#it's one that gives you a lot to chew on as far as the main plot goes. but if you arent paying attention you might bite something sour

[fungi-maestro]

Mr. Seal, I have seen people talking about The Death of Vic Sage lately. I don't know what this is. What is it and is it good? I am very new to The Question and my favorite is Renee. I wanted to ask due to it being a hot topic in the tag for these characters.

The Question: The Deaths of Vic Sage is a DC Black Label series that came out in 2019-ish. It follows Vic as he uncovers a conspiracy concerning a shapeshifting devil and cowboy reincarnation, all while under the influence of some serious hallucinogens. It also includes discussion of racism, both historical and current.

Some of the strongest criticism I've seen of this series is about the depiction of racism (combined with Vic being the only person in the world that can stop racism, apparently.) I would definitely say this is valid criticism. It's not a super great way for the narrative to frame it. They put a spin on it toward the end to talk about how Vic feels like he's the only good person in the world & seems to think he's the only one ever that can fix anything and how this isn't actually true, which felt like they wanted to talk about the white savior trope thing, but it seemed like the writing just shrugged at it. And then the story ended. Overall it felt like kind of a weak message. It deserves criticism for that, which I have seen people discuss recently and I agree with.

As far as whether it's "good" or not, this is something you'd have to decide for yourself. I liked some things, like the tie-in with plots and characters from the 80s run, the idea of The Question verses a monster that takes a million different faces & what that thing is supposed to represent in the human experience (bigotry and hatred that any person is capable of if they refuse to look at themselves and see it), and the entire thing with the hallucinating (a staple of the Question) and how it gives the comic a kind of dreamy atmosphere. Also, we get to see the amazing handiwork of Denys Cowan again, which feels right.

I obviously don't like the way they handled the Question's savior complex. I see what they were trying to do, but I felt like having him.... I shouldn't spoil it, should I? It made me facepalm when I saw him doing it. I wouldn't deprive you of that experience. But anyway some of the things he does in the comic seem antithetical to the point of the faceless, nameless Question in their mission to work behind the scenes. Maybe that's the idea, though. Vic is unreal levels of proud and arrogant in this comic. Way more so than usual. Slipping into Ditko territory, to be honest, and yet still within the realm of bizarre but standard Vic behavior. As Tot says, "Vic... You bastard."

Speaking of Tot, I am not a huge fan of him in this comic. He's fine, I guess, but he feels like he's only there to shake his head sadly at everything Vic says and does. Not very helpful. This isn't the old man I know and love. It isn't really the most important thing with the comic, though, so I guess I'll let it slide for now.

Anyway, my final verdict is that it's... Complicated. I think that would be the best way to describe it. It isn't super great, but it might be worth a read if you can approach it with a mind that is prepared to think critically about some of the themes and messages it presents. It's DC Black Label, so it isn't technically canon to anything, and I wouldn't consider it compliant to canon regardless. It has some good internal monologues for those that love them (I like them), and it has a section where it plays with The Question as a subset of a private investigator type character (which I appreciate as a detective connoisseur), but the clumsy and, in my opinion, tasteless attempt to tie it into current events combined with the portrayal of Vic with such a strange personality (definitely one of his oddball arcs) means this isn't a series that I would recommend if someone wanted an idea of what the character is. It's in the same category as PAX and that Frank Miller comic to me. Interesting, but not necessary to the character's story or personality building, and not for everyone.

TLDR; It's a hit and miss series. The artwork is good, some of the writing is good, but the parts where it is bad can easily outweigh the good. Read it for yourself if you want, but be warned for violent racism (I'm serious, please be warned for this. Do not go in without preparing yourself), and a weird characterization for basically everyone (I feel a little uncomfortable putting this here because of how not a big deal it is compared to the other warning. Still.)

#seal.txt #ask #anon #book club #the question #vic sage #the question: the deaths of vic sage #it's one that gives you a lot to chew on as far as the main plot goes. but if you arent paying attention you might bite something sour #not ''might'' really. you will most likely. theres a few parts that are hard to read. #this is not a mindless reading kind of comic. not that you should be reading comics mindlessly anyway. but you get the idea. #anyway i appreciate the formality. i laughed when i saw the ask preview ''mr. seal''. #it makes me feel like an English teacher instead of some guy from the internet that likes comics #welcome to the world of the question! renee rules and she is a good choice for a favorite 👍 #renee lovers and vic lovers are brothers in arms #go to the tag for the comic above if you want to see my comic caps and tag commentary from immediately after i read it

[izvmimi]

cw: pop star!au. fem!reader with diva & tsun tendencies. sfw but suggestive. possibly may have more parts.

When you finally show up to the studio, having woken up hours past your expected alarm such that you had to skip your yoga and your poolside brunch, your assistant is not happy to see you in the least, and the rest of your camera crew is at least a little bit miffed.

And quite frankly, you don’t give a flying fuck. 

You’re about forty-five minutes late, but the fact of the matter is that the main attraction is you, and only you, and as one of the top international pop stars of the decade, you have gotten a little too comfortable with letting your whims set the tone of things. The hustle and bustle of the set however starts up again the moment you walk in, as your head assistant claps her hands and lets the crew know to set up cameras, makeup and outfitting to get ready to put you in their chair and turn you magical. 

You walk right up to her and give her a cheeky grin. 

“Sorry, I overslept.”

Aya wishes she could throw you out of the nearest window but settles to say slap a script in a sheet of paper into your chest.

“This is the plan for the music video. Read this and don’t piss me off.”

You frown as you take it from her then scan through the crumpled piece quickly. Your newest music video is supposed to be a bit sexier than usual, with a pretty generic storyline - you play a damsel in distress saved by a dashing hero, the trope subverted by the fact that you’re a succubus, far from someone to be saved. You’re excited for it, having played a little bit too close to sweetheart territory for so long, and it’ll be your first time having an actual top Hero as your love interest, unlike your prior models who were more props than anything else.

But there’s one issue.

You crinkle your nose in distaste.

“You got Deku!?”

Aya raises her eyebrow adjusting thick rimmed glasses as she repositions her stance as though she’s preparing for a fight, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Is there a problem?”

You groan dramatically, then rush past her, pretending to be aggravated as you make your way towards the breakfast spread that has remained untouched until you arrived and stuff a dry croissant in your mouth.

“I asked for a hot Hero! Sexy! I ask you to do your goddamn job and you hire a man with green Teletubby energy!”

Somebody beside you scoffs, and as the two of you glance in the worker’s directions, he’s unable to stifle his laughter before he walks off, pushing a cart of cleaning supplies with him. You twist your mouth to the side, hands on hips, then turn your attention back to Aya.

“So you’re telling me Dynamight, Red Riot, and Shoto were unavailable?”

Aya’s lips press into a thin line. Despite being your assistant, she’s still one of your closest confidantes and she bites back just as hard as you can, and as usual, she does so now.

“I said, don’t piss me off, Tinkerbell. I’ll have you know I spent a lot of extra time making sure to-” she stops chewing you out suddenly, her eyes wide, and you blink, then turn. 

Deku is standing right behind you, and you’re 100% certain he heard your exchange. If he’s upset, he doesn’t show it, instead he’s smiling sheepishly, his hand scratching the back of his neck. 

“I think Kacchan was a bit busy and uh… Shoto probably wouldn’t have done this anyway, he’s not the type. As for Red Riot… that I’m not really sure...,�� he trails off, pensive.

You blink at him rapidly as you crane your neck to look at him.

Pro Hero Deku is a lot taller than he looks on television. His face is still boyish and friendly, the harmless look not necessarily limited to television, but when you take a look at the rest of his countenance, broad shouldered and thick, it’s clear that there’s a reason why he’s topping the charts currently.

Even if his soft look doesn’t particularly scream sex appeal. 

“Sorry you’re stuck with me.” He bows politely, hands pressed against the sides of his jeans. “Let’s work hard together!”

When he rises, he’s looking at you with hopeful anticipation, and the way his eyes practically glow with earnestness actually upsets you.

You open your mouth then close it. The diva persona of yours isn’t without an ounce of empathy, but he’s already getting on your nerves. You look at Aya who gives you the glare she does when she wants you to behave, but you’ve already stomped your foot and stormed away.

Frustrated and unsure why.

“I’ll be at my trailer, call me when we get started.”

—

The problem is that he’s hot, and you hate to be wrong.

The type of hot that makes your head spin when you’re too close, that makes you forget the words you’re supposed to be singing to him, that makes the fans that blow through your wig and flowing clothing not enough to manage the heat that runs through your body.

“Get closer!” the videographer screams behind the camera and you swallow thickly as Izuku moves first, crossing the already minimal distance between the two of you to wrap his arm around your waist and the other around your shoulders. It’s supposed to be a romantic, protective pose, and he’s not looking at you but at the camera, but he’s so close, he smells good, his clothes are dramatically torn, ripped in the way you’d expect after a tense battle but artificially so. Your heart thumps as if he were protecting you for real, and you hope he can’t sense it, the disarray that’s running from your center to your fingertips as you try desperately to figure out where to put your hands. 

“___, can you please find a way to make this look more natural?” you’re being barked at by your greatest hater and favorite employee.

Aya, please shut the fuck up, you want to tell her, but Deku hasn’t let you go. 

“Next take.”

Deku finally releases you and you let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. He’s smiling, the makeup dust and grime and blood barely marring his handsome features, in fact accentuating them.

They didn’t have to make him look this good. You’re going to have a talk with the visual designer, this is getting ridiculous.

“Sorry, was that okay?” He’s still smiling, bashful as if he’s the one who can’t stop looking at you, and imagining how his hands would feel pressed against your chest, when it’s very clearly the reverse. You wonder for a moment how easily he attracts the opposite sex with this sweet boy act, as if the plentiful scars on his broad chest, littered over his arms and likely below the pants hanging low on his waist, creeping past the Adonis belt aren’t evidence that perhaps he’s not so toothless after all.

You want to practically smack him, he frustrates you so damn much.

“Adequate,” you answer. The director tells you to take five and you step away quickly, practically falling off the fake set rubble on your way down.

You can’t even stumble the way you want to, because Hero Deku is fast and is holding onto your arm before you can make your way down.

“You okay?”

Unwittingly, you give him a distressed look, and he lets go quickly, and you storm off.

“I’ll be in my trailer!” you announce again, while the workers grumble that you’re supposed to literally only take five.

Aya is chuckling to herself this time, because she’s clocked you a mile away.

Tinkerbell has a crush.

#izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #daydreams: bnha #mimidoriya #mimi writes: pop star au

[ssareids-coffee]

hi ! i’m obsessed with the idea of best friend!eddie teaching virgin!reader how to give head😭😭 like maybe they’re watching a movie and a sex scene comes on and her having no experience she’s like “i wonder how it feels…does it feel good?” like genuine curiosity and omg he would be so vocal, soft, and instructional i can’t do this-

sorry this took so long!! but i hope you like it🫶🏻

sat on the sofa in his trailer, passing a joint between the two of you as a horror movie plays in the background. eddie hands you the joint, letting the smoke fill the air between you both. you’ve been best friends with eddie for almost your whole lives, so being curled up on his sofa under a blanket while your wearing one of his t-shirts and a pair of panties as he’s wearing his own plaid pyjama bottoms was nothing new.

‘what do you think of the move so far sweetheart?’ eddie asks casually, his arm wrapped around your waist as your head rests on his chest.

‘i really like it’ you say with a smile, finishing the joint and stubbing it out on the ashtray he keeps on the coffee table ‘i like the movie doesn’t take itself too seriously, makes it much more enjoyable’

eddie hums in agreement, his nose pressed to your head as you cuddle, taking in the scent of your shampoo. he knows it’s wrong to be harbouring these kind of feelings about his best friend, but there’s just something about you that makes him feel weak at the knees. he’s enjoying the moment of being close to you, when he starts to hear faint moans coming from the tv. he looks up, the main character of the movie having sex with her longtime boyfriend, he laughs.

‘literally the number one rule in a horror movie, if you fuck, you die’ he says with a laugh, looking down at you and watching your reaction to the scene unfolding. just as the main character climaxes, you turn to him.

‘does that feel, good?’ you ask, buzzed enough from the weed that your not entirely realising that your telling your best friend you have never had an orgasm. eddie feels his cheeks flush slightly and his cock stir involuntarily at the thoughts your question filled his mind with.

‘does what feel good? sex?’ he asks, slightly confused.

‘no, not sex, having an orgasm’ you say, looking back at the tv screen. eddies eyes widen at the realisation.

‘you’ve never had an orgasm?’ he asks, shocked ‘not even by yourself’

‘no, i mean i’ve tried but i can’t ever get myself to finish’ you say softly, feeling slightly embarrassed ‘does it feel good though?’ eddies mind is racing, partly because of the thoughts of you trying to touch yourself and not being able to cum.

‘uh- yeah it does feel good, like really good’ he says, clearing his throat so his voice does not make him sound as horny as he is.

‘have you ever made a girl cum before?’ you ask him, chewing on your bottom lip as you look up at him through long lashes.

‘yeah- a few times’

‘can you show me how you do it?’ you ask, the words falling out your mouth before you can stop them, his eyes widening and breathing becoming more laboured at your proposition ‘oh! not like that, like can you show me how you do it, like acting it out or something?’ you say shyly. eddie is sure he is dreaming, there is no way his beautiful best friend is asking him to explain him to show her how to cum, so she can then go home and touch herself using what he taught her. no- he shouldn’t be getting off on this, your his friend and friends ask each other for help, but he can’t deny that your innocence isn’t making him want to completely ruin you.

‘yeah, sure i can’ eddie replies, shifting on the sofa to turn so he’s facing you, holding one of his palms up ‘so, you know where your pussy is, but your clit is up higher, it’s that little bud right at the top, about here’ he says, using his other hand to point to the top of his outstretched palm.

‘the mistake a lot of people make is applying way too much pressure, or not going slowly enough’ he continues.

‘how do you find the right speed and pressure though?’ you ask curiously ‘i always find that i either can’t feel anything or i feel so much it hurts’

‘well the pussy and clit aren’t the only places a person can feel pleasure, working yourself up first can help with that kind of thing’ he says, clearing his throat as he tries not to picture you with your hand down your panties when your home alone.

‘working myself up how?’

‘uh- teasing yourself, playing with your nipples, teasing yourself over your panties’ eddie replies, looking at you with flushed cheeks and dilated pupils ‘taking things slowly with yourself until your really desperate, can feel how much you need it, it’ll help’

‘okay, that makes sense’

‘you’ll want to start on the outside, working on your clit, but when you get wet enough you can try putting a finger inside yourself. it’ll be tight, but you want to curl your finger till you find a spongy spot, and you want to hit that again and again, that’s your gspot’

‘can you make someone cum just using their gspot?’ you ask, your face mirroring his own desire.

‘yeah, you can, but most women need some kind of clitoral stimulation to cum too, so using both hands to work different areas would most likely help’ he says, noticing that your squeezing your thighs together, cheeks slightly flushed- were you, turned on by this?

‘i have such short fingers though’ you say, placing your palm against his to show the clear size difference ‘i don’t know if mine could reach that far inside’ you say with a small pout. eddie clears his throat, trying to think about anything other than how close you both were and the image of you fingering yourself that was now playing on repeat in his head.

‘right- uh, i guess that could be a problem’ he says, eyes locked onto yours, face subconsciously moving closer to yours.

‘eddie’ you say softly, fingers now intertwined with his ‘can you show me’ you ask, voice barley above a whisper.

‘are you asking what i think your asking?’ he says breathlessly, nose bumping against yours as you are drawn to each other.

‘yes, can you show me how to make myself cum’ you whisper, and that’s all the confirmation that eddie needed before his lips were on yours. years of pent up feelings are pouring out of him as he kisses you, he desperately tried to remember everything about how you feel against him incase this never happens again. he reluctantly pulls away, turning you round so your back is flush against his chest as he sits on the sofa.

‘can i take these off sweetheart?’ he asks, voice thick with desire as he tugs at your borrowed shirt.

‘please’ you whisper, he pulls the fabric off your body, leaving you in just a pair of panties. he feels like he could cum in his pants just from looking at you, the way your back is pressed to him, your tits on full display for him as he takes in your almost naked form.

‘we’re gonna start with working you up, okay angel?’ he says sweetly, lips finding their way to your neck as his hands run up and down your stomach, occasionally grabbing your hips and giving them a squeeze. the feel of his lips on your neck and his hands finally on you after all this time, you let out a breathy moan which makes eddies already hard cock impossibly harder. he slowly reaches up and starts gently touching your boobs, tracing your nipples with his thumb as his mouth finds its way to your earlobe, gently biting it. your back is arching, head falling back against his shoulder as his name falls from your lips like a prayer. your squirming now, bucking your hips up as he tugs on one of your nipples as you let out an almost pornographic moan.

‘eddie, please’ you moan desperately, breathing now laboured as he touches you everywhere but the place you need him most. he takes your panties off, slipping them down your legs as he lets out a groan at the sight of you now naked against him.

‘okay sweetheart, give me your hand’ he says, voice heavy with lust as you place the back of your hand against the palm of his ‘good girl, now your gonna touch yourself, and i’m gonna help guide you with my hand like this okay?’

‘please’ you whisper, your hand moving down your stomach and towards your aching pussy. your fingers catch on your clit, making you gasp at the sensation, his hand still firmly placed against yours, guiding each movement. he starts with small, soft circles on your clit, your already whining and moaning at the feeling- you didn’t know it could feel this good. he can hear just how wet you are, each circle of your clit with your finger making a soft squelching noise from just how turned on you were, making his cock strain even more against his pyjama pants- but this isn’t about him, it’s about you. he slowly starts to increase the pace of his hand against yours, speeding up the movements of your fingers against your clit.

‘eddie, feels so good, didn’t know it could feel so good’ you pant, head thrown back on his shoulder as your eyes squeeze shut, cheeks flushed from arousal.

‘i know baby, your doing so well’ he says softly, using his free hand to gently stroke your hair before moving his fingers down to your neglected nipples.

‘fuck- something feels, different’ you say through a moan, hips now grinding against your own (and also his) hand as your breath comes out in short gasps.

‘it’s okay sweetheart, you gonna cum? your doing so well, you can cum’ he says, coxing your orgasm out of you with each brush of your nipple and circle of your clit. the coil in your stomach burst, crying out as you grind your pussy desperately against your fingers, crying out his name as slick gushes from you. eddie can’t stop himself now, he’s all but humping your back, desperate for any kind of release now your cumming. you cum down from your orgasm, head fuzzy from the pleasure. he softly removes his hand from yours, moving it to your jaw to lift your chin upwards so your looking at him.

‘you did so good angel, so fucking good’ he says breathlessly, kissing you again.

‘eddie’ you mumble against his lips ‘can you show me how to touch a dick now?’

‘fuck’

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson drabble #abby talks #eddie munson request #eddie stranger things smut #screaming crying salivating

[ywnzn]

boy next door ᡣ𐭩 alright?

ᡣ𐭩 song eunseok x fem!reader

ᡣ𐭩 synopsis. in which yn keeps texting a random number life updates, that turns out to be the boy next door.

ᡣ𐭩 warnings. smau parts at the beginning & end, lower case intended, not proofread, mentions of food? a little cheesy 🤷🏻‍♀️

ᡣ𐭩 wc. 531

eunseok giggled at the texts before he shut his phone and slipped it into his pocket, ignoring the way it kept vibrating and turning his attention to the girl who was busy gawking at the cafe's decor.

“looks like you like it here.” he broke her out of her dazed state; to which she smiled sheepishly to. “yeah.. you brought me to a miffy themed cafe, eunseok.. of course i like it.”

of course he had to bring her to anything miffy related. he liked the way she squealed whenever she saw the character. even her outfit had miffy-related things to it, including her famous hair accessory.

“then, i’m glad,” he smiled and leaned back in his chair, tilting his head. “there’s a store i wanna take you to as well. it’s not far from here.” yn nodded and soon after, the waiter came with their orders.

after having brunch together, eunseok took her to a miffy store, again, he had to.

it got hard for him to hide the way her reactions towards things made him smile, so he gave up on doing that as a whole. and a smile was kept on his lips, with occasional laughter here and there.

“oh, seok, look! they have rings,” yn gasped, picking up two rings that she thought matched their styles and turned around to show them to him.

eunseok walked to where she was standing, examining the rings. “do you want them?”

“yeah, i think i’m gonna get both,” she giggled before she moved to the plushie section.

“i’m pretty sure you don’t have any plushies at your place.” yn said, looking around at the different miffy plushies. “does a keychain count?”

yn gave him a judging look and she shook her head:“no, it doesn’t count!”

yn spent the next 20 minutes helping the boy look for the perfect plushie for him, after lots of struggling, the one that eunseok liked was a gray miffy plushie. so they got that along with the rings.

by the end of the afternoon, the two were already walking home because eunseok had evening classes.

yn cursed the moment she planned her outfit because now she was getting cold due to the cool spring breeze.

but of course eunseok noticed the way she shivered, and of course he took his jacket off and draped it over her shoulders.

“you don’t have to.” yn frowned at him, attempting to remove it and give it back, but eunseok shook his head; dismissing her. “i want to.”

“eunseok, is this…” yn spoke after a moment of comfortable silence; earning a hum from the boy. “is this a date?”

eunseok stopped in his tracks, looking at her now with an unreadable expression. “do you want it to be a date?”

yn shrugged, chewing down on her lower lip to silence herself. “yn, do you want it to be a date?” he said, his thumb and index fingers gently holding her chin, tilting her head up.

“…yeah”

“alright,”

“alright?”

eunseok smiled and took his hand off her chin, only to slip it into hers and pulling her to continue walking. “yeah, alright, it’s now considered a date, our first date.”

₊ ⊹ prev | next ⊹ ₊

ᡣ𐭩 notes. ik badtz-maru is not a miffy character but lets act like it is😣

ᡣ𐭩 taglist. [open!] @kyusqult @starwonb1n @teddywook @seunghancore @molensworld @ahnneyong @lecheugo @eternalgyu @rksbae @hakkkuu @wonychu @nakam00t @totheseok @ilovechanhee @strawbaemi @miyawakiblossoms @kgyam4 @sseastar-main @rosesfortaro @dodot04lover @daegale @b-riize @snoopyana @lipsbyive @bludzk1llzyuzu @keilovr @ksywoo @bambisnc @poollabug @rllymark @jinanangel @bunni @drinktaro @wonbinsvlle @lcvehee @snowyseungs

#ᡣ𐭩 ywnzn posts #ᡣ𐭩 boynextdoor #eunseok fluff #eunseok smau #eunseok x reader #riize imagines #riize smau #riize x reader #eunseok angst #eunseok x you #riize angst #eunseok fic #riize eunseok #eunseok riize #eunseok scenarios #riize reactions #riize masterlist #riize scenarios #riize fluff #riize #kpop smau #kpop fluff #kpop imagines

[claimedcrossbows]

Served! Sanji x Fem!reader Pt. 2

Slight anime spoilers/foreshadowing.

THANKS FOR ALL THE SUPPORT ON THE FIRST CHAPTER!!! <3

Your anxiety was at a full ten as all you could do was listen to pots banging and clattering and Sanji yelling at his makeshift team of chef’s that consisted of a green haired sword fighter, a liar, and a rubber man who wanted to eat everything he saw.

You almost got up from your bed when you heard what sounded a awful lot like a fire extinguisher.

“Oh my God i’m doomed.” You mumbled still clutching your stomach.

You sighed looking over at the orange haired woman occupying your sisters bed and wondered how this woman had managed to make it this far with a crew full of idiots.

If she survived she definitely had your full sympathy.

You sighed looking back over your recipe book that contained numerous healing recipes that you had mastered over the years.

From the looks of the woman it seems she has been bitten by some type of insect, probably from a warm island climate if you had to take a guess.

You skimmed through your book trying to see what recipe would best suit the woman.

Your thoughts were however interrupted by a knock on your door.

You slowly got up and answered the door surprised to see Sanji standing before you.

“How’s Nami?” He immediately asked, looking slightly past you into your room to see his friend still unconscious.

“She’ll get better when I start on the recipe I need to heal her, I already have a few in mind, but that’s not going to happen anyway unless you serve a meal worthy of a outstanding letter of recommendation from the food critic.” You said crossing your arms.

He nods, “That’s why I came up here, come down stairs for a food test.” He said.

You nod your stomach still doing sommersaults but you’d brave anything to make sure your got a good review tonight. So you followed Sanji down stairs and nearly fell out when you saw the state of your kitchen.

It looked like a sea beast had torn apart your kitchen.

“Sweet Jesus…” You said.

“I promise I will clean it thoroughly.” Sanji quickly intercepts seeing you look like you were about to collapse from the sheer shock. “LUFFY I TOLD YOU TO STOP STANDING ON THE TABLES!” Sanji yelled kicking him off.

“Owwww Sanjiii!! I was trying to reach the pots!!” Luffy groaned.

“I Put you on untensil cleaning what could you possibly need a pot for!?” Sanji angrily yelled.

“TO BOIL THE CRAB DUH!” Luffy yelled back.

“WHY ISN’T THE CRAB BOILED!?” Sanji seethed.

“BECAUSE USOPP DIDN’T WANNA TOUCH IT!!” Luffy yells pointing at Usopp.

“IT PINCHED MY NOSE!” Usopp exclaimed.

“I’m lost..” Zoro says holding up two spoons one which was the soup spoon and the other the tea spoon.

“WHEN ARE YOU NOT!?” Sanji hissed throwing a ladle at the mans head.

“WATCH IT CASANOVA!” Zoro seethed.

Sanji sighed turning to you, “Come this way Y/N.” He said directing you out to the dining hall that to your surprise had been miraculously fixed up and in front of you were the main courses and appetizers for the night.

“These are the samples that your sister helped me make, she’s currently looking for some more seasonings for the seafood gumbo.” He paused then continued, “She’s a really fantastic cook, i’m sure she learned from you.” Sanji said giving you a more pollite smile than the flirtatious ones he used earlier.

All you gave was a nod as you began trying some of the lobster mac and jambalaya.

You watched Sanji stare at you with the upmost confidence in his dishes as you chewed and swallowed the rest making sure to have a complete poker face all throughout.

Your little sister enters the room and sees you testing the food.

“Y/N how is it!? I made sure he followed your recipe’s to the highest degree!” She boasted.

You put your fork down and stared at both of them, “The jambalaya could definitely use more kick, the lobster mac a bit more salt, and i’m assuming you prepared the alligator?” You said looking at your little sister.

You take the entire platter of alligator and basically shove it at her.

“Y-yes!” She said shakily.

“It’s too tough, 86 it, and do it over again.” You said flatly.

“R-right!” She said taking the platter and immediately running off her face heavily dissapointed.

You look back over at Sanji who to your surprise had sat down pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and was already mid smoke watching you and your sister interact.

“Ooh your tough, reminds me of Zeff.” He notes blowing out a puff of smoke.

“Who told you you could smoke in my restaurant?” You said plucking the cigarette out of his hand.

He smiles, “My apologies.” He says. “So back to the cutting board?” He asks.

“No. Yours was actually good it can go out.” You said then added, “Guess Zeff instilled some sense in you when it comes to cooking.” You noted.

Sanji laughs, “I can out cook him on my worst day.”

“Hmm, add some more seasonings to those dishes and they’ll be set.” You said. “Just no oregano okay?” You stressed.

Sanji paused and stared at you with a awe struck look followed by a bright smile that nearly blinded you, “I think I just fell for you harder.” He said breathlessly.

“I don’t believe in love at first sight.” You say flatly.

“Then maybe I should walk in again?” He offered a flirty smile gracing his lips once again.

“You are really making me sick.” You sighed feeling the nausea creep back upon you.

“Love sick?” He raised a brow.

“No. Just sick, sick.” You plainly say as his smitten look remained on his face.

You shoot the cook a puzzled look and shake your head, “Okay lover boy, dinners in a few, i’m going back upstairs to look through my healing recipes.” You say turning to leave before the love cook could utter another word.

Before you went upstairs you could hear Luffy screaming, “SANJIII ONE OF THE CRABS ESCAPED!!”

“HOW!?” You could hear sanji angrily yell back.

“IT’S NOT OUR FAULT IT HAD A KNIFE!” Usopp could be heard squealing.

“ZORO FIGHT IT!” Luffy could be heard yelling.

Next thing you heard was “THREE SWORD STYLE!!” Followed be a whole lot of ruckus.

It would be a miracle if you pulled this dinner service off you thought.

-

It was dinner time and you had succesfully managed to find a recipe you think would work on the bedridden woman now it was just time for Sanji to uphold his end of the deal you. Your stomach was still in knots but you managed to dress yourself up for the dinner service and walk yourself down the stairs to a restaurant full of customers some seated, some waiting to be seated.

Your sister along with Zoro and Usopp seemed to be waiting tables, you laughed just a bit when your sister had to instruct Zoro more than several times where the empty tables were for people to be seated.

Your sight suddenly caught a man to the far right back corner of the restaurant by himself and every chef’s insight when it came to food critics kicked in and you knew this must be the food critic.

You nearly threw up again this time anxiety induced as you quickly ran towards the kitchen and screamed for Sanji.

“Sanji!” You yell out of breath by the time you entered the kitchen.

“Mon cheri is everything okay?” He asks setting the frosting down since he was in the middle of decorating desserts.

“The-The Critic is out there far right back corner table.” You stressed. “ I cannot meet him in the state i’m in.” You explain.

“You look stunning though.” He said admiring your outfit.

“If sweaty, pale, and exasperated is stunning I must be frickin gorgeous then, Sanji go out there and talk to them!” You say grabbing the man by the tie and dragging him towards the door but not before the door opened and your sister stood their smiling.

“I met the food critic!!” She boasted.

Your blood ran cold immediately.

“You what?” You asked.

“I met the food critic!” She repeated, “And guess what since we were running out of appetizers due to the crawfish shipment being delayed I offered him some of the shrimp skewers I made left over from last night, they were such a big hit I thought he’d like them!” She excitedly said.

“There were leftovers…I thought we ate them all-”

“Well yeah but I saved a plate for myself for later, it’s a good thing I didn’t eat them though.” She smiled excitedly.

Your heart rate was in over drive and you had never ran so fast in your entire life.

“Don’t eat that shrimp skewer!!” You yell in a room full of crowded people who all pause and look at you appauled.

Your eyes meet the food critic and his empty appetizer plate and you nearly collapse right there.

Your sister hurries behind you followed by Sanji who looked just as lost as everyone else in the room.

You watch the food critic approach you and you swear the world is spinning at this point.

“Are you the owner of this establishment?” The critic says their eyes boring into you with peak interest.

You couldn’t read his face which only heightened your panic, “Y-yes sir..” You stutter.

“Well Ms, I suggest your get some new wait staff, that gentleman over there ate my appetizer before I could even take a bite!” He angrily says.

Your eyes widen in confusion until the critic points to the back of the restaurant where you could see Luffy laying flat on his back on a table surrounded by gobbled up scraps from desserted plates.

“LUFFY!” Sanji yells.

“Uhhgggg I don’t feel so well.” He groans.

“Ah..I apologize sir, please allow us to get you another appetizer and perhaps a bottle of our fancy wine?” You offer.

The critic contemplates for a minute and then nods, you sigh and relief and Sanji quickly goes to serve the critic his food.

You let out a sigh of relief as your sister still looks at you puzzled by everything that had just occured.

You say nothing as you walk back upstairs suddenly needing to lie down.

-

The dinner service ended and you were too scared to go back downstairs to see what had happened. It wasn’t until you heard a knock on your door that you got up and answered it. There stood Sanji still wearing his suit and famous smile.

“Come downstairs?” He asked.

You nodded following him downstairs as he lead you past the dining room, past the kitchen, and outside at the back of the restaurant where a nice deck stood over looking the ocean.

“So you found the deck huh?” You quipped as you saw a table and two chairs set up that hadn’t been there before.

“It’s peaceful back here.” He noted.

“It is.” You agree sitting down noticing a lidded tray in the middle of the table.

You shoot him a bewildered look and he just smiles unveiling the plate just like he would any other customer.

There in front of you on a plate layed a single letter, and a drink.

“The drink is a pear ginger smoothie to help settle your stomach, and the letter is from the critic, bon appetite.” He says smiling warmly as he sits across from you.

You give him a short smile and sip the smoothie actually surprised with just how good it is.

“It’s not a healing recipe, but it should still help ease the nausea” He says.

“Thank you.” You say as you focus your attention back onto the letter, “Did you read it?” You ask.

“It’s your restaurant Mi’lady.” He says, “You should do the honors.” He says.

You nod as you pick up the letter and take a deep breath before reading it.

As you read you could feel Sanji’s eyes locked onto you and you weren’t sure if it was due to anticipation or something else as you could feel his inquistive eyes never leave you.

You set the letter down and look at him.

“Well East Blue Boy, you did it!” You smiled watching a wide smile spread upon his face.

“Great review?” He asked happily.

“4 out of 5 stars, mostly because of the poor wait staff-”

“I Apologize for Luffy.” Sanji immediately cuts in.

“Actually I think he saved me.” You sigh putting the letter down as sitting further back in your chair.

“Yeah what was that about earlier?” He asks shooting you that same questioning look as he reached in his pants pocket and pulled out a lighter and another cigarette.

“Geez what are you a chimney?” You quip.

“I’m assuming it’s okay now that we’re outside?” He asks before he lights.

“Eh it’s your lungs.” You shrug.

He gently laughs, “You trying to stall?” He asks.

You sigh frowning a bit, “I know what caused me and my entire staff to contract food poisoning.” You admit.

“Yeah I was wondering about that, how does a chef as talented as you get food poisoning?” He asks.

“It wasn’t me..” You admit. “It was my sisters shrimp skewers.” You explain.

“Wait-the ones she gave the critic!?” Sanji eyes widen. ”Those very ones.” You nod, “Thank God Luffy ate them before he did, ohh wait he’s okay right?” You ask kind of worried about the bouncy kid.

“Luffy’s immune to most poisons, he’s fine just a mild stomach ache I gave him one of the ginger smoothies as well.” Sanji says.

“That’s good.” You say tiredly.

“Your sister though? She’s so talented?” Sanji asks.

You shake your head, “She’s amazing, she’ll probably be better than me at some point..but she’s young, passionate and quite forgetful, always so quick to move from one thing to the other, like leaving those shrimp skewers out for hours and only fridgerating it after it had been out most of the day.” You sigh.

“Ah..so that’s how it happened.” Sanji sort of chuckles. “Zeff would’ve had my head if i had let something like that happen, but you made her my sous chef?” He wonders.

“She’s young, and makes mistakes, but when she’s serious she’s one of the most talented upcomers i’ve ever seen.” You say proudly. “I knew with a critic coming in she was going to give it her all.”

“You trusted her even though it could’ve meant the end of your restaurant?” He states admiration for you ghosting his face.

“Of course, she’s my sister.” You shrug giving a small smile.

He returns the smile as you both fall into silence.

You can’t help but notice his blue eyes and how much they shined looking at you in a way you couldn’t quite place.

You clear your throat and stand up, “Well since you fulfilled your end of the bargain I better start making the recipe to heal your friend.” You say.

He nods and you begin walk to the door turning around as you see him still seated there.

“Aren’t you coming?” You ask.

He raises a brow in confusion.

“Come on your going to help me.” You say watching his eyes light up.

“Yes Chef!” He says smiling as he puts his cigarette out and follows you in.

-

Hey guys wow this was supposed to be 2 parter at most, but now I'm thinking I might make a 3rd part, let me know if it’s something you want though.

Oh and here's a video of the crab fighting Luffy, Usopp and Zoro!!

#sanji x y/n #vinsmoke sanji #one piece sanji #sanji x reader #opla sanji x reader #sanji #roronoa zoro #usopp #one piece netflix #Youtube

[blixssily]

Hey!! Congrats on 100+ followers 🎺🎉

Not sure if your requests are open, so feel free to ignore this if they’re not! <3

Can I request some JJK headcanons. Specifically Geto with a younger sibling? (They’re also a jujutsu sorcerer).

And can this be one where he doesn’t turn into the cult leader?

This new season of jjk has been ROUGH and I just need some fluff content😭

Thanks! Have a great day/night!

💜

"stop growing up so fast."

| you're their younger sibling!! how do they treat you?

| gojo satoru, geto suguru included

˓ ꒱ notes and disclaimers: characters might be ooc (especially nanami), reader is their younger sibling and is gender neutral. apologies for any spelling mistakes!!

˓ ꒱ authors notes: thank you so much for this request!! honestly i haven't been writing jjk that much so i apologise if these are ooc :( my requests are always open as of now so please feel free to send some in!!

| gojo satoru *◞

i feel like he'd make a really fun big brother, the type you can joke about anything with. you two would always end up a little late to class, you always blame it on his antics but he insists that you were the main cause of why the two of you were late.

he'd be the type to steal your snacks and a) insult you for your tastes in snacks/sweets or b) he would steal more when you weren't looking.

"did you. just take. another one of my snacks behind my back."

"no i didn't." whilst he's literally chewing on the said snack he stole.

i can kinda see him being a little protective of you too, not in an overbearing way but more of a "i'll look out for you" kinda way. like in a scenario where you two get sent on a mission together, he's more likely to be more observant when it comes to you. he'd still tease you if you got scared by something but when he senses that you're stressed or anxious he'd give you a light pat on your shoulder.

"there's no need to be scared." you look up at him as he lightly patted your shoulder. "your big brother is the strongest after all." he'd say in his usual light hearted (cocky) tone, and suddenly all admiration you might've had for him has been throw away as you kick the back of his knee a little. you laugh in his face as his stumbles a little.

i feel like whenever the both of you go out for lunch or dinner together he always insists on paying, in the most asshole way ever.

"i could never let my baby sister pay for my meal!" as he jokingly pushed the bill closer to your side of the table. yet before you can grab it he snatches it out of your reach. "it's ok, you're probably too poor to even pay for me." even though he knows you're just as rich as him.

yet if he ever got the sense that he went too far in his antics he'd apologise, maybe not in the most forward way but you'd know he means it. he'll buy you either something that you've been wanting for awhile or just some of your favourite snacks.

id like to imagine that whenever you go on solo missions, he'd secretly be really worried for you. he knows you can fight amazingly (having learned from the best) but he just can't help that uneasy feeling. suguru and shoko can sense when he's anxious, his leg is bouncing up and down as he's waiting for you at the entrance of jujutsu high. when he sees you he acts like he hasn't been worrying over you at all.

"fiiiiinaly you're back, i was stuck here waiting for you." he pretends to act annoyed at having to wait there for his younger sibling and you just roll your eyes and flip him off.

whenever you're sad or in need of comfort he honestly wouldn't know what to do. sometimes he walks past your room and he can hear the faint sound of sniffles. he stops in his place, contemplating if he should go inside your room or act like he never heard you at all. ultimately he usually sends you a text saying that he's proud of you, that you deserve a break and that you two should go out sometime to relax.

[tooth brush 8:47 a.m -> you] "hey, you've been going on a lot of missions lately. wanna go out to relax a little? my treat."

[tooth brush 8:48 a.m -> you] "i'm proud of you yk?"

you leave him on read but he knows you appreciated it, he goes up to you after school asking where you'd like to go out for dinner.

he'd introduce you to his friends, namely suguru and shoko. you guys actually spend some nights together playing games or watching movies. you guys aren't in the same year (reader is one year younger than gojo) but when you pass by the trio in the hall you sometimes like to mess with your brother by only greeting suguru and shoko.

"morning getou, morning shoko." you bow slightly to them, blatantly ignoring your older brother.

"hey! what about me??" he stops as he turns his head back to you. "oh sorry, didn't you see there." you say as you snick your tongue out at him, sprinting forward as he starts chasing you down the halls. shoko immediately pulls out her phone as suguru just leans against the wall and laughs at the two of you.

| geto suguru *◞

amazing older brother, very chill with you. honestly he lets you do whatever you want as long as it's not harming you in any way. you guys don't often go out together but i feel like he's the type to just send you funny pictures or videos.

he's the kind of older brother who would, after an afternoon of going out with satoru at the arcade, would come back with a plush of a character you liked or something you've said that you've wanted for awhile.

"hey i got you something" and it's this ginormous plushie he's somehow managed to fit through the door.

"you don't have to always bring me back something whenever you go out with gojo. i barely have any space left on my bed." you laugh, taking the huge plushie from your big brother. "just put some on the floor then."

"has going out with gojo so much caused you to go dumb??" you stare at him. "i'm gonna tell that to him." he sighs as he pulls out his phone.

when you two go on a mission together, it's usually pretty casual between the two of you. you both have the same calmness about you when on missions, only engaging in light conversations and mild teasing. you bullying suguru and he bullies you back but you end up complaining that he's so mean to his baby sister, that as the big brother he should be nice to you. you laugh as he rolls his eyes.

if he notices that during the mission you seem a little uneasy he'd ask if there was anything wrong or if you had noticed something.

"what's wrong? is something wrong?" he asks, slowing down his pace as you walk next to him. "nothing. it's stupid." you sigh, trying to put on your best nonchalant face but you know it won't fool your brother for long.

"try me, i spend almost everyday with satoru." you both laugh at this. "i'm just feeling a little nervous that's all." you huff out after a few more moments of silence.

"hmm, i can't help much with that to be completely honest but i know you'll be fine in this mission. you're strong, if you need any help, i'll be right behind you." he assures you, going deeper into the dark building you two were assigned to.

i feel like he'd also be a little protective of you like satoru. if you have any guy friends come over to your room or you go out with a guy he'd interrogate you on what happened. and if he ever found out that someone hurt you or you got hurt during a mission, you wouldn't even dare tease him about this protective side of him.

"who did this to you?" he'd ask with an eerie calmness in his voice as he's dressing your wounds. "it's fine really, i exorcised the curse already. i just got a little clumsy is all." you laugh it off, wincing as he dabs on some ointment on your arm.

"tsk, be more careful next time." he'd sigh, more relieved than annoyed actually. he's proud you defeated such a powerful curse but he still worries about your safety.

if he senses that you've been losing motivation to go to school or not talking to your friends much he'd come into your room unannounced to make sure that everything was ok. he's been through what you're going through right now and he doesn't want you to go through such a dark place.

"hey, i noticed you look kinda out of it recently. what's going on?" he asks, sitting next to you on the floor while you're sitting on your bed, his back is turned to you.

when you don't respond he speaks up again. "it's fine if you don't wanna answer me or even talk right now. i want you to know that no matter how busy i am or how much time i spend with satoru or shoko that i'm always here for you. you're my favourite sister after all." he adds in the last part to try to get a laugh out of you.

"i'm your only sister." you slightly smack his shoulder as giggle. he's glad he's able to make you laugh in times like these.

you always ask him where he buys his shampoos or hair masks and he just smiles at you, pretending like he never heard you at all. you've ask him the same question for years now and he's never given you the answer.

[you 2:54 p.m-> big brother ru] "if you don't tell me where you get your shampoo from i'm gonna cut your hair in your sleep."

[suguru 3:03 p.m -> copycat] "kys."

i imagine that whenever you were younger you'd always look up to suguru as your inspiration. kinda following what he would do when you both were just kids. hence the contact name now

you're actually good friends with shoko! you meet up with her sometimes for lunch after school. you like bullying gojo with your brother but when you're alone with him you get quiet cause you're only able to insult him casually when your older brother is around.

"why are you so quiet when suguru isn't around??" gojo asks, suguru left to get you guys some drinks from the vending machine (he lost a scissors paper stone match..) "dunno, you scare me." you shrug causing shoko to laugh.

"yea stop scaring our poor junior." the arm that shoko has around your shoulder tightens. "satoru tends to scare people like that." suguru sits back down in the space between you and satoru. "stop scaring my sister will you?" "i wasn't even doing anything!" while you and shoko just laugh at them.

notes and reblogs are heavily appreciated !!

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #should this even be considered x reader if reader is their sibling.....

[604to647]

Safest with You (Ch. 9 - The Dam Breaks)

6K / Modern AU Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Summary: Din finally comes upstairs and <see above gif>.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please; for serious, this is the first chapter in the "main" series that is explicit.) Porn with feelings, but it’s still 93.2% porn: unprotected PiV sex (discussed), multiple orgasms, oral (m and f receiving), fingering, they sort of... "make love"? Sorry for the ick but let's call a spade a spade, kissing, dirty talk, a wee bit of daddy kink, dipping their toes into a light degradation kink, tons of petnames as usual (baby, pretty bird, sweet girl, sweetheart, etc.)

A/N: I'm sorry for this gif. I'm sorry for all of it.

Two other thoughts: First, I said somewhere else that I think writing smut takes practice, and I still consider myself to be in the practice stage - I hope it's enjoyable, but I feel like I have room for improvement. Second, totally understand if you've been reading this series for the fluff and maybe this isn't your bag (thus far, the smut has been contained to the separate one-shots and drabbles); that's okay, feel free to skip this one! I concede this is a lot of boinking, but that’s sort of what the story, and specifically this chapter, has been building to. In future chapters, there will probably be more of a mix (plot, fluff, angst, smut) 👍🏻

Series Masterlist

It’s the hottest elevator ride of your life.  The second the doors start to close, shielding you from your lobby guard’s view, you and Din move towards each other.  Din reaches you first and crashes his mouth to yours with a force that pushes you against the moving elevator’s walls, knocking the air out of your lungs.  Barely allowing you the moment you need to breathe properly, Din continues his invasion of your mouth, tongue massaging yours in hard, long strokes; his hands moving with similar urgency, moving up and down your sides.  When his thumbs flick over your nipples, you let out a catastrophic groan and your legs give out a little; lucky for you, Din has no problem holding you up.  Mouth never leaving yours, Din crosses your wrists over your head, holding them with one hand while sliding his free hand down to your ass.  Already arching into him from this new position, you buck into Din’s thigh when you feel him grab a fistful of one ass cheek and squeeze.

Chuckling, Din gives you a little lick on the neck beneath your ear, “Eager, aren’t we?  Don’t worry, pretty bird, I’ll give you what you need.”

Before you can respond, the elevator doors open with a ding, and you’ve never been more relieved to see the empty hallway of your floor and not the scandalized face of some poor unsuspecting neighbour.  Pausing only to pick up the dog leash that you dropped when Din had you pinned, you practically drag him by the hand to your door.

Once inside, you busy yourself with Al’s nighttime ritual (fresh bowl of water, dental chew), leaving Din free to take in your apartment.  The front foyer opens immediately to an open concept space so he can see clear across a living room area that’s adorn with perfectly complimentary furniture, all the way to the floor to ceiling windows lining a balcony that runs across the length of the unit.  To the right is a spacious kitchen, with a generous island littered with cooking tools and appliances.  Dog accessories make an appearance in every free nook and cranny, leaving no doubt who rules the roost here.  Just from this cursory look, Din can tell that you personally picked every piece of furniture, décor and small touch in your apartment; everything has a clean, calm aesthetic, and yet, is brimming with a welcoming energy.  From the overflowing bookshelf, to the cozy blanket thrown over the arm chair, to the vases of fresh flowers, it’s all so you.  It doesn’t surprise him that you have a keen eye for decoration and aesthetics; to him, everything you touch is made better.  You watch Din’s eyes sweep over your home; you’re immensely proud of this space and the home you’ve made for yourself and Al, and it brings you joy to share your happy place, your safe space with those you care about.  Looking at this hulk of a man standing in your front entrance, you feel a warmth in your heart at how much he already looks like he belongs here; and you’re suddenly very aware of how much space there is between the two of you.  Din catches your eye and taking in your pensive look, gives you a little smirk with a tilt of his head, “Don’t go shy on me now, sweetheart.”

Crossing the room with embarrassing speed, you nearly leap into his waiting arms; Din catches you with ease and cups his hands under your ass, lifting you so you can cross your legs behind his back and resume kissing him eagerly.  God he is so big, and so… strong, you internally swoon as he easily walks the both of you over to the couch.  He sits himself down gently, and you unwrap your legs so you’re now straddling Din’s lap, staying on your knees so that you have a height advantage for once.  Threading your fingers through his hair, you can feel the tension that has been building up since your first coffeeshop meeting ready to snap; peppering Din’s jaw with light kisses, you hum in his ear, “Want you to ruin me, Din.”

With a growl, Din helps you pull your sweatshirt over your head, “Let’s get you out of these clothes, pretty bird.”  Leaning back to admire you in your lace bra, sitting so pretty on top of him, he murmurs, “Even better than my dreams.”

“You dream about me, Djarin?”

Din starts to kiss down the column of your neck, making his way to your chest, “Every night, pretty bird.”

You sigh as he reaches the top of your breasts, his hands cupping them from underneath to push the supple flesh up into his mouth.  As Din devours everywhere you’re exposed with an open mouth, his hands greedily grope your tits, and you throw you head back in pleasure unable to hold back your moans, “Oh, oh, Din.  Din.  That feels so good. Right there, baby.”

Hands moving to roll your nipples between his fingers over the lace fabric, Din murmurs between mouthfuls, “Right here, sweetheart?  You like it when I touch you through this pretty lace?  Don’t think I didn’t recognize this bra, baby girl.  This little triangle right here,” he bites down on the left cup of your bra where the lace fabric meets the strap and tugs with his teeth so that your strap slides down your shoulder and the lace cup falls away from your chest, “has been torturing me for the last month.”  Just like the night he saw his first peek of this lingerie set, Din is finding its teasing effect on him to be irresistible as he moves his mouth to cover what the fallen lace reveals.

With Din’s face fully buried in your chest, you run your fingers through his hair and hold him close while arching your self into him, needing to get impossibly close to this man; his mouth is setting you on fire and his hands are roaming over your body, caressing and electrifying you with every touch.  And yet, you need more.  More of his tongue, his hands, his words, more, more, more.

Din momentarily pulls you out of your daze, “You wear this just for me, pretty bird?”

You look down at Din and see he already looks as desperate as you feel.  You nod and add hesitantly, “Just for you… daddy,” deciding in the moment to try out the petname.  It’s not something you’ve used a lot with past partners, but for some reason, maybe it’s his size, his protective nature, or just the way you want to give yourself over to Din to let him handle you, the moniker fits; even when you would touch yourself to the thought of him, you would always come to the thought of daddy.

Din grins as he takes your now wet nipple back into his mouth, “Is that what you did, baby?  Wrap yourself up like a present for daddy?”

“Mmmhhh god yes,” you whimper; hearing him call himself daddy and pick up on the way you like dirty talk is causing a fresh wave of arousal to seep out of you, “Do you want to unwrap me, Din?”

Before Din even starts to nod, you climb off of his lap and stand right between his spread legs, shimmying down your pants to reveal the matching black panties. 

Din thinks he might pass out.  He has no idea what he’s done to deserve you serving yourself up to him like a perfectly wrapped gift; the coy and almost shy look you’re giving him right now as he takes in your pretty form is tapping into something wild and feral inside of him.  Reaching for you, he hooks two fingers into the band of your underwear as soon as you’re close enough and yanks you into him.  You laugh as you fall onto Din, his strong arms catching and pulling you on top of him so his lips can return to your chest again.  Your laughter quickly turns into needy whimpers as Din mouths and paws at you and you hear his filthy words vibrating against your skin, “Gonna take you apart, pretty girl.  Gonna have you screaming my name when you come on my mouth, my fingers, my cock.  You’re not going to remember your own name, baby – you’ll only know mine.”

You whine as Din growls again, “Mine,” and presses you down to grind on his lap.  You can feel his hardness straining against his pants as you chase after the delicious friction it provides, face warm with embarrassment at the mess your soaked panties must be making of his pants.

“Din, please…”

“What do you need, sweetheart?”

“…more.  I need more, daddy,” you plead.

Din leaves a hand gripping your hip to help you build a grinding rhythm while his other hand moves between your bodies and trails down to your underwear.  Rubbing his fingers over the fabric, he finds you drenched, “So fucking wet, pretty bird.  You soak through these pretty panties just for me?”

By now, you’re panting into Din’s neck, so worked up you think you might scream if he doesn’t touch you soon, “Yes, oh yes, Din… all for you.  Pussy is dripping for you.  Need you to touch me, please, please.”

“So beautiful and sexy, and now polite, too.  Such good manners, saying please so pretty like that.  Don’t worry, baby doll, daddy will give you what you need,” pushing aside the lace to reveal your slick covered cunt, Din slides his fingers through your slit with purposeful strokes; repeatedly dipping his fingers in to explore your hole before spreading your wetness all over, leaving you flushed and squirming in his lap – somehow getting what you wanted has left you even needier than ever.

Gathering what small amount of self agency you have left, you force yourself to shift away from Din’s hand and straighten up to start unbuttoning Din’s shirt; with each undone button, you spread open the fabric and kiss the newly exposed part of his chest, taking in Din’s low moans as you explore his body with your hands and mouth.  When the expanse of his hard chest is before you, you step off of his lap and lean over Din to admire his impressive physique.  He’s unfathomably large, somehow even more so underneath his clothes, a solid wall of muscles no doubt well developed during his days as a boxer; running your hands over his build and trailing light kisses down his chest, you think that perhaps he’s a little softer now (especially around his tummy area), and you much prefer it that way.  In your explorations of Din’s body, you discover several scars of varying size and shapes, no doubt from long by-gone fights.  While you don’t linger, you run your tongue over the smooth, puckered skin, kissing each scar before moving on, as if to make better the injury that has long healed; Din looks down to watch you leave your loving touch on all the parts of his body where violence has marked him and feels his chest tighten at your tenderness.  In this moment he thinks that maybe, maybe, you’re the grace that’s meant to right all his wrong doings; his very own goddamn angel.

By the time you reach the last shirt button, your mouth is watering and you’ve successfully worked yourself up to stratospheric levels, actually feeling your slick dripping down to your inner thighs.  Along with the button, you also undo Din’s belt and pants then slowly sink down to your knees in front of his spread legs, before looking up at him with want.

Holy shit. Din thinks he could come just from the sight of you kneeling before him, lips swollen, lace bra half off with pretty tits on display for him, pupils blown wide with a mix of lust and playfulness.  He lifts himself slightly so you can pull down his boxers and pants, and when his hard cock springs out with a bounce, he sees your eyes widen and you bite your bottom lip while sharply inhaling.  With amusement, he lets you busy yourself with taking off his pants fully and watches as your brow furrows with a tinge of worry.  He wants to soothe away your concern and tell you how bad he wants you in this moment, but the ability to form words seems to have escaped him.

When you come face to face with his impressive length again, you lock eyes with Din before breathing his name, breath fanning his dick and drawing a low groan from his throat; encouraged, you cup his balls with one hand, gently grasp his base with your other, and ready by pointing his tip towards your mouth.

Gingerly kissing the swollen head and kitten licking away the bead of precum seeping out of his slit, you coo, “Daddy it’s too big,” giving him a doe-eyed look of apprehension.  As good as you look and feel, floating your soft breath over his leaking cock, Din’s impatience and hunger override all his other sense and he has to have you now.  Leaning down to kiss you, open mouthed and hungry, he directs you off your knees with his strong arms, murmuring, “Don’t worry, pretty bird.  You can take it; I have to taste you now to make it fit, okay?”  You start to whine in protest, but as Din maneuvers you so that you’ve switched positions, you forget about the injustice of having being denied taking his cock in your mouth when you see Din’s eyes darken at the sticky mess between your legs.  Kissing your inner thighs as he peels off your lace panties, Din chuckles, “Did the idea of sucking daddy’s cock get you all worked up, sweetheart? You’ll have plenty of chances to take me in that sweet mouth of yours.  Not right now though, I need to get you ready for me.  Need to fuck you.” You at moan at his words, then gasp his name when he dives into you without warning like a man starved.

The obscene noises that Din makes as he licks your pussy and slurps your wetness fill the room and accompany the melody of your cries above him.  Grabbing his hair for purchase, your legs shake from pleasure so much that Din hooks an arm under your thigh to open you up even more and uses that hand to press you down so you can’t move.  “Taste so good, so sweet,” Din mutters and the vibrations of his baritone voice course all the way to your chest and you let out a wail, “Daddy, daddy, daddy.. oh fuc-!” Releasing one of your hands from Din’s curls to cover your mouth, Din reaches up with breathtaking speed and pulls your hand down.  With his mouth still pressed against your folds and nose nudging your clit, he purrs, “Want to hear you, baby.  Wanna hear what I do to you.”  Again, his words reverberate through you and electrify every pleasure point in your body so that you have no choice but to mindlessly grope your breasts and arch you back; if he wants to hear you, he’ll hear you:

“Fuck, daddy, that feels so good. Love your mouth on me.”

“Don’t stop, Din.  Need you, been waiting for you to tear me apart for so long.”

“Din. Din. Din… please, fuck, you’re so good at this… so good to me.”

“Please, oh god, please.  Daddy, I want to come all over your face, please daddy, daddy please let me come. Ahhhhhhh…”

Spurned on by your praise, Din bares down on you to lick one last hard stripe against your seam before taking your clit in his mouth and sucking.  Not giving you anytime to recover from the change in pressure, he presses in a thick finger all the way into your cunt, before quickly adding a second.  It’s too much, too much, you practically sob, as Din stretches you out and pushes you closer and closer to the brink.  “Baby, you can take it, gotta stretch this pussy out so my cock can wreck it,” he growls as his fingers pump into you with a quickening pace.  Your heartbeat starts to race as you feel your orgasm building in your lower belly; you’re writhing in Din’s hold, chanting non-stop incoherent ramblings of pleasure when he adds a third finger without warning – the added pressure brings a bite of pain that hurtles you over the edge, coming with a scream of Din’s name.

Din slows down his fingers, but keeps in all three, continuing to finger fuck you and lap at your sensitive clit until your whole body stops buzzing.

“Daddy…” you sigh, opening your eyes as Din rises, mouth and chin still shiny with your slick, and closes in for a kiss.  Cupping his face to help wipe away the evidence of your arousal, you sigh into his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue as a fresh wave of warmth washes over you.  Still pliant and fuzzy from your orgasm, you let Din lay you down on the couch before he straightens himself up to remove his shirt and jacket; after folding them over neatly at the other end of the couch, Din turns back and braces his arm on the back of the couch to tower his naked form over you.  Fuck.  He belongs in a museum.  Mouth agape at the breathtaking sight above you, your legs part of their own accord, beckoning him. 

Planting himself between your open legs, Din pulls the cups of your lacy bra down with his fingers and your breasts fall into his hands; leaning in close, he whispers, “Wanna see these gorgeous tits bounce when I fuck you, pretty bird,” and as if on autopilot, you prop yourself up on your elbows, giving Din access to the clasp.  After sliding your bra down your arms and tossing it away, Din marvels at your naked body before him; he needs to fuck you like he needs air.  In a moment of miraculous clarity, he whispers, “Baby, do you have a condom?”

Suddenly shy, despite the ache of your cunt, you let Din know, “I’m clean… if you want, Din, you can fuck me bare?”

“Shit, pretty bird.  I’m clean, too. You sure?”

“Wanna feel you, daddy.”

“I swear you’ll be the death of me, baby,” he reveres, leaning down to capture your mouth in a breathtaking kiss. 

“Din,” you whimper, “please… need you… please, fuck me.”

“I’m here, I’m here… such a needy slut.”

You gasp, and for a second, Din wonders if maybe he’s taken the dirty talk too far; leaning away to check on you, he’s pulled back in when you throw an arm around his neck and crush your lips to his, kissing him with explosive want. “Your needy slut,” you murmur against his mouth, his filthy words having you clenching and feeling much too empty, “come claim your pussy.  It’s all yours, daddy.”

“Fuck,” grits Din, “the mouth on you, baby,” as he pulls back to line himself up with your entrance; he notches your opening and pauses for a moment, “Ready, pretty bird?” You appreciate this moment of tenderness, because you’re sure it’s coming right before Din absolutely wrecks you; you positively beam, “Give it to me, daddy.”

Din smirks at your enthusiasm and watches as your confident expression changes to one of being shell-shocked as he pushes in slowly; inch by inch, Din presses into you as you spread your legs further, one leg dropping off the couch and back arching to accommodate him, “Fuck, Din.  So… big,” you whine, hands gripping his shoulders, fingernails marking him to distract from the stretch.

“You’re taking me so well, baby girl,” Din coos, leaning in and wrapping his arms around you in encouragement, kissing your neck and nipping at your earlobes as he continues to sheath himself deep within you.  Finally, finally he bottoms out; you’re so, so full and you think you may have to relearn how to breathe.

Din rests his forehead against yours, panting and holding himself back until you let him know you’re ready;  he’d wager this is no less than a Herculean feat, with your tight warm cunt practically choking him, it’s a wonder to him he hasn’t come already.  Peppering your throat with light kisses and he croaks out words of praise in a husky, strained voice right into your ear, “Look at my good girl, taking me so deep,” “Feel so good and tight on my dick. So, so perfect for me,” “Never want to leave this cunt.  Could stay buried here forever.”

Your breathing, though shallow, finally steadies, “Din?”

“Yes, pretty bird,” he practically chokes.

“Please move,” you plead, “… and Din?”

He looks at your blissed out face as he pulls away from your neck, “Yes?”

“Don’t hold back, baby,” your smile playful.

Din returns your grin, “Any thing my pretty little slut wants,” and he pulls back nearly all the way, before pushing back in with restrained force.  He fucks into you with a few long, gentle strokes, waiting to make sure your moans are ones of pleasure before he lets go and slams into you, burying into you to the hilt before pulling back and driving into you over and over.  You feel the air punch out of your lungs with each of Din’s powerful thrusts; your combined cries and grunts of ecstasy mix with the sounds of skin slapping, filling the room and has your eyes rolling to the back of your head.  You grab at Din’s arms and babble nonsensically, “Din, Din.. Imma… feels so good… baby, baby, please… fuck, fuck...”

The build up to this, to tonight really, has been too much and Din know he won’t last.  Mesmerized by the vision of you writhing beneath him, your gorgeous tits bouncing as you cry out, he vows to make you come one more time before he explodes.  The hand not gripping your hip reaches up to palm both of your breasts and pull at your peaks; Din stutters when you clench down and cry out a symphony of his name in repetition.  As you’re quaking at the pleasurable sting still vibrating in your nipples, Din snakes a hand down to where you’re joined together and starts rubbing circles on your clit with his thumb.  A fresh wave of slick coats his pistoning cock as you mewl beneath him at the added sensation; you’re fucked dumb and hardly able to think let along string together the words to let Din know how close you are.

“I’m close, baby.  You feel… too good… can’t last.  Need you to come one more time for me.  Can you do that for me? Can you… be my good girl?”  Din grunts hotly in your ear, each question punctuated by a hard thrust.

“Yes, daddy, daddy… fuck oh, yes… can… be… good… Oh, Din, Din, don’t stop, don’t stop, Din, DIN! Nghhhhhhhh!”

“That’s it.  Give it to me, let go, baby. Give daddy one more,” Din is barely able to keep up a steady pace as he presses down on your swollen nub.

Crying out, you shudder and shake as Din pulls another orgasm from you; eyes unfocused and mouth open in a soundless scream, you tense around Din’s length so tightly that his own fall isn’t far behind.  As your breathing starts to even, Din pulls out and strokes himself furiously with his fist before shooting rope after rope of cum over your stomach as you watch, awestruck.  So much.  Pulling you up and into his lap with a strong hand to your back, Din kisses you tenderly as you come down from what has probably been the best fuck of your life.

Settled contently in the afterglow, you run your fingers gently up and down Din’s warm back as he continues to kiss you softly; stroking your hair lovingly, he whispers, “Sorry, pretty bird.  Didn’t have time to ask you where you wanted me to come.”

Gosh, you adore him.  Giggling, you kiss that sweet mouth of his, “It’s okay, baby.  I like that you marked me.  I told you, I’m yours.”

“Mine,” Din murmurs between gentle pecks to your lips, cradling your head gently while holding you close with his other arm, “Was that okay, sweetheart?”

You tuck yourself into your favourite nook under his chin and nod into his neck, “Perfect, Din. Knew you would be.”

“You’re my dream girl, pretty bird.”

You close your eyes and sigh happily, fucked out and pulled apart.

“Want to get cleaned up a bit?” Din suggests after a while.

When you nod into his neck, Din stands, still holding you close; softening against you, he effortlessly carries you in the direction of the bathroom that you point him in.  After setting you down softly on your feet, Din helps steady you as you reach for tissues and a hand towel and patiently waits for the water to warm before he gently cleans off his spend from your stomach and his own.  Giving you a little privacy to finish up, Din exits the bathroom first; when you come out, you see he’s gathered both of your clothes from the various places in the living room they were discarded, and is holding them with both hands in a neat pile in front of his nakedness like a sitcom character caught in a compromising position.   Cheekily letting out a low wolf whistle, tell Din how cute he is, then hold your hand out for his which he manages to take without dropping the clothes.

Leading him by the hand to your bedroom, you wordlessly take the clothes from him and put them on top of your hamper before throwing your arms around Din’s neck and kissing him with abandon.  The depth of your passionate for this man, and your gratefulness for intimacy that now exists between the two of you is overflowing.  You want him to know how good he made you feel, that he’s left you changed, filled with a need that you don’t think anyone other than him will ever be able to fill. 

“Do you want to stay over, Din?” you whisper into his lips; as amazing as this night has been so far, it somehow feels like not enough and you don’t want it to end just yet.

Din’s response is to pick you up and throw you, shrieking with laughter, onto your bed and dive bomb after you; giving you just enough time to roll away at the last minute so he doesn’t smoosh you.  Throwing his long arm over your middle, he rolls you back into him before pressing his mouth against yours, “I would love to stay over, pretty bird.  You think Al would be good with me joining you on mornings walks too?” 

Nodding, you smile and card your hands through Din’s curls, still slightly damp from your escapades in the living room, and pull him impossibly closer so there’s more of you touching than not.  The two of you stay like this for who knows how long; naked bodies entangled, strong arms encircling, never-ending soft touches from lips, fingers, hands, lazily mapping each other’s bodies.  Floating over the gentle grazes are whispered pleas for forgiveness once again, reminders that forgiveness was already granted, renewed vows of devotion, and declarations of adoration.  Every caress a promise for the future and an expression of your quiet joy.

With one hand running long, lazy strokes over your back like steady current and the other gently cradling your head, Din’s tongue parts your lips, “Can I have you again, sweetheart?”

Pulling back and looking at Din directly in the eyes, you find a sweet longing that makes more than your heart ache, so you nod while exhaling a satisfied breath.

“Wanna take it slow this time, okay pretty bird?”

Giving a low chuckle, “You always want to take things slow,” you grin, before kissing him earnestly, “I’m yours, Din, however you want me.”

Despite having just told you his intention to go slowly, your words have Din hardening fast as he licks into your mouth and deepens his kisses.

But he’s committed to taking his time and does indeed go slow. 

Slowly, he makes his way down your body, memorizing every curve of your neck and your breasts, every dip and valley of your hips and stomach with his mouth and hands.  Taking a pause at every soft peak of your body to impart loving caresses and murmur sweet words of praise and praising words of filth about what you do to him and what he wants to do to you.

Slowly, you fall apart when his tongue laps at you with the intent to explore and claim, gradually building you up with each lick.  With the patience of a saint, he repeatedly guides your thighs to stay open with firm, but gentle massages from his hands while he lazily sucks on your clit and you cry out long, drawn out whines above him.  He reveres each and every line and crest of your folds with his mouth, as you chant his name and grab at his curls to press him deeper into you for more, more.  Nothing can hurry him – not your soft cries of pleasure, not the strained hard on he ruts into your mattress, nor your dripping arousal running down your centre and soaking your sheets – he deliberately applies the sweet pressure you need to send you tumbling into oblivion when he’s good and ready, then draws out your pleasure even longer by continuing to devour you through your high.

He has to force himself to breathe slowly when you take him in your mouth, and following his cue, set a sweet and slow pace, licking and stroking his shaft lazily before swallowing him deep and working his length in an unhurried, steady rhythm.  Your small, soft hands cup him from below, and your fingers ghost a tickling trail over his balls, humming appreciatively to the sounds of Din’s haggard breathing and the small gasps that escape his throat.  He gently runs his fingers through your hair, brushing loose strands off your face as you suck his shaft and wrap your tongue around his swollen head; massaging your scalp soothingly as you take your time pulling all of him down your tight throat.  It’s almost unfair to call this a blow job when it’s really more of an appreciation of his glorious cock conducted at your leisure, the pleasure you’re receiving equaling Din’s.

Not without regret, Din coaxes you off of him, promising you he’ll come in your mouth another time as he lovingly kisses your messy mouth.  Even his vow of taking it slow has limits, and he openly admits he’s ready to concede, “Need to be inside of you, pretty bird.”

Din’s mouth never leaves yours as he lines himself up between your legs and almost agonizingly slowly, pushes in.  You’re so wet and open that he meets little resistance, but with his unrushed pace, you feel every ridge as he fills you.  There’s none of the urgency and impatience of your earlier dalliance; Din sets a relaxed pace, and braces his forearms on either side of your head, hands tenderly stroking your hair and face as he kisses you over and over.  As he thrusts in and out of you with long, deliberate strokes, Din drinks in your whimpers and soft cries of heady bliss, coming up only for air to whisper sweet praise in your ear about how good you feel around him, how beautiful you are, how perfect you are, made for him.  You don’t hold back any of your own ramblings, murmuring back how incredible he feels inside you, how well he fills you, how happy he makes you, how you want the weight of him on you at all times.  You feel so full, so beautiful, so safe and free, and so loved.  Din had promised to take you apart and put you back together when he finally took you to bed, and you had assumed he meant physically, but you’re sure now that he’s reshaped your heart as well.  With the way he’s looking at you while he fucks you deep and slow, adoring you, you can’t help as your eyes water slightly and tears escape from the corner of your eyes.  “I know, baby, I know,” whispers Din as he soothes away your tears.  Eventually, both your breathing turns shallow, your kisses sloppier, and your moans indecent.  With broken words, you gasp, “I’m so close.  Oh, god, Din.  Please.  Inside.  Please, Din, come inside me.  It’s safe, I-” and before you can finish your sentence, he kisses you to convey his trust, and reaches down to draw figure eights on your clit as he suddenly picks up the pace, giving himself the permission to release what he’s been holding back.  The sudden change in speed coupled with the delicious strokes from Din’s thumb has you coming for your personal record breaking fourth time tonight, clenching down so hard on Din that he fists the sheets next to your head tight enough to turn his knuckles white.  Somehow mustering enough focus to slam into you even harder for three, four, five more strokes, Din comes mightily with a low, prolonged grunt, collapsing on top of you while panting into your neck.

A minute passes and Din rolls off of you and pulls you close; as he slips out of you, you whine a little from the loss and look at him almost shy, to which he kisses your forehead tenderly.  No words needed, he gets up, walks around to your side of the bed to lift you bridal style, keeping your legs closed to minimize the mess on your bed sheets before carrying you to your bedroom ensuite.  After cleaning up, you put on a fresh pair of underwear and a silky camisole for sleep while Din dons his boxers before the two of you slip comfortably under the covers, grinning like tired idiots the whole time.

Pressing you to his chest, Din nuzzles the back of your neck and peppers the nape with light kisses, “Remember when I told you I didn’t plan on getting much sleep around you, pretty bird?”

You hum in assent, remember his teasing from your second date.

“If you keep wearing things like this to bed,” his big hand moves to brush deliberately over your nipples and then trail down your side to lightly spank your ass, “then I’m going to have to start calling in to work.”

You giggle and buck back into him, teasingly, “It’s okay, you’re the boss.”

“Nah, you’re the boss, pretty bird.  From this night on, I’m at your beck and call.  Fall to my knees and worship you, servant to your every whim, ready to topple kingdoms should that be your wish,” you can feel his goofy, lopsided smile against your ear.

“A boxer and a poet?  A lover and a fighter? Who knew you contained such multitudes, Djarin,” you quip, but secretly melting at his romantic words.

“Such a perfect night, baby.  You’re so perfect.”  He kisses your shoulder, then nips it lightly with his teeth for good measure, causing you to yelp in surprise.

Turning over, you snuggle in under his chin, “You were pretty good tonight too, old man.”

“Just want to be good for you, pretty bird.  Want to always make you feel good.”

“You do, Din.  You make me feel so cherished, and wanted, and sexy, and safe.  Really,” and you pull back to look him deep in his eyes, “I meant everything I said tonight, baby.  It’s okay to share your world with me; I won’t judge.  Please don’t ever feel like there’s no place for me by your side; it’s where I want to be.”

“It’s where you belong,” he counters, sealing this declaration with a sweet kiss.

Turning back over, you hold on to Din’s forearms and nest back into his protective embrace; smiling to yourself as the sounds of Din’s gentle breathing lull you into a peaceful sleep.

#din djarin #din djarin fic #din djarin fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x you #modern au #no y/n #modern!din djarin #din djarin smut #din djarin fluff

[rollinouttahere-writes]

God AU Info Sheet

Luffy is the god of freedom. He’s also one of the youngest gods and was not initially taken all that seriously. But, after he knocked thunder god Enel into orbit, they all kinda panicked and realized that oh no this guy is the real deal. Gods are not supposed to meddle in human affairs much outside of keeping them in line, but Luffy does not care about all that. He’s the god of freedom, you think he’s going to listen to some stupid rules? Ha! No. 

He is by far the easiest god to summon when you need help. You could leave a half eaten sandwich on an altar and he’ll be there loudly chewing on it before you’ve even finished the prayer. He’ll just be staring at you expectantly while you finish your tale of woe and when you’re done he’s just like ‘wow that guy sounds like he sucks, where’s he at?’. All he asks for in exchange is a feast afterwards. There’s also a chance that he might show up on his own anyways just because he wanted to rock some facist’s shit. Luffy is beloved by the people but loathed by the gods.

Zoro is the god of battle. He isn’t a particularly bloodthirsty god, he cares more about the skill and honor of a good duel. While he isn’t as young as Luffy, he still isn’t considered an old god. Like Luffy, he has a tendency to get involved in human issues due to him wandering the earth in search of a good fight (and also alcohol).

On the polar opposite side of the spectrum from Luffy in terms of how easy he is to summon. You could leave the best sake at an altar and make your case, but on the off chance he shows up it’s entirely a coincidence. He’s the god of battle not directions, okay? It’s gotten better now that Luffy is dragging him around. He’s somewhat respected by humans, but there’s a lot of irritation from his inability to answer prayers. Gods are mostly neutral towards him.

Nami has taken over as the weather goddess since Luffy evicted Enel. She is harsh but fair. While she does expect some hefty offering for being such an amazing goddess, she won’t punish people for not making offerings if they had a legitimate reason for not doing so (like being ravaged by a plague or something). However, if they don’t appreciate her kindness and fail to make offerings after they’ve gotten back on their feet… May the other gods have mercy on them because she certainly won’t.

She listens to every prayer she receives. You won’t see her, but she is there in spirit and is listening closely to what they have to say. Whether or not she’ll help depends on the severity of the circumstances as well as the offering that came with the prayer. Giving good weather is easy enough, but if they want her to fight someone she’ll just point Luffy in their direction. She can fight, but prefers not to. Relatively well liked by gods.

Usopp is the god of mighty strength! Of incomprehensible intelligence! Of sniping! Of- Okay not really. He’s just some guy with incredible charisma and luck that managed to convince people that he’s a god when he isn’t. Despite this, he has some enviable connections. Franky is his main guy after Usopp bragged that they were thick as thieves and Franky decided to just go along with it because he found the whole thing hilarious. Franky helps back him up with his tall tales, but he doesn’t carry him completely. He also earned Luffy and co’s approval after trying to save his home village all on his own.

Usopp doesn’t answer prayers unless he just so happens to be in the area and hears it with his own ears. Obviously due to him being human, he can’t hear the prayers the way a god can. Sometimes he swears he hears echoes of prayers, but literally no one believes him. He is telling the truth though! Unbeknownst to him, his father is actually a god so he’s a demigod, making him able to occasionally subconsciously tap into godly abilities. He just hasn’t figured it out yet. Gods leave him alone for the most part because of his dad.

Sanji is the god of harvest. This guy is very much known for being a pushover. He doesn’t want anyone to starve and that manifests in him bending over backwards to try and keep harvests good every year regardless of how difficult it may be. Due to him being such a pushover, he isn’t that well respected because a lot of people take him for granted. For the most part, only people in agriculture take him seriously.

Since he already does his job regardless of offerings, most people don’t bother giving him any. If they want something extra though, he can be persuaded, but only if the one making the offering is a woman or child. He’ll straight up tune out men. Gods look down on him for being so lenient with humans.

Chopper is the god of medicine… In training. Kureha is currently training him to be a potential successor (not that she’s going to be kicking the bucket any time soon but still). He’s the youngest, and was originally just seen as a monster before he was taken in. Chopper is extremely diligent in his studies and cares a lot about helping people, even if they’re unfriendly towards him.

Due to his status of not being a full on god yet, people aren’t making offerings or praying to him. Kureha answers prayers thoroughly and brings Chopper with her every time, so he is getting a feel for how it works. When he has free time, he’ll lurk around medical/health shrines to try and get to the people praying first on his own so he can get more experience. Gods don’t like him because they see him as nothing more than an animal, regardless of how much work he’s done.

Robin is the goddess of knowledge. The people that respect her are few and far between, and that includes the gods. Humans don’t pay her much mind because they can just learn things for themselves, why should they make offerings to her? Plus there’s the fear that she knows too much about dangerous things, this sentiment is shared by the other gods. She knows all languages and has a perfect memory.

On the extremely off chance that she actually receives an offering or prayer, you best believe she’s answering it. Even if it’s something outside of her jurisdiction, she’ll find a way to make it work. While most gods dislike her or even wish her dead, she has found great friends with Luffy and his entourage. 

Franky is the god of innovation. There’s never a dull moment for him with all the crazy inventions he throws together like it’s the easiest thing in the world. It’s 50/50 if the invention is going to be legitimately useful or if it’s going to be some crazy nonsense he made just because he could. He’s an extremely good natured guy but he does have his limits, with his biggest pet peeves being intentionally shitty craftsmanship and people who get in the way of innovation. After overhearing Usopp name drop him like their besties, he decided to listen in on him more and found himself appreciating the level of audacity it takes to pull off what he has. That combined with Usopp’s skills for inventing led to Franky taking him under his wing. 

While his actions are very appreciated, his eccentric personality and appearance can be more than a little off putting for humans. He gets offerings and prayers regularly, but only from select people that admire him. Franky loves a challenge and to keep busy so he almost always responds if he isn’t already working on something. On a related note, if he catches someone defacing/disrespecting one of Robin’s shrines, he’s throwing hands. And bombs. Gods find him a little obnoxious but don’t hate him or anything.

Brook is the god of performances. Music is his specialty but he enjoys a good theatrical performance as well. He is an ancient god, from back in the days when they almost never interacted with humans. Gods aren’t even all that friendly towards each other, so this was a very lonely time for him. All he would do was perfect his skills in isolation because that’s what everyone else did. Seeing all these younger gods being so in touch with humanity truly inspired him and now it’s rare to not see him in the company of humans.

People who don’t respect the arts typically don’t make offerings, but those who do make offerings and prayers around the clock so they can be blessed with even a fraction of his skills. Brook loves to spread his talents far and wide, so he always makes an appearance now. He doesn’t magically bestow anything on them, they just more or less have a jam session where he gives them some pointers. He was well respected amongst gods because he was once seen as one of the greats, but now they look down on him for spending so much time with humans.

Jinbei is the god of the sea. Like Brook, he’s also one of the ancients. Being around for as long as he has has made him weary, but Luffy is making him find joy in life again. Jinbei is very respected by humans, but it’s more out of fear than anything. The sea is a fierce and often unforgiving entity, and Jinbei can only do so much to control something as massive as an ocean. The fearful responses he receives from people definitely gets to him, but he doesn’t really know how to fix it.

People give him offerings constantly to try and keep the ocean tame, but outside of taking control of a small area for a limited amount of time he can’t do that much about it. Tsunamis are outside of his realm of control, and so are sea kings and other sea life. While he does listen to the prayers, they can blend together thanks to the sheer quantity of them. He feels guilty for not being able to do more, so he doesn’t lash out if people don’t make offerings. However due to the nature of the ocean, it can seem like he does. The gods respect him a lot, but are more than a little nervous to see him hanging around Luffy all of a sudden.

#one piece #monkey d luffy #zoro roronoa #sanji #black leg sanji #luffy #nami #cat burglar nami #one piece nami #usopp #tony tony chopper #nico robin #franky the cyborg #cyborg franky #brook #soul king brook #jinbei #god au

[foli-vora]

run to you: chapter five

marcus pike x f!reader

A/N: life is hectic atm but i'm so glad to finally get this out! i swear i'm gonna get around to replying to all of your lovely comments on chapter four. i really appreciate your love and support for this story and i'm forever thanking you, even if i don't get around to replying as quick as i want! so not a lot of marcus and reader in this chapter, like... at all lmao, but the storyline is now picking up and we can fasten our seatbelts for the turbulent ride ahead. enjoy, angels! x

Summary: Following on from ‘Traitor’ and 'You’re Somebody Else’. An unexpected visitor throws you right back into the life you thought you left behind. Working beside the man that put you behind bars is one thing, pretending like you never loved him is another.

Word count: just over 4.5k

Warnings: angst, swearing, the bestest golden retriever himbo bff, talk of crime and undercover operations, mentions of heartache, mentions of jail/being incarcerated, talk of murder/bodies, smutty flashback (18+ only), Patrick Jane, super brief blink-and-you-miss-it Lisbon appearance (poor marcus bb is not doing good rn lmao SUFFER BITCH), and the usual warning: bitter saltiness that only one man brings to life in us

main masterlist | series masterlist

This story will have explicit sexual scenes in the future so 18+ only.

He’s hovering.

At first, it’s almost easy to ignore—you think he’s just watching you paint with a small sense of curiosity and would move away once boredom finds him, but you’ve never been one for people looming over your shoulder for an extended period of time, and so the irritation quickly starts to seep in.

The hand holding the paintbrush drops, and you look expectantly at him while knocking your headphones off of one ear, “Can I help you, agent?”

Jacob leans on the table next to you and tears into the homemade sub in his hands, chewing loudly as a small smearing of mayonnaise gathers at the corner of his lips.

He gives a nod, mumbling around the mouthful of food, “Just makin’ sure you eat.”

You blink in surprise, glancing at the window, “It’s lunchtime already?”

“A bit past,” Jacob replies, moving away now that he has your attention and sits himself on a chair at the table, “but I didn’t want to let you go late without eating. Gotta keep up your energy, Monet—don’t want you running yourself into the ground.”

“Thanks,” you murmur softly, organising your little workstation and rolling your aching shoulders.

The break is surprisingly welcome. You didn’t even realise how long you’d been lost in your work until you stopped, and now the throb in your fingers is all you can focus on. You clench and unclench your hand as you walk to your bag and ready some lunch, careful of the hot food you retrieve from the microwave.

Jacob doesn’t look at you as you seat yourself opposite him, too engrossed in studying the painting hanging on the easel.

“You’re good at this,” Jacob notes, eyeing the almost completed piece waiting to be taken wherever by Marcus’ team, “how’d you get into this stuff? Art school?”

Appetite now gone, you shift in your seat, suddenly far too interested in pushing the rice into small mountains in your glass dish.

Breathe.

He doesn’t know.

“I uh… I actually did it for a living.”

“Oh? Nice.”

There’s no malice in his tone, no mistrust, just pure interest.

He doesn’t glare at you, or pull a face of suspicion. It doesn’t even occur to him that it may have all been under the table and illegal. You feel a little guilty, almost as if you’d been leading him to believe you weren’t a previously convicted criminal. It makes you want to own it, to just speak your truth and let him make his own judgement of your actions.

Maybe it would be best to do so, so he would know where he stands and how he should view you. You’re not a good person, and maybe he deserves to know that. He does deserve to know that. 

“It was… it wasn’t legal. That’s how I got caught up in Marcus’ radar,” you admit quietly, briefly letting your eyes meet his and watching the flicker of surprise flash across his features before dropping your gaze again, afraid to watch his warmth and friendliness disappear. 

“Oh.” 

Nothing is said for a few minutes.

You swear you can feel the seconds trickling by, your nerves picking up and heightening with every silent tick. The small bit of the lunch you’d packed last night and eaten starts to churn uncomfortably in your stomach, swirling with your growing anxiety and threatening to bubble up your throat.

You can’t look at him.

“How’d you get caught?”

“It was a whole thing. Apparently the FBI had been after them—us—for a while… I knew it was big, I wasn’t stupid, but I guess I just tried to ignore the other side of it all. The money was good, and it felt nice. Marcus went undercover—guess they wanted someone on the inside, and I just happened to fall in the trap.”

And fall into the trap you did. You fell good. One look into those warm brown eyes and your walls had crumbled. You still don’t understand how it all happened. If only you could go back and scream at your more naive self, tell her to just walk away and never look back.

God, had you truly been that lonely? To open up so quickly, so easily, with a complete stranger? Would things have played out differently if you had just been stronger and ignored the obvious attraction and turned a cheek to his advances? Would he have just moved on to somebody else for the sake of the case?

It makes you angry, and you don’t have a clue as to why. Maybe it’s because somewhere deep within you, beneath the bitterness and the hurt, you wanted to believe he actually did want you, and not just use you as a means to finish the investigation. You wanted to believe that a part of it, even just a slither of it, was real.

Stupid.

Of course it wasn’t real. None of it was.

Jacob nods in understanding, “So that’s why you hate Pike?”

Hate?

Is that what you feel for him?

The angry side of you says yes. Yes, you hate him and everything he fucking stands for, and that you’d feel this way forever… but it doesn’t sit right, feel right. Maybe you don’t. Maybe hate isn’t what it is. Resentment? Disappointment, perhaps? 

“I don’t hate him,” you sigh quietly, giving up on lunch and pushing it away from you, “not… not really. I mean, I did. For months I wished all sorts of horrible shit to happen to him, but I… I don’t know. I guess I just accepted it for what it was after a while. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t like him—at all—but I just want to forget it all happened and move on. I want my fresh start, you know? It’s hard seeing him, being around him again, after all the heartbreak.”

“Wait,” Jacob frowns, holding a hand out to stop you from speaking any more, “when you say you ‘fell into the trap’, does that… were you guys a thing? While he was undercover? Was it serious?”

“It was to me,” you admit with a murmur, “even had me picking out a damn wedding dress.”

The laugh that you force from your lips is strained and void of any true humour.

If anything, it’s an attempt to steer the direction of the conversation from diving any deeper into the overwhelming feelings you had for a man that had never existed. It’s humiliating to even think about. Maybe if you laugh about it, the sting of it all won’t hurt as much.

“Oh well,” you breathe, straightening in your seat and twisting your lips to resemble a faint smile, “it’s all in the past. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

Jacob watches you play with your food with a look you can’t quite identify. You don’t want to risk looking at him too much, afraid that he’ll see the clear pain swirling in your eyes. The damage has probably already been done. He’s seen it all, and probably more. He’s a Federal Agent—their job relies on reading people on a daily basis. 

“Hey,” he mutters, giving you a small comforting smile when you eventually pull your gaze away from the table to look at him, “for what it's worth, I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how you must’ve felt. It must’ve been really tough, and I’m sorry you had to go through that alone.”

Your features twist into a frown, “Who said I was alone through it?”

He watches you knowingly for a moment, his brows raising ever so slightly as his small smile turns a little sadder, sympathetic. He’s right, and he knows it. You had been alone. It’d been the most alone you’d ever felt, and you’ll spend the rest of your life hoping to never feel that way again. 

Swallowing the growing lump in your throat, you give a small shrug and drop your fork with a quiet clatter, “I deserved it.”

“No, you didn’t. Yeah, you’ve made some pretty shit decisions in the past—I’m not debating that, but I like to think of myself as a good judge of character. You’re not a bad person, not like the ones we’re used to.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yeah, I do.”

There’s nothing but sincerity in his tone. You watch him for a few minutes, eyes darting between his bright green ones and searching for anything that gives you a small feeling of doubt that his words are nothing but a lie.

You find nothing.

A true smile starts to grow along your lips and you dip your head, unable to keep meeting his genuine gaze without feeling the sting of tears in your eyes.

 “Thank you, Jacob. I appreciate that.”

“You’re welcome, Kahlo.”

It’s quiet, and you feel like you can bear the sight of food again.

Your shoulders feel lighter, the ache in your chest has dissipated. It’s freeing. You hadn’t yet been able to speak on what had happened without someone focusing on the crime part.

The inmates you had bunked with, the counsellors in jail, the people hiring you once you got out… they all had that pre-judgement of you. The title of criminal followed you throughout every interaction, but not here, not with him.

You pick up your fork and start picking at your food, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips. The slice of Jacob’s sudden huff cuts through the air, and he throws his almost eaten sub onto the table before crossing his arms in obvious irritation.

“God, what a fuckin’ dick.”

—

Heat—it’s everywhere.

It sticks to your skin, it swells in the pit of your stomach, it builds and builds over your flesh with every deep roll of his body over yours. It should be too much, too overwhelming, but your nails still dig into the soft skin of his back in a silent cry for more.

Just when you think he can’t possibly get any closer, he does. He pushes—crushes—you into the mattress, hands cradling the back of your head in an effort to keep you as close as possible. So close, so fucking close, you’re practically breathing in the other, with no room left for oxygen between you and it’s absolute bliss.

He’s breathless against the skin of your throat, nothing but soft whimpers and the hush of sharp exhales filling your ears. Lips press wherever they can reach, trailing paths of fire along your cheeks and the length of your neck until you squirm from the sensation, fighting both the urge to hide from his tender touch and stretch out for more. 

“A-Alex,” you breathe, face turning enough to trace the tip of your nose along the shell of his ear.

He exhales sharply, hips faltering ever so slightly. His face briefly falls away from breathing in your skin, dipping his head and hiding his features. Despite the unexpected jolt in his rhythm, he still moves, still rolls his hips in that way he’s fucking mastered, ensuring every upwards roll of his hips has that delicious bit of friction along your clit.

It’s maddening.

It’s perfection.

The ecstasy rolling through your body hits an all time high, and your thighs tighten around his hips, coaxing him to brush harder, push deeper into the wet heat of your pussy until you start to feel that sweet, sweet edge start to creep along the edge of your nerves.

More, more, more—

“Ale–”

He suddenly rears forward, moulding his lips to yours and stealing the very breath from your lungs. It’s always the same. The kiss is urgent, all teeth and tongue and it’s impossible to speak another word. You struggle to keep up with his intensity, too busy focusing on that overwhelming high and the tightening that threatens to give at any second now. 

It’s good—it’s so fucking good, you swear you’re going crazy. He does that to you. Though you can’t say it, breathe it, his name is all you hear in your mind, its own soft echo a consistent companion to the sheer pleasure he drowns you in.

Alex, Alex, Alex.

—

It’s been a month.

A month in your new little workspace, a month of painting, a month of successfully avoiding him. Despite it being his investigation, he now keeps his distance from the makeshift art space he had given you. Maybe he finally got the message that you didn’t want to be around him, that the mere thought of even uttering a single word to him made you feel almost nauseous.

You haven’t seen him in weeks. 

When you finish a piece, he sends his agents. You know a few by name now, but don’t bother with small talk. They come, give you a friendly hello, take the finished, wrapped painting and leave—that’s it.

That’s all it is.

You don’t have to do anything else, and it’s wonderful. You spend your days painting, relishing in the familiar feel of a brush between your fingers and enjoying the legal money deposited into your account every week.

You get ahead with bills. You buy some new clothes. You feel refreshed, finding a certain needed peace from the sudden financial stability. You know it’s not going to last—Jacob doesn’t talk about the case a whole lot, but you know that the team has made some progress with it, so you put a little money aside for the day the FBI no longer needs you.

He becomes a fast friend, and if you were ever to find it within you to thank Marcus for anything in this world, it would be him. You surely would’ve gone batshit insane if you’d been holed up in that room by yourself day in and day out, probably worse if you had been locked up with Marcus every day.

But not Jacob.

Jacob keeps the air light.

He’s kind, funny, and a bit of an idiot, and you find yourself fondly laughing nearly every day at the little things he would do or say. You thoroughly enjoy his company, and love hearing about his time in school, training to be an agent and the few cases he’s worked on so far.

He asks you questions and seems genuinely interested in getting to know you and of you past, never once making you feel lesser than or lowly for your less than ideal life before this. 

“You made a decision, Matisse. Good or bad—own it.”

He keeps to himself whenever you find yourself focused on your work, and only steps in to remind you to take care of yourself. On the odd occasion, he’d join you, content to watch you work with a shine of interest.

You don’t like it, so you shove canvas paper and oil pastels at him to keep him from hovering any longer and it works. It becomes a little activity of sorts, a release for him whenever paperwork starts to push at his patience a little too much. 

“They should’ve hired you for this case,” you mumble teasingly around your lunch, grinning at the pride filling his features as he finishes his latest project—his own creation inspired by the Van Gogh you’re currently working on.

It’s pretty, full of bright colours and soft swirling patterns. The Future, he had called it, and apparently—it was all for you.

You need something colourful, Da Vinci, something happy. You’re too sad. 

The FBI doesn’t deserve him.

“Hey, I’m proud of this,” he retorts sharply, pointing a finger smudged with colour at you but his tone doesn’t match the bright amusement in his eyes, “belongs in a damn museum. It’s an original Wilson—people will flock to see it. You just wait, Michaelangelo, this will bring a lot of money down the track, mark my words.”

Your chuckle is cut off by the insistent buzz in his pocket, and he stands immediately, answering the call with a swift Wilson and stepping away from the table with his phone pressed to his ear.

It’s Marcus... you know just by the way he positions himself, ensuring to keep a bit of distance and turning away so you don't have to potentially hear his voice from the other end. You quickly lose interest in the conversation, focusing back on the open book you’ve been trying—and failing—to get into the last few days.

The interest in the conversation was lost, until you hear it.

“Understood, sir. We’ll leave now.”

Immediately looking up in question, your brows start to furrow as Jacob wraps up the phone call and strides back to the table quietly. Anxiety begins to build in the pit of your stomach at the sudden serious set of his features, unused to seeing the usually bright and bubbly face now so stoic. It’s Agent Wilson, not Jacob. 

“We’re leaving?” you ask in confusion, “but I haven’t even done—”

The frown between his thick brows deepens, and he barely looks at you while he shrugs his navy blue suit jacket on, leaving faint smudges of orange and pink on the lapels.

“Leave it, we need to get to the office.”

The anxiety immediately gives way to dread.

The office? Where Marcus and his team are? Why?

You want to ask if you can stay behind—straight up refuse to go anywhere near that damn building—but the firm set of Jacob’s lips lets you know it’s non-negotiable.

He helps you with your bag, a certain urgency to his movements, and then you’re descending the stairs with him hot on your tail. He ushers you into the car, throwing a wary glance each way down the street before moving around the vehicle and sliding into his seat.

You swear you can feel your heart beating in your throat. He’s clearly in a rush, but you’re at a loss as to why. Has something happened? Is there danger? Are you in danger?

With your mind beginning to hurl possibilities at you, you start to feel more and more nauseous with every swift swerve through traffic Jacob makes.

“Is everything okay?” You ask carefully, fingers fiddling with the straps of your bag as you try to calm the rage of your heart. 

He briefly looks away from the traffic and gives you a small reassuring smile, “Of course. There’s just been a big development and I’m needed back at the office for a debriefing, sorry for the rushing.”

“Oh,” you breathe in relief, “okay, I understand. Well, you can drop me home if that’s easier for you.”

“It’s an urgent thing and uh… Pike would like you at the office.”

Your lips press shut and an immediate frown overcomes your expression.

Of course.

If there had been developments in the case, why did you need to be there? It’s not like you're an agent with unlimited access to the available information. Your own folder Marcus had given you was severely lacking any true details of the case beyond what you needed to know, and it’s not like you were involved in anything anymore, so you had very little to contribute further than your creative talents.

You keep quiet for the rest of the quick trip, taking the hint that now is not the time for small talk. The need to chat is nonexistent to you right now anyway, even if Jacob happened to be in a perkier mood. The mere thought of seeing, and talking to, Marcus again does nothing to ease the dread churning in the pit of your gut. 

The building is not a welcome sight, yet you hurry to follow Jacob from the brightly lit parking lot and into the home of the FBI. He stays beside you the whole way, through the wide crowded corridors and during the silence of the elevator, giving you one final reassuring smile before he pushes open the door to the Art Crime Department.

It’s busy. 

Marcus doesn’t suddenly appear from nowhere and bombard you both at the entrance. You can take a deep breath. The shrill ringing of phones fill the space, and the shuffle of agents near running about with various files and pieces of paper takes you a little off guard.

There’s an uncomfortable tension hanging in the air. You can’t quite put your finger on why it unsettles you so.

You follow Jacob further into the chaos, ensuring to keep out of the way and keeping an eye out for the one man you seem to now be bracing for, steeling your nerves into something harder, something unbreakable. You don’t need to wait long—there he is.

He looks tired.

Marcus appears from a room, presumably his own personal office, raking a hand through his mussed hair and saying a few brief words to a coworker before his eyes zero in on Jacob. He points to the conference room where you’d once sat at the beginning of this, already heading that way with another agent, and Jacob gives a short nod in response.

You try to blend into the background behind Jacob so Marcus doesn’t take much notice of you, but it’s not even a moment later and his eyes are suddenly meeting yours. The feeling of his attention is instant, and the increase of your heart is familiar by now.

Despite the distance between you, you feel how they roam over your face, seemingly searching your expression, but it’s not long until they fall away and you’re left to exhale quietly, now free from his gaze. 

He disappears into the conference room, and you swallow down the thick feeling of anxiety building in the back of your throat. He doesn’t seem eager, or interested, in talking to you straight away, and you’re relieved by that—you could mentally and emotionally prepare yourself a little more.

“My desk is over there if you want to sit down,” Jacob offers, turning and walking backwards in order to point you in the right direction, “and I’ve got snacks in the bottom drawer.”

Rolling your eyes, you give a strained huff of amusement and start walking towards it, “Of course you do.”

Your shoulder catches the frame of someone else and you quickly take a step back, wide eyes locking with a pair of vaguely amused blue ones.

He’s dressed sharply, much different to the basic suits the agents around him wear, in a well kept grey toned three piece suit with the simple white collar of his shirt popped open at the base of his throat. His soft blond curls are styled neatly back, and the gentle scent of tea wafts from the cup in his hold.

He’s pretty, by society’s standards, but his eyes are sharp, as if they can see right into the very centre of you.

You don’t like it.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you mumble, “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

You don’t linger to hear what the agent has to say. You hurry into Jacob’s desk space and throw your bag under it before taking a seat in the simple desk chair, the backrest squeaking as you rest into it.

His desk is as you expected it to look—messy, but organised in his own little chaotic way. The edges of his computer screen are littered with sticky notes of reminders, his ballpoint pens are all missing their lids, he has a bobble head character of a sports player next to his keyboard and a crumpled paper plane lies hidden beneath a thick notebook.

It’s undoubtedly Jacob, end to end.

The wide variety of sweets and chips resting on old files doesn’t surprise you at all when you tug at the stiff drawer, and you immediately zero in on the ones he’s been sharing with you over the past few weeks.

“Jane, stay out of trouble,” a brunette orders sharply as she passes, briefly catching your attention and the man you had previously bumped into comes to a stop just beside you.

“Aye aye, Captain,” he replies dryly with the growings of a smirk, sipping quietly at the tea in his hands and watching the last few agents file into the conference room before the door closes.

Do people still use saucers? He does. He half turns towards you and eyes you curiously as you sway absent-mindedly in Jacob’s desk chair, breaking into the packet of sour candies.

“You’re not an agent.”

You blink up at him and give a small, polite smile, “No, I’m not.”

He makes a low noise of thought to himself and sits on the edge of the desk opposite to Jacob’s, watching you over the rim of the plain white cup he lifts to his lips.

You shift a little under his study, busying yourself with picking a lemon flavoured candy out from the packet and looking over the various little notes decorating the dated computer screen.

Meeting @ 10 Tues. Picasso retrieval daily @ 8. Get bread. Call ma before she has a damn heart attack—

“How long have you been an artist?”

Eyes rolling back to the stranger, you give a slightly confused, “What? How do you know I’m an artist?”

“You have paint on your fingers,” he replies, like it’s the most obvious thing in the room.

Rubbing your fingers together, you feel the tell tale crack of dried paint over your skin and glance down at it in vague interest. He’s got a really good set of eyes. You shift a little in the seat and pinch the ends of your sleeves before pulling them down further over your hands to hide them from him.

“A few years,” you reply vaguely, “you’re rather observant, Agent Jane.”

It comes across more as an accusation rather than a general statement, and it doesn’t seem to bother him in the slightest. He grins, flashing a nice set of pearly white teeth. 

“Patrick,” he supplies, “and I’m a consultant.”

“Didn’t even know that was a thing,” you mutter plainly, not liking the way you feel like a fucking open book with this stranger, “well, shouldn’t you be in there, then?”

You nod towards the closed door of the conference room and Patrick makes a low noise of dismissal, a slight scrunch curling his nose.

“I already know everything about the murders—Lisbon can handle it.”

The word cuts through the air and chills you right to the bone. 

“Murders? What murders?”

Patrick looks at you, shrugging lightly.

“That’s why we’re here. The fancy little tracker led this bunch down to the meeting point in California, but we found the bodies first. Deal gone wrong, I’m guessing. The buyer probably found the painting to be a fake, and got rid of the delivery men because of it. Very messy.”

Your stomach turns.

The painting? Your painting? 

“What was wrong with the piece?” You ask quietly, voice suddenly strained.

“Not sure,” Patrick murmurs, taking an apparent interest in the way you’re reacting to his information and studying you from over his tea, “guess we’ll know soon enough.”

You swallow, a sting of sweat building along the back of your neck. They knew it was a replica? How? You must’ve done something different, there must’ve been something wrong with it. Otherwise how else would they know? They wouldn’t.

Have you made a mistake?

Is that why Marcus wanted you here? Are you in trouble? What would be the ramifications of your mistake? After all, it’s your fault. People had died because you didn’t focus hard enough on your work. The FBI have probably realised how useless you are if you can’t even convince some shady black market dealers that your pieces are real. 

You must’ve been distracted. You never made mistakes, and now you’ve made one that cost lives. How many? It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that it happened, and now you have to live with that knowledge.

People have died. People have died because of you. 

You fucked up. 

-

tags: @maievdenoir, @javier-pena, @lv7867, @dihra-vesa, @katronautt, @radiowallet, @januarystears, @missminkylove, @beskarprincessjenny, @mswarriorbabe80, @danidrabbles, @amneris21, @eri16, @absurdthirst, @hnt-escape, @acourtofsnakes, @ezrasbirdie, @mstgsmy66, @lovesbiggerthanpride, @coaaster, @sherala007, @greeneyedblondie44, @wyn-n-tonic, @you-got-me-starry-eyed, @shirks-all-responsibilities, @withasideofmeg, @harriedandharassed, @andruxx, @buckybarneshairpullingkink, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @prostitute-robot-from-the-future, @tanzthompson, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @hope-for-the-best-98, @fangirl-316, @christina-loves, @jediknight122, @hallway5, @xoxabs88xox, @nicolethered, @churchill356, @massivecolorspygiant, @just-here-for-the-moment, @gracie7209, @pinkie289, @lavenderluna10, @goodgriefitsawildworld

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike #pedro pascal x reader #the mentalist fic #run to you

[zhounauts]

crown prince!lee heeseung x f!reader // warnings: cursing, fainting (?) part two series masterlist

a/n got inspo for this after rereading this reincarnation webtoon i used to like a lot, these reincarnation stories are lwk a guitly pleasure of mine so i was like why not write one

+ is this even considered an x reader??? like heeseung hates u oopsie lolz

anyways enjoy (hopefully)

YOU WOKE UP WITH AN EPIPHANY , to give the two leads their happy ending. despite the fact that you had woken up in a stereotypical reincarnation manhwa, the author was far from stereotypical. not only did she have a strange almost concerning obsession with her two main leads, but she was also a goody-two shoes rule follower who told you that the original plot of the story and every single event must be followed and copied to perfection.

unfortunately for her, you said fuck that, had knights take her away and put her in a mansion on the outskirts of the kingdom where she wouldn't be able to reach you. so now, instead of scheming devious, nefarious acts against the female protagonist you now took advantage of your personal chef who worked relentlessly at your constant requests to try all the fancy dishes you could've never afforded in your previous life.

"the audacity!" rina, your maid suddenly exclaims, holding a letter.

"i can't believe this! my lady, this is outrageous! how can saintess sora write and send something so shameless!? " faye your second maid exclaims.

"hm?" you ask, focusing on the blueberry cheesecake in front of you, "what happened faye?"

"the saintess sent an invitation for her tea party! she wrote, 'countess i know we are not on good terms because of the crown prince, but the other ladies and i hope that you will join our humble tea party, and put aside your grudge'" you chew on the cake.

"oh, okay,"

"OKAY!?" the two scream.

"m-my lady! how does this not bother you? she is being disrespectful and using the fact that she has the crown prince's affections despite you are his soon-to-be wife!"

"oh, that's true," you shrug, "what can i do about it? if he likes her better okay then, i don't want to marry him anyways," rina collapses into faye's arms.

"my lady! rina are you--"

"with all due respect, but my lady, back then you would've done something! why the change of heart now?"

"well. . .he doesn't like me?? like it's pretty obvious, and i was just naive and uhm, craving for male validation back then or something like that i guess. it doesn't matter to me anymore,"

". . ."

"besides, his highness prince jay is more my type ,"

"MY LADY-"

"I MIGHT FAINT-"

after calming down your fainting maids, you had reassured them that you would go to the tea party and give the female protagonist, saintess sora, a taste of her own medicine for the disrespect she had sown you. (you were not planning this at all)

so now here you were, a week later getting dressed for the pain-in-the-ass tea party. "my lady we will dress you up to be the most beautiful at the party!" your maids exclaim.

"that's really. . .not necessary you know? i'll wear one of the dresses i usually wear," rina starts to lecture you, before a knock interrupts. faye rushes out of the dressing area, to open the door.

"your highness!" she exclaims, bowing. you peek out from behind the dressing area and head out.

"my lady you are not ready--"

"your highness, a pleasure to have you here," you say, bowing.

"y/n," heeseung addresses coldly, "are you attending sora's tea party?"

"yes, your highness,"

"she was telling me she was worried you would reject her request, due to your dislike for her," he says, narrowing his eyes at you bitterly. you stare at him unimpressed.

"my apologies, your highness, if i offend you by saying this. however you and saintess sora seem to be mistaken,"

"my lady don't--"

"i literally don't give a shit,"

"oh dear gods," rina mutters, and she collapses.

a/n lemme know how it was 😋😋

#heeseung x reader #enhypen x reader #heeseung #royal au #enhypen royalty au #prince!heeseung #prince!au #enhypen imagines #heeseung scenarios #heeseung imagines #heeseung fluff #enha x reader #enhypen #enha imagines #enha fluff #jungwon #sunghoon #engene #enha #enha fanfic #heeseung fic #enhypen fic #enhypen heeseung #lee heeseung #enha x y/n #enha x you #heeseung oneshots

[year2000electronics]

OHENSBNDMDNG okokokok let me tell you a story. While thinking back on brozone's flashback at the start of band together, my mind fell on grandma Rosie Puff, and how I've come to be really intrigued in her. How did she end up having to raise all of brozone on her own? Where the hell are their parents? But most importantly, how can we make one of the only other character traits of hers that have not much to do with brozone have some sort of hidden lore to it? I'm talking about the scene where she shows to be very very enthusiastic and serious about rummy, and supposedly other gambling games.

And for a while I've been SUCKIJG AND CHEWING on that crumb of bread. LITERALLY.

What could this mean for the world of trolls? Does gambling exist within singular troll genre clans? Orrrrr is there some sort of clandestine gambling world going on outside of the old troll tree where trolls of all different backgrounds and obscured pasts come together to gamble together? What the hell am I on?

But anyway! That thought never really went anywhere. It just stood in my mind. But I had no idea what to do with it.

And then.... Your trolls Royal Flush au came out of NOWHERE.

I've only just started reading the Google doc and I've gotten past the adaptation of brozone's fallout and, I just gotta say that I really appreciate you giving Rosiepuff a whole lot more autonomy and control over a bad situation. Instead of just staying in one place, where she barely made any huge life decisions that affected Branch (other than sacrificing herself) and having a very vague picture of what kind of person she was, this single paragraph in your Google doc about what she and branch did after brozone disbanded has done A WHOLE TON OF HEAVY LIFTING TO CHARACTERIZE HER THAT I REALLY, REALLY HOLD DEAR.

How she probably became a beam of hope to little baby branch after realizing his brothers are never coming back.

How her bold decision to completely change her and branch's life for a better future, makes her a strong, determined, and confident person.

How... She must've been the ONLY PERSON in Branch's life he could still rely on at that point.

Its just... I've known this lady for a single paragraph but her death just means so much more, and HURTS so much more. Dying in the place she used to thrive in.

SUDDENLY THIS BEAM OF HOPE, THAT WAS THE MAIN SOURCE OF BRANCH'S STRENGTH was taken away from him. So suddenly. So unexpectedly.

I'M GONNA KILL MYSELF

Sorry I went on and on about a character who had one paragraph dedicated to her.

But she also got one paragraph

So therefore she's worth talking about.

In trolls one, we're supposed to care about Grandma Rosiepuff's death because of her assumed importance to Branch without really knowing ANYTHING about her.

But in this AU, you just painted such a clear image of her, we knew her for one paragraph but we also realized she's all that Branch had for a good portion of his lonely childhood. So much more than just one scene of her being taken by a berger, than just one paragraph.

Just!!!!!!!!!! I'm happy I'm really happy with what you did with Rosiepuff. Slay in peace, sweetheart.

BUT NOT JUST THAT-

THIS ENTIRE AU'S WORLD BUILDING.... Is really really thorough!!!!! Like!!!!! It's so well done!!!!! I loved the introduction to the world at the start of the Google doc, AND I LOVED HOW YOU INCORPORATED THIS WORLD BUILDING FOR ROSIEPUFF'S BACKSTORY.

AGHJHHHH I NEED TO CONTINUE READING

Thank you if you went this far!!!!! You deserve roses for all the amazing work you have ever put out into this world big or small, I'm excited to see where this goes.

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

THANK YOU SO MUCH AAA!! yeah i knew that if i was doing a big casino au i couldnt NOT give grandma rosiepuff some connection to it i mean come ON!! i think thats generally a big overarching theme of how the city of luxgoode takes advantage of vulnerable people and like, taunting them as if risk can make their dreams come true. people will ruin their own lives if they can save the ones they love, even for some of the casino owners (gristle and creek obvi but i think even chaz is a lower rung in this system, it goes up to the 1% mount rageons, especially and mostly v&v's parents)

i also just. love the idea of brozone sharing traits w their grandma. jd may have pulled a lot of the weight but she did raise them too!

#mothra answers #trolls #royal flush au #my art #TY FOR ALL THE KIND WORDS THEY MADE ME SMILE

[choicesficwriterscreations]

January MC of the Month: Nora Rose

Please welcome January 2024's MC of the Month! Each month, we highlight one MC or OC on our Meet My MC / OC List. They are selected randomly on the Wheel of Names, and eligibility requirements can be found here. We accept MC / OC profiles on an ongoing basis. Please feel free to send yours in!

This month’s MC of the month is…

@inlocusmads's Nora Rose

More below...

In your own words, tell us what you like most about your MC / OC.

The thing I like the best about Nora is how she has a killswitch alternative to any plan she comes up with. Even if it is something as simple as coming up with dinner options. She has this interesting perceptive ability that's akin to playing 4D chess, but at the same time, she has elevator music running in her head.

At the same time, she's sometimes terribly wrong and isn't afraid to acknowledge that. The things she's able to do today - from keeping a level head and a calm composure in the hardest of situations come from her childhood where things were hard, and she had to grow up quite quickly. A lot of times, she'd have to think on her feet, run through options, remember new stuff, and be able to work with her constraints, not just pertinent to her job but in her adulthood as a whole. Her capacity to be able to stand up on her own feet came from so many instances where she couldn't even get off the floor or look straight ahead. 

Nora's also a slow learner but an avid one nonetheless. She was kicked out of so many schools when she was young, mostly because of her not being able to focus properly or standing up to her bullies (something the school calls ‘stirring trouble up’), and it kind of stunted the faith she had in herself. She had to build up an open mind to be able to differentiate between what is good and bad for her. She had to learn how to carve out her own path, despite dealing with so much grief she could never move on from. All of these things stuck to her when she grew up, which made her more aware and sponge-like to gather the mental ammunition needed to face all kinds of problems. 

Nora's far from what she pictured herself to be as a kid, but she's kind of bittersweet about making it this far. Optimistic that if she just doesn't think too much about stuff, the space and time around her would heal even the bloodiest of wounds, but also disappointed she can't deal with things more openly and faster, like in a brawling match. But I'm happy for her, given the circumstances she was in. Nora's always had this ability to chew her way out of things - by hook or by crook. If she can't decode a lock, she'd just give it a slight nudge. If the nudge doesn't work, she'll just straight-up shoot at it and deal with the fallout later. Her main motto is to “just keep going”. 

Do you feel your MC / OC is like you at all? How are you alike or different?

I'd say I took a lot from my experiences growing up and gave them to Nora - dealing with people at school, understanding where she truly “belongs” (before she realized that was a load of bull and she should just stop tunnel-visioning a perfect outcome and instead think about laying down a different road to her path). Nora and I share this trait where we can't sit still, but if something's up, we'd spend hours at the same place, even if it involves doing absolutely nothing. Plus, it takes both of us ages to respond to a message. Nora more than me, for sure, and half the time, she's just bored of the routine email chore (not a good sign in her line of work, but she manages.)

That's where the similarities stop haha.

She's a tough person. She throws a good punch, having undergone a lot of physical training to qualify for her NYPD officer job and more recently, for her private eye job (Mafalda had some strict requirements). She's also a great problem-solver as aforementioned. Besides the usual differences in physicality and all, she doesn't get startled easily - as in, the world could possibly end tomorrow and she'd still be at her desk, responding to a two-year old email. Her self-assurance at that instant (not anytime or anywhere else) but at that very instant is so strong, it is honestly remarkable. 

Nora also enjoys doing things on her own. Whether it be making dinner from scratch, down to the bread-baking, deducing information (without relying on scraping the bowels of the internet) or stitching her clothes if they don't fit her. It was one of the only lessons her mother taught her before she passed. Which is also the reason why she doesn't like frozen food. More on that later. 

What is most important to your MC / OC? What is their motivation in life?

Vengeance. 

Just kidding. 

It is actually vengeance. I don't know how else to put it. 

Nora's been wronged by a lot of people in her life. From losing her mother because the hospital in charge neglected her to losing her father also because her co-workers neglected him, she went through pretty much the same neglect-arc in school and college. She was always dismissed as a “traumatized kid” half the time and the other half the time, people didn't listen to her when she'd say, for example, report a bully for what they did or critique a faculty member for showing their bias. It resulted in a lot of things that went wrong in her life - from not having a good support system to being an actual orphan when she was barely thirteen. 

This kind of manifested in horrible ways when she was a kid. She suffered from a lot of anger issues and would immediately resort to physical violence if she were confronted. It isn't fair to blame her either, because she was so helpless. She'd wanted someone, just anyone to listen to her - to be there for her. This desire to help her child-self developed well into adulthood. Nora began building back the stability she never had. She's still doing it. She allows herself optimism even when she doesn't believe in anything. She puts her faith in the arbitrary workings of the universe so there's less burden to carry on her shoulders. Even though the things she tells herself aren't all perfect, they would be something her younger self would have appreciated so much. 

Taking revenge for the child in her to rest easy, for the teenage girl in her to find joys in stupid things such as trashy television shows and emo music and for her to be at peace in her own skin without wanting to explode every five minutes has always been her plan ever since she grew up. That and simply because she uses it to feel more proud of what she does. When something isn't getting anywhere, she's like “Yeah well, f it, we'll get it done. A setback ain't shit.” It was always about the “we”. 

Nora is also driven by the motivation to finish something as fast as possible. Everything is like cross-country running to her because she relishes in the satisfaction of getting a chunk of time just to herself right after getting something done. Which means she's either very good at jumping through hoops or crashes and burns. If something takes longer than her intended expectations, she'll drop it in an instant or table it until she gets her motivation back to finish it. It resulted in a lot of half-completed, archived projects but a few she's proud of, including having made her own quilts and bedsheets for the winter. 

This mentality is something she can never get rid of. At school, she was either the best player on her soccer team or the absolute worst. (Hey, at least there's no in-between to her.)

What are their biggest pet peeves/dislikes?

She hates frozen food with a burning passion. Being from a Chinese household, her parents, in the few good years they had with her - taught her the importance of a home-cooked meal or just any cooked meal. Nora, being the impressionable naive child she was, caught onto it and developed this visceral hatred for frozen anything. While she digs the convenience, she isn't a fan of how it tastes either - apart from her family values. This seeps into how Nora sees everything. She's the weird survivalist aunt with a shotgun in her closet because her personal goal is to make everything she consumes. From food, down to the clothes she wears or the curtains in her window, everything has to have had her work and hours put into it. 

Nora is also not a fan of people who don't listen first and just yap, yap and yap. This is why she often got into “creative differences” with her co-workers in her precinct. This is also the reason why Mafalda gives Nora full control of the wheel when she isn't there at the Agency, because the fewer people yapping, the happier Nora is and the better she works. 

As for visceral dislikes, boy oh boy does she have a lot:

Starting strong with the NYPD because they suck, point blank, period. She also thinks there's a special place in hell for people who just assume a lot and can get away with baseless accusations. She can understand broken promises - after all, people move on sometimes, and it's hard to keep track of them, but she draws the line at a proper betrayal. Words don't matter much to her, but actions do. Nora also isn't a fan of people who jump to the easiest conclusion just because it's easy. She’s seen a lot in her life not to automatically red-flag them. It’s worse when it comes from authorities, y’know people you’re taught to trust.

Also, people who gate-keep their expertise. She’s come across so many pretentious people who’d rather let an important investigation hit a dead end than worry about spilling their “trade secrets.” Kind of a niche dislike, but if you’re running out of time and your only hope banks on a mystery novelist’s ability to describe what he saw and tell the truth like his characters would have done, you too would be frustrated if he’d rather drink his coffee when he knows he’s purposefully jeopardizing the investigation’s momentum. And that’s just one of her ‘good’ experiences. Nora loathes academia and wouldn’t touch it even with a six-foot pole.

If your MC / OC could change one thing - anything - what would it be?

Be blessed with a readable medical textbook so she could diagnose her mother earlier than her doctors ever can (and) get magical surgery skills to revive her dad after he got stabbed. 

She still regrets not being able to do anything because she was “just a kid”.Nora has learned to cope with it, knowing she can't do anything about it but she still has this itching feeling of what if things had turned out for the better. It's this heavy rock she's gonna have to deal with for sometime now. 

Nora has this tricky relationship with her heritage. She isn't a fan of how different she is compared to the rest of her family and how they'd ostracized her after her settling down far from home. She wants to be able to change that aspect but knows it is too late to repair the damage. If she could go back in time and “pick a side,” she wouldn't have to feel the FOMO.

This regret of hers, however, is attributed to her never feeling she belonged somewhere among her family. Someday, she'd have to find her own family, own circle of friends, and culture to build. Someday, she'll learn that she's as valid to celebrate her heritage as her Aunt Mei or Uncle Tommy. That there aren't true extremes to anything there's no “one way” to be something, but until then, she's going to angrily sew back some loose stitches and groan about not being able to speak Cantonese as fluently as her relatives or being a “true” New Yorker. 

Also maybe her hair. (Also it is so hard to draw her hair consistently.) Sometimes it gets in the way. And maybe fix her eyesight without needing contacts or glasses. Automatically give herself 20/20 vision whenever needed and blur her eyes out when she doesn't want to.

What is your MC / OC’s favorite quote or song?

It's hard to pick one song, because Nora listens to anything and doesn't really have a music ‘taste’ as long as the song she's listening to has some spunk to it. Something she relates to would be I Talk To The Wind by King Crimson. Combined with the slow pace and the lyrics that basically put her life as a picture, it's a bop.

Is there anything else you’d like to share about your MC / OC?  (It can be why you created them, how they’ve inspired you, or you could write a little blurb as if it is coming from your OC - an acceptance speech. :) )

I've struggled a lot with naming characters before but Nora's was the only time I knew her name wayyy before I could give her a personality. I was like “yep she's Nora, she's definitely one, yep.” and somehow I didn't anticipate how much she'd like, write herself and the story just writing itself. It literally popped into my head as outlandish as it may seem. And somehow that process worked because I don't ever run out of new headcanons to add.

Nora's also the first character I've created a 100k-worded introduction for (which will never see the light of day and is chucked into my files). I honestly expected her to just be fleeting. I'd make up something about her character, and I'd leave it at that, but nope. 

She's the most organized person in the universe. Her clothes never had a chance to get folded since 1999. She is so methodic and yet will pull off stupid shit like kickboxing a door because she doesn't want to open it. Nora is the character to every character but she stops charactering if she's in front of any screen with something playing on it. She can calculate the angle she needs to throw something so it can hit something, but she fails at basic math at the checkout line. She's masterful at cooking up a storm in the kitchen but enters her flop era when she forgets to take her stuff from the oven when the timer beeps.

Honestly, Nora was such a good lesson in writing as well because people are not always black-and-white. Sometimes, their strengths are their weaknesses. Sometimes the things they are chasing after work against their benefit. Maybe their opinions are skewed after all, even though the narrative conditions into believing that they're the Hero character. They should be allowed to be terribly piss-pathetic poor at something before learning to solve the problem, and sometimes it's okay if they're just bad at something if they can improv a way forward.

Plus, she's cool and stuff. Sometimes. 

#cfwc mc of the month #crimes of passion #inlocusmads #meet my mc #choices fic writers creations #playchoices #choices stories you play #january mc of the month

[red-panda-agere]

Regressor! Malleus Draconia

(So I don’t actually play TWST (even though I want to, my phone won’t let me) but my boyfriend really likes Malleus, so I’m trying to base these headcanons off of what my boyfriend has said about him. These aren’t going to be super in-depth like my usual ones, but I hope they’re good anyways :’3)

Malleus loves sleeping/napping with his head in someone’s lap, especially Yuu’s/MC’s and Lilia’s, as they’re his main caregivers.

One of the ittiest bittiest of babies, probably around 1-2, sometimes less

He absolutely cannot be left alone when regressed, and will search/pace the same few rooms/places for over and hour looking for a caregiver before giving up and retreating to his room to cry. If he does find one of his caregivers beforehand, he’s too shy to actually say he wants attention, but will snuggle into their shoulder without warning or just hope THEY WANT to give him attention.

Lilia is often called ‘Dada’ by little Malleus, the little one seeing Lilia as more of a parent figure than anyone else.

Dada’s boy through and through

He loves being called “Little Prince” or just simple little names like “Baby” or “Little one.”

As a dragon, he will teethe and chew on everything, including his own tail. It doesn’t hurt him, but they always try to draw his attention and motivation to teethe elsewhere, with teether rings, chewelry, and pacifiers. Malleus gets very nervous to use his pacifiers infront of others, even Lilia, but he loves them.

-Because of his fangs, he bites through a lot of pacifiers and teethers, so they have to buy more ‘heavy duty’ strong ones, Lilia even saying he’ll make them himself if he must

He has an abundance of little items based on Gargoyles, including a few stuffed animals and a bunch of story books he has read to him before naps/bedtime.

Little Malleus loves to ramble about Gargoyles, but often worries he talks about them too much. He’ll go on a very lengthy infodump to Yuu/MC about gargoyles, but will pause after a few minutes and just start apologizing.

He really wants little friends, but he’s worried that he’s too scary for other little ones and he’s far too shy. The closest little friend he has is Silver, but even then he already feels like he’s his little brother.

Silver and Malleus are often little together, Malleus always watching over the two of them and sounding like a proud papa the whole time.

“My precious baby boys! You two are the cutest ever!” Lilia pinches one of Malleus’ and Silver’s cheeks at the same time, unable to contain how much he loves the little goobers. Silver giggles softly “Dada!” he smiles. Malleus just whines, pulling away from his father figure’s hand, rubbing his cheek after. “Oh, I’m sorry little prince, did Dada hurt your lil cheek! Let him see!” Before Malleus could respond, the attentive vampire immediately giving his cheek a bunch of kisses. The little dragon tried to whine and push him away, not wanting to do this infront of Silver, but after a few kisses, he was a giggling mess. “Don’t think I forgot about you goober!” Lilia then did the same to Silver’s cheek, earning some muffled giggles from behind the sleepy little one’s pacifier.

Silver, when regressed, refers to Malleus as ‘baba’ or ‘bubba’ if he even can even speak at the moment. Silver and Malleus both share really small headspaces.

His tamagotchi is one of the most important things to him when he’s little, and will spend hours tending to his little digital friend if his attention isn’t directed elsewhere.

Malleus often has nightmares about those he loves leaving him, and almost always wakes up crying and shivering, sometimes even full panicking. He’s very clingy until he’s cuddled and calmed down. After nightmares, he usually doesn’t sleep the rest of the night.

Loves having stories told to him before bed, and whoever’s reading/speaking always has his full attention, and he tries not to ask questions during it, but usually can’t help it.

“Wuh! What happens to the little dragon then!” Malleus asked with concern for the fictional little dragon in the story book Lilia was reading to him, hugging Lilia tightly from behind, his chin resting on his shoulder. The vampire laughed softly. “I dunno baby! We’ll have to keep reading won’t we?” Malleus blushed a bit at this, but watched intently at his Dada kept reading.

He treats being bottle-fed by Lilia the most normal thing since he’s his basically his father. Of course, it’s only comfortable in the comfort of their rooms and when they’re alone, Malleus not even calling Lilia his dad during interactions outside of their rooms. He loves being bottle-fed though, even if it’s a bit difficult with how much taller he is than Lilia. His horns make it a bit difficult to lay on his lap, so his head usually goes near his shoulder and his legs over his lap, or he sits between his legs. Lilia would not stop until he had a way to bottle-feed his little one(s).

Malleus loves having his hair pet and played with, even when he’s not regressed, but when he’s regressed he will actively search for it. Not with verbal question, but he will press his head to Lilia’s hand.

He absolutely hates how strong he is, especially when regressed. He feels left out watching Lilia and Silver bake/cook together when they do, because he can’t help make them without breaking things on accident. It doesn’t help that Lilia likes the make cookies and treats for them so often, Malleus just wanting to be his Dada’s little helper.

Little Malleus needs praise for just about everything, even if it’s something he did without trouble or could’ve easily done when not regressed. If Dada didn’t tell him he did a good job going to sleep when he asked, Malleus will worry he did something wrong.

He doesn’t mean to be, and he doesn’t look like he would be, but Malleus is such a sensitive little baby and cries a lot. He doesn’t like crying infront of anybody though, and will go hide in his bed or the bathroom if he starts to cry. Lilia will always immediately follow him, or go into overprotective Dad mode when he finds him.

“Oh baby, why are you hiding?” Lilia asks with audible concern before sitting next to the crying Malleus. The dragon desperately tried to stay hidden behind his plushie, but Lilia gently set it to the side, and gently cups Malleus’ face in his hands. He kisses the top of his nose and wipes a few tears away. “Little one…Talk to Dada baby.” He spoke softly and calmly, whispering as to not frighten the little guy. Malleus takes a hold of Lilia’s hands on his face, before softly crying a little harder. He then holds his hands towards Lilia, the vampire letting him retreat into his shoulder. “Shh sh sh shhh…Dada’s right here my little prince.”

Malleus gets really shy about little outfits, usually settling on comfy pajamas. However, on rare occasions, the little one wears footed sleeper onsies, Lilia taking extra care to make a hole for his tail. He wears it most when he’s feeling extra sad/uncomfy or sicky. It’s usually saved for itty bitty baby headspace.

Lilia often jokes with little Malleus to be careful about burning his bangs like he did as a baby dragon. He teases him about a lot of stuff he did as a baby, but Malleus secretly adores it, as it makes him feel extra small still, his father figure treating him like he’s still the same little baby dragon.

(Trying to get all my WIPs finished and posted)

#agere #age regression #sfw #fandom agere #sfw babyre #agere community #sfw cglre #sfw interaction only #babyre #agere headcanons #twisted wonderland #disney twst #twisted wonderland malleus #malleus draconia #twst malleus #sfw age regression #sfw agere

[painting-warhammer]

Solitaire in the style of Vriska Serket (Homestuck)

Just in time for 4/13! Commentary under cut.

The Lessons Learned

#1: Learn As Much As You Can Before Letting Your Mini Anywhere Near A Brush

As first figures go, this was honestly not as bad as it could have been, but I am an outlier. (and the second figure would be much worse.) Since the proverbial canvas was so expensive, it was a lot of "measure twice, cut once."

This was the main thing I used, and save for the face looking like chewed-up bubblegum, it came out relatively okay for a first try. Overall, this guy's a legend and this would be far from the only video of his I would reference.

#2: It's Okay To Be Inspired

What really hooked me on Warhammer in general is that you can paint things in your style. This is appealing at first, but if you're not an artist, you're going to be exposed quickly in the worst way possible, and that's by the color wheel theory. If you don't understand contrast and coomplements, all the technique in the world won't save your figure from looking like an eyesore.

This is where "established" characters that you are mimicking end up being your saving grace. If canon material is your bag, that works: You certainly won't lack as far as exact guides then! But in my opinion, you learn a bit more by improvising and trying to make something similar to an established character. Chances are they're popular because they have an appealing color scheme. As it happens, Vriska's various blue motifs really complement her orange, which is something I never realized way back when.

Also, reinterpretation was inevitable. I had initially considered freehanding the sun symbol on her lapel, but when everything was smaller than my pinkie, I just settled for making her jewels yellow. The real masterstroke was taking the Harlequin's Kiss weapon and recoloring it as the Warhammer (oh hey) of Vrillyhoo.

I just took the general colors and used Spiritstone Red on the rounded bits, and made something analogous to it. It's still the neatest part, imo.

#3: The Best Way To Start

For every color, I had a swatch. I had one base color, which I then doused in a shade, and then added one layer paint as the main color and one shade lighter for highlights.

#4: How To Make A Shiny Figure

There's a special paint called Ardcoat that puts a glossy texture on, but something that's a little more muted that gives a shine is... shade paint! I didn't shake the paint pot enough and created a fun glossy texture that you can see on her knee. (I learned how I accidentally did this by asking at my local Warhammer shop, lol)

#5: Don't Be Afraid To Make Mistakes

I'm sure there's more than just this wrong with this figure, but the Solitaire is supposed to be leaping off that little rock there. There were glyphs where I was able to put in a glowing line of Baharroth Blue that was watery enough that it filled in the little gaps on its own. It looked fantastic once...

Unfortunately, I overfilled my brush and it sloughed over into the other creases and ruined the whole effect. I also slopped Mordant Earth onto the stones and made it too ugly.

But that's just it. As much prep work as I was going in with, there was always going to be a mistake, and on a personal psychic level it feels bad when you make it. It ruins a whole day of painting lol. And you can't really stop those emotions, but you should at least try.

#6: You're Not Married To Your Army

It's inevitable that getting your first figure leads you to think about a whole army of them, but I had this distaste in my mouth when I thought about making more than one Vriska. For one, I didn't like any of the other Harlequins or Aeldari, or more importantly, I couldn't think of fun color schemes for them. The thought came to mind to make the ships similar to the Batterwitch/Condesce, but they were too similar color-wise (and even in the symbology!) where it just felt redundant. I get a special kick out of making something different from the boxart, because that's the point in my opinion.

I coped for a while: Green stuff or 3D print horns for the other figures to make them trolls? Suck it up and just use Vriska's color scheme for the others? In the end, I just gave up and called this a practice run. This is still my favorite figure. I'm just happy the first one turned out so nicely, relatively speaking, so I don't really have a lump of paint surrounding what was once a figure like a lot of first-time painters.

But no worries. Because I'd definitely fuck up the next one. 😅 That's for a new post.

#Homestuck #Vriska Serket #painting warhammer #Games Workshop #Warhammer #Warhammer 40K #WarhammerCommunity #Warhammer 40000 #wh 40k #WH40K #Warhammer40K #WarhammerPainting #Miniature Painting #Painting miniatures #Mini Painting #Aeldari #craftworld eldar #harlequins

[qettleqorn]

Aburame: Tattoo Shop AU | DLC This is basically an additional addon to @kankuroplease's own AU. So thank her for all the good content she brings!

The Family

Occupationally Speaking. Many within the Aburame Family have taken to working with the dead as morticians or as hitmen. Usually though they'll work in teams where one is the hitmen and the other the mortician.

Some within the family have even gone to use their knowledge of insects to help expedite the process of getting rid of the bodies. Though it does help that they collectively own quite a few crematories and some graveyards too.

Also. They run a few of the garbage disposal places. Basically they are where you go to when you need to get rid of something.

Since the family makes it's living off the dead. Many find it to be creepy. Since ya know- death.

They work with both the Uchiha and Hyuga, they are a neutral ground kind of family as no matter what happens. They ofc will always be there waiting to take the dead. By their own hands or gifted.

Sometimes if the pay is good enough they'll even help smuggle things- people to wherever they're needed to be.

There are different syndicates of the family. Approximately six, they try to confuse the law by doing this and if one needs to go down they can easily replace it with another branch head.

Amongst the clan these branches are known by. Bikōchū, Kidaichū, Kikaichū, Kochū, Rinkaichū, and Shōkaichū.

The Aburame numbers always seem to stay the same amongst the gang. It isn't really obvious how many people they may or may not have.

Public schooling for the kids. Most don't even know the Aburame are in charge since they have those syndicates and what not. Though some of the higher ups kids do go to private schools. But most of the time it's all public.

The Crew

Shibi Aburame

Another childhood friend of Mikoto's but she didn't need to kick his butt for them to become cool.

Use to be a hitter but after having Shino he decided he rather work with disposing of the bodies instead of making the hits himself. Keeps him closer to home and gives him a cover up.

Met his girl in school too. Makes the off handed joke to Fugaku that he didn't need his ass kicked to know he found the one he liked. He just needed a ear full.

His wife does know of the business, he tries to make sure she and their children stay out of it. But unluckily for him Shino has joined them after seeing his adoptive brother and his father tending to a work incident.

Shino Aburame

Is going to college to become an entomologist. But is also trying to partake in the family business because he hates to see father and brother suffer alone.

In addition the way the family uses insects to decompose of the bodies gives him the ability to study them much more closely. (Shibi breathes a sigh of relief that his son is just as weird about bugs as his mother is.)

Torune Aburame

As his father, Shikuro, is often locked up for one reason or another. Torune has taken to staying with Shino's family. Unofficially adopted by them basically.

His side job is being a tattoo tech for one of his cousins. But disposal is his primary source of income when he isn't sleeping on Shibi's couch- much like his father tries to do when he isn't locked away.

Shikuro Aburame

Is alive and well in this. But is locked up and keeps getting locked up. He's practically the family fall man after an incident with his adoptive brother having thrown him under the bus.

Muta Aburame

Far off distant cousin to Tatsuma and Torune. Muta is also Torune's hand in crime as the two often are partnered up.

When he isn't working with Torune, Muta is often tending to his silk worms. He often uses them for craft works.

Tatsuma Aburame

Personal guard to the current family head Takeo.

Chews a lot of bubble gum. Uses a cigar case to carry his gum packs.

Yōji Aburame

Best marksmen out of the main family.

Takeo Aburame | Oc

Has been in charge of the family since he was fifteen. Inherited the position from his Aunt.

Wishes to pass on the title to his son already but knows he would get bored if he didn't keep it. He's far too use to the excitement the job brings and as much as he enjoys making teapots in his spare time. He finds that life in charge more fulfilling.

#KPZ | Tattoo Shop AU #aburame #shibi aburame #shino aburame #torune aburame #muta aburame #Tatsuma Aburame #shikuro Aburame #Yōji Aburame #U.Takeo | Oc #aburame oc #I love this au #I love seeing it #anyways. this is oddly enough the most chill au so far gsgsg

[sp0o0kylights]

Idk if you're still taking submissions from the WIP game, but if so, I would definitely be interested in a snippet for 20.

20! This is Hungry, the main werewolf AU I have. Outside of my big fics (in terms of word length--Cults and Illustrated) I have the most snippets for Hungry, but its so all over the place lol.

This is not A/B/O, this is a werewolf verse similar to Patricia Briggs/Ilona Andrews type of werewolves. As with the others, it may get a LOT of the editing axe lol.

Snippet:

Steve woke with a groan, feeling like he’d been hit by a car.

Again. 

“Do I want to know what happened?” He muttered, though it was mostly to his own wolf, as the details of the earlier morning slowly filtered through his memories.  

Like many werewolves, his wolf was a part of him, but often operated almost like it was a purely separate being. 

This was due to the drastic differences between wolf and human lives, with the human portion having more problems adjusting to their combined form than the blunt way wolves did. It let werewolves feel like they could “talk” to their other half, though the actual magic was far more complex than that.

Steve didn’t particularly care for complexities and so, just went with the basic explanation of things. 

It suited him and his wolf just fine. 

Eddie was passed next to him, head pillowed on Steve's chest, face tucked into his neck. A glance showed Jonathan was blinking awake behind Eddie, curled up into a tight ball the same way he always slept. 

This meant Steve got to watch the sheer joy that was Eddie Munson’s curls tickling Jonathan Byers’ nose, the latter sneezing himself into full awareness. 

“Shut up Steve.” He grumbled when he finally stopped, Steve desperately trying to silence his snickering so that they didn’t wake Eddie. 

::I’d tell you to make me, Byer’s, but I don’t need to give Eddie ideas.:: Steve said it over the packbond between them, making the conversation both private and silent, so as to not wake their sleeping member. 

He waggled his eyebrows though, just to see the face it made Jonathan make. 

(He got an amazing eye roll in response, the both of them pretending Jonathan wasn’t trying to hide a smile. )

He studied their newest member while for a while, chewing absently on his lower lip as he did so, and Steve let him take his time.

Wasn't in the mood to rush things, after the close call they'd had back in the kitchen.

:: I like him.:: Jonathan said finally, sounding quiet even when he talked in a way that didn’t involve his voice at all. ::I don’t know what Hop said to him or why, but from what I’ve seen, he’s well suited to being our Second.:: 

Second as in, the official Second in Command of the Pack, as in Nancy’s replacement, something Steve agreed wholeheartedly with. 

Nancy tried, bless her. She did. Didn’t do a bad job either, it was just that….

Steve thought of how pinched her face got when all six children sprung one of their hair brained  schemes on the Pack, how she made strangling motions at Mike’s back when she thought no one could see her. 

It was hilarious, and meant in good fun, but it also was a reminder that when it came to wrangling all their younger members, Eddie was far superior both in ability to direct and lead them. 

(Bonus, they actually cared about Eddie’s approval and opinion.)

#werewolf #steddie #this is actually steddie for once lol #hungry verse