky slid his tongue between your breasts up to your neck, leaving a wet trail on your skin. With his hand supporting the back of your head, his mouth traveled all over your face and jaw, dropping sloppy kisses. 

Sensing some weakness creeping into the dynamic you had set up, Bucky returned on the mattress, taking you with him. And you let him, knowing it would be worth it. 

“Take my hand,” he whispered between heavy gasps. You followed his request without a second thought; the hand that only a few hours before had brought death was now holding yours. His fingers, intertwined with yours, reminded you that he was here for you; fully consciously, voluntarily, not just to satisfy some animal needs.

Bucky's spare arm embraced your back, pressing you as tightly as possible to his body. His hips began to move fast but not violently, he was moaning softly, pumping his cock into your cunt. It was hard for you to concentrate on anything other than that delicious sensation of being filled like that — your brain was melting, making you nothing more than a body to fuck, but the same brain told you to look at Bucky. So you looked at his lips, parted, swollen, in that familiar deep shade of pink they had turned from biting, and finally decided to occupy them with yours, devouring his warm, plush mouth.

The space between you, if such a thing had any right to exist, was filled with Bucky's loud breaths and grunts, your soft whines and his name — the sweet promise that you belonged to him only.

Bucky went still, letting out an interrupted whimper. A single, strong shiver ran through his body, his seed filled you up. When his mind regained a small percentage of sobriety, he continued thrusting into you. You straightened up to the sitting position, but still held tightly to Bucky’s hand. The tension building in your stomach released — orgasm shook your body, sending it into strong spasms, throwing your head back, squeezing only a heavy exhale out of your lungs. 

Bucky looked up at you; he admired your jawline, your arched neck, the blue gemstone of the chain he gave you hanging in the middle of your collarbones, the single drop of sweat running down between your breasts. You were the most beautiful creation he had a chance to experience.

You gazed at him too, tears shimmered in your eyes, one of them dropped unexpectedly on Bucky's chest. 

He furrowed, and, gripped by a burning panic and worry looming over, sat up; one of his hands was instantly on your cheek, the other brushed a few strands of hair away from your face. “It’s okay,” Bucky said softly. Sniffling, you nodded, the tears still streaming down your cheeks. “It’s okay…” he repeated more to himself, his eyes studying your face nervously, helplessly. With his thumb, he quickly wiped off another teardrop that escaped from your eye, then leaned closer and kissed away a new one, the salty taste smeared on his lips.

“Nothing-” you sobbed, then took a deep, shuddering breath. “Nothing like this has ever happened to me,” you choke out. Bucky's jaw clenched, his eyes filled with sadness. Nothing like this has ever happened to you, and now that you were his wife, it did. On his watch. He was convinced that the blame lay with him, but he didn't admit it out loud — he wasn't going to make a victim of himself, all that mattered was you. “I shouldn't have let him-”

“No,” Bucky interrupted you strongly. He looked you in the eye. “It's not your fault, Y/N. You hear me?”

In response, you only sniffled again, dropping your gaze. “You told me something like this could happen. And I didn't listen.”

“Hey,” he said to get your attention, his voice gentle, but you didn't have the courage to bring your eyes back to his. Yet, with his hands on your cheeks, he made you look up at him. “Don’t do that. That fucker had no right to touch you even with his finger. That’s not on you.” 

You weren't sure about that — your mind wasn't in a place that would allow you to believe Bucky's assurances. The wounds were still too fresh, the memories too vivid. However, one thing you were sure of; you had washed Adrian off of you. Bucky's scent clung to your skin, but your body was also marked with his sweat, his spit, his cum.

You started crying all over again — you needed this kind of purification. Bucky got that, so he wrapped his arms around you and pressed to his chest. “You’re safe now,” he whispered, stroking your hair.

a/n: feel free to share your thoughts, they are more than welcomed 🥰

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#mob!bucky #mob!bucky x reader #mob!bucky x y/n #mafia!bucky #mafia!bucky x reader #mafia!bucky x y/n #mob!bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes #mafia!bucky barnes x reader #mafia!bucky barnes #mafia bucky #mafia bucky x reader #mafia bucky x you #mafia bucky barnes #mob bucky #mob bucky au #mob!au #mafia au #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fanfic

[wolven91]

New Style. New You.

Fur was a standard amongst the stars.

Oh sure, some of the races sported beautiful feathers. Others look resplendent in beautiful scales that shone like gemstones. But most of the races had fur. The taurians had mostly short velvet-like cover, except atop their heads. The felinoids ranged from the short to the long fur and the ursidains had fur several inches thick at times.

Thanks to this, everyone had grooming kits. Small bundles that unrolled into a selection of tools for removing knots, brushes for straightening ruffled patches and even small scissors for the removal of that which will not obey its owner. These self-grooming tools were common. Even children would have their own, despite lacking the scissors.

With a body worth of fur, it was expected that one would need to maintain their own pelt.

But, that did not stop the need for those who could take an unmoulded medium of unsculpted head fur and turn it into something that pulled the owner's chin up, push their chest out and whisper into their ear that a strut was needed from them. There were groomers of course, beings would like up and would be brought back into acceptable appearances via a groomer who just wanted to get as many customers sorted as they could.

But then there was Notila.

Notila was a taurian and had dedicated himself to this act of artistry. His medium, was other's fur.  He could take a loveless taurian woman and with his tools, a bit of product and a peptalk, turn her into a taurian who's horns rivalled the very mountains. He had managed celebrities, lords and even royalty. More than once had he had received gifts to his private shop as thanks for his work, it was so life changing. Everyone wanted him to 'do' their fur.

The taurian male, draped in the finest shimmering silks, and glittering gold jewellery, from his own little kingdom, enjoyed the fact that he was the premier stylist in the system. Twenty-two billion souls and they all dreamed for him to cut their fur.

So, when the human settled down into Notila's chair for the fifth time and asked for a 'short, back and sides'. Notila clasped his hands together and touched the sides of his palms to the tip of his snout. With his eyes closed, Notila took in a calm and steading breath. The human watched the gold bangles tinkle together as the taurian remained still for a moment, seemingly gathering his thoughts.

"You live in the same high security building as me and you're human. This is why you can get your hair cut here every few months." The taurian explained carefully to the human. His many earrings sparkling in the light.

"Without throwing myself to narcissism, it would be... disingenuous to not point out that this career of mine has made me the number one in my craft..." The bull continued. The human at this point was merely looking up at the male, blinking innocently. His fine silks were flawless, despite being in his shop most of the day, the taurian's robes were nary a jot out of place. Not a single errant strand of fur or hair lay on his clothes.

"I could make you anything." The hornless taurian promised. "Your hair is sculpt-able. Malleable. I could make every man, woman and child look at you and want to *be* you." Notila opened his eyes and gazed at the customer that sat waiting in the chair that could easily have been a throne elsewhere. The human's lips pulled into a tight smile and nodded gently in understanding as Notila's palms, still pressed together, fell and pointed at the human.

"So why do you torture me so and ask to have everything lopped off every time?!" The taurian demanded with a serious tone, 'almost' glaring at the customer.

"It's what I want?" Replied the human dumbly. Notila's mind crashed to a desktop before rebooting causing him to stutter in his response, his fists clenched immediately.

"Bu- You- It-" The taurian had to physically stop himself from allowing his now outstretched hands from throttling the beligerant alien. "Fine. You want to be shaved? We'll shave you." The taurian snapped, waving a dismissive hand above his head as if throwing the idea of anything else away. Having a small tantrum from being denied, Notila put away his tools and went to get his clippers, almost unused except for when the human arrived.

"You know shaving is seen as sickness or punishment right?" The taurian called back, grabbing the clippers from the drawer and sneering at them before stomping back in a display almost never seen in male taurians. They were meant to be grace, untouched by the world around them. But Notila had been denied his passion in his own shop one too many times.

In his defence, the human was not unaware of the taurian's distress, but knew that he couldn't be bothered to keep up with whatever design the exuberent taurian gave him.

"I didn't... but... Look... If you were to-" Sputtered the human, suddenly acutely aware something was wrong. His words however, sharked hope within the taurian's breast.

"*Yes?!*" Notila replied, practically running back over to his customer, and swinging himself around the back of the chair and landing against the counter the human was sat infront of. This was the furthest he had ever got with the fleshy alien; was he about to agree!?

"I'm not going to be able to keep up with whatever you do. It would look like a great hairstyle, but then tomorrow it would just be back to my usual messy style. I don't want to disappoint you by wearing it wrong." Explained the human carefully, trying to articulate the issue.

Notila took a breath, and hesitated before he answered with a calm and steady tone.

"So it's not that you're allergic to fashion?" He asked.

"No, I'm just lazy." Admitted the human.

"My dear, lazy I can deal with. You ever met my kind's 'other half'?" Grinned the taurian, merely mentioning the ladette ladies of his own species.

"So you wont care if I don't keep it up?" Questioned the man, unsure where this was going. If fiddling with his hair made the hornless flamboyant bull happy; why wouldn't he let him?

"Oh, I absolutely will. It would be like throwing mud at a painting the day after it was finished." Admitted Notila.

"Oh." The wind being stolen from the human's sails. "Then-"

"I will come to yours each morning and personally complete your hair." Interjected the alien with a sharp, toothy grin.

"Wha-" The human started, but lost his voice, mouth opening and closing like a fish on dry land.

"Let me style your hair, let me tame these beautifully long strands into art and I will make the effort to come to you any day you plan to be seen in public. If, by the time of your next haircut, you want to go back?" A casual shrug, foreign to the taurian normally, but he was appealing to the human at this moment; manners be damned.

"Then I shall never mention it again and will live my remaining days happy that I was able to show you your potential at least once."

The pair were sat in silence for a time, the taurian perfectly still, his many dangling bits of jewellery not even 'tinkling' together he was so still. Until he decided to push it just a bit further.

"After all, I can bring a squidgit to the water, but I cannot force it to drink." He finished with a grin, then showed his hands.

In his left; shearers.

In his right; scissors.

The human sighed and gave a flat smile again.

"I am a blank canvas. I trust you."

-- 0 --

When the human turned his head from one side to the other, he had to admit; he would have *never* picked this.

A mohawk, His sides were still shaved, but with intricate patterns and strange shapes gently sculped into his hair line. Not only that, but the dye that Notilas had used was special. As and when heat was applied; it would change colours gradually. The man had been shocked when Notilas had started using a hairdryer to dry off his hair and watched in the mirror how it went from a deep purple, to blue, to yellow, to red. The taurian was of course, grinning from ear to ear the entire time. Even the man's beard had not been safe from Notila's ministrations as swooping curls had been finely shaved into it using the very edge of a scalpel.

As the human stood from the chair, and looked at himself in the mirror, inspecting the hair and hairline, but also leaning in and running the tips of his fingers over the swirls in his beard; he liked how it felt, even if it was rather loud compared to his usual fare.

As the human straightened, his usual slouch; didn't suit the bold and powerful style.

Briefly frowning, the man straightened. His spine clicked as he pulled his shoulders back.

So long had the man spent trying to get by, he'd attempted to hide himself in plain sight. But the powerful symbol he now wore needed, or rather demanded attention.

Turning and checking himself in the full-length mirror, the human felt... seen.

"Huh..." He murmured.

"My dear human... If you had merely said it was a lack of habit, I would have offered this when you had first arrived. You deserve to be seen. I'm not ignorant to you or your people's plight. It is your, and your kind's duty to bellow and bleat against the crowd now. To be seen. Heard. If nothing else remembered."

The human smirked, still getting used to standing tall.

"Maybe you're right..."

"Of course I am. Look at me! I'm the great Notilas!"

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

[jamesdeniscouldnever]

Them pt. 2

Come children, Mama made you your favorite

Summary: it's been a bit over 2 weeks since Tav had saved Rolen from the shadow curse. They'd been gone when he'd woken the next morning, and he'd not questioned it if not been disappointed by it. Now, under the crush of a new form of pain and danger, where are they to save him again? Where is his hero?

Rolan clicked his tongue in distaste and irritation as he looked at the unmatching numbers on the sales records was filing. Either Tolna had fucked up her gold count or he head. Either way, he would pay for it.

When Rolan had the blissful ignorance of Lorroakin's true character, he'd been so excited to begin his apprenticeship, so excited to become something greater than himself, to make Lia and Cal proud!

He knew better now.

Lorroakin was a bastard and a half. A self-obssesed, hubris, horror of a man. It took Rolan only 3 days to know he'd made a mistake. It only took 4 to know it was one he couldn't fix. At first, he'd thought Lorroakin's strange nonsense questions had been a test of some sort, the corporal punishment he'd doled out afterward the same. But as the days dragged on and 3 days turned to a week and then a week turned into two, he had come to understand that this was his life now. It had to be. He couldn't leave, not after he'd bragged and lorded his position over the heads of his siblings. Not after he had come so far to be here. Not after they had all risked their lives - risked Tav's life - to make it.

No. He would put up with it and cultivate his magic as he planned. He would ignore the black eyes and throbbing ribs. Ignore Lia and Cal's questions. He'd been through worse than a few punches and kicks here and there, much worse. He would be just fine.

With that thought, he got back to work at the front desk of his master's shop. Perhaps he could make up for the small mistake by working harder. Or maybe he and Tolna could go over the discrepancy in the days earnings before Lorroakin saw. Or maybe his math had just been wrong and he-

"Rolan!"

The familiar voice brought him out of his own head and back to reality. Walking through the doors of Sorcerers Sundries came Tav, a big smile across their face and looking cleaner and healthier than he'd ever seen them. At least Baulder was treating one of them well. He can't stop the smile that lights his face and the excitement in his voice.

"It's you. What are you doing here?!"

Tav smiles for a moment, their eyes roaming his face before it slowly fades and their eyebrows knit together in concern. Rolan silently curses himself for not ducking behind the desk to hide as soon as they walked in. Tav would have questions, and when they had questions, they wanted answers. And they wouldn't react kindly to the answers this time.

"Rolan, what's happened to you? Your face looks like it's met the blunt end of a goblins club! Is that...?" They reach over the counter before be can argue and brush their hand quickly over his bottom lip. He's so taken aback that for a moment, he doesn't even realize why they've done it. Their eyes set on him, cold as stone, "blood."

Rolan forces a tight smile and shakes his head. "Its nothing! I promise." There's a catch in his throat that he tries to swallow. His shoulders set rigidly. Why does he have such a hard time lying to them anymore?

As if his own body is answering him, he feels a small burning spot upon his forehead. It's all in his mind. He knows that, and he's glad for it. He would truly die of embarrassment if Tav could see the very place they'd placed a kiss upon his head glowing with the memory of it.

Tav narrows their eyes, still unconvinced. They look as if they're about to argue, but instead, they just sigh and drop the topic. Instead, they lean forward, their elbows on the desktop and their face closer to his than he was used to. It wasn't their intention to flustered him, he was certain. But once more, he silently thanked the gods, and perhaps Asmodeus himself, for his red skin.

Now that they're closer, he can see dark circles under their eyes and a tired set to their shoulders. Their eyes flit in a way that suggests they have much going on in their head. Perhaps Baulder hadn't been as kind as he had thought. He gives a small nod to himself and takes this as further validation for why he shouldn't bother them with Lorroakin. They were busy, and he was strong. They ask him a few questions about the nightsong, lorroakin, and the tome-seller before, with another glance at his bruised face, they thank him and head up the stairs to see his master.

He let's out a breath and allows his shoulders to slump a bit as he hears the sound of them solving his master's portal puzzle. They would do as they needed and leave, continue being a hero elsewhere. If they come in from the shop from time to time, he could put on a brave face as he had just now. He could do this.

The sound of the portal being crossed through some length of time later alerts him to their departure. They stomped down the steps, seeming irritated, and made a swift turn for the door. They spare him a glance over their shoulder and give a small smile and wave before stalking out the door. He frowned. It would seem Master Lorroakin was good at making even the kindest souls angry.

Day bleeds into night, the shop closes, Rolan reluctantly reports for his nightly "lecture", if one could call it that, and his subsequent beating. It passes in a blur, the whole affair. Rolan spends the majority of it with his eyes closed and thinking of anything to keep his mind off of the blows. One of Cal's awful jokes. Lia's excited ramblings about her dreams and plans. Tav's smile. Tav.

He finds himself sinking into the feeling of safety they bring him even as he braces for the next slap. Even as he trudges home in darkened streets. Even as the occasional person spits the phrases "foulblood" and "hellspawn" at him as he passes. Even when he tiredly bypasses his siblings and their nightly worried questions about his appearance. All until he falls into a deep sleep, wrapped in the safety of his hero.

As the morning comes, the day begins, and Rolan gets back to work. He's looking at his feet when he hears an approach to his desk again. Without looking up he gives a hollow "How can I help you?"

"Rolan? I need to buy a few things." It them. He hadn't even realized until he heard their voice. Theyre surrounded by a few of their friends. He smiles, already happier for their presence.

"That, at least, I can help you with."

The exchange goes quickly, and Tav asks if he'll come up to Lorroakins office with him. Rolan winces at the thought, but he can not tell them no, not even if he wanted to. So, all of them ascend and step through the portal. When they step into Lorroakins office and are met with the sight of Lorroakin having a rather heated conversation with a large, armored woman, rolan looks to the others in shock. None of them seem very surprised, Tav stepping forward and joining the argument. As he listens he realizes with dawning horror that the nightsong is a person. She was a person the whole time and Lorroakin knew that. Lorroakin raises his hand to Rolan, commanding something of him, but Rolan doesn't listen. He gives a firm "no".

He's still terrified of Lorroakin, no doubt, but he can not stand by idly while his master threatens his friends, his hero. Not while he's attempting to keep an actual person as a slave to gain immortality. No, it's his time to he brave. To do what's right. Hopefully, he can repay Tav's kindness in the process.

Of course, he was expecting a fight, just perhaps not such a...destructive one. The room scorched and wet at the same time from the elementals, blood spatter everywhere, far too much of it his beloved Tav's for his liking.

His own thoughts freeze him. "Beloved" indeed. When had that happened? How had that happened? He shakes his head clear and ignores it for the moment. Tav has finished making the corpse of Lorroakin answer some questions and Rolan is set on repaying their kindness from the shadows.

He makes his way to them, placing a hand on their shoulder. They turn to him and smile, a trail of blood dripping from their nose. He gives a somewhat sad smile and reaches out to wipe it away. They keep each others gaze for a moment before an uncomfortable cough interrupts them both. They look away from one another.

The large armored woman breaks the silence. "My friends! Valiant as we have fought, easily shall so we rest! I must return to my darling's embrace at once, the same as our fearsome friend here longs to. Away! Leave the lovers be."

Rolan may have melted into the floor if it weren't for the amusment he found in how red Tav's face had become. He felt his own ears twitch a bit, hot and uncomfortable, but not as aflame as theirs. He noted that as he had not corrected the woman, neither had they.

The other companions all cough and chuckle, shuffling towards the door and hiding snickers. The pale, white haired on makes some comment about "enjoy your embrace," and Tav smacks him on the arm as he passes. Rolan gives a soft laugh.

"So...if it's agreeable to you, that is, I can bring you to my home? I'm sure Lia would be incredibly offended if I didn't let her know you were around. She adores you, you know. She and Cal both. Cal is a wonderful cook and, frankly, it's time I offered explanations to all of you for why I let this happen." Rolan speaks with more confidence than he's feeling, a soft smile gracing his lips.

"I think that sounds wonderful. I'd love to see them both again as well. This city can survive without me for an evening, I'm sure." They reply, a much brighter and more beautiful smile stretching across their face.

Rolan nods, and despite his shaking hands, offers them his arm. They smile and link their arm with his, and the two set off at a stroll through the portal, through the store, and out the front. If anyone inside knew of the violence that had taken place, they gave no indication.

It feels foreign to Rolan. Walking calming down a city street, knowing he's safe, and that someone beside his siblings is at his side. He finds himself laughing, truly laughing, as they go and chat about nothing. The sound of them joining him is the most beautiful thing he's ever heard, he decides.

The stroll goes quickly and they arrive at the small home of the 3 siblings. He's grateful for it. The only reason they weren't turned away at the gate, the same as so many others, was because of his connection to Lorroakin. They certainly couldn't punish him if it was found that his master had gone "missing" from his shop.

Rolan sighs and shakes his head, dispelling the thoughts. What comes next can wait for tomorrow.

They enter the house, still arm in arm, and the delighted squeal that emits from his firey little sister upon seeing Tav is enough to make him laugh again. She tackles the hero in a hug and Cal follows in due turn. They jabber questions until Rolan gently swats them away. Tav complies with their wishes and let's themselves be dragged to the table.

Lia props herself on the chair across from them, and Cal puts food on the stove. Rolan sits beside Tav and tries his luck, wrapping an arm around their shoulders. Tav relaxes back into it, and he feels a swell of pride. The evening is full of revelry, laughter, joy, and delicious food. Rolan ashamedly admits his complacency with Lorroakin and his injuries and despite Lia's enraged outcry no one fussed at Rolan too much for it. Gentle assurances and comforting hugs are passed around instead.

Sleepy goodnights are made by the younger two and Rolan guides Tav to his own room. The two simply sit on the bed for a moment, Tav taking both his hands in their own. They stroke his knuckles, roughened from his time in Avernus and on the run. He gazes at their conjoined hands for a moment before looking up and meeting their gaze.

He's not sure who initiates it. Kisses, some rough, some soft, some slow, some quick as pecks come one after the other. Tav hisses a bit as he accidently knicks their lip with his sharp teeth, he responds by kissing it again, carefully this time. Arms hold him close, his own running through their hair and over their let. He let's his tail curl up and around their waist. They break away for a moment for air and Tav speaks.

"Wait! Wait, just a moment." They gasp, hands moving to rest against his chest, not pushing him away but putting a bit of space between them. Rolan immediately recoils, pulling his tail away and stuttering apologies.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I-I got carried away I didn't think...I assumed...I shouldn't have..."

Tav smiles and holds his face in their hands. "No, it's okay, you didn't do anything wrong! I just...what is this? To you, I mean? I just...I really like you."

The words send Rolan's heart hammering against his chest. He speaks too quickly, embarrassingly quickly.

"I love you! I," he takes a deep breath, "I just...I. gods dammit, it's the truth. I love you. I'm sorry if it's too soon, but I can't pretend otherwise. I didn't always, mind you. There was a time when I wished nothing but for you to fuck off and leave my family alone. But the way you've protected us, helped us... the way Lia and Cal look up to you. I'm the oldest, for the longest time I've guided those two as best I could... we aren't even actually related, you know? But we're still a family, and I've always been so focused on becoming something great, for them. To protect them. And I hated it when you succeeded where I couldn't. But now? I've gotten used to having someone to protect me. You're my hero, and as every damsel in distress must, I've fallen for you." The words fly from his mouth in a blur, no planning or reserved smarm. Just plain, raw truth. At first, his eyes flit away, nervous for rejection upon such a forceful confession. But a forehead pressing against his own brings his gaze back.

"Perfect. That's the most wonderful thing I've ever heard... I love you too, Rolan. Unlike you, I fell hard and fast. Maybe not quite the first day we met, but definitely by the time I rescued you near Last Light. I love your care for Lia and Cal, your desire to improve, that stupid little smirk you get. I love you."

A flurry of emotion, soft beds, and gasping breaths. Ridged skin and sharp teeth. Sighs and moans and breathless "I love you"s. Rolan isn't sure how long it lasts, only that it's not enough, and it will never be enough. But for now, resting against each other, relaxed and pleased in an indescribable way, he savors the peace. He chuckles as he places sleepy kisses against their neck and then lay back and pull his head to their chest. In this moment, Tav is not the savior, the hero. Not the goblin-slayer or the victorious against Markyul. Right now, falling asleep against him and breathing deeply, it's just Rolan and Tav. Just them.

@illidariiii @potato-dragons @tieflingteatime

#bg3 #baulders gate 3 #bg3 rolan #bg3 tav #bg3 spoilers #rolan #rolan x tav #rolan/tav #rolan x reader

[bel1ewrites]

i have a request for sam :)

could you write one where sam is busy with something at her desk, working or idk but reader wants her attention and bothers her a few times, sam ends up pulling reader into her lap so she can finish her work and still give some attention but reader starts distracting her by feeling her up etc and sam ends up overstimulating reader as punishment? thank you sm!!

a/n: I loved this idea, thank you so much for the submission! Also sorry in advance for my avoidance of the word "panties" ...I hate it.

Risky Rewards (Samantha Carpenter x Reader)

Description: After a long day, Sam decides to put you in your place.

WC: 2.2k

Warnings: smut, overstimulation, forced orgasm, praise kink, oral, fingering, top!Sam, bottom!Reader

“I’M not going to hold your hand through this, Mr. Stewart. Figure it out and don't call me back until you have- oh for the love of God I don’t give a shit where it-”

Nothing good ever happened when you interrupted Sam while she was working. You knew this to be a proven fact. It almost always ended in you walking out of her office, head down and metaphorical tail between your legs. It wasn’t that she didn’t want you in there, in fact she enjoyed your company. Ever the handsy one, you’d take it too far and she’d scold you, turning you around and handing you something to keep you preoccupied as she screamed at grown men. Technically, you fell under the umbrella of insanity; doing the same thing time and time again, expecting different results. 

This time, she sounded even more pissed off through the door than usual. Her tone was tight, stress from the day seeping into her every move. You could picture her in her work clothes, back rigid and brows furrowed. You’d been lonely all day, and all you wanted to do was help her relax, no ulterior motive behind your actions. 

There was a silence that fell over you as she stopped speaking, which you took as an invitation of sorts. Quietly, you pushed open the door and slipped in. 

She hadn’t noticed you, a look of determination shining on her face as she held up the speaker of the landline she insisted on buying in the interest of looking more powerful. It worked, you had to admit. She was something out of a magazine, sitting at her desk and twirling a pen skillfully between her fingers whilst she bossed around people twice her age with a flawless finesse. 

When you began walking towards her, she spotted you and some of the tension drained from her body. The man was still on the phone with her, but she quickly slammed it face down, effectively hanging up on him mid sentence. 

“Hey, baby,” she grinned brightly, pushing back in her chair and gesturing for you behind her desk. The office was tidy, painted black and red and furnished to match. Pictures of the two of you sat just next to her desktop so that she could glance down at them throughout the day. 

You went over to her eagerly, standing with your back to the desk and smiling down at where she sat in a manspread. Her arms rested on those of the chair, highlighting the cuffs of her sleeves and the rings on her fingers. 

“Hi,” you whispered bashfully. She patted her lap, inviting you to sit with her.

“I have a few documents to go over, but it shouldn’t take long,” Sam explained as you situated yourself on her lap and wrapped your arms around her neck, “I promise we can do whatever you want to when I’m done, pretty girl.”

The nickname made you shudder and bury your head in her neck. She must’ve assumed you were just getting comfortable because she said nothing about it, simply pulling back up to the desk and continuing to work as you clung to her like a koala. 

—------

Everything was going fine. You’d dozed off on top of her, content to breathe her in and wait like a good girl. She got through all of her documents in blissful peace and only had five minutes of work left, at most. In all honesty, Sam was impressed that you hadn’t tried anything.  

 The phone rang, jolting you out of your sleep and pushing a disappointed sigh out of your girlfriend. Maybe ten minutes. 

“Carpenter speaking,” she gritted. “This better be good.”

Faintly, you could hear a man on the other side of the line. His voice was unusually high, nerves making it shake slightly. When you noticed Sam start to tense up you started massaging her neck in an attempt to calm her. 

It worked for the most part. Her head rolled back and she groaned at the painful pleasure as your fingers worked at the knots. The sight was heavenly, enough to bring a grown man to his knees. Your eyes devoured her hungrily. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she continued to speak, free hand rubbing your back as you worked. “Listen, man. I’m tired, you’re tired, we’re all collectively tired-” you hit a particularly sensitive area and she groaned again, “-but you don’t see me fucking complaining about it, do you?” a pause. “That’s what I thought.” You hit a tight knot, watching her cover the microphone in her shoulder and turn to look at you, “Right there… mhm, like that. There you go.” Her head was limp on her neck, hand grabbing roughly at your hip and kneading it while the other brought the phone back to her ear.

You were growing desperate, trying your hardest not to shift and align your center with her clothed thigh. She looked so perfect in her work clothes, jaw clenched in either pleasure or anger and eyes running over your body. You wore her favorite top just to fuck with her. It was cut inexplicably low, exposing a little underboob with each shift. The sweatpants you had on were hers and you’d worn them because you knew how much she loved seeing you in her clothes. 

“Jesus fucking Christ. Who hired you? I bet it was Christine. Goddamn Christine... I’m hanging up now,” she rolled her eyes, hanging up on the poor man for a second time and turning her attention to you. 

With both hands free, she gripped your waist and adjusted her legs, situating your clothed cunt right against her thigh. She leaned back in her chair and watched your jaw go slack as you slowly grinded against her. Once she was comfortable with your pace, she crossed her fingers behind her head and watched as you put on a show for her.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you came in here for,” your angry girlfriend spat, listening to you whine and sigh. “You know, the worst part is,” you ducked your head against her shoulder, “I fucked you last night. Multiple times, if I remember correctly. So I’m gonna sit here, and you’re going to make yourself cum on my thigh without me having to move one fucking muscle, okay?”

“Okay. Yeah, okay,” you agreed hastily, picking up your pace. 

The barrier that the fabric created was a blessing and a curse. It was keeping you away from her muscled thigh, but it was also so delightfully rough that each time it rubbed against your clit you couldn’t help but moan a little louder. You needed more, but you knew she wouldn’t give it to you until you came so you rolled your hips as hard as you could and tightened the muscles in your lower belly more and more with each move. 

“Look at you, making a mess on my nice work pants. You must be so messy down there,” Sam breathed into your ear. She watched you ride her like it was the most amazing thing she’d ever set eyes on. 

You worked yourself up, slowly but surely, hips and abs aching from exhaustion. “So close,” Sam heard you mutter breathlessly, speeding up and grabbing onto her shoulders, shifting so more pressure pushed against your clit. It was dirty and messy, all speed and no rhythm but still your head lolled back as you came. It was a quick high, making you tense and shake and gasp loudly. 

Sam didn’t give you any time to process, quickly standing up and holding onto the small of your back as your legs wrapped around her waist out of instinct. You choked on a breath when your sensitive clit bumped against her stomach, each step she took was pure agony. 

She walked you out of her office, moving down the hall, up the stairs, and ending up in your bedroom. Her movements were quick and erratic, throwing you onto the bed and grabbing the waistband of your (her) sweats. They were off of you so fast that you questioned if they were ever even on in the first place, along with the white lace that had taken the brunt of your mess. 

“If you want me to stop, use the safeword because I’m not going to put up with your begging tonight,” she said in an almost animalistic tone as she threw the wet fabric behind her and watched you nod eagerly.

With no further words, she crawled onto the bed and in between your spread thighs, stopping when her chin hovered above your messy cunt and pressing her arms to your thighs to keep them open. “Take it like a good girl,” she demanded, dark eyes looking up at your flushed face and chest, “And take the top off, I wanna see all of you.”

You made to do as she said, grabbing the cropped hem, but your head fell back as she pushed her middle finger into you and curled it up against that spot she knew so well. “I said take it off,” she growled, thrusting the singular finger in and out of your dripping heat.

Somehow you managed to get the shirt off right before she added a second finger and licked a rough stripe along your still sensitive clit. It was too soon for you to cum again, but the way that she fucked you with strength and precision made your walls tighten around her with the threat of your next orgasm. 

“Wait Sam-” you urged her, “Sam slow down,” a short gasp, “I’m gonna cum- oh fuck- again.”

She kept going as if she hadn’t heard, picking up her pace and swirling her tongue through you like a starving animal. As soon as she pulled your clit into your mouth, you came with a deep moan that stemmed from your chest.

Usually, after you came, Sam would slow down her pace to help ease you through the waves of pleasure. Under normal circumstances, she’d take her mouth off of you and whisper sweet nothings as she’d watch you convulse beneath her and stroke your hair. This time was different. This time, she kept up her speed, having to work harder to push through your tightened walls. Her mouth remained pressed against you, dark eyes watching as you realized she wasn’t stopping. 

“Sam, Sam, Sam,” you chanted as you tried to push her away and close your legs. She wasn’t letting up, her insane strength keeping you on the bed as she wrestled your writhing body. “Sam I came I came I came- Sam,” you whined, clit aching and a dull thud running through your body as she continued to pound into you. Wet noises and pathetic sounds filled the room 

Your legs shook violently as she continued to fuck you, pulling another orgasm from your drained body. This time it hurt, your body was pushing itself to the limits. Your vision went black as your eyes rolled back in your head, feeling each push against your spasming cunt; each lick and twitch. 

She lifted her head up momentarily, fingers still pushing into you and pulling out your soul. “One more baby, one more I promise,” she assured you, watching tears stream down your face and straining to keep your legs apart. Sweat was forming at her scalp with the exertion. 

You shook your head violently and sobbed out. “I can’t, I can’t please I can’t,” you begged hoarsely, knowing she wouldn’t stop unless you said your safeword. 

“Yes you can,” she smiled, pressing a kiss to your shaking thigh. “You’re so good, baby. Taking it all. I know you have one more, it’s okay.”

Her lips went back to your abused clit, puffy and red and deliciously swollen. Through the pain, you could vaguely feel the pleasure building within you, letting out sobs and focusing on the way she fucked you like she knew you were hers. You pulsed limply around her fingers, walls tiring from the tension. When you looked down at her, eyes on you and lips on you and hands everywhere all at once, you came one last time.

The only way Sam knew you came was the look on your face as you fell completely limp, eyes closed and skin dewy with sweat. She kissed both of your thighs lovingly before climbing up and placing a kiss to your forehead. She then stripped herself of her work clothes, grabbing a towel to clean you with.

When it was done, she pulled your still twitching body to hers and threw the blankets over the both of you, watching your face as you slept.

#sam carpenter #samantha carpenter x reader #screamxi #scream #smut #melissa barrera #wlw #gxg #lesbian

[sparklecarehospital]

Site revamp devlog 2

second devlog for my second day working, yippie!!!

today i worked on rewriting the navigation button script to fix bugs, it's still not done and needs work but progress is progress! trying to get this working is a tough job but i'm getting there!!!

secondly, for whatever reason, the content warning switches work normally again now that i actually started putting them on comic pages. yesterday's devlog i mentioned briefly that they were acting weird, but i guess it's fine now...? no idea what that was about, but hey, they work again as intended so that's good i think !!! i also did something small for the content warnings that i will keep a secret for now!

i also made some edits to the navigation bar's styling to make it a little cleaner and less clunky. this was a small change, but i think it looks nicer even if it's small.

lastly, i got the first alternate site theme (the wedoncare green theme) in place. making new site themes is going to be easier than ever with the new code, and i'm really excited for you guys to see it live!!! unfortunately, site themes will look different on mobile than they do on desktop because the mobile site itself looks notably different than the desktop site. this was a small sacrifice for the new improved mobile-friendly reading experience. the colors will still change and everything but there won't be a background visible. it'll still look cool though, i promise!

that's all for today :]

#text #site revamp devlog

[lexintothenex]

I can't help but feel guilty about all this nonsense shipping drama - I made a post the other day on my sideblog replying to an anon who came into my inbox mentioning how they were uncomfortable with the rayfrog age gap, to which I agreed. because even if they're both adults, it is a large age gap! it's completely reasonable to be uncomfortable with it.

HOWEVER.

HOWEVER.

PLEASE. read those words again. "they're both adults". they ARE, in fact, both adults. people can be uncomfortable with a pairing without necessarily trying to claim that it's Problematique.

some people will be uncomfortable with the ship. and that is okay! it is not a personal attack, I promise. if someone IS trying to attack you for liking it for no other reason than the fact that you like it, then that is obviously not okay. no one should be attacking anyone in this situation. let's just all hold hands and be friends okay.

not a fan of rayfrog? cool! me neither. that's why it's such a delightful thing that tag filtering and content filtering exists. block the tags! block people if you need to! curate your own experience. it is OKAY.

love rayfrog? also cool! see someone complaining about the ship in the tags and think it's annoying? block 'em! it's YOUR online experience!

both parties, just stop going at each other's throats, PLEASE! this is supposed to be a community! we're all buddies here! some of us don't see eye to eye, AND THAT. IS OKAY. BLOCK! BLOCK, BLOCK, BLOCK. I cannot stress this enough. THE BLOCK BUTTON IS YOUR FRIEND.

people have different boundaries. what you think is fine and dandy might be someone else's discomfort. that's just how things are! just look the other way and move on with your day.

bonus points: if you use tumblr on desktop, install xkit! it's got an extension that completely removes posts with filtered tags/keywords. no more "this post contains filtered tags". it's gone! out of the world.

#final post on the matter I promise but I just felt like I had to say something #rayman #captain laserhawk #mine #please don't send me any messages/asks about this! they will be ignored and/or deleted #I'm getting too old for all this pointless drama

[itsclydebitches]

A new stupid Ted Lasso drabble? Oh worm? 👀

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

It was too early for this shit.

Roy turned to find Ted staring intently at his computer screen, with Twitter—no fucking wonder he was losing his mind at 7:00am— encroaching on the Richmond desktop. Across from him Beard licked his thumb and deftly flipped a page of The Secret Garden. Had they planned this?

“Yes,” Beard said, not bothering to look up. Ted let out an explosive breath and smiled, like Beard’s promise of worm devotion meant fuck all when they had actual shit to do. Keeley was still waiting on a statement. Rebecca had a small library for them to sign. Higgins— Roy shuddered—wanted to talk finances in half an hour.

Which meant that instead of prepping for any of that in any way, Ted’s gaze crept towards him.

“Fuck no,” Roy barked.

Ted pouted. No, no, if Phoebe couldn’t sway him with doe-eyes at the tender age of six then Ted Bloody Lasso wasn’t going to do it around a fucking mustache. Roy set his teeth against the sliver of an apology trying to force its way out. “You’re a worm,” he said, as if that explained it all. Because dammit, it did.

“What kind of worm?”

Head jerking, Roy schooled his look of betrayal at Trent taking this seriously. He had his glasses off and everything, tap-tap-taping against his mouth as he stared contemplatively up at the ceiling.

“Uhhh...” Ted consulted the digital hellfire, but apparently no answers were offered up. Figures. “I don’t know. Just a worm? Are there a lot of ‘em?”

“Oh yes. Well over twenty-thousand last I checked.”

Roy twitted involuntarily. Twenty-fucking-thousand? And how the hell did Trent know that? Was he the goddamn worm whisperer? Made sense, given what a spineless pest he was.

Not anymore a voice whispered, sounding suspiciously like Ted. Yeah. Fine. He’d changed or what-fucking-ever. Roy growled and resigned himself to a worm lecture as penance.

“Worms are as varied as any species,” Trent was saying, curdling Roy’s stomach with every word. He took his pen out, mindlessly twirling it as he gathered his thoughts. “Silkworms, tapeworms, the humble earthworm. They seem quite simple on the surface and yet they’re a vital part of our ecosystem. Forget the bees; remove the worm and you risk a near total collapse of our agriculture. Ah, and did you know that the leech is a worm? Certainly they’ve been invaluable to the medical community as a natural anticoagulant. Science will always advance, but sometimes all you need is a good old-fashioned blood sucker—”

“Stop,” Roy groaned, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt. Trent glanced over, one eyebrow raised.

“The point—sorry, my editor is always on my case for ‘overly verbose prose.’ As if she’s one to talk with those emails—the point is that if you were a worm, Ted, you would remain just as valuable a member of society as you are now. Of course we'd still love you. And why shouldn't you remain a part of our lives? I would determine your species and then set about finding a suitable environment for you. One that, hopefully, we would all be able to visit with frequency. However, if you’re a tube-worm I’m afraid you’re, well, shit out of luck, if I’m allowed to be crass. None of us are going anywhere near a hydrothermal vent and that’s even if I knew how to swim. Most land-living species would be doable though.” Trent bit his lower lip, considering. “If you were a worm I’d research everything I could about your nutrition, enrichment, life cycle. Given the magical nature of these events—I assume in this hypothetical you weren’t always a worm, yes?—I would take steps to ensure you were well looked after, should your life extend past mine. Luckily, Amelia already had a fondness for all things creepy and crawly, so I’m sure she’d be thrilled to receive you in the will. In the same vein, I’d use whatever contacts I still possess to connect with the leading researchers in Nematology and Helminthology, see if we couldn't find some way to communicate with you. I have no qualms about you being a worm, Ted, but I would miss our chats.” Trent smiled, a little wistfully, and then shook himself like a man coming out of a dream. “Why do you ask?”

“Jesus Fucking Christ,” Roy said, thunking his head down on the keyboard. Whatever these two nerds had going on he needed to bottle it and sell the shit. He'd make a fortune.

Ted let out a strangled noise. “No reason,” he said, clearing his throat. “That’s a mighty kind offer of yours, Trent, and I do appreciate it. Yes, ma'am, I do. I suppose you could say I—”

“Don’t,” Roy growled.

“—wormed my way into your heart?”

And he was done. Nearly tripping himself in his haste to leave the office, Roy unfortunately still saw the high-five Beard gave Ted—complete with a “Booya!”—and the heart eyes Trent was sending his way, fierce as fucking laser beams. Honestly, they were disgusting, the lot of them.

Still, that question was going to haunt him now...

“Wonder if Keeley and Jamie would love me if I was a worm,” Roy muttered, ignoring the look Higgins cast him and the question of where he was off to with their meeting on the horizon. Fuck finances. Worms didn't care about finances.

Roy took a right towards the exit, towards KJPR, and hopefully an answer half as romantic as the dork's.

#Ted Lasso #Trent Crimm #Tedependent #Ted Lasso fic #Roy/Keeley/Jamie #apparently I enjoy writing Roy suffering from Tedependent nonsense lol #also is there a ship name for that disaster trio? #they deserve one

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Didn’t find an ask that matched this idea

“Listen…” the villain purred and one of their hands landed on the supervillain’s right shoulder. Though comfortable at first, the villain’s fingers clawed harder into their enemy by the second, like an eagle would grab a rabbit.

Admittedly, the supervillain was losing it, sweating and flinching whenever the villain came too close. In the business, it was rather…apparent that the villain would do questionable things to get what they want.

“It’s simple,” the villain said. “We’re both civil people, aren’t we?”

And the worst thing was their persistency.

The supervillain didn’t even dare to nod and the villain finally let go of them, though with a dismissive gaze, sitting down at the supervillain’s desk. Their eyes scanned the boring room lazily. Boring books, boring computer, boring person.

“If you tell me where my hero is, I’ll only break five of your fingers before I kill you. What do you think?” the villain asked casually, eyes still searching throughout the room.

They’d done a disproportionate amount of detective work already and came to an understanding of why the hero loved their job so much that they’d die for it. Puzzle solving was fun but the villain also knew that violence was a helping factor in getting what they want.

And they wanted their hero back.

“Seriously, I’ve told you, I’ve told you a million times— I don’t have them…” The villain had tied them to the chair and the sheer panic of their uncertain future made the supervillain fidget like a scared animal.

“Hm.” The villain leaned back in the chair, watching the blood drop down the supervillain’s forehead. An injury they had accidentally caused a few minutes ago. “One of your henchmen kidnapped them, though.”

“I didn’t give an order or anything, I swear.”

“You told me something about opportunism, once. It’s been a while,” the villain said. Their eyes found the window and they stared at the small garden, the locust tree and the small pond. Their hero loved nature. “…but if I recall correctly, you told me to paint myself however the situation demanded. You appear to be incredibly incompetent right now. I wonder if that’s just a façade?”

“I am not lying.”

“Well, even if you are, you’ll be singing by the time I get to your third finger.” The villain looked back at them. “Singing all your secrets to me.”

“I could find out if one of my guys took them. Just give me some time. I can check security cameras, I could ask around…just give me some time.”

The villain sighed and their gaze wandered to the desktop.

It was never really over, was it? No matter what they did, no matter how hard they tried, their hero would never be safe. They would run into a burning building to save a puppy. Over and over and over again.

The villain smiled softly. That just meant they had to run after them. Over and over and over again.

“You’re not big on responsibility, are you?” the villain asked. “Blaming your own people? Why should they be interested in the hero? You’re the one who likes these games. I thought you would’ve learnt by now that I don’t like to be toyed with.”

“That’s not—”

“Fine.” The villain grabbed their enemy’s hand and pulled until half of the supervillain’s body was sliding over the table. They yelped, pain digging into their hand. “Which one do you need…”

The villain stared at the hand, thinking carefully. Eventually, they decided to go with the thumb and just as fast as their decision, was the gut-wrenching crack. The supervillain screamed and the villain stared down at them, tutting.

“I’m not a kid anymore,” they said. “You don’t scare me and you certainly do not control me anymore.”

They walked around the table, watching as the whimpering supervillain cried and looked at their thumb. It was quite an unhealthy angle.

“Let’s do this again,” the villain said and took the miserable looking hand into their own again. “Until you tell me the truth.”

They smiled.

“And in whatever condition I find my hero, I promise you’ll look ten times worse.”

The supervillain endured six broken fingers until they confessed.

#writing snippet #heroxvillain prompt #heroxvillain snippet #heroes and villains #hero #villain #hero x villain #heroxvillain #an answer for an ask #request #supervillain

[luveline]

coworker!james is fueling me rn thank u miss jade!! can i pretty please request a coworker!james drabble in which someone at work, a higher-up of some kind or someone visiting from another company being kind of cruel to reader, and jamie discovers that maybe there are several people who have just not been very kind to her, and she doesn’t really understand why he’s upset for her? please and thank u

—Why is James so upset? And how do you calm him down so quickly? fem, 1.2k

The horrible heat of the first week of British summer time finally breaks. It was an eventuality. Nothing good ever lasts for James —he must’ve been enjoying it too much. The sun is gone, the clouds are grey, and the office radiators pump a meek heat into the room.

The dreary skies outside depress him. “I miss the sun,” he sighs, putting the tips of his fingers together and bringing down his hands, base of his palms apart to stretch the sore inside of his wrists. They pang. 

“Sunny again next week,” Remus says reassuringly. “Just in time for your review!” 

“Please don’t remind me.” 

“I must remind you, Jamie.” Remus stands up, and he gives James a loving squeeze on the shoulder, voice close to his ear, “Because you need to pretend you like your job, at least for the next few days. Come and get some coffee with me.” 

James waves his hand. “In a second.” 

When James met Remus, Remus couldn’t take touch. Didn’t like it or want it, couldn’t accept so much as a compliment, but things change, and years of knowing one another makes squeezing and pinching easy work. Remus flicks him without cruelty and exits the nook, leaving James on his own. 

He glares at your empty seat, confused. When did you leave? 

Doesn’t matter. Coffee. James is in desperate need of coffee as Remus recommended to warm up. He exits out of his desktop and shucks his suit jacket back on, taking a hand to run through his knotted hair as he walks. Past the desk banks of the account managers and the reception bank to the hallway that runs into the break room and adjourning kitchen. The office is a weird maze but the worst part is having the big ‘conference’ room right next to the break room, so the people inside working can judge you for eating, and vice versa. 

The conference room door is propped open. 

James recognises you from behind, your hair and tight shoulders. He should recognise the stress, having caused so much of it. 

“It’s just not good enough.” 

“I know.”

“You coast by, doing half the work of your fellow accountants.” 

“I… I was sick for a week, I know it affected my turnover. But nothing went unfinished, sir.” 

“No, because your colleagues picked up your slack.” 

“Sir, I– I promise I work hard.” 

Your voice is so oddly unlike yourself, a tone James is unfamiliar with. He’s arrogant and agitating and has no business interrupting, but he knocks the conference door anyways. 

“Hi, Mr. Vida. How’s it going?” James asks.

“James, it’s fine. We’re just going through L/N’s review.” 

James pulls one of those boyish smirks that men often share when they should be grimacing instead. “I’m sorry to interrupt.” He hangs on like he has something else to say. 

“I think we’re about finished.” 

Mr. Vida is a predictable man. He ushers the woman away to make room for the man. His misogyny is unsubtle and unfortunate, your expression laced with hurt as you gather yourself and stand to leave. 

“Not looking forward to mine,” James says easily. You round the door, and he sends Mr. Vida a suck-up smile before he goes. He should stand up for you in a way that matters, but he’d felt it imperative to remove you from the situation, rather than escalate. 

He’s on your tail, coffee forgotten as you scurry back to the desks. “Hey,” he says, finding himself in a half-jog to keep up, “wait, wait, are you okay?” 

You slow. “I’m fine,” you say, so mildly perplexed that he doesn’t think for a moment you’re playing it cool. 

“He was getting a little heavy with you.” 

You frown in agreement, but otherwise move on, rolling your chair back with your foot to open your desk drawer. “I guess so. He’s like that.” 

“Is he? I’ve never had him that mad at me.” 

“He’s not that bad.” You pull a blister pack of painkillers from your drawer and pop three out in a row. “Have you met his boss? Oh, have you ever spoken to the manager of the account managers from the Brussels office? She sucks.” 

James doesn’t have the wherewithal to pretend he wasn’t following you. He stands with his hands vice-like on the back of his chair. “What did they say to you?” 

“Who, Mr. Vida’s boss? Or the Brussels manager?” 

“Both.” 

You sit and fish a bottle of water from your bag. “I actually filed a successful grievance again Mr. Vida’s boss, he kept calling me sweetheart. I know,” —you wince— “that’s a bit much, but it was really obvious he was looking down at me, so.” 

“And the Brussels manager?” 

“She emailed me thinking I was much more involved with the lab than I actually am. She kept calling me stupid.” You take one of your tablets and wash it down with a swig of water. “But,” you add, smiling at him, “I did manage to solve her problem.” 

“What do you mean, she called you stupid?” 

Your smile slips. “She called me a bunch of stuff. Professionally, you know, but she kept asking why my foresight was so sorely lacking. You know what they’re like.” 

He shakes his head. “I don’t, no. Nobody’s ever called me stupid. Or sweetheart.” 

You smile genially. “Perks of being a girl. Or stupid.” You laugh at yourself softly.

“You’re not stupid.” 

You sober at his solemn tone. “I know,” you say. “I’m just joking.” 

“Nobody should be talking to you like that.” 

“I know, James, but what am I supposed to do?” 

He doesn’t know. What can you do? Nothing. What can James do? What should he do? 

“I’m sorry,” he says softly. 

Your frown deepens. “It’s not your fault. It’s really fine.” 

“It’s not fine. It’s not, though, it’s–”

“James?” you say. 

“What?” 

You stand up. You stand close to him, looking into his face. “Don’t be upset,” you say, mirroring his softer tone, “it’s okay. It’s nothing I can’t handle.” 

“You shouldn’t have to deal with it at all.” 

“Well, luckily this time I had you to come and rescue me,” you say. “But it really is fine. I can look after myself, even if I shouldn’t have to. Okay?” 

Your hand finds his arm. You squeeze his wrist and his entire torso lights up, everything, his chest, the backs of his shoulders, like goosebumps but warmer and with a softer fuzz to it. Your eyes meet his, an encouraging smile playing on a pretty mouth. For the first time that day, he feels pleasantly warm, like he’s had that first hot sip of coffee. 

The pads of your fingers are so, so soft where you catch his bare skin. 

“Okay,” he says instinctively. He’d say the sky was red if you asked him to, in that moment. 

You rub the back of his thumb with yours before letting him go. You sit down and finish your drink, and it takes James a good two minutes at his own desk to remember he’s not the one who needed comforting. 

He opens his emails to write a formal complaint against Mr. Vida for poor work conduct. He doesn’t think twice about hitting send. 

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter fic #james potter fluff #james potter blurb #james potter drabble #james potter imagine #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #james potter scenario #james potter oneshot #the marauders #marauders era #marauders

[cardierreh15]

Love You Up Close

***I do not give anyone permission to copy or repost my work!!!

Warnings 18+: Cursing , Little bit of Angst & Small Mention of Death — other than that — Fluff , Fluff , So much sweetness it’ll make your teeth rot!

Pairing: August Walker x Bianca (Black!OC)

Description: August is tired of Loving his woman from afar.

Song: Car Outside by James Arthur , To Build A Home by The Cinematic Orchestra

Word Count: 2.3K

Side Note: This Head Cannon was inspired by my husband & I. We celebrated our 6 year anniversary on the 15th and I wanted to write something beautiful. ✨🩵🥹

Tags: @headcannonxgalore @milknhonies @augustsprincess

I love you too. I will call you when this is over I promise.

She stared at the final text message he’d sent her. Her throat felt as if a lump was making the attempt to suffocate her all while she felt this great weight on her shoulders.

Bianca knew what her boyfriend August did for a living. She knew it was a dangerous job and his chances of making it out alive somehow grew slimmer with each mission. She couldn’t help but think that this time was it. Someone finally bested him.

She didn’t want to think like that but it had been 3 weeks since they spoke last. The poor girl would answer any unfamiliar number hoping it was him just calling from landline or a pay phone.

Nothing.

Her alarm had spooked her out of her thoughts, causing her to blink back to her current reality. She was sitting at her desk in front of her computer. Bianca worked from home and though she found it very convenient, it sucked when the man she loved wasn’t here with her. It just gave her too much time and too much room to dwell.

She looked at the time, it was 3:10PM. At least she was closer to the end than the beginning… but the time… the time aches her in the most wretched way possible. The closer it was for her to get off, the closer it was for the day ending… another day without him.

As the minute changed, she felt that choking feeling in her throat once again. Her mind felt even heavier and her eyes became a gateway of tears. The more Bianca sobbed, the more heavy her shoulders became. Her chest began to tighten and her breathing became shallow and uneven.

‘August… please.’ She mewed out in pain as she gripped her shirt. ‘I miss you so much… please come back to me.’

***

Bianca started off the next morning on a rather lighter note. She went for a jog and watched the sunrise. Then, she came back in and made herself breakfast and took a shower. She washed and conditioned her hair before brushing it up into a ponytail. Afterwards, she did her skin care and got dressed in something comfortable.

All of these things made her feel better… or so she thought. It just busied her for a little bit because now that she was sitting back in front of her desktop… she was thinking about him again. So she instantly grabbed her phone and searched her photos; finding the many silly and sweet photos they’d shared together.

It stung a little, but the beauty of those pictures outshined the pain she was feeling on the inside. They made her smile.

After a while, she was able to work just fine. Nothing could stop her now!

Peaking out her window, she noticed this big moving truck driving by. She ain’t pay it no mind at first. People move in and out of these townhome apartments all the time. But she did find it a little odd when the driver parked in front of her driveway.

‘What the hell? Oh uh-uh!’

She scrambled up out of her office chair and made her way downstairs in a hurry. She unlocked her front door so fast and damn near pulled it off of the hinges!

‘Hey!’ She rushed down the 3 steps and walked down her driveway, ‘Hey! Can you move your shit from in front of my front door?!’

The driver didn’t say anything, instead the sound of the door in the back of the truck could be heard rolling up.

Their silence built up rage inside of her. ‘Alright! How about I call the police and have you arrested for trespassing?!’ Bianca pulled out her phone and brought up her dial pad. She’d already pressed in the numbers, she’d just had yet to hit the green button.

‘Well why would you wanna call the cops on me?’

That voice. The voice she loved and adored. The voice she would follow in complete darkness.

He crept around the corner and folded his arms across his chest before leaning against the moving truck.

‘Aug-August.’ Her voice was already masked in tears, instantly coming to the conclusion that her mind was simply betraying her. Was she seeing things?

‘BB.’ A small and warm smile curled upward on his lip, causing that dimple to carve into his 5 o’clock shadow.

She’d pressed her hands against her chest, the instinct of catching it just in case it broke. Her eyes erupted in tears. ‘Baby.’ She croaked out.

August pushed his weight off of the truck and rushed over to wrap her up into his arms. ‘Shhh… I’m here baby.’ He rested his chin on top of her head as he gently rubbed her back. ‘I’ve missed you too.’

Bianca wrapped her arms around his neck securely when their bodies collided. She pressed her face flat into his chest, inhaling his soft refreshing scent that clouded all of her senses.

Her man was really here. Finally.

She had pulled her face away to look up at him. The early morning sun had caused this glorious twinkle to shine in his cobalt blue eyes.

He caressed his thumb over her wet cheeks, ‘I’m sorry I haven’t been able to get back to you. I figured you’d prefer to see me anyway.’

Bianca sniffed, ‘You could’ve at least told me you were okay Auggy! I was worried sick about you.’

‘I know… but that’s all going to end. Right now. You won’t have to worry about me ever again pretty soon.’

Her brows tugged into one as she sniffed, ‘What are you talking about?’ Then she glanced at the moving truck, ‘What is this about August?’

August looked back at the truck once and then looked down at her once again.

‘Bianca, I’m tired. I’m tired of spending weeks without speaking to you. I’m tired of going months without waking up next to you. I’m tired of us trying to see one another… we don’t have to live like that. Like this. I want to be able to come home every night and kiss you and tell you about my day. I want to be able to touch you when I want. I’m sick of being without you, BB.’

‘Wh-‘ The heaviness that sat on Bianca’s shoulders had somewhat subsided. But that tightening still had her chest strung up. ‘What are you saying?!’

August let out a gentle sigh, ‘Bianca, I want you to come back with me… I want you to come home.’

Bianca blinked once at his words. ‘You want— you want me to do what?!’

‘I want you to move back to Washington with me. Look, I know it’s sudden… I know it may seem crazy but I want this…don’t you?!’

She did. But she also had a life here in Georgia too.

‘August, I just can't get up and drop everything like that. What about my lease?! My family?’

‘Bi, I will break the lease, you know that’s not a problem for me… And I talked to your parents… they—‘ he paused, feeling a great deal of nervousness sit upon his own shoulders now. ‘They gave me their blessing…’

Her brows tugged into one. Never had a man have to ask a woman’s parents for their blessing to move in with their daughter.

‘Oh lord, August. You just gave them all the opportunity to be up in our business!’ She placed her hand on her forehead.

‘That’s not what I mean…’ he paused as he took her left hand into his.

Bianca’s face was ridden with confusion until he grabbed her hand in the softest touch. A touch no man had ever given her. ‘August— what are you doing?’ Her heart began to beat so fast.

‘Doing what I should’ve done a long time ago. Please.’

August reached in his pocket, pulling out a small black box before slowly descending on his knee.

Bianca breathed in sharply before she whipped her head around, searching for a camera crew to come out and tell her she was being punk’d or something. But nobody… only a few people standing around in front of their houses watching the beautiful and intimate moment unfold before their very eyes.

‘I’ve been wanting to do this ever since I laid eyes on you. It was easy… My career, it was easy to just leave and not have to worry about someone or not answer to someone. I could’ve died and not a single soul would’ve cared. But when we got together, all of that changed. Every time I had to leave you… I died more and more inside. I don’t want to live like that anymore. I don’t wanna live without you. You’re my sunshine, Bi-Bi. My lifeline.’ He’d opened the small black box, revealing a beautiful diamond ring.

‘Oh—‘ she became a sobbing mess, covering her mouth as she tried to muffle the sounds.

‘Please… Marry Me and I promise you’d never have to be another day without me.’ His eyes glossed over with tears, fear written each crevice and pattern.

Bianca wiped her drippy nose with the wrist of her sweater and sniffed. She paused for a second before a laugh escaped her lips.

‘Yes. Yes! I will marry you!’

The air that August held on so tightly in his chest had finally been set free in relief. ‘Oh thank God!’ He chuckled as he pulled the ring out of the box and slipped it on her finger.

Standing to his feet, he wrapped his arms around her waist as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He spun her around joyfully as they erupted with laughter. They could hear cheering and whistling from nearby neighbors.

Placing her back on her feet, he grinned, ‘Does this mean you’ll be moving to DC with me after all?’ His head fell to the side.

Bianca giggled as she placed her hands on his chest, ‘I guess so.’

‘Good.’ August said softly as he leaned down to meet her in a blissful kiss. A kiss that they’d both longed for what had seemed like centuries. But none of that mattered anymore. They no longer needed to worry about the past, what their future had in store for them.

***

8 years later…

August now worked for the FBI simply pushing paperwork. Since being married and having a family, he realized how much he enjoyed living. So he gave up the life of danger and what ifs. And opted for something more mundane and simple.

Bianca picked a career she loved ever since she was a little girl. She taught History/Social Studies for 2nd grade at the local elementary school.

They also shared 2 beautiful daughters. Sarah who was 6 years old and Lucía who’d just turned 3 in the recent month.

This was the life they deserved.

Bianca had just finished up with dinner. It was now time to announce to her family that it was time to pack up the pool for the day.

August was body slamming the girls in the pool, making dramatic crashing sounds with his mouth as they squealed for dear life! Though it looked a little rough to Bianca, the girls were laughing so they were having more than a good time.

But moms always had to ruin the fun.

‘August!’

He stopped, holding little Lucía upside down by her ankle and Sarah on his back. ‘What?’

‘You don’t think you’re playing a little rough with the girls?’ She asked with a sly smirk curled up on her lips.

He paused and looked at Lucía who was giggling and flaying her tiny arms around. Then he looked over his shoulder at Sarah who was still trying her damndest to climb on top of his shoulder.

‘You mean they’re playing rough with me.’ He snickered as he flipped Lucía the right way up.

‘Of course you’d say that. Come on inside, dinner is ready.’

‘Awww mooom!’ Sarah whined out and swam over to the edge of the pool. ‘Just a little bit longer?’

‘Peeeasss mommy?!’ Lucía begged, pouting out her bottom lip and batting those thick lashes.

They were so beautiful. Both sporting brown untamed curls. Sarah had her father’s blue eyes with that blotch of hazel in it while Lucía had brown eyes and was every spitting image of her mother. They both made up both of their parents very nicely. They were absolutely perfect.

‘I’m afraid not girls. Look, we can come back out tomorrow when daddy get off of work alright?’

‘Awww man.’ Lucía groaned as they swam to the steps and stepped out of the pool.

‘Hey it’s whatever mama says, girls. Pool water ain’t gonna disappear and it will be hot enough to bring y'all back out for another swim tomorrow.’ He added on as he followed the girls out the pool.

Mom and Dad got them wrapped up in towels and began to dry them off so they didn’t track the water into the house.

‘Go upstairs and get ready for a bath, girls.’

‘Yes sir!’ They said in sync and left their parents poolside.

Bianca smiled up at him as she snatched his beach towel off the table and began to dry out his hair. Then she handed it off to him. And there she was, staring at him as if it were the very first time she’s ever seen him.

August did his best to dry himself off but eventually just wrapped his towel around his waist. He looked up to see her staring at him and a bright pink hue burned his cheeks.

‘What?’

‘Nothing just… we really did get our happily ever after huh?’

August smiled warmly, grabbing her hand and placing a kiss against her knuckles.

‘Y’know… I think we did.’

#henry cavill #august walker #august Walker x black!oc #August Walker x black!female oc #August Walker x black!plus size female #August Walker x black!plus size female oc #Henry Cavill x black!female oc #Henry Cavill x black!oc #henry Cavill x black!female

[milogreer]

really wanna write rn so help me choooose

no promises it’ll get done ‘cause, you know… life… but i wanna be able to at least try to focus in on one. i miss writing 😔

also some little snippets of each one that might help y’all decide ����

shaw pack scaredy cats

“You wanna what?”

“It’s not that big a deal, I do it all the time.”

Milo looks at them like they’ve gone crazy. “Tank, if my Ma finds out I snuck into an R-rated movie, I’ll be six feet under before you can even blink.”

“You just don’t wanna watch the movie ‘cause you know you’ll chicken out first.”

“And you just don’t know the kinda hell Marie Greer can rain down on you. She’s scarier than any movie.”

Tank rolls their eyes. “Then it’s your turn to ask David for a movie. I did it last time and he spent ten minutes chewing me out about how his copy of Alien had dried pizza sauce on the back cover.”

“Maybe if you didn’t eat like you were raised in a barn-”

“Don’t be mad at me just ‘cause you chickened out when you thought the cat was gonna die-”

“Hey, that is a very reasonable response!”

Tank laughs, dispelling any further argument. “Okay, okay. Fine. I’ll talk to David, see if he can pull a movie for this weekend.”

the morning after

Blake stirs, mumbling something incoherent as he buries himself further into the duvet, and Bestie stills their hand from looping a lock of his hair around their index finger. When he doesn’t say anything further, they continue, touch feather-light.

Another quiet moment passes before Blake sniffles, nudges his head up into their hand, and manages a slurred, “S’wrong?”

“Nothing,” they whisper, switching to run their hand through his hair, curls soft beneath their fingers, willing him to fall back asleep. “Sorry for waking you up.”

He grunts dismissively, peeking open one eye. “What time is it?”

They pause. It’s just barely four in the morning - they’d only slept two hours before being unwillingly and inexplicably dragged out of the depths of sleep. He’ll worry if they tell him the time.

“Early.”

As expected, Blake’s brows furrow. “How early?”

“It’s fine,” they say reassuringly. “I haven’t been up long. I was just thinking.”

A pause. The air feels heavy all of a sudden. When Blake speaks, his voice is low.

“…Can I ask what about?”

working overtime

“And I was supposed to be free tonight, I was right on track to get all my stuff done, but- but then a professor from down the hall had a family emergency and so she wasn’t going to be able to finish the banner for the rally at the end of the week, so she asked me to do it and I, I, I mean, I couldn’t say no, you know?” Lasko pauses very briefly to suck in a breath. “I would’ve felt so bad because she put in a lot of work and to, to not have her project done and displayed is a shame, I mean, I know she was really excited for it, so if I can finish it for her, then I want to, I just,” he expels an exasperated breath, “I wish it wasn’t at the expense of our date night. I-It’s been a while since we were able to actually go out together, I’m so sorry I can’t make it, I know I said it already, but-”

Dear catches his hand as he paces by where they’re sitting on his desktop, nervous hands flitting through the air as he speaks, then brings it to their lips to place a gentle kiss on his knuckles. Taken off-guard, Lasko goes quiet and still, his rambling tapering off with a soft oh.

“It’s alright, Lasko. I’m not upset.”

Big pleading eyes blink at them from behind his glasses. “Really?”

“Really. It’s sweet of you to want to finish her project for her.” They tug him closer to stand between their legs, looping their arms loosely around his neck and taking great satisfaction in the flush that immediately consumes his cheeks. “Did she leave instructions for you?”

His voice is pitched a touch higher when he responds, “Mhm.” Then he clears his throat, the initial embarrassment ebbing, and says, “She’s very, um… detailed. I hope it doesn’t take too long, but.” He makes an uncertain sound.

sweetheart’s first pack party

They gratefully accept the wine glass he offers, clutching it like a lifeline.

The hand on their hip tugs them a bit closer to him. “Don’t look so nervous, sweetheart. Might be a room full a’ wolves, but no one’s gonna bite.” He leans away slightly, taking a purposefully long moment to check them out, gaze dragging slowly down and then back up their body. Their heart flutters at the sly grin that paints his face. “Well, one of them might. But he’ll ask first.”

Sweetheart exhales a wavering laugh, rolling their eyes and turning their flushing face away.

“Is it that obvious?”

His smirk turns into a slight grimace. “Ash says you’ve got your investigator face on and it’s freakin’ him out a little.”

This time their exhale is a sigh, an attempt to expel some of the anxious energy trapped in their chest that buzzes like a beehive. “I’m sorry. I’m not used to parties like this. My family never did Solstice parties and even if they did, I think this would still be nerve-wracking because…” They falter, nails tapping their glass. “I mean. You know. This is my first one and, I don’t know, David and Asher have always been nice to me-”

sweetheart’s will likely be the only one that gets an actual name bc i have an OC for them more than anyone else, though i’m working on bestie atm so they might get a name too :)

#sweetheart.txt #redacted audio #redacted asmr #redactedverse #polls

[blacktofade]

Gemtho Fortnight Day 4

Prompt: rpf with the hermits talking casually about fics and someone (maybe bdubs) is like "man there's barely any fics about me and etho anymore they're only writing about him and gem" (or whatever. just so the topic comes up) but gem has such a hugeeee crush and she's so flustered and embarrassed and doesn't want etho to be uncomfortable and meanwhile etho's worried about /gem/ being uncomfortable

cw: rpf

“You know,” Bdubs starts, and Gem can almost picture his expression behind his computer screen — thoughtful, a little sly. “I don’t think they ship me and Etho like they used to.”

Gem’s elbow slips off her desk, her character in-game suddenly looking straight down at the ground, and she can hear the soft exhale of laughter Bdubs lets out, like he’s noticed.

She wonders if she can get away with pretending she never heard, if she can say Winnie got loose and distracted her and, oh, look at the time, she has to go for a thing she promised someone else —

“What are you saying about me?” Etho suddenly asks, his voice in her left ear as he moves closer, and Gem takes her hand off her keyboard to cover her eyes with one palm, face burning as she tries her best to silently beg the universe for mercy.

There’s no such luck.

“Do you remember that lecture I gave you about Dark Twitter?” Bdubs asks, and she can hear it in his voice, how he’s almost laughing, delighted at the opportunity to shit-stir. “Y’know, the shipping stuff that fans do? Pretending that we’re in love.”

Gem’s next best hope is that the ground will open and swallow her. 

“Bdubs,” she warns, because she might not be streaming, but that doesn’t mean that no one else is. Anyone could fly by and catch a snippet of what he’s saying, and she can only imagine the fallout online if that happens.

“It’s fine, Gem. Etho knows all about it, don’t you?”

She’s not worried about Etho.

“I, uh,” Etho starts and she can tell by his tone that he already regrets showing up and interrupting them.

“It’s okay,” Bdubs interrupts. “All you need to know is that Gem’s your new love interest.”

“Gem’s my new what?”

The head of Etho’s character swivels to stare right at her and Gem suddenly finds herself needing to pace in-game, her fingers tapping at the keys nervously as she parkours across the terrain around them.

“I have no idea what he’s talking about,” Gem lies and now Bdubs is staring at her too.

“I mean, it’s not surprising with the amount you two hang out together now. I happened to think the footage of you both digging the tunnel between your bases was cute.”

“Was it?” Gem questions, hoping that acting clueless will save her instead, but Bdubs hums quietly, like she won’t like what’s about to come out of his mouth.

“You keep saying you’re an Ethogirl, right? That you grew up watching him. It’s a cute match-up.”

Gem thinks about pulling the ethernet cable straight out the back of her desktop. It would be easy to blame it on a power-outage.

“I think you’re confusing fact and fiction again,” she mutters and Bdubs laughs.

“Oh, you’re right!” he says, too chipper for his own good. “It sounded like I was suggesting you two date in real life.”

Etho makes a noise, like a grunt of surprise, and Bdubs finally turns his view away from her to stare at him instead.

“Though, I mean, you’re both in Canada, right? It’s not beyond the realm of possibility.”

Bdubs apparently doesn’t know when to quit.

“Have you thought about dating Impulse?” Gem snaps, and Bdubs laughs before she even finishes the thought. “You’re both in the States. It’s not beyond the realm of possibility.”

Even Etho joins in, almost like his laughter slips out without permission. “She’s got you there, Bdubs.”

“If Impulse asked me out, I would be a perfect gentleman,” Bdubs tells them, and Gem has a headache brewing that might put her on the couch for the rest of the day. “How many bases do you think he’d let me round after one date?”

“I’m going,” Gem says suddenly, because if there was ever an out, that’s it. “You two can talk about Bdubs’ romantic exploits, but I have stuff to build.”

Bdubs laughs, but doesn’t try to argue, apparently done with his teasing, and Gem can almost taste freedom.

Until Etho says, “I’m sure a date with Gem wouldn’t be the worst I’ve been on.”

And Gem logs off.

#gemtho fortnight #fic

[realityandrebirth]

Cyrus Borg & Pixal

Warnings: robot injury.

The ninja rarely called him regarding Pixal���usually she contacted him herself—so when he recognized the call as coming from Master Wu, he put an important politician on hold to answer at once.

"Hello?" Cyrus said. "Is something wrong?"

"It's Pixal," Wu said. "She's injured."

His gut twisted. "How bad?"

"Unsure. She's conscious, but acting erratically. She won't let Jay or Nya look at the damage. She's asking for you."

That was all he needed to hear.

"I'll be there as soon as possible," Cyrus said. "Where are you? The monastery?"

"We're in Ninjago City. We haven't moved her."

He nodded. "What's the address?"

They were in the warehouse district. Cyrus confirmed the location and promised he'd be there soon. "Tell Pixal I'm on my way, alright?" he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "I have all my equipment with me, and I'll make sure she's alright. Tell her I love her."

"I'll pass on the message," Wu said. "I won't be there to meet you, but the others will."

The call ended. Cyrus informed his other call that an emergency had come up and disconnected without waiting for a response.

---

The warehouse had a hole blown into it spanning the ground floor to half the second, still smoking. Cyrus' heart dropped at the sight. "Keep going," he told his driver. "My daughter's hurt in there."

Zane and Nya met him at the entrance. "This way, Dr. Borg," Zane said. "She's still conscious, but she's stopped making any sense. She won't let anyone help her."

"Tell me what happened," Cyrus said, pushing himself with one hand and holding his supplies on his lap with the other. "What parts of her were damaged?"

"We're not sure," Nya said as they walked inside. The power was out, and she turned on a flashlight to light their way. "After the explosion, we found her rebooting herself upstairs. Her armor looked like it absorbed most of the shock, but her head was exposed. When she woke up, she was disoriented and couldn't tell us what happened."

Cyrus inhaled sharply. "Could be anything from a loose connection to something more serious. I won't know until I examine her." He paused. "You said she was upstairs?"

"I can carry you in your wheelchair," Zane said.

"Thank you."

His heart pounded as they ascended the stairs. Pixal would be fine. There was no damage he couldn't fix, short of total incineration, but—but Pixal was conscious. She was responding. She would be fine.

When they reached her, Cyrus couldn't restrain a distressed noise. Pixal was limp in Lloyd's arms, the green glow of her eyes fading in and out. She was rebooting, he realized, which only brought up more concerns.

"How many times has she rebooted?" were the first words out of his mouth.

Lloyd glanced at Nya. "Four times that we know of," he said.

"Including this one, I mean."

"Has anyone disturbed her during a reboot?"

"I mean, I caught her this time, but I figured it would be worse if she hit her head."

"No, you're right." Cyrus pushed himself over. "Lay her on her back. I'll have to wait until she wakes up."

Lloyd nodded. Cyrus got out of his chair to be closer to Pixal, taking in the damage. Her face had several cracks marring its surface, some worse than others, and her carefully rooted hair was in disarray. She had built the latest version of her body herself, commanding the machines of his factory from the computers she was bound to. Cyrus brushed over her bangs and a chunk of synthetic hair came out in his hand.

He looked around the room. Around them was an upturned table and a desktop computer laying screen-down on the ground. The explosion had done a lot of damage. He forced himself to look away.

When he returned his attention to Pixal, her eyes glowed green and stayed bright. Reboot complete. She blinked once and her eyes focused on him.

"Pixal," Cyrus said. "Pixal, can you hear me?"

Her lips moved. "Father," she said.

Cyrus exhaled. "Pixal, you were injured. Do you remember what happened?"

"No," said Pixal. "There are holes in my head."

His heartrate picked up. "Do you mean gaps in your memory?"

"Holes in my head," she repeated. "Father, something is—something is wrong."

She tried to sit up. "Lay there for me," Cyrus said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "I need to examine you. Pixal, I believe it would be safest if you were powered down while I repair the damage. Can you do that for me?"

Pixal's gaze drifted to the ceiling. "There is data on my drive I did not…" She trailed off. "I don't remember where it came from."

Cyrus took her hand. "Pixal, I need you to power down. Can you do that, or should I do it manually?"

"I—" Her voice glitched for a moment. "I don't know. Something is wrong."

"We'll figure it out together." Cyrus managed to smile at her. "I'm going to open your control panel, okay? Zane is going to help me take your armor off."

Zane was beside him at once. "Tell me what to do."

Pixal didn't struggle or speak as they removed her Samurai X armor, but just as Cyrus opened her chest panel, her eyes turned off. Cyrus thought—hoped—for a moment that she had shut down like he asked her, but realized the next second that she was rebooting again. "Five times," he said to himself.

"The last few times she was conscious for longer," Lloyd said. "She was moving around a little, too."

"Not good," Cyrus said. He leaned back and ran a hand through his hair. "Not good. When she wakes up again, I'll tell her what we're doing, and then I'll have to shut her down manually."

They waited in tense silence for the reboot to complete. Cyrus kept Pixal's chest panel open, watching the lights inside blink and flicker. He didn't recognize any of the lights as abnormal, but it had been so long since he had to repair Pixal himself.

Pixal woke up. "Father," she said.

"Pixal," said Cyrus. "Do you remember what happened?"

"No," she said. "You are repairing me. Why?"

Cyrus sucked in a breath. "You were injured. You have been rebooting over and over again, and I need you to power down so I can fix you safely. Do you understand?"

She blinked. "Father, there are holes in my head."

"You're going to be okay," Cyrus said. "We'll find out what's wrong, and we'll make sure you're okay. I'm going to power you down now, Pixal. I love you."

Pixal's eyes found him. "I love you too, Father."

He found the button to power her down. The light in her eyes faded. Cyrus took a moment to calm himself before he began examining Pixal.

Her hard drive appeared fine. The more Cyrus examined her hardware, the more he began to dread the problem was internal. He glanced back at the broken computer.

"Tell me what happened," he said. "Pixal was upstairs, there was an explosion, and the power went out."

"The power went out first," Lloyd said. "It was out for a few minutes before the explosion. Not sure how long, though. Probably less than ten? Is that important?"

"Maybe. I'm not sure." Cyrus pointed at the computer. "What about that?"

"It was like that when we found her."

"Bring it to me."

Zane picked up the computer and at the sight of the wire trailing from it, Cyrus realized what happened. From the way Zane froze, he knew too. "That's Pixal's," said Zane, unplugging the wire and staring at it. "Was she plugged into it?"

"She must have been," Cyrus said. "Whatever you were doing in here, she must have thought the computers had relevant data, and when the power went out, she would have had to connect to them herself to read the information." He took a breath. "That's not good, but it's better than if we didn't know about it."

He opened up his laptop and, after a moment of hesitation, plugged a fresh wire into it and into Pixal. "You'll be okay," he said to her unconscious body. "I'll make sure of it."

Doubts prickled at his mind, even as he scrolled through Pixal's files. What if the damage was unfixable? What if the damage had corrupted her core personality? What if he woke her up and she became someone else?

He steeled himself. If that was the case, he would mourn the daughter he knew and love the new daughter he had.

He lay on the floor for over an hour while the ninja kept watch. Some of her code was corrupted, but it appeared to only be technical functions, nothing that influenced her personality or emotions; normally, she could fix them herself, but something was preventing her from doing so.

After the first fifteen minutes, Jay brought him a glass of water, which Cyrus rejected. "I'm not going to risk spilling it," he said. "She's gone through enough as it is."

Finally, he found the problem. Cyrus sighed in relief and looked up. "I know what to do," he said. "Something damaged the program she uses to repair her own code, and instead of functioning as it should, whenever she tried to run it, it failed and made her reboot. I can run it manually from here."

"From the laptop?" Zane asked.

"Ah, no. With the amount of data on her, it would take hours to run it off something as small as this. I'll have to bring her home."

Zane tilted his head. "Would my processors be faster?"

Cyrus paused. "Well, yes, but… the risk is low, but your own data may be damaged in the process."

"I'm willing to risk it."

Cyrus didn't argue. He gave Zane instructions on what to do and connected him to Pixal. Zane carefully lowered himself to the floor beside her and sat up stiff and straight as he ran the program.

He didn't know how long it would take. Cyrus sighed. "I'll take that water now, Jay," he said.

After about ten minutes, Zane returned to full consciousness. "It's done," he said. "Hopefully she's alright now."

"Hopefully," said Cyrus. He put down his water and returned to Pixal's side. "Let me look at her head one more time."

After disconnecting Zane, Cyrus finished the cosmetic repairs to her head as best he could with the materials on hand. "Her vision should be fine," he said. "Alright. Hope for the best…"

His hand shaking, he powered her back on and leaned back to wait. The process was slow. The glow in Pixal's eyes faded in and out for what seemed like hours, though by Cyrus' watch, it was only thirty seconds. She blinked and turned to face him.

"Father," she said.

Cyrus smiled. "Pixal, how are you feeling?"

She frowned. "Could be better, but I assume this is an improvement from my prior state. My memories are not all there. You were repairing me?"

He sighed in relief. "You certainly sound better. Your maintenance program was malfunctioning. I had to go into your code to repair the damage."

Pixal nodded, then sat up. "We're still in the warehouse," she said. "Lloyd, what happened?"

"The guy we were chasing blew up half the building," Lloyd said. "Probably to destroy the evidence or something. You were caught in the blast. You were conscious, but not coherent, and you asked for Dr. Borg."

"Understood," Pixal said. "We should return to the monastery and–"

"Pixal," Cyrus interrupted, "you were injured, and I only performed the most urgent repairs. I would like to continue your repairs at Borg Tower."

"I appreciate it, Father, but I'm fine."

"Pixal," Zane said gently, "we were all very worried about you. This is not a mission where the fate of Ninjago is at stake. Please take the time you need to recover."

"But…"

Cyrus took her hand. "Please, Pixal," he said. "I need to make sure you're alright."

She relented. "Okay," she said, and leaned over to hug him.

Cyrus gratefully accepted the gesture. "I love you, Pixal," he said. "I love you too, Father."

#cyrus borg #pixal borg #ninjago pixal #ninjago #lego ninjago