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neteyamsilly · 1 year

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i will soften every edge, hold the world to its best | 3

summary ;; Sullys stick together. You learn the hard way what happens when you don't. PART 2 | PART 4 pairings ;; dad!jake sully x reader, mom!neytiri x reader, sully family x reader genre ;; pure angst and family feels notes / explanations ;; descriptions of blood and violence incoming, beware! shout out to the ppl who predicted the stuff in this chapter LMAO so um... i couldnt tag everybody who asked when i said i would... there's apparently a limit to how many people you can tag. please forgive me 😭 im not taking any tagging requests anymore since i cant do it. so sorry about that,,,, seriously also, thank you so much for 1160 followers! i still cant fucking believe it... daddy issues solidarity 🤙🏻🤙🏻

“Hi there Corporal, you hear me? Yeah, I know you do. As much as I’m charmed by the fatherly love I could give you a big old sloppy wet kiss, we have unfinished business.”

Rain covered the rustling of clothes and the click-clacks of readjusted weapons as concentrated silence hung in the air, thick and heavy like the morning mist swallowing up the forest.

No answer.

What face could your parents be making right now? Heartbeat in your ears, you tried to hide your shame by looking down, but a jerk on your queue set you straight. the avatar holding you digging his gun sharper in your neck.

“What, cat got your tongue all of a sudden?” The leader’s stare found yours. “Let me give you a quick remedy.”

They’d linked your device into another for the sound to be relayed outside and the voice detection range could be wider, in other words, they wanted your father to hear what was happening to you. Your braid was yanked as if the one pulling it wanted to snap it right off your skull, no amount of training could stop the scream torn out of you — all the show just for him.

The line was deadly still, save for some rustling, crackling static that you could have easily mistaken for hissing.

A ghost of a smile shadowed the man’s face, he extended his rifle to tip your chin up. “Guess we’re gonna have to be louder than that to wake daddy up sweetheart.”

“Stop!” Father yelled, the unexpected timing of it made you jump. That earned him a group chuckle from the avatars around you. “Stop.”

He talked. He didn’t leave you to fend for yourself in this. Thank Eywa!

“That was fast,” the captor behind you said.

“Thought you’d have forgotten English by now, playing native.”

“...Quaritch?”

Quaritch. That awful, awful man from the stories your mother killed? Spider’s father? But… But he was dead. How could sky people know how to cheat death?

“In the flesh.”

Father’s voice wavered, you’d think he was scared if you didn’t know any better. “That’s impossible.”

“Back from the grave just for you, Jake.”

“Then I’ll just have to put you right back where you belong.”

The squad of avatars openly laughed at that, boisterous, confident, arrogant.

This was Toruk Makto they were openly mocking. None of them would last for one minute in front of him and yet—

“Quite the teary lovers reunion we’re havin’ here, but you got busy while I was gone, huh?” He looked down at you again, yellow eyes filled with mirth. “I have this tiny bird here we plucked right out of the air. Imagine my surprise to learn she’s yours. Is this the only one, or you got yourself a litter now?”

Silence again.

“What do you want?”

“Straight to the point as always.” The smug smile momentarily twitched into an unamused, withheld resentment. This man was nearing the end of his capacity to keep taunting. “I don’t think I’ll tell yet. You know I love to be a tease.”

Your ears rotated upwards in treacherous hope at your father's next words. “If you touch one hair on my daughter’s head I swear to god—”

“You exchanged your god for this shithole, Jake. Let’s not kid ourselves now.” Any hint of playing around was gone, now, eyes fixated on something on the ground ahead. “Your daughter will be my guest for a while. Think of it as summer vacation. Don’t worry, unlike the Na’vi, we’re very hospitable.” His thumb brushed over a button. “Until next time.”

“Fucking bastard—”

With one beep, the call was over. Quaritch was touching the band around his neck this time. “Iron Sky, Blue on Actual. We are standing by for extract, over.”

You began to tussle against the avatar behind your back. “No! No! Let me go!”

“Be advised. We're bringing in a high value prisoner.”

“Dad’s really gonna flay her alive this time, I can’t wait.” Lo’ak, positioned just behind the flap of the tent to not be seen from the outside as he peeked with one eyeball just in case, was watching his parents vehemently yell at each other in whispers that started out loud, but got hushed probably to not reach him and his siblings. Aggressive limb gestures were flying in the air, and at one point, his mom had tried to run off somewhere and was forcefully stopped.

Dad was currently pacing around like a wild animal with one hand permanently stuck rubbing his face, and mom turned away from him, holding her forehead. “They’re really going at it, huh?

Kiri was not amused with his insistence to breach their privacy. “What’s so interesting about watching this kind of thing?”

“Catharsis?” He remarked in English, feeling sophisticated. “You remember Spider talking about it? Purification and emotional cleansing through relief that you’re not going through the horrible tragedy, the character on stage is.”

“You’re normally so dumb.” Lo’ak bore his fangs at her matter-of-fact tone of voice. “Your brain only comes back on when it’s about chaos.”

“I’m petty, and what about it?” A tilt of his head to dare Kiri to ask for her point, then his attention was thwarted by an incomprehensible cry from his mother. She was pushing dad from his arms, furious like Lo’ak had never seen before as the upset man tried to hold her more. “Look at mom and dad breathing fire at each other! You think they’re discussing how to punish her?”

“Stop spying already skxawng, mom will be angry if she sees you. We’re supposed to be in bed.”

“Shut up, I’m trying to listen here!” His ears were tilting at every angle to make out any words that reached to him as nothing but a cluster of broken sounds. “Why did they have to go far?”

“Because they wanted to be away from peeping toms like you?”

“And you’re still here too, so?” Lo’ak gave his sister a meaningful look. “I know you wanna see too.”

“Ugh!” Kiri shoved out her tongue at him, eyes dead. “And it’s not funny, by the way! They are fighting. Stop being happy about it.”

He knew they were fighting about his older sister, and that she’d get all the heat and fallout from it the moment she was back. Lo’ak’s head was full of what he could get out of it, or what to ask her for in return for helping her out in her detention. So satisfying to be the sibling who wasn’t in trouble. He should do it more, actually. “It is funny when it’s not about me.”

“You’re sick for taking joy in another’s suffering.”

“Oh, I’m doomed, then.” Kiri took whatever fat was on his thin arm between her thumb and forefinger, and twisted. Lo’ak had to blink away the tears that rushed to his eyes, snatching his limb away from the displeased girl and pushing her away in return — he was annoyed at how much that hurt, why was that so damaging for no reason? “Yeouch! What the hell?”

“Will it kill you to practice mindfulness once in a while?”

He raised his voice’s pitch to mock the wobbly, ear-scratching whine of yours, and exaggerated his body movements to match, too. “I hate you!”

“Gross.” She tried to shove him, he caught her hands in the air, pushing her back and getting the spiteful annoyance of his sister as a result. “Dad was actually hurt by that.” Lo’ak’s eyes could roll down the hills by themselves the way that sounded, but Kiri, as always, was bothered so inexplicably. “I don’t like this. I have a bad feeling.”

That bad feeling was the herald of dad’s upcoming cranky ill-temper and what would follow after you inevitably had to come crawling back home with tail between your legs, Neteyam dragging you from the scruff of your neck. Lo’ak was refusing to sleep so he could enjoy the fight.

“Me personally, am over the moon, ikran duty is so gonna be off my hands. For months.” He halted at the idea that just went off in his head, tail swishing with the hype. “I wanna tell Spider. I’ll go get him.”

“Absolutely not. You sneak off now and they’ll laser-focus all the anger on you!” Kiri was pointing a warning hand at him, but slowly lowered it, one corner of her mouth twitching up. She was holding back amusement. “Hey, you know what? Nevermind, you can go. I want you to go. I have to see this.”

“Ha-ha.” Lo’ak’s tail stuttered, losing enthusiasm. “Attempted murder, much?”

“Guys, what’s going on…”

Upon the unexpected voice that wobbled its way into their conversation, they both looked down to see Tuk gripping her weaved blanket with one hand and dragging it on the floor as she made her way to them, the other rubbing her eyes one by one so sleep dripping from them would fly away.

“See, you woke her up! What do we do now?”

“You woke her up by yelling, why is it my fault now?”

“I didn’t, you—”

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Did n—”

“Guys…” Tuk pulled on Kiri’s hand, and the foreign object she was clutching the whole time distracted Lo’ak. It must have dug into the older one’s skin that she carefully picked it up to inspect. The ear pieces they took off before they went to sleep. This one was Kiri’s. “Neteyam’s calling. You didn’t hear…”

Grinning, Lo’ak snatched it up and skipped backwards and put it in his own ear, ignoring Kiri’s hushed yells to give it back now and the groans about ruining it with his stinky, cheesy earwax. He had to keep bouncing around, the girl was chasing him around the tent. “Bro! Tell her she’s sooo dead. Dad’s literally keeping guard in front of the tent—”

“Lo’ak, quit it.” Neteyam’s tremulous answer was harsh. Lo’ak’s smile wavered as he dodged Kiri’s arm and jumped over discarded cups on the floor, knocking over wooden spoons. “I need you to tell me what’s happening over there.”

“Aw, baby’s so scared to come back she needs to make a game plan first?” He laughed, slapping Kiri’s hands away. “I’ll only tell if she gives back my karambit knife.”

His older brother sighed, a bit too exasperated.

“Yeah, I’m not letting that one go and I’m also making it your problem—”

“Lo’ak, she isn’t here.”

He stopped dead in his tracks. “What?”

“She isn’t here. I couldn’t find her.” Kiri bumped into him, unable to stop herself at the right time to hit the brakes due to how abruptly Lo’ak had stilled. They’d almost tumbled over. “Dad told me to wait until he contacts her and I’ve been waiting for minutes. Now tell me what’s going on over there.”

“Bro, you’re serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be serious, skxawng!”

He turned to Kiri in disgusted discomfort, who had damn-near glued her own ear to his to hear better. “Forget months, I’ll be free for years. Dad’s not gonna let her take one step off the camp anymore.”

The girl would stomp her foot if she was a couple years younger. “What’s this about?”

And Neteyam would shake Lo’ak from the neck for ignoring him this long while he was fussing. “Tell me already you—!”

“They’re having a fight bro.” He leaned better to peep outside the tent. “Yeah.”

“She came back? Why didn’t you tell me?”

It was uncommon for Neteyam to completely disregard the previous input he’d been given. Lo’ak didn’t understand this level of anxiety. “Are you having a brain fart? Would we be having this conversation if she was here? It’s mom and dad who are fighting.”

It wasn’t that serious — on the contrary, his sister was quite simple to understand. She didn’t want to be found and had changed her place of hiding. End of story. The golden boy’s worrywart nature was keeping him from reasoning.

“Don’t be a smartass.” Lo’ak practically felt Neteyam’s want to land a loud smack on his back. “Were they only able to reach her, then? Is that why they’re fighting?”

“You’re asking me?—”

The older boy began to grumble under his breath. “This is why I called Kiri.”

Said girl’s ears perked up over picking her name from the static-surrounded line. Lo’ak snorted. “Ouch, bro.”

Kiri shook him from the elbow. “Me? What about me?”

“Great title for your autobiography.”

Kiri raised her arms to give him a beating and Lo’ak was already bolting away from anywhere near her vicinity. The siblings didn’t even take notice of the line with Neteyam going dark as they focused on their own play-scuffle for a while.

Until Lo’ak bumped into someone.

It wasn’t Tuk.

Shoulders pulled into himself, he turned around torturously freaked out to find dad standing there like a ghost, his tactical vest packed to the brim and gun hanging from his back the way they wore their bows.

The blue of his skin had faded into an ashier tone, amber eyes wide and bloodshot, the veins on the normally put together Olo’eyktan’s forehead were bulging, even a socially clueless person would pick up something was seriously wrong. He commanded cold authority of the battlefield simply by the way he stood, immediately triggering Lo’ak into soldier mode.

He took a few steps back, chin hanging low at the lightless, unblinking stare his father pushed down on him. “Sir.”

All the sleepiness that had Tuk unresponsive and nodding off through Lo’ak and Kiri’s push-and-pull was knocked out of her at the sight, she was now unnerved and frightened. “Dad?”

The man’s intensity was somehow eased by his youngest’s reaction, but he held back from taking her in his arms like he normally would to comfort her, didn’t even care to remark on how they were supposed to be sleeping — how they’d woken their little sister up, instead focusing on Lo’ak. “I want you all to listen well. Your mother and I are heading out for a minute and your grandmother will be with you soon — Neteyam is Oscar-Mike to come back here. Stay put and don’t go anywhere, understand?” His finger pointed accusingly at him. “Don’t cause trouble. Looking at you boy, what I’m saying here is Marine proof. I’m at the end of my wits here, don’t even think about slipping a tail out of this tent.”

The potent severity of whatever the hell was making him this agitated to the point of a voice so hoarse it was unrecognizable got the wheels in Lo’ak’s head whirring. “What’s happening, dad?”

“One child!” The thundering shout came down on him with the force of a falling mountain, making Lo’ak jump out of his skin. “I need one child of mine to listen to me without asking any questions today!” Dad’s voice broke when Tuk whined, he shut his eyes as if he was in physical pain, and flexed his jaw, shaking his head and pulling the girl in from her shoulders to soothe her. Still no direct hugging. “Jesus Christ.”

“I’m sorry sir,” Lo’ak said immediately, distraught by the over-the-top reaction, hands unknowingly curling into fists by his sides. Whenever that sky people word ‘Jesus’ slipped from dad not having any control between the border of his two languages, the boy knew it was demanding gravitas. “I heard you CFB.”

“Good.” He thinned his lips. “Kiri, please.”

Lo’ak frowned at dad basically asking for her to play her brother’s keeper in Neteyam’s absence in two simple words.

She nodded. “I know dad.”

He caught a glimpse of his mother running in the distance, her father’s bow in her hand.

Just what was happening? What had you done?

Eywa, it had to be sky people.

Dad saw the realization in his face. “Stay,” he emphasized, one final time before he was also gone with the wind.

Lo’ak wouldn’t have obeyed if it wasn’t for his grandmother arriving just in time, keeping them busy with a story about the arrival of a wounded ikran with no rider.

You realized the gunshot wound puncturing your upper abdomen was there the whole time when the avatars put first aid and later slapped a rectangular sky people bandage on it that helped clotting or whatever it was called, the pain simply not being there had played a big factor in it with the body running on pure adrenaline.

(Crouching close to you, Quaritch had bragged, “We aren’t so bad after all, huh, sweetheart? It’s called civilization. Your daddy ever taught you about that?”

Civilization, your ass. They needed you. There was nothing well-meaning about what they were doing.

And the nickname had ticked you off, sullying the good memories of father, your head slammed into his nose in full power after a hiss.

“Now my daddy taught me that!” you spat in English as other avatars had tackled you. The man claiming to be Quaritch was smiling as he wiped away the blood trickling down his nose.

What was the point in trying to patch you up if they were going to do this, then?)

You were now a part of an elaborate trap to lure your father in. Bait. The worst position to be in. This was the kind of trouble Lo’ak would get himself in. It was too late to go back now, the mess you’d gotten yourself into had made itself known.

Think, think! How could you get out of this?

Within the unsleeping forest’s nightly noises chirping all around you, a specific call in the air halted your train of thought.

It was mom.

Your parents were here. But how? How did they know where you were, exactly? Dread and expectation pooled in your heart, coexisting in a nauseating mix.

Father must be thinking that you already caused so much trouble, they couldn’t know you were also hurt, you’d never hear the end of it.

But there was no time to think, the pain you should have been feeling was ebbing its way into your body, and she was calling in the night to inform you to get ready.

All hell broke loose when the man who held you tight from your queue was shot right from the back of his head with an arrow, collapsing right on top of you.

You couldn’t get away in time to not be crushed by his dead body and promptly got squished between the mossy soil and him, his gun was hurting you, the wound on your stomach getting in the way of you using your core to push the body off.

How many minutes had passed with you struggling to get him off as a hurricane of bullets roared, you didn’t know (it hurt, pain was climbing towards the threshold) — mom was able to break free from the weight of a whole AMP suit, as you’d heard as a child, a Na’vi was naturally strong, but you couldn’t even crawl out. Panic was a rope tightening around your ribcage as your breathing picked up

All of a sudden, the weight was gone, and the only remaining thing from it was the big gun left from the avatar you found yourself hugging for dear life, eyes wide as saucers. Before you could see whoever had done that, you got hoisted up right back on your feet and tried to run, only to be held tighter and pulled behind the trunk of a tree.

“Hey, it’s me, it’s me!” Clumsy, overwrought hands were cupping your cheeks and — and oh, it was your father.

You didn’t know whether to be afraid or cry from happiness.

Once he was sure you registered it was him by staring intently in your eyes with that edge of the softness you’d missed so much, his hold shifted to your neck and around your shoulders, and he gave you a look-over, checking for any wounds. Too bad what he was searching for was behind the gun you were holding. “Are you hurt?” He shook you when you were too stunned to answer. “Are you hurt at all?”

“No,” you shook your head automatically, it was weak against the explosions of bullets raining down all around you, but father had picked it up regardless, only focusing on you for the moment.

In the darkness, nobody could see the blood running down your body, that bandage had come out at one point.

“On my mark, we’re gonna run, okay?” He nodded to you, tomahawk axe in hand coated in a dark substance, commanding your full attention. “Follow me. Ready? Ready?”

You weren’t ready at all, stomach feeling like it was being stabbed at every heartbeat, but you couldn’t tell him that.

Instead, you ran like hell, moored by father’s taut clutch on your forearm pulling you forward to match his incredible speed dodging roots, bushes and branches.

Things stopped moving only when you were enveloped in mom’s embrace, consciousness almost flying off from the relief that washed over you. Kisses were peppered along your hairline and forehead, her mumbling your name in gratitude blending with your panting. Tears burned bitter in your eyes, but you couldn’t cry, not when father was looking at you like that, chest rising and falling. You instantaneously remembered why you were holding that gun at the intensity he was radiating, tail escaping between your legs and letting mom hold you.

At least this way he wasn’t able to objurgate you.

Over her shoulder, you saw three ikrans instead of two. Heart soaring, you were skipping towards him in pure astonishment in a heartbeat. “Hey buddy!”

His head lowered down towards you in bird-like movements. In this angle, it looked like he was giving you a razor sharp-toothed big grin.

“He brought us here,” your mother said. The hand you were going to pet the ikran with stopped midway at her dejected tone. “You have passed Iknimaya, I take it. On your own.”

You didn’t know what to say, feeling immense guilt at having made her this disappointed over it. If this was any normal situation, any normal fight at all, you would have shot back with, ‘Well father told me to do it.’

But you were tired.

Your pain threshold was being threatened, and you needed to get to your grandmother before any of your parents saw the situation you were in and this escalated into the worst fight you were going to get into in your entire life.

Father’s only response was a dead cold, “C’mon, we gotta get outta here.”

He didn’t talk to you after that. Not one word.

Squatting on an ikran’s back on a flight with an abdominal gunshot wound you were trying to hide was not an option unless you wanted to pass out midair and was looking for a free dive, so you were all but hugging the poor thing’s neck like a monkey, trusting him to follow your parents while you concentrated on mentally fighting to level out the pain.

Nonsensical as it was to believe the gun stuck between your ikran’s neck and your stomach was acting as a tampon to lessen the bleeding, you were concerned with how dumb it must have looked to father and mom, how incompetent they must think of you that their daughter didn’t even know how to ride right.

Got an ikran for nothing.

Would they be less proud of you seeing how funny it appeared, nevermind that it was to contain your pain all the while not trying to faint?

But no words were exchanged about it.

Father clamping up right after he’d made sure you weren’t hurt (yikes) had resulted in this awkward trip succumbing in total silence. They had sandwiched you between them, only necessary space for the ikrans to beat their wings freely left, so close that you could discern the scariest look on father yet, deepening the lines of age in his face while simultaneously expressing his barely contained desire to kill someone.

A ticking time bomb.

Forget speaking at all, but not only did he never address you until now, he didn’t even look in your direction for once. You knew because staring at him for five minutes straight for him to just acknowledge your existence had proven to be unfruitful.

And the tears involuntarily streamed down your cheeks with how utterly worthless and alone that made you feel, trapped in this agony you couldn’t help but hide because he’d think you didn’t deserve to complain after bringing it upon yourself. You would rather bite your tongue and bear the pain than stay dreading his reaction.

Yeah, no, he couldn’t know.

Mom was looking over at you every one minute to make sure you were okay after her ears picked up on your sniffles, arrows of worry shot from her side sinking down your skin every single time, and you hated to make her this way.

Your ikran kept comforting you through tsaheylu until you landed.

Father had promptly jumped down, agile and making haste away somewhere, passing you by and giving the cold shoulder. You all but slid off your own ikran, managing to make the gun stay where it should be, as you couldn’t help but weakly call out to him for one drop of consolation. “Father…”

He didn’t stop for you, quickening his steps, but his ears twitched, the tail beating the air ferociously halting and lowering before it returned to the previous motions, and those were the only indications that he’d heard it Lima Charlie.

The man just didn’t want to talk to you.

And you had to make yourself believe it wasn’t the emotional devastation that had you falling down, but the wound sucking out all your energy now that you had gotten to safety.

“Ma’ite?” Mom rushed to you. “Ma’ite, what’s wrong? What is it?”

“I’m okay, mom, it’s okay.” You were sitting on the floor, cross-legged. Thank goodness you still had the unbreakable willpower (and not the fear of Eywa put into you by father) to hold your shit together. “I’m okay. Just tired. My knees buckled. Weak, you know?” You swallowed, smiling. “I’m just… Just resting.”

Her gaze full of concern studied you, zeroing in on the gun you clung on for dear life against your stomach. Her hands lovingly brushed your hair, gripped your shoulders and elbows even though you were disgustingly clammy all over. It was grounding, anchoring within the ocean of pain washing over you in waves.

“Oh, why are you sweating so much? You’re freezing.” You clutched the gun harder in a panic when she grasped it, most likely to put it away. It was the wrong reaction to have, but you weren’t exactly in the position to function healthily.

Mom, as any other person would, got suspicious from it, her eyes flying up to your owlish ones — blanked out like a frightened animal. “You’re fine now,” she whispered, thankfully attributing it to how disturbed you must be, still not out of survival mode. “You are safe, my daughter. Mom is here.” She cupped your cheek, but every touch to your body hurt now, even when it was away from the gaping wound, still gushing blood, trickling down your hips and getting you scared that it’d be discovered once you stood up. “I’m here.” She searched your soul to know just why you were grimacing at her attempts of comforting. “I will take this now, you do not need it anymore.”

You snapped out of the gradually darkening gray haze mom’s lulling was laying you down gingerly into. “No, please don’t,” your breathing hitched. She was going to see. She couldn’t see. You had to avoid this somehow, as long as you could. Grandmother’s tent. You would make it, you had to. “I’ll… I’ll just sit here for a while, okay? I need to just… take a small break, and then I’ll… Can you go back? I’ll follow later. Father is angry, I don’t—”

“Nonsense.” Incredulous and enraged suddenly about something you couldn’t put a finger on, and before you could stop her, she tried to haul you up with her by gripping your upper arms — colors exploded behind your eyelids, getting you you to lose consciousness for two seconds, your vision flooding back in a starry kaleidoscope. When mom’s voice reached your ears, it was in staccato exclaims your ears were ringing too much to discern. She was shaking you.

You weren’t able to sit up straight anymore, leaning forward — mom had caught you, utterly confused and panicked at the same time. And then your head was lying on the crook of her elbow resting on her legs she’d tucked under herself. The moment you’d switched from sitting to straight up lying down was missing from your memories.

A baby being cradled. Yes, this is exactly what it was like. Gentle arms surrounded you amidst the pulsating sea of agony.

Your body was letting go, but your arms were vices around the gun, still holding that last line. Don’t let go. Don’t let go. They can’t know. Father will be so mad if he learns. “‘m okay… ‘st restin’…”

When your eyes cleared enough for the surroundings to be only a bit blurry, your mom was looking at the hand she’d just tried to take away the gun with, caked with your blood that had stained it, out of it and perplexed like she didn’t want to believe it.

Her gut-wrenchingly stunned numbness sent the misery clawing its way inside into overdrive, pulling your consciousness down to the earth from the clouds it was ascending to. “Not mine,” you forced out, but it came out as begging. Everything was falling apart. The plan was so simple, why couldn’t you do anything right? “Not mine. Please. Mom, it’s okay.”

“No…” Mumbling, she started sharply swaying back and forth, and with one brutally vigorous attack, she ripped the gun away from your arms, and hurled it away — then it was over. Your sob wasn’t due to the motion hurting you, it was all entirely for the broken wail of your mother at seeing the bloodied mess, tears spilling from her eyes as she reached down to press down at the pouring liquid. “No! No! Oh Great Mother! Why did you hide this! Oh, my daughter!”

“No, mom, I’m fine, it’s nothing. Not my blood. Not my blood, okay?” You reached up weakly and wiped at her cheeks with trembling fingers, your heart got crushed worse than the pain could beat you down at her grief — lungs constricting. Where was all the air? “I’ll get up. I’ll go to grandmother, don’t cry. Just resting.”

Frantically looking around, she yelled, “Jake!—” but her voice didn’t quite come out, breathy as if she’d been punched in the ribcage seconds prior.

A heartbeat’s worth of nothingness, after which you were full-on freaking out. Only one thought: Father will be angry.

“No!” You shrieked, and blood swelled in one strong pump against mom’s fingers. She looked down at you in anguish, pupils blown wide, arm tightening around you as if you were a flailing bird. “Don’t tell him! Don’t tell father! He’ll really kill me for this—”

“No, no no no,” she shook her head, frenzied, tone cracked from beginning to end. “Do not say that. Don’t you ever say that—”

But you were struggling in her arms, wanting nothing but to crawl away into a hole, no reason registering whatsoever, only instinct. “He’ll be so angry,” you begged, pleading, pink spit bubbling at the corners of your mouth. The sound of gurgling accompanying the words you forced your whole body to form. “You can’t tell him — you can’t! He already hates me!”

The more you thrashed around and kicked your legs, the more you bled.

“Please, Great Mother!” The more mom lost her mind, hissing and howling hysterically, crazed, hugging you tighter and rocking. “Jake! Jake! Ma’Jake!” She put her temple against yours. “Not my daughter, please, Eywa…”

Why was she being like this? It wasn’t that serious! You were okay!

Delirium claimed you hot as she kept calling his name and her unbreakable hold on you kept you in a cage of a mother’s despair. In your feverish mind, a threat to your life was coming. Weakness spread like wildfire around your body and chipped away at the pain, slowly picking it apart to replace it with drowsiness. “Don’t call ‘im,” you continued to repeat, over and over again. “I’m just taking a break. Don’t call him over. He’s gonna be angry. He’ll hate me. He hates me. Please, mom.”

The sentences slurred together, shortened, wilted away pitifully, your voice died down, tongue deteriorating into only echoing, “He hates me.” A withered away, old flute.

Your ikran was bellowing in the distance and you looked. The torches on cave walls were illuminating him and finally revealing to you his beautiful color scheme.

And then your father was here, falling to his knees right beside you, his glistening wide eyes flying everywhere around your body — tracing all the blood, hands hovering above you as if he didn’t know where to start piecing a shattered vase back together.

It was over.

Fully expecting the chastising you were about to receive to shake the floating mountains so bad the enemy would be able to spot you, you began to apologize — pride be damned, this battle be lost, you’d failed anyway. “Please don’t be mad,” you shuddered, meek and unsteady, tunnel vision flickering at the edges only perceiving him. “It’s my fault—I’m sorry—please don’t be angry—”

“Stop talking,” he ordered, rough and harsh, eyebrows knitted tightly, and out of breath — probably because of how hard he was trying to hold the anger back. You knew. That had to be it. “Don’t speak.”

Ah of course. This was only natural when he had refused to utter a single word at you the whole way, denying you the temporary comfort of a simple glance.

Even the hand he pressed down so ruthlessly firm on your stomach it might as well be a boulder pinning you down was meant to be punishment, the whines your unbreathing lungs couldn’t stop turned into yowls — you hadn’t even noticed your hands were wrapped around father’s wrist in an effort to push him away, scratching him, but he only added his other hand on top of the other in return.

“Hang on, sweetheart, I got you, please hang on a little longer,” he pleaded, but you were already too far gone, Eywa was cruel to have plugged your ears to the endearment you’d been dying to hear from him for so long, making the last things you were aware father said to you the fact that he didn’t even want to hear you talking.

And you fulfilled his wish.

taglist: @ihonestlydontknowwhattonamethis@alohastitch0626 @jackiehollanderr @lucciera @qvrcll @iloveavatar @velvtcherie @ssc7514 @goldenmoonbeam @neteyamforlife @itsluludoll @jakesullys-bitch @blubrryy @sully-stick-together @arminsgfloll @alice121804 @noname2246 @justthingzsblog @eywamygoddess @m-1234 @ellabellabus07 @hellok1ttycake @dakotali @bluefire12348 @abbersreads @yellooaaa @aimsro @octavias-next-meat-bite @nikqdn @nao-cchi @spicycloudsalad @yeosxxx @heybiatchz @winxschester @elegantkidfansoul @eichenhouseproperty @kakimakiloh @dueiosy @liyahsocorro @dimplesxx @tigresslily @n8ivatar @strnqer @lillybbyy @jakesullyssluttt @r3dc4ndy @myheartfollower @gcldtom @bunnyrose01 @aceofheartzzz @ghoulbli @slasherfcker505 @ducks118 @megsthings @graykageyama @gwolf92

#dad!jake x daughter!reader #dad!jake sully x reader #dad!jake sully x daughter!reader #jake sully x reader #jake sully x daughter!reader #sully family x reader #mom!neytiri x reader #neteyam x sister!reader #neytiri x daughter!reader #lo'ak x sister!reader #kiri x sister!reader #irma: 📝#📖: light

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klaunee · 5 months

Text

Edit 2/12/2024: I wanted to add a disclaimer to my redesigns! I really appreciate all of the likes and comments that these have garnered, but I just want to add that these aren't intended to be "improvements" or "fixes" of the original designs in any way and were done as a character design exercise for my own entertainment. Looking back on them there's a lot I'd like to change about them and I'd never claim to be anything more than an amateur/hobbyist character designer messing around with these character concepts. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Redesign of most of the main cast of Hazbin Hotel + Lucifer for fun and all that. I enjoy seeing other people's interpretations of these characters and wanted to try my hand at it. Elaboration below the cut.

(warning for some potential spoilers for Season 1 below)

Charlie

As you can see, the gist of my redesigns is exaggerating the qualities of whatever the character is supposed to be. In this case, I thought Charlie lacked qualities that identified her as a demon, and so I gave her permanent horns and a more goat-like appearance. I also gave her angel wings for a unique look and to identify her as Lucifer's daughter. Realistically these could be bat wings instead, since Lucifer was historically depicted as having said wings, but I thought the angel wings combined with demonic features would give her a unique appearance. Her outfit is inspired by bellhops and magicians. I wanted her to be based on a type of performer in the same vein as her parents, with Lucifer's supposed ringmaster theme and Lilith being a diva. This is also why I gave her red nose paint, because to me, her red cheeks and white face make her look clown-like. I gave her round shapes to represent her sweet personality while her overall body type is lanky in a somewhat awkward way, trying to depict her as a bit dorky. I made her hair a bit more prominent for a princess-y look.

Vaggie

Vaggie's moth qualities have been exaggerated here. I'm aware of the theories that she's actually not a moth demon but rather a fallen angel, but I wanted to disregard that because I really like bugs. She has four arms, black eyes, antennae, and her hair is actually a pair of functional wings. Her hair-wings have four "eye spots" on them that are actually functional eyes similar to Sir Pentious. Shape-wise I wanted to show her as a more combative, assertive character, with blocky arms and a shorter and wider physique compared to Charlie. I gave her a modern outfit with a fluffy jacket reminiscent of a moth's neck fluff.

Alastor

I gave Alastor a complete overhaul. My biggest gripe with his design is that he's not intimidating in the slightest and yet we're meant to interpret him as fearsome. Although I enjoy the idea of a character who is not physically intimidating while still being a powerful force, I wanted to depict Alastor as outwardly frightening while retaining the idea that he's underestimatable because... his entire body is shadow! Rather than having that Dr. Facilier expy (/j) shadow companion he has, I decided to make it so Alastor is actually the shadow himself. This grants him a plethora of abilities like a greater range of movement, intangibility, etc. I imagine he was disoriented when he first spawned in hell as nothing but a shadow, but slowly found that this could be exploited and became extremely powerful. His staff is based on a vintage style of microphone with the center modified to look like an inverted pentagram. No Voodoo iconography here. The skull itself does not move, rather the red light in his eye flickers in time with his voice. Outfit-wise, he's wearing a basic vintage suit with a boater hat to identify him as being from the 1920's. Of course, the most significant part of his design is his antlers, which are greatly underwhelming in his canon design (disregarding his "true form" which is still weak in my opinion). In addition to giving him a dramatic silhouette, these antlers can be manipulated by him as a pair of appendages similar to hands.

Angel Dust

I didn't change much about Angel Dust. I think he has a nice design. I just tried to make him a bit more spider-like, with pedipalps, extra eyes, and an abdomen. I tried to make the abdomen small so it's essentially like a cottontail. I modified his legs a bit like I did Vaggie's so they're bent in a way similar to bug legs. His suit has a bit more dimension to it as well. I initially wanted to make the stripes vertical for a true pinstripe suit, but the horizontal ones ultimately won out. The most notable part of his physique is his legs like it is in his canon version, but I tried to make all of his limbs longer as well.

Lucifer

This one was very self-indulgent. I wanted to make Lucifer more father-like in appearance to try and diversify the shapes of male characters in this show, similar to how I gave Alastor a stocky build. With a stouter appearance he is simultaneously less and more imposing depending on how he's depicted. I think it'd be nice if his wings were a permanent element of his design. I gave him a broken halo, which he obscures with his top hat. I modified his outfit while still retaining the ringmaster appearance, giving him a long, flowing cape for a dramatic look. He has a cane in the shape of a golden snake which can actually move freely if he wills it. I based his hair a bit on famous carnie P.T. Barnum, and I think he'd have a similar characterization as Barnum too, being an outwardly magnanimous and lovable leader while in reality wanting nothing more than to encourage hedonism, chaos and sin in his subjects. His pointy beard and moustache come from depictions of Mephistopheles. Like Charlie, I gave him red nose paint because like I said, they've got clown vibes. Charlie inherits her goat features from Lilith, who I did not draw (yet).

Thank you for reading!

I'm not 100% on these redesigns but I enjoyed the exercise. I may redo them eventually.

I'd also like to do more of these, especially Adam.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel redesign #hellaverse #alastor #charlie morningstar #charlie magne #vaggie #angel dust #hazbin hotel au

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thegnomelord · 4 months

Note

aaaaomg... the response to my ask (i was the shark person lad) is so good :DD it got my brain bouncing around in my skull like a bouncy ball cause i love sharks and the 141 monster au

imagine an oceanic whitetip shark merman (i did mention whitetips a few times in my past ask, they're one of my favorite sharks) being in tf141 with the boys. whitetips are known for being one of the more aggressive sharks and some of the strongest in the ocean. like dragons, whitetips are prideful and stubborn in nature. they also tend to be on the larger end of merfolk, having muscular and tanky bodies to support their natural aggression. whitetips tails especially are strong so they can swim fast enough to keep up with prey - so their legs are naturally stronger to keep up with the weight of their powerful shark tail.

whitetips tend to be picky with their mates - like most of the larger shark merfolk, i imagine they'd want someone who can match their strength, and well after sparring with any four of the boys they'd definitely realize that "oh damn. maybe he is suitable" then go through the strange process of trying to court whoever they sparred with. it would involve a lot of nibbling and following them around to really determine if he's right, along with a few lost teeth that soooomehow end up on the desk of who they're courting.

ahem also dragon price and mershark reader makes me think. just a small note

but yeah that's all :) thank you for making my brain turn into a bouncy ball over my obsession with sharks and monsterfucking LMAO

Oh oh oh what if sharkmer are polygamous? Like it's so rare to find another of their kin so any time they find someone and they're compatible they end up joining/creating a polycule where everyone's fucking everyone?

So like, pre-existing poly141 with a new member reader, and at first you don't think too highly of them. But them you start sparring with them, get your ass handed as often as you hand it out, and yeah. . . you're smitten.

Soap fucking loves your little habit of nibbling on him, you two winding up on the couch somewhere with you nibbling on his pecs while he does the some to your tail, Price having a good laugh when he finds you two purring while you do it.

Gaz just likes your bulk, the fact you're so much wider and bigger than him, dwarfing him in size. I hc harpies have this old instinct to rest/nest in like caves or something, so when you wrap your strong arms around you it just makes him feel so safe, especially if you then tuck his head into your neck and he can't see and it's like he's surrounded by heaven, calm and relaxed in the same way raptors are calm when they got that hood on their head.

Ghost likes the fact you're generally quiet, likes the fact you can keep up with him and even pin him down (as well as a wraith can be pinned down). Likes being forced to submit under you, both of you tumbling around on the ground in an attempt to defeat the other until your thick tail is sweeping him out from under his feet and you're nibbling on his neck.

Price takes the longest to come around with you, mostly because he's so possessive and protective of what's his. But he sees you take care of his hoard, take care of him, and the next time you return from a mission, still wet from the swimming you'd had to do, Price pulls you into his office, a deep rumble in his throat. "Did well back there." He says as he takes your hand and bites it, keeping eye contact with you so you know he knows what he's doing, and suddenly you're lunging at him with the intent to mate.

And also sharks have 2 dicks soooo👀

#cod mw2 #gnome correspondence #x reader #male reader #top male reader #captain john price #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley x reader #kyle gaz garrick x male reader #simon ghost riley x male reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #captain john price x male reader #captain john price x reader #john soap mctavish x male reader #john soap mctavish x reader

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struniolos · 5 months

Text

wish you were sober! pt. 1

“kinda hope you're followin' me out, but this is definitely not my crowd.”

chris sturniolo x fem! reader.

synopsis: when reader is overwhelmed at a party & finds herself in unlikely company. (no fame au.)

warnings: none!

“i’m just going to do another shot!” one of your friends yells in your ear, trying to overpower the music thudding in the background. two other join her, linked arms, as they make their way to the kitchen. you wonder who’s house this even is, as you hadn’t been invited directly, only dragged along as a plus one.

you are now left with two of your friends, who both look at you with raised brows. the thick summer air only gets worse as you feel like you’re being closed in on.

“aren’t you going to do shots? you’ve barely drank anything tonight.” one asks, tilting her head.

“i really don’t feel great.” you confess, your face screwing up in bitterness. your stomach ached, as well as what felt like your brain thrashing around in your skull, clawing at the inside.

“maybe try making yourself vomit? sometimes that helps.” the other suggests, trying her best to be accomodating in her drunken state, while clutching onto your arm for stability. it wasn’t a terrible idea, as you did feel like you were going to throw your guts up at any given moment. but also, it was a good excuse to disappear into the bathroom for a few minuets undisturbed.

“i might try that, thanks.” you force a smile, before quickly slithering out of their grip, and making a bee-line for the stairs which in that moment seemed like the stairs leading to heaven. peace and quiet.

you jog up the stairs, while trying to hold down your skirt so you don’t unintentionally flash your ex-classmates. the hot air seemed to be worse upstairs, and you knew it all too well from living in a two storey home your entire life. heat rises. why on earth did your foggy brain think it would be cooler up here?

you manage to find the bathroom, sighing in relief when you found it empty. you closed the door hurriedly behind you, and make your way to the sink. you run the cold water under your hands, splashing it on your flushed face. your mascara had started to smudge under your eyes from the heat, and your lipgloss had completely melted off. real classy. as you begin to wipe your fingers under your eyes, a knock on the door startles you.

“yeah?” you call, not hiding your frustration.

“can i come in?” the voice asks.

you sigh, throwing your head back. so much for peace and quiet. you throw open the door, shocked at who you find behind it. chris sturniolo. you knew him and his brothers didn’t go to parties, not even in high school. you wonder who or what dragged them to this one. he was a year older than you, but you were well aware of who he was. the star player on the lacrosse team.

“you mind if i chill in here for a bit?” he asks nonchalantly.

you’re now confronted with the option of being a douchebag and saying no, or saying yes and then trying to weasel your way out. you scan his face, the bags under his eyes, the muss of his hair from the heat. he looked exhausted, you imagine that’s how you looked, too.

“yeah, sure.” you shrug, opening the door wider for him to come in.

he immediately makes himself at home, hoisting himself to sit up on the bench beside the sink. you take in what he’s wearing, a black singlet and cargo shorts with ugg boots. definitely a choice.

“did i walk in on something or…like you weren’t crying or anything?” he asks, widening his eyes at you and freezing in place.

“oh! no, no not at all.” you smile awkwardly, shuffling on your feet.

“right, you just uh, look…” he trails off, waving his finger at you.

“terrible?” you answer with a defeated laugh.

he laughs. “yeah.”

you find yourself smiling a little, too. “i feel terrible.”

“me fucking too.” he sighs, leaning his head back onto the mirror and kicking his uggs off. you envied his confidence.

“so, what brings you to the bathroom chris sturniolo?” you ask as you put the toilet seat down to give yourself a surface to sit on.

he gives you a funny look, pouting his lip and raising an eyebrow. “how do you know who i am?”

“you were only the star lacrosse player of southeast high!” you taunt, holding a hand to your heart and mocking the many fan girls he had at his beck and call.

he tsks and rolls his eyes, “nah, matt was always miles better than me.”

“he was.” you lie, a smirk creeping up on your lips.

chris chuckles, shaking his head. “anyway, to answer your question, i’m trying to escape my very drunk and gross friends, one of them vomited on my shoe, look!”

he points to his discarded ugg boot, which you now see has a splatter of dark liquid on it, and you find yourself feeling sick. “fuck that’s gross.”

“i know right! but i’ve had enough anyway, i want to go home but matt’s driving and he’s not ready to go yet, neither is nick. at least they’re having fun.”

“and you don’t drink?” you ask, crossing your legs criss cross applesauce style.

“nah, me and my brothers are sober. just don’t really see the point in drinking. got nothing against it, just not my thing.”

“you know, don’t take this the wrong way but, i honestly pictured you as the frat boy type.”

“ha, i’m far from it.” he laughs, “but that’s what all the lacrosse boys were like. it was painful having to put up with it.”

“i can imagine.” you tell him.

there’s a lick of silence, and the bathroom was beginning to get stuffy- despite the window being open and letting a small breath of air through every now and then. you see chris wipe the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, puffing out a breath. “it’s so fucking hot i think i’m going to die.”

you found yourself in a daze, looking at him now, really looking at him. he was cute as hell, how had you never noticed? the way his hair hung just over his forehead, how his arms were softly toned…

“hey, i never got your name. that was rude of me.” he says, turning to you.

you tell him, and he nods his head. “you look like that’s your name.”

“what?”

“you know how some people look like their names? i feel like i don’t look like a chris.” he elaborated, waving his hands around to emphasise his point.

“yeah, maybe a chad.” you chuckle.

“if i was a chad, i’d have already kissed you.” chris tells you, not looking at you, more like he was talking to himself. speaking into the abyss.

you widen your eyes, “what?”

chris kicks his feet back and forth, hitting the cabinets below. “nothing.”

there’s a pause, the only sound you could hear was your breathing, surrounding you, suffocating. you decide to be bold. i mean, what was there to loose, anyway? you couldn’t just sulk alone all night.

“i mean, i wouldnt say no.” you confess, avoiding eye contact, looking down at his vomit splayed ugg boot, discarded on the tiles. although, you could feel his eyes on you.

“to what?” he says, more confidently.

“if…” you begin, now looking up at him and loosing your train of thought.

“i kissed you?”

you freeze, blinking a few times to check you weren’t hallucinating and that your drink hadn’t been spiked. after a few breaths, you realised he wasn’t going anywhere, and that he was right there. only a few steps away. yet you couldn’t find your feet, we’re you supposed to make the first move?

before you could continue the battle in your brain, chris had slid back down to his feet, his hands bracing on the bench behind him, arms flexed. he tilted his head at you, almost like a puppy, waiting. he was waiting for you.

you stand up, and slowly, ever so slowly, make your way towards him. you bite your lip, your breath quickening and heart thumping in your chest like it would pounce onto him if it could. how had your night turned so quickly? weren’t you downstairs wishing you were anywhere else only 20 minuets ago?

chris reached his hand out to tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear, licking his lips. “you’re so pretty.”

you blush hard, looking down at your feet. “even with my smudged mascara?”

“yeah.” he chuckles, reaching for your hand to pull you closer to him.

you were now face to face, your eyes in line with his lips. you felt like your heart was about to fall out of your ass, with the way he was looking at you. not greedy, not like other boys did- if they did. it was sweet, like he was really looking at you, his mellow blue eyes scanning your face and landing on your lips.

he slid a hand behind your ear, leaning into you. you leaned in, too, unsure of what you were supposed to do. you had only ever kissed one boy, and it was in eighth grade as a dare during a game of spin the bottle. this time was different. it wasn’t a game, and nobody was watching.

chris kissed you gently, only testing the waters. it was only chaste, but you felt yourself ascend into another dimension. his lips were soft, and he was so warm. you feel something deep your belly, swirling around. your cheeks begin to flush a little more than they already were, your headache now a distant memory. he pulled away as soon as it happened, as if he had been snapped back into reality.

“sorry, i don’t um…usually do this. i feel like such a douche.”

“you’re far from a douche.” you reassure him, placing a hand on his forearm.

his hand that rested behind your ear was now playing with a coil of your hair. “i mean you were just so pretty, and i didn’t know how to-“

suddenly, you feel yourself swarmed with pride, beginning to smile. “chris! did you follow me up here?”

“um, no?” he says, as his eyes dart around the room comedically as a toothy grin adorns his face.

“you don’t seem so sure.” you tease.

he laughs, shrugging. “what can i say, it worked.”

you find yourself overcome with a feeling you didn’t recognise, something between overjoyed and astounded. you quickly press your lips into his, a little more assured this time. he kisses you back just as eagerly, pulling your waist close to his, breathing hot air into your lungs. you weren’t quite sure what to do with your hands, so you snaked your hand into his soft, full hair. he groaned into your mouth, and you felt your stomach do flips.

this was definitely not how you expected your night to go.

part two.

#my first fic be gentle pls #haven’t written in like a year so i’m a bit rusty #i laughed when i wrote the line ‘what can i say’#what can i sayyyyyy #sturniolo #chris sturniolo #sturniolo edit #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo oneshot #sturniolo triplets

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rosepinksky · 8 months

Text

Pay For My Time (pt. 1)

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female

In which Ghost's neighbour drags him in for dinner, and then ruins his life.

Warnings: blowjobs (but it's soft and sweet)

word count 3.1k

-----------------------------------------------------

Taking in packages was a neighbourly thing to do, I supposed. There was something sweet about the small kindness of looking after their property with no ulterior motive, never having met the person. I placed the small cardboard box next to my front door, going back to my sofa and my mug of tea.

I could just keep it. I’ve never met the man behind the name on that box, and he wouldn’t know my face. A small smile flickered across my lips as I considered the thought.

But when a firm knock resounded on my door that evening, I answered. And lord- maybe altruism is rewarded.

I raised a curious brow at the giant of a man standing on my fluffy pink doormat, the juxtaposition making me smirk. He was huge, undeniably, but I couldn’t take in the expanse of his body as I was transfixed to the mask on his face. Only a pair of dark, dark brown eyes visible beneath a skull across his cheekbones. That was the only sliver of skin exposed, even his hands hidden behind military style leather gloves.

“…Hello.” I stated simply, keeping my hand firmly on my door.

He just stared at me expectantly, his posture stiff and perfectly straight. “You have my package?” A thick Manchester accent asks gruffly from behind the mask and I feel myself grinning as I glean at least this tiny bit of information about him.

“If you’re…” I leaned back to read the name on the slip. “…John Smith from flat 2, then yes I do.” I keep my smile as I hand him the package. There’s a small grunt of thanks in return.

I leaned against the door as I take him in a little longer. “I’m Lucy.” I don’t bother offering a hand to shake, doubting that he would take it. “I take it you’re not John.” I let my grin crease the edges of my eyes up.

“…Ghost.” He replied after a second, seeming to consider his words carefully.

I hum curiously. “That suits you a little better.” I tilted my head, taking in his appearance. Despite the stern exterior and the absolute confidence in which he holds himself, I find myself frowning in concern at him. “You’re not home very often, are you?”

He stiffened a little at my questioning. “Why do you ask that?” His voice doesn’t betray any emotion.

“I would’ve noticed you before.” I paused again, “Do you want some dinner? I know your type, military men, and I can’t imagine you’ve had a proper home-cooked meal in a while.” I offered as casually as I could.

“No thank you, ma’am.” He replied at exactly the same time as his stomach rumbled. I smirked.

I opened the door wider in invitation. “I can’t force you.” I raised an eyebrow expectantly as I could just about make out the crease of his brow above his eyes.

“…okay.” He replied, the softest he had spoken in our short interaction. My smile grew wider, bouncing a little on the balls of my feet.

I pointed towards the couch of my modest flat, crossing the living room to the drinks cabinet. “Do you drink wine or whisky? Or…vodka?” I glanced at him over my shoulder, deliberately wording my question to try and avoid him declining a drink.

He chuckled at this. “Whisky. Thanks.” He sat carefully on the couch, his back still ram rod straight.

I poured him a healthy amount, placing it next to my own glass of wine on the coffee table. I made my way over to the kitchen. “You like pasta, right?” I called, trying to decide on an appropriate portion size for a hungry man twice my size, deciding to just pour the entire packet into the pan.

“I do indeed.” He replied, taking a sip of his drink.

I hummed along to the soft music I had left playing in the background. “So, Ghost. I was right about military? What branch?” I tried to make polite conversation with the mysterious stranger I had kidnapped into my living room as I cooked him dinner.

“I can’t really talk about it.” Was all he called back in response. I chuckled at this.

“So you’re a big deal?” I couldn’t see it, but Ghost rolled his eyes and smirked at me.

“What about you, Lucy?” He asked and I giggled as I fried up the chicken and vegetables I had chopped.

“I’m a dancer.” I waited for the inevitable silence that always followed that answer. “…and no, not the ballet slipper wearing kind, if that’s your next question.”

I could hear him clear his throat. “It was.”

I giggled as I returned to the living room, placing the heaped plate in front of him. He looked down at with an appreciative gaze. “You’re not eating?” He asked, another frown appearing on his face.

I shrugged. “Not hungry.” I leaned back into the couch, leaving half a foot or so between us. He lifted the balaclava over his mouth, resting it on the bridge of his nose. I watched him curiously as he ate, giggling again as I heard a tiny groan escape his lips at the first bite. “Yeah, I’m not bad.” I teased. I sipped away at my wine as I tried to get a read on him, his posture starting to relax just a little as the food and alcohol worked their magic.

As though he could feel my stare, he glanced up at me with a mouth full of food. He swallowed thickly, “What?” I held my gaze, sinking back further into the couch, my leg inching further towards his.

“Why do you wear that mask?” I asked softly, running my eyes over his sharp jawline and the thin scar that trailed along it.

He didn’t break eye contact as he took another swig of whisky. “Do you use another name when you dance?” He asked pointedly.

I chuckled, eyes lighting up. “Nice analogy.” I could see him smirk now, and admired the way his lip curled up.

I let him eat in silence for a little longer, just letting the soft, slow music fill the room as I silently thanked my past self for picking a vaguely seductive playlist. I stood as he finished the plate, leaning over perhaps a little too close to pick it up.

“You want more?” I murmured, my face close to his for a second before pulling away.

“N-no. That was…amazing. Thank you.”

I smiled genuinely. “I’m just glad you got to eat something other than the rations I imagine they have you eating when you’re working.” I got another grunt in response as I placed the dish in the sink, resuming my place on the couch next to him.

“So, Manchester, huh?” I asked over the rim of my glass.

He chuckled and nodded, casting his eyes over me. “London?”

I scrunched up my nose and shook my head. “Surrey.”

“Ah. Posh girl.” I rolled my eyes and shoved his arm playfully, noting just how muscular he was underneath the thick black sweater.

“Left and never looked back.” I replied softly.

“Strict family, rebelled and moved to the big city?” He asked, a hint of cheekiness in his tone.

I bit my lip, humming in response. “Something like that.”

I let the semi-comfortable silence hang over us, content watching the now exposed muscles in his jaw work as he swallowed.

He was the first to break the silence, to my pleasant surprise. “Why did you invite me in?”

I smiled up at him, warmth in my eyes. “…I know your type. Thought you could use the care.” I replied truthfully.

He frowned, his lips thinning. “Could have been a very stupid mistake.” He said in a slightly deeper voice, a hint of warning in his tone.

I didn’t let it faze me. “I’m not stupid. Like I said, I know your type. I’m pretty good at getting a read on people.”

“That come with the job?” He asked, the curiosity returning to his eyes.

“Mostly. You learn to play a lot of different roles.” I inched just a tiny bit closer to him. I saw his eyes flicker down as he noticed.

“And this? The concerned neighbour, is that a role?” He asked, his voice cautious as I saw him assessing me.

I let a hand rest against his shoulder softly. “It’s not a lie, if that’s what you mean.” I glanced down for a second as I considered. “I am many things, Ghost. A liar will never be one of them.”

He fixed me with an intense look, and I blushed a little under it. “What are you then, Lucy? You’re honest…what else? What do I need to know about you?”

God, that voice was just hypnotising. I swallowed another sip of my wine before I answered, the glass almost empty.

“Selfish. An attention seeker. A little bit crazy, if I’m to be perfectly candid.” I smiled softly.

He tilted his head, eyes running up and down my body as if in deep thought. “Crazy?”

I giggled, still blushing under his interrogation. “Bat-shit insane.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “You don’t seem it.”

“I have no reason to be, right now.” I whispered, leaning in towards his chest, my hand ghosting over his chest. “And you? What do you want me to know about you?”

He glanced down at my hand resting on the front of his sweater, that smirk tugging at his lips again. “I’m not used to pretty women looking after me.”

I giggled. “You think I’m pretty?” I glanced down at his lips that he’d left uncovered from his mask. “You want me to take care of you?”

I saw him swallow thickly. “…if you want.”

I smiled up at him, my eyes sparkling with excitement once more. I took one of his gloved hands in mine, pulling the leather off of his fingers slowly. I took his palm, massaging the flesh gently. “I do, Ghost. I would love to thank you for your service.”

I saw his face flush at this, and I tried to imagine the colour his cheeks would turn. “You…I’m only doing my duty.” He let me continue working at the muscles in his hand, rubbing the calloused flesh with my manicured hands, his eyes fixed on my face. “Can I…tell you something, Lucy?”

I smirked, flickering my gaze up to meet his. “Anything. You can’t imagine the things men tell strippers.” I saw his blush deepen at this.

“I’ve seen you before. Outside, having a cigarette.”

I raised a brow. “Oh?” I urged him to continue.

“I nearly had a stroke when you invited me in tonight.” He confessed.

I giggled fondly, placing his hand down gently in his lap. “Could you see through my ulterior motives?” I whispered.

He shook his head. “U-ulterior motives?” I grinned at the crack in his stern demeanour.

I set my now empty wine glass down, anchoring my hand on his shoulder as I swung my leg over, straddling his lap. “Yes, Ghost. Very selfish ulterior motives.”

He gulped, eyes, roaming down my body as I caressed his shoulders. “You…did mention that you were selfish.”

I nodded, leaning towards him until our lips were an inch apart. “Can I be selfish right now, Ghost?” I whispered.

He nodded, and I pressed my lips to his. He immediately stiffened beneath me but I massaged the muscles in his shoulders, pressing further into him. Soon enough, he relaxed slightly under my touch and I moaned appreciatively as his hands found my waist, his fingers curling into the soft flesh almost desperately.

I pulled away just slightly, staring at him through my lashes. “You okay, soldier?” I murmured, hands snaking up behind his neck. He nodded quickly.

“Can I do that again?” He breathed, grip tightening just above my hips.

I nodded and let him pull me against him, chest to chest as we moved in sync. He kissed with hunger, like he had been held underwater forever and I was his first breath of air. I curled my fingers around the fabric of his mask, the soft material tickling my nose.

I moved down his jaw, to his neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses as I slid my legs off of him. I leaned back slightly as I sank to my knees before him, staring up at him as I caught my breath.

He stared down at me with wide eyes, pupils blown so wide I could only see black. I ran my hands along his thighs, quirking a brow as I felt the sheer strength of his leg muscles underneath the rough texture of his trousers.

“Are you going to let me take care of you, sir?” I whispered, eyes searching his.

He nodded minutely, his breath shaky as his fingers clutched the cushions surrounding him. I smirked as I slowly undid his belt, sliding it out of the loops and placing it beside me. I pulled down the zipper just as slowly, letting him lift his hips so that I could pull his trousers down to his ankles.

I maintained eye contact as I pressed a soft kiss to the bare flesh of his thighs, smirking slightly as I felt him tense up from my touch. “Just relax, okay? I just want to make you feel good.” I reassured him gently.

When I heard him let out a shaky exhale, I pulled his boxers down, letting his dick spring up and hit his clothed stomach. I groaned in admiration at the sight of it, long and thick with a prominent vein running up the underside. I licked a stripe along the vein, continuing to stare up at him through my lashes as I did so.

“Fuck.” He breathed, his knuckles turning white against the cushions.

“Fuck indeed, sir. You were hiding this from me?” I giggled, wrapping my hand around him and widening my eyes slightly as I admired the way my fingers could just barely touch.

He blushed at my compliment, head leaning back just slightly as he relaxed into the sofa.

I ran my tongue up him again, wrapping my lips around the head as I moaned slightly at the taste of his precum. Another choked gasp escaped him as the sound vibrated around him, and his eyes snapped wide open as he stared down at me.

I kept my hand wrapped around the base of his cock as I took him deeper, barely halfway down his length before he hit the back of my throat. I moved slowly, letting my spit coat him as I squeezed my hand around him. I drew a low, strained moan out of him as I bobbed, his hands coming up to hold the back of my head. He made no move to guide me, simply tangling his fingers in my hair as I continued my leisurely pace.

I pushed further, my hand still covering the base of him but I heard another sound of desperation from him as I opened up my throat to let him further down. I brought my other hand up to cup his balls, and massaged the underside of him with my tongue.

“Fucking- fucking jesus Lucy, how are you doing that?” He breathed out, his hands on my head trembling. I didn’t reply as I kept my mouth on him, steadily increasing my rhythm as I felt his massive thighs tense up beside my head. “Just…just keep doing that. It feels incredible.” He whispered down at me, earning another hum of satisfaction as I moved faster at his encouragement.

I pressed my thighs together, needing some release as his moans send shockwaves directly to my pussy. When he saw this, he let out another groan, this one louder and more desperate than all the others.

“Shit, you’re just perfect, around you?” He whined as his fingers curled tighter against my scalp. “Such a good girl. Making me feel so good.”

I didn’t let up, obscene sounds filling the room as I sucked his cock like I wanted to worship it. I was worshipping it, the smell of his musk filling my nostrils and making me dizzier than the wine ever could.

When I felt his balls tighten up in my palm I took him deeper in my throat, running my tongue over his slit every time I brought my head up again. He let out a strangled cry, hips jutting forward in an attempt to chase his peak.

“Keep going, please god keep going, please let me cum down your fucking throat…” He whispered, a hint of desperation as he controlled the urge to pull me down by the hair. I did ask he asked, unrelenting as I begged for his release with my eyes.

As he looked down and saw the look in my eyes, the pure, unbridled hunger, his hips stilled and his thighs shook. He let out one final, desperate moan as I felt his release hit the back of my throat. I kept my mouth on him, swallowing down greedily as I pulled off him with long, languid strokes of my tongue.

His chest rose and fell heavily above me, his eyes lidded and his grip on my hair relaxed. He brought his hands to my cheeks, caressing my cheeks softly. “Holy shit.” He whispered, his eyes glued to my face.

I giggled. “I really enjoyed that, Ghost.” I breathed out, catching a droplet that escaped the corner of my mouth and licking the finger clean. He let out something between a sigh and a laugh, dropping his head back.

“Yeah. So did I.” He chuckled breathlessly.

I rose slowly to my feet, offering him back his belt. “You can…you can stay here tonight, if you like.” I offered softly. “But I won’t be offended if you don’t.”

He shot me a smile, his first real smile towards me, as he pulled his trousers back up. “…That sounds really nice.”

I offered him a hand. “I don’t think I’ll have anything that fits you.” I grinned.

“I think we’re about the same size.” His smile remained, something contagious about it that made me grin grow wider. I rolled my eyes at him.

“Come on. I’ve kept you up late, soldier.”

He took my hand, following me into the dimly lit bedroom. I could almost hear his smirk as he took in the girly decorations, beaded curtains and all.

“Nice bedroom.” He commented.

“Thank you. I’m really inspired by minimalist living.” I replied sarcastically. I watched out of the corner of my eye as he stripped off down to his boxers, admiring the sculpted muscles no doubt forged by years of military training. “Get in.” I pouted as I disappeared beneath the covers. He obeyed, pulling me into his chest by the waist. I sighed happily, adjusting myself to lie on his shoulder, tracing patterns idly on his collarbone.

“Thank you.” He whispered into my hair.

I smiled, not lifting my head to meet his eyes. “Just doing my job.”

#simon riley x reader #simon riley x ofc #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost riley smut #ghost smut

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heelanat · 9 months

Note

k so i was thinking about best friend!hao x u doing anatomy homework. imagine hin asking you for some random body part and if you got it right he WOULD KISS THAT PART hwheh

-💌

tiger stripes | zhang hao

pairing| bff!hao x chubbyfem!reader

cw| fluff!, slightly suggestive?, kissing body parts, mentions of abuse, common fem insecurities (you're beautiful and worthy, don't let anyone tell you any different ilysm <3)

wc| 1.1K words

prolouge| ever since the zhang family moved next door, little you and little hao have always been the best of friends, doing anything and everything together being only children and neighbors. your favorite game was pretend doctor where you would take turns being the patient. this ignited a spark, encouraging the both of you to take medical courses in the future. similar as you are, both of you grew up differently as he was raised in a loving an encouraging household, while you were being beaten up by your step father every day until you turned 16 when your mom finally caught him in the act and forced him to move out.

playlist| all of me by john legend "love your curves and all your edges, all your perfect imperfections"

ask from 💌 anon| "k so i was thinking about best friend! hao x u doing anatomy homework. imagine hin asking you for some random body part and if you got it right he WOULD KISS THAT PART hwheh"

a/n: the way this ask was so convenient because im a nursing major and were about to learn muscle anatomy next month? ilysm 💌 anon <3

one warm summer evening, as the sun dipped behind the horizon, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink, you and hao found yourselves alone sitting on the floor of your bedroom. it was finals week and you decided to procrastinate the whole two months now you're stressing over how you're gonna do in the exam. you knew how careless you were and you knew you should've had that mindset months ago to scare yourself but we can't turn back time now can we? in complete utter desperation with no other choice, you decided to phone a friend and he arrived at your doorstep in a jiffy — literally, he was just next door.

fifteen minutes after you sent your text, the doorbell rang making you rush down the stairs but your mom got to it first. she opened the door to hao, grinning from ear to ear while holding out a container. even in a casual shirt and baggy pants, he still looked very presentable. "good afternoon, mrs ln! my mother baked these cupcakes earlier, they're still warm!" he handed it to her using both hands. "oh why thank you, hao. come, come in, ill get you something to drink" your mom gestured for him to come in as she made her way to the kitchen. upon entering, he noticed you from the flight of stairs and smiled wider.

and that's how you ended up gossiping and laughing on the floor while eating the cupcakes and drinking milk. you caught a glimpse of your beside clock while trying to catch your breath. "holy fuck it's 8:57 already?!" your eyes widened while wiping away the crumbs and icing from your lips. "guess we spilt too much tea" hao chuckled. you took out the cue cards you had prepared and gave it to him. "okay, no more mucking around. let's get some work done!" you dust the crumbs from your hands together before sitting down in a more comfortable position.

twenty minutes have passed and you made zero progress so far. hao even tried repeating the same question after every other one but you still couldn't get it through your thick skull. "it's hopeless, im never gonna be a nurse. guess you'll have to find someone else to be your assistant" you bent your knees up to your chest as you buried your face in them. "hey, hey, don't say that" hao scooted closer and hugged you while rubbing your back soothingly. "i wouldn't dream of having anyone else helping out dr. zhang, hm?" he lifted your cheeks to make you face him, smiling in reassurance.

"i'll tell you what, for every muscle you get right, i'll kiss you right there" he brushed a strand of hair from your face behind your ear. you felt your face heat up as his words echoed through your ears. "w-what?" he snickered. "well, maybe you're having trouble learning about the body because you're not giving enough love to this one. so, i will be doing it instead" he took her hand and kissed it. at that moment, you came to the realization that you started to see hao differently over the years since puberty so this was all coming to a surprise — but you liked it.

renered speechless, you gave a small nod as a response as he scooted backwards and took out the questionnaires once again. "let's start with an easy one, where are the biceps located?" you flexed your arm and pointed at it with a smug face, making both of you laugh right after. "that's right, good job yn" hao leaned forward and gently pulled your arm towards him before kissing your bicep, fulfilling his promise from earlier. you pouted and puffed your cheeks as you tried reverting the blood rushing to your face. "cutie" hao cooed at you and pinched your cheek before sitting back up.

"next, can you tell me where's the tendinous inscription?" you thought for a few seconds before finally pointing at it, poking your belly in the process. "good job, princess" hao liked giving you those nicknames since neither of you were dating anyone, no one was going to be jealous about it. he lifted your tank top ever so slightly and planted a soft kiss just above the belly button. "that tickles" you giggled in response. you should have kept that to yourself, tho. after saying that, hao kept on kissing, even moving around, painting your belly with his lips. "hao, stop!" you whined in between your laughter while trying to push his head away. hao finally declared defeat and stood back up, drinking some milk to rehydrate his palette.

"now, where were we?" he hummed as he was looking for a harder question. "ah, yes, the sternohyoid!" he gave a cheeky grin. you shifted your gaze to the side, trying your hardest to remember what it could be. giving up, you took the chances and pointed on your forehead. "hmm, are you sure?" hao asked in a teasing manner however he has been using thag to play mind games on you and thought you weren't gonna fall to his tricks again. "positive" you smirked to yourself, almost tasting the sweet victory. "aww, you're wrong, sorry" hao pouted while crossing his arms to form an x for incorrect. "oh, dang! i actually forgot that one, where is it again?" you innocently asked.

hao smirked and took this opportunity to lean towards you and kiss your neck. "here" he looked back at you, smiling feeling proud of himself as you froze in your position. "hey, you said you would only kiss me if i got the answers right" you smacked his arm playfully. "yeah but, i was really hoping you would get that one" he bit his bottom lip and winked at you. you rolled your eyes as he only snickered in response. he shuffled all the cards and pulled a random one from the deck.

"ooh, the gracilis!" hao widened his eyes while reading the question. "ah, i know this one because my step father used to always complain about it - its somewhere here" you encircled your inner thigh. "thats correct!" hao clapped and cheered making you also clap in response. hao carefully spread your legs apart and started lifting up one of the leg openings before you grabbed his fist, stopping him. "hm? what's wrong?" hao looked up at you in between your thighs. "y-you'll see my stretch marks..." you looked away while hiding half of your face with your hand. "so? if tigers can proudly flaunt their stripes in the wild then so can you" he continued exposing your thigh before kissing it. "that's where the gracilis is" you bit your lip as your face flushed pink, looking at where he just kissed you. not only that, that comparison made you feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. maybe hao is right, this body isn't so bad after all. you're just a fluffy cat in this world full of strays — with tiger stripes.

#zb1 #zhang hao #zb1 imagines #zerobaseone #zhang hao imagines #zhanghao #zhanghao imagines #zb1 smut #zhang hao smut #zhanghao smut #body posititivity #💌anon <3

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ju-sakka · 1 year

Text

Genre: hurt/comfort, fluff, established relationship

Pairing: Seungmin × reader

W.C.: 1.3k

A/N: projected my own struggles onto this lol

This is my first time posting a fic on here, so please do drop your feedback!

I posted this on Instagram and it didn't get as much traction as my other fics, lol

Eyes heavy and wide, you wondered if the blinking contest you've been holding with the cursor since the afternoon would come to an end anytime soon.

Thing is, you were so determined to at least get one paragraph done. Only one. But you could feel your dry eyelids mocking you when they stung yet again due to the blinding whiteness of the empty docs sheet lighting up the screen and your dark room—which had the exact opposite effect on your mood as the sight was definitely not lighting it up.

Why were you even trying when you've come up with nothing so far for the past couple of hours? You still held out a bit of hope, you supposed, that something—one idea—would survive the jumble in your mind. But deep down, you knew that was not how it would play out. Not in this state, at least. It still beats you why you even bothered.

A dull headache was growing in your temples. Your brain was throbbing against your skull. It felt so hopeless trying to pry even a word out of it; the gummy thing seemed to turn hard and stubborn upon even attempting to think.

Perhaps it was best if you didn't think. But you're thinking right now. But does that mount to anything? You've lost your touch a couple of months ago. You're not even sure anymore if it's resurrectable; you've tried and tried and tried but it never paid off. It never did. Maybe it's best if you just give u—

“Baby?” your thoughts got pushed back into your mind by a voice, his voice, but you couldn't bring yourself to react. The world felt too far away at that moment. It felt as if you were only observing it operate behind a veil.

Your sensitive ears caught onto every little sound, though; the keys jingling, his feet shuffling for the slippers, his steps growing louder as he got closer, and finally the door to your bedroom opening.

“Hey, you're here” he sounded— you didn't know how he sounded… concerned? Relieved? Upset? You turned to face him, a courteous smile painting your dry lips out of habit. “Hey…”

He opened the door wider then, still holding onto the knob. “What are you doing that you're so invested in?” he asked—what have you been doing? You did not have a simple answer to that, words rushed and tumbled and stumbled over each other in your head, and imagining the time and effort it would take to lay them all out neatly was so very overwhelming; so you just shrugged.

His body tensed up. He knew this sight all too well; your face contorting ever so slightly as you shift your gaze to the ground, your index rubbing against your nose, your body stiff, your jaw locked; and he knew to simply say you weren't well in these times was an understatement.

In a moment he was there, the back of your chair pressed against his chest as his arms wrapped around your shoulders, and you involuntarily leaned into him, head resting on his collarbone and cheek rubbing against his upper arm.

Suddenly all answers of why you even tried holding any progress reminded you of their own selves.

For one, it was his soft touch; his thumb tracing random patterns on your shoulder, his lips pressing kisses to your sore head. For two, it was his firm and safe embrace; his arms locked securely against your body, the pressure grounding you into reality. For three, it was his gentle love-laced voice; he said “I missed you.”

Anchor. Seungmin was your anchor.

You smiled then, weakly, and nuzzled your face further into him, breathing in his scent, feeling yourself slowly being pulled onto much stable grounds.

“I missed you, too,” you replied, your voice a fading whisper. You hadn't actually realized how much you'd missed him, how much you needed him close, until you were in his presence. And just how badly you wanted to stay like this forever, for this to be the only thing that mattered in the whole wide world; you being in his arms, pampered with his love.

Your breath found its way out easily in a deep satisfied sigh, you melting into him sending his own heart melting with you, and he held you a bit tighter, but then the chair was making it impossible to have the full contact you both desired.

“How about you come to bed?” he mumbled in your hair, and he planted one last kiss on your head as you nodded. Every cell in you jolted expectantly, giddy for the comfort to come.

Your skin losing contact with his felt so unbearable, but he immediately took your hand as he reached the bed with two long strides, sitting up against the headboard and pulling you right into his embrace.

You didn't wait a second before pressing yourself as close to his body as possible; you threw your leg over his to intertwine them together, wrapped your arm tightly around him, and buried your face in his chest.

You wanted to cry right then.

The urge had already bubbled up your throat. You felt it simmering in your guts first, wrenching your stomach as it made its way up and tightened your lungs, your body shivering at the strain of it all.

You were tired, so tired… exhausted.

“It's okay, love…” a kiss to your head “I'm right here” and as if on cue; you broke at his words.

A violent sob shook your body, pained whines tumbled off your lips which you had helplessly pressed to his shirt to quiet yourself; and he sighed.

His left hand found your sloppy hair tie, carefully pulling it, your hair falling free and the tie thrown away, and then he started combing your locks with his slender skilled fingers, just the way you loved.

You stuttered a deep inhale, collecting enough air with which you can push out the words weighing your heart and playing like a broken record in your mind “I ca—n't do it, Seung” you sniffled.

“I should just g— give— gi—ve up” you choked the last two words out, realizing how wrong you were when you thought it'd feel lighter to say them out loud, because they hurt when you kept them in, and did so even more when you said them out loud, hence the wail you let out that carried not even halg the agony you were feeling inside.

“I know this is how you feel, and I completely understand why you're feeling this, but it's just not true that you can't.” His fingers abandoned your hair and met with your chin instead, gently tilting your head up to meet his gaze. His eyes were so kind. You never doubted their sincerity, and you felt so lucky for that.

And so seeing the adoration and worry dancing in his irises, evident in his empathetic smile and the soft arch of his brow—made it all not matter for a second.

“You just cannot simply expect to jump back where you were last time. It's a muscle you need to train. Ask Changbin about what happened when he didn't work out for a month even”

You pursed your lips, but you couldn't keep a laugh from bursting out of them, and you watched his eyes as they grew smaller with the stretch of his face into a warm smile. “There's the sound I love”

You didn't hate that your lower lip quivered, the urge to cry present again, and you loved that you didn't hate it with him. You loved that you did not feel pathetic.

“Oh, don't cry! I love you as well!” he said, dramatically pulling you closer, and you laughed again while hitting his back, his chest rising with each adorable giggle.

“I love you too” you finally replied once all giggles were set free out of you. His lips met your hair in a soft kiss, and yours met his chest in another one.

He knew you were just as grateful.

#stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #skz imagines #kpop imagines #skz scenarios #skz x reader #stray kids #skz fanfic #hurt/comfort #stray kids imagines #skz #seungmin fluff #seungmin x reader #ju's fics

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an4mations · 8 months

Text

AU? I honestly don't know at this point.

I was just scrolling through Youtube as usual, when I stumbled upon this (Original song here). It may not seem like much to others, but this has a special place in my heart. I used to watch this on repeat for so many hours XD

The point is, when I saw this in my recommendations, I immediately played it, giggling and kicking my legs as nostalgia washed over me. When suddenly (or rather unfortunately) I got an idea. Or two actually, when I pondered upon my silly little thought for a moment.

So, from the first until 00:24:-

"I am the jester, my job's to entertain. And it seems that soon enough it too will be my job to reign. Over all that you see, over all that you know. As the king is slowly dying, any moment he could go. Yes the king is slowly dying, any moment he will go."

I am imagining Dream and Nightmare. Dream being the king, and Nightmare as the jester.

Nightmare is standing in front of the tree of life, smiling as he took a bow while introducing himself. The camera spans across the tree and focuses on Dream, who was chatting and laughing with the villagers. The camera slowly pans across the crowd, finally returning to Nightmare who had a wide grin plastered across his face.

From 00:50 to 1:11 (or 1:37):-

"What good is a crown if the brow it sits on is that of a dead man? I'll wear my cap and painted smile with pride, my trusty baton in my hand. And you will see me, sire, I'll make my way back to you. You cannot stop me sire, your time is up, I see right through you!"

Dream is shown to be cheerily chatting with the villagers, though a quick glimpse can be seen of a tendril shot through his bleeding eye socket. The atmosphere returns to normal, with Nightmare smiling as the camera zooms in on his eerie smile, right before the black apple in his hand. Nightmare is then seen walking upto Dream as a black liquid slowly engulfs his figure, with multiple tendrils emerging from his back as he is both physically and mentally corrupted by the liquid. Dream stares at his once-loving brother in horror, backing away only to stumble upon a rock and fall on the grass. The atmosphere feels rather intimidating and threatening, as Nightmare inches closer to the fallen Guardian. His smile only grows wider as he crouches down in front of the scared Guardian. He chuckles as his tendril grows sharp, and in a split second cracks the now not-so positive Guardian's skull.

This is mostly a rough layout for the animatic in my head which I may or may not get to. Boy do I love writing. Also, this is the main style of writing that will be seen across my fics (if I ever write one that is). So, yeah. Been thinking about this for an hour now.

@salzab @liliallowed :)

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autumn-solitude · 5 months

Text

1000ish word snippet of a wip with the dynamic I'm aiming for between Killer and Cross (in a modern au setting).

In which Cross is rudely awoken by his bodyguard and Killer takes the opportunity to take a nice cozy nap on top of his surly client:

Cross woke with a start, tank soaked with sweat that followed the imagined threat from his nightmares. Reality sank in and his magic flared immediately in response to an actual threat.

Someone was in the room with him.

Cross acted on the impulse of the sudden danger, lashing out without any thought apart from 'eliminate the threat'.

The blue bone attacks from his attacker were swifter, jamming through each of Cross’ humeri, ulna and radius. Just as quickly, a sharp blade lightly slid up along the front of each of Cross' cervical vertebrae, dipping between each one to flick sensitive magic, until the flat of the knife tapped beneath Cross’ jawbone to tilt his skull back.

White eye lights blazed in irritation up at the empty black sockets with liquid hate dripping down from them (and splattering onto his face) above a bemused toothy grin.

“Good mornin', sleeping beauty.” The blade pressed harder but didn’t draw any marrow as the grin Killer wore tugged wider, the empty sockets squinted up in glee. “I coulda already offed you three times before you woke up. You slippin' up on me, Mr. ‘I-can-take-care-of-myself’?"

Killer was a fucking menace; how did he ever become a bodyguard when he pulled stunts like this?

“Couldn’t help but notice you helped all your neighbors out with fixing up their places and all but then do a shit job keeping this place locked up tight.” Killer added, shaking his head as if disappointed. The knife blade kept Cross' skull tipped back. “So I got ya new locks for your front door, bedroom and the windows. Oh, and some boards for when you need to block the doors or windows when I ain't round. Aaaand, I added some audio mics around the place and one cam near the front door, in case you decide to sleep through possibly being killed or abducted, and I gotta come rescue your burly ass.”

“That’s not in your job description.” Cross pointed out, discreetly shifting the lower half of his body, only to find that Killer had his legs pinned with his own. "And I'm not burly. S'just the magic." Cross found that Killer had one arm braced on his chest while the other held the knife to his throat. Killer looked like he was having the time of his life harassing the monster he was supposed to be guarding.

“It isn’t part of my job, but let’s call it an investment to your continued well-being.” Killer agreed too easily as he moved the knife away and shimmied backward, so he was perched on Cross’ lap. A leer appeared as Killer looked Cross over. “And nah. You're a big guy even without the summoned magic. By the way, nice pajamas. Didn’t know that your man tits could be contained like that without the fabric tearing. 'specially with it soaked in sweat. You gonna change that?”

“I get hot at night.” Cross defended his tight tank top that currently hugged his ribcage and defined the magic formed beneath. He declined to comment on exchanging the sweat drenched one for a new one with how intent Killer's gaze currently was.

“I’ll agree with the ‘hot’ part.” Killer said distractedly as he tucked his knife away somewhere.

“What do you want from me, for the 'upgrades' to the apartment?” Cross asked grudgingly, tensing when he saw Killer's leer deepen.

“Oh, not much.” Killer said, still smiling that infuriating grin. “Just this.” The target soul hovering over his chest went to an inverted heart as he shuffled back. Then, without warning, Killer sprawled himself across Cross’ body, soul pressing into Cross as Killer face-planted directly into the other’s chest. “Mmm, nice cushioning you got here, Crossy.”

“Get off.” Cross demanded, acutely aware of the way Killer’s soul trapped between them hummed with delight. Cross' battered soul was a traitor as it contently thrummed in return to the other soul's closeness.

The blue attacks vanished.

Killer let out an obnoxious snoring noise.

“Killer.”

“Shh. You asked what I wanted; this is it. I’m taking my payment by burying my face into your warm man tits despite the magic sweat-soaked tank top and getting a bit of shuteye before dealing with your self-destructive bullshit.”

“It’s magical padding, you ass!” Cross retorted hotly; he was not blushing. He was not blushing.

"Is that what they're calling it now?"

"Killer."

"You don't have to have your ecto summoned, but it sure is comfy."

"I'm burring off some excess magic since you don't want me going to the gym as often as I normally do!" Cross grumbled; he should shove Killer off of him.

“Mmm, if this is the outcome, then maybe you should work out less." Killer sighed into Cross' chest. "You're so nice and toasty.”

“Killer!”

“That’s my name.” Killer drawled as he nuzzled his face further in to enjoy the warm magic beneath the tank top, sighing happily. “Don’t wear it out till I've gotten to take you out for a celebratory ‘hey, you didn’t die’ drink. For now, I'm gonna take that nap." Smug bastard did exactly as he said and dozed off cuddled on top of Cross.

A short silence passed.

"Do you want me to leave?" A sudden question, as Killer's body tensed as if to move.

Cross hesitated, then really listened to Killer's soul as it beat between them.

Acceptance/Worry/Self-Hate

"Killer."

"Yeah?"

"I am going back to sleep." Cross said, sockets closing. "Try not to kill me."

"Heh. Sure thing, Crossy."

Cross quietly listened again to Killer's soul.

Surprise/Guilt/Gratefulness

The time that followed gave Cross time to think of his life choices that led him to this point. To where it landed him with Killer as his appointed bodyguard for witness protection for an upcoming trial. All the while, both he and the actually now asleep Killer both knew perfectly well that Cross was more than capable of freeing himself once the blue attacks had vanished.

But Killer knew Cross was lonely, and Cross knew that Killer had trouble lowering his guard for long enough to get any decent sleep.

Cross couldn't help but feel that this wasn't going to end well. He didn't sleep the rest of that night. Instead, Cross guarded the slumbering Killer's sleep, since he was aware that Killer was doing his best to prevent Cross from getting himself killed.

#fic wip #undertale au fic #cross sans x killer sans #kross ship #snippet of wip #bodyguard/witness protection au #writing whole chapter snippets now apparently

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dranna · 1 month

Text

contents: description of body horror(?) how you call it, description of mutated creature (aka Voldemort), Writing exercise: Voldemort

a/n: I haven’t read all the books and I’m not planning to do so. I got through till order of the phoenix and it was already a battle on my side. I hate the books and Harry’s character, I’m sorry. So if there is something not making sense canon vise here or any of my future writings, that’s why.

One of the things that always strikes me as odd, that Voldy isn’t that scary(?) or gruesome as the main villain of the story. Based on the things we learn about him, we never see much of his actions. I think his character would’ve been more interesting if we see more horror fuel stuff from him … or just him to do anything .I also imagine him looking more reptile like and terrifying.

English is still not my first language

drawing is by me :D

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An eerie feeling froze the blood in the participants' veins, as they heard the sound of naked feet tapping on the dark, marble floors. The patting was mixed with the sound of skales flowing on the shiny surface, omitting a low hissing ring.

The Malfoy manor was silent, even more so than usual. An unnatural stillness covered the building from top to bottom. It felt like the house was sick to its bone, trying to sweat its uninvited guests out.

This stillness was thick like fog, and was silently screaming into their ears.

The halls were dark, only illuminated by flowing candles, which lended the naked legged creature an even more haunted look. It was a stretch to call that being a man, because he wasn’t. Not anymore. He tossed away his humanity long ago, when the first part of his soul got torn out from his chest and shoved into an object.

Killing, consuming, ruling.

More power, more fear in hearts, more torment in minds.

The Dark Lord was walking slowly towards his ‘throne’ at the end of the long, gloomy table.

His cold figure casted a long shadow on the dark void of the floor, making it look even more ghostly.

He appeared as a mutated skeleton in the huge chair, swallowed by the fabric of his long, inky cape. His spider-leg-fingers lacked any meat or muscle, there was only paper thin stretched skin on the bones. As their gaze anxiously traveled up on skinny arms and on clothing, they saw a wretched neck first, not leaving anything to imagination. Every artery was bulging out, mercilessly working to keep the creature amongst the living, fueled by dark magic. The veins created an uneven surface of his porcelain skin, sticking out then diving back into bones.

When their eyes got used to the view of their horrific embroidery, they met with The Eyes. They sat deep in the dark holes of the reptile skull. They were glowing with a reddish light and burning with an icy flame. They lacked any kind of warmth that illuminated the orbs of men, they rather hid well contained violence and the enjoyment of other’s pain. His pupils were two lines as if a snake, cutting the red irises in half. Their look was hard and cruel, expanding in a cat-like manner when seeing something innocent breaking.

The shape of his skull tossed away the resemblance of a human’s, it borrowed the build of a reptile. If possible, the skin became even whiter and thinner than on the hands, in some places forming skale like growth around the eyes and mouth. The flesh of his nose has rotted away, leaving two empty holes in its place. The jaw extended, became longer and wider, bearing many shark-like teeth, with 4 huge fangs. The tongue became long and V shaped, having the ability to smell for prey.

There he sat at the long table, Nagini twirling around his neck and hissing something into his elf-like ears, smiling spine chillingly at his audience.

“Malfoy, why don’t you introduce me to your son?”

The voice that broke the silence was low, almost a whisper, but ran through the hall clearly. It was a strict sound, not tolerating anything but full obey of its orders.

The scarlet irises turned towards a young man, with shiny blond hair, pale face and big, gray eyes. He was wearing nothing but black which made his nervous paleness sickly.

“Perfect” - hissed the Lord while rotted away lips twitched into a terrifying smile, showing his huge sharp teeth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tagging: @giosnape

#im typing it rn on the the train #so I’m sorrry for typos #my writing #writing exercise #lord voldemort #voldemort #Voldemort fic #Voldemort fanfiction #body horror #(?)#my writings

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meteor752 · 1 year

Text

Double life kids, eight years later

The final designs for the kids. Wont make anymore, unless I finally get on with making that Superhero au I said I would do a few months ago

Anyways

I’ve been working really hard on these designs, and some of them are probably the best I’ve ever made! So I really hope you like them!

Liana

(A few years down the road, the watcher genes started to become more prominent. The extra pairs of wings and the eye change are just the beginning too! Her color palette is kinda a mess but it’s just how she rolls. Top hat with goggles and a corset because Steampunk vibes are cool. Also her Flyguy bow, just in case)

Parrot pal has successfully started her own business, where she sells everything from deep slate to gold to clothing and mercenary jobs. The wider the spread, the better the bread

Lives very close to the shopping district, to keep an eye on her shops

The Watcher thing sure is…interesting. Grian hasn’t told her the full story, so she isn’t sure exactly what she is but she knows that it’s something unworldy

Is still learning to disguise it

Has a fierce rivalry with Mumbo over trying to become the riches hermit. Mumbo had no idea this rivalry is happening

She’s bestie with her little brother, Grumbot Prime

Wes

(Golden boy. His Hc and current design has a lot of similarities, mainly because when it comes to change he likes to take things slow. Got a haircut tho, plus many tattoos and a circlet to represent his status as the son of the sun god (Tho who knows how true that actually is). Also has a skull ring, in honor of Jekiv)

Baby boy is doing fine. Mostly

Is decked out in gold because again, he loves to mine, and gold is his favorite ore

Lost part of his ear and hearing in a creeper explosion, least favorite of his scars

Has improved his self confidence greatly over the years, which in turn improved his relationship with his dad

(Side note, I can imagine Xisuma whitelisting like a therapist or something just because these three, especially Wes, has some things to work through)

Is actually an extremely skilled farm creator, just like his other dad

Spends a lot of time trying to find a way to fix their code so they can leave and rejoin servers

Gertrude

(Total princess warrior vibes for her. Wanted her to be a mixture of Butch and femme, in the weirdest way possible. She’s now also wearing shoes! I wanted her to have heels alright? Her soles eventually got worn out so she’s wearing a pair of boots)

One of the best warriors on Empires SMP

Used to have separate outfits for being a monster hunter and being a noble, but eventually just combined the two to make her life easier

(Eddie made her armor, she’s very grateful)

The armor had to be made fireproof, because despite being older she still scuffles playfully with Johnny

She went through quite a large number of weapons before settling on the mace. It just, “fit her”

Also very few people can actually lift her mace, because it’s extremely heavy.

Sometimes helps out fWhip in Gobland with redstone, just because it’s fun. She enjoys the challenges that he presents to her

Wants to someday face ten withers and take down them all. Until then, she will train with all her might

Johnny

(My friend told me he looked evil lol. Ran out of cowboy outfits a long time ago, so here’s a more outlaw vibey one. The goggles and scarf are to protect his face from sand though, so likes there’s a reason lol. Butternut stands proud at the scene as well)

Despite his outer appearance, he’s still the nice lad you all know and love

He is more of a free roamer nowadays though, mostly traveling the mesa around Tumble Town, sometimes even beyond it

After Liana left for Empires, Johnny started helping Pix out with his excavations

When there’s word of a new discovery far away from any of the empires, you can bet your ass that Johnny is he first man on the case

And sure, he caaaaaaaaaaan use his elytra and get there in maybe half a day, but that beats the point of traveling!

An absolute expert at dealing with mobs at this point, especially creepers. Goes fucking crazy with that whip of his

Despite it all, he’s still a simple country bumpkin at heart, who likes his breakfast early and his music country

Jassy

(Queen is extremely anime. I just searched “anime ninja female” and tried to get general style of outfit correct. Her hair was almost impossible, but looking on it now it looks fantastic. Her daggers are also enchanted, that’s why they’re purple lol)

Jassy is a trophy wife and she takes her job very seriously

She does know her way around redstone, and she ain’t a bad builder (She’s the one who made her and Liana’s base), but her wife is out making bank while she takes care of their many, many cats

The mercenary part of Double Co. is her entirely though.

The story behind her damaged eye is a mystery to all, as every time someone asks about it she makes up some new fantastical tale

In reality she was flipping her daggers while laying down on the ground, then accidentally dropped one. It ain’t as cool as fighting an alligator, or taking down twenty wardens at once though

Jekiv

(Glow up of the fucking century my dude. He ain’t abandoning his love for pastels anytime soon, but that almost makes him more scary. Exchanged his old staff for a scythe just for the aesthetic. If you look closely at the hand holding the scythe, you can see a golden ring)

*Becomes a mass murderer* ~Character development~

He’s still not a full fledged necromancer yet, though he can summon entire corpses now. Actually getting them to do his bidding is another thing

The squirrel on his shoulders is named Chimp. She’s his familiar, and she’s thirsty for blood

Has spent nearly four years trying to solve the mystery of The Evermoore, but hasn’t come out with much result

Did find out he has no soul, or at least not a traditional one, so that’s neat!

Existential crisis aside, Jekiv is also trying to figure out a way for their code to be fixed.

Novo

(Pov: Ur about to want and rip your ears off. Hat decorated, coat fluffy, heels fucking iconic, my man has the drip. A weird drip, but the drip nonetheless. And after all these years, he still does the ruined makeup look. Some things never change)

Switched to playing the bagpipe, because those things are both loud and difficult to learn to play. Novo does not know how to play, but that doesn’t stop him one bit

Best big brother to Oli’s child, and with that I mean the absolute worst influence a child could ask for

Actually managed to reconcile with Scott, despite all odds. It’s not a perfect father-son relationship, but like none of them have that so it’s fine

Wears a lot of pink partly to match with Gert, and partly because it’s a loud and obnoxious color, so it garners attention

The wealthiest of all the kids, just by people paying him to leave him Tf alone

There’s some fic ideas I still have with the kids, plus maybe the fourth series will give me some new material, but these are probably the final designs I will make for them.

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witchthewriter · 2 years

Note

I've been casually stalking your blog for a bit and loved the ship posts as of late. I'd like to join in and will be reblogging a fair few of your post on my main blog & BTVS side-blog (peroxidepoems) I'd like to request a Level Three tier for Stranger Things, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and Marvel. Description: I'm 5'2, olive complexion, transmale (he/him/they), with a preference for males partners but demiromantic toward any gender. I have short brown hair, often unstyled - unless you consider bedhead to be one, and hazel-eyed with glasses. I'd say my physical build is average - not too lithe or toned. I have a fair few blemishes, some moles but mainly scars; on my hands, arms, and legs. The biggest and most insecure scar is on my lower back, wider than 3'' and travels up my spine by 6''. All gained naturally by being adventurous as a child and getting into trouble.

As wardrobe goes: I'd consider myself a misfit at best and a confused goth at worse. I'm often in worn-out ripped jeans, converses or boots that have seen better days, a black design logo/band shirt, with an equally noticeably well-worn jacket - leather and cloth. Even in extreme heat, I wear long-sleeved shirts or a hoodie - subconscious of my scars being visible. I'm usually lugging around a messenger bag that has pins and patches. Honestly, I always have a safety pin or a patch holding something together. I truly believe in using something until it can no longer hold its purpose. Even when an item can no longer be of use, be that a bag or beloved shirt, I'll hang it up on the wall or on a shelf. Personality: I'm introverted by nature; quiet and observant. Often choosing a homebody life, consuming media, rather than partying. Although I still enjoy drinks with friends and conversing about shared interests. I can be protective and hot-heated at times, blunt when necessary, and overly subconscious about how others perceive me. I try my best to not let it get to me but the thoughts are still there. I was once told, before the age of twelve, that I was an old soul. I struggle with selective mutism due to anxiety. It has been a part of my life since I can remember, once resulting in a whole year of not speaking in my early childhood. During such episodes, I fall back to ASL or choose to not converse at all. Likes/Dislikes: I have a fascination with macabre. Not necessarily the gore aspect but more along the lines of psychology. With this, I tend to study what is considered dark mythology; supernatural creatures, paranormal, and the deities associated with death. I watch true crime shows and documentaries as well, but in the sense of wanting to understand - not to romanticize what has been done. With that said, I do find interest in horror movies and shows alike. My favorite category is psychological thrillers. I enjoy a piece that makes you have to analyze, imagine, and contemplate. As for dislikes, there are very few things I show a distaste toward. Overly crowded areas, the deep ocean, spicy food, and the lack of passion that some choose to have are among the list. So many are willing to write a person off by sheer looks alone, not putting effort into knowing a person, and I find that sad. Everyone has a story to tell, a lifetime of knowledge to share, and should be given an opportunity to speak for themselves. Rather than being written off as a lost cause. Or worse, not worth the time or effort. Hobbies: Drawing is my main sense of expression. Often done as an outlet and show of affection. I enjoy reading and writing as well. There is not a time when I don't have a book or drawing pad on hand. I also dabbled in music. Having done seven years of high school band, marching and concert. I grew up with the piano too and picked up the violin later in life. Although I am a master to none. There were other times that I've done martial arts and skateboarding, but neither of those went very far. Now, besides art and writing, I mainly collect skull-like merch. From an hourglass, shirts, miniature gem carvings, mugs/cups, to wall decor like a dragon skull incense burner.

I apologize if this was quite a lot to read, but I do hope it is useful. Thank you for taking the time to match me with the character you see fit. I find these fascinating and look forward to the outcome. 💙

Want to be shipped? Here be the instructions 🦋

I love all this information - it is SO helpful! Both of your blogs are out of this world dude - they're literally so gorgeous🌷Also wow are you a writer because this is so eloquent! I hope we can be friends/ mutuals!!!

What each ship has in common:

⋆ Caring ⋆ Genuine ⋆ Authentic ⋆ Witty ⋆ Charming

𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

𝐷𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

I ship you with Steve Harrington. I think you would do well with someone that can be happily alone with you. Someone that doesn’t seek out heart-pumping adventure; someone like a parental figure... responsible in that sense.

𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠

・Steve would always encourage you - in whatever you do. Whether that’s band/music, your drawing, etc.

“Babe, you’re a genius,” he would mutter against your neck.

・Knows when you’ve had enough of other people, he can talk for the both of you. His extroverted nature makes it easy to be around because even when you do want to be around people, but don’t want to talk - he’ll step up to the plate

・Writes cute little notes and hides them in places. Your books, your bags, your drawers. He loves gift giving.

・Would absolutely learn ASL. Hands down, no questions asked. He will spend hours learning everything about it and would surprise you when you didn’t want to talk

・

𝐁𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐕𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐒𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫

𝐷𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

I ship you with Angel! He would absolutely understand your quiet and reserved nature. He’s similar in that aspect; he doesn’t enjoy a lot of people’s company and seeks out solitude.

𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠

・He would do everything for you - if you needed groceries, anything to do with your car, tasks around the house. Angel is on it. He likes that he has someone to look after, other than himself.

・Angel has seen everything and been around nearly every type of person there is. So nothing can scare him off. I say this because some people don’t understand neurodivergent people, but he would definitely get you.

・You would relax together alone, but together. Oh god I could have worded that better. But basically, you would be in the same room, him on the lounge with a book and you at the table with your tablet, drawing something (probably him.)

・Type of bf to frame any sort of drawing or artwork that you do. He beams when he sees what you’ve made

“That is definitely going in the hallway.”

・Loves showing you everything he knows, he’s experienced. You would always feel safe with him, so your anxiety was getting too much, he would know how to calm you down. You’ve made plans and shared techniques on how to do this.

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐥

𝐷𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

I ship you with Druig! I just think he would completely understand you. He has darker thoughts about humanity (because of what he’s seen), and you give him hope. Your thoughts, your dreams, your hobbies. He understands humanity more because of you.

𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠

・He would love to show you the best books, and make Phastos create the best technology so that you could draw/create with even better utensils.

・Druig loves just being around you. You’re steady aura makes him feel at ease. Which is actually how you feel around him.

・He doesn’t like the general population, and only goes out when he needs to. He’s rather reserved and stoic, but he does tease you a lot.

・Druig loves music and would ask about your favourite songs. He’d ask about your playlists, which era you like the most, favourite artists etc. And then he would make a playlist with all the songs that remind him of you.

・He would lean his forehead against yours a lot; and definitely wants to hold your hand. I honestly think Druig is affectionate but in little ways. Like bumping his arm against yours, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, sitting with your thighs together.

#ships #ship game #let me ship you #buffy the vampire slayer #stranger things #marvel

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kariachi · 2 years

Text

Some au-brand Osmobeast because because.

A meet-cute and its build-up.

“What’s the stakes?” Tracey turned to her sister, who raised her hands in surrender. There’d be no help there. She bit her lip, humming, as she considered the matter on her own, face splitting into a sharp grin after a few long moments.

“Molly and I,” she said, “are in town for an art exhibition our cousin is in. On 39th I think-”

“Forty-ninth,” Molly cut in.

“Thanks. If I win, you have to go and ooh and ahh over his work.” Raising a bow, Gar turned to Vic. He shrugged.

“Doesn’t seem like much in the way of stakes.” The grin didn’t so much as move.

“You’re famous,” she explained, “if people even think you’re into his work, it’ll get more attention.” Well, that certainly made sense, taking advantage to bolster their cousin’s career. He could get behind that.

“Okay, but if I win that’s two-hundred to Johns Hopkins.” If anything Tracey grinned wider, her sister smiling beside her. Yeah, he definitely was liking these people.

“Deal,” she said, turning towards the bar proper. “Could we get two Red Eyes over here, please?”

Gar woke up with the hangover from hell, back in his room at the Tower. Fuck, he needed to do something with his ceiling so it’d be less bright. Desert night scene or something maybe. He’d decide after coffee and some fucking aspirin. Rolling out of bed, still in last night’s clothes, he dragged himself out of his room and headed for the kitchen.

Vic was waiting for him with coffee, some cinnamon rolls, and a shit-eating grin.

“What the fuck happened last night,” Gar muttered as he sat down, going for the coffee like it was life itself.

“You got into a drinking contest with a tourist.” He glared at his so-called best friend.

“After that.”

“You lost miserably.” Fucking motherfucker.

“Man, it feels like my skull is in four pieces, stop with the smartassery.” Chuckling, Vic pushed the cinnamon rolls closer to him.

“They promised to donate to Johns Hopkins anyway, as long as you kept up your end of the bargain. Then I dragged your semi-conscious ass home.”

“Thank you.” Yeah, yeah, there’d been a bargain. The woman- Tracey, her name’d been Tracey, nice woman- was gonna make a donation and he… Sighing, Gar took another long drag of coffee with a frown. “I don’t even like art.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to learn to fake it,” Vic said, pulling out his phone. “I found the place for you, you’ve got until five Friday to figure it out.”

“You showed up.”

“You don’t have to sound surprised.” Tracey just laughed at him, and he couldn’t entirely blame her. He’d never been to an art exhibition, never felt any desire to attend, he found museums boring and couldn’t imagine this being any better. Dick’d had to give him a crash course in these things, and he still felt like he stuck out like a sore thumb.

But then, that was vaguely the point, wasn’t it?

“Sorry,” she said, “family’s had a history with less-than-reliable heroes. Fuck, we got a call from one of Kev’s buddies fifteen minutes ago claiming an emergency with his girlfriend. You’ll find her talking to Molly over by the oil paintings.” Snorting, Gar shook his head. Hero or no- and he idly wondered who exactly it was giving these nice people trouble- some people were just flakes like that.

“Well, I keep my promises,” he said. “Now where’s this art I’m supposed to be swooning over?” According to Dick he was supposed to make it all seem casual, which he figured he could do well enough, but he still needed to know where he was heading for, what he was looking for.

“The room in the back left corner. You’ll know it when you see it, trust me.” Well, that was helpful. Still, he flashed Tracey a grin and slipped passed her to begin wandering the exhibition proper.

It was hard to keep his attention on the artwork, which felt really rude given the situation. Even after years getting his ADHD in some sort’ve line, everything was quiet and still and provided minimal stimulation to his poor brain. Yes, the art was very pretty, even if he didn’t get some of it, but would it have killed the people in charge to at least have some sort’ve music going? They even could’ve tied it in, get some nobody to do it up, but no. The other people milling about were far more interesting, and it took real effort for Gar to stick to quick words and brief conversations as he made his way around the place. It would have been far too easy to latch onto somebody and never actually follow through on his end of the bargain.

The back left room and a chunk of the space outside it were taken up with sculptures. A handful of people were wandering about, most of them chattering around a true-to-life saluki that looked to be painted wood, eyeing up the various pieces. Some in metal, some in wood, plastic, stone, from abstract shapes to near realism. There was only one that really caught Gar’s attention though. Towards the back, between a junk mosaic and an intricately carved wood serpent, one of the wall pieces was moving. It was the only thing he’d seen so far that did, an irregular shape in small red and blue gears, with a single green one being passed around the piece. For a long moment he just watched it, the rhythmic movement and quiet whirr and clicking working like a balm. The gears looked like they were made of some sort’ve stone though, and the question of whether they were or it was just some fancy artwork eventually pulling his attention from the almost hypnotic piece enough for him to chance the little plaque beneath it.

‘The Journey, Kevin Levin-Jones’. Huh, Tracey had mentioned a ‘Kev’, hadn’t she. Well, looked like she’d been right about him knowing it when he saw it. His eyes went wide as he continued reading, the plaque describing the medium as ‘steel, ruby, sapphire, and emerald’. That was about the last thing he’d expected. They were shiny, yes, but he wasn’t exactly an expect on any sort’ve rocks or gems, and who made gears out of gemstones anyway. How? Forget faking interest, he honestly wanted to applaud this guy. Though something felt familiar about it…

The gears clicked away on the wall.

The gears clicked away in his head.

“If this fucker is a pokemon fan, I swear to god-”

“Oh, let me live a little.” Gar jumped at the sudden voice behind him- how the fuck did he get snuck up on?!- and spun to face the speaker. Three things were immediately obvious. One, he was very tall. Two, he was very handsome. Three, this obvious dork had submitted fucking fanart for an art exhibition. “They rejected my proper work for their last exhibition, this is what they get.” He couldn’t help but laugh, shaking his head.

“Dude. Still.”

“Twenty people have looked at it so far, plenty have called bullshit on the medium, but you are the first one to put it all together.” The man grinned at him, warm and bright and enough to make his heart do a little jump all on its own. “So, congrats on being the smartest bastard here.” Laughing harder, Gar straightened his back and grinned back, holding his hand out.

“Garfield Logan,” he said as they shook hands, the other man’s cool and calloused in his own.

“Kevin Levin. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

#fanfic #artsy!kevin will be pried from my cold dead hands this i vow #for non-pokemon-fan readers (hi angelo) ruby sapphire and emerald are the names of the first three games in pokemon's 3rd gen #and the plot of all the games is the journey the player takes around that gen's region #kevin literally got salty over being rejected and submitted abstract fanart for the next just to be a shit #was surprised as everyone else when the bastards actually *liked* that one

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forcesung · 24 days

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A slow smile spread across her guard's face. "Padawan try fool Bulgan. No Jedi tricks here. Bulgan and Kyakhta little slow, maybe. But that not mean we stupid." Rising and lumbering forward, he loomed over her seated form; a broad- chested, bald-pated, threatening mass of muscle and bone, unusually massive for an Ansionian. "You think Bulgan stupid?" "I did not say that, nor did I mean it," she responded soothingly. The Alwari backed off. "But I do see something else about you that I am sure of." The hulking native's eyes narrowed dangerously. "What that? Careful be, Padawan human. Bulgan not afraid of you." "I can see that. What I also see, and can sense in ways you cannot imagine, is that both you and your accomplice are in pain-and probably have been so for a long time."

Bulgan's brown, gold-flecked Ansionian eye bulged even wider than usual. "How-how you know that?" "In addition to the usual Jedi training, many of us have our own specialties. Areas of learning that we are especially drawn toward. Myself, I am a practicing healer." "But you human. Not Ansion." "I know." Her tone was tender, reassuring-compelling. "And I can't fix your poor back, or give you a prosthetic to re place your missing eye. But the pain in your mind is akin to the pain nearly all warm-blood sentients experience. It arises from certain kinds of neural breakdowns and malfunctions. It's as if someone was trying to wire a very complex computer and all the necessary materials and components were laid out before her, but she wasn't quite sure how to link everything together. So she did a job that was a little too hasty. Do you understand anything of what I'm saying, Bulgan?" The Alwari nodded slowly. "Bulgan not dumb. Bulgan understand. Haja, that just how Bulgan feel most of the time. Not wired right." Tilting his head slightly to one side, he stared at her hard out of his one good eye. "Padawan can fix that?" "I can't make any promises. But I can try."

"Fix pain in head." Her captor was clearly exerting a considerable mental effort. "No more pain here." He rubbed his forehead with his open palm. "That be a big thing. Bigger even, maybe, than credits." The effort at extended cogitation having exhausted his limited intellectual resources, he glared at her again. "How know Bulgan can trust you?" "I give you my word word as a Padawan, as a student of the Jedi arts, as one who has dedicated her life to their high ideals- and to mastering the skills of a healer." Obviously torn, her captor took a deep breath, glanced circumspectly at the door, and then turned back to her. "You try fix Bulgan. But if you try trick, I-" "I've given you my word," she interrupted him, forestalling his threat. "Besides, where could I go? The door is locked and barricaded from the outside. Or haven't you realized that you're locked in here with me?" She did not smile. "Your friend is taking no chances." "Locked in?" He rubbed his bare skull, his hand passing to either side of where a dark mane would normally be. "Bulgan confused." Immediately, she jumped on the opening thus offered. "Confusion comes from the pain you've been living with. Let me try to help you, Bulgan. Please. If I fail, it costs you nothing. Even if I succeed, you can still keep me in here because the door is locked from outside."

"That right. Padawan speak truth. Ou, you try." Meeting his gaze evenly, she gestured toward her bound wrists. "You have to untie me. To do this kind of work, I need my hands." He was instantly wary. "What for? Jedi trick?" "No. Please trust me, Bulgan. There are vastly more im portant things at stake here than my life, or the size of your future credit account." [...] [H]e reluctantly stepped behind Barriss and passed a desealer across her wrists. The opaque bond that restrained them promptly dissolved, breaking down into cellulose, catalyst, and water. Relieved to have her hands free, she rubbed firmly at her wrists. As the circulation began returning, she beckoned for him to approach. "Come here, Bulgan," she instructed him gently. He did so with head bowed, shuffling his feet like a child approaching its mother. A very strong, very dangerous child, she reminded herself. She did not have to ask him to lower his head farther. His poor bent spine had already placed it within reach. Extending both hands, palm downward, she tenderly cradled the sides of his skull, careful not to cover the aural openings. His flesh was warm to the touch- the normal Ansionian body temperature being several degrees higher than that of a human. Her eyes closed, and she began to concentrate.

A throbbing ran through her as her focus sharpened. An en during, agonizing ache that through straining and training she made her own. She let herself flow outward toward it, surrounding it with the soothing balm that was her own harmonious inner self. Within the damaged, misfiring neurons that were the source of the native's ongoing hurt, the Force compelled a subtle realignment of tissues, an almost imperceptible but physiologically critical alteration. She stood holding him like that for several long, silent minutes: healer and patient locked together in that mysterious, inscrutable mutual melding comprehensible only to another master of the Jedi healing arts. Not until all felt normal and natural and well did she finally allow herself to withdraw from the vulnerable state into which she had placed them both. Opening her eyes, she found herself staring back at her captor. But there was something different about him now: a faint but discernible change of posture, a glint instead of a dullness in his eye. He straightened slightly, as much as his broken, permanently bent back would allow, and looked slowly around the room. "How do you feel?" she finally prompted him when no words were forthcoming. "Feel? Bulgan feel-I feel good. Very good." Making fists of both three-fingered hands, he raised them toward the roof. "Really exceptionally remarkably good! Haja, jaha, ou oul" The little dance he proceeded to perform, joyfully throwing his arms repeatedly into the air all the while, lifted her hopes in concert with his spirit.

Then he stopped, lowered his hands, and said to her in a no tably different tone of voice than he had used before, "But you're still my prisoner, Padawan." When she slumped, he grinned, showing fine Ansionian teeth. "For about another minute." "You mean?..." His intent became clear when he walked over to her with a spring in his step that had been absent previously and bent to pass the desealer across her ankle bonds. They dissolved promptly, allowing her to stand. Her feet and legs numb from lack of use, she would have fallen had he not caught her in his strong arms. At which point the door clicked and Kyakhta entered the room. To say that the senior Alwari was startled by the sight that greeted his bulging eyes was an understatement worthy of a senior tax collector. The sight of the Jedi Padawan unbound was disquieting enough. The sight of her slumped slightly in his partner's arms was a spectacle that constituted an irresolvable conundrum. If Bulgan did not with his first utterance say exactly the right thing, Kyakhta was ready to bolt back outside and lock them both back in. Fortunately, the heretofore guileless Bulgan was now in a cerebral position to do so. "She fixed me," he informed his companion simply and straightforwardly, tapping the side of his head. "Fixed me here. She can fix you, too." "No promises," Barriss warned them both. "Fix what?" Kyakhta had already taken a wary step backward. "I not broken. What do you mean, fix me?" "Up here." Once more, the mentally mended Bulgan touched hand to head. "I have no more pain in my mind. I know you suffer from the same syndrome, my good friend. Let her work her Jedi healing on you." Another step back. The door was within reach. Easy to dart back out into the hallway, slam the barrier shut, and seal the lock. But-what had happened to Bulgan in his absence? Kyakhta wondered. He hadn't been gone very long. Only a few minutes, and now his good, honest, dumb companion in mutual exile and disgrace was talking like an infernal city councilor! No, he corrected himself. Not like a councilor.

Like a true Alwari nomad: independent, confident, and free. Three fingers hovered in the vicinity of the door. The Jedi made no move to stop him, though he sensed she might have done so. "What this nonsense about 'Jedi healing'?" "She worked it on me. Fixed my head, my mind. It doesn't hurt anymore, Kyakhta! I can think clearly again. My thoughts haven't been this free since I was a child and was thrown from that suubatar." His voice lowered. "That was the same throw, the bad dismount, that broke my back and stole my eye-and damaged my mind." "But I…" Kyakhta was at a loss for words. In the face of the evidence, in the face of his friend's face, he was forced to accept a seemingly inconceivable reality. There was another reality that would have to be faced, and quickly. Unbound hands outstretched, the Jedi was advancing slowly toward him.

"Let me help you, Kyakhta. I give you the same promise I made to Bulgan. Whether I can help you or not, I am still your prisoner." That was true, Kyakhta realized. Dissolved bonds not withstanding, he and his friend were still the ones in control here. Only they knew the way out of the building in which the cell was located. Only they could get her past the outer guards and security checkpoints. Of course, a Jedi Knight would probably make short work of such minor obstacles, but a Padawan still in training... Unarguably, she had worked a marvel with Bulgan. Could she take away the similar pain that had afflicted him all his adult life; remove the regular, pounding waves of agony that daily stabbed through his brain? Wasn't it worth, if nothing else, a try? "Go ahead," he told her, adding by way of warning, "if this a trick, the bossban may not receive you undamaged."

Paying no attention to the threat, she reached out and up to put her hands on the sides of his head and draw it toward her. Her fingers were cool against his skull, he realized, and there were too many of them, but otherwise her touch was inoffensive. Calming, even. Several moments later, he was blinking back at her with the same awed realization that had not long before nearly overcome his companion. Unlike Bulgan, he did not throw his arms wildly in the air and dance small circles. Instead, he bowed. As performed by an Ansionian, it was a particularly graceful and supple gesture. "I owe you my sanity, Padawan. For had you not interceded, I see surely now that the pain I have been living with would have led all too soon to utter madness, and eventually to death." Turning from her, he embraced his old companion-in- despair, long arms wrapping around Bulgan's broad shoulders, maned and bald head bobbing together in ardent, mutual exultation.

— The Approaching Storm, Alan Dean Foster

#barriss offee #the approaching storm #alan dean foster #excerpt #long post #OUGH this was long. but i needed to put it out there.

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bnha-dumpster · 3 years

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Alright, just wanted to make sure you weren’t uncomfortable! Oh and, you can choose if this is pseudo or normal (?) incest. But I’d like to request something where Bakugou walks in on his younger brother (male reader, and they’re both over 18, but they still live with their parents) masturbating with his shirt on. (probably that skull t-shirt) Then Bakugou fucks him (possibly overstimulation) and Y/n has to worry about keeping his moans in because their mother is downstairs. (Also this might be stupid but- I don’t mind degradation, but if you decide to write it then maybe not too harsh? I’m sensitive atm lol)

Thank you, <3

oh i actually like the premise of this! this is soft big bro bakugou hours

pairing: older brother bakugou x little brother male reader content warnings: incest, masturbation, praise kink, big brother kink, secret sex, overstimulation, excessive use of the word “nii-san” word count: 1.6k

You’ve always loved your brother. Well, maybe you love him too much. You’re not sure of the “normal” amount of love you should give a sibling, but you’re pretty sure you’re past that.

It might be from the fact that you think you don’t think he loves you at all- in any way. Bakugou has always been an aggressive person, you know that. He treats everyone roughly, even the people he cares about. You should be used to it. Still, it hurts. You didn’t inherit the tough skin your brother did and you’re sure that he thinks you’re weak for it.

Your yearning for your brother to care for you devolved into something else. That brotherly love was replaced with something else and it’s made your life harder. It makes his harshness hurt more than it used to. All you want is for him to tell you that you did good or that he cares about you in some way.

You have to make up for the lack of love somehow.

Clad in only your brother’s shirt, just slightly larger than what you wear, you immerse yourself in the ways you wish your brother treated you. Maybe him fucking you isn’t exactly how you should be imagining your brother, but it’s what you’re doing. The scent of your brother surrounding you as you stroke yourself and thrust two fingers inside yourself is more than enough to make up for your lack of love. At least, for now it is.

“N-nii-san... Please, Nii-san...”

Your whimpers and whines are muffled, as quiet as they can be. You want to cry out and be as loud as your heart desires, but your mom and brother are downstairs. There’s no way you can disturb them. There’s no way you can let them see you like this.

“What do you want Nii-san to do, hm?”

For a moment, you think the gravelly voice of your older brother is just in your head. It’s the click of the lock on your bedroom door that makes you realize it definitely isn’t just your imagination.

Bakugou leans against the wall. He stares down at you with his arms crossed, expression unreadable. Is he disgusted? Does he want to hit you? Will he ridicule you? You have no idea what he’s going to do.

What you don’t expect is for him to begin stripping. The moment he tosses his shirt at you, there’s a second where you stop functioning. Your brother doesn’t care. He continues to strip in front of you. Each article of clothing tossed somewhere in your room. The blond ends up leaning over you, tugging at his shirt. Even if it’s baggy on you, it doesn’t cover the erection you’re trying to hide from him.

A predator-like grin is on his face as he looks down at you. It’s like he’s waiting for you to say something. Wait- he is.

“I... I want Nii-san to...” Now that he’s here in front of you, you can’t seem to get your words out. He slides his hand under your shirt and goes straight for your chest. A sharp pinch to your nipple is a warning to tell him. “Please fuck me, Nii-san...”

His grin only grows wider. The hand that was teasing your chest goes straight to your cock, pumping it a few times. Bakugou watches how you tense and buck into his hand as he does so. You’re so sensitive, so eager.

“I know that’s not all you want. I know what you’ve been doing, I’m not an idiot. You steal my clothes and I hear you moaning my name when I pass by your room... Tell me everything you want your dear Nii-san to do.”

The rumble in his voice goes straight to your dick. You whimper and grab his wrist. He has to stop before you cum. You don’t want to cum so soon.

But you can’t answer him. You’re already doing your best to keep yourself quiet, the hand not holding onto your brother’s hand over your mouth to muffle any noise. The blond pulls your hand away and stills his own. The way he stares at you make you wonder if he wants this just as much as you do.

“My... I want Nii-san to suck my...”

“You’re way more shy than I thought you’d be.” As soon as you say it, he’s sliding down between your legs. Pinching your thighs and grinning up at you, Bakugou gives a kiss to the shaft of your cock. “I’ve been holding back all this time. I wondered if this was just a phase but it seems like you really want me, huh?”

“Yes...” The way you answer him so eagerly makes his own cock twitch in anticipation. “I always feel like you hate me...”

“Hate you? What kinda idiot- hey, I don’t hate you. Let me make up for all of that.” Those are his last words before he licks a stripe up your cock and takes it into his mouth. It’s hot and feels better than you could ever imagine. You hold your hand to your mouth, the other tangling into your brother’s hair. Keeping yourself from bucking into his face is nearly impossible. You’re lucky that Bakugou has your hips pinned to the bed.

He’s got your whole dick in his mouth like it’s some sort of candy. His tongue wrapping around the head and the groans vibrating against it- wait, is he enjoying this? Another groan when he takes it all down and it hits the back of his throat confirms it. That combination of knowing he wants to do this to do is what helps you over the edge.

You push his head down as much as you can and cum in his mouth. Bakugou swallows it all before pulling up, wiping the sweat off his brow. That grin returns and he laughs, “What next?”

What he doesn’t expect is for you to spread your ass open for him. He stares at your hole; it’s already prepared, twitching in anticipation. There’s a moment of pause before he dives in, lapping at it. His tongue slips in far easier than he thought it would, but he doesn’t take it for granted. Bakugou is happy to eat your ass. He can taste something. So you use flavored lube. It’s a light taste of caramel, probably because of the smell his quirk gives his sweat. He doesn’t mind it at all. In fact, you using something specifically because it reminds you of him only turns him on more.

Small, muffled whimpers come from you as he eats you out. After cumming, you’re sensitive, far too much to be touched in such a delicate place. But your big brother doesn’t give a damn. He eats you out like a man starved, hiking your legs over his shoulders to give him better access. All you can manage to do is squirm and whimper.

Bakugou keeps it up into you’re hard again. The second your cock begins to come to life again, he pulls his head back and lips his licks.

“Caramel flavored, huh?” He chuckles when you look away. “You really want me, Y/N. Want your Nii-san so bad that you need to have lube that smells like him. I wouldn’t be surprised if you had a dildo around here.”

The way your gaze snaps back to him makes him laugh. Red eyes take in your flushed, embarrassed face, the way you squirm and whimper because of him.

“Nii-san, please...” You’ve moved your hand away from your mouth. “I need your cock... Please...”

Once again, that predatory grin appears. He keeps your legs on his shoulders, practically bending you in two. His cock, hot and heavy, slides against your ass. Your breath catches in your throat when you realize how big it actually is. It’s no surprise that it matches his proportions, but it’s just more than you expected.

“Be good for your Nii-san and let me fuck you good.”

That’s all he says before he sinks his cock deep inside you. His lips slam against yours to muffle your cries as you adjust to his size. He stretches you out more than your fingers ever could. It’s uncomfortable as he bottoms out. But he’s kind to you and waits for you to adjust, absorbing your whimpers. They’re delicious and he can’t get enough of them.

When your whimpers turn into small moans, he begins. The first few thrusts are soft, gentle. Bakugou is working you up. He knows how big he is and he doesn’t want to make this horrible for you. He pulls away from your lips and rests his forehead against yours.

“You’re so tight. This ass is all for me, isn’t it? Been dreaming of having your ass wrecked by your big, strong Nii-san. Must feel good.” He cups your face and wipes the stray tears. “Do you feel good? You feel so good for your Nii-san.”

“Nii-san feels good... Feels really good...” You let out a moan and immediately shut your mouth after. The two of you stop to make sure Mitsuki didn’t hear before Bakugou shoves his fingers in your mouth. They muffle your moans just enough. With that, the pace gets harder and more intense. The blond watches your eyes roll back into your skull when he hits you just right. His cock hits your prostate in the best way and he loves the way you get tighter when he does.

You cumming so quickly is what he expects. The overstimulation, even after one orgasm, is just too much for you to bear. You bite down on his fingers as you do, ass tightening to an almost painful grip around him. But he’s not done. Even after he forces you to ride your climax so intensely, he keeps going.

“We’re not done yet. Nii-san’s gonna make you feel real good tonight. I’ll make up for all the times you felt like I hated you. And,” he laughs as his gaze goes down to the black shirt you’re wearing, “I’ll let you keep this shirt since you love it so much.”

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha x male reader #bnha x reader smut #smut

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