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smutstationchoochoo · 10 months

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Desperate

COD Men x FemReader

Hear me out: a sex pollen fic where reader isn’t affected but he is and he is gone.

Word count: ~3.6k

A/N: It’s just the poorly written sex pollen drabble of my dreams, it’s fuck or die lads. Insert your favorite COD man here. Please forgive me for any spelling/grammar mistakes and my complete lack of knowledge regarding military things, all I know is that these men are hot and I love them.

Warnings: sex pollen, unprotected PIV (wrap it up), overstimulation, dubious consent (consent is sexy folks)

Banner credit: @cafekitsune

You all had been briefed at 0200. The flight to Berlin left at 0300 where the team would be infiltrating a terrorist hideout, a suspected manufacturing site for a new chemical agent. You were told that as long as you didn’t ingest it, you would be fine.

The fact that it had been made airborne was not in the fucking briefing.

The team had been split into pairs, you and he took the North side of the suspected warehouse. The size of it should have tipped you all off. Everything was running smoothly until 3 combatants had come from the door at the end of the corridor. He called for cover and ran ahead. You dropped two before he even got a stride in. The other he disarmed in seconds and then with a deafening crack, both men slammed through a door and into the resulting room. A brief struggle then silence. You heard him start to call the ok, his voice in the comm sounding clearer than earlier, then a noise, a pop, and the sound of air. You froze, watching a gas spill from the open door and dissipate immediately. Just when you started moving again, a growling, “Don’t,” tore through the comm. Then, the sound of ripping Velcro and something hard (his helmet you realized with a sickening drop) hitting the concrete floor echoed out to you. Soft murmurs that grew into angry outbursts of fuck fuck fuck transformed into one that became a groan of what sounded like complete and utter pain. You didn’t even have to think, the severity of the situation settled in. “It’s a gas,” you barked into the comms, “Northside hit, need medevac in 30, going dark.” You waited for confirmation, seconds after getting it and receiving news that the warehouse was almost cleared, you went to find him.

You knew what it did, you all did. Jokes had been made, smirks shared, but you all knew how bad it was. You weren’t even close to prepared. He was sitting against the far wall or rather pressed into it using it to keep his now shaking frame upright, gear strewn around the room, combatant on your immediate left with a mask (his mask, the masks you all were wearing just in fucking case) gripped in a dead hand, an empty canister mockingly sitting in the middle of the room.

You gripped the combatant by his legs and dragged him to the hall, before slamming the door shut upon reentry and grabbing a near chair to jam the door. You immediately began stripping yourself of your outer tactical gear until you both matched in only your boots, pants, and base shirts and then you turned your attention to him. Now kneeling by his side you took him in, looking for any other injuries noting nothing serious. That almost made you laugh with relief until you saw the front of his pants and him frantically palming the growing outline. You swallowed and quickly looked at his face shocked back to the reality of the current situation. The usually stoic, always larger than life, incredibly strong man in front of you was reduced to tears dripping from his now blown and hazy eyes, falling down flushed cheeks and landing on the front of his shirt that clung to his hyperventilating chest. You knew he had been shot, stabbed often, and left for dead a time or two, but this…

Shiny and new neurotoxin, you remembered the brief, attacks the nervous system, causing the mark to feel intense arousal and as if they have been lit on fire, specially formulated not only to cause pain but a complete and utter breakdown of will as victims often experience hallucinations and loss of self. If left in the system, it raises the core temperature until convulsions set in, and then heart attack occurs. Do not touch it.

No one had to ask how it was worked out of the system. Then again, they all believed they were too smart to touch the shit. Couldn’t do much about breathing it in when your mask was ripped from your face though.

Your hand pressed to his slick forehead now radiating heat, and feeling as if it could burn you like an open flame. At the touch of your blessedly cool hand, he hissed a low fuck through his gritted teeth, keening into your touch. You swallowed, hand tilting his cheek to look up at you when you asked, “Can I help?” His hair was sticking up at all angles from the helmet being hastily pulled from his head, and he looked up at you and gave one weak nod, “Please.”

Upon looking at the desperation pooling in those dark eyes (those eyes you often were caught staring at) any small reservations evaporated from your body under his burning gaze. You swiftly reached out, mercifully helping him escape from the now too-tight pants, the bite of his zipper. The moment your skin brushed against the head of him he was bucking up against it. You had to reach the other hand out to steady yourself against his shoulder, another touch that jutted his hips and had him twitching into your grip.

“Is- is this helping?” you croaked out, struggling to swallow, struggling to contain the wave of arousal that was threatening to course through you. He nodded, chin slack against his chest as he watched your hand work against him, moving up and down against the veins seemingly trying to break through his skin. No thoughts went through his mind other than the knowledge that you were jerking him off and that it felt so good that he could cry in relief. But then something shuddered within him, something loud and fast like a wildfire, burning just as much, and hot thick ropes of cum spilled over your hand. He couldn’t even cry out, it happened so fast. His breath was coming out in loud pants, when a new thought, the thought that he had just come in maybe thirty seconds flashed through his mind but it was quickly replaced with the horrible realization that the feeling of being on fire wasn’t going away. It was getting worse, out of control, containment measures failed. At this, he let out a sob as his hips moved of their own volition into your still soothing grip. It wasn’t enough, he knew, you knew, it wasn’t enough.

You stood, and he whimpered at the loss of your touch but all sound stopped in his throat when he watched you decisively unzip your pants and pull them down to your ankles underwear included, kicking off a boot, and one pant leg. When you straddled his lap he desperately pulled you down onto him, your exposed core grinding down where he wanted you, where he fucking needed you, that’s when he began to talk. Begging you to help him, saying that he’s sorry over and over, that he needs your help, incoherent babbling from a breaking mind, please it hurts so bad, I-I don’t, I can’t- fuck, I need you... All cool, calm, collectedness burnt to fucking ash. Just a man reduced to pure longing and want. A longing and want that might be what was threatening to kill him, not the toxin, just the build up over the days, weeks, months he had been around you threatening to crush him. He almost wants to die, this was never how it was supposed to be. He wanted it to be good for you, you deserve that, you deserve better, he could have given you better-

But now what was he? A heaving chest under a sweat soaked shirt beneath eyes that watch you like some feral animal. Hands wanting to claw at the clothing now so heavy, hot, and itchy against his burning skin, but instead were gripping onto your hips like it’s going to save him from burning to a crisp. The broken moans tearing their way from his throat when you line up his painfully hard cock to your entrance makes you throb, and then his choking cry as you slide down on him punches the air from your chest.

“Does this feel ok?” you panted out after a moment, struggling, trying not to drown in the pleasure of him stretching you, filling you. He couldn’t form the words, couldn’t even nod. His forehead falling to your shoulder in utter relief, mouth dropped open as he repeats your name over and over like an apology, a thanks, a goddamned prayer. How all he can do is sit there on the floor of some warehouse, back against a wall, the only thing resembling his usual strength is that ironclad hold he has on your hips as he helps you drag yourself up, then, accompanied by the tortuously obscene sounds of your wetness, back down. Brokenly pleading with you not to stop, don’t stop, fuck p-please don’t stop. You feel like molten heaven against his cock, your moans like angels (or devils, he’s too far gone to care at this point) singing through the blood rushing in his ears. One of your hands again steadies yourself on his shoulder, the other steadying him, an anchor point, with your achingly gentle hold on the nape of his damp neck (so gentle that it breaks his fucking heart, he wanted to give you more, you deserved more) as you ride him. Your hips rock once more, twice more, before his body seizes up with electricity that ricochets up his spinal cord and reverberates through his skull. His fingers dig into the soft skin of your hips, teeth grinding and eyes slamming shut, as he releases inside of you with a shattered cry. The sound of you gasping, now clutching, raking your fingers into him, has his hips continuing their rutting up into you, pushing his cum as deep as he can within your walls.

He stills for 10 seconds at most, panting breaths thunderous between you two, before pulling you into his chest, his hips slamming up into you, hard and hot as if he didn’t just fuck you until he could see every neuron firing behind his eyes. His hot open mouth finds your shocked one in a perfectly surprised “o,” more apologies pushing from his lungs and into yours between loud wet kisses as he listens (is blessed with thank you God) to you beginning to come apart. You couldn’t help it, as you ground down into his thrusts, even though you knew the threatening climax was going to be terrifying. Your breathing was ragged now as well, the air becoming harder and harder to drag into your lungs in between you cursing and moaning, and then- fucking hell- you’re at the precipice. Before you can even utter a syllable you are being flung over the edge. The pleasure rips through you, waves breaking against the rocky shore, with such intensity that it hurts, causing you to dig your nails into his skin, and bright spots to dance behind your closed eyes while the distant feeling of wetness registers from between you two. He explodes again with a gasp, feels you clench around him like a vice, his name, his real name, forcing its way from inside you and into his mouth with every pulse and it tastes so so good that he can’t stop, he never wants to stop, just filling you up until it drips from you, filling you with him because you’re his, his. Even when you both whimper and shudder with overstimulation, his arms shaking in their grip around you, he can only press his forehead to yours, rolling it desperately, as he begs for your forgiveness. I can’t stop, it won’t stop, I’ll make it good, please next time I’ll make it good.

“It is good,” you whisper to him with hitched breath from each thrust, trying to reassure him, “It’s ok, it’s ok.” You don’t know if he can hear you, his eyes are wild and don’t seem to even register that you are actually on top of him, that he’s inside of you, that he has made you yell out his name over and over and over. You don’t think he even knows what he is saying. Next time.

His own voice comes to him from somewhere far away, through the flames licking at his mind, please- fuckin’ hell please, just a little more- I just need one more, I need you, please don’t stop, I don’t want to stop nearly unrecognizable as he comes inside you again and again and again.

It isn’t until the medevac came and he was sedated that what just happened began to sink in. For a week, a fucking week, he’s in critical condition. No one talks about it, at least not in the way you all did before this. You saved him, you’re told. You don’t want to think about it, if you think about it then you think about how good it felt, how fucked it is that it felt good, and how everything is gone. If you think about all he said, you’d overthink, give meaning where there was none. He probably won’t be able to look at you anymore. You went to see him that first day. You sat next to him for mere minutes before bolting, the fear of him waking up and looking at you with disgust, telling you to get out in that icy voice you knew so well, sent you running straight to the mats to train until you wanted to scream. That’s all you did now, and that was where you decided you would stay until you died. That is until someone came and found you, told you he was awake, and that he had asked for you. The whole walk to the infirmary had adrenaline coursing through you, you wanted to run, to fight, to freeze right there in the hall and never move another fucking muscle. The thought of losing him, him being there but not wanting to be near you anymore made you feel sick. It had been so long, so long of repressing those feelings that flared in your chest when he smiled at you during sparring, the feeling of him seated next to you on a flight, his eyes catching yours just so you could stay with him. Well, you thought with dripping ire, that had literally and figuratively been fucked now hadn’t it?

You knocked, heard his gruff voice, and entered. You stopped dead in your tracks three steps into the room after mistakenly looking up and finding him staring at you from where he sat on the edge of the bed, already dressed, looking like he was about to head out on another call. You were desperately trying not to shake but your hands gave you away. You could take on a man twice your size without batting an eye but this?- you were terrified.

The moment you walked into the room, all his time that morning when he first woke thinking about what he would say to you, how he could face you, was knocked from his mind. You had saved his life. He never wanted that. He wanted to give it to you, it was yours after all. He didn’t know when it had become yours, every single part of him, but if he had to wager a guess it was the moment he found you in his life. And it might all be ruined.

The memories had started coming to him immediately after waking up, almost more clear and real now than in the moment. It jolted him awake so hard that the attending ran into the room for fear that his hammering heart had in fact given out. Once his breathing had calmed a little, he tried to sift through the fog. His recall of the smell of you, the arousal dripping from between your legs, mixed with your sweat and the familiar scent of your grapefruit and ginger shampoo, nearly pulled a groan from his chest. The soft touch of your hands, cool and strong against the fire that spread through his blood, had brought him back. The feeling of you breaking, the soft whines, the way you said his name… the things he had said, he couldn’t just shut the fuck up could he?

He had to bring his hands up to cover his eyes, willing the images to go away, just for a moment, please, he just needed some time, if only he had time- next time. Next time, he had told you. A desperate promise, a reassurance, trying to tell you that it wasn’t just the chemical coursing through him, it wasn’t just his hijacked nervous system. Did she know? Did she understand? That’s when he asked for you, without thinking, just wanting to see you, to explain. He had never been good with words unless it was biting sarcasm across comms or coolly delivering ultimatums in an interrogation. Then he remembered, the thing that sent his heart barreling through his chest for the second time, the machine next to him screaming. It is good, you had said, it’s ok, it’s ok, you had whispered.

He ripped the monitors off his chest, ignoring the doctor's protestations, found the clothes that had been brought in for him and got dressed. Now that you were standing here before him he was unsure. You looked scared, and he could count on one hand all the times he had seen you in such a state.

His staring was unnerving, more unnerving than if he had shouted, yelled, grabbed you, anything but this, this was fucking torture. You had to leave, just get off base, go somewhere, anywhere but here- the sudden sound of your name shook you from the reverie. The tone had your eyes finding his immediately.

He stayed seated, scared that if he stood, if he made his way to you, you would run, and you both knew that you were much quicker than him. If you ran, if you left, he would never catch up. Only when his knuckles began to ache did he realize how tightly he was gripping the edge of the mattress in an effort to keep himself there. It was hard to look at you and not remember the way you had looked when you pressed your hand to his forehead, when you had thrown your head back in pleasure, when you had grabbed his face when he was too exhausted to continue but thankfully no longer felt like he was burning alive. It was hard to remember and not stride across the room and hold you. He took a breath and forced his shoulders to relax in a way that he had done so many times before.

“I-,” he started, his voice cutting through the room, his normal voice, the one you recognized as him and it set you slightly at ease from sheer familiarity, “I’m so sorry.” Now he had to turn his eyes downcast.

“What?” Your response, the shock in your voice, forced him to look at you again. Your hands itched at your sides, confusion rippling across your face.

His eyes narrowed, he knew you so well. Always blaming yourself. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, “I’m sorry that happened, I’m sorry you were put in that position,” the word choice made him nearly cringe. He continued, “I never-I didn’t want it to happen that way.”

Your brain jolted, standing there in shocked silence, his words thundering through your ears accompanied by the pleading of next time.

He pressed on, desperately trying, “I know you, you’re going to think this was your fault. It wasn’t. There was nothing either of us could do, thank you for your, uh, help. Just- fuck, please just say some-,”

Shock still swept through you, the words escaped your mouth before you could think, “Did you mean it?” You figured by the way he leaned back that he knew what you were talking about. Then he held out a hand, palm up, an offering. Before you knew it, you had crossed the room, putting your hand in his and letting it gently pull you between his legs. His giant frame meant even sitting on the gurney that his gaze was level with yours, and those eyes searched your own when one word sounded through the room.

“Yes.”

This word broke you. One fucking word, one word that answered every glance between you two, every smile shared, a word you brokenly whispered into the night when you had a hand between your legs thinking about him knowing you shouldn’t. You hadn’t cried all week, but now the giant tears rolling down your cheeks felt like a release. When his free hand, warm and rough, swiped them away you couldn’t help leaning into it, just as he had done. All tension, all fear, dissipated from the room. That hand continued to just below your ear, cupping your neck, and gently pulling you forward to press his head against yours, eyes shutting, just resting there against each other in the moment.

“What the fuck are we gonna do?” you sighed.

You could feel the smirk that you knew was slipping across his mouth.

“Well, I did say next time.”

This time when you rode him with the small bed creaking beneath the movements, he stopped you any time you tried to speed up (it was your turn to beg and plead), keeping you at a languid torturous pace. That way the bastard had all the time in the world to whisper into your mouth, letting you taste each word, all the things he would do to you next time and all the times after that.

Thank you so much for reading, please let me know what you think! :)

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daisynik7 · 7 months

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Pairing: Takuma Ino x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~1.7k

cw: explicit language, mentions of a popular horror movie, smut – PIV sex (cowgirl position), nipple play, blow job, mask kink, slight degradation (slut, whore), use of pet names (cutie, sweetie, baby)

Summary: You and your new boyfriend Ino decide to watch a horror movie together in honor of spooky season. Halfway through, he notices how skittish you are, making him want to play a silly prank on you with his signature ski mask. It’s all fun and games until he realizes that you actually like seeing him in this way more than he anticipated.

Author’s Note: Happy October y'all! What can I say, I am VERY into Takuma Ino right now and I just had to get this out of my system. This is barely edited or proofread, sorry for any grammar mistakes or typos, I really was just letting my fingers fly through this in a moment of passion LOL. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated, thank you for reading! MDNI banner by @/cafekitsune.

You turn off all the lights, the only source of illumination coming from the TV screen, paused at the very start of the movie you decided to watch tonight. With a big bowl of freshly popped kernels in your grasp, you huddle beside your boyfriend, Ino, on the couch, covering both your legs with a fleece blanket. He wraps his arm around you, pulling you in closer, reaching to grab a handful of popcorn to stuff inside his mouth. “Ready?” he muffles, pointing the remote to the screen, finger pressed to the center button.

Nuzzling your head against him, you answer. “Yup!”

It’s apparently one of those cult classic horror flicks according to Ino, who recommended it when you mentioned how you wanted to watch something scary for October. He’s seen it before, many times in fact, but he insists that you watch it. He has no clue how frightened you get over the silliest things, so tonight will be a treat for the both of you.

The opening scene plays out: a beautiful blonde picks up the phone and the conversation ends quickly short because it’s the wrong number. Normal so far, good. It rings again, but now the caller seems interested in talking. Do you like scary movies? Do you have a boyfriend? The man’s voice gives you the creeps, and you find yourself shuddering from it, cuddling closer to Ino, who glances at you with a smirk on his face.

You never told me your name.

Why do you want to know my name?

Because I want to know who I’m looking at.

This line gives you goosebumps and you lift the blankets up to hide behind it. “Ew, creepy!” Ino only laughs, throwing a few more pieces of popcorn into his mouth.

It escalates from here, getting increasingly chaotic and violent. By the time you’re halfway into the film, the bowl is down to its last kernels and you’re crouched in Ino’s lap, peeking through your fingers. He pauses the movie after one particularly brutal kill. “Snack break! I’m going to make some more popcorn and go pee.”

“You’re leaving?!” you whine, clinging on to him as he tries to get up.

He chuckles. “Babe! It’s just a movie. I’ll be right back, okay?” He kisses you on the forehead, heading into the kitchen, leaving you alone in the living room.

Of course it’s just a movie, but you can’t help feeling creeped out in the dark like this. You reach for one of the nightstands, turning on the lamp. You hear the drone of the microwave, and after a minute or so, the distinct sound of popping. Eventually, it comes to a stop, and the entire house is eerily quiet. You’re tempted to call out for Ino, wondering where he is, but you remember that he had to use the bathroom.

Suddenly, a shadowy figure appears right behind on you on the couch, grabbing your shoulders and shouting gibberish at you. You scream bloody murder, ready to punch him and run away when Ino lifts his ski mask up to reveal himself, tears streaming down his face, cracking up at you.

“Ino!” you yell at him, slapping his hands away from you. “You fucking asshole!”

He doubles over, cackling, wiping his eyes. It takes a good while for him to regain his composure as you glare at him, arms crossed over your chest. “I’m sorry, baby. I just couldn’t resist.” He sits beside you, stretching his arms out for a hug. “You have to admit, that was fucking hilarious.”

You shake your head, refusing. “You’re such a dick.”

“Oh, come on! It was just a little prank. Now you’ll be way more prepared for the rest of the movie!” He pulls the mask over his face again, everything covered except the holes for his eyes. “See? Not so scary anymore, right?”

You inspect him carefully, still pouting, not saying a word.

“I’m sorry, sweetie. Truly. I promise not to scare you again.” He scoots towards you, nudging you in the arm.

You roll your eyes at him, relaxing. “Fine.”

“Can I get a kiss now?”

He tries to lift his mask up, but you stop him, pulling it back down. “I don’t want to see your face right now. I’m still annoyed, you know.”

“Aw man! Really?”

You hoist it just past his nose, leaning in to give him a soft kiss on the lips. When you break apart, he smirks at you. “You like this, don’t you? Seeing me with my mask on.”

You shrug, a sly grin on your face, neither confirming nor denying his accusation. Sure, you were a bit upset at first, when he scared the shit out of you. But seeing his face covered like that may have sparked a desire in you that you never knew you had, until now.

“Oh my god! You do, you do!” he exclaims, shaking your arm. “My cutie has a mask kink!”

“Shut up, asshole!” you yell at him, pretending to shove him off, smiling.

“You’re a fucking freak!” he giggles, pouncing on you. He starts tickling you along your ribcage, causing you to squirm beneath him as he straddles you, trapping you between his legs. His fingers flutter under your arms, stroking your sensitive skin.

“Ino!” you cry out, laughing from the sensation.

You can feel his cock growing hard in his pants, balls heavy on your stomach. Suddenly, he stops, mask still folded to expose his lips, leaning down to kiss you sloppily. He pins your hands above your head, locking his fingers with yours. He slips inside your mouth, grazing your tongue with his, hungry for your saliva. “Fuck,” he moans into you, nipping at your bottom lip. “You like this freaky shit, don’t you? Nasty slut.” His playful tone is laden with lust now, low and sultry, mouth brushing along your neck, sucking at your pulse points to mark you.

You whine his name, wrapping your legs around his waist, grinding yourself against him.

“Look at you, getting so fucking dumb all because of my mask,” he purrs. “What else turns you on, cutie? Tell me.”

Without thinking, you blurt out, “Spit. Your spit. I want it.”

“Oh shit,” he swears, licking his mouth. He traces the outline of your lips, beckoning you to open up, dribbling a thick wad of saliva inside you. You gulp it down, sticking your tongue out for more.

“Oh fuck, you’re nasty,” he says, doing it again. “Makes me so fucking horny seeing you like this. Seeing my cutie act like a fucking whore.” He slips beneath your shirt, fondling your bare breasts, flicking your peaked nipples with his thumbs.

“Fuck, Ino,” you whisper, pussy throbbing in your panties, arousal leaking through the fabric.

“You like it when I play with your tits, huh?” Like it when I pinch them hard like this.” He squeezes them between his thumb and index finger, enough pressure to stimulate you, making you moan his name again and again.

He swears under his breath, shoving his pants down his legs, shimmying out of them until he’s only in his underwear now, erection stiff in his boxers. “You gonna suck my cock now or what, slut?”

You nod, kneeling in front of him, knees on the carpet, spreading his thighs apart. He lifts his ass off the couch to slide out of his boxers, letting them fall around his ankles. You kiss the tip of his dick, smearing his precum around your lips like gloss before swallowing him into your mouth.

He lets out a drawn out, “Fuck,” watching you with wide eyes as you bob up and down his shaft. Voice shaky, he asks, “Can I put my hands on you?”

Something about him in this ski mask makes you want to be submissive, makes you want to be used. You grab both his hands, guiding them towards the sides of your head, giving him free rein to manhandle you.

“Holy shit,” he murmurs, gripping you tighter, gradually thrusting his hips in tandem with you. His cockhead hits the back of your throat, teasing your gag reflex, but you resist, tears collecting in the corners of your eyes, enduring it.

Noticing you, he pulls out, a string of spit between you. “Baby, baby. Please don’t force yourself. I don’t want to hurt you.” He reaches to his side, grabbing a tissue from the table beside the couch, wiping away the spit around your mouth and the tears in your eyes. “Come here, cutie. I want to make you feel good too.”

You strip out of your bottoms, straddling his lap, pussy wet and aching against him. He moans as you rock back and forth on his shaft, pressing his thumb to your clit, massaging it. “There we go. Now we both can feel good, yeah?”

After a few more strokes, you beg him to fuck you, lifting up to guide his cock inside you slowly, sinking down on him until he bottoms out. You bounce on him, his hands gripped to your waist, guiding you, moaning your name between expletives.

As you approach your orgasm, you pull up his mask, placing it on his head as he usually wears it. He smiles brightly at you, nuzzling his nose to yours. “There’s my pretty girl. Can you come for me now? Come all over this cock?”

You kiss him passionately, arms wrapped around his neck as he thrusts into you, hands squeezed on your ass now. You reach your climax, moaning into his mouth. He comes with you, shooting his load deep into your womb, filling you up with his cream pie. The two of you continue to kiss slowly, catching your breaths. He caresses your back while you melt into his embrace.

“We need to establish a safe word,” he suggests, cradling you in his arms. “I want to make sure I’m not hurting you.”

You hum into his skin, saying the first thing that comes to mind. “Popcorn."

He chuckles, stroking the back of your neck gently. “Alright. Popcorn it is.” A beat later, he exclaims, “Popcorn! I totally forgot about the popcorn!”

You laugh, giving your boyfriend a wet smooch on the cheek.

#takuma ino #ino takuma #takuma ino x reader #takuma ino smut #ino takuma smut #ino takuma x reader #takuma ino x you #ino takuma x you #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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versadies · 3 months

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in a world of boys, he's a gentleman! (various x gn!reader)

SALUTATIONS. in a world of boys, he's a gentleman!

ADDRESSED. alhaitham, zhongli, wriothesley, and neuvillette (x gn!reader)

STAMPS. the little things they do around you that remind you that chivalry is not dead <3

CONTENT. ooc!neuvi (?), ooc!wriothesley (?), fluff/no-angst, established relationships, possibly cheesy (i like cheese), and possible grammar errors. some of the things mentioned can be applicable to others!

POST-SCRIPT. can you already tell that these four own my heart? i love them sm ( >-< )!!! also made new banners for a change hehe

LINKS. masterlist \ taglist

Although ALHAITHAM is someone who prefers to focus greatly on himself and prioritizes his own well-being over others', that does not mean he is selfish nor inconsiderate. Which is why it is not far-fetched for someone like him to do the little things that proves the fact that chivalry is not dead.

Though of course, he does it in his very own way. You just have to be very observant to notice it.

For instance, whenever you two are sitting in front of the table, he’d cover the edge whenever you lean down to get something that fell from the table, ensuring that you don’t bump your head from the furniture and get hurt.

Another instance is when you’d rant on and on in his presence, thinking he’s not listening to you due to his earpieces that’s used to cancel out meaningless noises. When in reality, he’s actually listening to you — because to him, your words are always something of importance to him whether he’d admit that or not.

It doesn’t even matter if you’re talking about your day, complaining about prices, or even expressing your concerns over things you shouldn’t even be concerned about; he’d listen without a word if not necessary, because if it’s important to you, then it’s important to listen about it. Though of course, the only exceptions are when you’d actually talk about something he doesn’t care about, such as gossip.

Meanwhile, in the bustling marketplaces of Sumeru, there’s bound to be scammers preying on oblivious consumers, and Alhaitham sees to it that you won’t fall for such things. It’s partially one of the reasons why he always tags along with you whenever you shop for groceries or for other things.

If a scammer tries their shot, they’ll only be greeted by a stern warning glare from the scribe as you look through the displayed products, only for your lover to drag you to a more appropriate stall that’s much better than the suspicious one.

During the later stage of your relationship when you moved into his humble home, he made sure to have enough space for your things, and even sacrificed some of his own possessions for the sake of yours.

Speaking of sacrifices, there are also times when he’d sacrifice his leisure time that he values in order to hang out with you. Despite your assurances that he doesn’t have to spend time with you if he wants to be alone, he doesn’t care and still hangs out with you anyway.

In his perspective, it’s not a sacrifice, because spending his spare time with you is much better than spending it alone.

It’s the little things that remind you that he does care. Though, you couldn’t help but try and confront him about his actions since you want to hear it from his mouth.

When you do though, you’ll only get a deadpan look from him and a few words:

“Isn’t that the bare minimum of what boyfriends should do anyway?”

ZHONGLI is no doubt a traditional gentleman when it comes to not just you, but also towards anyone around him. Of course, you’re still special in his eyes. After all, you’re his darling gem who is above any other treasures that he’s come across in this lifetime.

He always checks up on your well-being with care and tenderness that often causes your legs to become jelly-like. He never fails to bring heat to your face from how sweet he is!

Like your average traditional gentleman, Zhongli gives you his coat as soon as he sees even a slight sign of you feeling cold from Liyue’s breeze, caressing your arms with his glove-covered hands while he’s at it. Not that you’re complaining, especially from how good his cologne smells from his coat that just made you a little in a daze.

He’s willing to open doors for you to enter first, no matter your gender. He doesn’t want your hands to get dirty from door knobs that have been through things that only Celestia knows what, so he insists that he shall open them for you. In a way, it sounded a bit over the top, but how can you say no to such a kind man like your lover?

He sees to it that you’re the first one to be seated before him, pulling out a chair for you before sitting next to you. It’s almost essential for him to sit next to you, as if you’re a light that he finds himself drawn to.

When it comes to eating together, he offers you a bite of his meal that he either made or ordered, wanting you to try the delicious meal that’s made with precision and passion and appreciate it with him (though it usually ends up with him giving you more bites of it like a grandma would to her grandchild). Whenever he does this, he makes sure to blow the food first before giving it to you, not wanting your tongue to get burnt by accident. He even goes as far as putting his hand beneath the spoon to ensure nothing will spill on you and your clothes.

Traveling is also to be expected when you’re with Zhongli, with you two visiting different areas of Liyue for a variety of reasons such as work, vacation, leisure time, etc. Whenever you two travel, he’s always there to give you a hand, especially when climbing up and going down.

He’ll even go as far as putting his coat down on the ground for you to sit on to avoid your clothes becoming dirty should you two ever need a break, not wanting you to get too exhausted from your trip.

Of course, we cannot forget how Zhongli has a sharp memory, so he knows the exact day for your relationship milestones and would never forget it. Expect him to celebrate things such as your first date-sary, monthsary, first kiss-sary, and the list goes on until you eventually tell him that most people (if not all) wouldn’t celebrate most of these things.

That doesn’t stop him from greeting you with such occasions though ^^

It’s clear to see that the consultant loves you dearly and wants the best for you. The same goes to his dear friends and peers around him, and you couldn’t be all the more grateful to have such a man like him as your lover. In fact, his amber-hue eyes that you always seem to lose yourself to shines much brighter when he’s kind.

“Why are you smiling? Is there something on my face?” He’d ask you when he catches you admiring him from your place.

“Nothing. I just want to admire how perfect my boyfriend is.” You sigh dreamily, looking at him happily. “How are you such a perfect spouse?”

He chuckles in response, now putting down his tea. “I beg to differ. Especially since the most breathtaking person in front of me is more worthy of such title.”

It’s no lie to everyone in the Fortress – both inmates and guards alike – that WRIOTHESLEY adores you, even if he wouldn’t outright admit it. Though his words are nothing but silent, his actions speak louder. Out of the very few people that the duke trusts, you’re the one that comes to mind, and the same goes for you towards him. He’s quite honored that you trust him enough to let him become your spouse, and what better way to express that than actions?

You’re rest assured that he always has tea saved for you whenever you come and visit his office. When you do, he always makes sure to pull out a chair for you to sit on, pour your cup with your drink of choice before pouring his tea on his own cup.

For a man such as him, he’s observant and is quick to notice when someone is uncomfortable – in this case, you. As soon as he takes note of your discomfort or uneasiness, he is quick to comfort you and assure you that all’s well as he either swiftly takes you away from the scene or finds a way to help you go through it.

With that in mind, Wriothesley understands if you find yourself preferring the world outside over the Fortress of Meropide. He gets it! He’s content with you just visiting whenever you can. He knows not everyone would be keen on staying in the stronghold prison for a long time, especially when they have no reason to besides visiting their spouse.

Unless you’re an actual criminal, then that’s when you entirely have no choice but be stuck in the fortress and with him until you’re free to go.

Speaking of criminals, danger lurks everywhere in Fontaine. You certainly can’t blame your lover for being quite protective with you, often telling you through his letters to be careful with going out at night and to not fall for any scammers or tricks by possible criminals that are still out there. He’s aware that you’re more than capable of protecting yourself from danger, but it doesn’t stop his worries even for one bit.

It’s not common for the Duke to come out from the Fortress and visit the city. When he does, there’s a huge chance that he’s seen with you, holding your hand as you two go on with your day as a couple. He does not show affection in public much, but that doesn’t mean holding hands would hurt!

To others, he always seems so calm and collected on his own, but in comparison to how he acts with you, he’s much more content and relaxed, as if he’s in a utopian paradise that he feels at peace in as your laughter and voice soothes his unfaltering spirit.

Should you ever ask for a mora of his thoughts from how distracted he was during your time spent together, you’ll only gain this response:

“Hm? Oh, forgive me for being distracted. You don’t have to worry about it.” He’d say casually, hiding the fact that he’s simply distracted from thinking about how much he wants this kind of experience to last forever.

Given that NEUVILLETTE is unfamiliar with human customs and feelings, the same goes for his unfamiliarity in the romance department. He didn’t think he’d end up courting someone, let alone form a personal relationship – especially since he avoids such things. However, you’re somehow an exception.

His experience in the court is unfortunately not enough to help him with his goal in winning your heart, yet somehow, he finds himself in a relationship with you. Though inexperienced and busy, he still has his perks that makes it up – such as his mannerisms.

Just like Zhongli, he’s quite a traditional gentleman. Not only will he help you sit down by pulling out a chair and remove your coat, he’d even make sure that none of your clothes, accessories, and even your hair would get caught in the furniture’s ornamentation to avoid the same inconveniences that he goes through in his daily life.

He tends to hold your hand when the two of you go through the seats of the Opera Epiclese to watch a performance, dragging you to the best seat in the middle of the front row as he helps you become comfortable. After watching your first performance together, he never thought that watching a performance could be so enjoyable when you have companions to share the joy with. Where were you in his entire life?

On another note, Neuvillette is the type to carry your bags whenever the two of you go shopping or when he sees you holding something heavy, wanting to ease your burdens and struggles swiftly as he insists that he should help you. You should be able to have your hands free like a dove in his perspective.

It shows that he’s willing to help you with anything you need, whether it’d be giving wise advice, getting something, lending a shoulder for you to cry on, and anything else so long as it eases your struggles.

Given that he’s still exploring human customs and feelings, he entrusts you to guide him through it, and this means that he’s open with new things that he hasn’t tried before so long as it doesn’t clash with his busy schedule.

He doesn’t mind doing particular activities with you, be it pot-making, watching documentaries, playing classic games, and the list goes on! If he has you by his side to try everything, then he’s okay with it all.

Speaking of activities, Neuvillette has taken a liking for walking in the rain. He even fantasizes about going out into the rain, wanting to feel the raindrops pouring on him as he walks down the streets of Fontaine.

Despite enjoying such joys, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t consider your comfort with the weather. Knowing how humans are with not wanting to become wet from the weather, your lover is there to help you in holding an umbrella that he’d bring should he hear any forecasts of rain beforehand.

He makes sure that the entire umbrella is on you and stays that way, and he simply wouldn’t forgive himself if he sees even a few drops on your clothing that he could’ve prevented despite your assurances.

If you ever expressed your concern of him getting drenched and possibly sick from the rain, he’d simply reassure you that it’s nothing to worry about, telling you that he does this very often whenever it rains.

“Don’t worry about me, ma moitié.” He says with a tender gaze as he continues to walk side by side with you, holding the umbrella above you. “I will not get sick easily from the weather, nor do I mind having my clothes drenched. I want you to worry about yourself more.”

PENPALS. @scaraslover @saving-for-xiao @dawgimsohot @ragnvdnr @chiruru @aqualesha @renamichii @mrkamisato @shenhesl0ver @serami00 @serenareiss @hiqhkey @emperatris-rinaka @bystander36 @irisxiel @ladycoleigh @034ven @dear-dairiess @owozi8 @hadesaedes @chiro-chiro-kun @hersscherofyatta @mariusvonhangme @yuzuricebun @nejibot @hoshikistarlette @solaaresque @crowbird @lordbugs @flowersforayato @headintheclouddd @estelwrld @giyusimpsassemble @irethepotatosblog @moonlightaangel @alice0blog @shotosbrainrot @sniffoat @chihawari @mxsomn @kuni-kuzushii @jiminscarmex @mitsukii14 @ylimeprive @sachispet @loreleis-world @sn-owo @starforecasts @someonetookmynamelmao @ceylestia @astrequa @ymikkos @reallysporadicarcade @melodyyamino @dudufodd @somberrock @yevenly @lemontum @nghing @shaiah @miss-lady-witch @yashe @imkaaayy @badlywrittens @0rah-s @totallynotaraidensimp @garlicforthewin

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urfavlarry · 1 month

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SBG characters getting caught making out with their s/o

warnings: making out, bad grammar, swearing

A/N: If you haven’t read part I, go read that as well!! :D and also if you want a part III with any other characters i’ll make one (I won’t do Logan cuz tbh I think he just wouldn’t do that kind of stuff)

Part I Part II

Ben Clark

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Yall would be at his house in his room when Aiden just randomly barges in cuz Aiden is just wild

You would have to be the one to initiate the make out probably cuz I believe he’s pretty shy when doing these things

You would guide him but once he gets it it’s like he is EXPERIENCED

Heaven fr

You would have music in the background

I really think ben would be into like System of a down or korn

You wouldn’t hear him over the music so um that would he a bit awkward

Ben would probably notice and quickly pull away

You would just look at Aiden with a pissed expression and flip him off haha

Yall would NOT be doing that ever again (at least not at his house)

Ashlyn Banner

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Yall would definitely not get caught tbh

She had great hearing after all

She would hear the person coming 5 minutes early HAHA

Would just go and lock the door like “bitch you ain’t disturbing me and my s/o”

Let’s say she didn’t have her super hearing and blah blah blah yeah how would that go?

She would yell at the person tbh and then she would just huff when they leave and ramble to you on how stupid that person is

“I swear some people need to learn how to knock like it’s a great invention.”

“Calm down honey it’s—”

“Don’t fucking honey me.”

“You know you love it.”

tsundere-ish type

IDK WHY SHE JUST GIVES THAT KIND OF VIBEEE

Would definitely be at least a bit of embarrassed

Just give her some kisses and call her pet names I believe she would melt haha

Barron

(if anyone knows his last name let me know)

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OKAY YALL HEAR ME OUT

Ik he bullies Logan but his design is just 🙏🛐

On my knees fr (i might have a type)

Anyway! You guys would be somewhere at the arcade with his friends probably and he would just call you to the back of the arcade where ppl smoke

He would flirt with you sm, kissing from your forehead, down to your jawline and then neck

Tbh I think he would be a bit experienced with this shit

Would be a pretty good kisser like a solid 8/10

Would fr pin you against a wall and all that kind of shit when one of his friends wanted to go smoke and saw you guys

Barron would fr kiss you deeper like he ain’t ashamed of you tf

Would just flip the guy off while kissing you

His friend knew better then to stay and quickly went back inside, deciding it was a good day to save his lungs LMAO

“Barron um, he.. kind of saw us?”

“What? Am I not allowed to make out with my s/o?”

“But I thought you—”

“I’m not ashamed of you, you’re gorgeous~ Let them be jealous.”

Barron you fucking bi—

He would rub it in when you guys come back to the group

He have your hand in his or a hand on your waist

Would kiss your cheek in front of his friends (would fr be smirking at the mf that interrupted you)

Just Barron doing Barron things

#ashlyn sbg x reader #ashlyn banner #ashlyn sbg #school bus graveyard ashlyn #ashlyn banner x reader #sbg ben clark #ben sbg x reader #ben clark sbg #ben clark x reader #sbg ben #barron sbg #barron school bus graveyard #sbg barron #sbg barron x reader #school bus graveyard fanfiction #school bus graveyard x reader #school bus graveyard

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sunnymoonxx · 3 months

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❝what was rule number #2 again❞ I.| bucky barnes x reader

pairing: tfatws bucky x reader summary: messing around in banner's lab, the night before your mission wasn't as good an idea as you thought, and you begin to question your actions the moment you step out of it. things worsen when you realize the super soldier serum isn't immune to an unknown contagious disease. warnings: sex pollen, no warnings this part, the II one? hahaha

a/n: I may have insulted the reader a few times in the beginning, so I apologize for that. but let's be honest, we'd do the same. I decided to split this fic into two parts because if I wrote it all into one part, it'd have 10k words. I'm not an english native speaker, so forgive me my sins and bad grammar if you find something.

m.list

You weren't stupid. But you also weren't exactly smart. If you were, you would've minded your own business, stayed in the gym, and went through the plan for tomorrow's mission. Maybe even go to bed a little sooner, to be ready for the next day's alarm. But Banner was away for a business trip, and seeing his lab silent and alone didn't exactly sing you lullabies to sleep. That's why you found yourself standing in the heart of it at 3 a.m., in your pajamas, praying everyone was asleep. It was well known around the compound that Banner's and Stark's labs were a faraway island, and anybody with a brain would circle around them. But you were an excellent swimmer and sharks didn't scare you.

10 hours later, you realised why Banner turned green every time someone even glared the glass door of his science play room. You were a fast swimmer but not exactly a bright one. The only bright thing related to you was that you were easily struck by it. And the glowing pink flowers in Doc's terrarium took you down faster than the sharks. It was bright pink with purple shadows. It reminded you of passionflower, but it was bigger. Way bigger, and you weren't sure if you were hallucinating, but the feeling of the flower's filaments moving was too strong. They were moving in waves, then circles, then each moved in its own way. It was mesmerising.

It was too late before you realized you moved the flower out of its enclosure to get a closer look at it. The smell hit you hard, filling your brain with colorful fog. You smelled a dash of cinnamon, mixed with ginger and lavender. You couldn't miss the powerful vanilla and pumpkin filling up the room. You didn't realize how bad the consequences of smelling Doc's flower would be until you came undone under your fingers nearly seven times. And it still wasn't enough. The scheduled time of your and Barnes' meeting was quickly approaching, and your skin didn't feel less on fire than it did two hours ago.

You managed to get out of the sweaty mattress and put some clothes on you, loose ones, hoping that your skin could breathe a little. You prayed some air would cool you down, clear your head, and slap some sense into you. It was now obvious why Banner was so determined not to let anyone close his lab. He was experimenting with aphrodisiacs, and you, unwillingly, became one of his lab rats. Thoughts didn't stop multiplying in your head until one landed steadily on its feet. Tony has been visiting Doc's labs the last few weeks, five minutes on the dot after curfew. You knew because you were always stationed on your balcony, which gave you a clear view of the other building, and its glass windows didn't hide much. It only became pitch black when Tony came in, and Banner didn't even flinch when he heard the door shut.

Chuckle left your lips when you connected the dots, ignoring how amusing you must look for Barnes, sitting right next to him.

"Something funny?" he asked, not dropping his gaze off of you. You were now on your way to the target's last seen place, being lucky enough to get a ride in Tony's self-driven car. You wanted to drown him in kisses because you can only imagine the suffering if you had to walk all the way from the compound to the other side of the city. Your skin was still on fire, your hair was sticking to your neck, and salty drops chased each other on your skin. You certainly were an amusing sight to Bucky. Or a terrifying one. You wished he got used to it by now. After all these years of fighting against each other, then with each other, and now forced to fight by each other's side, he saw you through worse conditions. But as far as he knew, you were locked in your room all week. You had no reason to look like you had an early meeting with the reaper.

"Just, thinking," you mumbled back at him, forcing yourself to keep your head rested against your seat, begging your body to not betray you for looking back at your partner. Your body fighting the chemicals in your body, you could only imagine how it would end if you stared at Barnes for more than five seconds. Worse, let alone if you touched him. You read about aphrodisiacs and scientists' failed attempts to know what you were going through. You were prepared to die before touching Barnes.

You were secretly jealous. It wasn't fair of you, but Barnes' serum running through his veins protected him from anything related. You almost abandoned your morals, but the pain you were going through justified it. You had no idea how you were going to focus on the mission, communicate with James, and, if it came to it, fight the target. You could only focus on the heat between your legs and how touch-starved you were. And your, undeniably, attractive coworker wasn't helping the case.

You and James had a complicated history. Both born in the 40s and dated for a while before he fell from the train. Years later, he comes to kill you for Howard's successful experiment on you. Immortality would definitely suit HYDRA and their planned assassinations. James, back then, the Winter Soldier, failed to capture you, so they decided your family's fate. And your friends. Then, years later, Howard's. You forgave him. All of it. Because you knew it wasn't him. But when he came back from Wakanda, with no traces of HYDRA in him, and didn't spare you a glance, you couldn't forgive him that. Seventy years of tolerating the actions HYDRA made him do, and he couldn't even look at you. It broke your heart but rather to act like a cunt than a weepy baby, begging for attention that will never come.

"Well then, do it fast. We're almost there." You hear his grumpy voice, making the butterflies in your stomach double their count. The decades-old memories of you together overwhelmed your brain like a tsunami. You couldn't swim out of that. The way his tongue circled your clit as you played with his hair at the theatre restroom. Or when he made you ride his face with Steve in the house. The way he pounded into you against the wall so you wouldn't forget him when he gets shipped out the next morning. And the way he had to cover your mouth that night at the bar, celebrating his unit's rescue. Now he was sitting millimetres away from you, and he wouldn't have done any of it. You still hoped, subconsciously, he'd dick you down like he did all those years ago. But that was a fantasy. Very vivid, real fantasy.

"Yes, sir," you let out, closing your eyes, tugging on your shirt so your fingers wouldn't accidentally slip in between your thighs. You didn't wanna make a scene. Even tho at some point, you knew you would.

You didn't catch James' hungry gaze when he heard those words slip from your mouth. At the back of his head, he reminiscent the amount of times it was him, slipping out of it.

It took you exactly 17 minutes before you got yourself out of Tony's car. You accidentally grinded yourself on his leather seats, causing you to accidentally moan, and of course, Barnes caught it. He'd never miss that sweet sound leaving your lips. At nights, he wished he'd made you sound like that, even louder. But that was ages ago, and you were over him. It was the only thing that made sense to him.

Five minutes into your romantic stroll to the target's office, the wetness in your panties got worse. You figured the more you moved, the less it hurt, but the pleasure doubled. And the Avengers training lessons didn't exactly cover how to act if you're orgasming every five seconds just because your thighs rubbed against each other.

Correction, you didn't actually cum. It was more of a frustrating edging that made you wanna rip out your hair. You were sure Barnes had already figured something was off or had at least suspected something. The suppressed moans and the tugging on your crotch weren't exactly subtle.

"Alright," he stopped walking, a few meters away from a huge building. It was surrounded by a deep forest, straight from a horror movie. "he was last seen inside. If Steve's correct, we should..." You kept nodding, not actually paying attention to what he was saying. It was the way his metal arm moved when he talked and the way his fingers curled while explaining the plan. You never got the answer to your question if he could feel through his amputated arm. He had to, you thought. You heard him groan every time someone pulled it too hard. You were embarrassed how much it roused you when you heard him whimper in pain, but it was also one of the things that circled your head when you were alone in your room.

You'd imagine, would it feel different. It would definitely be cold, rougher, you suspected faster. And with the serum running in his veins, he'd definitely last longer. That, you were one hundred percent sure, for it was Natasha's moans you heard for over two days after she and Steve finally hit it off. But Nat was also a super soldier. Bucky would probably tire you out by the 2nd round. But you were willing to risk it.

"If you're not gonna be listening to me, then you can turn around and go back." Was the first thing you heard after you forced yourself out of Bucky's hand around your throat fantasies. It probably wasn't the best idea, but seeing Bucky frustrated and annoyed by your incompetence made you feel things. And you wanted more.

"Whatever you want, Sergeant." You smirked, walking past him towards the building. His smell punched you in the face, making your walls clench around nothing. Fuck. Your self-control was harder to put in check. You were sure in a few minutes it'd be non-existent.

"Whatever is your problem today," you heard him behind you. You didn't look at him, focusing on keeping a steady pace towards the building so you could finish the job, get home where you could fuck yourself to oblivion. No one, but your fingers were currently available. And even they couldn't sometimes do the job you needed. But you knew whose would.

"I'm talking to you." Your heart dropped when his hand landed on your shoulder. Your skin got warmer again, and the pulse between your legs was impossible to ignore. You didn't know if you wanted to kill him or fuck him.

Ideally, both.

Turning around, you found the strength to twist his arm, finding out it was his human one, making it easier to push him back. He looked so taken back that it was amusing. But not amusing enough to stop the aching of your cunt.

"Touch me again," and I won't answer for the consequences. You wanted to add. But you didn't. Instead, you stared back at him, praying to god you'd drop dead or something would happen to stop the throbbing pain. You wanted to push your pants down and do something about it, but Bucky's presence wouldn't let you. It would, seventy years ago.

God, the number of times he made you rub yourself in front of him, fuck yourself while he watched. Couldn't he do it now? You'd happily obey.

"You've been acting distant ever since morning," he said, taking a step closer. "I just wanna know what's wrong," he said, lowering his voice at the end. You were sure it was just the stupid plant making you see things, but Bucky's dark eyes were hard to miss. Or the sweat on his forehead. Or the way he clenched his jaw when his eyes dropped to your lips.

Your heart sank. Holy fuck.

You couldn't help but laugh. It was, after all, comical. You looked manic but that didn't bother you. You felt so many emotions at once that you struggled to choose one.

"What the hell are you doing," you heard his voice interrupt your laugh. You were out of your mind. Your legs weak and sweaty, your cunt covered in your wetness, your head filled with migraine, skin on fire, and thoughts surrounding only one thing. And now, cherry on top, you realize Banner discovered an aphrodisiacs that make the super soldier serum its bitch. James motherfucking Barnes joined the lab rats of Banner's sex research.

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writersblockiskillingme · 5 months

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The Great War | Finnick Odair

Pairing/s: Finnick Odair x fem!reader

Summary: After everything that you've been through during the rebellion you finally found the peace with Finnick.

Warning/s: angst with happy ending, hurt/comfort, war, weapons (reader has a knife), bow and arrows, trident, axe, syringe, violence, fighting, Katniss gets struck by lightning, blood, trust issues, attempted suicide (not graphical, but it's talked about), wounds, pills, trauma, Finnick ALMOST dying, Snow's execution and Coin's death, possible grammar and spelling mistakes

Author's note: Once again, a fic inspired by Taylor Swift's song (are we really surprised?)

My knuckles were bruised like violets

Sucker punching walls, cursed you as I sleep-talked

Spineless in my tomb of silence

Tore your banners down, took the battle underground

And maybe it was ego swinging

Maybe it was her

Flashes of the battle come back to me in a blur

The heat was getting to your head, it was staring to be too much. It already was.

The holes in your bodysuit that were the consequence of the poisonous fog were everywhere it seemed like. Your hair was sticking to your face because of the sweat from the intense heat and exhaustion. You gripped your knife that seemed to fit you a little too perfectly. The golden earing that Haymitch gifted you so that Katniss could recognize you as one of her allies was hitting the side of your face as you ran to the lightning tree.

You were terrified. You were in on the plan to get Katniss out, of course. Everyone except Katniss and Peeta was.

You did your part. You joined Johanna and cut out the tracker inside of Katniss' arm. But that's when things went wrong. One of the carriers attempted to attack you. It was dark, tropical trees were everywhere, you couldn't see anything. You didn't know who attacked you. All you knew was that you pushed Katniss away to keep her hidden and Johanna ordered you to run while she distracted the person who tried to attack. For a moment you stood there frozen, hesitant. Johanna Mason then swinged her axe at you and you had no choice but to bolt away as fast as you could.

Your mind was racing too fast. Finnick. Katniss. You had to get to that tree to make sure that they are there. That they are okay because you were one hundred percent sure that if they weren't you would lose your mind. You would become the madness itself.

You didn't hear anything but two pairs of footsteps running somewhere north from you. You kept running, trying to ignore the intense dehydration, heat and exhaustion. But as you didn't hear nor see Johanna after a while you started to seriously regret your decision.

You pushed your was through to the lightning tree. You didn't have time to catch your breath because it was immediately knocked out of you as you saw Katniss pointing her arrow at Finnick. He was still holding his trident, but you know that he wouldn't use it even if she did shoot him.

"Katniss!" Your raspy voice yelled out, Finnick immediately turned to you. A look of relief washing over him as he saw you.

"Remember who the real enemy is." Finnick reminded the girl on fire and at that moment realization washed over her. You could see it.

She looked at Beetee who was unconscious behind her. The coil was still there. She quickly picked it up, wrapping it around her arrow before pointing it at the sky.

At that moment both fear and adrenaline washed over you. She was going to blow up the arena once the lightning strikes the tree.

"Katniss!" Finnick's voice rang out. "Get away from that tree!"

You started to panic. You were getting out of time. Finnick, Katniss, Beetee and you were the only ones who came. Johanna was nowhere to be found. Peeta didn't return yet. Your ever racing mind pushed you to run towards Finnick as fast as you could.

"Katniss, get away from that tree!" Finnick's voice rang out once more before you saw it.

Katniss pointed at the sky, the lightning striked the tree and she let the arrow fly.

The last thing that you saw was the bright light from the lightning, a bloody screams that left Katniss' and your mouths and a painful grunt from the love of your life before the mere force of the lightnings hit sent you flying into the trees behind you before the darkness overtook you.

Once you woke up everything was hurting you. You felt so numb. You felt so numb yet you somehow felt everything. It was truly horrific.

The oxygen mask was planted onto your face as your eyes scanned the unknown territory. Everything was white and so clean. You turned your head to the side and spotted Katniss Everdeen, still knocked out beside you, and Beetee, not that far away from you. He was still unconscious, too. At that moment, you felt panic arise in your chest, consuming you. Where was Finnick?

You violently ripped the oxygen mask from your face as you stood up, ignoring the sharp pain that traveled across your body. What were you going to do? You patted your thigh, but your knife was gone. You knew that you weren't thinking rationally, but you never did when it came to him.

You spotted a see-through box a few feet away from you. A syringe was in there. It was filled with an unknown liquid, but you guessed that someone knocked you unconscious with this so you took the risk as you placed the syringe in the palm of your hand.

You strolled silently towards the door. You jumped a bit as the door suddenly opened. You raised the syringe in the air, ready to attack anyone who stood behind the door if you needed to.

You felt yourself slowly lowering the syringe in your hand as you saw who stood in front of you. Haymitch and Plutarch Heavensbee. You made it. You were relatively safe. But not seeing Finnick didn't calm your nerves. If anything it just fueled the fire in your veins.

"Where is Finnick?" You hissed out, your voice dangerously lowered that you scared yourself for a brief moment. You knew that you probably looked like a mad woman, but you didn't really find it in yourself to care.

"Y/N." Haymitch slowly approached you, he raised his hands in the air in front of him as an attempt to both calm you down and show you that he won't hurt you. "He's here. On the chair, he's still unconscious."

You turned to look at the side that Haymitch was pointing at and there he was. In a blue shirt that was too big for him. You threw the syringe onto the desk in the middle of the room as you stared at him. Relief washing over you like the waves back at your District.

"What happened while I was out?" You asked Haymitch waiting for an explanation as you didn't take your eyes off of Finnick.

"We couldn't rescue Johanna and Peeta." Haymitch sighed, he was obviously afraid that you would try to attack again and this time succeed after you hear the news that he had for you. "They still have trackers in their arms. We cut Finnick's, Beetee's and yours out after we rescued you."

He stopped here and you waited. You waited for his words to finally hit you.

"The Capitol took Peeta and Johanna."

Out of nowhere, the darkness overtook you once again. The last thing you remember was Haymitch catching you in his arms and Finnick yelling out your name.

All that bloodshed, crimson clover

Uh-huh, sweet dream was over

My hand was the one you reached for

All throughout the Great War

Always remember

Uh-huh, tears on the letter

I vowed not to cry anymore

If we survived the Great War

The room of the hospital wing at District 13 was dimly lit. The cold metal walls of one of the hospital rooms felt like they were closing in on you, cutting the space for you to breath. Perhaps that was one of the reasons as to why your breaths came in ragged gasps as you suddenly woke up from your state. You sat up in your bed, sweat-soaked and still trembling. Another nightmare. The same one that haunted your every dream, every night, since the first night that you left the arena from your games. The arena, the blood, the faces of those you had to kill. Everything came back to haunt you once again.

Suddenly the door slid open with a harsh, quick movement.

Finnick slept in the room next door. You knew he was there, even before you heard the footsteps approaching. Pretty soon your suspicions were proven to be correct. There he was, shirtless and disheveled, concern etched on his face.

"Y/N." He whispered, crossing the room in a few strides. His arms enveloped you, pulling your crying, shaking form close to him providing the protection that you needed. "Another nightmare?"

You felt yourself nod, burying your face in his chest as you tried your hardest to just dissappear. His skin was warm against your cold, tear stained cheek, a stark contrast to the icy memories that plagued you.

"I can't escape them, Finnick." Your voice shook, a sob at the tip of your lips. "Their screams, the blood... everything. I relive it each and every night since that year."

He held you tighter, his fingers tracing soothing circles on your back.

"You're safe here now, darling." He murmured. "We're in 13. The Capitol can't touch us here." He talked, as if he tried to remind you where you are right now, trying to pull you away from the horrific nightmare that he was oh so familiar with himself.

"The guilt is eating me alive." Your voice cracked, a silent tear sliding down your cheek. "I killed them. How can I possibly live with that?"

Finnick tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. His sea-green eyes bore into yours, fierce and unwavering.

"My love, listen to me." His soft voice spoke to you. "We all did what we had to do. The Games were a nightmare, but we made it out. We're alive."

"But at what cost?" Tears welled up, threatening to spill. "I can't forget their faces. The ones I killed. The ones that I left behind..."

"You promised me something, remember?" He wiped a lost tear away with his thumb. "Back before I was forced to send you into that arena alone. You promised me that you will survive and come back to me. You did."

"I know, but-"

"No buts." His voice was firm, it reminded you of the time that he trained you before you went into the arena for the first time. Back when you two were just a mentor and a tribute, nothing more. "You're so much stronger than you think you are, love. We all carry scars, but they don't define us. I want you to promise me something now."

"And that is?" You asked him as you kept your eyes on him.

"Promise me that you won't cry anymore. Not because of the Capitol or the nightmares. We survived, Y/N. And we'll keep surviving."

You hesitated, but then you nodded. "I promise."

"Good. Now get some rest. I'll be right here when you wake up." Finnick pressed his lips to your forehead, a gentle kiss that sent warmth through your veins.

As you settled back against the pillows, his arms were still wrapped around you, giving you sense of protection you came to a realization that maybe you could find comfort in the darkness that seemed to constantly try to consume you. With Finnick by your side, the nightmares seemed less terrifying, and the promise that you made him that night felt like it will last a lifetime.

And so, in the quiet of that hospital room in District 13, underground, you closed your eyes, vowing to keep your promise. No more fear, you knew that you would be all right as long as your love was next to you.

You drew up some good faith treaties

I drew curtains closed, drank my poison all alone

You said I have to trust more freely

But diesel is desire, you were playin' with fire

And maybe it's the past that's talkin'

Screamin' from the crypt

Tellin' me to punish you for things you never did

So I justified it

The sterile white walls of District 13's hospital pressed in on you, suffocating you, stripping you of fresh air that your lungs needed right now. You sat at the edge of your hospital bed, your fingers tracing the material of the purple medical bracelet around your waist that said that you were "Mentally disoriented". The label of the chaos that boiled within you.

The doctors came and went, you heard their voices, but they didn't reach your brain, your messed up mind. They offered so many pills, you didn't even know what pill was for what anymore. They offered therapy sessions and worst of all, sympathetic glances. They looked at you like you were broken and you were, but you hated it with burning passion. Yet after all of that, you couldn't trust them. Not after everything that you went through. The arena, the cruelty of the Capitol, the loss of your friends. The nightmares that still clung to you like shadows, following your every step, and the darkness that constantly threatened to swallow you whole.

Finnick sat beside you. His hand brushed against yours, a silent reassurance. His eyes held a depth of understanding. The kind of understanding that came only from someone who survived the horrors too immense to name.

"You don't have to face this alone." He said softly. His voice was your lifeline, pulling you back from the endless abyss. "Y/N, let them help you."

"They don't understand, Finnick." You whispered in the quietness of the room. "They can't understand."

"Maybe not, but I do." His thumb traced circles on your palm.

"Finnick, I-" You met his gaze, the weight of your pain reflected in his sea-green eyes.

Before you could finish, though, he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours. It was a desperate kiss, fueled by fear and longing. His mouth tasted of salt and the sea.

"Don't shut me out." He murmured against your lips, his voice sweater then honey. "I can't lose you, too."

"I'm broken, Finnick." Tears welled up blurring your vision.

"No." He said fiercely. "You're not broken. You're a survivor. And you're mine."

Finnick pulled you into his arms, holding you as if you were fragile glass. His heartbeat echoed against your chest, a rhythm of hope.

"Promise me." He whispered. "Promise me that you won't try to leave me behind again."

The memory of the razor blade, the cold metal against your skin, haunted you. You'd wanted an escape, a way to silence the screams of your fellow tributes that echoed in your mind. But the doctors had intervened, wrestling the blade from your trembling hand.

"I promise." You choked out. "But what if I can't keep it?"

"Then I'll be here." He vowed, his grip on your hands tightened. "Every step of the way. We'll fight this darkness together."

And so, in the sterile hospital room that you were forced to stay in, Finnick and you clung to each other. The fragile threads of two broken souls entwined. Finnick's love was a lifeline, pulling you back from the blink. You closed your eyes, willing yourself to believe that survival was possible. Even when the nightmares threatened to consume you.

All that bloodshed, crimson clover

Uh-huh, the bombs were close and

My hand was the one you reached for

All throughout the Great War

Always remember

Uh-huh, the burning embers

I vowed not to fight anymore

If we survived the Great War

Uh-huh

The air was thick with tension, the walls of District 13 trembling as the Capitol’s bombs rained down upon them. Finnick now stood alongside you, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. His sea-green eyes were filled with worry, and you could feel the rapid beat of his heart against your chest once again.

The lockdown sirens blared, drowning out the screams of panic echoing through the corridors. People rushed past you, seeking shelter, but you and Finnick remained rooted to the spot. The world outside seemed to blur as you clung to each other, seeking solace in the midst of chaos.

“Y/N.” Finnick whispered, his lips brushing against your temple. “We’ll get through this. Somehow we always do.”

You nodded, your fingers tracing the contours of his face. His stubble scratched against your skin, a familiar sensation that grounded you. The Capitol had taken so much from both of you—the Games, the torture, the loss—but here, in this moment, you had each other.

The bombs continued to fall, shaking the ground beneath your feet. You pressed your cheek against Finnick’s chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing. His hand slid down to your lower back, holding you close as if he could shield you from the destruction outside.

“I love you.” you murmured, your voice barely audible over the chaos everywhere around you. “After all this is over, I promise I won’t fight anymore. No more battles, no more bloodshed.”

Finnick’s grip tightened. “Y/N, you don’t have to—”

“No.” You interrupted. “I mean it. We’ve both seen enough violence, lost enough people. If we survive this war, I want a different life. A peaceful one. With you.”

His eyes searched yours, and for a moment, it felt like the world had stopped spinning.

“A peaceful life...” he repeated, as if testing the words. “Together.”

“Together.” You nodded, your heart swelling with determination.

And so, as the bombs continued to fall, you made a silent vow. You would survive this war, not for the rebellion or for justice, but for the chance to hold Finnick Odair in your arms without fear. To build a future where love could flourish, where scars could heal, and where promises were kept.

In the chaos of District 13’s lockdown, you clung to each other, two souls battered by the storm. But love was your anchor, and as long as you had that, you knew you could weather anything—even the wrath of the Capitol.

It turned into something bigger

Somewhere in the haze, got a sense I'd been betrayed

Your finger on my hair pin triggers

Soldier down on that icy ground

Looked up at me with honor and truth

Broken and blue, so I called off the troops

That was the night I nearly lost you

I really thought I lost you

The hallway was dimly lit, the flickering fluorescent bulbs casting eerie shadows on the cold metal walls. You stood there, your heart pounding in your chest, waiting for Finnick. The room where the victors were supposed to meet felt like a prison. A place where memories of the Games and the Capitol’s cruelty still lingered.

The rebellion had succeeded. The Capitol was in chaos, its once-mighty regime crumbling. But victory came at a cost. The mutts, the twisted, genetically engineered creatures, had nearly taken Finnick from you. Katniss had told you about it, her voice raw with emotion. How he’d fought tooth and nail, how he’d almost been torn apart.

And now, as you waited, your fingers trembling, you couldn’t shake the image of his bloodied form from your mind. The way he’d looked at you before leaving for that final mission, the promise in his eyes, the unspoken words that he will return to you alive, in one piece. You’d clung to that promise, held it close like a fragile flame in the darkest of nights.

The door creaked open, and there he was, Finnick Odair, the boy with the sea-green eyes and the tragic past. His hair was disheveled, his skin pale, but he was alive. He stepped into the hallway, and you rushed to him, throwing your arms around his neck. His scent, the salt of the sea that carried itself back from your home, the tang of sweat, filled your senses, and you buried your face in the crook of his shoulder.

“Finnick.” you whispered, your voice breaking. “You’re here. You’re alive.”

His arms tightened around you, and for a moment, you forgot about the war, the mutts, the bloodshed. It was just the two of you, clinging to each other like shipwreck survivors in a stormy sea.

“I promised, didn’t I?” His voice was hoarse, but there was a hint of a smile. “I always keep my promises.”

You pulled away, your hands delicately framing his face. His cheek was bruised, a gash running along his jawline. But his eyes, they held a fierce determination, a fire that refused to be extinguished.

“You idiot!” you said, your voice trembling. “You almost died.”

“But I didn’t. And I won’t. Not as long as you’re here.” He leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours.

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you kissed him, desperate, hungry, as if you could swallow away the pain, the fear, the memories. His lips were warm, tasting of salt and survival. And in that kiss, you made a silent vow, a promise of your own.

“After this war...” you whispered against his mouth, “we’ll find a place where the sea meets the sky. Somewhere far from the Capitol, far from the Games. We’ll heal, Finnick. Together.”

He kissed you again, and this time, it was slow, tender. “Together.” he murmured. “Always.”

And so, in the hallway of broken dreams, you held each other, two fractured souls seeking solace. The victors’ meeting could wait. For now, all that mattered was this fragile moment, the taste of salt, the warmth of love, and the promise of a future beyond the horrors of Panem.

We can plant a memory garden

Say a solemn prayer, place a poppy in my hair

There's no morning glory, it was war, it wasn't fair

And we will never go back

The air in District 13 was thick with tension as the rebels gathered to witness the execution of President Snow. The Capitol had fallen, and the weight of years of suffering and loss hung heavily on everyone's shoulders. Finnick, like always, stood beside you. His hand found yours, fingers intertwining as you both faced the president.

The crowd murmured, their collective breaths held. The noose tightened around Snow's neck, and the man who had orchestrated so much pain and death finally met his end. You didn't feel relief; instead, a hollow emptiness settled within you. The cycle of violence had consumed too many lives, and you wondered if it would ever truly end.

After the execution, you and Finnick retreated to your small quarter that was given to you at the presidential palace. You packed the few belongings you had left, folding clothes and tucking away mementos. Finnick watched you, his eyes shadowed by the ghosts of the arena.

"Y/N." he said softly, breaking the silence. "We've survived so much. But now… maybe it's time for something different."

You turned to face him, your heart aching. "Different how?"

He stepped closer, cupping your cheek. "Peace, Y/N. We've fought, bled, and lost. Maybe it's time we find our own peace."

His words resonated within you. You thought of the horrors you'd witnessed—the Hunger Games, the rebellion, the deaths of friends. The scars ran deep, and you wondered if healing was even possible.

As if sensing your turmoil, Finnick pulled you into his arms. His embrace was both tender and desperate.

"We finally get to leave." he murmured against your hair. "Find a quiet place in 4, away from the chaos. Somewhere we can heal."

"But Katniss…" you began, thinking of the broken girl who had become the Mockingjay.

Finnick kissed your forehead. "Katniss will find her way. She's strong. And she has Peeta."

The next morning, you stood with Finnick on the platform in front of the train that would take you to District 4. Katniss approached, her eyes red-rimmed from grief and exhaustion. You took her hands, feeling the weight of her pain.

"Katniss, don't do this to yourself anymore, I beg you." Your soft voice reached her ears. "After everything… we'll try to find the peace we all deserve. I hope you find it too."

"Also, there is something that Finnick and I wanted to let you know before we leave the Capitol." you said gently.

She looked at you, her expression wary.

"I'm pregnant." you announced and Finnick's grip on your waist tightened.

Katniss blinked, surprise flickering across her face. "Pregnant?"

"Yes." you confirmed. "And Finnick and I… we've had enough bloodshed. It's time for us to find peace. Back at 4. Because we both know that we can't do it here at the Capitol."

Katniss's lips trembled. "Take care of each other." she whispered. "And write to me. Tell me whatever you need."

"We will." Finnick promised, placing a hand on her shoulder as he spoke. "And Katniss, find your own peace too. You deserve it the most."

As the train pulled away, you glanced back at Katniss. She stood there, a lone figure, watching you both leave. The world outside blurred, and you clung to Finnick's hand, knowing that this journey was about more than survival, it was about reclaiming life, love, and hope.

Together, you and Finnick leaned against the window, watching the landscape rush by. The Capitol, the districts, and the scars of war faded into the distance. Ahead lay an uncertain future, but for the first time, it felt like freedom.

And as the train carried you away, you whispered to the wind.

"Peace, Katniss. May you find it too."

To that bloodshed, crimson clover

Uh-huh, the worst was over

My hand was the one you reached for

All throughout the Great War

Always remember

Uh-huh, we're burned for better

I vowed I would always be yours

'Cause we survived the Great War

The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a warm golden glow over the coast. You sat on the weathered driftwood, your sundress billowing in the breeze. The waves crashed against the shore, a rhythmic lullaby that matched the beat of your heart.

Finnick was out there, his laughter carried by the wind. He chased their little daughter, her giggles like music. She had his sea-green eyes and your stubborn spirit. Her tiny feet left imprints in the wet sand, and you watched them both, the man you loved and the child you'd brought into this world.

His white shirt clung to his chest, the fabric darkened by saltwater. His light brown pants were soaked, but he didn't care. Finnick had always been at home in the sea, a merman with secrets hidden beneath his skin.

You traced the delicate band on your finger, the wedding ring. The day you'd vowed to be one with Finnick forever played in your mind. The sun had been just as golden then, and the waves had whispered promises. You'd said "I do" with the ocean as your witness, and it felt like the universe itself had blessed your union.

Beside you layed Katniss' letter. Her words echoed in your head, a mix of sorrow and hope. She'd lost so much, fought so hard. But now, finally, there was peace. Peeta was by her side, both of them were healing together. The Mockingjay had found her song and it was a bittersweet melody.

You closed your eyes, feeling the salt spray on your skin. The sea had witnessed your love, your pain, and your victories. It had taken so much from you, the Games, the rebellion, the scars etched into your soul. But it had also given you Finnick, your anchor in this tumultuous world.

As if sensing your thoughts, Finnick approached. His hair was tousled, his smile soft. He sat beside you, your daughter nestled in his arms. She clutched a seashell, her eyes wide with wonder.

"She's growing up so fast." you murmured, leaning into Finnick's warmth.

"Too fast." He kissed your temple.

You glanced at the horizon. The sun was a fiery ball, sinking into the water. "Katniss wrote that Peeta and her found peace."

"It's about time." Finnick nodded.

"We've all shed enough blood for an eternity, perhaps even more than that." You rested your head on his shoulder.

He intertwined his fingers with yours. "Maybe now we can heal."

The waves whispered their agreement. You looked at your daughter, at the man who'd become your heart.

"We'll find our peace too, won't we?"

Finnick pressed his lips to your forehead. "After everything… we deserve it."

And as the sea sang its ancient song, you knew that love, like the tides, would flow. But here, by the coast, with Finnick and your daughter, you found solace. The wedding ring glinted in the fading light, a promise etched in metal.

Katniss's words echoed once more:

"May you find peace."

And you believed that you finally had.

Uh-huh

I would always be yours

'Cause we survived the Great War

Uh-huh

I vowed I would always be yours

TAGLIST:

@randomgurl2326 @caroline-books @hellonheels-x @livingdead-reilly @thecrowdedstreetin1944

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channelinglament · 1 year

Text

Sksjdjjkskskskskksk

I know I should be focusing more on reqs, but I had to take this off my mind skskksskks (btw I'm rn in the underground belobog part of story) (I kinda called it SAHSR as in self aware hsr)

☆•°Self-Aware Honkai Star Rail°•☆

Tw: no proofread, mentioned drowning(but it didn't happen), war, hate, religious themes, self awareness, kinda ooc, grammar mistakes because I am typing this at 12AM instead of sleeping, isolation

So, you know how in the beginning we play as Kafka? Yeah, I'm pretty sure she felt your presence. At first she was kinda weirded out, and was on guard. Who knows what you would do to her, while controlling her?

Oh look, you're helping her.. Hmm, maybe you aren't that bad after all. Still on guard, but thankful. With you she seems to fight more faster and is more efficient.

Same goes with Silver Wolf. They don't seem to mind your presence that much.

You even helped them to pick a trailblazer! But after picking them, you left Kafka and Silver Wolf. They didn't really mind it. They have been doing good without you, so it should be fine!

Meanwhile, the trailblazer is confused. First, they don't remember anything except their own name(or the name you gave them), then Kafka leaves and someone is watching over them. Oh how confusing and strange. But they caught early on that you're helping them. You're not an enemy.

During their "adventures" trailblazer starts thinking of you as a family. Kinda annoying since you control their body most the time (unless it's a cutscene) but you're cool nonetheless. They see you as a safespace.

Meanwhile March 7th and Dan Heng don't understand what is happening. Who is controlling them? Why after they met trailblazer? Why are you controlling them?

I think March would, just like the trailblazer, like you and find you annoying at the same time. Dan Heng would stay on guard (but also see you as safe space/nice person to hang with). Not as much on guard as when you first...met but still. It'll take him time to get off guard. The more time you spend with them, the more familiar they are with you, the more they like you.

Why annoyed, you may ask? Well, imagine you want to.. for example fight, but someone controls your movement and does it instead of you. Or goes the other way (aka exploring) instead of the path you've originally chosen.

They certainly would like when you make them stronger. No matter who is on your team, they'll like it (I mean, who wouldn't?)

But.. sometimes, even if they like you, they get tired of always being on the team. Thank you, yes, but they need to rest too. They mostly rest when you're offline, since..time kinda stops there. But when you're online? damnnn they walk and fight so much.. (I fr walk everywhere to find enemies to fight, so uhh, if you're like me, they would be tired and maybe annoyed at it)

I think some characters would even hate you. It doesn't apply to the main trio btw, they'll always like you. The reason some may hate you is that they have so much stuff to do, yet you choose them to walk around and fight all day. They're even supposed to be here! (For example, using Herta when fighting someone in Belobog)

If they could, they would scold you. But sadly game doesn't allow that.

It only appears in normal, self aware circumstances. Aka a normal self aware. Some like you, some hate you. You just kinda exist. (That one strange friend/sibling, y'know?)

But what if they would see you as a God? Something divine? Like in SAGAU?

Well, you're doomed, what can I say?

Everyone would want to be in your team. Oh, poor Gacha system.

They would hate it tbh. While in just self aware some would avoid you on purpose (aka busy characters), here? Where everyone sees you as a divine being? Oh dear..

Imagine several people trying to come through a single door, all at the same time? Yeahhh that's what happens. The standard and limited banner would literally fist fight while trying to get "home" to you. So don't be surprised if nobody comes home, at all.

But some may cooperate, and you may get more 5☆ or 4☆! Basically characters you wanted.

Those on your team would be proud! Mostly if the main trio are still there. Some would be envious of trailblazer. You're always with them, even if they're not on your team.(how could you?!)

Kafka and Silverwofl would be devastated. I'm pretty sure Silverwolf could possibly destroy the gacha system and come home. Only her (and maybe Kafka)

People in Belobog would hate the lore and everything game makes them do what they do. They're so happy they met you! You're here to save them! They don't want to fight you, so please don't be mad at them.

Honestly, if you were to get isekai'ed into hsr, I would recommend to the normal au.

The ones who hate you would just tell you off and never interact again, while your family/friends would hang out with you. Plus you could help a lot in Astral Express!

Maybe get Himeko and Mr.Yang some tea? Or help Pom Pom with whatever he needs?

If you get into the Worshipping Lunatics au..? I feel sorry for you.. You would never rest-

Whether you choose to stay at Astrak Express, or Herta's *I forgot the name* or whatever, they are all ready to wage war against each other. And if you decided to stay somewhere, that means you clearly favor them and their place more! Those who were chosen are happy/smug. While other try to improve their place/copy the place you've chosen to make you reconsider and stay with them.

The amount of gifts.. try to not drown okay?

They might even all agree to keep you in one place. Lock you in there and hope you won't be mad at them.

That's all for now

(Gotta work on reqs now or in the morning, they're still open btw)

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bug-is-snug · 3 months

Text

starved pt. 2

part one

plot: you're a zombie <3 CW: depictions of violence, depictions of obsession, gore, self-cannibalism (stay safe cutiepies!), blood, gore, eventual smut (That means Minors DO NOT INTERACT), self harm (I think? I'm not sure but I'm adding it to be safe!), military inaccuracies, dead dove do not eat kinds of stuff

A/N: let me know if I missed anything with the content warnings! Also please forgive me for the terrible accents, I am but a small humble person with the brain made of v8 juice- Also some of this was written on mobile so forgive me if there are any grammar errors ^^; banner by: @frostthecupcake (deactivated) and found by using "Find A Banner"

You felt your face grow warm as your mind went back to the sight of your Captain's wrist. Well- mainly his veins...God, he had lovely veins... You imagined grabbing his arm and sinking your teeth in, tearing away at his skin and tendons with gnashing teeth...while you daydreamt you couldn't help but wonder; How sweet would his flesh taste? Shaking your head profusely, you let out a huff and continued to head off towards the barracks while ignoring the emptiness in your stomach. God, you could feel the blood running down your throat, warming you far better than any hard alcohol... "Stop it." You hissed quietly to yourself, as if you had any control over the thoughts that ran rampant in your mind, "Don't think at all, just shut up!"

Taking a moment, you lean up against the wall and desperately try to gather your thoughts. Your stomach growled almost angrily, making you let out a frustrated groan. "Hungry?" A familiar voice cooed playfully, their Scottish accent giving away their identity instantly. You look up to see Soap, your heart instantly beginning to race. Your eyes scanned over his body while your nose took in his scent, which allowed you to recognize that he had just gotten back from the shooting range, the smell of his musk and the gunpowder making your head swim. "Uh-" Christ, you sounded dumb, "Maybe? I dunno, I kinda skipped lunch today...though I do hear that your body can make you hungry when you're exhausted so- uh- maybe it's that?" ...WHAT? Where did that even come from?! What kind of stupid excuse is that?! Soap raised a brow, staring at you for a moment and giving away that he was also just as bewildered as you were over the shit you just said. "...I am going over here now." You quickly walked around him, attempting to make it to your room. "Hold on now, that dinnae make a lick o' sense. What's goin' on wi' ye?" A strong, calloused hand grasped at your forearm making your heart jump to your throat, "Ye alright, lovie?" You shuddered slightly, digging your nails into your palms as thoughts of tearing your precious teammate’s ribs apart and sinking your teeth into his heart while it still beats made you feel dizzy and your stomach ache. What would it taste like? Sweet? Savory? How much would you be able to devour before someone else stumbles upon the sight? You quickly interrupted your own thoughts as you blurted out, "I think I'm sick is all." Soap hummed and reached over, pressing his hand against your forehead. "Ye dinnae feel sick, ye feel cold to be honest, lovie..." He muttered. "Sarge-" You were cut off by his hands feeling up the scruff of your neck and under your jaw. "Sorry, mate. My mum used to do this to check if me or my siblings were sick..." His voice was low, as if he trying not to spook an injured animal. "Sarge, I'm fine, honest-!" You tried to reason with him. You knew he was telling you the truth, but you also knew how he was. To clarify, while the relationship between you and Soap was rather handsy it was usually a welcome action and when it wasn't, you would tell him and he would back off. The touches the two of you would share sometimes bordered on inappropriate, but it often didn't go much further than that. It was a very intimate relationship, one that could be missed if someone didn't have a trained eye. However, it wasn't quite romantic...just intimate and sometimes intense-

Looking into his eyes, you could tell that while he was indeed just checking up on you, there was a small sense of enjoyment at the fact you were letting him casually paw at your sensitive skin. You let out a soft hiss in pain when he pressed down on a particularly tender spot, "Johnny, too hard..." "Sorry, lovie..." Soap said quietly, letting go after a moment. "It's okay..." You assured him, "What's the prognosis, Doctor MacTavish?" He chuckled at your teasing and shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest, "Yer feelin' a bit stiff is all. Probably from yer god-awful posture." "Then I am going to do what I was planning to do and go take a nap. I should probably tell Gaz...I was gonna eat lunch with him today..." You said, disappointment heavy in your voice. "I can tell 'im fer you, lovie. Dinnae ye worry yer little head ‘bout it." Soap smiled, reaching over and giving you an affectionate pat on the shoulder. A sigh left your lips as you gave him a relieved smile, "You'd really do that for me? Thank you, Johnny..." He smiled back, his hand gently squeezing your shoulder. "Yer welcome..." You playfully nudged his arm with your elbow which made him chuckle and give you a wink before he walked around you, leaving you on your own as you finally made it to your room. You remembered the last time you retreated to your room when feeling unwell while you stared at your bed, closing your door behind you. It was a few days after the attack... Your body felt like it was on fire, especially where that damn doctor had bitten you. Your heart raced and your arm felt like your veins had poison coursing through them. You had refused to let anyone know, nor let anyone take care of you going as far as to barricade the door. Stupid? Yes, but what were you supposed to do? Let the teammates whom you trust your life with every single day know you're unwell? Ask them for help because they're your found family and you would drop everything to take care of them if they were in this state because you love and cherish them as people? Cringe- You groaned in pain, curling up in your little bed while digging your nails into the fabric, tearing them effortlessly much to your surprise. "What the fuck?" You huffed out, grimacing as you stare at the ruined sheets, "I just bought those..." Was that what you should have been worried about? Absolutely not, but you have to cope somehow. The pain was unbearable, but the worst of it was the fever and the fever dreams that came along with them. Well, you called them fever dreams; they actually appeared in your mind when you were awake. And most of them were really just...urges... Visions of ripping people apart filled your mind. It felt so real...you could feel your fingers digging into some faceless person's skin, tearing apart their flesh and ripping apart their ribs while they screamed and thrashed. The more skeptical part of your mind shoved it off as just an edgy little thought that you had as a courtesy of watching so many horror movies with Gaz, just a silly little spout of aggression. No, it was the thought of eating the person that got you to worry. It was the thought of burying your face into their warm body and sinking your teeth into their heart that scared you. The worst part of it was the fact that your stomach growled every time you imagined chewing and swallowing, like a forbidden fruit... Blood spilling down your chin like you had just bit into an apple after days of neglecting your hunger became a feeling you craved desperately. "Please just be a really fucked up version of the flu..." You whispered, "I swear to everything that is good and holy if it's not-" You were interrupted by a sudden sharp pain in your stomach, making you cry out. Burying your face into your pillow, you let out a quiet sob while you clung to it. Somehow, you felt embarrassed about how much pain you felt. You've taken bullets for fuck's sake! You have broken bones, dislocated joints-! And a little stomachache is making you cry?!

"What the fuck...?" You muttered, wiping the sweat from your forehead. Upon seeing the literal puddle of it in your hand you cringed, “Mm…that’s nasty…”

Sitting up, you use the headboard of your bed to keep you steady while your head pounds and begs you to lay back down. You huff, leaning your head against your arm for a moment. This fucking sucks. There is no denying it!

Your nose is pressed against your flesh, and you catch a whiff of yourself…Oh my…

Your stomach beckons you, and in that moment, you don’t even care. How can you? You’re starving!

So…

Without a second thought…

You sink your teeth into your wrist with a sickening squelch, tearing through veins and muscle. And, God, if it didn’t taste lovely…

Back To Current Day…

You sit down on your bed, running your fingers over the stitching you had done over the once torn sheets. It wasn’t perfect, but it was good enough!

With a sigh, you lean against the wall, staring at the ceiling as you reach over and gently touch your forearm, your fingertips sliding across the edge of the bandage. You didn’t really want to check if the wound was still there…but you didn’t want it to get infected either.

Your eyes glance down as you kicked off your shoes, scooting into your bed while your hand slowly peeled the bandaid off. You expected infection…a festering, pulsing and pus filled one…however, there was nothing. Your wrist was completely healed, like nothing happened-! How…?

You shake your head as hard as you can, as if it would shake the thoughts away. You ball the bandaid up and go to the trashcan, tossing it before going to your sink and rinsing your hands off. This isn’t so bad, right? It’s- er- not ideal, but it’s something! Maybe you should keep a journal of your changes- No. Too risky. If anyone found it…

Your eyes closed as you lean against the counter, inhaling through your nose while your leg bounce uncomfortably, “I can’t see a doctor…I really should but-! …What if I hurt someone…?”

You found yourself doing that a lot; whispering to yourself, fighting yourself…etc…

But that’s neither here nor there, it’s time to eat.

You started to head to your mini fridge, kneeling down before it and opening it up to take a package of raw meat out. You tear it open with your finger, feeling yourself begin to shake…

Shoveling raw meat into your mouth was not a good feeling. Did it scratch that lizard part of your brain? Yes. But social norms taught you to be disgusted with such bad manners-! However…as you sunk your teeth into the raw chicken breast, you ripped and tore away at it, feeling yourself grow more and more ravenous as it you continued. It tasted pretty okay for the most part, which is what surprised you the most.

Tasted like chicken, obviously, but the raw flavor added to it somehow? It was so hard to describe! But…then those thoughts came…

You were imaging the meat belonging to Soap, your beloved teammate. You felt so dirty and perverted…

‘This isn’t normal,’ You reminded yourself, ‘This is NOT. NORMAL!’

You didn’t even realize someone else had entered your room until they cleared their throat, making you snap your attention to whomever it was.

Oh shit.

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