#ily blue bastard

[hermitcraftkinfessions]

Question for anyone (mods, fictives, kins, CLs, etc) that feels like answering. What is something that existed in Hermitcraft (or Minecraft) that doesn't exist here and you miss? It can be items, places, certain events etc.

I've mentioned it before but i miss redstone. Like just being able to make things with it or mess with it. It stained everything it touched and the texture was so strange.

-a not frontstuck anymore Eth (Etho fictive from Blue anon)

I personally miss blaze rods but not because of how nice and warm they are or that they can be useful, but because I remember them being gummy and tasting like cinnamon once you cracked the slightly hard outer shell, was like a "spicy" gummy candy and was good to snack on, scare those who are to chicken to try it lol -Mod Hels

[redeyerhaenyra]

Hey, its ya girl, ominoose. Honoured to be here on opening night.

I would like to request Jake Lockley, Blue Jones and Basil Stitt with a curvy/chubby reader please! XOXOXO

Jake, Blue, Basil, with a curvy reader

Summary: Some headcanons for Jake, Blue, and Basil with a curvalicious reader

Warnings: Masturbation(male), possessiveness, unhealthy relationships in Basil's section, recording, thigh fucking, dollification(?)in Blue's section, a small bit of titty worship if you squint

Notes: MUSHI omg, yes yes yes 1000% yes, autistic bisexual curvy oscar isaac lovers RISSSEEE- I kinda got carried away with Basil's section hehehe but I hope you enjoy nonetheless :)

Jake Lockley

OK so if there's one thing we know about Jake, he is the opposite of shy, especially when it comes to his affections for you

Man lives and breathes to just look at you

The bastard will fucking pout if you're going out and you don't wear tight clothes

"But, hermosa, I wanna show you off, you're so hot. Everybody wishes they were you, prometo."

He's so proud you're his, there is nothing about you he doesn't love. Like I said earlier, he just likes to look at you.

All the curves and bumps, your soft tummy, your plush thighs, he can't get enough.

You will be sitting in his lap most of the time and this is non negotiable

It's half a sex thing for him and half that you're basically his plushie that he likes to cuddle, just having you sit pretty on his lap, all warm and squishy, makes him feel better

I think he'd definitely be into thigh fucking like c'mon now it's obvious

Feeling and seeing his dick between your squishy thighs just makes him go feral

I've said it before I'll say it again he fucking lives for making Marc and Steven jealous and recording himself fucking your thighs on Steven's phone for the poor guy to find later is just one of the many ways he does that

He talks alot too, just to rub it in further

"Guau, qué chica tan bonita. Hmm? You're so beautiful aren't you, baby? So perfect and squishy for me, I bet Marc and Steven wish they were here right now, huh? Don't you agree? Yeah, I bet you do."

Blue Jones

Oh no

If you thought Jake was bad you have a whole nother thing coming

Blue will PERSONALLY make sure all the costumes you wear on stage highlight just how curvy and plush you are.

But no one else is allowed to touch you

Oh no, that right's reserved for him and him alone

Tbh even when you're not performing, he'll want you to be wearing tight fitting shirts so he can stare at your boobies as you go about your day

Yeah he's a tit guy, don't get me wrong he loves all parts of your body but titties just do it for him

Him and Jake are very similar tbh, he also likes to show you off.

When high rollers are in the club you'll be sitting on his lap and no one else's

You're his doll, toy, barbie even

He likes to dress you up and play with you ;)

I'm serious he will pick out outfits for only him to see you in, dress you up in them, sit you on his lap and brush your hair

Like I said you're his toy, his stress ball, even

Just squeezing you will calm him down, any part of you, it's almost grounding to him

He talks to you in these moments, but it's just sort of general babbling about how shit his day was, and all you have to do is sit in his lap and let him nuzzle your breasts

"You're so good to me, bunny. I don't deserve you, do I? No matter what I do you're always here.. always so soft for me.."

Basil Stitt

Ah, everyone's favorite recluse

Look at the way this man lives and tell me he's not a porn addict please

YOU KNOW I'M RIGHT

So we've established that he's a greasy little basement dweller who watches porn on the regular

And we all know that most mainstream porn showcases sort of a singular body type (no hate to my skinny ladies btw ily mwah mwah)

Like it never occurred to him that he might find chubby ladies attractive

So when you, his new neighbour, moving into the apartment across the hall from him, knock on his door to say hi with the most wonderful tight leggings on he basically dies on the spot

The way your thighs looked so squishy and plush- he just wanted to grab them and sink his teeth into them

He tried to end the conversation as quickly as possible because he knew he would've ended up moaning out loud at any point

And then you turn around to walk away AND HE SEES YOUR ASS he's dead he's so dead

The next time he sees you, you're coming back from a night out, clearly a little tipsy, and wearing the shortest, tightest black dress he's ever seen, he dies a second time

His face is pressed up agaisnt the peephole in his door so he can watch you

You drop your keys at one point and bend over to pick them up and he basically cums in his pants untouched

Groaning and falling to his knees as his now softening dick rubs against the wet patch in his jeans

He makes it a point to watch you whenever he can now

He learns your schedule off by heart, it becomes his schedule. Probably has alarms set for it on his phone

Like "Oh , it's 9AM, time to watch my neighbour leave for work." "Oh its 8:30 time to watch her come home."

He really desperately wants to talk to you more but the poor guy is just so insecure :(

This cycle continues for a while.. until one fateful day, you come back from your weekly night out, in the same tight black dress that he loves so much on you... but this time... you're accompanied by a man

The both of your are similarly a little drunk, giggling and fumbling over the keys to your apartment

What? What's this? A friend, brother... partner? Basil silently begs you from behind the door to not let him into your apartment but oh god that's exactly what you do

He feels the tears running down his face before he realises he's crying, pleading for you to stop from behind his door.

His pleads turn to shouts as you close the door, sniffling and crying

Definitely fucks up his apartment again in his anguish

And when he's done that he angrily jerks off, to get back at you? He's not sure. He doesn't even know if you're having sex with the guy, or if it's just a friend you're letting crash at your place, but he's so obsessed with you he can't imagine it being any other reason that you would "betray" him like that

His poor cock is red and sore and he realises he shouldn't have tugged on it so hard 🥺 poor baby

He spends the next day crying in bed, it feels like you've dumped him when you're both barely more than acquaintances but by this point he's formed a sort of parasocial relationship with you, and your soft tummy, that he can't get over the prospect of you even looking at other men

And so, it's decided. He's going to go, knock on your door, and talk to you.... tomorrow. One day. He will do it! Just.. not today.

[madame-fear]

My lovely lady wife,

I think we know what I’m about to request for. A little Aemond fic on what I told you because Aemond being possessive..🤭

Arguing over reader having a dance with Lucerys or Aegon, but then turns sweet after reader snaps at him, telling him that she’s devoted to him?

Pretty please? (I love you!!❤️)

*ೃ༄ 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐄 .ೃ࿐

★ amira speaks! : My sweet darling Vinca, an honour to receive your requests as always! ❤ Please enjoy this and hope it was what you expected. I was inspired by the dialogue you sent me on some of the dialogues in here 🤭 Ily sm honey !! 💕 — summary : [ — ✧ request ] — word count : 1.6k ꒰ა ✧ additional note ; title is based on the song “come to me” by björk. 💗

— pairing : jealous/possesive!aemond targaryen x reader — genre : a bit of arguing, but then turns into fluff.

“It was just one dance, Aemond!” your shouting echoed through the dimly lit halls, going after Aemond, behind of him.

Patience was a virtue that lately began to heavily hang from a thin string for the One Eyed Prince; and the arrival of his bastard nephews, the Velaryon boys, back again to King’s Landing wasn’t making things any easier for him... And mostly, for his usual possesiveness around you.

Not that the presence of both boys itself bothered him. Quite the contrary, his natural self around them was to tease and make them upset on purpose, constantly reminding them how everyone knew they were merely bastard sons; “Strong” boys, as he would refer to them. But the problem was, when the betrothal dinner had arrived.

While Helaena took the hand of the eldest Velaryon, Jacaerys, for a dance after she made a subtle remark on how her brother-husband Aegon ignored her, Lucerys stood up from his seat, and offered his own hand to you for a dance. Such act was merely out of the usual polite and gentleness that identified the future Lord of Driftmark, but Aemond couldn’t help but silently seethe with overwhelming jealousy at the sight of you giggling and dancing with Lucerys Velaryon.

Lucerys. His bastard nephew. The one that had made fun of him with a pig as a young boy when Aemond had not yet claimed Vhagar, and the same nephew that had taken out his eye. How could someone as himself so pridefully offer his hand out to you, out of all the people, right in front of his face? And what was worse, was that YOU had taken it, only to notoriously have fun with the young Velaryon bastard.

And that could only lead to you having to chase after him through the large halls of King’s Landing, shouting out his name for him to listen to what you had to say. His usual stoic face now shouted an expression of pure grimace, feeling as if he were to lose himself to a burdening sensation of posessiveness towards you.

Aemond couldn’t even bare when his brother Aegon was too drunk to the point he started flirting with you, or using sexual innuendos — but seeing you dance so gracefully with Lucerys, the nephew he despised wholeheartedly, was the least of things Aemond could possibly tolerate.

“Aemond!” you kept shouting, “Seven Hells, would you even care to listen to me?!” his steps had turned nearly into harsh stomping, feeling your own legs get tired from the heavy rushing towards him.

As you were nearly reaching him, trying to place your hand on his arm to catch his attention, the One Eyed prince abruptly stopped on his steps and turned around to face you. Out of surprise at his sudden actions, you made a few steps backwards.

“I don’t need to listen to anything.” he retorted, with a monotone, yet cold voice tone. The stare on his blue eye hinted a fiery jealousy that abruptly ignited on him, you crossed your arms tightly against your chest. “And most certainly, I don’t need to hear you talking about how you accepted the hand of my bastard nephew to dance with him right in front of me!” his voice raised its tone, notoriously sounding angrier by the minute.

You had to admit, you were both frustrated and surprised by his sudden outburst. While you knew Aemond could be rather overprotective of you — especially ever since you had taken care of him after the incident with his eye —, you had never seen him acting in such... A possesive manner. “To which, I remind you: he owes me his eye.”

Your lips were partly open, about to protest against his sayings, as your brows knitted in confusion at the way Aemond behaved towards the situation. “I was only being polite to him, Aemond!” you snapped at him, shouting louder. “What was supposed to do, turn him down right in front of everyone?!”

You understood that Lucerys was certainly trying to be as polite and gentle as his brother Jacaerys was with women, and you saw no issue with that. But apparently Aemond did.

“You should have, yes!” your hands both went to your face, immediatly letting your head fall against your palms, releasing a muffled frustrated huff at his answer. You then fluttered your eyes open, going back to face him. Your heart loudly pounded against your chest from the adrenaline of the situation, loudly arguing with one another; being loud enough as for your voices to echo around the halls.

“I can’t believe you,” you said, with your eyes furrowed. “That was literally the most attention I have ever paid to any of the Velaryon boys!” pointing your index finger at him, you continued. “And you are making such a fuss over that?” while his lips opened to speak against you, you rapidly interrupted him, feeling bold enough to confront him. How could Aemond be so oblivious to the way you were entirely devoted to him, and only him?

“It was one dance.” you remarked, lowering your quivering voice. “And while you may have lost an eye, Aemond, that does not mean you are blind.” hearing your words made his grimly jealous expressions turn into an intrigued one. You sighed, allowing the hand that was pointing at him with your finger to fall by your side in a swift manner.

“I only accepted the dance out of politeness, but did I kiss Lucerys, or anyone else? No, I have not.” you began remarking, feeling relieved that Aemond seemed to attentively listen to you without making too much of a fuss. “Did I fuck him, or anyone else? Yet again, I have not.” a soft huff spurred from your nose, looking at him in disbelief.

“Do I ever stroll with anyone else in the gardens, spending hours talking with one another, like I do with you? No, I don’t.” leisurely, his face softened, hearing how the tense atmosphere seemed to switch into a more tranquil one. “I have never read to anyone else in the gardens, except with you. I have never cheered for anyone else in their swordtraining, except with you.” you continued, trying to discreetly build the point to him.

“I could never spend hours comforting anyone else, like I comforted you when you lost your eye. I have never cared for anyone else like I genuinely care for you. I never even cared to fix my gaze on someone that isn’t you, Aemond.” the initial angry frustration softly washed away from you, even if you could still feel the thrill of it pumping through your veins.

Perhaps it was true. He could have overreacted just a little bit — more than extremely, actually — to the situation. But how could he not be possesive over you, when you had such remarking, exceptional qualities that any man could possibly long for in a woman?

It had always been you the one braiding his hair playfully, it was you the one who comforted him whenever he felt angry, or outraged... It was you the one who always cheered and clapped for him when his skills in swordtraining became better each time; occasionally tossing Ser Criston’s own sword to the ground merely to impress you, and hear you root for him proudly.

Walking a few steps towards him, you lifted your sight to his eye, staring profoundly at him. A soft, quivering sigh escaped from him. Faintly, a rosy tint crept on his pale skin gently. “How can you not realise, it is you the one I truly adore? The one I am most devoted to?” the sound of your voice nearly made him melt, especially when you raised your hand to his cheek, and tenderly stroked it with the tip of your thumb.

A scoff spurred from his rosy lips, with a little sheepish grin tuggig at the corner of his lips. He was used to being possesive and jealous over you, but those feelings of adoration — now mutually felt — were always kept to himself. The One Eyed Prince was absolutely clueless on how to express his feelings towards you, to which, he preferred that saying nothing at all would be much better.

“I should have known it sooner.” he muttered, sounding a slight tone of disbelief at himself. It was just too obvious for someone such as himself to not realise. You scoffed, smiling at him as you shook your head lightly. A certain pride filled you, as your skin could feel his own heated cheek from the fluster under your touch.

Without hesitating, you tiptoed as his presence towered your own, and your free hand went to cup his other cheek. Awkwardly — yet a bit needily — his arms went around your waist sweetly, pulling you closer to his body. Fluttering your eyes shut, your lips locked against his own. And Gods, your lips were as sweet-tasting as he had always imagined they would be.

You kept your lips pressed against his own for what seemed an eternity, despite it being a minute, almost. His way of kissing you was soft, yet, it became a bit more deep and intense as the time progressed. Reluctantly, you had to pull away from him, despite him trying to inconsciously encourage you to keep going.

As you pulled apart, with your hands on his cheeks, a prideful grin was seen on his lips. Perhaps being jealous and possesive had its own perks, after all. A soft chuckle spurred from your lips gracefully, moving your hand lower to caress his jaw with the tip of your finger. There was something sweet in seeing how he could act just like a fiery, possesive dragon, but turn into an endearing puppy that melted at your touch. At that touch of yours he so longed.

“But now you know,” you whispered, caressing his skin delicately. “And I don’t care if I have to spell it out for you.”

♡ taglist : ♡

@keiratonks @kyuupidwrites @tchatso zzz000eee @bellarkeselection @visenya-reigned @maria699669 @hopelesswritergall @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @dragon430 @sweethoneyblossom1 @jamiemydeer @snowprincesa1

[daisybianca]

Hi hi!! I love your blog sm!!!! Can you do something for mick?? (He's been looking wayyy too good I NEED SOMETHING) HSJSHJSHS BUT ANYWAYS ILY AND I HOPE YOU HAVE AN AMAZING DAY SWEETS🤍

pairing: mick schumacher x femalereader

summary: mick is literally the perfect boyfriend. the guy that is in every rom-com as the good, gorgeous, generous, and polite kind-of-guy. that's the surface, right? that's what people see and think. but what lays beneath the perfection is somehow even better.

warnings: angst, sexual activities

(a/n): Thank you lots once again. I seriously love writing for you guys😭 please feel free to recommend anything you'd like to read!

"BABY, MY TUMMY is purring." You claimed next to Mick when your eyes had finally started to adjust in the morning light that invaded through the curtains of your bedroom. "It hurts."

Your body was utterly exposed beneath the sheets, and you could feel Mick's bare leg caressing your thigh in slow but smart and teasing movements that required your attention.

"Yeah, but I'm the one with a belly being rubbed at at the moment." He laughed and you realized your hand had been rubbing the spot of his stomach the entire time since you exposed your eyes to sunlight.

"C'mon, you know why I do this." You tried to voice, but it came out muffled because of your boyfriend’s strong arms being wrapped around you tight and hard.

"Yeah." He said behind your messy hair. "You do this almost every day we wake up"

"I--"

"You rub my belly every time you want it in the morning." Mick exclaimed. "I'm a very observant bastard when it comes to my girl's tendencies for getting away without saying a word."

His hands were placed on the flesh of your belly and started creating soft circles there.

You knew he was a teaser and didn't know if you liked it or hated it. Maybe both but on different circumstances each.

You grabbed his hand and pulled it away, clearly stating you were mad at him.

Your bodies had been tangled together, and you bet was just like his. Sex hair from the previous night had been a total blast.

He was right. You hadn't noticed, but you indeed caressed his chest and stomach when you were in the mood and had just woken up.

But you weren't going to admit it anyway.

"(y/n)." His finger was brought on your jaw, forcing you to look at him. "Say it, and it's yours, baby." He said, as if his dick was a prize to win.

Which certainly was, but...

You forced a smile. "No, I-I don't--" You stuttered.

"Baby..." Mick started. "I don't want you to be embarrassed or uncomfortable or shy around me." He placed his hand on your cheek and brought you closer to his chest, still captivating your eyes into an intense staring contest.

"Mick, I--"

"I want you to be happy with me and--"

"But I am--"

"I want you to know that I'm always here. And when I say always, I mean it." He stated in a mumble. "I'm here whenever you need a warm hug to feel better, or a strong shoulder to cry on and release the stress..." His lips found the sensitive skin of your neck, and all of a sudden, your heart roared in your chest as if you were a schoolgirl. "...or even a good fuck to make you remember what you mean to me and maybe erase the word embarrassment from that beautiful vocabulary of yours."

He stopped the kisses and looked at you.

You thought your heart had ceased beating in your chest for a moment.

You inhaled and exhaled slowly.

Mick's lips were curved slightly, and his blond hair was messy. His gaze was surely intoxicating, his blue eyes so pure. The purest you'd ever find.

Contrary to his intentions...

"You got me?" He asked and you nodded.

His expression changed to fake annoyance once again.

"Words, baby." Mick mumbled. "You're not that quiet when I fuck you every morning."

You couldn't help but let a laugh escape. You got up and on top of him.

First thing to do in the morning: give a lecture to your girlfriend about vocabulary matters and let her ride the shit out of you till she can't walk for your upcoming race day.

Check.

You started kissing him passionately. Your soul, body, and mind screamed his name. "Yes, sir."

[jamminvroomvroom]

on the weekends.

gr x fem!reader

finally done with the george win smut! sorry it took ages but we made it lol - mentally i am still in brazil. lemme know what you think ily ily ily!!

btw this is not linked to the george fic, this is a standalone! dedicating this one to @wetforwolff and @lovely-leclerc - you asked, you shall receive <3

warnings: 18+!! it’s smut!! bit of fluff, bit of angst, language, alcohol

3.5k words

you’d anticipated this day for as long as you’d known george. he looked like a winner, walked like a winner, talked like a winner. he fucked you like one, too.

back when you were just getting toto his coffee and george was making powerpoints, you knew this day would come. when you were taking on a bigger role and he was dragging the williams into q3, you knew this day would come. when you were finally at the top of the job ladder, draped in merc team kit in the garage every weekend and he was pulling a top five out of the bag every single time he got in the car, you knew this day would come.

you’d been stood in the back of the garage biting your nails, trying not to draw attention to yourself and your nerves. the humidity drove you insane, but not as much as he did. no one needed to know just how close you and george could get after a long weekend, and now wasn’t the time to publicise it. toto was back at the factory, leaving you exposed; usually you’d hide behind him when things heated up on track. you weren’t supposed to care which merc brought it home p1. a win was a win, a one-two was a one-two, and lewis was on the hunt. fair game. you knew you were fucked when you prayed that car number sixty three would come out on top. you knew it was foolish and selfish but a celebratory night in the sheets boded better than a consolation fuck.

a mercedes one-two and a meltdown at redbull rounded off your weekend perfectly. george had done it, just like you knew he would. lewis had pulled off the recovery drive that added more flavour to his greatness. a perfect day in the office, realised by three trophies to tell the tale.

toto was blowing up your phone. you answered, trying to wade through the masses in parc ferme. you lingered by the scales, pressing the big green button on your phone, toto’s face filling the screen, aged by a lacklustre season, masked by the elation of triumph. you beamed as you rambled about data and upgrades and and told him that you’d try and find george. you didn’t need to look much further.

a large hand ghosted over your waist, a shiver running up your spine and back down again. you turned, breath hitching in your throat. he was breathtaking; sweating, blue eyes clouded red, veins prominent in his trembling hands. his hair was a mess, body shaking from the adrenaline and his smile was so wide, so emotional that you almost doubled over. you couldn’t help but stare at him, at the blood, sweat and tears that had made him great. beautiful bastard.

you very rarely felt small in the presence of a man. you refused to, taking up space was the key to survival in your line of work. but for once, you allowed yourself to shrink, to succumb to it, the size of george. the size of success. he looked different, powerful. your thighs clenched.

all he did was stare back at you, a telepathic communication pinging backwards and forwards.

he was going to ruin you, and you were going to let him.

“are you there? hello?” toto grumbled, too excited to be mad at your ignorance towards him.

“oh- um,” you fumbled, thrusting the phone towards george. “it’s for you.” you smiled. his fingers brushed yours in the midst of the transaction and you shivered again. “someone’s very proud of you.” you murmured, eyes never leaving his.

you let your tongue swipe your bottom lip, hoping he knew that amongst all the chaos, you weren’t just talking about toto. it was dangerous to be so obvious in public, you could do that later, on your knees. with toto harping away in the background, george’s eyes darkened; it was too much, the adrenaline and your double meanings. dark blue eyes mentally undressed you, glancing hungrily over your body, and you felt naked in parc ferme. maybe one day you’d let him fuck you in the garage, you thought. perhaps if he won a title.

“i’ll bet.” he mirrored your action and licked his lips, the quickest wink being thrown at you, the most carefree you allowed him to be in public, and he turned his attention to your boss, who was bellowing away like the world’s proudest dad.

tonight was the night. brazil never disappointed.

-

hours passed, the muggy afternoon blurring into the hazy night. the champagne flowed, as did a few tears, the man of the moment being carried around on anyones shoulders and hosed down with alcohol. the team had craved this, worked for it, earned it. it was a bit like your relationship with george, really.

you couldn’t take your eyes off him, your entire body tingling in anticipation for later. so when it was finally time to go, you tried to slip away, get back to the hotel as quickly as you could. but of course, nothing ever got past george. he was the right amount of tipsy to grab both of your hands in his, right there at the entrance of the hospitality suite, and insist that you just share his ride back. it was stupid, utterly reckless, but you were the right amount of tipsy to accept.

hands intertwined, you stared at each other some more, until someone cleared their throat and you were being ushered out into the exposure of the paddock.

he didn’t let go and you didn’t make him.

-

he didn’t leave you any time to go back to your hotel room, coaxing you easily straight back to his. the tension between you was suffocating, it had been all afternoon, but nothing beat the journey from the track back to his hotel.

you’d gotten stuck in traffic, just as you always did in são paulo, which sent hands wandering early, carefully hidden from the driver that had the misfortune of picking you up. he trailed his fingers from your knee and up, up, up, occasionally grazing the fabric of your panties. your thighs would snap shut every time he did, your face a flaming shade of red. you looked out the window with wide eyes, trying to mask the urge to roll your hips, and all he did was stare at you, a devilish grin spread across his face.

you’d hurried out of the car, stumbling into the hotel lobby. you both did your worst at pretending that you weren’t tipsy, straight faces wavering as his hand dipped too low on the small of your back. you gave in, foolish, letting yourself lean into his side, giggling up at him with your head rested against his shoulder. your were caught up in the moment, blindsided by lovesickness, as he guided you into the elevator.

your breathing shook, fingers balled up as you tried to resist the cliche make out session in the elevator. it’s as if he could read your mind, pulling one of your hands into his and intertwining your fingers. he didn’t take it any further, not yet, knowing that no matter what the pair of you may have wanted, there was a time and a place. both were rapidly approaching as the lift reached its destination and you were let loose into the corridor. suddenly, nothing was funny anymore. urgency takes over.

down the corridor, force the key into the slot, wait for the green light. your back is against the door the second it’s been slammed shut. you’re used to this, the sudden pounce of him. your relationship survived on stolen moments and hurried touches, rapid pleasure. it was intense and the need for more fuelled you both because once could never be enough. so when he kissed you, it was quick, carrying the force and speed of a race car. you found yourself realising that for once, there wasn’t a flight to catch, or someone just waiting to interrupt, and your hands flew to his face, taking control of the pace. you deepened the kiss, slowing him down and licking your way into his mouth.

he seemed to get the hint, and you felt the slow press of his body moulding against yours as your lips moved together, nice and deep. it was different. your heart grew about ten sizes, on the verge of exploding for him. you moved across the room in some kind of trance, floating to the bed. shoes were kicked off, merc embroidered shirts discarded in a painful reminder of a pile, unidentifiable fingers working in the darkness to undo his trousers, to tug down your skirt. in nothing but your underwear, you tumbled into bed.

you were a mess of touches in the dark, clambering on top of him, his hands finding your hips. he held you tight, close, encouraging the roll of your hips and you sunk into his body. you could make out his face in the dim light, his shadowy features contorting as he lost any remaining scrap of control.

you were on your back in a blink, kisses pressed to your sternum, over the lace of your bra, peppered down your navel. your panties were peeled off, flung behind him onto the floor, instantly forgotten. he’d been waiting to get between your legs all weekend, desperate for you after the sprint, forced to wait by the reality of your jobs. he couldn’t wait any longer, wouldn’t. he slung one of your legs over his shoulder, open mouthed kisses pressed from your knee, all the way down to your inner thigh, as his arm wound its way around your other leg, spreading you open.

he was ready to dive in when you pushed yourself up on your elbows, one hand reaching down to cup his jaw, making him look at you. his eyebrows furrowed, confused as to why you’d stopped him when he could see just how bad you needed him, the way you glistened for him becoming a familiar, welcomed sight.

“george,” you breathed, “supposed to be celebrating you.” all he did was smile at you, leaning in closer to where you were aching.

“couldn’t have done it without you, sweetheart.” and with that, he escaped your hold, licking a stripe through your folds.

you fell back into the sheets, eyes glazing over and quickly squeezing shut. george was messy with it, licking into your cunt with an enthusiasm that had you arching further and further into him. his large hands gripped harder on your thighs, tightening every time you moaned louder. his tongue swirled across your folds, alternating between long laps and featherlight flicks across your clit, the differing sensations having you embarrassingly close already.

“george, stop, i’m gonna cum. want you in me. please.” you begged, warning him of just how close you were to your undoing, desperate to feel him back on top of you.

he didn’t let up for a second, barely even acknowledged you. all he did was stare up at you, amused eyes twinkling through the darkness as he doubled his efforts. all of the sudden, you were numb with pleasure, writhing against the sheets. your fingers tangled in his hair, gripping at the dirty blonde locks so hard that it must of hurt, but just like everything else you threw at him, he seemed to be enjoying it, humming into your pussy as he helped you ride out your orgasm. it all felt too much, too overwhelming; you didn’t know whether to push him away or pull him even closer.

finally the pleasure began to subside, relief washing over you for barely a second before he was pushing two fingers through your folds. his tongue continued to curl against your clit as he slid his fingers inside you. you whined at the overstimulation, grinding your hips to meet his movements.

“george, i can’t-“ you started, panting, only to be cut off.

“you’re gonna keep coming for me, sweetheart. okay?” he told you bluntly, fingers working into you quickly. “do you know why? because i won.” he smirked, “i won and this is my reward.”

you could already feel your second orgasm building, his words along making you shake, his fingers hitting your spot each time with ease. you were dripping all over him, limp from the pleasure, desperate to cum just so that he’d put you out of your misery and fuck you.

“one more for me, yeah? one more, darling, and i’ll stop.” george murmured, thumb brushing over your clit, fingers beginning a deep grind into you.

“please, george.” you whined, eyes blurry with unshed tears.

he kept going, going, going, until you were shaking once more, seeing nothing but white, hips bucking wildly, uncontrollably. he had his mouth back on you, lips wrapped around your clit and his fingers buried inside of you, until he was sure that you were finished. you laid there lifeless, the aftershocks rocking your body while he licked his fingers clean. your mouth parted at the sight, eyes fluttering shut when you felt his lips working across your thigh, to the crease where your leg met your body, up, up, up, until he was hovering over you again.

your fingers interlocked at the nape of his neck, twisting in his hair to pull him close. he kissed you, ferocious, pulling your thigh over his hip to line himself up with your entrance. your mouths fell open as he slipped inside of you, broken moans tumbling from your lips and into his mouth. you could hear his breath stuttering as he sunk deeper and deeper into you, until his hips hit yours.

“how does that feel, darling? being fucked by the race winner?” george groaned lowly, lips skimming the shell of your ear as he spoke. you tightened around him inadvertently, feeling a rush of wetness at his words.

“so good, you’re so good.” you whimpered, absolutely pathetic beneath him. all you could do was give in, let him have his way with you. it’s what you both needed.

“i know, love. i know.” he muttered, his arrogance as he fucked into you making you weaker and weaker. it was obscene, the way his behaviour was such a turn on to you. if any other man dared to speak that way, so unsubtly cocky, you’d roll your eyes and find the nearest exit. but for some reason, when george did it, you were ready to fall to your knees; you got off on seeing him succeed.

“you feel like fucking heaven.” george sighed, teeth sinking into your shoulder as he slammed into you, rhythm never faltering, hard and deep into your dripping cunt. “all i could think about in the car when i crossed that line was you. knew you’d be soaked for me, darling,” he whispered. “knew it as soon as i saw you after the race, had that look like you were just waiting to be fucked. i would have done it right there, you know, in the middle of parc fucking fermé.”

you cried out, body shuddering at his admission, completely boneless on the bed as he rocked into you. you knew you were close, urgently approaching your orgasm, wanting to get him there too. you could tell he was getting closer to his end, breathing getting heavier, thrusts getting slightly more frantic.

“come on george, want you to cum for me. need it.” you pleaded, nails raking over his scalp and down across his shoulder blades, digging in to leave red tracks down his back. you could feel him tensing under your touch, chest to chest, breath mingling as he pulled away from your neck to look at you. to really, properly, look at you.

something happened, then, that you couldn’t quite grasp. it happened all at once, something changing in his eyes that you knew was mirrored in your own, something that you couldn’t articulate, that you’d never let him see before. you didn’t know if he was feeling it for the first time, or if he was like you, too scared of reality to let it slip through. as quickly as it happened, you were squeezing your eyes shut, overwhelmed by the pleasure of having him on top of you, your legs tightening around his waist, trapping him against you.

you fell apart, levitating somewhere above the clouds, seeing nothing but white. the only thing that brought you out of it, back to life again, was the feeling of his weight crashing down on top of you, not a millimetre between your slick bodies. the groan he let out was carnal, utterly delirious as he came down from his high.

when he kissed you after, making no effort to get off of you, you let yourself have hope for the first time ever.

-

afterwards, it was quiet. it usually was between you. sometimes there was only time for the quiet moments, no time for whispers across pillows or to be held in his arms. tonight there was time. you could hear his breath slowing, you own heartbeat still ringing in your ears. next, there was the crumpling of the sheets as he turned towards you.

you were laying on your side, facing away from him. you needed these moments after to compose yourself, to take it all in before it was over again, until the next time. his hand grazed your waist, down to where the duvet covered you, grabbing softly at your hip. you could feel his body heat, turning slowly to look up at him. he was resting on his forearm, fingers trailing over any bare skin he could find.

neither of you spoke yet, there was still no need. you curled into him as he laid himself back against the pillows, enveloped in his arms. your head rested on his chest, a sense of total calm settling over you. you dreaded these moments, because it always felt the same. he made you feel safe and warm and relaxed, and it was awful. it was especially awful when there was only one race left before he would disappear off on holiday, and then go back to his family, and you’d submerge yourself in christmas drinks in london and making sure that the w14 wasn’t as god awful.

then, you’d see him again in february wondering if he’d finally gotten a girlfriend, despite that inkling of hope, or if he was bored of your face every time he shut the door of a hotel suite. you were far too scared to broach either topic and somehow he always came back to you. what if he didn’t, though? what then? you’d never be allowed to enjoy him all the time because what if? what if? you were only allowed him on the weekends. he could only be yours on the weekends, when everyone else stopped paying attention. looks shared in the heat of the moment did nothing to change that.

“i meant what i said. couldn’t have done it without you, you know.” he broke the silence, and you were thankful that you didn’t have to do it.

you let his words sink in. you hadn’t been able to before, submerged too quickly into the white hot pleasure to form a coherent thought.

“it’s a team effort.” you whispered. you didn’t move to look up at him. you couldn’t bare it for some reason.

“no. that’s not what i mean.” his voice was somewhat even, only slightly laced with annoyance. george never liked having to over-explain himself, he was very good at making people understand the first time. apparently that had never quite translated to you, too much time spent second guessing him, and more importantly, yourself.

“what i’m trying to say is thank you. for everything. for believing in me.” he murmured, lips pressing against your hairline. his fingers found yours in the dark, lacing them together. “with you, it’s a different kind of team effort. always felt like you were on my side. when i was at williams, when i joined you at mercedes, you always had my back.”

you stayed silent, unsure of what this meant, words being spoken softly into the darkness. it was overwhelming, having him vocalise his gratitude to you, something he’d never really done before.

“always knew you’d do it.” you whispered, words fanning across his chest. it was all a bit too intimate, unfamiliar territory being explored for the first time.

he turned into you, your head no longer resting on his chest, the low visibility doing nothing to hide the desire in his eyes as he leaned in and kissed you. it was slow, soft, that feeling from before nagging at you as your naked bodies moulded together. one hand cupped his neck, the other still held tightly in his.

this never happened after. ever.

how long could it last? slow kisses turned into sleep, held tight against his chest as the night faded into the misery of monday morning, and the weekend was over.

-

we love an ambiguous ending lol

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i’ve removed any tags that weren’t working! pls let me know if you wanna be added to my taglist or removed! <3

[cat3ch1sm]

Alright, first things first, I hope you are doing fine and stay positive for anything in your life, I don't know you but stay safe and healthy^^

I kinda feel bad bc I have already requested from you and I don't want to pressure you.

But I need more Kurapika context bc I have already read everything about him on here and I wanted some more

Okay, onto the actual thing now😅

I still remember that scene when Kurapika comes in the hotel with the scarlet eyes on gift package and that idk-remember-his-fucking-name rich dude which he punched later (or before?😅) started talking shit and then he said "Idc who I kill right now".

So like, what if the Reader, who has no moral compass or anything( like a Zoldyck), gets seriously enraged and starts punching and kicking him until Kurapika tells them to stop (I love the clueless with morals x no morals and entirely devoted to them)

Take your time, I don't mind, and stay safe and sound ^^

Love ya🦋

🌿~ hello, my lovely insect hashira! don’t feel bad for requesting again, you can send as many requests as you’d like. here’s your request, ily<33

☕️~ also sorry if some things aren’t totally accurate to the actual scene and stuff😭been a minute since i watched that particular arc

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ gender neutral reader (may be fem!leaning), mentions of violence and blood ahead

It was a dark night- literally and figuratively. The sky was a deep shade of blue, and it was almost midnight. But Yorknew City was far from at peace. The notoriously terrifying and powerful group of thieves known as the Phantom Troupe, or the Spiders, had just unleashed a brutal attack on the city’s largest underground auction, resulting in the disappearances and the deaths of hundreds. The whole city was in a state of chaos and panic, and the mafia group you worked for’s job was to be in the center of it- despite the state the city was in, you still had a job to do, and against all odds you’d managed to pull it off- along with your colleague, Kurapika.

Regardless of the success of your particular task, the walk back to the hotel was silent, the mood between the two of you grim. You were shaken by the loss of several your coworkers and the carnage you’d witnessed, while Kurapika, walking beside you, carried the item you’d won at the auction close to his chest, his eyes not even visible behind the shadow cast over his face. Inside the small box he held were the Scarlet Eyes- one of the only pairs left following the massacre of his family, the Kurta Clan. Despite how you may have been feeling, you knew for a fact he felt worse, knowing he was carrying the eyes of a dead family member, their memory disrespected and tarnished by the greed of the mafia.

Neither of you said anything while you were walking, the mood so heavy it seemed to weigh down on your throat, preventing you from speaking. You wanted to say something to soothe Kurapika, but you knew that really, there wasn’t anything you could say to help him, and you felt very sad for him as you watched him with his head low and his aura despairing.

It was then, though, as you two were crossing a bridge, that you saw a silhouette in front of you. It was Zenji, the short, pudgy man with a big nose and glasses that had been pestering you and Kurapika earlier as Nostrade’s bodyguards, appearing over and over again just to criticize you two and mock your skills and how young you both were, calling you both incompetent. It wasn’t necessarily a surprise that he was there all of a sudden, but you knew that it was absolutely the wrong time for him to be here. You stole a glance over to Kurapika, wondering if he saw the man in front of him, but his dark demeanor didn’t change, and he simply continued to walk.

As you two got closer to Zenji, neither of you acknowledging the man’s presence, he lifted his beady eyes and fixed them right on Kurapika. “Bastard.” He scoffed, his eyes narrowed. “You think you can just walk away?”

You figured he was talking about Kurapika’s blatant dismissals of Zenji’s insults earlier, and how Kurapika had punched him after he got a little too cocky. You guessed Zenji’s ego (and nose) had been injured, and now the idiot was here to get even. But Kurapika just kept walking, still ignoring Zenji. You knew he was in somewhat of a catatonic state after gaining the Scarlet Eyes, and you didn’t want this guy to agitate Kurapika further. So you chose to not engage simply for Kurapika’s sake, even though every muscle in your body screamed to beat this man to the ground.

He turned his attention to you now. “You too. Neither of you are getting off easy tonight.”

It took everything to not reply to Zenji, but you knew more drama tonight wouldn’t be good for you or Kurapika. So you didn’t acknowledge him, either.

Zenji was clearly agitated by being ignored, his jaw clenching as he let out a growl. “Tsk…”

Still no response from either of you.

Zenji, reaching his limit, finally reached for a gun strapped into his belt and pointed it at Kurapika, then you, then back at Kurapika. “Stop before I blow your heads off!”

“Move.”

The sound of Kurapika’s voice seemed to startle both you and Zenji, both of you turning abruptly to look at Kurapika. His voice was low and ominous, sending a chill down your spine when you heard it.

Zenji’s eyes widened with fear and fury, and he cocked the gun at Kurapika. “Don’t be-“

“Just stop.” Kurapika spoke again. Just then, you noticed an odd light from the corner of your eye- and when you hesitantly turned your gaze to Kurapika, you felt your stomach turn at the sight. His eyes were glowing a menacingly deep red, his hair hanging in loose blonde strands over his shadowy face. There were no words to describe the raw fury in his expression, and Zenji stumbled backwards in surprise, letting out a fearful gurgle.

“I don’t care who I kill right now,” Kurapika intoned, the glowing of his eyes only getting brighter and brighter as his rage increased. “And it might as well… be you.”

Zenji’s whole body was shaking now from pure fear, the only thing leaving his mouth incoherent croaks. The aura Kurapika was radiating was so intensely foreboding and malevolent that, even if it wasn’t directed at you, you couldn’t help your blood from running ice-cold. But once the trepidation settled in your stomach, you felt the anger begin to bubble up in your own mind. For someone to drive Kurapika to want to kill without cause… to awaken his fury like this- as Kurapika moved closer and closer to Zenji, who was frozen in his place, you knew instantly that you couldn’t let Kurapika go down like this. Zenji simply was not worth it.

And before you knew it, you found yourself flying at Zenji, fists raining down onto the man like a merciless hailstorm and your feet slamming into his doughy body with as much force as you could manage. Both you and him crashed to the ground, Zenji grunting in pain with every hit you delivered to him. You didn’t even really know what your goal was; all you knew was that you wanted to hurt him, swinging at the most painful areas you knew of: pummeling at his mouth, eyes, nose, and kicking at his crotch. Blood and saliva flew from his mouth as you managed to knock out a tooth, and his already injured nose began gushing blood like a waterfall. You clawed at his clothes and shattered his glasses, everything but a blur in front of your eyes.

Then, abruptly, you felt someone grab you from behind and yank you harshly from Zenji’s battered body, but you were still swinging, not ready to let him go. Zenji scrambled backward on all fours, blood staining his face and tie and his suit full of rips.

You struggled violently against the hands that held you back, twisting and thrashing in every way possible to try and break free, falling to the ground and taking Kurapika with you. “Y/N! Y/N, stop!” Kurapika shouted, keeping his grip on you despite how much you fought him. “Stop it!”

For a moment the words didn’t register, the only thing on your mind being Zenji, but when your rage-clouded mind cleared you remembered Kurapika’s voice, finally stopping your struggling. Kurapika let out an exhausted sigh. “There you go. Y/N, it’s just me- restrain yourself, alright?”

When you finally looked up at Kurapika, breathing heavily and body still heated with fury, his expression had faded from his previously seething one to a more melancholy expression. The anger was still there, of course, his eyes still a luminescent scarlet- but as he looked at you, you didn’t feel the anger as you had felt it earlier. You allowed your body to relax, slumping over a bit with your head resting on his chest. You both were sitting in the middle of the street, Kurapika behind you.

“Why did you stop me?” you asked, sounding exhausted yourself. Your fists were bruised, achy, and stained with Zenji’s blood. “I thought- I thought you wanted to kill him.”

Kurapika exhaled again, breaking eye contact with you and staring straight ahead. “It was just a warning, really. I couldn’t kill him because the repercussions would get in the way of my goals for the future.”

“So why didn’t you let me do it?” you pressed, genuinely perplexed. “I have no such compunction. I could’ve just killed him.” Your jaw tightened. “God knows he deserved it.”

Kurapika looked back down at you, the storm in his eyes settling a bit. “I’m not letting you kill anybody, Y/N- and certainly not him. He isn’t worth it.”

“Well, I don’t care,” you protested. “I still could have killed him. He doesn’t have any right to do anything he’s done to you.”

Kurapika didn’t say anything for a while, but when he looked back down at you, he had a smile on his face. Not quite a happy one, but not quite unhappy. “If I let you go after everyone who’s ever caused me pain, you’d be dead. So… just don’t worry about me, alright? And don’t do that again.”

You frowned, but reluctantly nodded. “Fine...”

Kurapika sighed again and wrapped an arm around your shoulders from behind you, letting his arm rest there. He didn’t move, the box containing the Scarlet Eyes sitting beside you. You just let him rest his chin on the top of your head. It seemed to help.

[mystic-writings]

emergency contact | jack hodgins

pairing — jack hodgins x fem!booth!reader

summary — hodgins hasn’t heard from you in over six months, after you broke up with him and disappeared. until he gets an alarming phone call in the middle of the night

warnings — angst, canon-typical violence, mentions of death

word count — 2,528

notes — a few things: i wrote this back in january, and it was rushed and poorly done but im being self-indulgent for this one | also im not tagging anyone bc i wanna see how far this will get on its own (except for my beloved @shmaptainwrites who indulged me ily mimi)

masterlist | navigation

2:47am

Despite his many years working for the Jeffersonian, Hodgins had yet to get used to his phone ringing at odd hours. With a groan and a stretch, his palm landed where his phone lay on the nightstand table. Without checking the caller ID, he picked up the phone and slurred out a tired greeting to the caller on the other line.

“Hello, Dr. Hodgins, I’m Marie, calling from the George Washington University Hospital.” Why was a hospital calling him so late at night? “You’re listed as the emergency contact for Y/n Booth, correct?”

Your name sent a shock through Jack’s body. “I— I guess so, yeah. Why? Is she okay?”

“Your fiancée was shot on duty, sir. She’s in surgery right now. We suggest you be with her when she wakes up.”

Without a second thought, Jack hung up the phone and flung out of bed. He didn’t care how things ended between the two of you, good or bad, but he knew one thing for certain: he needed to make sure you were okay. After scrambling for a decent set of clothing and his car keys, Jack rushed out of the house and down the near-empty streets to the hospital you were taken to. 

Even though his mind was running at a mile a minute, Jack managed to recall what the nurse had told him. Shot on duty. You took a sabbatical seven months ago, were you back in town? Surely Booth must’ve known, he was your brother and co-worker, he had to have. Did he spare telling Jack to avoid the inevitable turmoil? Obviously you’d been back long enough to take a case, so it wasn’t like you had decided to come back out of the blue. 

By the time he found parking, it was half past 3 in the morning, and Jack’s heart refused to stop beating out of his chest, his palms sweating rivers as he clenched and unclenched them. Despite all of this, though, he approached the front desk with a cracking resolve, trying his best to be put together for the sake of not distressing the night staff and lingering patient family members. 

“Could you tell me where Y/n Booth is?”

The nurse behind the counter glanced up at him. “Connection to the patient?”

“I’m her-” he stumbled on the words. “Her, uh, fiancé. Emergency contact.” 

She typed a few things into the computer when a voice from behind caught Jack’s attention. 

“Hodgins.” Booth called, approaching with a weary face and a cup of likely burnt coffee.

Jack nearly sprinted over to the man, blue eyes frantically searching for answers in his features. “What’s up, man? I mean, what the hell happened?”

Booth took Hodgins by the arm and led him down a hallway, over to the elevators. “We were going after a perp. I told her not to go in first, that I’d handle the hard part. She didn’t listen, the bastard got her from behind, shot out one of her kidneys. Been in surgery for almost,” he checked his watch, “three hours now.” 

Jack deflated just as the elevator doors dinged open. The pair stepped inside, the space empty apart from themselves. “I just— I don’t get it. Yesterday, she was somewhere even I didn’t know, taking some damn sabbatical. Yesterday, I was still pissed at her. Now? She’s in surgery because she was on a case. Because some asshole shot her. I mean, what the hell am I supposed to do with that, Booth?”

Unable to provide any kind of emotional support or response, Booth remained quiet as his friend tried his best not to break down in the elevator. 

When the doors opened, Jack attempted to regain his composure as best as he could while Booth led him down the hall. There was a separate waiting room here, for family members who had someone in surgery. He sat opposite Booth, next to a sleeping little girl and her obviously exhausted mother. 

He had no bearing of the passage of time, and felt as though there was no energy left within him to check the watch on his wrist. All he did was sit with his hands on his knees, head tilted to the sky, one leg bouncing like an infinite rubber ball. At some point, a doctor came out to notify the mother of her husband’s successful surgery — his tumor was gone, he’d told her, and there was little chance of it coming back. 

It wasn’t until the sun started to peek in through the waiting room windows that a surgeon called out your name. Booth had been asleep in the chair across from Jack, but he was wide awake. The pair jumped up and approached the doctor, throwing questions at him rapidly. 

“Y/n is okay. Surgery went well, though we’ll have to keep her here for longer than expected.”

“Why? What happened?” Booth asked. 

The doctor sighed. “Due to the location of the entry wound, the bullet caused too much damage to her right kidney. For now, she’ll only be functioning with one until we can find a donor match. She’ll be on dialysis weekly and some medication to assist the working kidney, but otherwise, she’ll be just fine in a week or so. The bullet did puncture the liver and small intestine, but the speed of the bullet slowed enough to only cause minor damage, nothing we couldn’t fix up.” He told them, and a wave of relief crashed over the pair. “She’s being brought up to her room now, if you’d like to go wait with her.”

Jack only nodded, Booth trailing him as the doctor led them up one more floor, where you were being transferred to the ICU. It was painful, seeing you after so  long, only for you to be hooked up to so many machines, laying nearly helpless in a bed. He pulled a chair up to your right side, reaching for your limp hand to hold, hoping you could feel him. 

Hoping you knew he was there. That you knew he always would be.

Booth leaned against the door frame, watching everything with anguish. After you left for California, you kept in constant contact with your older brother. But even in those months, you never explained why you broke off the engagement so suddenly. Why you took a surprise sabbatical, why you went to California specifically. Why you became so closed off, so cold to everyone, even to Parker. 

After a while, Booth left Jack alone to go pick up Parker from his mother’s house. He promised to be back later, your nephew in tow, and pressed a featherlight kiss to your forehead before he left. 

Jack, swimming in an ocean’s worth of thought, barely noticed the sun coming over the horizon in the window opposite him. All he could do was process the emotions flowing through him. Anger, that you left him so suddenly and without explanation. Despair, that you’d come back so long ago and didn’t come to see him, to work things out. Worry, that despite your life-saving surgery, you wouldn’t get a new kidney, or that you’d never be the same again. Anger again, but at the bastard who shot you. Triumph, that he was rotting in a cell right now. 

 Jack’s only comfort in the sterile, whitewashed room was the steady beeping emanating from the heart monitor, a small assurance that you were okay. His hand remained clasped over yours for hours, thumb stroking the smooth skin on the back of your hand. Partly as a comfort to himself that you were still there, but mostly, he believed, a comfort to you. He hoped you could feel it; that you could feel his presence. He hoped his presence comforted you. 

By the time you woke up, all the worry had faded from Jack’s body and exhaustion had taken its place. He was asleep, head supported by his arm on the side of the chair, when he heard the sheets rustle in the bed. 

Somehow, in all your years of work, this was the first time you ended up in the hospital due to a job-related injury. It wasn’t the first time you woke up dazed after a surgery with little memory of how you got there, though. 

The sheets, despite being thin, weighed down your legs and torso, providing warmth and comfort. You could feel the leads for the heart monitor stuck to your chest, irritating your skin in the slightest bit. There was a cannula feeding oxygen into your system, though it rubbed the skin on the back of your ears uncomfortably. The main thing, though, was that your torso hurt. 

Despite that, you managed to notice something weighing down your right hand. It was warm, warmer than the blankets. And heavier. Garnering the courage to open your eyes, you blinked to adjust to the sunlight and fluorescent lights, trying to shift yourself upward, wincing when it pulled on your wound. Instead, you glanced over at your hand, only to find another on top of it. Following the arm connected to it, your heart stuttered and cracked when you found a sleeping Hodgins sitting next to your bed. Emotion swelled within your chest and tear ducts just at the sight of him, sleeping so peacefully next to you, his hand over yours in a firm grasp, as if that was the only thing that assured him that you were really here. 

Slowly, quietly, you tried to pull your hand out from under Jack’s, only for the movement to wake him up. He stretched with a deep inhale, blinking rapidly as he took in his surroundings. It wasn’t until he noticed you were awake that he seemed to come to his senses. 

“Hey,” he nearly whispered. “How’re you feeling?”

You bit back a scoff. “Terrible. First job back and of course I had to get myself shot.” 

Jack fought a smile, scooting forward to raise the bed up for you to sit properly. “They said they got all the fragments of the bullet during surgery. You’re down a kidney for now, though.”

You only nodded, allowing yourself some time to gather your thoughts. “Why are you here, Hodgins?”

“Apparently, I’m still your emergency contact.” He told you, sitting back down and resting his elbows on his knees. “And apparently, I still care about you enough to show up.” 

“Don’t put that on me.” You whispered, chest restricting as tears fought their way back to your waterline. “You can’t say that to me. Not after what I did to you. You should hate me. I mean, really hate me. Like, praying for my downfall, kind of hate. You shouldn’t still care about me.”

“Well, apparently I do. I thought I hated you, for a long time. But I guess I don’t.” Jack sighed,  taking your hand. You wanted to protest, to pull away, but you let him. “I guess this was a wakeup call for me. Literally. They called me at 3 in the morning to tell me you were in surgery.”

You laughed, a wet sound underlined with sadness. “I’m sorry, Jack. Really, I am. I just…”

“What, don’t love me? It’s okay. I’ve learned to live with it.” 

Even when he should hate you, Jack still understood, and even worse, he still loved you. He was, somehow, the world’s most understanding man. God, you love him. 

“No, no I don’t hate you. Actually, it’s the opposite. I just wish things could’ve gone differently.” 

Now Jack was just confused. “What d’you mean? You broke up with me for a reason, right? You told me you didn’t love me anymore.”

“It’s too complicated, Jack. I want to explain it all to you, really, but it’s not safe. I don’t know if or when it will be, and I won’t blame you if you want to find someone else, or if you already have. You deserve to be happy, Jack. You should move on from me.” 

“I don’t want anyone else.” Jack said, emphasizing each word and squeezing your hand. “I just want you. From the moment I met you, I knew you were it for me, Y/n. Even with your brother breathing down my neck to not even think about pursuing our relationship. It was terrifying, but I ignored it. Because you were too important to have in my life. I couldn’t risk passing you up. I just don’t understand why you ended things so suddenly.”

The tears that you had been attempting to keep at bay for this entire conversation now flowed freely down your cheeks, the emotions you’d kept close to your chest for nearly a year now breaking free. Jack, like the gentleman he was, gently tilted your head toward him, reaching up and using the pads of his thumbs to brush them from your cheeks. 

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered, daring to look him in the eye. 

“Don’t be.” He whispered. 

“I have to be. I hurt you. I ruined everything. And it wasn’t even worth it. It  didn’t change anything.”

Despite his confusion, Jack said nothing. He simply stood to his full height and sat on the edge of the bed, pulling you into his chest — minding your wounds and stroking your hair. “It’s okay. You’re home now. We can fix this.”

“No we can’t.” You shook your head, looking up at him. “Jack, there’s nothing left to fix. Because if we fix it, you’ll die.” 

After what felt like an eternity of swirling, spiraling thoughts, Jack found his voice. “What?”

“That’s why I left.” You said. “I was ordered to. I was working on a case, some underground organized crime syndicate. I found out some stuff I shouldn’t have. My hands were tied, I had no choice.” Choking back a sob, you wiped the tears from your face and took a breath. “It was either break up with you, call off the wedding, and leave, or everyone I loved would die. They were gonna kill you, kill Seeley and Parker, and drain your accounts. There was nothing I could do.” 

Jack pulled you in tighter, his whole worldview shifting and turning on an axis. He couldn’t speak — hell, he could barely even think right now. Jack had spent months grieving your relationship, questioning why you broke things off, harboring a ruthless anger at what his life had become, and all of it faded to dust in an instant. 

“I don’t know what to do,” you whispered, pulling Jack back to the present. “I work with these people, Jack. They could ruin me in an instant.” 

“We’ll fix this, I promise.” Jack declared, and despite the fear that had overridden your senses for the past few months, you couldn’t help but believe him. 

You only nodded, curling further into him as best as you could with your incisions. Fidgeting with the strings of his hoodie, you listened to the beat of his heart beneath you and took a deep breath. 

Soon enough, you were drifting off to sleep with the firm belief that soon enough, with the help of your family, somehow, everything would be okay. 

if you want more jack fics, please feel free to comment and let me know!! writing for smaller characters is always a gamble but if people read this i’d be more than happy to do so!

[ideas-4-stories]

Heyyy I'm the non-sexual omegaverse anon, back in your inbox bc YES I LOVE DUMPING IDEAS ABOUT RELATIVELY SFW OMEGAVERSE-!!!!

And yeah boo, me too on the period front. I'm AFAB and SUFFERING. Essentially I consider Heats to be similar to periods - the same basic principles, cramps, cravings, odd other symptoms nobody talks about ((back pain and migraines hello???)), but Ruts are basically the same but opposite. It's a hormone rush. Both are controlled by the endocrine system, both are hormones and chemicals. Both can and do increase libido, but it isn't some absolutely feral Need To Breed type of situation.

Buggy in particular has the omegaverse equivalent of polycystic ovarian syndrome or endometriosis. Wild, heavy, wacked out Heats which knock him flat on his ass.

His main, original crew all knew of his designation bc while Buggy has megaflaws, sexism and misogyny is NOT AMONG THEM. the Buggy Pirates are actually one of the most diverse crews known. They value what you bring, not what you are.

Buggy also has a very strong scent. It's almost impossible to completely hide it, so he and his crew kind of opt to Hide In Plain Sight.

Beyond Karai Bari, the only ones who know Buggy's secondary are the infirmary workers in Impel Down, Shanks, Rayleigh, Crocus and Luffy, but the latter doesn't realize he knows nor that it's a secret. Lu was the first and only person outside of the Roger's who put together "the cute Omega bestie I had when I was tyke" and "buggy the gods damned clown" are one in the same.

After the reveal, Croc and Hawk both go through a bit of a learning curve bc suddenly "do we... treat you differently now? Like, open doors and stuff? We thought the other's did that bc they're simps but maybe we should-"

Buggy is having none of that. He is still the same Jester they had beaten the snot out if three weeks ago. His internal krgans and scent glands don't need to change anything. ((Though he is enjoying the whole not getting beat up thing, maybe keep that up please-???))

All three are kind of dumb and suck at communicating so it ends up being a bit of a hot mess. The main point if contention is Buggy thinking they're warming up to him because he's an Omega.

It's not that. Not really.

They just found Buggy going apeshit on that one Alpha bastard to be absolutely bewitching and have since realized he has been holding back on some level. Buggy in that fight was ruthless, efficient, and while it was fueled by hormones and a base instinct to protect and nurture, it was executed with skill, control and power. There is potential in that, in him. His fighting style would never be an all out brawl. But Buggy is sharp, witty, creative and could do some serious damage if he had the confidence and will to back it up. They don't care WHAT is happening in his abdomen. They're attracted to power, charisma, and apparently red nosed blue haired clowns who will not hesitate to beat a man with another man's severed arm. They were surprised too.

Shanks is both delighted that Buggy has suitors and is livid that Buggy has suitors. It's not even apossessove thing (maybe a little), it's that THAT IS HIS PACKMATE and they were RAISED TOGETHER and that's HIS BUGGY and NOBODY IS GOOD ENOUGH except maybe Mihawk BUT HE DOESN'T KNOW CROCODILE WELL ENOUGH TO MAKE AN OPINION SO THAT'S ILLEGAL.

He then cries when Buggy, upon being told this, deadpans, "Shanks, I'm a pirate. Breaking laws is kinda in the job description."

He is Suffering.

Buggy is actually doing pretty swell, being courted by two surprisingly good Alphas.

Ray and Crocus meanwhile both perk up on opposit sides of Paradise like I feel the sudden need to check on the blue one...

Anyway yeah that just seems funny and silly and am half asleep so I'll stop now but ily byeee~ 🍬🍬

Hello No-Sexual Omegaverse Anon!

Heats like periods, that would makes sense to have it like that (I hate the back pain, why is it there!?) Ooooo I really like your idea of the Omegaverse, I wish to see it more in stories and Buggy on having polycystic ovarian syndrome or endometriosis. Got to look that stuff up and indeed YIKES! Really poor Buggy, getting the short end of the stick there. At least he has great friends that he has surrounded himself with.

We stand for Buggy’s megaflaws (we ain’t here to fix him, we are here to watch him be the silly guy that he is) and of course, Buggy does NOT stand for sexism and misogyny because why does it matter if you are male, female, or inbetween. I love the idea that Buggy Pirates are one of the most diverse crews on the high seas because HELL FUCKING YEAH!!! Damn right on valuing what you bring, and not what you are. That makes sense in any workforce. If can get the job done, why does it matter about your gender/sex/sexualitly? Actaully my plan for some Buggy Pirates OCs have a diverse cast of race/gender/sexuality/etc… because A). diversy is the bomb and makes the most realstilc sense and B).Everyone being the same is. Fucking. BORING!

I love the fact that Buggy and his crew Hides in Plain Sight, this rings true in canon too… I beileve, because Buggy was always there in East Blue for anyone could put two-and-two together that Buggy was apart of Roger Pirates if anyone actaully looked. But barely anyone did because of how open Buggy is being the Flashy Fool, I mean how Buggy brags about his achivements, people would think that Buggy would brag that he was apart of the Roger Pirates. But he never did, so that’s a baseless rumor (that turned out to be true)

Ooooooo, having Impel Down infirmary workers knowing that he is a Omega might have a problem in the future… or not. It depends on who the infirmary workers are as people. Love how Luffy doesn’t care that Buggy is a Omega, just some moron clown that he kicked in the crotch in Orange town, and now onto “The cute Omega bestie I had when I was tyke” Does that mean Luffy and Buggy met before Orange Town? Albeit prending to be someone else, so when they met at Orange Town it took Luffy sometime to put two-n-two together?

Heehee, not Crocodile and Mihawk thinking that they have to act like everyone else. I mean, they should way nicer to him (indeed Buggy would really like not getting his ass beaten up), but like if they do that, it would shock the fuck out of too many people. News Coo getting this and making some drama brew. Everyone sees this, the strawhats, the red-hair pirates, and just the world in general. Chaos insues

Ahhh, don’t we all love some old men being stupid and unable to communicate with a least a speck of commone sense. It boils into a hot mess, with people crying… cough Buggy cough Poor Buggy thinking they are only warming up to him because he probably thinks they feel bad for beating the shit out of a omega when in fact it’s because he decided to beat the shit out of a disgusting alpha who was being creepy and yucky. As well as knowing that the clown has been holding back his strength and power for some reason.

I love the headcanon that Buggy can fight ruthless and efficient. Buggy ain't one for a full on brawl because he uses things in his surroundings to his advantage. Bro will use whatever, a chair leg, a metal pipe, the heel of a shoe, etc… because people fighting him are probably not fighting fair and square. Love him using his mind and creativity to win a fight. He was trained by the Roger Pirates, Buggy definitely has potential, all he needs is some more confidence and weapons to back him up.

Damn right it's nothing about what's in his abdomen. It's all about seeing the clown beating a man with another man's arm! (Love that for Buggy)

Brooo, Shanks being delighted and livid that Buggy has suitors trying to court him is so fucking funny. Because what you say is just want, I think Shanks would think, your Shanks is spot on to me. I love how Shanks is a crybaby much like Buggy, it’s just different reasons for why they cry. Love that Shanks is suffering, when Buggy just deadpans and states the obvious.

Heehee not Rayleigh and Crocus feeling like they need to check on Buggy, their parental sense is finally kicking in after years they should of have their parental sense running wild. Not the reason is because of Buggy is getting courted, like 😂🤣😂

[yumienikkie]

BLUE LOCK CHAPTER 266 SPOILERS

MICHAEL KAISER YOU MAGNIFICENT BASTARD ILY YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[miss-allsundays]

I've been reading again the bllk manga, specifically from bastard münchen's debut up to the newest chapter

kaiser is so funny???? he's so fucking annoying I'm obsessed with him

LIKE?????? "is that a new way of saying ily" could possibly be the best line of blue lock sorry isagi

[shinsukeee]

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝

THE CREATOR

Prim / Sona Yuki

"Don't worry, baby. No one's going to hurt you not when I'm here, ready to attack anyone who dares touch you or look at you that way"

HERE PRIM ISSS WOOHOOO

So Prim is her "Creator" name whereas Sona Yuki is her alias.

Pronouns are she/her, he/him, they/them

Prim's an aromantic

Biologically female

If she isn't the creator, she'd have a hydro or dendro vision.

Her weapon is a polearm (again, if playable)

She has red streaks in her hair as she did that as a joke, now she kind of (?) remembers Vox Akuma with the red streaks (I'm sorry Vox, ily <3)

She wears a silk blouse on top of her black sleeveless turtleneck

She wears rings and fishnet gloves

Somehow fucking emo, don't ask why

"It's not a phase, it's a lifestyle, BITCH" - Prim

Very flirty (usually for fan service)

She has a flirty personality due to going to cosplay events back in the real world, so she's used to being flirty, flirted upon and is used to people asking her for...regular cosplay things. (Not dirty, you hoes)

Somehow messy short hair (?) One bang covers her eyes cause she likes being a mysterious mf. This bitch [affectionately]

Has deep blue ocean eyes that sometimes changes into her natural hazel eyes.

Ocean blue eyes (as Sona Yuki)

Hazel Eyes (Prim)

Likes to keep flowers and stores them in her small box that she somehow brought with her in her black bag.

She's very fashionable af, but often dresses like an e-boy or e-girl.

When she's mad or when a situation goes out of hand, she remains quiet to avoid saying things she shouldn't say.

Somehow fucking patient and rarely raises her voice.

Can be your maternal-figure or sister-figure

When she's playful, her hands go to your neck and rests there.

If she likes a certain topic, she rambles. (Try telling her to shut up, I dare you)

If ever someone tells her to stop rambling, it breaks her excitement and she never does it again. (Try, you bastard)

Mommy and Daddy Issues

Has a fucking trauma that even her therapist can't help her

In her healing/self-love era

Trying to heal the traumatic scars

Has a dark humor often about her dead dad

Has a curvy figure. big hips big butt yk.

Her thighs are thick as well, lucky for those with thigh privileges.

Always wears this blue scrunchie a friend gave her which she cherishes deeply <3

Is aromantic but wants a gf/bf.

A green flag despite her trauma.

Sometimes acts like a man.

Often man spreads when sitting except when she wears skirts or shorts.

If she has an urge, she must do it.

Very affectionate when you're close to her, she even gives platonic kisses (not on the lips)

Often wears her black face mask (so if ever you want her to kiss you on the lips, expect a face mask to be the one blocking her actual lips.)

Very lazy but also hard working.

Don't scold her for laying down and doing nothing, she's recharging her social battery.

[stars-in-my-damn-eyes]

WOE CHARACTER BINGO BE UPON YE

obi-wan kenobi (whichever source or interpretation u wanna go with)

kendall (aurora)

erin runaseer (aurora)

roy mustang (fmab)

KENOBI: Bestie u KNOW im insufferable abt this one & i have so many opinions abt this little bastard man. Im encompassing all iterations of kenobi including thay godforsaken tv show cos look. Peak kenobi is the deconstruction of a man who ended up in a situation where he bought his own hype and then had the entire pedestal collapse out from under him and he had to drag himself out of that pit after the fact. L + ratio + you are a deeply flawed being + it's easy to look like the Ideal Jedi Knight when your literal day job is standing next to anakin skywalker and being mildly exasperated about it but ygeah

KENDAL MY MAN i will be honest i feel like. Based on how he is on paper. I should like him a lot more than i do. But thats not to say i dont appreciate him. I just think his optimism is adorable and i want to see him put through a blender. Also i dont know if im seeing the blue eyed blonde boy with ambiguously human status, a determination to help people, and mad combat gainz as vash the stampede coded bc he is or bc i really WANT him to be considering the name of the god who shat him out

ERIN RUNAASER. now there's a boy i want to see put through the blender also. I am obsessed with how he is an unusually arrogant and hubristic little bastard who pivots to self-destruction when he feels cornered. That was THE most character trait ever, i commend its existence, and i want to see him have an absolutely horrible time <3 godspeed boy i hope you have fun with everything i am psychically beaming in your direction

MUSTANG. Look. I am obsessed with him. i am Obsessed with guys who did horrendous things in their past but are not actively Evil(tm) & even firmly on the side of the Protagonists. He is the character with the single most fascinating morality ever because what he determines as "acceptable" vs "unacceptable" very sharply deviates from the kind of accepted Good Person yardstick but his worldview is still very understandable (in that it is very easy to understand why he thinks the way that he does NOT in that i agree with him lmfao), especially considering the society he lives in. I want to study him like a bug

Also the only reason i did not check "i would beat them up irl" for mustang is because he is jacked and can make fire with his science hands and i am literally an artist which means the last time i worked out was the summer of '97. so if i tried to beat him up he would immediately stop me and it would be very embarrassing so i'd rather not try.

ANYWAYS THANMK ILY <3

[thebusytypewriter]

For color thing and in order: pink, orange, and blue I will not elaborate but I feel I do not need to :>

Pink: you are just a friendly creature, you cannot change this

Orange: evil and stinky little bastard

Blue: am I haunting you or are you haunting me?

Literally went from “aww so sweet” to “hehe yeah I deserve this >:3” to “we are mutually haunting and no you cannot change this either ily <3”

[cupcakes-are-ours]

yousuke: i never considered you a rival

isshu: i never considered you at all

yousuke: now that's just hurtful

[emsleyanbluejay]

@cannibalisticcorvid is trying to bully me into writing Sammy/Marko Nonhuman AU porn and it’s not working because neither of us have any ideas for doing so.

[saphyrose]

mint, red, pink (but in a fun spooky way)

Right back atcha mate 🥰 *whacks you with a copy of the Sunday business post directly on the nose*