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fettuccin-e · 4 months

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Flying to New Heights

Summary: A flight delay means you're spending your night at the hotel bar, praying for sleep to come to you. Instead, a certain Captain Francisco Morales shows up, tall and broad and far too tempting. With undeniable attraction burning between you, you can't help the way you fall right into his arms.

A/N: Alright! I know it's been a while, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Life has gotten a tad crazy, but the Frankie thirst never stops okay? And this AU has been buzzing in my head for a little while now, so I just needed to get it out there. I hope y'all enjoy the porn. (dividers are by the lovely @saradika-graphics!)

Tags: Frankie Morales x Reader, Commercial Pilot!Frankie, Flight attendant!reader, afab!fem!reader, alcohol consumption but barely, this is essentially an excuse for porn so, oral and fingering(r!recieving), unprotected piv (pls wrap it up I'm begging you), Francisco Morales and his dirty mouth have struck again (w/c: 4.2K)

You love your job, you really do. Deciding to actually train to be a flight attendant was one of the best decisions of your life. Gone were the days of short-lived stints in retail, and you’ve never been happier for it.

You’ve lived the attendant life for a few years now, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. You’ve met some of your best friends through this job, seen some of the most beautiful places in the world, met celebrities on their way to new production locations and concert venues.

It’s the dream, you tell your family, during the rare moments you actually get to visit them. And it is. The perks far outweigh the cons in your profession, and you’re happy to be where you are.

That’s not to say there aren’t any cons though.

There are always rude flyers, unruly children, issues with luggage. The turbulence is never much fun, nor are the months spent without being able to go home at all.

There are always nights like tonight, where the rain made the flight arrive later than expected, and you’ve got another flight scheduled for the morning. Between jetlag and the copious amounts of airline coffee you’ve imbibed to remain bright and chipper over an eight hour flight overseas, there’s no way you’ll get more than five hours of sleep before you have to clock in again.

A nightcap in the hotel bar seemed just the thing to cool off. You haven’t even taken your uniform off, the thick fabric stretching across your skin, your legs exposed to the cool air as you sip on your drink. The alcohol burns a bit in the back of your throat, but you take comfort in it, trying to lean into the calming warmth it creates in your stomach.

“Can’t sleep?”

The unexpected voice rips you from your reverie, and fuck, what a wake up call. The voice is deep, a pretty rasp edging into the ends of his words, the warmth of his tone making you far warmer than the alcohol in your glass ever could.

Captain Francisco Morales. Even his name has heat swimming in your stomach, and you wish you had just gone to bed like a normal person instead of drinking at the hotel bar at midnight.

You can’t decide if the pilot is a perk or a con of the job, only knowing that he seems to pilot most of your flights, and is a fucking distraction during every single one of them. With his big broad shoulders and patchy beard, the crinkles around his eyes when he smiles and his insistence that you call him Frankie, not Captain Morales.

The whole “flight attendants fucking pilots” trope never really applied to you until you met Frankie. You’ve made it a point not to hit on him, no matter how much you desperately want to. It would be far too stereotypical, and with how fucking nice Frankie is, you’d feel like you’d be taking advantage of him. So you’ve kept your distance, talking to him kindly, trying to cross your legs discreetly when he flexes his damn hands on the plane controls, and doing your job like a normal person.

But as he crosses into your line of vision, sitting in the barstool directly next to you, you’re struck with the realization that you’re in unknown territory. There’s no distracting yourself here with other passengers, or your fellow flight attendants. You can’t excuse yourself to an airplane bathroom to splash cold water on your face and yell at yourself to get it together. No, Frankie is right in front of you, ordering a whiskey neat from the bored-looking bartender, and smiling at you so fucking prettily with those big brown eyes and big hands and oh god you’re not going to survive-

“Nah, the jet-lag is really getting to me this time,” you say casually, your voice working on its own accord. At least you aren’t staring at him dopily like some kind of imbecile.

He chuckles. “Same here. Flight go okay?”

“You got us here, didn’t you, Captain? I’d say that’s a success.”

“Then let’s hope I’m always successful,” he winks, and it takes effort to breathe normally. You giggle, and he smiles at you again, his eyes crinkling up.

“You have a flight tomorrow?” he asks, sipping at his drink.

“Yeah, unfortunately," you sigh. "10:00AM, which is making the whole ‘no sleeping thing’ even worse. Y’know, it’s really the airline’s fault if I collapse on a passenger." You grin at him, and he laughs.

“Oh, they should be so lucky,” he chuckles, and you could swear that you see just a flicker of heat in his eyes. A heat that turns into a raging inferno inside of you, spreading from your cheeks to the tips of your toes.

“How about you, Captain? Flying again tomorrow?” You need to keep your mind out of the fucking gutter, not that he makes it very easy.

“Yup. They’ve got me in the air at 8:00AM.”

“Oh man, and you’re listening to me complain about my 10:00AM?”

“Work is work, sweetheart,” he smiles at you, and you want to collapse into him at that very moment. Sweetheart. Coming from anyone else, it would sound smarmy, like a pick up line, but from Frankie, it just sounds warm and comforting. You want to be his sweetheart. “We’re all allowed to complain. We aren’t in any kind of competition.”

He sips his whiskey, his eyes feeling like they’re boring into your fucking soul. “And either way, we’re both in the same bar, at midnight, sleep nowhere in sight. We’re pretty much in the same boat.”

“If you say so, Captain,” you say, your body positively burning under his gaze. You hope that you can blame it on the alcohol.

He raises an eyebrow, “I thought I told you to call me Frankie, sweetheart.”

“Frankie, sorry.”

“No need to be sorry,” he says, taking another sip. You try to not watch his throat work as he swallows. You fail. “Think you just need more practice,” he mumbles into his drink, so soft you almost miss it.

“Practice?” you blurt, mind too distracted to think of an intelligent response.

“Practice saying my name.”

A laugh startles out of your mouth. “I have no idea how I’d practice that, Frankie.”

He hums, pretending to think. “I have a few ideas,” he murmurs, and fuck, you definitely aren’t imagining the heat in his eyes now. It’s blazing into you, and you have to press your thighs together to alleviate the ache between them, hoping that Frankie doesn’t notice. Or maybe you hope he does, as you watch those thick fingers wrap around his glass.

Fuck it. He’s hot, you’re horny, and God, you can’t take much more of this. “I’d love to hear all about them, Frankie,” you say, adding a little rasp to your voice that you hope sounds sexy.

Frankie chuckles, but it doesn’t sound like he’s making fun of you. No, he sounds surprised, like he can’t believe you’re flirting back at him. Confidence swims in your chest as red colors his cheeks. You gaze up into those warm, brown eyes of his, and fuck, he’s so pretty up close like this.

“You sure about that, hermosa?”

You don’t break eye contact with him, and his deep gaze burns into yours. “Positive,” you breathe, and Frankie’s smirk is absolutely devastating.

Captain Francisco Morales doesn’t do this often. No, he doesn’t do this ever. Fucking between flights is supposed to be a perk of being a pilot, but it’s a “perk” he rarely utilizes. One night stands have never really suited him; he gets attached far too easily, and with his job, he can never stick around for long.

But god you’re pretty. And you’re licking hotly into his mouth, and whining in the back of your throat like you’re fucking desperate for it.

He couldn’t help himself when he saw you, still in your little uniform skirt, nursing a drink at the hotel bar. He couldn’t help himself when he struck up a conversation with you, wanting to see your pretty smile and soft laugh that he only ever hears mid-flight. And damn it, he sure as hell can’t help himself from pressing you up against the wall of the hotel elevator, pressing one of his thighs between yours while your fingers curl into his hair and his arms wrap around your waist.

You wiggle down onto his thick thigh, and it creates the most perfect pressure on your clit. You whimper against Frankie’s mouth, and he groans with you, pulling you flush against him.

“Fuck,” he breathes, and his voice is deep and gravelly, breathless from your fevered kisses. “I, uh, I don’t usually do this kind of thing.” His cheeks burn, but he doesn’t back away, just leans his forehead against yours and tries to catch his breath.

It isn’t a surprise, his confession. You’ve heard stories about every other pilot, about their conquests with flight attendants, or how someone saw one of them take their wedding band off when they got to their hotel. There are stories upon stories about every pilot you’ve flown with, except Frankie. And it’s intoxicating, knowing that he wants you enough to have you like this.

“Good. Me neither,” you whisper, and Frankie grins again. That boyish, devastating grin, and fuck, your clit is throbbing so hard that you could cum like this. You could cum, right in this elevator, Frankie’s thigh between yours and his tongue in your mouth, fuck-

The elevator dings, signaling your arrival to your floor, and Frankie jumps away from you as the doors slide open. You don’t take it personally, not when you’re instinctually tugging your rumpled skirt down. You glance up, and Frankie is already staring down at you, gaze blazing as he braces a hand against the elevator door, holding it open for you.

“Where’s your room?” he asks, and the question is casual, but his voice certainly isn’t. There’s promise in it, and you have to make sure your knees don’t buckle.

“Why don’t I show you?” you say, stepping toward him to press your bodies together. Frankie doesn’t answer, he only cups a hand under your jaw, dragging your face up for a sticky kiss. It’s so much better than a yes.

He breaks the kiss far too soon, but one of his hands makes its way down to your ass, squeezing the fat of it through your skirt. “Lead the way, princesa,” he grumbles, and how could you ever think to refuse him?

Maybe you’re a little too eager in your walk to your room, but Frankie doesn’t seem to fare much better. No, he’s just as desperate as you are, with the way he presses you against the door of your room the moment you close it. With the way he swiftly kisses down your neck, sucking your skin between his teeth as he unbuttons your blazer, shoving the fabric down your arms. The buttons of your white undershirt follow, and you keen as he sucks maddeningly at your pulse point, his mustache scratching at the sensitive skin of your neck.

As soon as you’re divested of your shirt, Frankie’s moving again, kissing his way down your chest. He drags his teeth against the soft skin of your breasts, and you dig your hands into his hair.

“Fuck, baby, you’ve got the prettiest tits,” he murmurs against your skin. It doesn’t sound like a line, no, it sounds like a prayer.

“Frankie, please,” you breathe.

He looks up at you from his position at your chest. “What, gorgeous?” he asks, coy, as if he doesn’t know what you want. What you desperately need.

“Please, just,” you use your grip in his hair to drag him back up to your mouth, and he goes willingly, groaning softly as his tongue meets yours again. “Please fuck me, Frankie,” you whisper, and Frankie groans like he’s dying.

“Take- take your clothes off, baby,” he mutters, and it sounds more like he’s begging than he’s commanding. “Take your clothes off, and get on the bed.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice.

You have to make sure you don’t trip on your way to the bed as you kick off your heels. You tug your skirt and nylons down your thighs, making sure to wiggle your ass a bit more than normal as you bend over to tug them the rest of the way down your legs. You smirk at Frankie’s soft groan behind you.

The air of the hotel room is slightly cold, but as soon as you kneel on the bed, arching your back in a shameless display of your desperation, Frankie is burning hot above you, and you can’t feel the cold at all. Frankie’s thick, calloused hands palm your ass, and you moan as he spreads you apart, staring unabashedly at your aching cunt.

“Can I eat your pussy, baby?” he grumbles from behind you, and the fact that he’s asking permission to eat you out is making you so much hotter, making you clench around nothing.

“Yes, yes, Frankie, oh please-” you whine, and Frankie barely lets you finish your sentence before he’s dragging his tongue in a long stripe up your dripping pussy. “Fuck, Frankie,” you groan, and he moans into you, sounding like he’s enjoying eating you out just as much as you are.

His nose drags maddeningly through your folds as he brings his lips down to your clit, sucking it into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it in circles that send pure pleasure sparking endlessly up your spine. You arch your back into it, pressing yourself into his mouth, and Frankie groans again. The vibrations of it against your clit make you jerk wildly, whining high as you clutch desperate fingers into the pristine white sheets of the bed.

Frankie tries to keep you still with one of his big hands pressing into the small of your back. His other hand makes its way to your pussy, and you don’t even realize, not when he’s licking into you so feverishly, until there’s a thick finger pressing into your achy entrance.

“Frankie, oh my god-” you gasp wetly, his finger so much thicker than one of your own. It’s been so long, too long, since you’ve had the touch of anything other than yourself. Your tiny, traveling bullet vibrator doesn’t feel like this. You can’t stretch yourself like this, you can’t drive yourself wild like he can.

He moves his finger around inside you, searching, searching, while he licks softly at your clit. “Where is it, baby?” he mutters against you, and you have to force your brain to work at least a little bit to decipher whatever the fuck he means.

His finger is still searching, stroking against your slick inner walls, and you can barely gasp out a, “up, up,” before he’s finally touching that sweet spot deep inside you. You can’t hide it when he does, gasping out a high pitched moan as pleasure rockets up your body.

“There it is, sweetheart,” he says, “good girl.”

And fuck, how do you hold yourself together when he says things like that. He licks again at your clit, but plays with that spongy spot inside you, abusing it. You’re so slick and hot, it doesn’t take long before he’s pressing a second finger into you, then a third. And his fingers are so fucking thick, breaking you apart and pressing into that wonderful spot inside you. Your vision is blurring at the edges as he plays with you like a practiced instrument. How is he so good at this? Your body barely feels like it’s your own, just Frankie’s; his to play with, his to fuck. God, he’s ruining you. It’s never been this good.

“Frankie, Frankie-” you whimper his name like a prayer, and his fingers move fast into you, jackhammering you into the mattress. You whine as he breaks his mouth from your clit, but he keeps his fingers pressed deep inside of you as he leans over your trembling body.

“C’mon baby, c’mon baby,” he mutters, moving his fingers inside you so roughly that you could swear he’s trying to break you in two. “What do you need, sweetheart? What do you need to cum all over my fingers, huh?”

“Just keep-” you gasp between shuddering moans. “Just keep talking to me, fuck, please-”

“Talk about what, gorgeous? Talk about how hard I am for you right now? How hard you always make me?” You whine at his words, and you can feel his smirk against the skin of your shoulder. His fingers move into you even harder, if that’s even possible. “Fuck, princesa, you have to know how fucking sexy you are. Make me so fucking hard whenever we fly together. Fuck, watched you bend over to pick up your bag once, right in front of me. Had to fuckin’ jerk my cock as soon as we got back to the hotel. Can’t help it around you baby.”

You feel like you’re underwater. Frankie’s voice is deep and dark in your ear, and your pussy is so fucking sensitive. You can feel your orgasm burning relentlessly in your stomach. Just a little more, just a little-

“Thought about taking you to the back of the plane, mid flight. Thought about fucking you hard, stuffing this pretty pussy, making you go back out to work with my cum dripping down your thighs. You want that, sweet girl? Fuck you’re so pretty, so pretty baby, you’ve gotta cum. Please, please let me fuck this pussy. Be my good girl, cum all over my hand.”

You don’t think he means it like a command, but you follow it anyway. You moan, throaty and wet, into the sheets as your cunt clenches around Frankie’s fingers, hips twitching as he presses reassuring kisses to your shoulder. You turn your head blindly, and he leans forward to meet your lips in a bruising kiss, his fingers buried deep inside as you gush all over his hand.

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” you whisper against his lips, repeating it like a mantra, and Frankie whimpers, needy and so hot that it makes you want to cry.

“Okay, baby, okay, I’ve got you,” he says, and you know he does.

When Frankie presses the blunt tip of his cock against the opening of your sensitive pussy, you both groan. You push your hips back just as he pushes his hips forward, and the tip of his cock is just as big as the rest of him. Which, of course, means fucking massive. You have to breathe through the stretch of him inside you as he sinks deep, deeper, deeper.

“Doing so fucking good, sweetheart. Jesus fuck- ah- so fucking tight baby- fucking beautiful- oh fuck-” Frankie mutters, sounding just as overwhelmed as you feel. It feels like forever until he bottoms out, his hips pressed against your ass as he hunches over you, hot and big and all man. It’s a dream that you’ve had before, but the reality is so much better than anything you could have ever imagined.

“So- you’re so big, Frankie,” you whimper, and Frankie groans behind you. “Need you to fuck me, wanna feel it tomorrow, please, please-” and he does. He pulls his hips back, just to shove himself back in, and the drag of his fat cock against that spot he found earlier has tears springing unbidden to your eyes.

“Yes! Oh my god, like that, just like that-” you’ve never talked this much before during sex. But his unyielding thrusts, deep, deep inside, have you babbling wildly.

“Christ, you can’t talk like that, princesa, gonna make me blow my fucking load-”

“Want it, fuck Frankie, want you dripping down my fucking thighs, wanna gape open after you fuck me, oh god-”

Frankie fucks in harder, and it’s like every thought you’ve ever had flies out of you. His chest and stomach press into your back as he holds you still, thrusting desperately into you, harder and harder.

The bed is creaking, a rhythmic squeak that mixes in with the endless sounds of your keening whines and Frankie’s moans, and the obscene squelching of your pussy around Frankie’s cock. Your wetness drips down your thighs as Frankie bullies his way inside. He’s hitting that beautiful spot inside you, so perfectly, so overwhelmingly perfect, and fuck, tears are dripping down your face as you clutch onto a pillow, only able to squeak out pitiful whines of “Frankie, Frankie,” as he destroys you.

“So fucking gorgeous for me, god, bebita, fuckin’- fucking tight, fucking strangling me. Been too long, honey? Too long since you got fucked like you deserve?” Frankie growls into your ear, fucking you like a god damn animal.

Frankie’s lost control above you, which he just doesn’t do. He’s always in control, always, he has to be in this profession. But it’s like you’ve stripped him bare, literally and figuratively, to the most primal parts of himself. You’re so fucking hot and wet and tight around him, whining and throwing yourself back on his cock like it’s the best you’ve ever had, and he’s losing it. Losing it far too quickly, and he’s going to cum far too quickly.

“C’mon, baby, give me another one,” he groans, “squeeze my cock with this perfect fuckin’ pussy, wanna, wanna feel it.”

“Touch my clit- oh please, please, Frankie, ah- ah” and he does, the moment the words leave your lips. He reaches underneath the both of you, not breaking the rhythm of his hips driving into yours, and rubs two of those thick, calloused fingers against your throbbing clit.

“Fuck- yes, just like that, just like that, oh my god.” You’re slurring your words, so stupidly drunk on the feeling of his cock filling you over and over, of his body radiating heat above you.

“Gonna take care of you hermosa, make you cum like you deserve, so fuckin’ beautiful crying on my cock,” Frankie says, rubbing your clit hard and methodical. “Never gonna get enough of you baby. Gonna fuck you in every hotel we ever get, fuck you at the terminal, fuck this pussy in the god damn cockpit, oh shit-”

And you’re screaming, outright screaming into the sheets as the thread in your stomach snaps, your pussy clenching and gushing all over Frankie’s giant cock. He’s still mumbling into the cook of your neck, mindless mumbles about how pretty you are, how perfect, as you tremble through the most powerful orgasm of your fucking life. It’s devastating, it breaks you apart and puts you back together all at once, and you just have to trust Frankie to hold you together in his strong arms.

“Where do you want it, huh baby? Please, please, you’ve gotta tell me, oh shit-” Frankie whimpers, and it’s a damned good thing you still have enough brain cells to understand what he means.

“Inside, inside, 'm on the pill, please, please fill me up.” It’s fucking risky that you both didn’t even think about a condom, but with a man like Frankie, it’s hard to think about anything.

His hips still, his cock pressed inside so deep that it feels like he could be in your lungs, as he fills your pussy with his cum. He bites harshly into your shoulder, but it doesn’t fully muffle his whimpers as he crashes through his orgasm. Your eyes flutter shut. You wish you could bottle those sounds and listen to them forever.

Your knees slide out from under you, leaving you laying flat on your stomach, and Frankie follows, holding himself against you as you wait for your breathing to slow.

“That was…” you whisper into the quiet.

“Fucking amazing.”

You can’t suppress your giggle. “Took the words right out of my mouth, Frankie.”

He tucks his face into the crook of your shoulder, and you can feel his pretty smile, before he’s lifting himself off of you, and you realize how cold you are without his heat.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” he says, and you can’t bring yourself to do anything more than nod. Frankie rushes quickly into the en suite bathroom, and you can hear the sink running for a moment, before he comes back. A warm, wet rag makes its way down your back, over the curve of your ass, and between your legs. He’s ridiculously gentle as he wipes you down, and it’s wonderful.

Once Frankie deems you clean again, he climbs into bed next to you. He wraps his arms around your placid body, tugging you close. “Didn’t take you for a cuddler, Frankie,” you murmur, but you only snuggle closer, relishing in his deep chuckle.

“I’m usually not.”

“You don’t do this often, though?” you say, dragging a finger down his chest, your eyes already fluttering shut.

You feel Frankie’s lips press to your forehead as he murmurs, “I think I’m willing to let this,” he hugs you against him softly, “become a new habit.”

You smile, and you lean up to kiss him gently. “I wouldn’t mind that at all.”

#*runs away again for another month*#Frankie the man that you are #always here to pull me out of a writing slump #frankie morales x reader #frankie x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales smut #frankie morales x fem!reader #triple frontier x you #triple frontier fic #triple frontier smut #triple frontier x reader

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bakugoushotwife · 10 months

Note

hiii!!! i rlly enjoy your writing 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

oml ok idk how requests work but like, can i request sum for gojo? like sum smutty ;)

maybe something like make up sex ;))) honestly you have like sm freedom writing it because i jus need some make up sex w gojo 😩😩

tysmmm!! hope you’re having a great night

a/n: yeah we need to kiss for this one bestie !! no but i love what this turned into, i was stumped over what to make them fight about so luckily the beautiful @getosbigballsack saved the DAY! <3 i love u babies!! gojo looked so scrumptious in the episode i literally have not stopped thinking about him so please take this brain rot and enjoy it

summary: you've gone and spent your allowance too soon, and now your husband is home to deal with it.

cw: y'all-- uh established relationship, gojo, he's kinda mean at times ngl, spanking, dacryphilia, oral (m receiving) facefucking, cowgirl, , pet names, daddy kink, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, they are married i swear

wc: 3746 unedited

Allowance // Satoru Gojo x fem!reader

“Hi baby! Welcome home!” You sing happily, getting up from the dining room table to meet your husband at the door as he enters. You smooth down the ruffles of your new dress, excited to show off what you bought with him in mind. When you round the corner, you come face-to-face with a less than excited Satoru Gojo.

You stop in your tracks, his glare was intense and you knew that meant only one thing: you’re in trouble. He continues to stare at you silently, setting his keys down on the table with a loud clunk. He slipped out of his shoes, all while his icy gaze narrowed in your direction.

“What did you do today?” He asks knowingly, giving you one chance to answer truthfully before he enacted his punishment.

You start to wring your hands. You knew what this was about of course, but you had hoped to get yourself off the hook. You turn on your best pout, blinking up at him with your perfected sad puppy eyes, your long lashes only making your pout prettier. “Awh, ‘Toru, listen–” You try sweetly, to no avail.

“Ah, ah. Answer me.” He interrupts, to which you promptly shut your mouth. You brought this on yourself, you really did. You avert your gaze as he sits in his chair in the living room. The cushioned seat around him made him look like a King on his throne, staring down at his Queen forebodingly. Even his posture is intimidating; his arms folded over his chest and long legs extended far in front of him, one foot tapping expectantly.

“Did you lose your voice?” He asks, tilting his head to the side, taking in your appearance. You look angelic as always, and he knew that was a new dress. It fits you perfectly, he must admit, tight at your chest and waist and barely covering your ass. The color was striking against your skin. God, you made this difficult. He was glowering with anger, more aptly called sexual frustration and desire. He had all the intentions of punishing your behavior. You were both busy all week, making it the longest he’s gone without you aside from work related trips. In an effort to make up for his absences and tardies, he gave you your full allowance two days early.

He really does enjoy spoiling you, giving you an insane amount of money every week just for you to spend on clothes and shoes. All your hair and nails and lashes and waxes were paid for, whatever you wanted, you got it. However, there were certain rules. His sweet little house-wife wanted for nothing, and he would have it no other way. But you have to show your gratitude, because of him you haven’t worked in years. You have to make your allowance last until your next one, just because he knew you were impulsive and couldn’t do that every time, no matter the amount he gave you. Your tastes grew more and more expensive with every deposit in your bank account, though most of it was spent on beautiful outfits and gorgeous lingerie that only he would consume. You blew it all this time in one day, a new record.

You shake your head, eyes trained on the floor. “No, I didn’t..”

“No, what?” He arches his brow, waiting.

“No daddy.” You correct yourself, swaying from side to side in your pretty little dress, showing how the material flowed out around you. “ ‘M sorry daddy, really…jus wanted to get all pretty for you.”

Your pout truly was magical, your sweet face trying to bail you out of your punishment. He watched the skirt move for a minute, eyes trailing down your exposed legs and onto the new Alexander McQueen heels hugging your feet. So that’s where most of your money went. Undeniably, the shoes were made for his princess, but that was besides the point right now. All prettied up you were indeed, and he would make good use of it.

“You know the rules, baby girl.” He says sternly, even the use of one of his many pet names for you seemed harsh. He spread his legs a little more in front of him, waiting for you to behave. His stance and authoritative tone made your pussy throb immediately. You did feel bad for making him angry, but you knew you wouldn’t necessarily dislike your punishment either, in fact you were looking forward to it.

You stepped toward him, heels clicking against the beautiful hardwood floors of the Gojo home. He offered one hand out to you, the other supporting his cheek as if he was growing bored from waiting. Your perfectly manicured fingers wrap around his slender ones and your cheeks start to warm, a knot growing in your stomach in anticipation. You step up onto the arm of his chair with your knees, getting your balance before laying across his lap, your elbows propped up on the other arm of the chair. He watched you with dilated pupils, all your effort to make him want you worked like a charm, as if you needed to do anything special in the first place. It had been a long week, followed by this stunt? You were definitely in for it this time. He hisses when he bunches the skirt of your dress in his fist, revealing a lacy and barely-there thong.

You smirk to yourself now that he can’t see your face. You knew he liked it, you could feel his approval for the way you look poking into your stomach right now. You wiggle your ass for him, a soft giggle escaping your lips. That quickly turns to a gasp when his large hand smacks down on your skin, making your asscheek sting immediately. The surprise makes you jump forward a little bit, and he doesn’t hesitate to jerk you back. He gives an equally hard slap to your other cheek, and the pain is sweet. You like the way it burns paired with his satisfied grunts as he watches your recoil each time.

“Aren’t you supposed to be counting?” He reminds, not much of a question at all. His typical grin is replaced by a dark smirk as he applies another spank to your backside.

“Three.” You hum, wiggling in his lap inadvertently. He chuckles at the sight of you, shaking his head. You’ve only given him one option, to increase the rate and intensity.

“What a bad girl I have. Disappointing daddy like this.” He clicks his tongue. You whip your head around at this, you weren’t a bad girl! You just wanted to dress up for him, you couldn’t help that the rules were gonna keep you from doing that! He’s pouting when you look at him, really putting on a show. The force of his slap makes you squeal this time, and you can almost feel the handprint branding in.

“Nuh-uh!” You protest, heartbroken by his words. He keeps you from arguing it further with another harsh spank, burning the skin and making tears prickle your vision.

“Yes-huh.” He mocks, another spank. “You can’t even count like you’re supposed to. Such a naughty thing. Makes me so sad.” He sighs, eyes glued to the darkening skin of your rear. He was in fact leaving handprints, and he loved the way it looked.

“Six!” You call out to make up for the ones you’ve missed, your brain getting scrambled under the gorgeous pain and his mean speech. Your body was consumed in heat, your panties growing uncomfortable against your soaked middle. “Daddy, I swear ‘m sorry! I didn’t mean’ta disappoint you!” You pout, the last words coming off your tongue in horror. He doesn’t accept the apology, another smack rippling across your sore ass. “Seven!” Your chin wobbles.

“Go ahead and cry. Maybe if you cry for Daddy, I’ll forgive you.” He grins, hand coming down on you once more. “You’ll have to make it up to me, since you’re such a spoiled brat. Why would you ignore my rules unless you were a bad girl? This isn’t even a punishment for you, look how wet you are!” He teases, clicking his tongue as his fingers press against your clothed hole. You can hear the squelch of yourself, lewd and loud and the only sound other than his sadistic chuckles. “Tell me you like it, angel. Tell me the truth…”

“Eight,” You whimper, writhing in his hold now. The pain was turning your vision white in the corners, but you still didn’t want him to stop. He was right, you were a bad girl for spending all your money in one day, you could have picked less expensive pieces, but you wanted to push Satoru to his limit. You sniffle, the tears welling up so big they cloud the rest of your vision. Your ass is almost numb when you feel his hand again. “Nine! ‘M sorry, imma bad girl ‘n I love your spankin’s..” You whine, fat tears finally rolling down your cheeks.

He hums, reaching for your chin so he can see your face, cheeks red and lip nearly bleeding from how hard you’ve been biting down on it. Your tears make you even prettier, coating your lashes and making your eyes glossy. He loves it, watching your sweet tears fall off your face to be absorbed by the fabric of his armchair. “Can you make it to ten, dollface?”

He asks, gently wiping a tear from your cheek with his thumb. “That could make it up to Daddy.” He hums softly, though his ultimate concern is your limit, and you know that too. You nod, if you’ve made it this far one more won’t break you. He smiles brightly, patting your cheek gently and letting your face go in favor of one last punishing spank of your bruised flesh. He rubs the skin after, trying to soothe it while he thinks of what he’s going to do to you next.

Your eyes close under his now gentle pressure. Your ass pulsates and your pussy throbs with need, your biggest concern now was earning back your husband’s favor.

“Ten. “m really sorry, I mean it! Wanna make it up to you, really make it up to you..” You breathe apologetically, waiting to move until he tells you that you can.

He hums at your sweet apologeticness. His princess truly owns his heart, and he could never stay angry with you. His anger melted the second he saw you, but he had to follow through on his word. Plus, it was fun to see you so ruined like this. He wonders what you may have in mind, so he arches his brow and waits for you to speak.

“Let me suck your cock, Daddy. Please?” Your voice was permanently warped into a pouty whine it seems. He chuckles at your suggestion, how could he ever turn that down?

“Go ahead angel, just for a bit. I’m gonna breed my brat.” He says dauntingly, gently pushing you off his lap. His hands support your waist as you lower yourself to the floor between his legs. His bulge was staring at you, painfully restrained by his pants. You pouted up at him and shook your head, reaching for his button and zipper.

He hummed at your attentiveness, leaning up so you could drag his pants and boxers off. You giggle softly as his member slapped up against his abdomen upon release. You look at his dick with awe. It was just as pretty as the rest of him, long and curved just to abuse your sweet spots. His tip was an angry purplish-red, and pre-cum beaded at his slit. You licked your lips and looked up at him, dainty and soft hand wrapping around his lengthy shaft. You could barely close your hand around him, fingers far from touching. He took his own bottom lip in his mouth to keep from sighing, your hand alone tremendous relief.

He fights the urge to close his eyes, wanting to watch his sweet brat take him. His hands grip the arms of the chair, the suede fabric the only other identifiable feeling other than your warm throat gripping around him. He was heavy in your mouth, tip poking at the back of your throat with inches left to swallow. You decide to bob your head along what you have so far, eyes fluttering closed so you can focus on the feeling of his ridges rubbing against your tastebuds. Your throat relaxes, letting you take in the rest of him with a gentle moan, the vibration sending shockwaves through his body. He wondered if you could feel his cock pulse the same way he does, watching cute tears run down your cheeks again, no doubt pushing your skills to accommodate him. He needs more of you, his cock never deep enough. You look so beautiful, rubbing your legs together to relieve your own ache for him, he can’t help but moan out too, reaching for a hold fashioned of your hair.

“You can’t go so slow, princess. I thought you were going to make it up to me?” He smirks, forcing your head along him. You gag around him and he makes an animalistic growl, striving for that choking noise again. He fucks into your face just as hard as he pushes your head down. You have to hold his thighs, digits gripping his lean legs for your life. He giggles at your struggle, though he knows you’re more than happy to please him. He keeps going until he hears that gurgle again, the sign of your struggle to take all of him in. Tears roll freely down your cheeks at this point, your mouth just a hole being used.

He pulls you off of him, relishing in the saliva coating your lips and the heaving of your chest. “Climb aboard.” He hums, looking down at his painful erection and back up at you, his perfect princess but bumbling brat. “Take the dress off though.” He adds with a scrunch of his nose, anxious to see your perfect body under the pretty dress.

You nod and peel the dress off, discarding it into a pile in the floor. You slid out of your heels as well, thinking it wise with your task ahead. His eyes grow wide at the sight of you, a matching lacy blue bra cupping his favorite breasts. “It’s pretty, princess. You’re gorgeous, need you to come sit on me.” He wiggles his eyebrows, watching tentatively as you unlatch your bra and let it fall to the floor as well. “You might as well take the panties off too, then.” He grins, pearly white and sharp teeth sparkling at you.

You grin as well, bending over to slide the soaked garment off, throwing them at him with a giggle. He catches them, sticking his tongue out to taste your arousal off the soiled center. He hold your eyes the entire time, crystalline half-lidded orbs putting a spell on you. You shudder at his intensity, humming as you crawl back into the chair. He tosses your panties over his shoulder, licking his lips from your taste. His only focus is you. Your thighs straddle his hips, his weeping member already poking at your slick entrance. He just grins and places his hands on your hips, pulling you down to take him all at once. You gasp, the sharp burn of him against your womb was a feeling you never adjusted to.

It was one he loved, both the feeling of your suffocating walls clenching and unclenching around him and the look of pleasure on your face before you’ve even started to move. He smiles, knowing how to get under your skin just like you did with him. He pulls his touch back, folding his arms behind his head. He looks up at you, eyes wild with mischief, tendrils of his shaggy white hair splaying over his muscular arms and the fabric of the chair to create a beautiful contrast. “This is your punishment, princess. Gotta do all the work yourself or I’m not gonna touch you.”

You whine, bracing yourself on his chest. “So mean, Daddy.” You puff your cheeks, but start to slowly bounce on his lap, the pleasure of him bumping against your pleasure spot already making it hard to keep your pacing consistent.

“I can show you mean, if you say that again.” He threatens, though his features display amusement. He does find it adorable that you can’t keep yourself together past a few cute bounces, inflating his ego even more so. He has to fight the urge to take control, though he’s not sure he can do it much longer with your pathetic attempts at riding him. It’s his idea of a joke, making his pretty little brat take the top for once. It was clear who took care of you, and that alone was making your cheeks warm in embarrassment.

As if you could read his thoughts, you bite down on your lower lips and commit to thirty seconds or so of consistent bouncing. Your face scrunches up in frustration, and your perfect pout is back on display.

“Aw, baby girl, what’s wrong? Can’t fuck yourself the same way Daddy does?” He hums curiously, his pretty pink lips curling into a grin.

You shake your head, letting your head fall forward into his neck. “No Daddy, I can’t.” You admit, defeated by his blatant show of his dominance over you.

He chuckles, patting your hair lovingly. “Aw, now that’s okay sweetheart. I’ll take care of you like I always do.” He gently reminds, bringing his hands back to hold your waist. He stands up with you, walking a short trek until your back smacks against the living room wall. He grins cheekily when you wrap your arms around his neck. He shifts his hands to support the underside of your thighs, and you know he has the strength and the stamina to hold you here until he’s satisfied.

“Now, much better.” He hums in your ear, looking down at where your pussy swallows him up. He pulls himself out to the tip, plunging into your cavern without a second passing in between these actions. He does it over and over, enjoying the way your body relaxes now that he’s back in control, as if he wasn’t to begin with. You’re still clutching him for dear life, but he’s used to that. Your face softens, only pleasure in your mind. He loves seeing you like this, being the reason you’re so blissful. He groans at how easy it is to slide in and out of you, dripping wet for him and he didn’t even have to work you to that point. “You’re still Daddy’s good girl, gripping me so tight like that.”

You moan at his praise, continuously squeezing down on his length to make him happy. He fills you up so perfectly, his pace starting to increase, your head rolling back against the wall as well. He bites at your neck, the column just too delicious to ignore. Your moans amplified, and he could feel your throat vibrate under his teeth. He leaves marks on your jaw too, sucking deep hickies all over your dainty flesh.

“This is how you’re prettiest, princess, these are my favorite decorations.” He says in reference to his teeth marks and bruises covered in saliva that pepper any skin he had access to. His breath grows heavy, the feeling of it fanning over your new markings makes your skin tingle and goosebumps spring up in place. Your cunt only grows tighter as he fucks the shape of him into it, making him sigh happily.

You can only speak in jumbled whispers of his name and moans, never more grateful for support than you are for the wall behind you, the ability to hold yourself upright long gone. Your hands slide up to tug on his hair, the feeling of his silky tresses giving you something to focus on. His pretty noises feel like a reward after what you’ve done, deep grunts and breathy moans gifted directly into your ear.

“It’s been so long, princess. Didn’t get to have you all week, then you go and disobey me.” He clicks his tongue and grins at you. “I think you just wanted Daddy’s attention, hm? Did you just miss me angel?” He teases, the force of him making your body jump up and slide back down the wall at every thrust.

You do your best to nod, and Satoru knows you’re past the point of being able to speak coherently. He was splitting you in half, you could feel him in your stomach and it burned so deliciously. “Mhm.. missed daddy s’much.” You wail, the rubberband in your stomach was stretched, so much tension that was about to snap and leak out all over him.

He knows this, of course, trying to time his release with your own. As mean as he could be sometimes, your pleasure was still his goal, and he wanted you to reward him for all his work. “Go ahead, princess. I wanna feel it, go ahead and come for Daddy.” He coaxes with gentle kisses to the bruises he made. “I’ll give you mine if you give me yours.” He purrs, watching your eyes roll back with a satisfied grin.

You cry out, knuckles turning white under your grip on Satoru’s shoulders. You nod in acknowledgement of his words, and he can feel you spasm around him to signify your release. He coos loving words to you, eyes glued on your cream creating a ring around the base of his dick. It’s so satisfying, watching you jerk with sensitivity and struggle to hold on. He loves this, his cock jumping inside you before his cum coats your insides. You swear it's in your guts, fee

ling impaled by his cock still pinning you to the wall. His head rests against the cool wall beside yours, but you can see the smile on his face. You smile too, breathing heavily and your brain feels like it’s floating in your skull. You know if he set you down right now that you would fall to the ground, legs still shaking in his hands.

“I think you’ve learned a valuable lesson, princess.” He coos, pressing his lips gently to your forehead. He snakes his arms around your waist before he begins walking with you again, this time towards your shared room. “We can review for the rest of the night, just to be sure you really understand.” He adds, smirking cheekily. “And I’ll go to the bank tomorrow, just promise Daddy you’ll be smarter with your money.” He says with an affectionate slap to your ass while all your weight is supported in his other arm.

“I promise Daddy.” You hum, hugging his neck and pressing your upper half against him. You absolutely would spend all your money the very next day if it means you get this punishment again.

#gojo x reader #jjk x reader #kyleewritesjjk #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #gojo is the love of my life #no seriously #i cannot stop thinking about him #its getting to a mental illness level i think #gojoitis #im trying to do my JOB and can't all i see is basketball gojo #how am i supposed to live life normally again #live laugh lobotomy

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thunderxleafart · 5 months

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Hey y'all! :D Now that the holiday madness has died down, I finally managed to finish this off!

It seemed only fitting to draw the twins enjoying the Christmas season, since I adore those lil buggers so much, but it looks like they have a friend with them this time around! ;D

That's right, it's good ol' Edward! Honestly I love most of the characters from Thomas (especially the model series), but Edward definitely earns a special place in my heart along with those cheeky little twins. Plus I will always have a soft spot for the father/son bond he seems to have with the twins. ;; It's just so wholesome! And you bet Edward is one of the only engines the twins will never play tricks on, cause he genuinely respects and looks out for them, so they respect him right back. :D Wholesomeness all around!

Just some wholesome train content for y'all as we close out 2023 and head into the New Year! <3

I spent a lot longer on this than I'm willing to admit LOL but after everything, I'm still pretty darn happy with how it came out! Backgrounds are a pain as always but I'm still pretty darn happy with how it all came together in the end! Especially since this was my first attempt at drawing Edward, and I'd say he came out pretty darn good! :D

The Holiday season has been pretty up and down for me this year, a lot more stressful then previous years, but Christmas Day was still a blast hanging out with my fam. <3 I finally have my grubby lil hands on the Railway Stories collection, and I was really happy to see how everyone reacted to the things I got them! ;3 So overall, a good year!

I'll be putting together another art-in-review type thing for the year that'll hopefully be posted tomorrow, so stay tuned for that! :D

I hope you all had a nice Holiday season, and I look forward to bringing you all sorts of fun new stuff in the New year! ;3 And as always, thanks for looking everybody!~ ^w^ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Edward, Bill & Ben (c) Thomas & Friends Art (c) Me! <3

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alwaysbethewest · 5 months

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Kingsman 2 fic: Stay Close to Me

Happy @pedrostories Secret Santa day, y'all 💃 I was thrilled when I received my assignment and saw that I'd be writing for my sweet friend @iamskyereads 😁 Skye, I hope you have a merry Christmas and I hope this little story helps make it bright. (Okay a quick note: generally speaking I don't believe in apologizing for your writing, but I do feel like a small apology is merited here. Halfway through writing this fic I started to panic because I felt like I wasn't really meeting the brief of your prompt 😬 I started wondering if I should start over from scratch but I was already too far into it. I accidentally wrote you... a case fic???? With a smidgen of romance sprinkled in. I'm sorry! Despite my stress over that realization I did have a lot of fun writing this and I hope you will enjoy it anyway!)

Title: Stay Close to Me Pairing: Agent Whiskey (Jack Daniels)/f!Reader Rating: Teen Word Count: 5.3k Content/warnings: Fake/undercover marriage! Statesman casefic! A little romance, kissing, coarse language, very mild peril and hurt/comfort, and a splash of alcohol. Reader is a junior agent and has some muscle but otherwise no physical/age descriptions. As with any good Kingsman fic, my first step was to disregard half of canon, so this is either pre-movie or an AU. Unbetaed but thanks as ever to @fleetwoodmactshirt and @mourningbirds1 for their hand-holding ❤️ Please let me know if you spot any typos/mistakes.

The Statesman offices are housed in a sleek highrise in Midtown, a 40-minute commute from your tiny apartment. To anyone who asks, you work in the marketing department, and you’ve learned enough by now to drone on about synergistic strategies for diversifying market shares to bore anyone listening, but to those in the know, behind passcode-guarded doors, you’re Agent Violette, junior analyst for the private intelligence agency hidden behind the national whiskey brand.

For a secret spy job, your work is actually fairly routine. Most of your time is spent doing research and compiling intel for agents working out in the field. Occasionally your boss sends you into the field yourself—little baby excursions to get your feet wet—and you won’t pretend you haven’t enjoyed the thrill. But your desk job is comfortable, and satisfying, and you’ve got no complaints.

It’s Wednesday, and the only sign something out of the ordinary may be taking place is the note you find on your desk when you clock in. It takes only a little of your codebreaking expertise to interpret:

9:15 AM—mtg w/ Agt. C rm 806

Room 806 is a teleconference room furnished with a small table and a handful of chairs. One seat is occupied when you get there.

Agent Whiskey raises an eyebrow at you from under his cowboy hat. The accessory is so out of place in the urban streets of New York City that when you’d first met him you’d wondered if it was an affectation—a marketing ploy to signal the authenticity of the Kentucky bourbon your company sells on the side. But while you haven’t worked closely with him, you’d quickly learned it seems he’s just… like that.

He slides a folder towards you and you accept it as you take a seat and don your glasses.

“Any idea what this is about?” he asks.

You shake your head. Just as you open your mouth to speak, the comms switch on and Agent Champagne appears across the table before you, via the technological wonder that is your projection spectacles. More high-tech and more secure than Zoom, they’re one of the many things that sets Statesman apart from lesser spy agencies.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Whiskey straighten up slightly in his chair.

“Jack!” Agent Champagne greets him. “How was Munich?”

“All good, sir,” he drawls. “You’ll have the full report this afternoon.”

“Very good,” the older man rumbles. He turns his attention to you. “And Agent, uh—” His eyes shift down to the notes on his desk. “Agent Violette. Good to have you on board.”

You’ve worked at Statesman for three years, but you’re still too low on the org chart to have landed on the director’s radar before this. He says your code name like vie-oh-let instead of the French pronunciation you prefer, but there’s an affability to him that makes it go over easier.

“Thank you, sir.”

“So, California,” he says, diving into the brief. Whiskey opens his file folder and you follow suit. The top page features a short itinerary and a character profile that you quickly learn is a new undercover alias. Violet Davenport. You like the name. She sounds high society. Glancing over to Whiskey’s file, you spot his alias and your brows raise involuntarily.

Johnny Davenport.

Hm.

“Vineyard owner out there is concerned about a potential theft. He’s received some threats and needs a couple of bodies on the ground to sniff out the trouble,” Agent Champagne states.

“Theft of what, exactly?” Agent Whiskey asks.

“Wine. Money. The usual. He’s got his personal wine collection stored on the premises. You know the business—some of those bottles are worth a pretty penny. Mr. Peterson—that’s the client—says he has a list of suspects for you to look at.” Champ waves a hand, looking vaguely unimpressed. “Obviously you’ll have to use your own judgment on whether any of his theories check out.”

“Sir, I don’t understand why I’m being sent on such a simple assignment,” Whiskey says. “No disrespect,” he adds belatedly, glancing at you. You give him your politest go-along-to-get-along smile.

Champ looks like he’s torn between amusement or annoyance at Agent Whiskey’s attitude.

“Same reason for anything, Jack. Politics. This client has close connections in the state government over there. If we can solve this simple problem for him, it may just lead to more prestigious cases. Ones you’ll feel are worthy of your valuable time.”

Jack should look chastened, but he doesn’t. He does stop arguing, though.

“I need a senior agent on the case. And Violet’s supervisor assures me she’s got the research and fieldwork skills to step up on this one. Your cover is a married couple on an anniversary trip, so I’m basically sending you on a paid vacation, here. There’s more information in the files you’ve got.”

Whiskey flips through the pages half-heartedly and gives a curt nod.

“Well!” Agent Champagne slaps his hands on the table decisively. “I now pronounce you husband and wife. Mazel tov!” With that he ends the transmission.

And that’s how you find yourself at the airport Friday morning with a diamond ring on your left hand and a disgruntled cowboy by your side.

The flight lands in San Francisco without incident, and Jack shifts into doting husband mode as you head to pick up the rental car the agency has reserved. He reaches for your suitcase to load it into the trunk.

“Let me get that for you, sweetheart.”

You give him a saccharine-sweet smile. “I’ve got it, hon.”

You lift the heavy bag with ease and watch his mouth purse for a second before he smiles back.

“I guess my baby’s stronger than she looks.”

The bored-looking attendant sees you off and Jack has you punch in the GPS destination while he eases into the busy freeway traffic. He’s a confident, slightly impatient driver, but you see him relax once you’re over the bridge and sailing smoothly north on Interstate 80.

“So what’s our game plan?” he asks as highway signs for Napa begin to appear, and you reach for your notebook and flip it open.

There’s only one bed.

You probably should have done the math on this as soon as Agent Champagne declared you a married couple, but in the whirlwind of arranging to leave town and the anxiety of stepping into your biggest field operation to date, it hadn’t occurred to you to worry about the precise nature of your accommodations.

Jack sets his bags down and flops onto the bed, letting the soles of his cowboy boots dangle off the end. It’s an exaggerated display of exhaustion, but you’re tired too after a seven-hour flight and another two hours in the car. His lanky body takes up the whole length of the bed and you try not to let your eyes linger as you contemplate the sleeping arrangements.

He picks up on your hesitation.

“This is where I’m supposed to do the gentlemanly thing and let you have the bed all to yourself, huh? Sorry, sister, not gonna happen.” His tone softens. “But I promise I don’t bite. There’s no reason we can’t share.”

The only couch in the room is a small, overstuffed loveseat that you can tell at a glance neither of you would enjoy reclining on for long. So you do the mature thing and agree to sleep with him.

Not like that.

Bill Peterson, the agency’s client, is one of those people who claim to be easygoing while in reality they exude nonstop nervous energy.

“I know exactly who it is,” he tells you in a hushed voice. You and Jack are in his office, under the guise of a private tour of the winery. Peterson has been going over what you already know from the file: that he has a high-value collection of wine held on the estate, as well as a hard drive storing what he’ll only describe as “sensitive” material; that he’s received several vague threats recently; and that with the hustle and bustle of harvest season upon them, he’s concerned his regular security won’t be sufficient to stop the would-be thieves.

“Oh?” you say. “Well, that will be very helpful, Mr. Peterson.”

“Okay,” he amends. “Maybe not exactly, but I can give you a list. Of suspects.”

“We’ve seen the list,” Jack tells him. “But what is it that makes you suspect these folks in particular?”

“They’re mostly other winery owners,” Peterson says. “Everyone on that list was present at a party I attended a few months ago where I—let slip some details about my collection. It was only after that the letters started.”

You and Jack exchange a glance. You’re both wondering if “let slip” isn’t code for “bragged loudly.”

“Is there a reason you haven’t gone to the police?” you ask. His eyes narrow.

“I value discretion,” he says tightly. “Anyway—I’m not sure they’d consider the threats actionable.”

“Can we see them?” Jack asks.

“Of course.” He retrieves a small stack from his desk drawer. You and Whiskey put your heads together to pore over them.

They’re all written by one person, in slanted, blocky handwriting.

YOU WILL PAY.

YOU WILL LOSE EVERYTHING.

YOUR EMPIRE WILL CRUMBLE.

WE WILL CRUSH YOU.

“Is there another one?” you check. “There are five envelopes but only four notes.”

Peterson hesitates, then shrugs and shakes his head. He’s lying, but you don’t push it.

“There is one other thing,” he says. “I keep seeing this blue truck—but it’s like he doesn’t want to be spotted. I see it slow down like he’s scoping out the place, but then he speeds off as soon as he sees I’ve noticed. I tried to get the license plate but it was covered in mud.” He scoffs. “We haven’t had any rain in months.”

Jack has him describe the vehicle and where he’s seen it, while you take notes.

“Alright, Mr. Peterson. We’ll be in touch if we have any other questions.”

“Thank you. Oh—here.” He hands you a pair of vouchers for a free wine tasting. “They come with the tour. One thing you should know about Napa—you’ll only really blend in if you’ve got a glass of wine in your hand.”

Jack’s code name is Whiskey for a reason. He’s a spirits man through and through and he doesn’t give the tasting room a second look, ushering you out to get back to your room to regroup. Admittedly, it’s only 10 AM, but you would have enjoyed a few sips of merlot. You’re craning your neck a little to look at the wine list posted by the door—just out of curiosity—when he startles you by taking your hand in his. You look at him. He’s staring ahead, holding your hand like it’s nothing as you walk side by side. Finally, your brain catches up and your nine credits of college acting classes kick in and you plaster a loving smile onto your face, leaning closer.

In the privacy of your little rented cottage, you pull out your notes again to review.

“Peterson is lying about something,” you start. Jack nods distractedly.

“Yeah—listen, before we get into that, I need to ask you. You jumped when I held your hand back there,” he observes.

You feel your face heat with embarrassment. He’s calling you out on your inexperience, the rookie agent who can’t even play-act for a simple assignment. You can do it, you know. Being undercover in the field is just still new to you. He could help you instead of being critical.

“Sorry—”

“It’s my opinion,” he says, with a slight frown, “that a man who doesn’t treat his wife a certain way is no man at all.”

You’re lost, suddenly. “Sorry?”

“What I’m askin’ is, do I have your permission to touch you like you’re my wife when other people are around?”

Oh.

Something about the way he’s worded it makes your stomach do a little flip.

“Oh. Yes. Touch me like…?” You swallow. “Like how, exactly?”

He gives you a steady look.

“Intimately.”

That’s fine. You’re fine with that.

“Right. That’s—” you nod, maybe a little too emphatically. “That’s okay.”

You look down, fingering the pages of your notebook again, trying to refocus on the more analytical side of the job, when another thought occurs to you.

“Are you going to kiss me?” you blurt.

“Shit, Violet, that’s part and parcel of it.”

“It’s Violette,” you tell him with a frown.

“Sorry.”

“Do you even know my real name?”

“Of course I do,” he says. You don’t push it but you also don’t know whether to believe him. He’s shown little interest in working with you this entire week.

Jack takes a step towards you.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he says. “So you don’t jump like a rabbit when I do it in public.”

You take a breath. Suck your bottom lip between your teeth involuntarily.

“Okay,” you tell him.

Your eyes fall shut as he leans in. You feel his fingers steadying your chin, tilting your face to meet his, and then his lips touching your mouth, light, tentative—teasing, your mind prompts, and the thought makes you feel flushed again. When you don’t shy away he presses closer and you’re not sure which of you is to blame when your lips part and his tongue brushes yours.

You were expecting it, so you don’t jump, but you feel a little trembly when he pulls away. He doesn’t step back right away—instead, his lips hover over your skin, mustache coarse against your soft cheek, as he tucks his mouth by your ear and quietly, intimately, says your name.

“So you think Peterson is lying,” he says, picking up the thread from before.

“Um,” you say, forcing your brain to switch back to work mode. Your whole body feels warm. “Yes. Don’t you think he seemed shady?”

Jack shrugs. “Call me jaded, I think most people are shady. But I agree with you. He lied about the missing letter. I fuckin’ hate when clients do that. What do you think about the blue truck he saw?”

“I think that could be something.”

You open your laptop and with a few keystrokes you’ve used a Statesman backdoor into the DMV system, where you enter the make, model, and color of the vehicle Peterson had described. There are no matching hits within Napa County, so you expand the search. It’s an unpopular color, so there are only a few dozen matches in the state. None of the owners’ names are on the list of suspects you’ve been given.

“He said he hasn’t seen it around town, only driving by his property. And we don’t know who owns it. So how do we find the car?” you wonder.

Jack is silent for a minute. You watch as a slow smile spreads across his face.

“I have an idea.”

This case originated at Statesman’s Kentucky headquarters, so Agent Ginger Ale is your tech liaison. It’s clear from their dynamic that she and Agent Whiskey have worked together before. Having her voice in your ear is a source of comfort as you carry out Jack’s great idea—which you’re not 100% sure you’re on board with.

“Don’t you need some kind of license to operate this?” you ask tentatively.

“Technically, on paper, he has one,” Ginger offers. “Well, Johnny Davenport does, anyway. As of twenty minutes ago.”

“It’s a balloon and a basket, how complicated could it be,” Jack grouses. This doesn’t exactly raise your confidence.

“Just don’t crash this one, Jack,” she pleads.

“This one?!”

He shakes his head. “You have one helicopter fail on you and they never let you live it down. Don’t listen to Ginger.”

To his credit, Jack pilots the hot air balloon much more smoothly than you’d expected, and after some time you feel yourself relaxing and enjoying the view. It’s early October and the landscape is a mix of green and brown from the last of the summer heat. Tidy rows of grape vines are bordered by houses and larger wineries, copses of trees, and fields dotted with grazing cows. Tiny workers move methodically among the vines, busy harvesting fruit to be pressed and fermented. Through it all, highways and winding roads run alongside the properties, and this is where you refocus your attention.

Ginger has programmed your binoculars to register any vehicles matching the description of the blue truck you’re seeking. You train the lenses on the backroads and driveways, looking for private hiding places it could be stashed.

The whole endeavor feels like a long shot, and you’re just on the verge of suggesting you give up and head back to base when the binocs let out a high-pitched beep of recognition, zooming in on your target.

“Holy shit,” you whisper. “I can’t believe this worked.”

“I told you it would,” Jack says, looking smug. “What is that place?”

Ginger has looked up the coordinates before you have a chance to do it yourself.

“It’s a winery… Double Loop Vineyards. Do you guys know that name?”

You recognize it immediately. The owner is one of the names on Bill Peterson’s list of suspects.

You and Jack exchange a look.

“Guess we’re goin’ wine tasting at Double Loop,” he says, and he turns to start your descent.

The tasting room at Double Loop Vineyards is a large, tastefully decorated space that looks like it was converted from an old barn. It’s all dark wood and ceiling beams, and a bar runs along the back and right side walls. When you and Jack step inside, you’re greeted by a tall young woman with a pixie haircut and striking cheekbones. She’s wearing a name tag that reads Eva.

You settle in front of her at the bar and she pulls out a pair of glasses and pours a splash of white into each to get you started. You take a sip and peruse the small menu on the bartop.

“She’ll have the red flight,” Jack says, “And I’ll just have a glass. Can you recommend me something… full-bodied?”

As he says it he palms your hip suggestively, pulling you to him a little closer. You laugh, mortified but amused despite yourself, and he shoots you a wink.

Eva takes it in stride. “I can offer you a cabernet sauvignon that’s got legs for days.”

“That’ll do me just fine, thank you.”

You’re the only visitors in the tasting room for the moment so you have her undivided attention. She’s skilled at making small talk to keep you charmed and at ease; eventually she asks something more personal.

“So I’m planning to propose to my girlfriend soon,” she tells you. “And I’m trying to figure out how to do it. I’m like crowdsourcing ideas. You two are such a cute couple—can I ask how you got engaged?”

You and Jack exchange a glance and you give him a sweet smile. “You tell it, honey.”

“Well,” he says, keeping his eyes on you for a long moment before he finally looks away to face Eva, “I knew I wanted to marry her, and I had this whole plan in mind. I wanted something special for my Violet so I was going to take her on a trip—my buddy has this little cabin on the most beautiful lake you’ve ever seen—and make her favorite dinner, and sit down with a glass of something nice. And then I was going to present her with this beautiful piece of hand-carved wood that spelled out, Will. You. Marry. Me.”

He pauses to take a sip of his cab while Eva says, “Aww,” and looks at you like, what a sweet partner you have.

“Now the thing is,” he continues, warming up to the story, “as Violet can tell you herself, I have never carved a single thing in my life. And somehow, like a dumbass, I was convinced I could make this plaque and do it perfectly. But it looked just awful. And it was taking me so long trying to get it right I could tell she was starting to wonder if I was stringing her along.”

You shake your head in protest and he laughs. “You were! You’d look at me like, why has this fool not married me yet.”

Eva laughs, too. “So what happened?”

Jack lets out an aggrieved sigh. “What happened was, I caught the flu. Just the most dog-sick, pathetic man, all sweaty with fever and miserable to boot. And Violet never hesitated, she bundled me up and cooked me soup and tolerated my whining and she’d read me to sleep when my eyes couldn’t even focus on the TV. And somewhere in the middle of all that, I thought, I need to hold on to this woman forever, and I asked her right then and there.”

His voice cracks a little on the last sentence and you’re shocked to realize your own eyes are damp with tears. You’re not sure which part, or how much, but something in that story sounded true and it’s left you with a strange sense of heartache. You lift his hand to your mouth and press a kiss across his knuckles, watching his face soften.

“Okay,” Eva says. “So I guess I’ll add ‘get the flu’ to my list of ideas.”

“I don’t recommend it,” Jack tells her, “but I don’t not recommend it.”

As you finish your flight and Eva rings up a couple of bottles you’ve chosen to purchase—you’re not sure if these classify as company expenses, but you enjoyed them enough you’ll pay out of pocket if you must—she asks where else in the wine country you’ve been to so far.

“We spent some time at the winery right next to the place we’re staying—actually, we got to meet the owner there, what was his name, baby?”

You keep your tone casual, but you watch her face as you reply. “Bill Peterson, I think it was?”

Eva’s expression falters, just for a moment, before she recovers and plasters on a polite smile. “They’ve got a great pinot noir over there.”

“Not as good as these,” you tell her, just to see her smile turn genuine.

A tour group walks in just then so you take your leave and step outside into the late afternoon sunshine. When Jack takes your hand this time you let him, and you don’t mind it.

The blue truck is parked out back. You walk along the side of the building, just a pair of happy tourists slightly buzzed on red wine out to take in the view, until you get close enough to make note of the license plate. Back in your own car, you run a search on it and identify the owner: a young man named Lucas Trent. The address on the registration is in Paso Robles, a town 250 miles south of here, but you do some digging and find he’s a vineyard worker at Double Loop.

“So what’s the connection to Peterson?” Jack wonders.

“Look at this.” You point at the screen and he squints. “He’s only been at Double Loop for six months. Before that—”

“He worked for Peterson,” Jack finishes. “So he’s mad about getting fired and wants to get back at his old boss.”

“Maybe,” you say, frowning. “We don’t really know yet. But it’s a theory.”

“It’s a good theory,” he insists.

The two of you sit in silence for a few moments, mulling it over.

“Tell me this, rookie,” he says. “You ever been on a stakeout?”

On your first ever stakeout that evening, you quickly learn a few things:

Stakeouts are cold. Stakeouts are boring. And rental cars are not designed to accommodate them.

You shift uncomfortably for the fifth time in twenty minutes.

“How do we even know he’ll show up tonight?” you ask. In the quiet of the night you keep your voice hushed.

“Call it intuition,” Jack says. You can tell he hates sitting still this long, too, but he’s clearly built up a tolerance for it over the years, because he’s not wriggling around nearly as much as you.

“Can I ask you something?”

He grunts an assent.

“That story about how you proposed—how did you come up with that?”

He pauses.

“I just—made it up,” he says.

“I thought it seemed…” you start. He gives you a sidelong glance. “Never mind. You’re a good improviser.”

After a minute, he says, “I was engaged once. A long time ago.”

“Oh.” You bite your cheek, holding back your questions.

“She died,” he adds. Your heart drops.

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Of course,” you say, helplessly.

Never in your life have you been more grateful to see a criminal approaching than when you see the familiar shape of Lucas Trent’s blue truck appear down the road.

“Ha,” Jack says, looking a little less glum. “What’d I tell you. Intuition never fails me.”

You take deep, silent breaths, trying to control your fast-beating heart as you creep behind Jack to follow Lucas inside the building. He’s got a key to Peterson’s winery; he must have stolen it before he left the job, you think. He heads down the hall, past Peterson’s office, and disappears behind a door.

Jack motions for you to wait a moment, listening intently outside the door. You hear nothing but the quiet thump of Lucas’s footsteps, growing fainter until there’s only silence, and finally Jack eases open the door. You’re faced with a short flight of stairs heading down into a cellar. The two of you tiptoe down the stairs.

You nearly bump into Jack at the bottom when he stops dead in his tracks, still hidden in the shadows. Peering around him, you see that Lucas isn’t alone in the room. Bill Peterson is here, too, standing next to a small wooden desk.

“What the fuck do you want?” Bill demands. Lucas stares at him sullenly. “You came here to steal from me, didn’t you? You didn’t think I’d be down here.”

“I just want what’s mine,” the young man growls. “You’re the thief, not me.”

Lucas steps further into the room, toward the back wall. The space is filled with racks of carefully preserved wine bottles—Peterson’s precious collection, you register—and a pile of empty wooden barrels, stacked two high.

“Those bottles are insured,” Peterson calls after him. “You’ll get caught if you try to sell them.”

Lucas says nothing, just continues walking until he reaches the wall. At the back of the cellar, he pushes aside a tapestry to reveal a combination safe embedded in the wall. He glances over his shoulder with a smirk, and punches in the code.

“How the fuck do you know that number?” Peterson roars, finally scared. He rushes past the racks of wine, suddenly worthless compared to whatever is on the flash drive Lucas has just retrieved from the safe. When they start to tussle over it, Jack finally steps in.

“Hey!” he yells, striding into the light. The men look over, startled, and then Peterson looks relieved. He lets go of Lucas, seemingly confident that his hired security will take care of the situation, and retreats to stand next to Jack.

“Get that back from him,” he tells him. Jack gives him a long, unimpressed look, and then turns his focus on Lucas, who’s starting to look slightly panicky now that he’s outnumbered.

“Listen, son. This will all go a lot easier if you just put that back where you found it and walk out of here with me.”

“You don’t understand,” Lucas protests. “He’s stealing from everyone. This is the proof.”

Peterson shifts on his feet, looking guilty. “Bullshit,” he says. “You resent me for being the boss, but I’ve worked for every penny I’ve got.”

Lucas lets out a humorless, disbelieving laugh. “Yeah, you work real hard. You must break a sweat making copies of your accounts so you can lie about the numbers. I bet you have blisters on your hands from shortchanging your workers.”

Jack makes a mistake here—he takes his eyes off the suspect to look at Mr. Peterson in a new light, trying to gauge which of them is telling the truth. And in that split second, to your horror, Lucas hurtles forward and shoves the stacked wine barrels, hard, knocking both Jack and Peterson onto the ground.

You make a mistake, too, and he gets on your case about it afterwards. You let Lucas slip past you in your rush to reach Jack’s side. He looks dazed and angry and his legs are trapped under the hundred-pound barrel. Gathering your strength, you lift it off of him and set it upright, then fall to your knees to check him over.

“Jack! Are you alright?” You feel carefully along his legs, then gently at the back of his head, running your fingers over his scalp to check for bumps or bleeding.

“I’m okay,” he mutters. “I didn’t hit my head.” But he winces as you help him up, and he’s moving a little gingerly when he takes a step. “Might’ve tweaked my ankle,” he admits.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Peterson yells. “You let that little shit get away with my property.”

“Let me ask you this, Mr. Peterson,” Jack growls. “Was it true what he said, about the double accounts?”

“I don’t see how that matters,” he insists angrily. “I hired you to do a job, and I expected a lot better.”

“I’ll tell you why it matters,” Jack tells him. “I don’t work for people who lie to me. Consider the contract dissolved. You can get your ‘property’ back on your own.”

“Actually, you got lucky, Mr. Peterson,” you call back over your shoulder as you help Jack walk over to the stairs. “If we had gotten our hands on that drive, we would have been obligated to turn it over to the IRS. Statesman has connections in the government, too, you know.”

And with that, you leave him sputtering and pale, alone with his precious wine.

It’s 3 AM when you get back to the room. Jack’s ankle isn’t broken, just twisted. You’d made him wait in the car while you stopped at a 24-hour convenience store to get ice on the way, so now you get him tucked into bed with his foot elevated and a baggie of ice draped over his ankle. He’s clearly still peeved over how things went down with Peterson, but he also looks amused watching you play nursemaid for him.

“You know, I’ve been hurt a hell of a lot worse than this before,” he tells you. “I can take care of myself.”

You give him an unimpressed look. “Getting badly injured isn’t the brag you think it is,” you counter. “And… you shouldn’t have to take care of it alone. That’s what I’m here for. I know you think I’m just a rookie, but—for this job, we’re partners, right?”

He’s silent for a beat, but then he nods.

Jack is still awake and waiting for you when you return from the bathroom in your pajamas. As you climb into your side of the bed, he says, “I don’t think you’re just a rookie. You did a good job on this case.”

The room is dark but there’s moonlight streaming in through the window, casting a beam of light across his face on the pillow. He’s looking at you. You look back.

“Thank you,” you tell him finally.

“Thanks for the ice,” he returns. He lets out a sigh as his eyes drift shut, and as you follow suit you feel his hand reach out and intertwine with yours.

“G’night, Violet,” he murmurs.

“Goodnight, Johnny.”

He laughs, and you grin in the dark, and you hold on tight.

#pedrostories #pedrostoriesgift23 #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey x reader #pedro pascal #kingsman fanfiction #my fic #fanfiction

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changbinsboiledegg · 7 months

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Hey :D

May I request headcanons with bf! Felix when is a kind of some home person if you get me. I mean really calm, introverted, have few friends, carrying and love to cook sweets ^^

Aw this is so cute! Thank you for the request and I'm sorry if it's too short or if they don't make sense :((( 🫶🫶

BF! Felix w/ GN! introverted S/O.

Warnings: None? It's just fluffy headcanons.

Note: I'm an introvert so if I said anything offensive here, I promise I didn't mean it in a bad way!!!! I also held back on any introvert jokes because I know all of us introverts are not the same LMAO anyways, I hope y'all enjoy and as always, ILY. Take care 🫶

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

➫ I see Felix as a calm person so catch him vibing with a calm and introverted S/O.

➫ “I’m hanging out with my friend today.”

➫ Cue the “You have friends?” joke. Felix never means them in a rude way though. I just see him as a playful person (and calm), so expect a ton of jokes. Whether you’re the type to joke back with him or not, you’re both still everybody’s relationship goal.

➫ “Imagine being an extrovert.” - “Imagine being an introvert.”

➫ No but if you’re a caring person and he’s a caring person… Who cares for who?

➫ Both.

➫ Felix is feeling homesick? You’re already available and there to cheer him up in any way, giving him things that remind him of home or letting him tell stories/ swapping stories.

➫ You’re feeling down and don’t want to go outside? Felix has you covered. Your place is like his second home and so he has a spare key. If you’re a ‘hug’ type person, he’ll definitely have his arms around you until you decide you don’t want to hug any longer. If you’re not a ‘touchy’ type of person, Felix is ready to just listen to anything you have to say and offers words of encouragement and orders takeout so you won’t have to cook while you’re feeling down.

➫ I can see him also cooking for you himself. Depends on what you’re craving.

➫ You’re a homebody so dates out and about are pretty rare and once every week or two. The majority of your time spent together consists of cuddles on the couch or bed or a blanket on the floor while watching Netflix, Hulu, YouTube, or breaking out the DVD player to watch a movie or TV show you both like.

➫ Let’s not forget baking. Sweets are a must. You and Felix swap recipes and dedicate entire days to make and try each others ‘recipe of the day’.

➫ One time Felix suggested a bake off and now you two have an annual monthly bake off. But he always let’s you win so you had to get other judges to determine this. Whoever has the highest number of wins is up to you.

➫ Felix would also order for you when out at restaurants, call certain places for you, fix an order that was wrong because he knows you want to avoid the social interactions that come with getting the thing you ordered.

➫ “It’s okay, I’m fine with this.”

➫ “You paid for it. I’m going to get it corrected.”

➫ “No, seriously—” - “Sweetheart, I’m going to fix it.”

➫ Felix is not a Karen by the way!!!! He asked politely!!!!

➫ He just loves you and doesn’t want you to settle for less. ♡

#stray kids felix x reader #skz felix x reader #skz felix fluff #stray kids felix fluff #skz headcanons #stray kids headcanons #stray kids x reader #skz imagines #skz x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids reactions #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fluff

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naturesapphic · 1 month

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you wanted Tiffany requests and here I am!!! you could write one where Tiffany is in love with a shy girl (and the girl is in love with her too), but Tiffany thinks the girl doesn't feel the same, but in the end finds out it's definitely not that?

sorry for disturbing u and that's def okay if you can't do that. daily remember: you're an amazing writer 🥰

Too shy

Tiffany valentine x shy!fem!reader

Warnings: cussing and fluff

A/n: I hope it’s okay that I did a Headcannon with this, I couldn’t get an idea of how to fully write this so I just made this into a Headcannon. I hope you still enjoy it anon! :)

- Tiffany and you met when you were moving in into the trailer park

- you were very introverted and shy and Tiffany took notice in that and thought it was very cute

- she took a liking to you instantly

- she loves how shy and awkward you are

- it makes her feel more dominant and have control over you, not in a mean way, she just wants to care for you

- you started hanging over at her place a lot since on your first day here at the trailer park, Tiffany immediately became friends with you

- you couldn’t believe a cool, pretty, goth girl wanted to be your friend

- you started getting feelings for her very early into the friendship like Tiffany did

- as time passed, the feelings for each other became stronger and likeness turned into love

- y’all spent every moment together and when y’all didn’t, the both of you longed for the others presence

- Tiffany wanted to ask you out so bad but she didn’t think you liked her

- but that was far from the truth, you were deeply immersed with her

- so one day Tiffany got the courage to ask you out and it was the cutest thing to her was your reaction

- “y/n? Will you go out on a date with me?” Tiffany said nervously

- your face was beyond shocked and filled with surprise and Tiffany was nervous by it

- you finally snapped out of it when you saw how sad Tiffany looked

- “y-yes! P-please I w-would love to t-tiff…” you nervously stuttered out as a big blush covered your cheeks

- Tiffany was beyond happy and was jumping up and down as you kept blushing wildly

- “i-im sorry I d-didn’t s-say anything before t-tiff….you know h-how shy I am and I-I got scared that you didn’t f-feel the same. I-I couldn’t risk losing you…” you quietly said as you looked down at your feet

- she cooed softly and gently lifted your head up with her hands and looked deep in your eyes

- “you have nothing to apologize for doll. I know how you are and it’s okay! Im just glad I finally said something, don’t want someone else to sweep you off your feet.” She giggled out

- “Now. Go put on a cute dress on sugar. I’ll come over at your house in a few minutes to pick you up!” Tiffany said as she gently ushered you out of her house and gave you a big kiss on your cheek

- oh how glad you were that Tiffany got the courage to ask you out

A/n: I hope the anon and the rest of y’all liked it! and anon you never disturb me don’t worry! Thank you for your request and for your kind words

Requests are still open for all of my characters including of course Rhea ripley/Demi Bennett. I have my own buy me a coffee page! You can give me a dollar and it will help. I also have some different commission types I will do so here's my page to look into it :) https://www.buymeacoffee.com/naturesapphic Requests are open for yeehaw!wanda, country!wanda, and any other southern variants of Wanda or Natasha! Remember to stay hydrated and to rest! I love y'all!

#tiffany valentine x fem!reader #tiffany ray valentine #tiffany #tiffany valentine #tiffany valentine x reader #jennifer tilly x fem!reader #jennifer tilly x reader #jennifer tilly #seed of chucky #chucky #bride of chucky

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apprenticestanheight · 3 months

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Imagine rimming/pegging Adam for the first time and hes all sarcastic and sassy like convinced he wont really like it even saying youre a perv (like the smart ass he is), then the second you start hes whimpering like a bitch and spreading his legs and begging for more <3

Pegging Adam Stanheight Headcanons + blurb

OH MY GOD ANON thank you for opening the floodgates with this one. It feels like it's been AGES since I last wrote for Adam (i've spent a lot of my time focused on an AU with Lawrence and trying to get a couple ideas for other characters to work on on my off days lol) and writing a fic involving pegging just felt like the right move to make so--here's this??

I also also also am SUPER SORRY for how long this has taken--if you've looked at my blog since I started last week, you'd know I work a really fuckin weird rotating schedule and twelve hour days. This has been marinating in my inbox since before I started working, however, and before then I was just demotivated and so anxious it borderlined upon debilitating. I really hope you enjoy this one and that it makes up for the time you spent waiting for it to come out. Also hope you're okay with headcanons and a little bit of a blurb as the fic format, as it made more sense mentally for me to do it that way.

Fic type - this one is SMUT!! y'all should know what that means by now, too--minors, GO AWAY!! This fic is for those 18+ and if I see you interacting I will not hesitate with my bestie, the block button.

Warnings - pegging, praise, begging, the use of a strap-on, I wanted to get this out today so it's also unedited, and again, MDNI!!

All right, to start, you are the one who finds it interesting first. You spend a solid week wherein all of your horniest thoughts consist of Adam pinned to the bed beneath you, one of your hands holding his chin while he whimpers bc the strap-on you're using is so big and you're moving at a pace that's so slow he almost hates it.

Adam finds it mildly interesting--he's thought about it once, decided he might not like it but also decides to bring it up to you one random night bc you're both high, exhausted, and horny.

So, now you're wondering how it gets brought up, right?

WHHAAAAAAAAAAALEEEEEE, Adam brings it up half asleep, when you're both in the aforementioned state of high and horny and also very exhausted.

"How would you feel about pegging, baby?" and then you're pulling him close bc he's not close enough (his chin is tucked into the crook of your neck and you can smell the mint and cigarettes that he emanates even when he's not smoking. You just want to meld yourself to him bc when you get high, yeah time ceases to be something you believe in but when you're high with Adam you're the clingiest person Jersey ever did see)

and you're saying "yeah, that would be fun, Adam," bc it has consumed your thoughts wholly for a solid two or three weeks by then, but you're wanting to be chill about it.

both of you are completely out to the world like, five minutes thereafter.

It does, however, get brought up the next night. He agrees to it pretty easily, says that the two of you can try it the next time you have sex and if neither of you like it then that's that, and if he doesn't like it, then you respect his boundaries enough to respect that about him.

You buy a strap-on on a compete whim from a sex shop near your apartment on a random wednesday, buy lube that day too bc sex safety and all.

Both of them wind up being used on a friday night, when Adam is stressed bc post-saw vet school has taken it's toll and if he has to study one more minute, he'll lose his mind.

You have dom/sub dynamics in the sexual aspect of your bedroom and both of you are switches, and Adam asks if you have the necessary things to peg him and laughs when your face just lights up at the idea.

You prep him, and the entire time that goes on, Adams like "I'm unsure about how this'll feel, but if it's not my thing, meh. I don't think I'll like it but trying it will have been decent, at least."

AND THEN YOU START

and Adam is still thinking he's probably not gonna enjoy it as much as you will.

"When did you become such a perv, baby?" is said by him in a few different variations when you're prepping + rimming him. It eggs you on and he knows that, wants whatever comes with it.

And then, you actually start pegging him--the strap-on you bought is a fairly large eight inches in length, a fairly thick girth, and blue just because, and seeing him beneath you is probably akin to seeing the handsomest man to ever exist?? maybe??

SO ANYWAY, you start, and Adam goes from thinking he won't really like it to needing you to bottom out like, instantly. He likes how it feels to be split open in that way, doesn't so much as TRY to hold back his moans.

He does try to look away, though--he's loud and proud of it but also somewhat embarrassed bc he's not really one to be submissive in the relationship (you work in marketing and deal with people all day so you come home wanting to be fucked into thoughtlessness more than he)

you, however, don't let him, and when you push into him another inch and a half, he moans lewdly while staring directly at you. it's one of the hottest things you've ever seen.

When you finally bottom out, pressing a kiss to the sweet spot on his neck as one of your hands goes to his cock, Adam is feeling so amazing that he's convinced he'll start seeing stars.

You've heard Adam beg but a few times since you'd started dating, and it's been amazing every single time.

That night, he begs so much that you're sure you could bottle it and use it to get black-out drunk, should you have pleased.

He spreads his legs a bit more to let you have better access and moans when you start from a different but better angle.

He becomes a mess SO QUICKLY TOO IT'S THE FUCKING HOTTEST THING

all in all?? pegging him is one of the best decisions you could've made for your relationship bc both of you love it so much

"Oh my God, Y/N," he's moaning, helplessly, as you thrust quickly into him. "Oh my God. Please, please, please don't stop. Please--fuck."

"I know," you kiss the sweet spot on his neck, quickening the pace of your hand on his dick. "You're taking me so good, Adam. This is one of the best things I've ever seen. You're so hot, beneath me and begging to come, mm?"

Adam is so blissed out that he's almost not thinking, and when he comes he already knows he's gonna be a thoughtless mess from your ministrations. He's cock-drunk, loving the way that your strap-on fills him up and never wanting that to end.

"Fuck," he moans, not even trying to suppress the sound. "So close, Y/N. I'm--ah!"

You laugh, kissing his cheekbone as ropes of his come spurt from his dick and paint his stomach.

"You're so cute when you're cock-drunk like that," you laugh again. "You liked it?"

You're pulling out of him, slowly, as he nods. "Yeah," he says. "I loved it, actually."

You clean up his stomach and clean up yourself, having come from the feeling of the strap-on against your clit and the sound of Adams moans. When you climb into bed with him again, he pulls you close and holds you tightly.

"I love you, Y/N," he says.

"I love you too, Adam," is your, admittedly very exhausted sounding, response. "Next time I peg you, you're riding me while I sit with my back against the headboard. You love that position when I'm the one doing the riding, and I wanna know what the fuss is about."

Adam laughs, kisses your collarbone and gives your ass a cheeky little smack in form of a response.

You fall asleep not soon after, naked and cozy in each others arms.

#adam stanheight #adam stanheight x reader #saw (2004)

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andreafmn · 10 months

Text

Bound | Prologue

Word Count: 4.3K Warnings: mentions of death

Summary: Rosalie always carried the resentment of not being able to fulfill the image of the perfect family she had in her head. But the universe had set out to grant her everything she could've hoped for in the most unconventional way and in the form of a witch. Can their love withstand the promise of forever or will Rosalie and (Y/N) succumb to the grapples of time?

A/N: I know this isn't exactly a request, but since it's based on one I decided to post it today😬 anyway, hope y'all enjoy this story as much as I do. We are definitely lacking in the Rosalie fic department. Also, this chap doesn't include reader nor Rosalie, it's a way to explain bounded souls. If you read the oneshot, then this is the story Margaret tells (Y/N) in the beginning. 💖💖

Next ->

Certain mysteries in the universe had always been unexplainable. Further than the existence of vampires and werewolves, witches and wizards, hybrids, and more, one thing remained too complex to understand–even to the most brilliant of minds.

Soulmates.

The intricacy of how two souls were bound together by the universe boggled everyone. The only certain thing was that there was a word for it that spread across languages, cultures, and even species. But all of them concorded in one thing, this particular bond linked you to a person for the rest of your life.

Yet, it was almost unheard of for this connection to transcend species. Unheard of, yes, but not impossible. And it was those unique cases that crumbled any understanding there was about soulmates. Those exceptions that broke every single rule.

Esther Haight and Samuel Leighton were one of those exceptions. A witch and a vampire, natural-born enemies selected to be paired for eternity. And they had decided to answer the calling with love.

The girl was a descendant of a Salem witch that had fled North during the trials, forced to hide her magic and live in seclusion amidst the forests. Esther had been taught her wiccan roots under candlelight and whispered spells. She spent her entire childhood living in fear, looking over her shoulder. But as time went on she grew used to concealing her true self. There was no need to listen to the shadows, she could feel their energy before they ever neared. Despite her fear, she grew strong and powerful.

But there was something always missing.

“I understand not, mother,” she had asked one day. “I hast all's I could possibly crave, yet I still feel empty. There’s something inside me that is lacking.”

“Worry not, my child,” her mother had answered with a smile. “What thou are feeling is the tug of thy bound soul.”

“What is a bound soul, mother?”

“When we are born and reborn, fragments of our souls scatter and sink into the lives of others,” the woman continued, running her fingers through her daughter’s long hair. “It tethers 'em to us. Those are our soul mates. Thou might meet some of 'em as thou grow, or thou might meet none. Yet no connection shall aye be as firm-set as the bonded soul.

Not many are thrifty enough to find 'em 'i one lifetime, for't is not a primrose feat to discover the other half of thy heart. Yet the thrifty few that doth experience a love like no other. A once-in-a-lifetime kind of love”

That phrase had stuck in Esther’s heart. A once-in-a-lifetime sort of love; the kind of love poets wrote about. She dreamed of that love and wondered if she would be one of those lucky few. Though, as time dwindled on she feared there would be no chance.

One year, then two, then four. Years and years with no sign of her bound soul. Yet, that wasn’t a startling realization as the fact that her face had remained the same throughout that time. Esther saw as her mother’s hair started to pepper with white curls, how the wrinkles by her eyes deepened, how the woman’s body grew weaker. And still, she remained in the same skin as her twenty-two-year-old self.

“Yet, mother, how could this be?” Esther worried on what was supposed to be her thirtieth birthday. “I am witness to thy age and yet, I hast not changed a day 'i years now. Is't a curse?”

“I warrant thou, mine dear, that no dark magic hath been bestowed upon thou,” the woman cooed. “Although I never hast an explanation for what is happening thee, I say to thou that there hath been no harm thee”

“What if this continues, then, mother? What would I doth would I lost thou?”

“Mortality is not something to be afeared of, mine child,” she said with a smile. “We all return to Mother Earth one day. And would she so allows it, we shall walk amongst her children once more.”

“I can’t do this without thou, mother,” the girl silently cried. “I canst not lose thou too.”

“Mine darling, even when I am gone I shall aye be with thou,” the woman responded, drying her daughter’s tears. “As thy father is right now, I shall be in the trees, I shall be in the chirping of the birds, I shall be in the beating of thy heart. The universe hath granted thou a gift, and it is thy job to understand the why. Haply it is an answer to thy deepest desire.”

Two trips around the sun passed before she would get her response. Esther didn’t understand how immortality could be a gift. How could watching the only family she had left get older as she did not be a present?

But she never thought she would find what she was looking for in a vampire. Much less as she washed her clothes in the river, something she had done many times before.

It had been a quiet morning. Nothing alluded to a meeting that would change the course of her life. She had awoken in the earlier hours of the morning, gathering the week’s laundry to tread down to the brook near her family’s concealed shack. Her chores provided her the only escape she had to the confines of their home and she was always glad to do them.

As she had finally settled on the ground, the wicker basket of clothes on her right and an empty one on her left, Esther set to work. Her ears were filled with the rush of the water and the whistling of the wind; she could feel the energy that lived in the ground; she was energized by the rays of sunlight that warmed her face. The elements surrounded her and it made her feel serene.

Until a splashing startled her, her hands extending in a protective stance, ready to defend herself against any assailant. Esther prepared herself for a fight that never came.

“Woah there,” a melodious voice chuckled. “I come in peace, fair maiden.”

“Who are thou?” Esther asked, her hands shielding her from the man. “How did thou find here?”

“Well, I never meant to,” he continued, a joking tone still laced in his words. “I was escaping hunters and I somehow ended up hither. I promise I mean no harm. Mine name is Samuel and I mean no harm to anyone that hath not harmed me.”

For some reason, Esther believed him. The stranger she had yet to truly look at and had somehow known her identity, she trusted. Her hands lowered, the elements around her calming as her heartbeat did as well. She steadied her breath and finally looked up to meet the most striking red eyes she had ever seen.

“A vampire,” she breathed –it was not a question. There was a rush inside her, filling an empty crevice in the depths of her heart. It was him. “Who would have thought?”

“I’m sorry, I do not believe I got thy name,” Samuel smiled, taking tentative steps toward her. “A creature as beautiful as thou might not but have a name.”

“Esther,” she returned her smile, extending a hand to the shimmering man. “What a pleasure it is to meet thou.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” he said before he took her hand and placed his frozen-cold lips on her skin. His eyes studied her. They ran from her wild brown curls down to her bare feet, taking in every inch of her body he could. “I canst not receive I am in the presence of a Salem witch. Who would have thought mine day would end this way?”

“How did thou…?”

“Pardon me, ‘tis a gift,” Samuel grinned. “I learn things about a person with a simple touch.”

“A psychometrist vampire,” she mused. “How very intriguing.”

The pair remained silent for a moment, their hands still interlocked. They had felt a shift. Within them or in the Earth herself, they were not sure. But nothing was the same. There was a tug at their hearts they had not felt before; a tug that had replaced a certain emptiness in their chests.

Then, a rustling beyond the trees Samuel had jumped out of, startled them apart, their defenses going up once more.

“Well, as much as I’ve enjoyed talking to you, dearest Esther, I’m afraid I must go back to running,” he smiled before kissing her hand once again. “And I fear I must warn you to run as well. Humans don’t take too kindly to anyone that is different.”

“Oh, right, the hunters,” she grimaced. “You could come back to my cottage. It’s cloaked against the eyes of humans. They won’t find you there. And I’m sure my mother won’t mind.”

“Who am I to deny such a gesture? Not that I have much choice at the moment.”

Esther grabbed his cold hand with one hand and the basket with another and ran. She ran until the trees stopped whispering of dangers that lurked near; ran until she could breathe again. And it wasn’t until she passed the threshold of the safety circle her mother had cast upon their land that she allowed herself to calm.

And that very day, Samuel had come to her house and never left.

Esther’s mother had been apprehensive at first. The man was still a vampire at the end of the day. But once she understood why her daughter was so adamant about him staying, she couldn’t help but welcome the man with open arms. The universe had brought them together at the river for a reason and she would not stand in the way.

In time, they came to understand he was the explanation for Esther’s never-changing appearance. The unexplainable bond the young coupled shared made them one; synching their mind, body, and soul. For as long as Samuel lived, the girl would remain the same.

Their love grew slowly and then all at once. Whether it was the close confines or the inevitability of falling for the other, they didn’t know. And they didn’t care. They were completely head over heels for one another and it was undeniable. It was the thing of storybooks, perfection at every turn.

Until Samuel started to withdraw. His mind seemed to wander when they were together and his hunting trips seemed to draw on for more days than usual. It made Esther’s heart ache. Even the thought of losing him was too much for the girl. It made her soul shatter. Her mother had tried to console her daughter, to calm her worries until she was able to have a conversation with him. It did her no good to dwell on things she couldn’t answer for himself. Only he could kill her theories.

After six weeks of that behavior, she confronted him. Samuel had just come back from a three-day hunt, the thousand-yard stare still in his eyes. Before he could step foot into the cabin, Esther pulled him away. Far from her mother’s ears. If that was the end, she didn’t want the poor woman to bare witness.

“I need to know what is happening, Samuel,” she pleaded, her eyes already pooling with tears. “Are you planning on leaving me? Is that it?”

“How could you possibly think that?” He sounded hurt, even a little offended. “I would never do that. Not willingly.”

“Then, why hast thou been so disengaged? For weeks, your body is here but your mind is so far.” Esther’s head fell as she broke down. Samuel was everything she had prayed to the universe for, and she believed she was only seconds away from losing him. “Was it something I did?”

Samuel’s hands quickly cradled her cheeks, his cold fingers wiping away the tears that stained her beautiful cheeks. He smiled and placed a kiss on top of both of her eyelids. He could see just how bad he had been hurting her and he couldn’t keep the why in anymore. It was time to confess. “There is nothing in this world that thou could do to push me away, my love,” he said. “I will confess, my mind has been far but it has nothing to do with anything you could have done. It’s me.”

“What about you, Samuel? What did you do?”

“Thinking too much,” he chuckled dryly. “Thinking how you deserve better than me. How you deserve a man that can give you everything that I could never.”

“And what is that, my darling? What could any man give me that you can’t?” Esther cried. “You have already given me more love than I could have ever hoped for. What more could I want?”

“A family,” his voice broke. “A man that can give you children. A man you can walk with to town and hold his hand without being persecuted. A man that you can build an actual life with.”

“Have you thought of what I want, Samuel?” It was her turn to lift his head, her hands cradling his jaw tenderly. “Because I don’t want any of that if I don’t have you.”

“My heart doesn’t beat, darling!” Samuel exclaimed, turning from her touch as though it had burned him. “I don’t breathe, I don’t cry, I don’t even sweat! All I do is exist. All I will ever do is exist. The only thing that has given meaning to my life is you.”

“Then I shall be human enough for the both of us!” she yelled into the air, a smile tugging at her lips. “My eyes will cry for us; my lungs will breathe for us; my skin will weep for us; my heart will beat for us. I do not want immortality with anyone else but you.”

“But…”

“No buts, Samuel,” Esther interrupted him. “It’s you. It’s me. For eternity.”

“What of your legacy? Your line of witches can’t die here.”

“If it was my purpose to have children, my soul would not have found yours. And that is no reason for me to run into the arms of another man,” she said. Her eyes were trained on the red irises of his. They were filled with pain and regret, with disappointment for the man he was. There were only two words that could tell him just how much she loved him. “Marry me, Samuel. With my mother as a witness, marry me, and let me show you just how much you mean to me.”

“Esther, I can’t confine you to a life like this. You deserve the world and all I can offer you is this.”

“I’m not asking for anything more,” she smiled, closing the distance he had out between them. “If you say no, I will close myself in the cabin in protest. I will not marry, I will bear no children, and all of this will be naught.”

“And if I say yes?” Samuel finally cracked, a smile growing on his lips. “ What would happen if I say yes?”

“You would make me the happiest woman to walk this earth,” she responded. “I don’t want a life that you think I should have, Samuel. I want you and only you. Not for what you can’t give me, but for all that you already have.”

“Then yes,” he said before pressing their lips together. She tasted of honey and promises, and he was sure he could see forever with her. “A thousand times yes. I would marry you every day of our lives.”

“It’s you,” she whispered.

“It’s me,” he replied.

“For eternity,” they said in unison.

And so it was.

In a week's time, Esther was walking toward Samuel in a dress her mother had sewn, to meet her at the bank of the river they had first met. Hazel and red eyes stared into one another, twin smiles plastered on each of their faces. Even if it was just the two of them and Esther’s mother, they wouldn’t have had it any other way.

“Today is a special day,” the older woman started. “Today we bind for eternity two souls that have found each other by the will of the universe. A witch and a vampire –an unusual pair but perfectly complimented. We stand today before our Mother Earth to presence the love that has flourished between Esther Haight and Samuel Leighton. After today, you are no longer singular entities. From now on, you shall walk through life bound as a unit.

My darlings, please hold hands and answer truthfully to what I will ask” Esther’s mother produced a sage green ribbon and draped it over their joined hands, holding the ends as she recited the words. “Samuel, will you share in Esther’s pain and seek to ease and protect her from it?”

“I will,” he answered.

“Esther, will you share in Samuel’s joy, rejoice in it with him, and seek the best for him?”

“I will,” the girl smiled.

“Then let the binding be so,” the woman said as she tied one know around their hands. “Samuel, will you share in Esther’s hardships and turmoils so that you may evolve in the eye of trouble?”

“Yes, I will.”

“Esther, will you use every emotion, good or bad, to strengthen and withhold your bond with Samuel.”

“Yes, I will.”

“Then let the binding be so,” the older woman smiled, tying another knot. “Samuel, will you honor and respect Esther as an equal in this bond, every action and reaction coming from a place of love and never of hate?”

“Yes, I will,” he smiled brightly, his smile only growing as Esther repeated the same words a second later.

“Then let the binding be so,” the elder recited. “Now that the binding has been completed, it is time to seal this bond with the exchanging of your rings. I take it that you both have vows you wish to recite to each other. Samuel, you may start.”

Samuel reached into the pocket of his jacket, pulling out a gold band, and placing it just at the tip of Esther’s ring finger. “My dearest Esther, with this ring I promise to love and care for you for the rest of our lives. I promise to share in your joy and your pain, to carry your burdens and become a haven for your worries, to help you grow and navigate this life for eternity.”

He slid the ring down her slender finger, admiring the glimmer of it under the sun’s gleaming rays.

Esther’s mother handed the girl her ring and the same exchange took place. “My Samuel,” she smiled, tears already falling down her cheeks. “With this ring, I vow to love you for all of eternity. In this life and the next, shall our souls always find a way back to each other. I promise to love you and grow with you for all the years to come. I promise to share in the good things and the bad, in sickness and in health, and to help you navigate this world as our love grows.”

“Having proclaimed your vows with our Mother Goddess as your witness, I call upon the elements to help me bless this union for the rest of time,” the woman continued. “I call upon the Air from the East, to bless this couple with good thoughts and positivity. I call upon the Fire from the South, to erase their past and clear a new path. I call upon the Water from the West, for renewal and purification. And I call upon the Earth from the North, to bless this couple with balance and wisdom.”

As the words left the woman’s mouth the wind rustled the trees, the calm brook rushed its water downstream, fire surrounded them in a circle, and the earth shook beneath their feet. “Now, with Mother Earth’s blessing and the power vested in me by our Great Goddes, I pronounce you married. You may seal your promise with a kiss.”

Samuel’s hands snaked their way to cradle Esther’s kissing her deeply with a smile on his face. Flower petals rained on them, the elements surrounding the couple as they celebrated their union. It was a promise, from both the Earth and the Universe that they would look upon the couple for as long as they were bound.

“It’s you,” she whispered before kissing him again.

“It’s me,” he replied with another.

“For eternity.”

It was the happiest day of their lives. They had given themselves completely to each other, both body and soul, forever intertwined with their promise to each other. Nothing and no one could tear them apart.

In time, their love simply grew stronger. It was that love that kept them strong through the highs and the lows. The only thing that kept Esther strong once her mother passed. Samuel was her rock. He was the reason she was able to wake up every day after, and the reason she was able to welcome new people into the land she called her home.

As the years passed, word spread throughout the supernatural world of this couple, beaconing them toward them. Soon, the two-person household grew into a small community hidden deep within the forests of the state. Mostly witches seeking a safe haven made their homes in cabins built by Samuel and looked to Esther as a guiding mentor. Everything was perfect.

And it had been for the thirty years that they lived together. Until the day it was not.

Samuel took his time when hunting, but it was never more than a day or two. Being apart from Esther made him physically ill and there was not a second more that he ever wanted to spend away from her. But he had not returned when he was supposed to and she was almost certain she knew why.

That very day, she had felt something inside her empty, creating a harrowing void in the deepness of her chest. It had taken her breath away and made her heart skip a beat. Something was wrong, but she did not want to imagine what it was. Because her mind would break her heart before the news did.

It wasn’t until late in the night that a trusted messenger from the town had come riding into the small community. The man called for Esther, a solemn look on his face. And that was when her greatest fear had become her reality.

“I’m so sorry, ma’am,” he said, holding his hat against his chest. “It is Samuel.”

Esther clutched her hand to her chest, biting back the tears that threatened to break free. “What happened?” her voice croaked. “Where is his body?”

“I’m afraid some men had been on the hunt for his kind for quite some time, I think they heard about you two,” he answered. “As for his body, they already burned it, ma’am. That smoke you see past the trees is him and some other unlucky ones. I was only able to retreat this from his body.”

The man held out a glittering gold ring covered in soot. Samuel’s wedding ring. It felt too cold on her hand, colder than he ever had been. And it was the evidence of their bind being broken. His soul was no longer walking with her in that life and it would be waiting for her in their next lifetime.

Many tried to offer her consolation but she needed to be alone. The elements around her were growing unsteady and she had to find a place to burst. So, she ran. She ran as fast as she could. Her limbs were burning and her lungs were begging for air, but she continued running. She ran until she reached the very river that had seen the two monumental events in her life, and it would be witness to her latest.

Esther fell to her knees at the edge of the river, clutching at her chest as she let out the most agonizing scream she could. She could feel her magic weakening and that hollow shape in her chest grow more and more. Samuel had been and was supposed to be her everything for the rest of her life. And yet, someone else had decided against it. Someone she did not even know had decided that her forever would end that day.

She let herself break. Even as the skies parted and downpoured around her, she remained at the edge of the river wailing. The Great Mother was angry, she knew that. As lightning and thunder fell, she knew She was sharing in her anger and sadness. And all she could do was pray that Samuel’s soul reunited with her mother’s and that they looked upon her.

The weather remained that way for an entire week, mimicking Esther’s sentiments.

She locked herself in her home that entire time. Surrounded by the home they had created together. Esther did not come out once and everyone in the small village understood why. Losing a loved one was one thing, but she had lost a part of her soul that day. A piece that she could never again mend.

But, out of heartbreak came new beginnings. Though she always carried a void inside her, she was able to rebuild her life. Once she had started aging, she knew she had to take advantage of the fact that she was still alive. In time, she met another man. Abraham Bishop. He gave her what Samuel had always wanted for her. He gave her a legacy in the form of three daughters and a son.

As the times changed, so did the small village. The few cabins had expanded and grown, modernizing as the other towns did, but still protected by the forest. Her family grew, her face aged, the world changed.

And after a hundred and forty years, Esther Haight passed away.

“It’s you,” her shaky voice spoke to emptiness.

“It’s us,” a voice replied.

“For eternity,” they smiled.

Next ->

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misschimotosuwa-blog · 1 year

Text

Study Date Confession

Genre: fluff

Characters: Iruma-kun, Reader (fem), Opera, Sullivan, Alli (Gluttonous Feeder Ring)

T/W: none

A/N: wow, fanfic writing is fun, I see why y'all do it. I wrote this for some comfy feelings tonight, and it worked ☺️💕🥺 hope someone out there besides me enjoys this haha

Still the same Iruma I fell for ❤️

You’ve had a crush on Iruma for about 3 months now

No, not because he has been “standing out” or because he is the Grandson of the famous demon Sullivan — but because he’s shown and taught you things you’ve never known or realized before in the Netherworld

You’ve started studying together quite frequently — but you desire more — yet you’re still too shy to do anything about it

Today will be another study date with Iruma — this time, at his house

You finished up with class, then met up with him outside of The Royal One.

You then proceeded to WALK to his house?? You wonder why you would not fly? Does he want more time alone with you??

You blush hard as you continue the walk to his house.

You finally arrive

Wow his house is huge

You begin to show a concerned look on your face

Iruma notices, and reaches out his hand to you

“It’s alright (Y/N)” Iruma smiled and stretched out his hand to you. Ba-dump. Your heart began to race as you took his hand, and squeezed it tight as you continued through the gates of the Sullivan mansion.

An androgynous looking demon with cat ears and red hair opened the door for you. “Welcome home Iruma — and a welcome to you miss (Y/N)”. “Thanks Opera” Iruma gestured you through first, and Opera whispered something into Iruma’s ear that made him turn bright red as he rushed in right after you.

“Welcome home my darling Iruma!!” a tall elderly demon rushed to hug Iruma and spun him around. He set Iruma down “my goodness me, is this (Y/N), the demoness you’ve been spending all of your precious time with?? Ooooh how beautiful! Isn’t my Grandson just the GREATEST?!” “Grandpa!!!!” Opera grabbed Sullivan by the collar “we’ll be heading out for errands now”. “Awww but I wanna see this momentous occasion in my Grandson’s liiiiife…. Bye bye my sweet Iruma…..” The front door closed.

“Well, should we get to studying?” Iruma smiled awkwardly as your heart began to race even faster and harder. (We’re all alone now, oh my gosh oh my gosh… ok.. be cool… just be cool). “Yes, yes.. let’s do just that!” You stammered.

You and Iruma headed to his room

Geez it was enormous!

His bed was so luxurious and you were so tempted to jump right in

Iruma sat on his bed and opened his text book “so what should we study first?” He smiled at you. But today, you just couldn’t pay attention. Your heart just wouldn’t calm down. I mean, you’re in the boy you like’s room!! “I-I.. I need to use the restroom…” (what am I saying?!) You headed out the door to search for the restroom.

Meanwhile Iruma’s POV

Iruma flopped over onto his bed “…I wonder what’s up with (Y/N)… she’s been silent all day… did I upset her?”. Alli popped out of the glutoness feeder ring “my, I wonder?” “Huhh???” “It’s obvious, my dear little Iru.” “Wh..what’s obvious.” “You really don’t get it do you?” Alli face-palmed “the poor girl is in love.” “In Love? With who?” Alli sighed “with YOU!”. “Huh?! With me?!?! There’s no way.” “You really are clueless. Well, what’re you gonna do about it, small fry?” “Me? I.. I don’t know… I’ve never had a girl be in love with me before.. I’ve never even been on a date.. I was always too busy working back in the human realm. I’m not even sure I’ve ever had a crush on a girl — there just wasn’t any time. Well, what do you think I should do, Alli?” “Well, that depends on you. Do you fancy her too, hmm?” Iruma put his hand on his chin and began to think. He began to picture all of the times he’s spent with you, all of the laughs, smiles — everything. And for some reason… began to smile… a whole-hearted genuine smile that radiated from his entire being. You could almost see beams of light surrounding him. “Well, I’ve never really experienced any romantic feelings before.. but I do know that (Y/N) is very special to me… maybe I’ll try and see how I feel when she gets back.”

The door creaked open

“H-hey Iruma-kun, sorry I took a bit” you smiled very awkwardly and hesitantly sat down beside Iruma. Ba-dump! Just after you had left to get your heart rate in check, it sky rocketed almost immediately being in such close proximity to such a beautiful angel. “It’s alright (Y/N) no worries!” Iruma smiled his usual cheerful smile. “Shall we continue our studies?” You nodded as you admired his big beautiful eyes and adorable smile. Iruma began reading the textbook passage, but no matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t focus on anything other than his soft and soothing voice. “(Y/N)……(Y/N)…… (Y/N)?” You finally snapped out of it. “Y-yes, Iruma-kun?” He closed his text book. “We don’t have to study tonight, I think we’re pretty much caught- up on the curriculum by how often we’ve been studying recently. May I ask what’s bothering you? I’d really hate it if I hurt or offended you in any way.” You shook your head and hands frantically “No, no! You’ve got it all wrong!” “I have? Well, that’s a relief”. Iruma reached out and put his right hand gently on your head and gazed at you in a sweet and heartfelt manner “mind telling me what’s really going on? I’d like to help if I can.” Out of instinct you took his hand that was on your head and placed it against your cheek. “I-I….. I love you Iruma-kun! I can’t keep that from you any longer!” Your eyes widened, and you immediately curled into a shy ball hiding from whatever happens next.

You were now surrounded in your own thoughts, insecurities, and darkness. (What will Iruma say? What will he do? Is our friendship now over??).

Light peeked in through your pit of self-doubt and darkness. Iruma swooped you up into a princess carry and nuzzled your face. “I guess I didn’t realize until now… but, (Y/N), I love you too”. Iruma stared at you with such an honest and earnest gaze, even though you’ve been burned by many demon boys before.. this time… it truly seemed different. “Oh, Iruma…” you smiled back so tenderly. You two connected foreheads and gazed at the beautiful Netherworld moonlight beaming through his balcony window. You ran your fingers through his soft, feathery blue hair. “Oh how I love you Iruma… can I ever say it enough?” Iruma’s knees buckled and his face turned red… the two of you toppled over. You giggled profusely and pet his head “still the same Iruma I fell for”. You smiled at each other, and you proceeded to hug while still toppled over. You laid atop Iruma as he gently pet your head, and the two of you drifted into a soft and blissful sleep.

A highschool study date turned into a sleepover... Huh. I wonder how Sullivan and Opera reacted?

#welcome to demon school iruma kun #welcome to demon school iruma kun fanfiction #iruma x reader #im in love with Iruma #iruma kun #wtdsik opera #wtdsik sullivan #wtdsik alli #glutinous feeder ring #mairimashita irumakun #mairimashita! iruma kun #mairimashita iruma kun

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macabrecravings · 7 months

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How did Kylar find out about Seraphina? Was it just that they met on school or did he see her somewhere else?

How did Seraphina react when she finds out Kylar was the one who kidnapped her?

What does she think of Kylar's parents? Is she scared of them?

Mb for the question spam I'm just curious 😔🙏

- 🧙‍♂️ anon (again)

I’M SO SORRY THIS IS SO LONG, WIZARD!! I didn't wake up & expect to dump 800 words of my OC’s entire life story on you but thank you so so much because i get to drop lore i’ve never talked about. I love you!!!

Seraphina Protection Squad, I know this is a long read, but... I hope y'all enjoy! Eat up!!

Seraphina’s notably popular at school, she’s a well known delinquent & people look up to her for it. Alsooo… she’s famous for exhibitionism. This means, most people at school know who she is ;w; Even though she’s popular, she doesn’t like bullying other students (because she knows damn well how it feels to be on the other side of it), so she stood up for Kylar in the hallway when he was getting bullied. This act of kindness would spark his obsession because oh my god. she noticed me. she’s so sweet to everyone and they all take it for granted, none of them deserve her o.o

(Tw SH mention next paragraph)

Kylar could easily track her down online and find the cam site she’d stream on. He’d watch her streams obsessively. Over time, he started to really fucking hate the audience she garnered. Along with being lecherous as always, they were more sadistic online than in person. She’d get requests asking her her to harm herself on camera & out of poor emotional regulation, spite, & money she’d do it.

As he fed his obsession with her presence through her life streams, it became mmmhh. Parasocial. He wouldn’t send messages, but it was like he was there with her.

When she started seeking him out & befriending him, she was totally unaware of his obsession. He wouldn’t talk to her in person either, just nod occasionally and hide his drawings. Once he realized that she was intentionally trying to befriend him, it only cemented his idea that she was special and his soulmate. No one else could ever treat her like he would!!

When they became friends, he started sending messages threatening other chatters and his screenname became a regular. He’d be really possessive and jealous. If she blocked him from the stream, he’d make a new account and stay on the low but just for a little. (This is getting too long so lemme answer the other questions 😭 Please feel free to ask more about the cam site lore!!!)

By the time he kidnapped her, Seraphina was aware that he was dangerous. He’d pulled knives on people in class and she was well aware that he liked her a lot more than she liked him—

But. Halloween. She spent the day with Robin, then Whitney, and had an awful feeling about meeting Kylar in the park. Even more so when he brought her into the woods. She played along with the love potion bullshit, gave him a taste of his own obsessive medicine, but then Whitney showed up. Seraphina went along with everything he did willingly, which destrooyeedd Kylar. She warned Whitney when Kylar was about to tranquilize him.

After this, she started to ignore Kylar. She was terrified of him. Every day, she’d walk to and from school with Robin and/or get a ride from Avery, because she saw the way he looked at her. She moved seats in English, but could still feel his eyes on the back of her head & the way he gripped his pencil with a blank, dangerous stare. For almost weeks, it went on like this (thanks to a lot of save scumming). She was limited in a lot of things, because she didn’t want to leave the orphanage. If she went to the brothel after dark, or walk the streets alone without Robin, Kylar could hurt her.

Unfortunately, the day came when she was going shopping after school. She didn’t think it’d be dangerous. It wasn’t even 4PM, he wouldn’t try anything in public in the shopping mall, obviously…Well, he did. She felt a prick in her neck and when she woke up, there was Kylar. She was DEVASTATED.

Life was going so well!!! Her trauma was healthy & she was thriving in her relationships! Robin was gaining confidence, supporting her through everything, Whitney had no dominance over her and they were just having fun! And now she was stuck in a dark room, tied up, with a fucking psycho who she genuinely used to be really fond of! I genuinely gained the Stockholm Syndrome trait on accident, I don’t even remember what I pressed ;w; But uh anyway I guess her trauma, ptsd, and exhaustion got to her—

I’m terrified of Kylar’s parents bro… One grabbed her, took her to the forest, and left her there?? And she still goes back to their mansion to clean every day? She is too empathetic for her own good. When she saw how messy Kylar’s house was, she was like, “Oh :(( He doesn’t have anyone to take care of him... It’s a mess & I’m capable of fixing it!! Yeah, he’s dangerous and kidnapped me, but it’s because he doesn’t have anyone else. Look at how he lives :( Poor boy </3” LIKE, NO??? Oh my God ;w; !!

Oh, but to answer your question: Yes. She’s scared of them but still tries to appease & talk to them 😨

#kylar the loner #oc: seraphina #degrees of lewdity #dol pc #robin the orphan #whitney the bully #original post🍓💌#my writing📕💌#oc lore

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miodiodavinci · 1 year

Text

Blog Redesign Complete!

Howdy once again, y'all ! ! !

I went ahead and spent the last two days cleaning up my blog in preparation to be a bit more active over here should twitter implode, so everything should be in working order!

All old posts have been tagged, old vents have been deleted, some context has been provided to old posts, so with any luck, I won't need to do another deep dive anytime soon w.

I've also gone ahead and gotten a new theme running courtesy of xuethems. It honestly really refreshes the vibe and helps wash away the lingering psychic damage of reading posts of mine from 2015 w

Hope you all enjoy! Here's to another year on this hell site!

#even in spite of the psychic damage #it feels good to close of the year with a clean blog w #i'm going to see if i can keep this blog as my primary vocal synth blog #and then potentially make a secondary personal blog just for chatter and reblog nonsense #i'll let you know if i go through with it w #for now though #it's 6am #and i need to be up by 10 #pain and suffering sdkjfhdfg

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sparklingpax · 1 year

Text

And now, on this edition of miscellaneous headcanons no one asked for!!

-(intended to be set in canon, but opinionated so feel free to disagree if you disagree just don’t attack me for it dkjdsksdjk thanks ;w;)

-typos...sorry if you see any...I typed this on my phone

-this is so long. Too long??? y'all I have many thoughts tho 😭 these range from specific little things to wholesome to kinda angst to like... whatever. Lots of things 🥺 I know I didn't talk about everyone.......so

-pls drop in to ask for more of these anytime I enjoy writing these out qwq

///

-If you didn’t read that one long-ass fic or my (also long-ass) ramble about landiver as a couple, they went to like military academy together and that’s where their whole relationship began....also they never formally met Phoenix but he went to that same academy. Hawk, meanwhile, studied somewhere else...he was kinda always on a fast-track to a higher-level military position so he went to a more “prestigious” school...he aimed to be a captain or some higher rank for a couple reasons, but one of the biggest was so he could prove that a team could be run without the meaningless caste/social class-enforcing regulations and rituals he so much despised.

-Giga and Mega enjoy when they have quiet nights to curl up and read books together....perhaps also with a glass of wine to accompany this.....Giga dozes off first, always.

-Hydra actually studies other languages for fun; right now he speaks German, and has a decent grip on English, Japanese, and French--he's currently trying to learn Chinese.

-Mega and Giga are really good cooks, and they are responsible for the banquet-type meals the Deceptions have sometimes. They also enjoy it, viewing cooking as a "labor of love" and enjoying the smiles on everyone's faces when they sit for dinner and eat. Now, while they appreciate help in the kitchen....surprisingly only Bullhorn is a decent cook and the least likely to break something (he actually puts effort into cooking/baking, it's a hobby of his)....so Mega finds ways to gently coax Cancer and Wilder out of the kitchen so they don't end up making a mess of things...💀✨

-The only Pretender who perhaps has never been to Cab's treehouse is Phoenix.....he's literally nowhere to be found most days cause of his job 😭 bro is literally gone for half the missions they go on too sjsjjssj

-Phoenix is a nice guy, really. He tries. To hang out when he's around, to remember names and come off as easy-going and funny, to be friendly (which he is), but he himself is a little awkward sometimes, surprisingly more of an introvert...he feels bad about always being busy...the kids (and the other team members) do understand and don't blame him for it, but he thinks about it a lot....after all, the Pretenders all know each other best because of all the ime they spent on their initial mission assignment....So basically, he's always been distant but he's not a distant person, its just his situation in life 😔✨

-The kids introduced Lofi to Hawk and he listens to it a lot while working, it helps him focus quite well.

-Diver never formally got his driver's license...he does know how to drive a car...it just deadass had never crossed his mind and then when it did..............he'd just forget 💀 Lander is usually glad to give him a ride in his vehicle mode tho, and on occasion, he'll be driving if he has to...just hoping in the back of his mind he doesnt get stopped or something

-Oh yea and those two hang out in each other's rooms in HQ all the time....on the whole, Diver goes to Lander's room more often tho (I believe there was an episode where they were in this room-looking space looking at the news together and I will die on the hill that was one of their rooms in HQ)

-After coming together with the other Godmasters, Roadking found a new hobby in poking fun at Ginrai and Ginrai would always have good comebacks; I mean come ON theyre both 19 and definitely have similar personalities, they most certainly argue and have a mild (friendly) rivalry (nothing serious, all /lh if you know what I mean 😌)

-Ranger is the chillest dude. He and Diver get along v well, and he is always amused to watch Diver and Lander go at it in one of their (ultimately pointless) discussions about motivations of characters in a movie they just watched or why there was a billboard with a misspelling in the slogan line on the road the other day.

-Lightfoot unironically really likes classical music over any other kind of music, and I say unironically because Roadking and the kids thought he was joking

-I swear I've mentioned this before but Ginrai regularly goes on non-work-related drives in his truck; he always did ever since he started working his trucker job, and still enjoys it, especially at night. And, now that he has a virtually indestructible transtector for a truck...he's got no worries. Hawk tags along when he's not swamped with work...they very much enjoy the time together, sharing music and sometimes stopping at random places on the side of the road for one reason or another.

-On a similar note, Wilder likes walks on the beach by himself. He has a lot of stuff to think about and gets pretty frustrated pretty fast so...it does him good to have the silence and alone time.

-Lander initially used to not need glasses but then over time (after he added glasses to his human disguise) because his human form wore the (random) pair for so long, he found his human body's vision deteriorating to the point where he finally dragged himself over to an optometrist one day for a formal appointment, where he ended up getting the right prescription...and all was right with the world

-Ginrai plays with the straps of his overall things when he's nervous/jittery.

-Buster is a coffee-enjoyer (like 1-2 cups a day, actually--) meanwhile, Hydra is a tea guy, like Giga. Mega will drink either, she has no preference.

-All the Pretenders have taken the kids out for some kind of training exercise at least once, but they've gone with Diver the most.

-Due to his previous occupation & personal interest (as a hobby), Ranger knows how to deal with & ride horses. He tried to teach both Ginrai and Roadking (initially it was just Ginrai but Roadking chimed in wanting to do it as well; Lightfoot is already something of a horseback rider himself, so he offered to tag along for fun) how to ride horses.........once. never again 😀

-nearly every single (human) character on both sides has some form of social media. And yes, they do congregate on Twitter for the most part (I have so many thoughts about this but I'll leave it at this for now)

-Lander has been known to make drunken tweets at odd hours of the morning and then when he's sober again....he really only feels like deleting the most heinous ones. He doesn't really care what he posts, especially cause he has all work-related contacts blocked on that account so...he's got no worries.

-Shuta's motorcycle-lookin bike thing is actually a regular motorbike turned into something way cooler as a whole separate job-related project by his father years ago...Shuta just started using it for himself one day and no one seemed to notice...so he kept going out with it.

-Sometimes, when he's working, Lander ties his hair back, especially when it gets longer (before he gets it trimmed)--he puts it in a ponytail so it doesn't distract him. (Sometimes he leaves it in and doesn't realize; Diver thinks it's cute)

-The Pretenders, while in their human bodies, do have stuff like heightened immune systems, quicker healing from physical wounds, ability to take higher levels of alcohol and such with little to no problems, etc......but they still have human bodies.....so it's not impossible they (and it does happen) get sick, break bones/sustain different kinds of injuries, get drunk, become generally physically exhausted, etc....like with food/drink, they can go way longer than the normal human without it, but at some point they'd need to eat something or they'd starve in their human form (just as Cybertronians need to refuel and stuff)........so......anyway......on the mild tangential connection to the topic of getting drunk......it is a mystery to all of them how bad Hawk is at holding alcohol...of all of them, he gets drunk the fastest, both in his Cybertronian and human body--whether it's energon or human wine, Hawk has a 95% chance of getting tipsy off even just the first glass....hence he is careful with how much he consumes...most times.

-Clouder is that one guy that will make multiple extra accounts to mess with someone. He has done this actually. No one wants to add him on discord servers as a 'friend' because they just feel the weird vibes his main account gives,,,

-The Deception HM Jrs would have been voted "best friendship trio" in their senior year of highschool superlatives contest had they actually gone to school instead of what they ended up doing (based on a real entry in my own highschool's superlatives contest btw haha)

-Lander drinks....a lot.....he has a lot of heavy thoughts. Especially after Shuta's dad died...he harbors a lot of private guilt about that. Diver, beneath much of their daily back and forth teasing, is always watching for signs anything is getting worse with Lander, and is always silently there for him in that regard. They often go drinking together so Diver can just make sure nothing happens to Lander. Lander knows this, and lets him...he trusts Diver, and they understand without needing even to discuss it; Diver's presence gives him confidence to gradually learn to pull himself out of these frequent ruts, and over time, he found his way back to enjoying drinking rather than using it as a way to attempt to forget the past. Diver was there the whole way for it :]

-Ginrai will not eat natto.

-As a Nagano native, Ginrai has absolutely taken members of the team to his hometown and the surrounding areas for sightseeing and other things :3 Also, Nagano is known for its awesome apples! (A/n: Actually real; I was there and learned about that/ate some apple treats....which were literally so good 🤤) so Ginrai is very fond of apples in general, always has been ^^

-Cancer and Browning are a KNOWN prankster duo 😎 (their victims are often the Decepticon Pretenders, mainly because those three STILL haven't figured out the pranking duo is Cancer and Browning, they just Know that Someone Out There is Up to something 🧐 this lack of awareness is the same reason neither Giga nor Mega intend to intervene either 💀)

-'King Poseidon' has no hobbies or passtimes, the Seacons just Rage wherever they are until they have to fight next...that's why King Poseidon is so fucking Mad

-while its true that Dauros was plotting some kind of usurpation of Blood as the trio's (unofficial) leader, he actually gave up because upon later thought....what was the point? It was just the three of them? So...he conceded to just let Blood do whatever and instead just be snarky with him. Gilmer is like a third wheel to this conflict, with no actual opinion on this at any point. He's just there to manically laugh alongside them while they carry out their Evil Plans™

-Hawk kinda has kitten sneezes (canon 💀😭)

-Diver actually doesn't like heights much....but you wouldn't be able to tell because he does his best to bear through it, especially during missions....it also helps when the distance from the ground below is not visible, so like "out of sight out of mind" sorta thing....but yea it makes him uneasy and (somewhat uncharictaristically) tense when heights come into play. Of course, it also helps a lot when Lander's there...he just focuses on the presence of someone who isn't afraid and that helps him not be as afraid of it for that moment

-You'd think Lightfoot doesn't have any interest in being any kind of jokester, but he's actually a serial pun-maker. Do not get him started, he will not stop, and he'll do it with a somewhat neutral expression too, which makes it funnier for the others 💀

-Bullhorn sometimes puts Cancer on his shoulders if they're in some kind of a crowd and the boy can't see, since Wilder and Bullhorn are tall enough to usually get a good view, but Cancer is usually not.

-Phoenix is the one monitoring airwaves the most (it's partially his actual dayjob to do something similar, so he does both that and work for the Autoboy team most days/nights); as such, he kept contact with the Headmasters quite often for a while...then they stopped sending transmissions...he hasn't completely lost contact with them but it's reduced only to emergency transmissions now....he misses the random conversations they'd have with him.

-Roadking really likes EDM, dance, Phonk, etc.

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allylikethecat · 6 months

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omg fluff w a sprinkle of spiiiice? im grateful for YOU ally

No! I am grateful for YOU kind anon who has sent me this message and who is lovely enough to not only read my fics but send me ASKS about them! Thank you so much for your support! 🥰

However, DISCLAIMER: I may have over sold the sprinkle of spice (I definitely over sold the sprinkle of spice) it is not very spicy at all. BUT I am still going to ask y'all to be nice about the fact that I did TRY even if it was only for like a singular paragraph and was mostly for plot purposes 😬

... I'm also now rereading and it and concerned I may have also oversold the fluff but let's just remember this is ALLY fluff which... still hurts a bit? I don't even know what I'm saying I just spent hours with my extended family and I love them to death but I am not thinking rationally anymore 😂

Thank you so much for reading and for sending in this ask! I hope you enjoy the new chapter when I get over myself and post it! I hope you had/have a lovely day/night!

❤️Ally

#allylikethecat #ask ally #anon ask #fanfiction #keep it kind #matty fic #gatty #on a friday #omegaverse #omegaverse fic #i have a lot of like little cousins #and despite giving fictional!matty many a child #i am not the best at dealing with the little ones myself #i try to talk to them like tiny adults and it doesn't really work #.... everyone also keeps asking me when im going to get a new boyfriend (and have even progressed into being like girlfriend?)#because apparently being single for two years is a BAD THING #which it is NOT #i'm like excuse me I have a HORSE #and also... i really enjoy not having to consult another person when making random impulsive decisions #for example your girl is going to London to see Taylor Swift this summer because WHY NOT #anyway FIC #i think i misrepresented it and i am sorry please dont hate me #it is not as fluffy as i thought it was nor as spicy #but it also is probably more fluffy than spicy?#idk i am saying WORDS at this point #also i was even too nervous to DRINK at thanksgiving because i wanted to be able to make a quick get away if necessary #and like ok in the grand scheme of things my family is great and i am lucky #there was just a lot of them #and i didnt even have my parents to hide behind because they live on the other side of the country #and this was my uncle and his family and his wifes family and also my grandma

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lunar-insanity · 2 years

Text

Whispering Water: Martinez Off The Air

Lucy rolled up to Agent Martinez' office door, staring at it in apprehension. This was going to be a tricky conversation, after all she is going up to him and saying "I know Malcallor was Razputin, you could you tell me why the comics painted him as a villain?"

But with such a whirlwind of questions swirling around her head, if she could at least get one of those questions answered, then it's a step towards sorting it all out further.

Stretching out for a moment, she psyched herself up and went through the door.

She saw Morris was still by his finely tuned radios, but his levitation ball was not underneath his chair and the aura he was emitting was now smaller, seemed duller. He was rubbing circles into his temples, like he was getting a headache.

"Agent Martinez?"

The older man blinked, and he tried to put on his usual easy going smile, but it appeared strained as even his lev ball failed to fully materialize.

"Ah hey chiquita, what brings you here so late in the day?"

"Are uh... Are you okay?"

Morris let out a heavy sigh, "Could be better but I just need a break for a bit."

Lucy looked down, a tad guilty now that she wouldn't really be giving Morris that break. The older man noticed and reached out, tipping her chin back up and leaning forward onto his legs.

"What is it Luce?"

She cast her gaze everywhere but at Morris' face, doubts crowding in as to whether she should really be putting this question before him. Well! Nothing for it but to burn the doubts away.

So she throws it out as fast as she can.

"I know Malcallor was Razputin."

The radios crackled with static. That grew louder. and Louder. And LOUDER-

"Agent Martinez?" Lucy yelled, trying to be heard over the static, to no avail. His eyes looked far away as his skin paled.

She looked nervously at the radios, there was whispering coming from them now! That same... eerie whispering she remembered from the last time she was in Morris' mind. Lucy took in another breath to yell louder!

"AGENT MARTINEZ!"

The static stopped.

Morris slowly leaned back in his chair, his hands were shaking a bit.

"wh-... Where did you learn that?" He asked, his voice a bit quiet and shaky.

"Uh..." Lucy thought about her answer, Lizzie asked her to not tell anyone she was back, and Sam didn't give anything away. She certainly can't tell Morris that she had been in Lili's mind and found the information there.

"Not... from the comics..." She eventually said. Morris gave an exasperated sigh at that.

"Of course not from the comics, they didn't know any of that."

"But why? He was your friend! And what you had to do... What Lili had to do..."

"We all know what happened Lucrecia-"

"But it's not correct! They... they made him to be this... big bad villain but- you guys... you had to- Why! Why didn't they include the fact that he was your- MM!"

Morris suddenly reached out and put his hand over her mouth. He looked around the room, caution and worry on his face. He sighed and looked her in the eyes.

"Lucrecia... do you really want to talk about this." His face was serious, voice solemn.

She nodded, face turning serious as well.

Morris hung his head for a moment, then summoned his Psyportal, placing it on his head. He leaned back in his chair and looked down at her.

"Meet me in the room then."

Lucy pulled up her hood, "Which room?"

"You know the one. You got there before. The one I kept telling you to leave."

"Oh... right. That one. Sorry about that..."

The portal door opened, and Lucy's eyes began to glow as she projected herself through the door.

===========================================

There was no music when she landed.

Well not quite. There was something. Quiet and just out of hearing range, but it was such a change from how it was before that it was stark in contrast.

No matter. She has an agent to meet up with. Fortunately the room, that she dubbed the Nightmare Room, was close by.

She rolled and floated her way past familiar obstacles, ignoring the censors she barged past with her wrecking ball. Soon enough, she floated and landed on the balcony to the only open side-room in this part of his mind.

She saw Morris was already there, pulling away cobwebs and looking through dusty projector wheels. He looked up at Lucy's entrance and gestured for her to take a seat.

Hopping onto a bean bag, she looked around, the room was unchanged from her memory, including the chest that was shoved to the back of the room.

Morris found the reel he was looking for and rolled over to her, taking place opposite to her, with the projector behind them both.

"Alright mija. Why do you want to know this."

"It just.... It seemed wrong."

"Wrong?"

"The comics put the battle like it was some... great struggle between good and evil. They said Malcallor was this genocidal monster but... They never said he used to be your friend."

Morris sighed, placing the reel in the projector. The light came on and showed the Enigmatic 8, all together, hand in hand in front of a dome like building. And there was Razputin, right next to Lili and Gisu.

"Yeah. He was. He was this... hyper brain sponge. He could pick up new things in no time, but loved to goof off and be mischevious with us. He was fun, and eager, and..." Morris cut himself off.

"He was great..."

"So why didn't they mention that?"

Morris looked at her as the projector changed slides on it's own, now showing the battle between the 7 and Malcallor. It looked cartoony, compared to the slide before.

"I... I get that what happened to him is complicated, and things went wrong but... isn't it just as important to tell that part of the story? That he was your friend, and something went wrong, and it ended up with you having to fight him?"

"Of course it was important... But... not to the world."

"Why not!"

"Because the world didn't see that!" the slide changed to the 7 gathered around papers as official military looking guys begged with them, "They didn't see it the way we did. All they saw was a big bad villain who had to be stopped. They didn't see Raz. Didn't see the pain and hurt and mania we saw in his eyes."

"Didn't you guys try to tell them? Set the record straight?"

"We couldn't."

"Why not! You guys didn't want your friend remembered like that! Right!"

" 'Course we didn't but... You don-"

"If you tell me I don't understand, I'll punch you! I want to understand!"

Morris blinked, and then nodded. The slide changed to a familiar scene, the grand opening of the motherlobe, still cartoony, with Gisu, Morris, and Adam front and center. Gisu and Morris had wide smiles that Adam tried to match.

"We had just gotten recognition from the whole world Luce. But with that comes eyes. They were all looking at us, at what we stood for, at psychics."

The slide changed, far less cartoony and instead more like frantic scribbles. Eyes staring at the remaining 6.

"Anything we did, everything we said. It was all under scrutiny. And all they wanted to hear was that! How did we defeat Malcallor, what was the battle like, where was Lizzie. That's it."

There was a sad scoff, as Morris shook his head, "I'd always wanted that recognition. But not like this. Never like this."

"Morris..."

Still the older man pressed on, "You know how you said your family hated psychics?"

"Yeah?"

"That was the world at the time. Cal's parents tried to have him lobotomized because he was psychic, and his story isn't the only one on the air. Being Psychic was.... dangerous. Until that battle."

Another slide: Indistinct figures with the brains in white relief, the eyes shifting from condemnation to praise.

"Suddenly we were held in high regard, we were heroes! Opinions were beginning to shift and change for the better. Because of us, the Psychic Protection Act was put in order. The next generation would never have to deal with what we went through again."

Morris then turned to face Lucy. Lucy turned to face him as well, briefly fiddling with her ears. She thought she was hearing a faint whine and static

"But if they knew? If they knew that Malcallor used to be our friend, one of us and not just a psychic from Grulovia?" Morris' hands mimed an explosion, "Poof! If anything we'd have even worse publicity, people asking if we'd turn genocidal too."

Another slide: Morris and Gisu talking with each other, worry and determination on their faces, while Adam walks away from them in the background. The static sound grew slightly.

"So... Gisu and I agreed. For the good of everyone, we'd take that narrative and roll with it. Broadcast it to the world and take the scrutiny ourselves. We'd do our best to make sure the public saw the best in us."

There was a rattle behind them. The slide changed, but Morris noticed neither of these, focused on Lucy and his hands. The slide had gone back to the battle, but the cartoon feel was gone, instead the frantic scribbles were back. The static was louder, the whine more piercing.

"But... It... It still hurts! We lost two friends that day! And the worst part is he was THERE!"

A frantic scribble of Malcallor, a vague figure in the midst of it; the rattle getting louder.

"I made this... this stupid speech, trying to bring him back and for a brief second he was there! He was there Luce! And- and-"

The chest flew open-

"I was useless that day!"

"Agent Martinez I don't- aaAAH!"

A hand shot out of the chest and grabbed Lucy! It began dragging her back to the chest as she frantically tried to grab onto the projector!

"LUCY!" Morris grabbed the other end of the projector, both now struggling against the nightmarish hand that had a hold on her!

"I don't think you were useless Morris!"

"I was though! I-AAAAAAAAH!"

One hard yank and they both were pulled into the chest.

===========================================

Morris landed with a harsh 'OOF!' Pushing himself up onto his arms, he grimaced at the sight before him. The cage he had built to protect himself from the nightmares was broken, twisted sharp metal the only things left that showed the cage was even there. Pale ice blue fire raged around the platform he laid on. The ground was covered in ash or snow, he was never sure, the air as cold as that day in Grulovia.

And the static. The sky was nothing but static, auditory and visual snow.

He summoned a levitation ball and hauled himself onto it, pulled his legs in and crossed to make sure they wouldn't catch on the ground. He looked around again, trying to find a splash of colour in the pale world.

"Lucy! Mija! Where are you!"

He strained his ears to hear anything beyond the static, but the noise was the only thing filling his ears.

Wait...

Where were the nightmares.

Morris pulled himself upright and spun around, seeing nothing but icy flames and static snow.

He was alone.

No this isn't right.

There should be nightmares here!

Where'd they go!

And where's Lucy!

"LUCRECIA! WHERE ARE YOU MIJA!"

Nothing. Nothing but static. Oooh that's not good. He's always had a handle on his nightmares, and it definitely wasn't like this when he pulled Lucy from this place a few days ago.

But a few days ago the cage had still been here and he hadn't been listening to the world, listening to people dredge up a past he can never escape.

Morris spins around on his lev ball more, rolling around the sides trying to see further through the flames and static. As he rolled straight across the platform, his lev ball ran over something!

Using TK, he brushed the snow away and uncovered the projector. They had both held onto it when they were pulled in so...

Morris looked around anxiously, he hoped that Lucy had left his mind using smelling salts, but he couldn't take the chance in case she was still in here. The problem is he can't see or hear anything beyond the static...

But maybe the projector can.

Picking it up, Morris aimed the projector at the static, the light shining into the static and-

'Help me Morris!'

There they are.

Morris swallowed uneasily, adjusting his TK grip on the projector and slow turned around, letting the light reveal his nightmares to him.

'I'm here!'

'Help me please!'

'Why aren't you helping Morris?'

'Why did you watch me die Morris?'

'I'm still here.'

"I'M HERE!"

That one was louder, and in a voice he could pick out of a crowd. He refocuses the projector and sees only a churning deep purple, moves it up-

Up.

Up...

Up.....

A large Nightmare, far bigger than the ones the light had revealed before, now fades into view ever so slightly. The light reveals the head in full colour but the rest is a translucent silhouette. And in a hand-

"Luce!"

"Agent Martinez!"

She's less translucent than the nightmare, and he can hear her more clearly through the static, but the nightmare has her, and he can't reach her.

"N-Nightmares aren't supposed to be like this... right?"

Morris takes a breath and shakes his head, "No they're not... but it's been a rough couple of days."

"Listen Morris! You weren't- LOOK OUT!"

He spins to see what she's pointing at but it's a bit too late, as something invisible snags at his jacket and pulls him down off the ball! The projector falls from his hands and the light shows a Nightmare right on top of him!

He puts his fingers back to his temples, ready to fire a PSI Blast to get this thing off him when bright violet shots strike the beast from behind! The Nightmare is stunned long enough for him to squirm his way out from underneath it and get back on his ball.

He grabs the projector again and spins around, trying to keep an eye on all the nightmares he can't see while Lucy shouts out warnings as best she can.

In between PSI Blasts he can still hear the voices. And Lucy can hear them too. She keeps trying to contradict them.

'You left me to die Morris!'

"No you didn't!"

'Useless, so useless'

"You weren't useless Morris!"

He tries to fire on the big Nightmare that has Lucy but the shots just glance off it like nothing.

And the swirling purple miasma it's made out of just looks like a swirling fur coat.

'You couldn't do anything against me.'

"I don't know what to say to that one! But don't believe it!"

"Chiquita," He stops, clutching the legs of the projector tight, "I know you're trying to help but it just..."

He hangs his head and lets out a humorless laugh, "I couldn't do anything that day!"

"You made a speech!"

"For what! He was there for a brief moment, and it threw everyone off! Maybe if we focused we wouldn't have lost them both! My stupid speech just-"

"Gave you hope!"

Morris looked up, seeing Lucy's desperate and yet determined eyes, even through the transparency.

"That's what you all were there for right? To help Razputin!"

"I... We- We thought that maybe if we just froze his ice, we'd be able to talk him down..."

"And you showed everyone that there was still someone to try for!"

The static seemed to quiet for a moment.

"You all wanted to help your friend, and you showed everyone there was still a friend left to help! You gave them hope! That's not useless!"

Morris' mouth pulled into a tight frown, "But hope... hope hurts sometimes..."

"I hoped that I'd find my place at Whispering Rock!"

The static quieted a bit more.

"And... yeah it got chaotic and messy and... I think I may need to talk to someone about it later but! I got to learn my dad didn't really hate me! And I got to be a Psychonaut! I got to be here! That tiny pamphlet gave me hope and I'm here now!"

"You weren't useless Agent Martinez! And you're not now! You can do this! Fight off these nightmares!"

Morris stared at her for a beat, the static dying down a bit more. He looked around him, seeing nothing but knowing they were there. He can't fight them well enough while holding the projector but...

"Lucy! Catch!"

He threw the projector at her and she caught it in her blue TK hand, immediately turning it around and shining it on the platform. The light shone on a bigger radius, and now he can see them. See them and fight them.

"You got this Agent Martinez!"

He bobbed and weaved through the Nightmares, past their reaching hands and fired on those closest. One of them suddenly froze up and exploded into fragments, leaving inner demon bombs behind.

When the nightmare exploded, the big one suddenly roared in anger as he became more opaque, and a mouth began to open up! Morris' eyes locked with Lucy for a brief moment before he turned to summon a trampoline and began chucking the bombs into it!

Lucy threw the projector up as high as she could, and then began to catch the flying bombs! Tossing them into the giant nightmare's gaping mouth!

It closed suddenly as the nightmare bent forward and roared again at Morris, slamming a big claw down to try and crush him! Morris darted away quick as he could, levitating high over the claw sweep! Lucy caught the falling projector again and shined the light in the big one's eyes, stunning it and ceasing it's attack.

Shining the light around Morris again, the Nightmare's own attack had destroyed more of the others, leaving 2 stragglers left. With a nod towards each other, they restarted the cycle! Destroying the next Nightmare and using the ammo provided to give the big one it's own medicine!

The next attack from the big Nightmare destroyed the last small one, but in Morris' haste to dodge the next attack, he and Lucy fired at the sweeping arm. The Nightmare reared back in pain suddenly as it solidified and broke off under it's own weight.

The arm came crashing down, fracturing on impact! Two shots broke the arm open and more bombs came spilling out.

Morris felt a cold gaze on him and he turned to see the Nightmare staring directly at him, head a meter away from him. Morris turned to face the scrutiny, glaring up at it.

'What exactly do you think you're doing Martinez?'

The voice was chilling, the eerie cadence of the inner demon that had taken over his friend.

But that voice didn't belong to his friend. Because he remembers a brighter voice, one full of mischief and warm waters.

A voice he brought back for a brief moment.

"Not letting you taint the memory of my closest friend."

Morris summoned the strongest blast he could and aimed it squarely in the Nightmare's jaw! The blast made the Nightmare rear back! He heard Lucy's jubilant cheer, and it brought a smile to his face.

"Keep it's jaws open wide Luce!"

Lucy nodded eagerly and tossed the projector back to Morris. Pushing as much of her psychic focus into her TK as possible, she managed to summon two hands, imagining she was trying to rip open a bag of chips!

The strain hurt but she heard Morris' begin to throw the bombs into, and she used her jubilation to keep her TK strong.

The Nightmare suddenly seized up, it's roars choking up as it finally let her go! She yelled as she fell before being caught in Morris' cyan blue TK hand. He pulled her back to solid ground and put her down gently. The two looked up as the Nightmare solidified fully, and Morris rolled forward bit.

"I may not have had much to contribute to that battle... But I gave us hope. Gave the rest of the Psychic world hope through our work here."

Lucy looked on as Morris prepared one last PSI Blast, a small smile on his face.

"You know. I think that's the best I could ever ask for."

He let the PSI Blast loose, filled with the anger he felt the past 20 years every time he had to hear about that battle, re-written to hide the true tragedy of it all.

Underneath it, an undercurrent of the love he still feels for his friends, strengthening the shot more than anger ever could.

The shot goes straight through the Nightmare, piercing a hole right through the heart of it. There's stillness for a moment. Then cracks form outwards from the hole, racing outwards until finally the whole thing crumbles into dust.

Morris lets out a breath, feeling a weight suddenly lift from his shoulders. He turns to look at Lucy, who is smiling brightly at him, and he can't help but return it.

The snow on the ground parts suddenly, revealing the exit he had made for this room before. Morris gestures to it.

"C'mon chiquita, let's get out of here."

===========================================

Morris puts the film reel away as Lucy straightens the projector back in it's place.

"So basically, the world would've never changed its mind on psychics if you all told the truth?"

"Unfortunately. It's the way of the biz. Things are always rewritten or redacted. Some for better, some for worse. All depends on the context. Sometimes you really shouldn't regale the public with gorey details."

"Mmm..." Lucy nodded, understanding better, "Do... Do you think that... maybe someday you could tell the real story?"

Morris sighed and rolled over to her, "I'd like to some day. Bet Adam would like that. But... that day isn't anytime soon I think. 20 years is... funny enough, still too soon. The Psychonauts, and Psychic opinion for that matter, need more time to be stabilized in the world. Things don't move that fast unfortunately."

Lucy heaved a sigh, feeling a bit down at that. Morris placed a hand on her shoulder to get her to re-focus on him, "But for now... You and I know the truth. And that's enough. That we know who Razputin was. Memories are what make us."

'Memories kid, it's the story of our lives. Sometimes they're not all good. Thanks for helping me remember the ones that are.'

Lizzie said that, and it makes Lucy smile, "So we carry the good ones."

"Keep them loud and alive in your mind while acknowledging the bad, use them as light to move forward."

"Got it."

"Right. Let's get out of her, because I don't know about you, but I think it's time this talk show went off the air."

Lucy nodded and pulled out her smelling salts, holding them under her nose. She looked around the room one last time and frowned, "Sorry again... about coming in here when you asked me not to."

"Eh, you were curious mija, and it wasn't exactly well hidden."

"Still. It was your private memories. I shouldn't have barged in."

"Well, you learned. That's all I ask."

Lucy nodded, and pulled the salts open

===========================================

Lucy's astral projection flew out of the door and back into her own mind. With a blink, her eyes stopped glowing and she pulled her hood back down.

Morris rolled his head and stretched his arms out, rubbing his neck to get the kinks out.

"Well... Did not mean for that to happen."

"You did say the past couple days have been rough. I guess it would wear on you, searching the world for signs of Malcallor."

"Yeah. I definitely need that break now," He summoned his lev ball, lifting him and the chair back up. He rolled off towards the door.

"I think I'll go see Gisu, catch up a bit ya know? You," he turned back around to see her, "Take a break huh? Rest up, it's been a breathless few days."

"I will! Soon," Lucy nodded. Morris nodded in response and rolled out the door.

"Morris!"

He looked back through the open door, Lucy had her hands behind her back and looked grateful, "Thank you. For answering my questions. It helped."

He smiled, "Glad it did mija."

And with that, Morris rolled away out of sight. Lucy took in a deep breath and flopped down on one of the cushions in the room. She rubbed her face and sorted through the new info.

She did feel better actually, other than the slight headache from the dual TK hands. She was finally able to get an answer for something, and now she could sort it away.

All that left now was the last piece of Lili Zanotto. Taking a few more moments of rest, she steeled herself for whatever was to come.

#whispering water au #psychonauts 2 au #lucrecia aquato #morris martinez #i looked up terms of endearment for this #hopefully it's okay #I like to think that PSI Blast can be powered by more than just anger #just depends on what you use.#and love is powerful #i spent all day on this i hope y'all enjoy ;w;#writings

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