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yanderenightmare · 2 months

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TW: nsfw, dubcon, coercion, bullying

fem reader

Your bully says he’s always been curious about what it’s like to fuck a geeky good girl like you—and that he’ll leave you if you let him have a taste.

You knew he was probably mostly joking when he offered… but you were sick and tired and perhaps a little desperate for the chance of him finally leaving you alone—so you balled your fists within his shirt, dragged him inside an empty classroom, and told him he could do whatever he wanted.

You don’t know who was more surprised.

He never knew you to be so brazen—but it’s not like you’re some blushing virgin, either.

You have experience. However, most of that experience is with nicer guys… not someone like him…

It’s not like you expected him to go easy on you, but still…

You bruise against the desk he has you bent over on—dewy-faced and panting, lying cheek-down in your own drool as he fucks full-chested moans right out of you. He snickers when your thighs shake, whistling with a grin when feeling your tight cunt flutter around him—slick dripping to the floor in a little puddle.

“You’re so wet it’s embarrassing.” He laughs.

He’s got your arms tussled behind your back, using your shirt as bindings—having balled your skirt up around your waist in two tight fists, knuckles white while using it to keep you still as he pounds into you with a mean snap of his hips.

Your heart drops when you hear a rip. A second time when, you feel his movements still, and a thick warmth starts to fill you.

“Ah—fuck—don’t squeeze so tight—I’m ‘bout to—” He grunts, but it’s already too late once he pulls out.

Panting heavily as his cock drips with the last drop—hunched over—his eyes fall to your glossy cunt, half-mast while staring at the way his cum slowly leaks out of the still-fluttering little hole.

He feels a cute-aggressive urge to slap it but doesn’t want to get his hand all sticky.

He pulls his pants up instead, only bothering to button his shirt up halfway, tie hanging loosely around his neck. Anyone with eyes could guess what he’d been doing with his sweaty hair and that flushed look on his face.

And yet he starts leaving without a care or a word.

Already halfway out the door before you get your wits back.

“No—wait!” You warble, unknotting your sleeves to wrap your shirt around you. “You can’t leave me like this—my skirt…” You hold the tattered piece up for him to see, showing him the tear he’d made, rendering it unwearable.

His hand is still on the doorknob, only bothering to acknowledge you with a jaded look over his shoulder. “How’s that my problem?”

Your brows cinch that pitiful way it always does. That cute way that has his gut bubble and fizz. “Please…” You plead, and it’s almost enough to make his cock perk up again. “Just bring me a skirt from lost and found… please?”

He sighs—the door at his back as he leans against it with arms folded upon his chest. “Tch—and what's in it for me?”

You nibble your lip in thought—but you already know the answer.

“I’ll be better at it next time—just... please?”

“Hm…” He hums in thought, a small smirk playing at the corner of his lips, tugged as if your words had pulled it with string. “Wait here, I’ll be back.”

The door closed with a click, and you were left in the classroom alone.

A few minutes passed. You doubted his return.

You could always call a friend… but you didn’t want to get anyone into any trouble—calling them when they’re in class. Also, how would you even explain it to them? What type of person skips class to have sex in an empty classroom? Not to mention, they’d ask who you’d done it with—and there was just no way you could tell them. It’d be too embarrassing—you might just die—and if anyone else ever found out, he’d more likely kill you himself.

Well… suppose you could always make the run to Lost and Found yourself. The hallways should be mostly empty at this hour, but there’s really no guarantee.

In the end, the thought of someone catching you in cum-soaked panties makes you hold onto all hope that your bully would return as he’d said.

And fifteen minutes later, he does. Black school skirt in one hand and strawberry milk in the other. Seemed he’d taken the time to stop at a vending machine.

But you don’t care. Breathing out a sigh of relief—gratitude on your lips as you leap over to him. “Thank you—”

You eagerly accept the skirt—putting it on just as quickly.

He leans back against the door again, sipping his carton while watching you fall still with dismay. Humored at the pout that takes your lips as you look up at him with those pitiful doe-eyes.

“This is too short…”

He hides his smile with a tilt of his head. “Oh?” He grabs his jaw and pretends to assess your bottom half with focus. “Hmm… turn around, lemme see.”

You listen trustingly—as though you actually believe he cares. It almost makes him laugh out loud at how fucking gullible you are. But he keeps his act tight. Humming at the sight of the skirt only barely covering the crease of your cute ass.

“You’re right—something’s off.” He admits.

You look back at him just in time to see his smirk before he grabs you.

Keeping you still with an arm wrapped around your waist, he tips you over and grabs your panties—pulling them despite your body's protests as you wiggle in his hold. You cry as the fabric wedges up between your asscheeks, kicking your legs behind you until feeling it rip.

“There you go…” He coos while letting go of you, twirling the torn string in his hand. “Now it fits perfectly.”

He chuckles at the pretty tears clumped upon your lashes as you look at him with your lip tucked between your teeth until you finally get the grit to say what’s on the tip of your tongue.

“You’re an asshole.”

He sneers with a smile and bags your panties in his pocket—then turns around and opens the door. Leaving you worse off than before.

“Never said otherwise, buttercup.”

BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi, Shigaraki, Hawks, Shinso, Kirishima

JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Gojo, Toji

DS – Akaza, Sanemi

HQ – Kuro, Miya twins

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bunnylovesani · 5 months

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A Birthday Affair

Summary: It's your birthday and your best friend is making you a cake! Too bad she's left you home alone with her boyfriend, Anakin. She should've known you two had a thing for each other, right?

Content warnings: cheating, p in v sex, creampie, daddy kink

WC: 2.6k

“Alright guys, there’s only one shop that sells the buttercream we need and it’s way at the other end of town.” Padme shouts tiredly, grabbing her coat by the door. “Could’ve sworn I’d already picked some up…but anything for the birthday girl. I might be a while so make sure you keep an eye on the cake in the oven!”

“We’re not that incompetent, Padme.” Anakin rolls his eyes.

“Of course, we got it!” You answer as she leaves and turn to face Anakin. “You should really be nicer to her.”

“I’m plenty nice.” He responds. “And you’re the birthday girl, it’s you I need to be nice to.”

“But she’s your girlfriend. You’re obligated to be nice to her all year round.” You put the empty batter bowl into the sink as Anakin stares at you across the kitchen, leaning against the countertops.

“I’m about as nice to her as she is to me.” He murmurs and you look back in confusion. Were they having issues you didn’t know about?

“That couldn’t be further from the truth, Padme is the perfect girlfriend and you-“ You paused, looking at him up and down with a light scowl. “-well you’re you.”

“Ah, so you think I’m not good enough for her? How cliche.” He gives you a look of displeasure. “And what is it that makes me so unworthy of her company?”

“You’re not bad per se, you’re just…” You sigh, struggling to put your thoughts into words. “Look at it this way- Padme is one of those rare people. She manages to balance being successful and beautiful with somehow being humble and kind- I know for a fact she wakes up every morning to make you breakfast- and she does things like drive all over the city looking for a specific frosting for her best friend. That’s just the kind of person she is.” You ramble on, walking around the kitchen as Anakin stares at you in fascination.

“And then there’s you, who’s forgotten every anniversary and has been fired from every job because of his inability to control his temper. You see what I’m getting at?”

Anakin furrows his thick brows as he processes what you’re saying and you think he might get mad at you for a second but to your relief, he cracks a bright smile.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m just as much of a mess as you are. Just as unworthy.“ You laugh and a puzzling smirk crosses his face.

“So you’re saying I should be with someone better suited for me?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“Someone like…you?” He raises an eyebrow.

You chuckle nervously and take a step back, suddenly aware of how close he’d gotten.

“Obviously not. I-I didn’t mean to make it sound like that.” Stuttering, you try to move away from him but he doesn’t budge, tall figure towering over you. That stupid smirk he has plastered over his face increases your heart rate tenfold.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? Have I got you flustered?” He sneers.

“Stop playing around.” You push him away by his chest and escape to the sofa, slumping down it with a huff.

“Padme told me about the little crush you had on me.” He stands behind you and you refuse to face him, consumed with embarrassment.

“Crush is too strong of a word for what that was.” You feel your cheeks burning up at the memory; when you first met Anakin at that bar last Christmas, you’ll admit you initially wanted him all to yourself. But what were you supposed to do when Padme got to him first? You can’t believe she told him.

“So you don’t find me attractive anymore?” He asks in that provocative tone of his.

“The outer shell is fine but the inside could do with a little work.” You feign confidence, avoiding the question. To be truthful, you found him incredibly attractive. So much so that you actively avoided him because you felt yourself folding under pressure anytime he was near.

“Can I let you in on a little secret?” He asked quietly, taking a seat on the footstool across the sofa.

“No, but I sense you’re going to anyway.” You brace yourself.

“That night I saw you and Padme playing pool at the bar.” He begins. “I wanted to approach you, not her.”

Your breath hitches in your throat.

“But she came up to me first and when I asked her who her friend was, she told me you weren’t interested…in men.” Your mouth widens as his words linger in the air.

“I-I don’t know what to say.” You stutter, feeling a small sense of betrayal run through you. “I don’t know why she’d do that.”

“Because she knew she wouldn’t stand a chance otherwise.” He gets up to sit next to you and you tense up at his knee lightly brushing past yours.

“I thought you were a lesbian for half the time I’ve known you- until you started dating that loser a few months ago and Padme had to come clean. She thought I’d find it funny.” He curls his lip in disgust.

“And did you?”

“No.” He responds, steely eyes staring right through you. “I’m still mad about it.”

“Anakin…” You cautiously murmur, sensing the direction this could so easily take.

“I’m just saying, remember that next time you want to rant about how great she is. If it wasn’t for her deceit, it could’ve been us together.” He rests his hand on your leg but you swiftly brush it off.

“But it’s not. And it never will be. You’ll always either be her boyfriend or her ex. Either way, you’re off limits.” You try to assert some boundaries before your self-control completely slips away from you.

“And if it weren’t for these limits?” He reaches his hand up, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Oh God, the cake! Must go and check on the cake.” You get up, trying to escape his grasp but he pushes you back down.

“I said what if it weren’t for those limits?” He repeats sternly and you can’t help but fixate on his rosy pink lips. You’d always wondered how they’d feel pressed up against yours.

“In another galaxy where you’d never met her-“ You sigh, walls crumbling down. “then I’d be yours.”

“Is that what you want?” His husky voice mutters, barely above a whisper.

“It doesn’t matter because this isn’t another galaxy. This is reality.” You shuffle back a little in an attempt to impose some distance between you.

“Fuck reality. I want you.” He pulls you in and you’re hit with a wave of warmth radiating off his firm body.

“Anakin, no. Padme is my best friend! I’m not a homewrecker.” You cry out, unsure whether you’re trying to convince him or yourself.

“You can’t wreck something that’s already fallen apart. I don’t care about her— I don’t care about any of it anymore. For God’s sake, I even hid the damn buttercream because I wanted her to leave us alone for a while.” Your mouth gapes open at his revelation.

“I knew it!” You point your finger at him but he grabs you by the wrist and pulls you onto him, faces barely an inch apart.

“I need you. In every way possible.” His voice is so breathy it makes you squeeze your thighs together.

“Ugh, Ani I-“

“Do you want me as much as I want you? Please, put me out of my misery.” He whines and you bite your lip over the beautiful desperation in his words.

“Of course I want you, I’ve always wanted you.” The words barely leave your mouth before he grabs your face with both hands and kisses you sloppily, grip on your jaw a little too strong. He has you gasping for air, stubbornly holding onto you like it was the last kiss he’d ever have.

“Don’t you worry about her, I’ll take care of everything.” He rubs your cheek with his thumb comfortingly and you feel all your worries melt away; he was here, he would fix it all.

“I’ve thought about this for so long.” You cry, pawing at him. The sense of elation you felt at finally being able to touch him, inhale him, taste him- after an eternity of forcing every feeling down. You did it all out of respect for Padme, out of respect for Ani who chose her- but now that you’d learned the truth, restraint flew out the window. He should’ve been yours- he is yours.

“Lie down for me sweetheart, I wanna see my pretty girl.” He pushes you down onto the sofa and inches your skirt down, admiring your pretty pink panties. “You wear these just for me?” You nod frantically- it’s true, you wore everything for him. Your best underwear, your prettiest lipstick, your shortest little skirts, it was all for him. He pushes your top up slowly, messy kisses being planted all over your tummy until he reaches your perky tits.

“Is there a reason you’re not wearing a bra, young lady?” He scolds you playfully.

“Mhm, it’s fun watching you fight the urge to stare at the way they bounce and jiggle.”

“You noticed that, huh?” You giggle at his honesty as he rips your top off, laughter instantly replaced with breathy moans as he squeezes your boobs harshly, taking turns sucking on the nipples.

“Best pair of tits I’ve seen in my life.” He mutters into your chest as he continues to kiss and lick all over, making you writhe underneath him.

“Ani, please.” You buck your hips up towards him, desperately needing more. “Hurry, we don’t know when she’ll be home.”

“Then it’s a good thing the door bolts shut from the inside.” He grins, hands trailing down between your thighs.

“Ani, no! We can’t lock her out, what would she think?”

“I don’t care, all I know is if I don’t get enough of this sweet pussy, I’m gonna lose my mind.” He groans as he hooks his arms under your legs and pulls you down, pulling your panties to the side. You bashfully cover your face with your hands as he rubs your clit with his thumb and when you peek through your fingers, you see him biting his lip and curving his eyebrows into a pitiful swoop. Just as you think it can’t get better, he lowers his boxers and frees his cock, heavy length slapping against his stomach. Not wanting to inflate his already engorged ego, you try not to look shocked- but he sees right through you.

“You tryin’ to make me feel bad, sweetie? No problem, I’ll have you squealing in a minute anyway.” He confidently asserts and you feel him rubbing his tip along your soaking folds; the anticipation alone is enough to make you throw your head back.

With one sudden thrust, he pushes himself into your tight pussy and you sink your teeth into the pillow beside you to conceal some of the noise. Reaching forward and grabbing it from you, he tosses it aside and grabs you by the jaw.

“I want to hear every little sound you make. Raw and unmuted.” He growls.

“B-but someone might hear-“

“I don’t give a fuck.” He asserts aggressively. “Let them hear. They might as well start getting used to it now.” You moan at his depraved words, drool forming around your lips.

“If you want something in your mouth that bad, here.” He offers you his fingers- which you accept gratefully, sucking and biting on them to your heart’s content. Just as you’ve adjusted, he slides the rest of his cock in- filling you so deeply you question how it’s even possible. The mewling that proceeds boosts Anakin’s ego more than is healthy; you pant and whine so fervently that you look like you’re on the verge of passing out. Your pupils are dilated, your hair messed up, your thighs dampened with arousal and sweat.

“Ani, mm fuck- fill me up, please!” You dig your fingernails into his back as he lowers himself to kiss your wet lips, silencing your sobs and pleading if only for a moment.

“You want my cum, sweetheart? You wanna be daddy’s cum slut, hm? Let me hear you say it.” His strokes get deeper and sloppier as he hurtles his way to his release.

“Yes daddy, yes! I wanna be your cum slut so bad, it’s the only thing I want.” You ramble, words barely audible over the loud sounds of smacking and squelching.

“I could never say no to you.” He whispers, head tucked into the crook of your neck planting open-mouth kisses.

“I need it, need it noww.” You whine, tits bouncing into circles as he roughly pounds into you, strong hand maintaining a firm grip on your hip as he rams himself into you one last time: cum spilling from his tender cock and filling you up to the brim. Pulling out, the sensation of his cum dribbling out of you doubled with his thumb circling your clit sends you over the edge, orgasm washing over you like a tsunami. He rests his head on your chest as you both catch your breath, running your fingers through his hair.

“I’m gonna leave her.” He softly speaks. “I’m leaving and I’m telling her about us.”

Your heart seizes in both panic and excitement. There’s an us?

The familiar thud of footsteps in the hallway has you both scrambling to get dressed- you pull your top down and your skirt back on but can’t find your frilly panties anywhere. Anakin just about finishes zipping up his jeans when Padme walks in to the sight of her very flustered-looking best friend and boyfriend, sitting oddly far apart in unnatural positions on the couch.

“Hey guys, I had to check several different stores but I finally found the right buttercream, what have you- wait, do I smell something burning?”

Fuck, you forgot the cake.

Running over to the oven, she scrambles to pull out the smoking tray. Despair takes over her face when she sees the round crust, black as cinder.

“How did you forget?! What were you doing?” She yells, throwing the ashes straight into the bin and frowning at you.

“Nothing, Padme. We just got carried away chatting is all. ‘m really sorry.” You walk over to join her in the kitchen but start to feel Ani’s seed leaking out of your stretched-out hole and dribbling down your thighs. Noticing the glistening sticky wetness, Anakin rushes over in front of you to distract Padme.

“It was my fault, I said I’d keep track of time and I didn’t.” He explains, subtly tossing a kitchen towel your way.

“Classic Anakin, honestly a monkey would have better time management.” She hisses, barging past him and opening windows to let the smoke out. “No wonder you can’t keep a job.” He takes a shaky breath and you can see how hard he’s trying to restrain himself.

“Not now.” You think, giving him a knowing glare and he nods reluctantly. Padme stomps over to the bathroom and you quickly wipe the cummy mess off your thighs, giggling a little at the excitement of sneaking around. Anakin rushes over and gives you a feverish kiss, whispering in your ear “She goes to bed early, you know.”

Maybe you wouldn’t tell her just yet.

@crazy4hotmen @erinkeifer @mortalheartache @arzua10

Part 2 here

#hayden christensen #star wars fanfiction #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker smut #anakin x reader #anakin fanfiction #anakin x you #star wars smut #sam monroe #hayden christensen x reader #anakin skywalker #star wars prequels #darth vader #padme amidala #sw prequels

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meowmeowmeowmeow4x · 2 months

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Supersons +1 prompt answer

If you asked Danny, 12 year old half-ghost hero of Amity Park, how half-life was going, he'd tell you things were mixed.

On the one hand, he had just spent the last three or four months in family/scientist/'this house is a death trap waiting to happen' therapy with Jazz, and by some miracle, it worked. He wasn't sure if this was some kind of dream as his parents poured over years upon years of research, crossing out lines, rewriting equations, and reevaulating everything they thought they knew about ghosts.

Was the shudders family therapy worth not going over how they'd like to dissect him? he's still not sure. The horror.

Not to mention the attention. Danny was sure he was going to throw up if his parents drag him away for more bonding time, only for a ghost to attack and for him to run off to transform. What made it worse was when the Fentons came barrelling out, guns blazing, alternating between getting mad that he'd interrupted their family time, and asking him questions about "Your suspicious spook culture, if you even have one you dangerous delusional delinquent!"

At least they were trying, but Danny was very much comfortable not spilling the beans on the whole half-ghost situation, thank you very much.

And that's why, when Dad proposed to take him to Gotham to show off their latest invention, he jumped at the chance. The home city of the Batman, one of the greatest heroes known to man (except for Martian Manhunter and Superman of course) and Dad promised to take him to Gotham Observatory too. Not to mention how much he wanted to get away from Jazz's smug looks of superiority. Gotham here he comes!

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

Damian Wayne scowled as he scanned the crowed of scientists with more smarts than sense. Really, a flying toilet seat. For what deviant?

"Maybe they're for people who can fly." Kent piped up beside him. Father had let the two of them run off together, and his company was mildly more appealing than being alone with his thoughts.

"Why would Superman ever need to relieve himself mid-air. I do not believe you would appreciate your father's rear end being on display for all the world to see."

"True." Jon hummed. His voice lowered to a whisper. "You think indecent exposure is what your dad meant by "scoping out any potential future villains?"

Damian gave Jon a flat look. The sooner this convention ended, the better.

The crowded shifted, and the mass of visitors pushed toward a certain corner, where a man large enough to rival Superman's build stood upon a podium, with a boy their age off to the side.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce to you the latest in FentonWorks' innovations, the Fenton Ghost Zone Radar, soon to revolutionise the study of ghosts!"

"I thought ghosts were a magic thing." Jon said. "You know, stuff Constantine and JLD deal with."

"They are."

"Mixing magic and science is like, like, oil and water. No way this guy's serious, is he?"

"His name is Jack Fenton. That's Daniel Fenton, his son." Damian pointed to the boy in question, looking like he'd seen this scene a hundred times before, but with that knowing glint that promised something deeper. "They're normally spotted alongside Jack's wife, Madeline. Widely regarded as quacks by the larger scientific community for chasing paper-thin theories about ghosts, they've nonetheless gained funding from the government. This is the first time they've left their base of operations in Amity Park for years."

"Woah, you know your stuff, Dami!"

Damian glared at the young Superboy in disguise. "I read the briefing files. Didn't you?"

Kent looked uncomfortable and looked away. "Uhh, maybe?"

"Typical."

"Well, if he's so crazy, then why'd your dad even let him in." Upon another scathing glare, Kent relented. "Oh right, the whole supervillain thing."

"Enough chatter. We'll zero in on the younger Fenton. I intend to squeeze him like a grape, and make Father proud."

"Dami maybe you should be a little nicer-" Only for Damian to march off without him.

Honestly, inane niceties were above someone of his status. Those things were Superboy's job, and if Daniel Fenton wouldn't crack, then Damian was itching to try a new torture technique.

@impyssadobsessions

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promptfairy · 5 months

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❥ 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐃𝐎𝐌 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 𝟑𝟓𝟖/𝟐 𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒 ( 𝟏.𝟓 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐗 ) ( 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟑 ) [ 𝚂𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙴𝙽𝙲𝙴 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚂 ] .

change gendered language & add context to your needs . happy roleplaying !! ♡

“ are you really sure that you don’t have a heart ?? ” “ i can give you purpose . ” “ man , i miss the old times . ” “ bet you don’t know why the sun sets red . ” “ like i asked , know - it - all . ” “ you worried about the new kid ?? ” “ you said the same exact thing the other day . ” “ i don’t even know what a heart is . ” “ i have to keep fighting the darkness . so i can be whole . ” “ c’mon , let’s get some ice cream . ” “ i’m gonna be away for a while , starting tomorrow . ” “ i wish somebody told me these things . ” “ find them , & dispose of them . ” “ this place is so much nicer without the loudmouths . ” “ you earned the icing on the cake . ” “ this is such a great spot . . . how’d you find it ?? ” “ we’re not even supposed to ‘ be ’ in the first place . ” “ he looks a lot like you . ” “ my name is of no importance . ” “ i hope that you can join me next time . ” “ what’s the matter ?? you look like you’ve seen a ghost . ” “ you had me worried . ” “ i guess i just needed a little time to sort out my feelings , you know ?? ” “ what , not even one little word of appreciation ?? ” “ good to see you made it back safe . ” “ i moved things along just the way you wanted . ” “ he must’ve rubbed off on me . ” “ friends need to lean on each other every now & then . ” “ just eat your ice cream . ” “ best friends are different from plain friends , right ?? ” “ let us remember why we are here & what we hope to achieve . ” “ all this fighting . . . i wonder what it’s for . ” “ i just don’t see why having a heart is that important . ” “ i think i’ve always been pretty much the same . ” “ i wonder what kind of guy i was before . . . ” “ i thought you said you were tough . ” “ buy me one & we’ll call it even . ” “ i hope we can always be just like this forever . ” “ well . . . nothing lasts forever , you know ?? ” “ wow , that was so not you . ” “ ever heard of knocking ?? what do you want ?? ” “ i can handle all the dirty work . ” “ i knew you’d be here . ” “ i hope we get another vacation soon . ” “ i’m not going to tell you all my dark secrets . ” “ you’re letting yourself get too attached . ” “ you know . . . you’ve changed . ” “ just give me another chance . ”

“ you were a mistake i never should have made . ” “ is there anything you couldn’t bear to lose ?? ” “ it’s scary to think of what it would be like without you . ” “ you can’t fight fire with sparks . ” “ find a new crowd . trust me , those guys are bad news . ” “ sorry . . . my mind’s on other things . ” “ do you ever think about why we’re doing all of this ?? ” “ just be straight with me for once , will you ?? ” “ did you bring me these seashells ?? ” “ keep your mouth shut . ” “ does the past mean nothing to you ?? ” “ don’t scare me like that anymore . ” “ maybe you’re not completely well yet . ” “ it almost sounds as though you know . ” “ who am i ?? what am i here for ?? ” “ you made me a promise . ” “ i’m sorry . . . i’m not sure i’ve kept my promise very well . ” “ am i not supposed to exist ?? ” “ what would it take for me to be like you ?? ” “ to be honest , i’m not even sure today really happened . ” “ since when do you ever worry about me ?? ” “ it’s just not the same without all three of us . ” “ i’m nothing more than a puppet . ” “ do you hate me for taking your friend away from you ?? ” “ how will i know where i belong , truly ?? ” “ the answer you come up with can’t just be right for you . ” “ well , we’ve had our share of drama lately . ” “ i know we’ve seen a lot of sunsets , but today’s puts them all to shame . ” “ if we ran , i bet we could always be together . ” “ i think you know what needs to be done . ” “ stop pretending . ” “ why is it that you always have to glare at me like that ?? ” “ i’m asking you why you did that , & you know it . ” “ you’re not making any sense . ” “ if only the whispers at the top carried to the bottom . ” “ can you at least try not to harm her ?? ” “ could it be that you’ve known this whole time & not told me anything ?? ” “ i’ve been searching for a way to conquer the darkness within me . ” “ you don’t have to worry about me . ” “ best friends are supposed to be honest with each other !! ” “ finding out the truth doesn’t always work out for the best . ” “ if i can’t get answers here , i’ll get them somewhere else . ” “ no one would miss me . ” “ everybody thinks they’re right . . . ” “ you think you can do whatever you want . . . well , i’m sick of it . ” “ i’ll always be there to bring you back . ” “ why you gotta cause me so much trouble . . . ?? ” “ am i the one who did this to you ?? ” “ why are you trying to stop me ?? ” “ i can’t let you go do anything crazy . ”

#sentence starters #sentence meme #rp starters #rp prompts #rp meme #roleplay prompts #roleplay starters #roleplay meme

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bingwriterxo · 11 months

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a child?!

pairing: wednesday addams x werewolf!reader

summary: in which something strange happens to you

warnings: none

word count: 1400+

author's note: this was a request! also, i do not know how chlidren work!

Wednesday was sitting at her desk, fingers flying across the keys of her typewriter as she detailed the most recent mystery that Viper had to solve, when Enid burst through the door, loud and obtrusive as always. The raven-haired girl had half a mind to ignore her roommate, and she succeeded in doing so for what seemed to be the longest minute in eternity, until she ultimately had to turn in her chair and glare at the blonde for the ruckus she was making.

"Why must you be so loud?" Wednesday deadpanned.

Enid squeaked and whirled around, hiding something behind her back. "We--Wednesday!" she exclaimed in a pitch much too high for Wednesday to appreciate. "I didn't even realize you were here!"

Wednesday furrowed her eyebrows, watching her roommate closely. "You're acting strange. Granted, you are strange, but today you are even stranger." I didn't even think that was possible, she thought. She would have said it out loud, but she had begrudgingly promised you that she would try to be nicer to people, even if it made her want to claw her own tongue out.

"What?" Enid asked, shifting where she stood like the floor was littered with hot coals. "I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Your hair is mussed"--Enid reached up, patted down her hair--"your uniform has become undone"--Enid glanced down, noticing that her tie was untucked from beneath her vest--"and there is...snot...on your shoulder." Wednesday narrowed her eyes at the blonde. "What is going on?"

Enid sighed in defeat and hung her head, letting her shoulders slump as she looked at the floor, revealing the unicorn plush that she had come to the dorm for in the first place. "You should probably come with me."

* * *

"Why are we at Xavier's shed?"

Enid didn't answer. Instead, she moved to stand in front of Wednesday before the raven-haired girl could push the door open. "Now, when you see what's inside, you can't kill us, okay?"

"Us?"

"Yes." Enid nodded, her face more serious than Wednesday had ever seen it. "Us."

Wednesday contemplated this for a moment. She wasn't one to make agreements when she didn't what the other half of the bargain entailed, but Enid's stoic look was starting to make her uncomfortable (and not in a good way) so she nodded.

"Fine," she said.

With a hefty sigh, Enid turned around and pushed the door open. Wednesday followed close behind, her eyes flitting around the room as she looked for who 'us' was. It wasn't hard to find them: Xavier, Yoko, and Ajax all stood in the middle of the shed, their backs to the pair and their attention on something that Wednesday couldn't see.

"What is this, some sort of odd club?" Wednesday asked, and everyone spun around on their heels. She scanned her friends' (in loose terms) faces, and it wasn't difficult to see the guilt and worry coating each of their expressions, or feel the anxiety radiating off of them.

Xavier's lips were pulled into a frown, and his eyes were glazed, staring behind Wednesday rather than at her. Yoko was playing with her fingers, and her head was tilted upwards, lips pursed like she was about to start whistling at any moment. Ajax waved shyly and then scratched at the back of his neck, eyes on anything except Wednesday.

"Do I have to repeat myself?" Wednesday hissed. "What is happening?"

All three of them started to speak at the same time.

"Well--"

"There was--"

"So, something happened--"

They were cut off by a small babble, and then, between Yoko and Ajax's legs, a child appeared, running full force at Enid. Enid crouched down and took the child in her arms, standing as she handed her the plush.

Everyone's eyes landed on Wednesday while her own were trained on the child cuddling Enid's stuffed unicorn, and when she also glanced toward the raven-haired girl, everything clicked.

"Is that my girlfriend?" Wednesday seethed through gritted teeth.

Enid shrank in on herself at the question and looked down at you before glancing back at her roommate. "...Yes?" she answered sheepishly.

Wednesday wished that she didn't take verbal agreements as seriously as she did because she had never wanted to kill her roommate and her friends more than in that moment. She clenched her jaw as she stared at you, who stared right back at her with wide eyes and a childish grin, and then held her arms out.

She could hear Yoko gasp, and Ajax made some sort of noise, and Enid took a step back. "Are you going to hurt her?"

"Why would I hurt Y/N?" Wednesday asked. "I was going to hold her."

Enid blinked at her. Xavier spoke up. "Do you even know how to hold a kid?" he asked, but you were reaching out to Wednesday, leaning forward so far that Enid had to oblige the raven-haired girl or risk you falling onto your face.

Wednesday took you into her arms easily, resting you against her hip. You were watching her, the unicorn clutched in one hand and your other playing with the end of one of her braids.

"Pretty," you mumbled.

She wasn't paying any attention to you, turning her sights back on the three idiots--well, four now, as Enid had joined them in the center of the room--and narrowing her eyes. "And why is my girlfriend"--she glanced down at you, then looked back up--"currently three years old?"

You tugged on the braid, and Wednesday was only half-surprised by the amount of strength you had. As a werewolf, it made sense that you would be stronger than the average child, but she hadn't expected it to sting.

She looked down to see you frowning up at her. "What?"

"Pay 'tention," you demanded with a pout.

"No." She looked back at her friends. "Answer me."

Ajax, Yoko, and Xavier all glanced at Enid, and the blonde stepped forward. "Well..." She inhaled deeply and all of her words tumbled out. "Y/N and I were trying to make a serum to suppress our heats, and we must have forgotten an ingredient or something, but we thought we did it correctly, so Y/N tried it and then...shrunk." She gestured lamely at you. "Or, well, turned into a kid."

You tugged on Wednesday's hair again. "Pay 'tention!" you repeated loudly.

"Uh, Wednesday," Ajax began, "I think she wants you to pay attention to her."

Wednesday glared at the boy. She looked at you. "What do you want?"

Instead of answering, you giggled and threw your arms out. "Pretty!" The unicorn fell to the floor, and you glanced down, whimpering. "Unicorn," you cried as though it were your best friend falling off the edge of a cliff.

"Don't cry," Wednesday said. She knelt down, grabbed the stuffed animal, and gave it back to you. You cooed happily, nuzzling into it. She looked at her friends again, all of whom wore strange grins. "What?"

"That was so cute, Wednesday!" Enid exclaimed. "I didn't know you could be cute!"

Wednesday's eyes narrowed. "Call me cute again, Enid, and you won't have a voice box to call anything cute."

The blonde didn't seem to take the threat to heart as she continued to smile. "I have to get a picture of this!"

"I will kill you."

"And that's a risk I think I'm willing to take!" Enid pulled her phone out of her pocket and snapped a quick photo. She glanced over the top of the phone. "She's sleeping!" She took another picture.

Wednesday frowned and looked down. You were, in fact, asleep against her, your head pressed beneath her chin and soft breaths slipping from your mouth. You seemed at peace there, and, for a quick moment that she would never admit occurred, Wednesday didn't quite mind the fact that all of her friends were watching her. But then her senses returned to her and she looked at the four.

"You better figure out how to turn her back," she said. "Or I will bury you all alive."

bonus: when you did return to your normal age, you had no recollection of what had happened, and no one wanted to explain it to you. for a week, you were oblivious, until you opened wednesday's desk drawer to grab moisturizer for thing and found a new object inside. you picked it up, careful not to damage it, and found that it was a picture of you as a child cuddled up to wednesday.

"what the fuck?"

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams #wednesday x reader #wednesday netflix #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega

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sorcerersseestars · 5 months

Text

LIMERENCE (part I)

Gojo Satoru x gn!reader

"I can't stop loving you, no matter how hard I try."

summary: Your long-time friend stirs feelings inside you that you never realized existed. Of course they bubble up in your chest while he’s in the midst of ignoring you and discovering his own possible romance. Your mutual friend thinks she has it all figured out—or does she?

pairing: gojo satoru x gn! reader

fandom: jujutsu kaisen

genre: hanahaki sickness au, angst, hurt/comfort

warnings: mentions of feeling sick, being stonewalled kinda, usage of the word (Y/N) bc Gojo is too fed up for nicknames (in reality idk what else to use 😶), Gojo being an ass (common theme in my fics oops)

word count: 3.6k

a/n: This is the first part to my hanahaki au! I’ve had this in my drafts for the longest time, but never committed to writing it all out until now. This first bit is kinda slow and maybe confusing BUT hopefully I’ll be able to clear it up next chapter. Not proof read very thoroughly; will probably regret later 🫥

part ii

“DON’T YOU THINK you could be a bit nicer to me?” You try, clasping your hands together as you look up at him with an odd smile—a cross between apologetic and playful. You’re joking, or at least half joking. It’s too difficult to be serious with Gojo; his habit of masking emotion with jest must be rubbing off on you.

Only one corner of his mouth raises. “Good one, (Y/N)-chan. As if I didn’t use to pay your bills.”

He doesn’t look at you when he speaks, and he walks away from you without a single glance. You frown and lightly jog a few steps to catch up to him.

“Ah, and I’m forever thankful for that!” You say, cringing at how overly peppy your tone is. “But that’s not exactly what I meant.”

“Hmm,” Is all he says. His hands are in his pockets, but he doesn’t carry himself with as much ease as usual—his posture is closed off, angular and tense.

“What I meant was–” You prompt your own answer, as he doesn’t make any move to. “We haven’t seen each other in a while. I know you’ve been really busy lately, so I don’t blame you, but I think we should go out and do something. Could help relieve some work stress too, don’t you think so?”

“Maybe,” He says, the word short yet effective in its delivery. The word was sharp in his mouth, clear annoyance shaping his tongue enough for the word to have a bite to it.

You wince. He never used to be like this. Gojo has been in a state of perpetual mirth—and one could argue levity—for the entirety of your friendship, never taking anything seriously and always looking for opportunities to poke fun at you to half-jokingly glorify himself. His expression has always been infectiously positive—never molded into anything hard or serious.

But, lately, everything you thought you knew about Gojo Satoru has faded away into your memories. He never seeks out your presence anymore, which is polar opposite from your high school days, when he would follow you around and pester you until you’d hang out with him. You actually used to get annoyed at this behavior, but you’re sorely missing it now.

You feel like you know nothing about him these days, only hearing tidbits here and there from your mutual friend Shoko. It stings to know that he obviously talks to her, and quite often at that, seeing she always has new details to spill every other day.

It doesn’t make sense to you: him and Shoko were never particularly close, definitely not nearly as close as you and Gojo were. In fact, she thought of him as particularly annoying in high school, and often swore to you that she would cut all contact with him once they graduated.

Back then, you had rolled your eyes at her antics, never believing that anybody could cut Gojo out of their life, seeing as he simply wouldn’t let them. But how else could you describe what he seems to be doing to you?

You bite your lip nervously. “Satoru? Is there something wrong?”

“Not particularly,” He says with a forced smile that’s screaming for you to shut up. You pretend like it’s not the most disingenuous smile you’ve ever seen smeared on his face.

“Are you sure?” You probe. “I mean…what’s been going on with you these days? We haven’t seen each other in forever, and you don’t seem yourself.”

“Are you sure?”

His lips are quirked up, as they perpetually are, but it’s different this time. It’s mocking. A mocking smirk that’s telling you to face reality. Do you really know him anymore?

You pause in your steps, studying his expression. You can’t see his eyes, but you wish you could. He’s hard to read with that blindfold concealing those powerful eyes of his, but it never used to be a problem. It hurts that you’re now struggling to gauge him when your emotions used to feel like one.

Evidently, you can’t answer his question. Not that he seems to care.

“I’ve really got to get going. Students to teach, curses to kill, all that,” He announces, tone low and apathetic. Bored. “See ya.”

Your breath flutters in your throat as you try to bid him goodbye. You choke on your words and only end up tentatively raising a hand. Before you can wave, his form disappears. A gust of wind greets you in lieu of a proper goodbye.

You stay where you are for a few shocked moments, not even registering the hot tears that leak from the eyes he avoided.

You wander aimlessly around campus for a while, the whole interaction replaying in your head several times over. His “Are you sure?” needles its way into your brain even when you push it away, the words hitting where it hurts every time.

Your feet find themselves taking you to an empty break room – ah, this is the one that has your favorite flavor of tea. You turn the kettle on, then eagerly dig through the tea stash. You file through the individual packets quickly and thoroughly, but to no avail. It’s gone.

With a sigh, you grab a random tea bag and throw it into your mug. Frustrated, you roughly begin pouring the now-boiled water into the mug, but it doesn’t seem that was a good idea. Your hand slips for just a split second, but a sizable splash of boiling water still manages to singe your non-dominant hand. A stream of expletives leaves your mouth, and you instantly cradle your hand to your heart.

More tears appear. At least you have an excuse this time—it fucking hurts.

You trudge to the clinic, feeling quite silly, but also seeking some much-needed relief. And you’re not exactly imagining painkillers or an ice pack—no, there’s something else. Someone else.

You hesitantly knock on the door. You feel stupid, but you really have to see her.

You crack a smile at the creak of the door. Your friend and co-worker Shoko strides out with an air of confidence you wish you held.

“What happened?” She asks calmly, eyes lazily taking in your form.

“Spilled some water from the kettle,” You say lamely. “It hurts.”

That doesn’t really constitute a visit to one of the only reverse-cursed technique users in the school, and you know it. So does she.

“Mmhm,” She raises her eyebrows. “Well, come on in.”

You shuffle in a little sheepishly, not able to meet Shoko’s eyes. Now that you’re here, you start to feel unsure about your own motive—do you really want to discuss this? Won’t it just be embarrassing more than anything else?

You stall a little in your steps as the negative thoughts invade your head. You’re startled to attention by a poke to your side—when you look up, Shoko’s playful smirk fills your vision.

“Come on over to the sink and we’ll put that under some cool running water,” She says, gesturing to your reddened arm.

You cock your head, looking between her and the sink skeptically, “No ice?”

She shakes her head, sticking her tongue out at you a bit, “Nope! Running water for burns.”

You hold up your hands in defeat, smiling, “Whatever Doctor Shoko says.”

“And I do,” She says cheekily. “So get under that water!”

“Aye-aye,” You say with a salute.

She groans, “Ugh. You guys are so annoyingly similar. Hang on a sec, I gotta grab something.”

She turns away before she can see the way your expression drops. The smile is stolen from your face, leaving behind saddened eyes and a slight frown. There’s only one possible person she could be talking about.

You sigh and turn on the faucet—your disheartened sigh morphs into one of great relief as the cold water soothes your burn.

“That better?” Shoko asks upon her return.

You nod, a small smile coming back, “Yeah, thanks Shoko.”

“Is there something else wrong?” She asks, then shakes her head. “No, scratch that. What’s actually wrong?”

You take a deep breath. How are you going to broach this subject? You wait several moments, pondering your exact next words.

“Do you think Gojo is okay?” You finally ask your long-time friend, words coming out almost cautiously.

She eyes you funnily, “Why are you asking me? As if he doesn’t chase you around the school to blab on about himself.”

You smile, but it’s tainted by bitterness.

“Shoko…Gojo hasn’t talked to me for two months,” You admit quietly. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

She stops.

“What?”

You hate hearing the confusion in her voice. You hate the pity that soon fills her eyes.

“He seriously hasn’t,” You affirm, sighing. “I don’t know what I did, or if I did anything, or…or what. I just, I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Have you tried talking to him about it?”

You sigh. “Of course I have, but he didn’t seem to take my concerns seriously. Or consider them at all. It just seemed like he wanted me to shut up and leave him alone.”

Shoko looks at you curiously, lips quirking as if she has something to say, but no words come out. Is she holding something back?

You take a deep breath, willing the horrible emotion that squeezes your throat away. You look out the window to distract yourself, watching the branches of a sakura sapling swaying in the wind. It looks alone and lost, battered by the relentless wind.

“What’s he been like recently with you?” You finally ask, your gaze still on the tree.

“Normal,” Shoko says. “Annoying as ever. Noisy as ever.”

A cluster of pink petals is ripped from a branch, swirling hopelessly to the ground. When they settle on the ground, you look back to your friend.

“He’s really the same?” You ask weakly.

“Unfortunately,” She says wryly. “Besides, why do you care? We’ve both been trying to get him off our backs since waaay long ago. Sounds like a blessing in disguise.”

“Ah, that’s true,” You admit with a weak chuckle, trying to ignore the way your heart throbs painfully. “But he’s also our friend.”

“Since when? More like a thorn in my side. Maybe he finally got the message,” Shoko smirks. “You should give me instructions for that. I’d have a lot better quality of life, you know.”

You know she’s just joking around with you, but she’s truly just rubbing salt in your wound. Not very ethical for a doctor, even if unintentional.

“Yeah,” You laugh, but it’s an empty sound. “Well, I guess I’ll get going then. Hopefully your next patient gives you an easier time.”

Shoko jokes, “Yeah, this has been my toughest job all week. You fiend.”

Your head is filled with so many questions, all of them growing louder as you walk away from your friend. Your friend who you thought would sympathize with you, but only ended up making you feel worse in the end is acting suspicious. It’s not like you’ve ever wanted to actually cut ties with Gojo, even when he used to pull pranks on you in high school. You craved for a strong friendship with him throughout all his shenanigans.

Why is Shoko acting like you hate Gojo, and what isn’t she telling you?

Before you reach the door, you decide you need to know. You stop abruptly in your tracks.

“Ieiri, you’re not telling me something,” You say softly, not looking back. “Why?”

Shoko sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose, “You don’t miss anything, do you?”

You say nothing. The door in front of you is tempting—it’s your way out of knowing the truth. Do you really want to know?

You wait tensely for a few seconds, the silence causing nerves to bubble up in your stomach. But when Shoko begins to speak, they go don’t go away.

“He hasn’t really been acting strange around me, but he’s constantly on his phone. Like always. Whenever he comes to chat, he immediately tunes me out and starts texting or loudly takes a call,” She snorts, huffing out an exasperated sigh. “I thought he was just bored and trying to make me feel disrespected as a sort of cruel joke, but I think it’s something else. I think…I think Gojo is interested in someone.”

Your head whips around, disbelief clear in your features. Interested in someone?

“Maybe that’s why he’s been acting weird. I always thought he was crazy for you, so it didn’t cross my mind until now.”

“Crazy for me?” You immediately echo back, voice hollow and confused.

Shoko shakes her head at you, “C’mon, you can’t be that oblivious. He always followed you around like a lost puppy in high school. He never said anything to me about it, but I really thought he would confess any day for years.”

“He did that to everyone…” You shake your head. “You say yourself he bugged you so much.”

She rolls her eyes. “Trust me, it was different.”

Your heart pounds in your chest. Your vision becomes foggy at the edges, reality fizzling out.

“Why didn’t you want to tell me?” You ask. “It’s not like that matters.”

You try to appear uncaring, yet it was a fight to get those words out.

“You’re a sensitive person. ‘Didn’t know how you’d react since Gojo always seemed to chase after your attention, exclusively. But it’s not like it was the other way around—should have known it wasn’t a big deal. It’s not. Guess he’s just growing up.”

“Yeah,” You agree faintly, voice devoid of emotion. Reality is slipping through your numb fingers, the information turning your world into a nightmare. You should have opened the door and ran when you had the chance.

“It’s not,” You say with a saccharine smile, one so sickly sweet that Shoko gets chills. That’s not your usual smile—not one that Shoko has ever seen you wear. “Of course it’s not.”

When you turn on your heel and rush out of her infirmary, Shoko reaches out a hand and her lips part to call after you. It’s uncharacteristic for her—the cold doctor is rarely sentimental or emotionally affected, but she saw something ghastly in that smile of yours.

The slam of the door answers her call. The truth, now imparted, comes to bite her in the ass.

It’s been a few days. You’ve been moping around the school, around your students—trying to cope with the information that you don’t even know is true. You see him across campus sometimes; he’s so easily spotted with his translucent hair and tall frame. Every time, he’s facing away from you, and your eyes fall on the back of his head. Your chest always tightens and you end up turning away, too.

You have ignored the feelings stirring in your chest, not willing to admit something that clearly isn’t reciprocated. It has been working, you suppose, since you haven’t cracked under the mental weight of possibly being in lo—

No, you can’t even think that.

Everything has been as okay as it can. It’s not until you attempt to visit Shoko again to try sort out your feelings, however, that things take a turn for the worse.

Your hand is raised as you prepare to knock on the infirmary door, but you hesitate once you hear muffled voices.

“I don’t know…I didn’t expect it at all.”

That’s Gojo’s voice. That low but self-assured tone is undeniably his.

“Expect what?” Shoko asks, sounding bored.

His reply is so soft that it passes by as just a hiss of air, so quiet that you physically startle at Shoko’s loud reaction.

“No! What? I can’t believe that!” She shouts, laughter quickly following her exclamation.

You shouldn’t be listening—you hadn’t planned to eavesdrop on your two best friends, but for some reason your ear seeks out the wall, as if magnetized.

The next three words uttered still your heart.

“Utahime kissed me,” Gojo admits quietly.

You feel like you can’t breathe. Utahime, who has always despised Gojo even beyond Shoko’s extent. Utahime, who once cried into your chest after Gojo was harsh with her at an exchange event. Utahime, who always persisted that you and Gojo were into each other during high school.

Shoko’s unbelieving chuckle cuts through your thoughts.

Shoko laughs, “Oh, yeah, okay, as if I’d ever believe that.”

There’s silence. Your heart drops at the lack of response—no teasing refute, no playful faux playboy attitude.

Shoko absorbs his unusual silence, finally interpreting his words for what they are.

She gasps loudly, spluttering, “Oh my God, you’re being serious. What?! There’s no way…”

Gojo’s voice is even and deep. “I didn’t lie. She just did it out of nowhere. I didn’t even know how to react, to be honest.”

“So you just stood there?” Shoko snorts, trying to keep up her usual sarcastic persona. “God, you’re insufferable all the way around.”

“I kissed her back,” He breathes out, voice almost weak.

Another long moment of silence ensues. You hold your breath, terrified that your panicked pants will alert them of your presence.

Shoko recovers quickly this time.

“Still insufferable,” She sighs, and you can imagine her shaking her head. “So what now? You like her or something? This is so random.”

“I…I don’t know,” He admits quietly. “I never thought she’d do that, it took me by surprise. I…I think I liked it?”

Your heart shatters. You clutch a hand to your mouth, gagging yourself, forcing back the pained gasp that’s threatening to leave your lips.

“Oh, is that so?” Shoko says drily, but the usual edge to her voice is absent. You can only imagine her expression: contorted with pity and pain, desperately trying to maintain her poker face.

“Yeah,” Gojo reaffirms. “It was nice.”

There’s silence for a few seconds as Shoko takes it all in. Then, “Is she who you’ve always been calling and texting when I’m talking to you? You’re an ass for that, by the way.”

Gojo exhales out a sardonic sniff, “You’re spot on.”

Why are you still listening? You should leave. You shouldn’t be hearing this. Pain blooms in your chest, as if thorns became lodged between your ribs.

“What about (Y/N)?”

You freeze, eyes bulging out of your head.

Gojo sighs, sounding annoyed, “What do you mean?”

“I’m not dumb, Satoru. There was something going on during high school and frankly in the past few years as well. Are you going to deny it?”

He scoffs, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Shoko. It was never like that.”

You feel like you’re going to be sick. You shouldn’t—there’s no possible way you’re actually in love with Gojo Satoru, is there?

Fuck. The thought you’ve been trying to avoid all this time has finally firmly inserted itself into your head.

You take off swiftly and immediately, and your footfalls are as light as you can possibly manage. If either of them knew you were here, you wouldn’t be able to handle the shame.

Gojo and Shoko are none the wiser to the immoral action that took place just beyond the door—so when Shoko is ready to clock out and opens the door, the presence of a school ID on the ground is nearly missed. She feels something strange crunch underneath her foot and steps away and glances at the foreign object.

You left in such a hurry that your ID flopped out of your pocket. It lays on the ground, your smiling face staring up at Shoko, who looks on in horror. She immediately knows that you heard everything. She quickly steps back onto your ID, concealing your identity with her foot.

With all the sight of his six eyes, Gojo somehow completely missed Shoko’s strategic maneuvers to erase traces of your presence. He whistles nonchalantly, not having a care in the world, apparently.

In contrast, Shoko’s mind is racing. Her eyes roam around the courtyard, searching for your form. She feels rooted to the spot—will she reveal you if she steps away? She almost forgets that she’s not alone.

“You looking for someone?” Gojo asks.

Shoko stiffens, but forces herself to relax and appear nonchalant. “Ah, I was just wondering if…if (Y/N) would still be around.”

Gojo frowns. “Hm. Not sure. Don’t they usually go home right after they get off?”

“Lately, they’ve been staying back to do paperwork,” She sighs. “Masamichi has really giving them too many missions…How come you don’t know that?”

“Haven’t had the chance to catch up, I guess,” Gojo says evasively, then quickly changes the subject. “Besides, aren’t you the same way? You coming or not? I’ve got better things to do.”

He waves his cell phone around playfully, a smirk widening across his features.

Shoko rolls her eyes, “Go ahead. I’m just going to wait here a bit and see if I can text them and get them over here.”

She hesitates for a second before adding, “Actually, why don’t you wait a sec? We haven’t all seen each other in a bit.”

Gojo immediately stiffens. He scratches the back of his head and says, “Ah, I’m actually sort of on a time crunch. Maybe next time.”

What a lie. Shoko thinks, eyes narrowing subconsciously. What is he up to?

As he trails off into the distance, the gears in Shoko’s head continue to turn. He always, always teleports home after work finishes. So why is he slowly walking around campus, head turning this way and that way as if searching?

And you! Why were you there? Why were you so affected? What is going on in your head—or rather, your heart?

Something strange is going on with her two friends and Shoko is determined to find out what.

PART II

credit 🩷:

@kiyaedits - baby pink dividers, @sweetxmelody - cherry blossom divider

*note: taglist open!! comment to be tagged in part 2 :)

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo behavior #hurt/comfort #gojo hurt/comfort #angst #jjk #best buddie shoko #sad bc utahime and shoko aren’t together in this one 😤#Gojo is a hater

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smuttysabina · 6 months

Text

Incandescent

(Rose x Male Reader, 3k Words) Tags: Femdom, oodles of fluff, some fun sex, some trauma is involved, kinda artsy, some physical as well as mental abuse

A/N This is a quick little story I spun up after I imagined Rose ranting while dominating you, enjoy!

Darkness cocoons you as tightly as any restraint, filling your senses, drowning your eyes in an endless nothingness that devours your sanity. The strongest prisons are the ones we make for ourselves, and the dark provides all the material you would ever need. Which is not to say that your fetters did not also exist in the mundane realm of existence outside of your thoughts, softly clinking metal binds your wrists and ankles to the stolid slab that supports you. The sound of the metal whispering against itself was the only indication of the passing of time; the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears already ignored as your brain probes for threats in the ceaseless night. You shiver in numbing terror as your mind concocts all manner of horrors for your stress-addled body to react to; anything was preferable to unending nothingness of unthoughts. Mankind had always feared the abyss of twilight, not from the dangers it might hold, but from what it awakened within; the agony of introspection. Little wonder then that we have always cleaved towards the light for comfort, not realizing that the greatest threat is often the one we can see the clearest. The door scrapes open behind you, casting dazzling shadows upon the walls that your eyes eagerly devour even as they bring tears of overstimulation. A voice as soft and sweet as honey drips into your ears,

"Now what do we have here?"

Your skin nearly tears itself from your bones in surprise, as a velvety hand gently caresses your bare shoulder, its owner's footsteps so quiet you had not heard their approach. Or perhaps, the pounding of blood in your ears had covered her movements; perhaps she wasn't even real... Murmured curses sound as the new arrival scrabbles around on the wall, her nails a cacophony to your sound-starved ears. The faint click of plastic soon follows, and your senses explode with pain as light sears into your brain, causing you to scream in astonished pain. You blink rapidly, squinting against the glare, the pale shape floating in front of you gradually shifting into a sleek white evening dress, adorning a radiant goddess. The beguiling beauty idly slurps on her drink as she waits for your cognition to return, her blonde hair tied back in a business-like manner. The light haloing her is intense, pouring down in a cone in front of you; the harsh buzz of it grating on your hearing. She gives a quaint smile when she notices sanity returning to your gaze, sloshing her drink around in studied amusement as you come to truly realize your predicament. Rose leans against the table and sighs, motioning towards the ceiling,

"Do you know how many times I've asked them to change out these lights? You would think with all the millions we've made for them, the least those imbeciles could do is at least replace this garbage with something nicer. Oh well, I imagine you didn't come here to listen to me rant about company politics; actually, why are you here at all? Don't answer, it was a rhetorical question. You got caught wandering where you shouldn't, so who do you belong to, hm? Not Jennie, that's for certain, you still seem reasonably sane and entirely undrained of all vitality. Perhaps you're one of Lisa's little toys, was she being too demanding of you as usual? Or are you Jisoo's... that must be it, she probably let you stumble around while she was busy elsewhere; typical. Ah well, now you are mine to play with, punishing you should prove to be an enjoyable way to destress..."

Horror dawns upon you as the idol distractedly rambles on, her fierce gaze boring into you as she talks. You stutter out a question through parched lips, your voice rasping from disuse. Rose pauses, and with another distracted sigh, pokes the straw of her drink into your mouth, allowing you to gulp down the refreshingly sweet liquid. She yanks the drink away from you after several seconds, but after examining the depleted state of her beverage she gracefully allows you to finish it off. A raised eyebrow prompts you to repeat your question, "Why?"

"Why what? Why do this? Because I can, because I enjoy breaking people until they worship me, because it's fun," a sleazy smile briefly appears, "And to be completely honest, because it arouses me immensely. Yes, it's very depraved I know, truly I am the weird one because I enjoy a little sadism with my sex. Any more burning questions? We have a little time until I finish my- oh right; well it's going to be rather gratifying sticking this straw in places it doesn't belong. Hm, what made me so angry? Oh my poor little dear, I'm not angry, just extremely irritated; I suppose if your interested I could torture you with mind-numbingly boring tales of lawyering... Oh you are cute, you think you're playing for time do you?" Rose traces her hand down your chest, making you shiver at her gentle touch, "You see, I find that the most agonizing thing for those I dominate is the waiting. You just keep hoping that the moment will never come, always worried that the next minute will be the one when I truly dig in. So I think a little..." she leans forward to breath into your ear, "Anticipation will make this more fun, yes?"

You let out a low moan as Rose's hand ends its journey and firmly grasps your genitals, giving them a squeeze in promise of the torments to come before withdrawing. Rose suddenly whirls, stalking back to her perch on the table; her hand automatically reaching for her drink before remembering once more that it is empty. She languidly waves at you, indicating that it is your turn to entertain, or simply suffer in silence. Rose pointedly settles a finger on the light switch, she knows. Terrified by the thought of being alone in the dark, completely at Rose's mercy, you rack your brain for anything forestall the darkness. "Why are you feeling so irritated?"

Rose grimaces, slowly returning to stand in front of you, placing her foot on the slab she lets out a slow breath; before promptly slapping you twice, "Now that, was a poor question, dear pet, now I am inclined to simply skip straight to the more intimate methods of teaching submission. Perhaps next time you'll learn to be more of an adroit conversationalist... Hm, why am I hurting you? I thought we established that already, now be silent or I'll fetch the ball gag- Oh, you meant why am I a sadist?" Rose pinches your chin, tapping on your face as she ponders whether she should answer the query. It is to your great relief that she appears willing to do so, forestalling your inevitable punishment, "That, is a long story, and would require a great deal of backstory, but I am a product of my vocation. Idol training requires some... demeaning concessions, so perhaps I am simply taking out my frustrations on all of you."

"That's the easy answer," your mouth foolishly spouts before you silence it.

Rose seems pleased by your boldness however, playfully squishing your lips together, "Is it though? Perhaps, the simpler answer is the best one; but still, such courage does require a reward..." Rose seductively hooks a finger over the top of her dress, before slowly pulling it down, revealing her breasts, pale skin glistening in the light. Your body automatically responds to such stimulation, your manhood hardening, your breath quickening as it pumps oxygen into your muscles in anticipation of sex. You manage to hold on to your sanity however, your mind still too riven with paranoia, to give fully into your primal urge to breed. Rose cocks her head at your reaction, "You know, most people would be humping the air right now; the girls too, not just the boys. I've seen more bitches than you've ever met sobbing as they beg me to impregnate them; it's sickening really. It's no wonder I have to discipline such degenerates, right? And the worst part of it," Rose pauses, considering whether she should continue before shrugging to herself, "The worst part is how much they adore me for it. They love me even before I break them; even my supposed "haters" are slobbering over themselves with devotion after only a few minutes in my presence. None of them hate me for it, none of them despise me for forcing them to demean themselves in the most perverse ways possible," Rose slips her hand down your neck, nails digging slightly into your chest, drawing white lines across your skin, "Will you hate me then, before the end? Your fear is palpable, but will you look up at me with loathing when I finally break you?"

To say that you are greatly concerned at the mental state of the idol sharing the room with you would be an understatement. You shudder at the thought of what horrors she would inflict upon you; evidently Rose is well versed in the art of pain. More horrifying yet, your body seems strangely aroused by that, depravedly hungering for its own destruction if it meant a chance to impregnate the sexual goddess. Her eyes bore intensely into your own, and you feel her claws starting to hook into you; something was needed to distract her... You gulp, "I'll try, but um, how do the other girls deal with it?"

Rose snorts in amused contempt, "You sure know how to inspire confidence in a woman, pet. But I'll indulge you, we don't. All of us idols are fucked up," Rose counts them off on her fingers, "Twice is a freaking breeding cult, Itzy are simply insane, IVE are spoiled rotten, Loona are is cracked as their fans, Red Velvet are literal whores, Aespa enjoy getting passed around like baubles, and don't even get me started about the boy groups... Oh and Blackpink, I would say we're the worst of the whole bunch," Rose distractedly sits on the slab as she rants, occasionally slapping your thighs for emphasis, "Do you know what Lisa did today? Of course you don't, you've been locked down here, alone in the dark. We were in a meeting with the idiots who run this place, and they were begging on their knees for us not to leave the company. Now they looked like they hated us for forcing them to demean themselves like that; well most of them did, some were enjoying it. But then Lisa, that crazy bitch, you know what she does?"

You cough, "She uh, fucked them?"

Rose blinks at your interruption, before snorting, "Good guess, but no, not yet at least; I imagine it will come to that eventually. No, Lisa just looked at these pitiful business men pawing at our feet, and then she pissed on them. Oh I am completely serious, she just pissed on them and giggled. I don't think I've ever seen Jisoo laugh that hard, and Jennie nearly choked on her coffee! To be honest, I also joined in, but at that point it was more about sending a message than anything else. So you see, all of us are bent in one way or another; especially us. Lisa is literally a nymphomaniac, she has a full-scale mental breakdown after a single day without sex. Jennie's sex drive is so monstrous she can fuck for weeks without stopping; you think I'm joking but I'm not. And dear Jisoo... she just loves showering her pets with so much love they drown in it; she's probably the least crazy of all of us. Hm, and me? Oh come now, no doubt you can already tell the direction my vices run..." Rose flicks a switch, causing the slab to tilt horizontal. She grabs your neck and leans in for a savage kiss, "So tell me pet, do I seem even remotely sane?"

"Um, yes?"

Rose laughs so hard she staggers, holding on to the slab for support as she howls. It takes some time to compose herself, but when she does it is to your relief that her dark mood looks to have dissipated. She gives you something approaching a fond smile and gives you the courage to push your luck, "See? Maybe you just needed some wholesome venting and not torture-sex after all!" Rose's smile grows more genuine, and she reaches behind her back, toying with something. With a suddenness that surprises you, Rose's dress cascades to the ground, leaving her entirely naked. Your eyes balloon as you drink in the awesome sight of an idol's body, her tender breasts, her taut stomach, and most importantly, the pair of lips gleaming mere inches away from your face. You feel something trickle down your shaft, as you gawp at the beautiful girl standing ever so close to you. Rose glances at your crotch with studied humor, she gives your meat a flick as she climbs up onto the slab, straddling your face.

"While the venting was nice, I still do desire some sex; so for your sake you had best pleasure me enough to keep me wholesome. Or don't, we're going to reach the point where I need to start getting truly inventive to keep you up eventually, so why not start early?" Rose promptly plants her pussy on your mouth, "So let's see if that tongue of yours is as skilled at pleasing as it is at talking. Be sure to give it your all, pet, I don't intend for you to be conscious by the time this is over, so spare nothing." After that she relaxes on your face for a while, glancing down at you on occasion as she idly gropes herself. For your part you spend the time drowning in her juices, frantically licking and sucking at the delicious flesh in your mouth. Eventually however, she orders you to stop, "Wow... you are fucking terrible at this, its so bad its honestly impressive. Are you a virgin? Though that's really not much of an excuse. Hm, that's the first of your chances to satisfy me gone, let's hope the next one goes better," Rose scoots backwards, dragging her pussy lips across your chest until they slide over your erect cock, "I was pleasantly surprised to see you hadn't cum when I stripped for you, perhaps that indicates you have more stamina than usual..." With a complete lack of fanfare, Rose sits on your cock in a single smooth motion, devouring every inch of you with ease. Your balls pulse in response, and she lets out a disappointed sigh, "Well I guess not, oh well."

Rose starts to ride you, uncaring of how sensitive you were following an orgasm; making a mess on your crotch as your seed leaks out of her. After several minutes of such excessive pleasure, you climax once more; Rose doesn't even bother slowing down. Only when you start to flag does she even start to pay attention to anything other than her own enjoyment, "You know, as much as you amuse me with all of your philosophizing, and even after all that wonderfully justifying on my part; at the end of the day I'm really just a cruel bitch, aren't I?" With a devilish smirk, Rose leans over, and flicks of the light. The abyss embraces you once more, but this time, you know there is something sharing it with you. You cringe, paranoid of all the horrors Rose will inflict upon you in darkness. She giggles, "Oh you are simply adorable dear pet, I should do this sort of thing more often, sensory deprivation truly brings out the animal in us..." Her hand is suddenly clamped around your neck, pinching off the blood flow to your brain, "So get it up again, or don't, I like it when you resist," A rain of stinging slaps and pinches descends upon, her abuse landing seemingly at random; often she pauses in her efforts until you are shivering with anticipation. Most terrifying of all, was how hard it made you, your cock becoming erect with fear. Rose laughs with delight as you climax once more, "God you are such a fucking quick-shot, you're lucky to have a girl like me to tolerate your pathetic cock. Do try to not black out too early, I might just keep fucking you anyways."

Ensconced in the endless gloom, you are completely vulnerable to Rose's attentions. She pinches and slaps, kneads and squeezes, licks and gnaws, sucking on your flesh until it bruises. You are lost in a world of unexpected pain and sensation, the only constant in your universe is the warm wetness around your cock. The heat surrounding your manhood seems to devour your misery, your suffering fueling a burning lust that somehow manages to keep you erect even after several orgasms. The heat of Rose's body imprints itself into your mind; no longer were you alone, now she was there as well. The ceaseless slap of flesh reaches a crescendo, Rose's sudden gasp painfully loud, as a fresh source of warmth spreads from your crotch. Her heaving breaths grow closer until they caress your face, and she murmurs, "Do you hate me now, pet?" Your body is a pattern of bruises and aches, your skin sensitive to the merest touch, your manhood a beacon of pleasurable agony; so you answer honestly,

"No."

Rose whistles softly, "Well I suppose I will just have to try harder then. Scream as much as you'd like, there's only the two of us in here"

You merely smile as a fresh round of abuse begins; how could you hate such a goddess? How could you hate Rose after she filled the empty void with such exquisite stimulation, banishing the horrors of nothingness. No longer would you fear the twilight of your mind, because Rose would always be there with you, dispelling the shadows, incandescent in the dark.

#smut #blackpink smut #rose smut #kpop smut

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clockwayswrites · 9 months

Text

Like Betta Fish Do Part 22

wc: 2556, Masterpost

Danny was flying to Chicago.

It wasn’t exactly his choice to be flying to Chicago. He’d much rather be in Gotham getting some homework done at Jason’s while stealing kisses and food. That was his idea of a good weekend right there and with the end of the semester swiftly approaching he had plenty to do. But no, Sam had told him he better get his undead ass to Chicago that weekend or she’d come to Gotham and drag him out by his hair. Danny had long ago drank his respect women juice (and knew Sam would follow through), so he was flying to Chicago.

Tucker, equally as whipped by Sam, was driving into the city that same day.

Apparently they had to talk about Jason.

In person.

Danny thought it was overkill, but no one wanted to listen to the dead guy about what counted for that, he guessed, so Danny was flying to Chicago.

At least the skyline was pretty to look at as he approached.

Staying invisible, Danny flew into Sam and Val’s apartment from the outside wall. They were six floors up and in a nicer place than two college students should be able to afford. Living somewhere with the security of a front desk was one of the conditions Sam’s parents had for her going to Chicago for college. Sam had complained, but Danny didn’t think she minded as much as she claimed after hearing horror stories from friends about the state of some of the places they had lived.

Danny didn’t see Sam in the living room, but Val was in the kitchen. He floated silently up behind her.

“Boo.”

“I still can and will end you, ghost boy,” she said.

Danny sighed and shimmered into existence. “You’re no fun, Val.”

“You used to think I was plenty fun.”

“Ah to be young and stupid,” Danny said, then had to dodge a punch with a laugh. He floated up to sit cross legged on the ceiling. “Hey! I’m just saying we are both better off not dating each other.”

“I’ll wait until after the interrogation to decide on how good your current situation is or not.”

Danny groaned. “Ancients, how bad is Sam planning to be?”

Val just gave him a look and popped a piece of the bell pepper she had been cutting up into her mouth.

“Okay, yeah. I sorta expected that,” Danny said in defeat and drifted morosely down from the ceiling.

“She’s buying ice cream though,” Val said after Danny had settled into a ghostly puddle. “So if you behave it might just turn into girl talk.”

Danny squinted up at the ceiling. “Real ice cream or vegan ice cream?”

“Both.”

So there was hope then.

Sam arrived with a bang of the door about fifteen minutes later. “Val! I found something scrungly on the street.”

“Hey!” Tucker protested as he followed her inside carrying most of the groceries.

“I found something scrunglier,” Val said, pointing to where Danny was lounging on one of the couches, back to his human form.

“I’ll own that.”

“You!”

“Me,” Danny confirmed with a sigh.

“You owe us so many explanations, Danny,” Sam said, setting bags down in the kitchen.

“Like how did you meet him?”

“So—”

“And when did you know he was a halfa?”

“I mean—”

“And how long have you been dating?”

“Our first—”

“And—”

“Sam! Ancients! You have to let me actually answer if you want answers!” Danny explained.

She stepped out of the kitchen to glare at him, arms crossed. “Fine, come help get snacks and then you are talking.”

“Sure sure sure.”

Talking took all night. The only thing, really, that Danny managed to keep from them were Jason’s last name, that he was a vigilante, and how he died (and was revived). The last one was easy, they knew better than to ask, and the first Danny was able to convince Sam it would just distract Tucker. He promised he’d let them have a video call with Jason tomorrow and they could learn his full name then.

But the chase with Johnny, the presents, Jason’s confusion; Danny went into it all. He explained helping Jason through the ectoshots and Jason genuinely becoming his friend. He admitted how early he was crushing on the other, but thought he had no chance because Jason was handsome and smart and so kind. He talked about how warm he felt having that kindness directed at him. And then the date! And the date that he planned… he sounded completely gone, he knew that, but he was.

Luckily how gone he was seemed to sooth a lot of Sam’s anger at not being told for so long. It all went better than Danny expected, and it was good to have his best friends finally know.

None of that made him any less nervous for the video call. He set up his laptop, ignored Tucker’s ‘dude, you still have that thing?’, and pressed call. He had sent Jason a warning text before calling, so it wasn’t long before Jason picked up. He must be on his tablet. It looked liked Jason had actually taken some time to figure out where to sit that would have decent lighting and frame his apartment well. The effort was actually really sweet.

“Jason, everyone. Everyone, Jason,” Danny said, motioning at the screen.

There was a pause and then Sam grabbed a throw pillow and just started wailing on Danny with it.

“Danny!”

“Ow!”

“A Wayne?!”

“Wait, what?” Tucker asked, pulling out his phone. “Wayne as in Wayne Enterprises Wayne?”

“A Wayne, Danny!” Sam landed a particularly vicious hit.

“Sam!”

“You could stop this, you know,” Val said to the screen.

“You know, I don’t really know if I could,” Jason, the not so little shit that he was, said with a grin.

Tucker looked from his phone to the screen and back down again. “Ancients, he’s a Wayne.”

Sam landed one last hit before she took a breath, pushed back her now wild hair, and looked to the screen. “Hi, I like your father’s move to zero impact manufacturing, even if tree credits are mostly a scam and he could do more.”

“Thanks?” Jason said with a bemused sort of smile. “That’s really Tim’s area, I work with the Foundation, not Enterprises.”

Tucker sighed, “You couldn’t be dating Tim instead?”

“He just wants to cuddle the new Wayne phone,” Danny explained after spitting out a feather.

“Got it. What’s your critique?” Jason asked Val.

“Oh, I’m his ex, I just enjoy watching the chaos,” she said, hooking a thumb at Danny.

Jason nodded sagely. “Valid.”

“So,” Danny said, drawing the word out. “As you have guessed, Jason Todd Wayne. Jason, this is Sam, Val, and Tucker.”

“Wait!” Sam interrupted. “If you’re, and you’re, that means then— shit, you really died, huh?”

“Yeah, well,” Jason said with a little shrug and a crooked, slightly somber smile. “The real surprise is actually that I’m less re-alive than I thought.”

“Yeah… Danny told us that you didn’t know you were a halfa. Sorry dude, that sucks,” Tucker said seriously before he brightened and flung an arm around Danny’s shoulder. “But like, the best guy I know is a halfa so you’re in good company! Mostly. The fruit loop is the worst but Dani is great! So you know, three for four is pretty good.”

“I’ve had much worse odds before,” Jason said honestly. “Besides, Danny has been helping me figure it all out. I’d be doing a lot worse without his help. Hell, I was doing a lot worse.”

“Danny said something about corrupted ecto? Sounds nasty dude. Glad that’s clearing up for you.”

“Thanks to Danny and Frostbite,” Jason said, he didn’t exactly shift in his seat, but Danny could tell the question made him a little tense. “It’s not all settled yet, but it’s a lot better and we’ll keep working on it.”

“And what do you do for work?” Sam asked.

“Wow, Sam, could you be any more obvious with that segway?” Danny asked, twisting to look at her incredulously.

“I work for the Martha Wayne Foundation. I do a lot with low income housing in Crime Alley, but also addiction rehabilitation. Literacy is a new project I’m pushing on,” Jason said like the question didn’t bother him. “I might go back to school so that I can do more for it.”

“That’s what you want to do or just what you’re doing?”

“You knew who I was on sight, so I figure you know my story,” Jason said, his tone finally hardening some. “I got lucky, not everyone has that chance. This is a way I can give help back. I still live in Crime Alley and I’m going to make sure that when I die, for good, that it’s a better place than it was when I was born.”

“See? He want’s to do good Sam, just like you, despite having money,” Danny said pointedly.

She looked like she might argue for a moment before she just huffed out an annoyed breath.

“Look, I bet you think I can’t say anything that would actually threaten you—”

Jason raised his hands. “I always respect the capabilities of a determined woman.”

Sam actually paused at that before she gathered up her scowl again. “But I have befriended something as close to a god as you will ever meet, and if you hurt Danny in any malicious way, I will sic Undergrowth on you and no one will ever find your body because it will be decomposing into fertilizer in the Infinite Realms.”

“Got it,” Jason said. “Do you want to meet Pamela Isley sometime? I think the two of you would get along.”

“Pamela Isley as in…”

“Yep. Her wife is my therapist.”

Sam turned to Danny. “Danny, I approve of your boyfriend, even if he’s a Wayne. Val, we’re going to Gotham for spring break.”

Danny covered his laugh at how quickly Jason figured a way into Sam’s good graces, not that Danny minded in the least. He’d take this weekend going well.

“Danny?

“Hum? Sorry?” Danny made himself drag his attention away from his phone and up to his friends. It seemed like Jason had missed Danny as much as Danny missed him by all the messages he’d gotten the last few days. There hadn’t even been time to see each other before the week started and now it was already Thursday.

By the expressions the others had, he figured he looked absolutely besotted. Well, damn.

“Do you want to head over to It’s a Grind with us to study for the test?” Cloe asked.

“Oh, I would, but my boyfriend got done with his stuff early, so he’s here to pick me up,” Danny explained with a little wave of his phone.

“That does explain the look on your face,” Fara said with a laugh before she sang, “Danny and what’s his name sitting in a tree.”

José rolled his eyes. “Dios mío, Fara, how are you so bad with names? It’s Jason. Danny only mentions him all the time.”

“Hey!” Danny and Fara said at the same time.

“A, Fara, you are, you still don’t know our econ prof’s name and we started our final project today.”

“I do too!” Fara protested with a pout. “It’s… ah… Barry!”

“Baramore, Fara, it’s Baramore.”

“I was close,” she said, tossing a fold of her hijab like it was her hair and she was a cliché valley girl.

José rounded on Danny. “And two—”

“Shouldn’t it be B?”

“And two!” José repeated more firmly, “Danny, you really do mention Jason a lot. Not in a bad way, but you were so gone for the guy even before you started dating that we had bets.”

“We did,” Cloe confirmed. “I won, of course.”

“Of course you did. Why do I always make friends like this?” Danny asked with a sigh.

“Because you only attract the best,” Fara said with a wink and finger guns.

Danny barked a laugh at that. “Sure. But anyways, I have to go, but I will totally catch you another day to study, it sounds like this test will be a beast.”

“Sure, I’ll message you about some time, but start studying before it since you’re missing today,” Cloe ordered.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll study,” Danny said, walking backwards away from the group.

As he turned and slid through a gap of the throng of people gathered outside of the science building, he caught the end of Fara exclaiming, “who I think it is?”

He supposed the cat was out of the bag here too, and for a lot more people. Everyone was staring (and trying really hard to make it seem like they weren’t staring) at the motorcycle parked by the curb. Or, more likely, they were staring at the man leaning against it.

Danny had no qualms taking a moment to stare himself. Jason looked great in tight, black wash jeans and a black and red leather jacket over a grey button up. Ancients it was good to see him again, text and calls just weren’t the same.

“Hey dead boy!” Danny called out. Heads swiveled to him with shocked gasps, but Danny only had eyes for Jason and the smile that lit up his face.

“Hey, fish.” Jason tucked his phone in his back pocked and leaned back in a way that let his legs fall a little more open.

Danny didn’t hesitate to slip in between them and tug Jason into a kiss by his jacket. He gave a pleased hum as Jason’s large hands settled on his hips, rubbing little circles there.

“Good surprise?” Jason asked. He exuded swagger and confidence, but Danny knew Jason well enough now to see the nerves behind the smirk.

Hoping to soothe the worry, Danny kissed Jason again. “Great surprise.”

Some of the well hidden tension bled out of Jason’s shoulders. Still, he apologized, “I think people might have recognized me.”

“Ya think?” Danny asked with a laugh. “As cool as your bike is, I’m pretty sure it’s you that drew this crowd. I don’t mind though.”

“Really?”

“Really. Now stop worrying, dead boy, I’m starving and your text promised food.”

“Oh, I see how it is, you’re just using me for food,” Jason grumbled and shoved Danny playfully away.

Danny let himself stumble back with a laugh and caught the helmet that was tossed his way. “Come on, Jason, feed your starving college boy.”

“And what does my starving college boy want?” Jason asked before he tugged on his own helmet and swung one leg over his bike.

“Hum, other than you?” Danny teased once his helmet was on, knowing only Jason could hear him now. His words were rewarded with a snort of amusement. “Let’s go to that great Greek place.”

“Your wish is my command.”

“Now if I had known that,” Danny said with a laugh. He settled behind Jason, pressing close and resting a hand on Jason’s hip. As they pulled away he gave a cheeky little wave to his friends who had come to gawk with the rest of the students.

Looked like he’d have more yelling over text messages to answer. Oh well, the reward of speeding down the streets of Gotham with Jason was worth it.

-----

AN: Well, more and more people learn about Danny and Jason Wayne. I wounder who else needs to learn about them? Huuuummmmmm.....

As always, stay delightful my darlings and maybe make sure to hydrate too!

I no longer tag people! You can instead subscribe to the masterpost to be notified.

#dp x dc #dead on main #like betta fish do

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bigassmoonchild · 7 months

Text

Meetings

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: When did things ever go your way? First, you nearly lost Simon. And now? You were so close to losing your family because of one stupid fucking thing. You remembered why you kept your distance.

Content Tags: Fluff, Simon being nervous, Simon being Good With Kids, Bits of Intimacy, Violence, Attacks, Fights, Braxton Hicks, Slight Awkwardness, Crying, Comfort, Kind of Hurt/Comfort, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha! Ghost, No Use of Y/N

A/N: I'm entirely unsure of when this series will be ended. It should be soon, unfortunately, but I would love to be able to write for more things (especially the Nine series, I've really been lacking on that). Either way, here she is! Little bit shorter, but it's okay (you'll love it).

Part 1 | Previous, Next | Headcannons, Masterlist

Simon was absolutely terrified. He wasn't entirely sure what to bring to meet your family, but you'd been antagonizing him about trying to bring a suit. 'Just be yourself,' you'd told him. And so he'd packed up a small amount of his wardrobe, some sweats and jeans, a few of his nicer shirts and pants, and a few hoodies and regular shirts.

He still wanted to bring a suit, or something similar, just in case they wanted to go out somewhere nice. He knew only what you told him about your family, about your parents. Truth be told, he wasn't sure what he'd do if your father did anything to your or his now almost-pack.

If he was truly scared, he would never tell you. The flight went alright, slight hiccups of turbulence here and there. "Let me drive us there, lovie," he whispered as you waited for your luggage. His hand was resting on the nape of your neck, rubbing against the mating gland softly.

You shook your head. "From what I've heard, you are a horrid driver. I also know how to get home, so I'll have the pleasure of driving us. Carefully," and he gave a short laugh.

Even under his balaclava, he felt rather exposed. Not knowing exactly where he was wasn't something he entirely enjoyed. He was unsure, on alert and rather nervous. He never came around this way, and it had been a long travel for the two of you. A layover or two, you'd ended up stealing his hoodie for comfort at one point (definitely not because you threw up and it got on your shirt).

That was something that helped him, though. Seeing you clearly claimed as his, scent marked and all. It was calming, made him focus on something as the two of you waded through the crowds in the airport and on your way out.

His hand rested on your leg the entire drive to the hotel, just so you could drop everything off and get fully ready for the day ahead of you. He watched, carefully, as you got dressed in a pretty little sundress and make yourself look 'nicer'.

On the ride there, you seemed antsy. Your fingers tapped quickly on the steering wheel, the foot not on the gas was tapping quickly. Your scent was mildly stressed, shifting from your normal, sweet scent to something spicier. His Alpha was bugging him, snarling some things about omega stressed and fix it.

For some time, he allowed his eyes to drift shut. You'd bugged him into wearing just a normal balaclava for this, after some discussions about whether or not he really needed to wear it in front of your family (the answer was yes, obviously).

And as the car slowed to a stop, rocking just slightly with the shift in gears to par, he opened his eyes and breathed deeply. It was a nice little house, not too big but just big enough for a family. No picket fence, he humored himself.

Opening his door, he stepped out and gave a little stretch before coming onto your side and helping you out. You pressed a little kiss against his cheek, letting him drape the jacket he was wearing around your shoulders. You gave him a little smile, and it warmed his heart just enough to shake most of the nerves away.

The front yard was filled with pups of all ages, a few of the older ones sitting on the stoop to watch them. You greeted each one, ruffling some hair and pulling them into side hugs. Simon followed quietly behind, waving a little to the older ones who gave him a strange look.

As you opened the door, a waft of slightly warm air came out. It smelled of apple pie, some stronger spices following closely. The inside looked warm, soft lights turned on in the inner most rooms, pictures hung on the walls of all different people.

Sliding his boots off, he watched as you greeted a few people looking around your age. "Simon, these are my siblings," and you smiled, eyebrows raising in a gesture to make him smile. He gave a short one, just enough for his eyes to squint. Pointing to each one, you gave him a name "Clint, Clair and Arthur," he gave a little wave.

Clair pulled you to the side, whispering quickly into your ear and glancing at Simon every few words. Clint and Arthur dragged him off to the living area, settling him down and tossing a beer into his hands.

"How d'you know her?" Clint gestured to you, walking into the kitchen with Clair and hearing a short squeal.

"Work," he answered easily. "You know what she does?" Clint shrugged and Arthur looked away.

"Just know she's doing some doctor shit," Arthur said, jaw clenching. "Didn't think it'd be military," his eyes found Simons and held the stare.

Simon looked down, not wanting to start a fight the first time he met your family. You'd kill him before any of them got to him. "She's safe," he told them. "Doesn't go on missions or anything, mostly works on the medical bay on base," he told them. Simon would never tell them exactly what happened that day, what felt like centuries ago.

He watched as the heli went down. He heard the shouts, watched as a figure struggled out of the debris and heaved a sigh of relief when your voice called over the coms.

You returned, not too much later, with what appeared to be your mother, sister and possibly father in tow. You sat between Arthur and Simon, looking over to him and giving him a soft smile.

"What is it you brought us all together for," your father huffed deeply. Your mother, in turn, smacked at his arm and threatened him to be nice. He scoffed and looked away, coughing deeply.

You glanced up at Simon one more time. "I wanted to introduce you all to Simon. We're," you paused and breathed deeply. Simons hand found your shoulder, squeezing softly.

"We're mated," he finished your sentence and everyone stared. Hard.

Clint was the first to shoot up, taking a step towards Simon before you jumped between them. Christ, if your brother tried to beat his ass you would kill him. Clint snarled at you, causing Simon to stand. He was tall, you suddenly realized. Much, much taller than Clint.

Your father finally spoke up. "Sit down, Clint," he snarled and the two men sat. "How'd this happen, girl?" You shook your head.

"Just happened," you whispered.

"And we weren't told anything? How long has this been for?"

"I don't know, maybe a year? I've been busy with work," you huffed. You could feel your heartrate rising, heart pounding in your ears before Simon chuffed against your back. You heaved a deep sigh, closing your eyes as his fingers found your wrist gland.

No one spoke for some time, you finally sat next to Simon once more.

"Well I'm happy for you," Clair spoke up. "He seems like a good, strong Alpha. As long as he makes you happy, I'm all good," and you smiled at her. Your mother, off to the side, was nodding with her. With everyone, mostly calmed, small talk began.

A few of your nieces and nephews had piled in after hearing the commotion, piled in the entryway. A few had gone up to Simon, smelling him and he allowed it. Quietly sitting there, letting the pups even climb on him to get a better scent.

"That's not all I wanted to tell you," you whispered, playing with your fingers while watching Simon carefully lower down the little one who'd climbed on him. Your father closed his eyes, leaning back. He breathed deeply, holding his breath for a few moments.

"You're pregnant," he said. "Can smell it, not too different from Arthur," and once again, Clint blew up. He leaped for Simon, snarling hard. Simon didn't move, grabbing the pup in front of him and moving the little one out of the way before Clint landed on him.

Simon didn't respond to the punches battering against him, and Arthur tugged you out of the way. He was the only other Omega, other than your mother. Your father stood, growling loudly before launching into a fit of coughs.

Clint paused, staring down at Simon. "Fucking monster, getting my sister all caught in your messy ass military shit," and you stood. Shoving Clint hard, baring your own teeth. Clint turned on you, eyes wild. He stood over you and snarled, hands moving to reach for you. Simon, at that, finally jumped.

His hands caught Clints, grasping tightly and snarling harshly at him. It quieted everyone, Clint tugging to get his hands out of Simons grasp. "Touch her and I'll break every damned bone in that hand," and Clint finally bared his neck. Submitting.

Clint had always been the big bad Alpha, taking after your father. He'd gotten into so many fights in school, you'd never even had any form of a partner. If he smelled an Alpha on you, even if it had been an accidental brush, they'd be beaten.

A cramp pulled you away from everything, your hand finding your now swelling belly as pains wracked it. A warbled groan fell from your mouth and you felt hands gently wrap around you. They lowered you onto the couch, and when you opened your eyes Simon was crouched just between your legs.

You could smell the fear in his scent, changed from the anger that had just been surrounding it. "'s nothing, Si, probably just some braxton hicks. I'll be okay," and he shook his head.

"Pain isn't normal, lovie," he whispered. "Especially not after some severe stress," he added carefully.

No one moved, just watching the two of you. You smiled carefully, pressing your hands against his cheeks. "I promise," you told him.

He nodded slowly, finally giving in. "He's a good Alpha," your mother spoke up. "I don't care if anyone else here doesn't agree," she added. Your father nodded with her statement, sitting back down and closing his eyes once more.

"Clint can leave," he said and said man scoffed. He grabbed his coat and left, slamming the door shut behind him. You looked to your father, eyes wide. "He protects you. Any good Alpha would do that, packmate or not. I am," he paused. "Accepting of this," he finally finished.

Dinner was a quiet affair. Simon kept something of his touching you the entire time, finally pulling the balaclava off of him to eat. He complimented your mothers cooking, who pushed some of it to Arthur. Simon complimented him, alongside the few pups he could recognize as his.

And as you bid your goodbyes, promising to come back tomorrow for some more talking and celebrating, you watched your father shake Simons hand. There were some whispered words between them, and when Simon came back he once more slid the jacket around your shoulders.

He opened the passenger door for you, closing it carefully and climbing into the drivers seat. The ride back was quiet, and you watched as the lights and houses passed by you. His hand rested on your thigh, your fingers wrapped around a few of his own. His thumb drummed on the steering wheel to the beat of the song, and your head rested against the window.

"That went better than I was expecting," he suddenly spoke up. You gave a wet laugh, tears suddenly brimming your eyes. His head turned to look at you quickly before going back to the road. You could feel the hot tears running down your cheeks, the car slowing to a stop as you opened your eyes.

He pulled the passenger door open, tugging you out and pulling you into his arms. Your nose pressed into his chest, sobs finally spilling out of your chest.

"I just wanted them to love you like I do," you sobbed and he hummed against you, rocking the two of you slightly. Simon pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, chuffing gently against you.

"They just need to warm up to it," he whispered. "Once they actually know me, I'm sure they'll begin to accept it more. At least your father accepted me," he added. You nodded against his chest, propping your chin against it and looking up at him. His balaclava was still off, and he gave you a little smile of his own.

His fingers wiped away your tears, allowing you to press back against his chest and breathe deeply. Your tears had stopped, but you still felt so hurt. Your own flesh and blood, and they didn't like him. Clint was supposed to be your older brother, the Alpha who protected you. Not hurt the people you loved.

Your hurt turned to anger, pulling away from Simon. "If that motherfucker touches you again, I swear to god," and he shook his head. In the dark, you couldn't see much of his face. You hoped to god that Clint hadn't left any marks, you weren't sure what you'd do if you found out he had.

"Weren't the best punches I've ever had," he told you. "I've had worse, lovie. I promise you that nothings hurt," and you nodded carefully. His hands cupped your cheeks, pressing a gentle kiss against your lips.

When he pulled back, you whined and he gave a chuckle. "I'll give you more when we get back to the hotel," he told you. You nodded, letting him slide your arms through his jacket and zip it up.

"I love you," you whispered as he opened the passenger door. He pressed another kiss against your lips, squeezing your hand.

"And I love you," he responded. Closing the door, he went around the car and got back in. You watched as the lights flashed across his face, allowing yourself to soak in how he looked.

When you got to the hotel, he opened your door for you and offered a hand. Holding it tightly, he led you to the room. When he slid the key against the door, he opened it for you and led you in by the small of your back.

Kicking the door shut, he pulled you in and kissed you once more. "Bravest little Omega I've ever met," he whispered against your lips and you laughed. "Going to protect me from all the Alphas?" And you nodded, tears of laughter brimming your eyes.

With one more kiss to your lips, he tugged you against his chest. Gently rocking you once more, your arms wrapped around him as much as they could.

"Love you so damn much, Doc," he whispered against your hair.

"'n I love you, Si,"

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#simon riley x reader #fluff #hurt/comfort #violence #fights #cod mw2 #task force 141 #modern warfare ii #call of duty #call of duty x reader #ghost mw2 #simon riley #pregnant reader #pregnancy #braxton hicks #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #no use of y/n #alpha! ghost

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undercoverpena · 1 year

Text

helen. simon.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader Warnings: angst. smut. preestablished situationship. blowjobs. war/wounds. Wordcount: 4.3k Rating: 18+, Explicit. AN: Helen isn't the reader's real name. masterlist for ghost.

“Helen, you copy?”

You press the radio, grab a pair of gloves and throw a tub of utensils on your tray.

Because if he was radioing ahead, it was bad.

“Ghost, you know that’s not my alias.”

“It suits you.”

Clutching the radio, you roll your tongue over your teeth. “Am I dealing with your handiwork or someone else’s?”

“You’re a medic, Helen. Not a coroner.”

“Ever the gentleman. How far?”

He didn’t answer, because of course he fucking didn’t.

The doors of your makeshift medic tent were forced open with a crack, watching Ghost carrying in a bleeding Soap. The radio in your hand quickly discarded, the gloves snapping against your wrist and fingers as you move closer, eyeing up the work.

Ghost nods in your direction once he placed Soap down with a groan, you roll your eyes, walking towards them.

You pull your tray on wheels close. “Boo, how did you let this happen to him?”

Your fingers brush over stained scarlet fabric, taking the scissors from the tray to begin cutting Gaz’s clothes free from his shoulder.

“You’re supposed to be looking after him—“

“—I’m right here—“ Soap protests.

But you continue, as if he didn’t speak. “—Through and through?”

“Affirmative,” Ghost says, your eyes glancing to his as he holds your stare.

Nodding, you look down, offering a comforting smile. “This isn’t going to be a tickle.”

“I trust you, Doc,” Soap groans.

“Probably the best decision you’ve made,” you comment, grabbing some alcohol to disinfect.

Soap hisses as the alcohol hits, and your gloved fingers spread quickly over the site, your hand swapping the bottle for a needle.

“Slow breaths for me, MacTavish,” you smile, beginning your work.

Stitching is easy. Even if you’re being watched like a hawk.

You’re neat, gentle—that’s what you’re told anyway.

For you, it’s one of the nicer parts of your job for saying what you were ordered to do. Which makes you wonder why you were called ahead.

It’s normally worse, much worse.

The only explanation you can think of, is because of the person bringing Soap in wanted you to know he’d be here. That his presence would be around yours.

“You’re gentler than I imagined,” Soap mumbles.

Your lips curl into a smirk, glancing at him as you place your needle down to wipe the blood from the site. “Not the first time I’ve heard that.”

“No?”

Shaking your head, dropping the stained cotton wool in a bowl as you briefly catch Ghost’s eyes before meeting Soap’s. “No. But don’t make it a habit of ending up here. It’s my choice to be gentle.”

There’s something about hearing a certain kind of laugh come from you.

When it used to be for him, it was bliss.

It was everything. It was like light, and warmth—both a beautiful mix of the sun and the moon, one warming his bones and one guiding him home.

It’s for that reason when he hears your laugh and he’s not in the room—that bothers him.

He’s aware he has no right.

Nothing should compel him to feel anything. He’s not jealous, because there’s nothing that ties him into being jealous. He’s a lone wolf, he doesn’t grow attachments.

Ghost doesn’t even show his goddamn face.

You are not his—he is not yours.

Something the two of you came to the conclusion of last time. Just two entities that seem to find one another across battlefields and missions.

Even if—truthfully—this time, he’s the one who recommended you. The one who made you be here.

Your list of skills were important, necessary. That’s what he told Price, his exact words if he remembers. A medic, a hacker, and a great shot if needed.

Most of all, he likes you close—likes knowing you are safe.

He shouldn’t.

His past enough evidence to showcase why he shouldn’t let people get close, why he should keep you far away from him. But, he can’t.

You being one of the few who have seen him—all of him. He hadn’t known your name when you’d cleared the tent, waiting to ask him what he needed.

It was the care, that made him move. There had been no other reason. Most, if not all, knew his identity was a secret. You having being briefed, most likely, and yet while that was enough of an explanation as to why you cleared the room, you still ensured it was.

It’s why he let his hands guide your fingers to remove his mask that first time, the blood from his gash coating both of your fingers until the mask was removed. He remembers how warm your eyes were even now and then how quickly they switched to being practical. To the small things like turning him fully from the view of the door to cleaning and stitching him.

Ghost had been sure you could hear his heart with how close you stood. How your thighs were on either side of his knee as you closed the cut on his forehead from his fall. If you did hear, you said nothing.

Turning from him when you were done and saying you can put your spare on now, Simon.

You rarely used his name.

Almost as though maskless him was Simon, and Ghost was someone else.

He wanted to ask how you knew, who had told you of the spares he kept on his persons. But when you turned, staring into his eyes, he knew you just knew.

And so it was you he sought, practically seeking you like a bullet aiming for a target. You allowed him into your quarters, attending to wounds without the risk of others seeing him.

The name Helen came because he’d heard the talk.

The others discussing you, wondering in loud tones what you looked like under your tactical gear or your scrubs. If your grip would be as firm around their cocks as you were with a needle or scalpel.

He didn’t know what sat in his belly, but it was close to the fire when he sought you out. His mask half lifted as he connected his lips to yours, both needing to claim you and taste you simultaneously. His arm pulled you clean from the ground, your spine connecting with the door of your quarters as he ripped and stripped you of the few clothes you were wearing.

If he makes himself remember, he can still feel how gentle the pads of your fingers were when they lifted his mask that first time. How your eyes softened, his mask had fallen to the floor before you kissed him.

That’s when he should have known he was fucked, because he went back time and time again.

The two of you kept your distance. Except for the private moments behind watchful eyes, the moments he’d offer you a drink—hand brushing yours. His knee pressed against yours when you sat next to him at the few mealtimes you were able to sit for.

Then it unravelled.

He said things. You said nothing.

One day there, one day not.

Transferred he heard.

He didn’t want to know enough, worried a part of him would try to find you. Telling himself, it was for the best until Price invited him to join.

And then he got you back.

One quick word, and there you were.

All smirks, quick-tongued and glistening eyes once more. His eyes found you across briefings, the corner of your eye meeting his before your lips quirked.

He was content, happy almost… then there was Soap.

Soap let his eyes linger on your face for longer than he needed to. Soap, who made you laugh with ease, who you spoke to without need or cause.

And he’s not jealous.

There’s nothing to be jealous of. He saw to that.

So there's no reason for the anger bubbling inside of him as he stands outside, listening to Soap make you laugh while you check his stitches.

It’s rare to see Soap without Ghost.

For as lone-wolf as he pretends to be, Soap seems harder for him to shake.

It doesn’t shock you when they both walk into the briefings together, when they’re not far from each other. You heard, as did the rest, how good of a team the two of them were.

Bonded, they said.

Betrayal did that too.

Their trays come down, your eyes flicking up as you pull a piece of bread from your roll. They’re bickering about what you aren’t sure about, your focus on eating and not the fact you’ve felt his knee against yours.

The touch, the sign, almost making you lose your breath.

Ghost doesn’t move it, as if it’s purposefully there, wanting you to remember—as if you could ever fucking forget.

You knew what people said, the chatter. But you knew he knew the truth. That you never sought company amongst others. A rule, one you’d broken for him and him alone.

Not that he thought he was worthy of it.

He didn’t need to say it then, as he doesn’t need to now.

Ghost, once he’s let you in, is easy to read.

To some, he’s cold and distant, but it’s the fleeting in-between people miss. It’s also the way everyone else calls you your alias, except him.

They think it’s teasing, him being… Ghost.

But if they listened to the infliction in his voice, it’s not that at all. It’s as close to the way he says your name when he’s buried inside of you; it’s as close to how it sounds when his lips are by your ear, fingers around your neck as he makes your eyes roll in the back of your head.

It’s his way of—

“Chip?” Soap asks, pushing his tray towards you.

Pulling you from your thoughts, you swallow. Sliding your knee more against Ghost’s as you smile, shaking your head to Soap. “I’m good. How’s the arm?”

“Better. Thanks, Doc.”

You nod, dropping the rest of your roll down onto the tray and brushing the crumbs from your fingers.

“I never asked, why does he call you Helen?” Soap asks, jutting his head to the man beside him.

The one who has barely moved his mask to eat, even if his tray is full. You feel his knee move, and your eyes flick to him, finding his on his own tray.

“Helen of Troy,” you reply, just above a whisper, head tilting as you watch Soap’s expression. “The face that launched a thousand ships? I know you know first-hand his odd humour, but I think he really believes he’s being funny.”

“I don’t think it. I am funny.”

You roll your eyes.

“What’s the story behind Boo then?”

You laugh, pushing your tray away. “He’s a ghost from Super Mario. Not as funny or as complimentary, but relatable. While I don’t think he cackles down corridors, he is an annoying fucker who people should learn not to turn their back on.”

It also sounded gentler.

Like a pet name. Something which you’d done purposefully to annoy him, than be affectionate. But it stuck.

Like all things did between the two of you.

Before, you could imagine a life with Simon. The way his eyes soften for a millisecond when they land on you. It’s in those small moments you could have imagined a small home and a dog, maybe a roast on a Sunday and blankets in the winter.

But it’s Ghost who you have in front of you now, and it’s Ghost who drew a line under it all.

Now all of the memories are tainted with bitterness, all twisted reminders of times that weren’t this. Where he kept his distance, and you hardened yourself, so you didn’t close the space.

“Careful,” Ghost comments, his gruff voice silencing the two of you.

Your eyes fall to the table as you stand, smiling.

It wasn’t just that he thought you were beautiful, as to why he called you Helen.

It started as that.

But soon enough, he realised he’d launch a thousand ships for you himself—or, more relatably, in his line of work, make a thousand bullet rain down.

He’d caged it, though. Stuffed it in some dark corner where the rest of his issues were. It was fine there, it was welcomed and perfect.

Then, just as Ghost had managed to stuff it away, it came out when he spotted the enemy on the rooftop. Sneaking around, heading in your direction.

He’d advised against splitting up, even if he’d been overruled. Half of him wanted to yell at anyone and everyone that you shouldn’t even be on out here, not when medics—good medics—were hard to fucking come by.

It's why he doesn’t think when he leaves his place. His body moved without question. His brain knows your radio isn’t working, it’s been crackling, breaking up. At first, he thought you were being you—annoying. Until you called him Ghost in a tone, he didn’t care for.

It fuels him, that tone. His boots hammer into the cobbles as he hears the bullets.

Hand on his radio. “Get to the fountain, Soap. Ambush in progress. Now.”

Barely hearing him reply as his hand grasps his knife, throwing it at the one sneaking up before his arm finds you.

Ghost pulls you close, practically grabbing you; your gasp fills his ears before he throws the two of you through a wooden door.

It splinters around the two of you as you fall to the tiled floor with a thud. Hands on you, pushing you behind the counters as he shields you, pulling your body close.

His chin digs into your neck, heartbeat thundering in his ears, mixing with the bullets puncturing the air, wall, windows and anything else they can touch until silence.

Until nothing.

Both of you waiting, suddenly realising that your hands are around him, gripping his waist with the same intensity until his radio sounds.

“Ghost.”

“Soap,” he replies, feeling you shift, moving from him.

He knows it then.

Knows how fucked he is, especially when you don’t meet his eyes. An achievement which isn’t celebrated by the two of you.

Even if you got it, the hard drive. The thing they’d been seeking.

He avoids you.

Or does his best too. He does so until it’s hard to breathe, the tension thickening in the base each time he passes you, each time he hears someone says your name—your real name.

Not your alias.

Not Helen.

But your actual, fucking name.

The same one he’s moaned himself, the same one he’s whispered when the lights were out, and your body were against his.

You’re like a wound that never heals, and he can’t risk it anymore. Can’t chance bleeding out in front of everyone, not letting this fall apart—not driving you away again.

I don’t think we can be friends.

It’s all he says as he stands near your desk, knowing he’s leaving the base for a mission. Six fucking words that made your head whip up so quick he’s surprised your head remained on your neck.

All he thought was don’t give me the eyes. Don’t give me that fucking look that you do.

And you did.

That look made it hard for him not to take them back, to not close the gap between you and pull you so close and never let you go.

Why?

That’s all you asked.

Throwing your pen down, a little anger to it as your shoulders raised and your jaw tightened.

Why Ghost?

He doesn’t answer.

He just turned on his heels and boarded the plane.

The whole time he felt the answer rolling around his head, sitting on the tip of his tongue like an ulcer that hurt and annoyed him.

On the plane back, it worsened. It made him feel heavy. Worsened by images of that look you gave him, the one so reminiscent of the look you gave him all those years ago.

“You’re hard to be around.”

He watches you lift your head from your book. He didn’t even mean to come to your quarters. But here his boots were, the lamp giving your face a soft glow as he stepped through the open door of your space.

You close the book slowly, running a hand over your face before sighing. “Don’t come to my space then, Ghost.”

He closes your door, taking a long time to turn back to face you, but when he does, he sees it on your face. That same look.

“It’s why I can’t be friends with you. You’re too hard to be around.”

It’s a look which has haunted his dreams and hung in the depths of his nightmares.

“It’s not easy to be around you either,” you reply.

He watches, barely moving as you untangle your legs, slowly standing. For a second, you seem in two minds about whether to close the gap. Fingers twitching at your sides.

“You left.” You left me.

“I transferred.” You gave me no choice.

“Same thing.”

He watches as your chest rises and falls. His fingers move to undo his vest, his belt, throwing it down to take some of the weight off. Your eyes not leaving him.

“You hurt?”

He snorts.

Because no, not where you can fix him.

And he won’t ever admit the rest.

“You don’t have to be an arsehole,” you comment. “It’s a choice. A no is sufficient.”

You move closer before pausing again.

“You still hate me?”

It’s all he can ask.

Your face twisting ever so slightly.

Many wouldn’t notice, but he does. He knows each one of your faces, each twist of a feature and what it means. All the times he’s found himself watching, all of it benefiting him in the end.

But, even if your face is doing one thing, your eyes are doing something entirely different. Mixing between nothingness and pain, shimmering in the low light, transfixing him to the point it takes him a moment to realise you’re in front of him. Your hand on his masked-covered cheek before your thumbs hooks under it.

He lets you run your nails over his stubble, he lets you slide against his jaw as he remains perfectly still. More so when you lift it just above his nostrils, letting the back sit on the tip of his nose before you lift up on your tiptoes and you kiss him.

It’s instinctive, the way his arm comes around your waist and lifts you off the ground. It’s routine how your arms come around his neck and legs around his waist.

His hand in your hair makes you moan, that sweet, delicious sound he wishes would coat him forever. He wraps what he can in his grip before tugging, biting your bottom lip and saying, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

You pull back from his lips, a look on his face he actually can’t read. This is why you must let your legs go, sliding down him, holding his puzzled gaze as you pull your cami top over your head. His gaze falling temporarily from your face to your bare chest, tracing the front of his teeth with his tongue before watching you snake your fingers into the band of your shorts and underwear.

It feels slow, even if it’s in his head, how you wiggle them down your thighs until they pool at your feet. Standing, bare, exposed just for him.

“I can’t hate you.”

“Come here,” he groans, hunger dripping in his demanding tone.

And you do.

You don’t drag your feet, you willingly move until your body is against him, lips groaning against his as you capture his tongue. Your hands make work of his trousers, his feet stepping out of them as he yanks his t-shirt over his head.

Then you grip his waist and his thighs, sliding down to your knees as you peel his underwear from his skin.

He hisses when you lick a strip up the base of his cock, sliding his hands free from his gloves so he can properly grip his hands in your hair.

Ghost needs to hold onto something as you take him into your mouth, cheeks hollowing, eyes staring up at him, looking every bit his Helen. Your tongue twists around the head, the air painted with gruff moans and hisses all coming from him as you slide your teeth down as much as you can.

He could fuck your throat.

Fuck, he wants to.

Instead, he pulls you to your feet, seeing the disappointment fading as he places you back up and standing.

He expects you to move his mask, to let your fingers trace the parts of his face you rarely see.

But you don’t. You just pull him with you, walking the two of you to your bed before lying down and pulling him with you.

It’s the way he holds you flush to him as if he needs to be inside of you—pulling you close until there’s no space. Your hand sliding between you both, his groan filling the space as you palm his want, his need through thin boxers as he runs his stubble against your neck.

Ghost slides his forehead over yours, the mask likely rough against your skin, eyes burning into him. “You’re never this silent.”

His fingers move from your hips to move his mask, but your hand grasps his wrist. Swallowing.

“I don’t want Simon.”

His head tilts ever so slightly. Suddenly not able to say a thing.

“Not tonight.”

It’s his turn to swallow. “Alright.”

And he lowers his palm to the space beside your head, caging you in.

“Eyes on me,” he says gruffly.

You are a coward.

A very sore coward.

You left Ghost in your room when he fell asleep beside you. You reasoned there was always something to do, and even if you were sure you had bruised bites forming on the inside of your thighs—you needed to keep busy.

Any other day, inventory bored the shit out of you.

Tonight, with the knowledge that a certain Lieutenant had almost made you forget your own name, it was wanted, needed.

A distraction like no other, which is rudely interrupted after only being here an hour.

His mask is back on. His clothes are as neat as they can be for saying they were thrown and discarded in a corner.

“Don’t do that again.”

You almost comment what, but the look, the fact he’s barely put on any black around his eyes, says he’s not in the mood.

"Leave. Don't leave like that again."

You shake your head. “That an order, Lt?”

“Damn right it is,” he says, his tone matching the expression he’s giving perfectly.

You swallow, staring at him. “Don’t do this, Ghost.”

“We’re way past, Ghost, don’t you think.”

Clicking your pen, you place it down with your clipboard, turning your body, so you face him. Properly.

“You’re being cruel,” you say, pulling your chair over as you seat yourself down. "And I know you know that..."

You roll your lips. “You have to be. Because you know how I feel… and yet you’re doing this all over again. I asked you when I first got here, if could we just be friends. And you agreed. And now...”

“I know.”

“So… what is with the knee, and the looks, and… I can’t do this again, Simon, I can’t try and get over you. I’m not that good, I’m not… I’m not that strong. Not for you, not when it comes to you, Simon.”

His eyes flicker.

It taking a moment to register that you said his name.

His real name.

The one you rarely, if ever, used, even behind private walls. Not because you didn’t want to but because it unlocked too much. It opened all of your locked places and unleashed the flurry of dreams and hopes that came with it.

And it’s all made worse by the way he says your name.

It’s soft and horribly gentle. He says your name just then like he’s trying to soothe you, but it just hurts.

It hurts because you love him.

You keep loving him. You try to build walls between the man you love and the person he has to be. It’s why you made him keep the mask on, it’s why you only whispered his real name when he brought you to climax.

It looks, from his expression staring at you, like he’s put the pieces of that puzzle together too, now.

You don’t expect it. Even after all the many versions of Ghost you’ve seen.

But, Ghost slowly lowering onto his knees, and not to spread your thighs, is unique. Especially when he just stares, saying so much without uttering a word.

And then, watching as one hand slides the glove off the other, your eyes following it as he takes your hand in his, clutching it, holding it. Something the two of you have never done outside either of your rooms—in the past or the present.

Slowly, as tears begin to prick, feeling overwhelmed by the silence and the loudness of the moment. Especially as his other hand takes your chin, pulling your face to meet his as he presses his forehead to yours.

It’s simple. Nothing too many.

But to you, it’s everything.

It’s more than a declaration, especially from him. And you get it, your hurt feelings vanishing, disappearing as he wipes a tear from your cheek.

“Okay,” you whisper.

His eyes hold yours. “Okay.”

“It’ll be hard.”

“And worth it.”

You nod, letting a soft smile tug at your lips as he wipes another stray tear. "You may get sick of me, I'm very annoying."

"I already know that." You smirk, and he grips your hand tighter. “Still... you're mine. My Helen.”

You snort, “My Simon.”

masterlist for ghost.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon 'ghost' riley #ghost x reader #cod ghost x reader #ghost cod #simon 'ghost' riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader smut #ghost x reader smut #simon riley #cod ghost x reader smut #cod ghost angst #simon ghost riley #cod mw22 #ghost x female reader #ghost x f!reader

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kamwilliamsonn · 1 year

Text

pretty - Vivianne Miedema

request : here

of which Viv gets a little too drunk at one of Katie's parties

"y/n come join us, please!" Leah pouts at you, asking you to come and join with them.

"I think I should probably stay sober, mate, somebody has gotta look after you lot." You smiled at her, laughing as she slouches herself against you.

She drunkenly points across the room to wear your favourite Dutchie stood, clearly out of her mind. "Think she might need it more than the rest of us."

The blonde was staring over to you and Leah, a small pout on her face, one arm holding a glass that she's drinking far too quickly, while the other is holding onto the table to keep her standing.

You laughed softly and pulled Leah off of you, passing her over to Jen instead, and made your way over to Viv.

She hadn't even noticed you make your way over until you had plucked the glass from her hand.

"Hey, pretty, let's get you home, ey?" You mumbled softly, putting your arm around her waist.

Her head instantly leans down onto your shoulder - it was a struggle because she was a little taller than you - and nods tiredly. "y/n/n, I'm sleepy." She mutters out and you smile down at her.

"Hey, everyone! I'm gonna take Viv home, does anybody else want a lift?" Beth instantly took the invite and headed towards your car, climbing in the back seat while you help Viv into the front.

Ever the animated drunk, Beth talks to you the whole way to her house, only having her seatbelt on because you had forced her to.

Viv, on the other hand, sat quietly in the front seat - a comfort-loving drunk - her hand was resting on your knee, as she stared at you driving, her eyes flickered all over you, ignoring every word that Beth said.

Beth was the first to be dropped off, you walk her up to her door, your eyes flicking to Viv in the car, making sure that she didn't do anything dumb.

You grab her keys from her hands for her and unlock the door, watching as she collapsed onto the sofa and falls asleep instantly.

You grab two aspirin from your bag and grab her a bottle of water, leaving them on the coffee table next to her.

"Goodnight, Beffy." You mumble softly before leaving the house, shutting the door behind you and making sure it locks.

When you get back to the car, Viv is practically crying in her seat.

You instantly sit down and shut the door. "Hey, what's wrong?" You ask her, only to be met with silence. "Vivianne." You warn her softly, letting her know she should answer.

She looks over to you, and the pout and tears almost make you start crying yourself. "I thought you forgot about me." She mumbles.

You lean over and give her a soft kiss on her forehead. "I would never."

That makes the tears stop, her hand instantly goes back to your knee, drumming a little beat as you pull your seatbelt on and start the car once more.

Once you arrive at her house, you ask her for your keys, and see the tears form once more. "I left them inside. And Beth is the only person with a spare key."

"That's okay. It's okay, don't cry. You can crash at mine and we'll get your key from Beth in the morning, how does that sound?"

The blonde nods softly, a pout still on her face as you start the car again.

The moment you pull up at your house, you shut the car off completely, pulling your keys out.

You get out of your side and walk around to Viv's side. You unlock the door and help her out, wrapping your arm around her waist once more.

Her head drops into the crook of your neck and in her drunken state she starts to press soft kisses.

Your breath hitches softly as you try and ignore it, walking her up your steps, unlocking your door with your left hand - it wasn't easy.

You walked her up to your bedroom - you'd use the guest, your bed was nicer and you didn't want Viv to be uncomfortable - and found a pair of jogging bottoms and a t-shirt that would fit her before placing them on your bed.

"I'm gonna grab myself some clothes and go get changed in the guest room, then, I will bring you some aspirin and some water, and you will go to sleep. Understand?"

"Can't you stay with me?"

"Do you really want me to?"

"Yes. Really." She nods energetically. "You're pretty, I wanna share the bed with a pretty girl."

"You're so drunk."

You still ended up getting changed in the other room, and she got changed in yours, you went to bed with her in your arms.

And the next morning, even with your hair a mess, and a little dribble dripping down your chin, she still thought you were the most gorgeous girl in the world.

And even with a pounding headache she made sure to tell you. Her head once more resting in the crook of your neck as she mumbled to you,

just how pretty you were.

What do you think? I feel like the writing sucks a little, and it could have been written better, but I adore the idea so- yay :)

#woso imagine #woso x reader #woso #woso imagines #vivianne miedema imagine #vivianne miedema x reader #vivianne miedema #viv miedema #arsenal #arsenal wfc #kamden writes

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ventismacchiato · 1 year

Text

19 just playing the part — with the taste of your lips i’m on a ride !

scaramouche x g!n reader

You awkwardly stand outside your dorm building, hands in your pockets trying to hide in the darkness. You looked like you were someone’s side piece in your joggers. It was probably best if you didn’t seem like you tried to dress yourself up, and for Scaramouche out of all people.

A sleek car pulled up near you and you instinctively averted eye contact, assuming it was some pervert. The horn started blaring and you were about to go back inside the building when the top of the car rolled down, showing a disgruntled Scaramouche in the driver’s seat.

“Why the fuck are you ignoring me?” he called out, waving you over with his hand.

You make your way over, tucking yourself into the passenger’s seat.

“I thought you were some creep,” you explain, eyeing the interior of the convertible as Scaramouche rolls the top back up.

“As if someone would try to creep on you when you’re wearing that,” he scoffs, hands on the steering wheel as he starts the car back up, “Put your fucking seatbelt on.”

“What did you expect me to wear?” you say, feeling around for the seatbelt, “Why do you have such a nice car?”

“It isn’t mine,” he answers, gesturing to the keychain hanging on the rearview mirror of a penis with a face embroidered onto it, “Why would I hang that up on my mirror?”

“It’s kind of funny,” you shrug.

He gives you a side-eye.

After what seems like forever, but in reality, was just a ten-minute drive, he pulls in front of the nicer dorms. He turns the engine off, silently getting out and you follow, not knowing what to say to fill in the silence.

He comes around to your side of the vehicle and walks ahead for a bit before stopping, looking back, and furrowing his brows.

“Are you coming or not?”

“You were so quiet I didn’t know what to do,” you huff, following behind him.

“Do you need me to instruct you on everything?” he states, pulling out his ID as you got near the doors to scan you both in, shoving you in first.

“Finally bringing someone home?” a sultry voice calls out, you turn to see a blue-haired male sitting by the reception desk, raising up his fist in what you assumed to be solidarity.

“Shut the fuck up, Kaeya,” Scara grumbles, grabbing you by your elbow and tugging you along.

“Who is that?” you question as Scaramouche lets go of your sleeve to lead you down the hall.

“The annoying RA,” Scaramouche answers, making a left.

“Is Childe going to be there when we…?” you trail off, still feeling awkward about what you both were planning to do.

“Are you into exhibitionism?” he teases, finally stopping in front of the door near the hallway, “And no, he’s at a football camp for the weekend.”

“How do you even know what that kink is when you’ve never had sex?” you tease back, watching as he flips through the multiple keys on his keyring.

He gives you a brief look before finally finding the correct key, “I’d prefer to fuck someone who meets my standards, if I die a virgin because of that then so be it.”

“Are you admitting you’re waiting until you are in love to fuck?” you tease, following behind him and into his apartment.

You slide your shoes off and trail behind him as he leads you in. It’s much nicer than your dorm, and you marvel at the sight of the kitchen. All you’d been given was a mediocre microwave that hardly worked half the time.

He leads you to the living room, sitting on the couch and patting the spot next to him. You tentatively sit down, hands in your lap as you look around.

“Nice place,” you nod, not knowing what else to say.

“Anything is nice compared to the shitty dorms,” he replies, leaning back against the couch and manspreading beside you.

“Just take the compliment,” you sigh, tugging on your hoodie strings. You didn’t quite know what to do with your hands at the moment.

Scaramouche turns to you, tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek as he contemplated his next few words.

“Should we just fucking get to it or what?”

You can’t help but let out a laugh, which in turn causes him to give you a bewildered look.

“That isn’t really romantic,” you chuckle.

“This isn’t supposed to be romantic,” he counters.

“But we should be in character,” you insist, gesturing to the both of you.

“An apartment shared by two college men isn’t romantic.”

“It can be!” You insist.

“Fine,” he sighs, reaching over to the dimmer and turning down the lights, “Is this better? Should I light some candles?”

“This will do because I know you don't own candles.”

“This is better because I can’t see your face,” he says, giving you a fleeting look before stripping himself of his jacket, “You’re going to have to come closer.”

“Why don’t you come closer?”

“You’re so aggravating,” he grumbles, but abides by your request and slides himself across the couch until your thighs are touching.

“We have to be facing each other,” you say, “Our necks will hurt if we do it like this.”

“What do you suggest then?”

You pat your thighs half-heartedly.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding, why do I have to sit on you?” he questions, narrowing his eyes at you.

“You’re wearing jeans and I’m wearing sweats, my lap is more comfortable,” you explain, gesturing to the sweatpants you bought in highschool years ago.

He eyes your lap which makes you squirm. If you didn’t want to be here all night you were going to have to break the tension.

“It’s just practice,” you reassure, reaching out to grab his shoulder, and giving it a light tap.

He lets you touch him before finally complying and hooking his legs over and across until he was situated on top of you, legs wrapped around your waist, and letting out a huff of annoyance.

“This is a humiliating position,” he complains, but makes no move to get off.

“What if one day you have to play the part of a bottom?” you laugh, the feeling of his weight above you confusing your body. It felt sort of nice.

“Shut up,” he says, reaching for your hand and placing one on his waist and the other on his shoulder, “Let’s just get it over with so we can eat.”

“Close your eyes,” you instruct.

“How do I find your lips if I close them? You close them.”

“I never considered that.”

“This is fucking complicated.”

“It can’t be that hard,” you insist, more to yourself than him, you had no idea what you were doing.

“Do you trust me?”

“Not really.”

He raises a brow at you.

“Okay fine, I do.”

Being this close to him you were able to take him in, like the way Scaramouche looked like a literal cat? With his dark hair held back that framed his face, and his slanted eyes, perfectly accentuated by the sharp angle of his eyebrows. His pointed nose and surprisingly full pink lips. Not a blemish in sight.

Maybe you should have cleaned up a little bit before he picked you up.

Scaramouche’s eyes are on yours then they flicker towards your lips for a quick second, silently asking for permission.

All of a sudden Scaramouche is leaning in, finger under your chin to tilt your face up to his and you let your other hand make its way to the back of his neck. The last thing you see before shutting your eyes are Scaramouche’s lips, which fall open gently the moment he leans in to kiss you.

The distance between you two is close and Scaramouche’s lips are soft against your own. Your body, tense from anticipation, crumbles into the abandon. The beat of Scaramouche’s heart is loud against your own chest, emotions lodged in your throat, and soft indigo hair curling through the spaces between your fingers.

Scaramouche’s palm is callused and warm against your face, careful as his thumb caresses your jaw. It takes a while for the two of you to find your rhythm, a bit awkward as you try to let your faces fit against one another.

The kiss sparks and fizzles and you pull back to catch your breath, eyes open to catch Scara chasing your lips again. And you let him, extra practice never hurt anybody.

He tastes like a faint berry and you let yourself become lost in it, just like your character would, before pulling back once again. You let yourself breathe as Scara slowly leans back, eyes on yours as you both process the last few minutes.

Your hands are still on his waist and his are still on your shoulders, a hairsbreadth apart.

“Your lips are pretty chapped,” Scaramouche states, breaking the silence.

“I bite them a lot it’s a bad habit, alright?”

“I could tell since you kept biting mine.”

“Why do you taste like berry, are you wearing chapstick?”

“Yeah, something you should’ve worn.”

“You seemed to enjoy it.”

“Edward enjoyed it,” Scaramouche corrects, retracting his hands and pulling himself off of you, “Not me.”

“At least it’s finally over with,” you nod, stretching your arms over your head. Your stomach felt funny, from butterflies or hunger was the question.

“Any notes?” Scaramouche asks from beside you, running a hand to fix his now disheveled hair.

“As in?”

“Like what can I improve on?”

“I don’t have anything to compare it to so I don’t know,” you truthfully say, “You were fine though.”

You both grow quiet again.

“Do you like pasta?”

“I guess so.”

“Alright,” he muses, standing up and making his way to the kitchen, “Cus it’s either that or ramen. And I’m not feeding you again.”

You have nothing else to do so you stand up behind him and follow him like a lost puppy, situating yourself by the bar as Scaramouche ties an apron around his waist.

“Do you need help?” you ask, more out of politeness since you didn’t really know what to do in a kitchen.

He gives you a look as he begins to turn the stove on, “Can you cook?”

“No.”

“How have you survived college this far?”

“Takeout.”

Scaramouche gives you a disinterested look before going to the fridge and grabbing a pepper, sliding you a cutting board and knife, and gesturing to it, crossing his arms. You swallow your nerves.

You slowly grab for it and the pepper, slicing the pepper terribly under Scaramouche’s judgmental stare.

“You’re hopeless,” Scaramouche grumbles, making his way to come behind you and place his hand on yours and the other on the pepper. His chest was against your back as he started explaining how to cut the pepper in your ear while simultaneously berating you. You couldn’t focus on the mini-lecture he was giving with how low his voice was near your ears.

“Did any of that go into your thick skull?” Scara questions, letting go of your pepper and eyeing it.

“I tried,” you lamely defend.

“It’s decent, but we can’t use it because you didn’t wash your hands.”

You fight the urge to point the knife at him.

just playing the part !

masterlist — prev | next

synopsis: you and scaramouche are both drama majors and have been at each other’s throats vying for the same lead roles since high school. but when you’re both cast as each other’s love interest in your second year you’re forced to be civil with your academic rival and see him in a new light. are his feelings for you true or is he just playing the part?

taglist-open!: @monochromaticelliot @kaedear @stxrgxzxr @shirmxie @elakari @lacy-lady @linn-a-a @one-offmind @kithewanderingme @quepasoash @leathernourishingshoepolish @mangobee @lxry-chxn @dameofthorns @scarasaver @kythe1a @elysiasbae @hikaru-exe @tokkishouse @raiihoshii @cherrybeomgyu @kunikuzushiit @thenightsflower @lilneps @goodthingimsam @lovelyiez @euhla @beriiov @abvolat @kittycasie @b0bafl0wer @bubblyclouds @atlatcaheart @artssleepy @baelloraa @tartagli-yuh @satowaluverr @hangesextra @scaranaris-lil-niko @caffinatedcoma @wheneverthesunrise @hajimeseyo @itsyourgirlria @hyunrei @redactedhimbo @caliginous-skies @vinskyspuff @miissfortune @criminalinthemaking @scaramouches-girlfriend [1/2]

author’s notes: stole the kiss scene from one of my fics 🫡 i tried to make it nice but also awkward 😭 hope you enjoyed you horny fucks 📸🤨 lmk ur thoughts in rbs, asks, and replies! and tag list is open again but send an ask cus i miss replies a lot 💔

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soupbabe · 7 months

Text

Unfit (OPLA! Klahadore/Kuro x Fat! Reader)

While Kaya offered up her expansive collection of clothes, Reader can't find something that fits them.

Self indulgent fic time babey!! It's been rough lately, I've really been wanting to write something like this.

Warnings: Insecure reader, lil bit of angst and out of character comfort from Klahadore<3

Standing alone in front of a mirror, you frowned. You're sure Kaya had good intentions in providing you and your crew nicer clothes. Her wardrobe is so big that you can't blame her when she insisted that you'd find something. Yet, her kind words didn't stop the growing pile of pants you couldn't button all the way next to you. Taking a deep, but shakey breath, you took off the piece of clothing and added it to the neatly folded stack that hid behind a privacy screen. The evening was supposed to be fun, easy. All you had to do was be on your best behavior until Luffy and Usopp secured the ship. Even Nami and Zoro were able to let loose with some drinks and a fashion show. Instead, you're curling in on yourself, in your underwear, and trying not to lose it over a pair of pants.

Though, left on your lonesome, negative thoughts spiral quickly. Mumbling reassurance evolved into scolding. "You're supposed to be a pirate. Pirates don't care about shit like this. They don't care about pants..." You felt your face burn in embarrassment. Seeing everyone grab all the clothes they wanted and it'd fit like a glove made you feel delusional, stupid.

A gentle knock on the wall made the neck on your hair stand straight. "Hello? Y/n?" A smooth voice called out. You froze in place, eyes wide at the realization: It's Klahadore. Swiftly wiping away at your eyes, you took a deep breath and responded from behind a privacy screen. "I'm here." "Dinner starts in 5 minutes, everyone is expecting you to join us. You're not plotting something, are you?" Jolting, you reach out and try to put on the shorts you walked into the mansion with. Though in your panic, you tripped over a pant leg and knocked over both the tower of clothes you laid out before and the privacy screen that hid you from the butler's view.

A small gasp emitted from Klahadore as he peered down at you on the floor, your pants barely hanging onto your hips. "My word.. are you alright?" You laid there frozen in terror, hesitant to take the hand he reached out. Your gaze was glued to the ground, the embarrassment was just too much. You wanted to sink into the walls of dresses and jackets and suffocate beneath the satin. A gloved hand traced the outline of your face until it held a firm grip on your chin. Tilting your face upwards until your eyes met his, Klahadore spoke up. "I asked if you're alright. If I'm not mistaken, I told you to dress nice too and you're in the same clothes you came in here with. What's taking you so long?" His questions felt like demands, as if you're being interrogated. His voice sent shivers down your spine, everything he says is tactful. Like he wants you to shake under his gaze. Swallowing the lump in your throat and your pride, you speak up. "I couldn't find anything to wear... nothing fit." Your voice grew dim towards the latter half of your admission, but that's what all it took for Klahadore to smile, to be pleased with you answering back.

As he withdrew your hand, your face burned bright. With any luck, you'd faint and no longer have to talk to him. "I was worried of that happening. Unfortunately, Miss Kaya shot down the idea of giving you extra clothing from the servant quarters." He tilted his head to get a better look at your puffy eyes and flushed face. "Is there anything else I should know about?" "Nothing.." "I don't like liars, Y/n. Tell me what's on your mind." His tone, while commanding, felt softer. It's like he's butler first, human later. He's only being kind after getting what he wanted after you.

"I'm just tired of not fitting into things...no matter what I try, I'll always be too big for stuff." You scowled. "I just..I just want to look nice. I want to look and feel good like Zoro or Nami. I don't want servant clothes, Kaya promised we'd look our best and I want to actually feel like it." You felt your nose sting and your eyes water. Klahadore watched you intently, hearing your voice increase in anger and intensity. Taking out a handkerchief, the ex pirate captain wiped away the tears that highlighted your chubby cheeks.

"While I don't have the means to provide you with what you want specifically, I want you to stay here. I'll be back in a minute." He sat you down on the ottoman that sat in the middle of the room and vanished into the dark hallway. However, Klahadore was a man of his word. Within seconds he returned with a folded outfit in hand: black dress pants and a white button up shirt. On top of the outfit though, were a couple of jewelry boxes. Inside revealed a golden necklace with the silhouette of a cat and a matching ring with a similar insignia. "Consider it a gift. It's something I've held onto before Miss Kaya's parents took me in, I think it's time for me to let it go." His smile was small, genuine.

Klahadore waiting outside patiently as you tried on the clothes he's given you. From outside the screens, he could hear a rollercoaster of emotions: fear, disbelief, enjoyment. "Did I choose right for you?" He asked, to which you strutted out to answer his question. Your shirt was tucked in, though largely unbuttoned to show off your chest and most importantly, the necklace. "How does it fit?" You spun around and Klahadore drank in the view. You never hid your curvy figure, only accentuated it. While he holds himself to a high standard, he can't admit that it didn't drive him mad.

He walked up and smoothed down the wrinkles on your shirt, his touch lingering on your shoulders and soft waist. "Fits like a glove." He stood tall wants more and linked his arm with yours. "Now, it's almost time for dinner. It'd be a shame to keep Miss Kaya waiting."

#klahadore #Klahadore x reader #one piece klahadore #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece live action #captain kuro #Captain kuro x reader #x fat reader #plus size reader #x chubby reader

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misguidedasgardian · 1 year

Text

The Winter Sun (24)

24. SnowStorm

MASTERLIST

Summary: An unknown ray of hope

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Fem!Targaryen Reader

Warnings: Cursing, medieval and asoiaf customs, AGE GAP, Cregan is 12 years OLDER than reader), arranged marriage, war, and all that comes with it, implied forced imprisonment, and implied non-con, pregnancy, angst, might miss some warnings

+18, MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 3 k

Notes: I don't know what is gotten inside of me, I'm inspired hehehe, remember that the timing on this has been paced by x3 haha

Nobody talked to you, nobody told you anything, but you could tell something was wrong, very, very wrong.

People seemed nervous and skittish, Aemond was gone for most part of the day, and night, he left you alone, and you took the opportunity to relax in your bed

You were grieving, but it was so hard, you had no process, no nothing, Cregan was far away, and suddenly he was dead, but you couldn’t process it, you couldn’t even think about it

A single tear fell down your eye as you touched your belly

Was it Cregan’s? or was it Aemond’s?

You couldn’t possibly know

Yes you had bled, but the maester said it was common having a little spotting in early stages of pregnancy… but still… you were showing up quite early if you were to believe it was Aemond’s

But you couldn’t help but wonder…

You guessed you had to wait until it was born.

You hoped it was a girl but… if it was Cregan’s you doubted Aemond was going to let you keep it, you could only pray that he would take the time to take it to Winterfell where she or he could be safe… but if it was his…

You cried louder

Once you stopped crying and were laying on your bed, Aemond entered the room

“I have news”, he said, his voice sounded strangled, you sat on the bed and looked at him wide-eyed

“What?”, you asked

“I will take you out of here”, he said, like it was good news, perhaps they were

“Are we going to King’s Landing?”, you asked, your voice plain

“No, I’m taking you to your home in the Vale”, that really surprised you

“What?”, you asked, not believing him

“I’m already making the arrangements”, he said, he was serious, but not like always, he did not have that superiority demeanor that always accompanied him

“And King’s Landing?”

“No”, he answered sharply, he wouldn’t tell you anything, a war had broken outside these walls and you didn’t even know what was happening, but one thing soothed you… If Aemond was here, he was not in the field, possibly killing members of your family.

The love of your life and father to your babies might be dead, but at least, at least, with your personal sacrifice, you could help your family in gathering and preparing, distracting the man with the biggest dragon in the world

it was a consolation

But not knowing what was going on outside those wretched walls did make you feel uneasy, the fact that Aemond was here the entire time made you believe that rather things were going terribly well with the Greens, or he was out of it completely

Aemond after looking deep into your face, prepared to leave

“What happened?”, you asked him, and then he looked at you, his eye then fell to your belly

“You are with my child, this is a terrible and dark place, you need to be in a more nicer place, if we want the child and you to thrive”, he said so seriously, like he was talking about a political arrangement

You wanted to remind him that it was Cregan’s baby, but you stopped yourself, one because you didn’t want him to… “get rid of it” as he threatened you he would do, and two, you weren’t even sure.

“When?”, you asked

“Tomorrow”, he said shortly, and then he abandoned your room.

You were almost blinded when you took a step outside, having seen the sunlight directly in months. You almost had forgotten what the clear, pure air smelt like, being trapped in that hellish room. Some days you thought you had lost your mind.

But here you were

You should be happy that you are going back to your own home, some place you had the advantage in, but then… the advantage for what exactly?

Trying to kill him again?

That would backfire terribly

Trying to escape?

And where would you go? back to Winterfell? your loved ones would pay the price of your actions, you knew it.

And if it was Aemond’s baby?

You whimpered when you realized… there was no way out of this, of him…

Vhagar roared in front of you both to prove it, in a greeting, and she made you tremble. Aemond grabbed your hand and led you towards her, your own dragon wasn’t even in sight, Aemond helped you up the ropes first and then he followed you closely.

Under normal circumstances you would be on the other side of the castle away from this wretched beast, but you didn’t want to fight, you didn’t want to upset him.

You accommodate yourself in the saddle, and Aemond arranged the leather straps around your thighs carefully and then he chained himself to the saddle, you felt him at your back his hand surrounded you to take the reins

You didn’t miss his fingers ghosting over your belly.

Vhagar was heavy and slow and yet, she took flight easily. Soon you were in the skies, the last time you had done so, was when you surrender yourself to Aemond

You leaned back, your body fully pressed against Aemond, trying to push up your own body was making you have a cramp, and you didn’t have the strength to endure one, not right now.

Aemond smiled, he took to the skies, with you in his arms, your body leaning completely on his, his baby in your belly, he felt like the King of the world, and how could he not?

“When I’m in the skies… it feels that this is where I belong”, he whispered in your ear, “specially with you in my arms”

And the funny thing is, you also felt the same when you were in the skies.

“This is why they say Targaryen are closest to gods than to men”, you said back, wanting to avoid the subject

The flight was longer than you had expected, Vhagar being slow. Or perhaps it was the company that made it dreadfully tiring

You were glad the wind made it difficult to sustain a conversation.

You wondered how Aemond knew exactly where your home was, but you tried not to dwell on it too much, for your own peace of mind.

Vhagar landed heavily on the ground, right in front of it. It was just like you remembered, from four years ago when you escaped the Red Keep when… When Aemond tried to pressure you into giving him your maidenhead

People started coming out of the castle, to your surprise, they didn’t even seem surprised to see Vhagar there, they had been expecting you… although… The people, your own people, seemed scared to see you, you remembered some of them, specially from when you escaped the Red Keep and spend here a couple of months, but they even dare to look at you

Perhaps this what Aemond had meant when he said “he had already made the arrangements”, meaning terrorize the servants of the castle out of their loyalty to you

The Vale was loyal to Rhaenyra, he surely needed to make sure nobody was going to open their mouths about you being here.

“It is quite beautiful”, Aemond said, placing his hands on your hips, encouraging you to enter your childhood home, where your father had raised you with his kindness and his love. You were sad it had to be tainted by Aemond, and what he was going to keep doing to you

You entered your home slowly, drinking everything in, you had missed it, it had huge windows and wide, colorful, sunlit rooms. It wasn’t as big as the seven great castles, but… it was a castle nonetheless

He walked the halls as he knew them, perhaps he had been here in your absence, and that made you even more scared, about how deranged Aemond was

You wanted to go towards your room, but Aemond continued down the corridor towards what it was your father’s old room

“Aemond”, you called, “that is…”

“The master bedroom of this castle I took”, he said, opening the double doors, signaling for you to enter behind him.

You weren’t fazed to enter the room, your father’s things had been taken away years ago, and.. you don't quite remember it from your childhood when he was alive.

The room had huge windows, a balcony, a huge bed freshly made, you could tell, a table with chairs in one corner, and nightstands on each side of the huge bed with a wood canopy.

“I could get accustomed to this”, Aemond said, you didn’t look at his face, but you could picture perfectly his smug face, “you, and me, reigning our small castle, with an army of silver haired children”, you sighed, already tired of his fantasy, you walked towards the windows and looked over at the sea and the risks of the Vale. You placed your hand on the window, longing for freedom, even though you wouldn’t know what to do with it.

Cregan was gone.

You felt the bed move behind you, and you turned around to see Aemond sitting on the edge of the bed. He taped the mattress by his side

“I want to feel you”, he moaned, and you only walked towards him, surrendering yourself to him, so broken to even fight him on this

What you didn’t know is that the greatest army the North has ever seen, had been gathering, marching from every corner to the coldest realm, already recuperated from the Winter, and ready to eliminate any threat to the reign of Rhaenyra Targaryen.

The Northerner Army met in Caitlin’s Vale, all around the castle of the same name.

Nobody knew who was going to lead said army. They had been called by Lord Roderik, to avenge their Lord, and they had all answered to the call.

For avenging Lord Cregan Stark.

Cregan

The huge camp was a sight to behold, each house of the North, the great one and the smaller ones, all of them had come.

And as their leaders met in the middle, to discuss strategy and where they were going to meet the Knights of the Vale, the remains of the Winter Wolves marched into the camp, leading them, as a hooded figure.

Every soldier made way for the huge stallion that led the main leaders of the small army, as they bowed their heads, they didn’t know who it was, but the bare figure demanded respect

The leaders of the Great army both payed attention to the group approaching, and it was only when they were in front of them, that Cregan removed his hood, revealing himself to the camp amongst gasps and cheers

“CREGAN CREGAN CREGAN!”, they started chanting for their Lord

“They embushed us!”, he shouted, “they burnt us! and yet… we are here!”, he said, to everyone’s cheers, “Aemond Targaryen, the Kinslayer, has taken my wife, the Lady of Winterfell, his brother the usurper, has taken our Queen’s throne!”, he said and he heard them booing, “For our burnt fathers and brothers, for your lady of winterfell, for the justice for the traitors, WE MARCH!”

With those words the army was fired up to march south, to kill every Green that stands in their way, to recuperate you

Cregan joined the leaders in the main tent.

“This time, we will not be alone”, he said firmly, “Daemon Targaryen and his dragon will meet us in the Crossroads Inn, he said, pointing to a map, but we, before that, we will join the Knights of the Vale, right about there as well”

“And the Rogue Prince will take care of the dragon?”, asked Lord Cerwyn

“That is what is expected, yes”, said Cregan.

“Is the Lady (Y/N) going to be in Harrenhal?”, asked another

“Our job is to take the castle, the real battle will be after we take Harrenhal and march souther still

“This is the greatest army the Seven Kingdoms has ever seen!”, said Lord Roderik, “it is impossible that we are going to march undetected through the Riverlands”

“In that case, the Baratheons and the Royal army of traitors will be there to meet us”, said Cregan, “and that will work to our advantage, it will save us a trip, we end half of the Green forces in one attack, they will have no chance against us”

The determination of their lord inspired all the men, this time, they will not fail

And so they started the slow march, as their number tripled the one of the last time, the pace was three times slower.

Cregan wanted them to know, he wanted all his enemies in one place, to kill them all at once. You were the only thing on his mind.

This was going to take him months, much to his dismay, but he knew his Queen held the Capital, he knew his son and his home was safe, and he knew you were alive, that monster might take you, but he wouldn’t harm you or he would have learnt about it by now.

You were waiting for him, he knew it

It was all that kept him sane, the thought of you, waiting for him.

It was in moments like this he wished he could fly, just like you, he wished to be strong just like you, his beautiful wife, mother of his child.

He wondered if you thought he was dead, he really didn’t hope so, although he knew the Kinslayer would have told you. He wondered if you were pregnant with his baby, he was sure you were when he left you in Winterfell, he had learnt to know you and your beautiful body.

He sighed as he saw his army march from over a hill

The only thing he wanted to do was to have you by his side, cuddling you, and his son on his chest, your pregnant belly pressed against him.

Soon, he thought

Aemond looked at you, you yourself were looking at the window, touching your big belly, he could not tell if what he felt in his chest was something good or something bad, it was a crippling feeling, a burn so intense he believed it could burn him whole.

He had to leave you for a few weeks, having to go to the battlefield, but his return was swiftly. His brother, the King, was missing, his mother was captured, his grandfather executed, and his other brother…

They said he died on his successful campaign as his burning tent fell on top of him, others say he was murdered in his nightshirt by a myrnise.

Anyways, they were losing this war

The only front that was winning was the seafront on the East, and the Lannister Army on the West, this was not lost yet, but his sister, was also a prisoner of Rhaenyra, he was scared of what they might do to her after the murder of his nephew,

And rumors had reached them that a huge Northerner army was marching from the North, he was longing to face them on the battlefield, to burn that wretched country once and for all.

He did not feared them, for they had no one to lead them, the last remaining Stark couldn’t even talk, it was a baby in a crib

Which led him back to…

“When I fantasized about being with you, I have never picture this”, he said bitterly, you turned to look at him, seriousness in your eyes

“You didn’t expect to kill my husband?, threatened my infant son? rape me? go figure”, you asked, you had become more bold as your pregnancy progressed, Aemond said it was because of the dragon inside of you, he had never been rough with you, he has been rather patient.

“I said you were mine and I was going to do anything to prove it”, of course it was your fault, perhaps if you had accepted the marriage with him in the first place, nothing would have ever happened, maybe Cregan would still be alive, “but there is no point on dwelling of what might have been”, he said, his voice plain.

It was hard to know what was going on inside his head, really

“I want to know what is happening”, you said firmly, looking back at him

“What do you mean?”, he asked

“What is going on with the war that broke out when you killed Lucerys?”, you asked firmly, he chuckled darkly

“What would you know about the intricacies of war?”, he mocked

“Is my family dead?”, you asked firmly

“If it was, do you think we would be hiding here?”, he asked

“Perhaps they all are, your brother regions on his usurped throne”, you bit back. He looked at you, analyzing your face, really wondering if he should tell you about what was going on

Perhaps if you knew Rhaenyra sat the Iron Throne, you would be persuaded to try to get away from him, perhaps you would try to escape him, knowing the blacks were winning

“i don’t know where your cunt of a cousin is, but my brother sits the Iron Throne”, he said bitterly, and you lost your attention off of him and back to look outside the window

He didn’t know if you did that because you didn’t believe him, or rather, if you did and you believed everything was lost, that you were irrevocably his

“I arranged for a short ceremony”, he said then, you turned to face him once more, frowning

“A short ceremony for what?”, you asked, angrily

“We are to be wed”, he said

“No”, you whined

“Yes”, he said firmly, your eyes filled with tears

“NO!”, you screamed, “why?”, you cried, accusing him

“You are a widow, and you are carrying my child, there is no discussion”, and his heart broke when he saw the utter despair and hate in your eyes who looked so much like his own.

more notes: is the baby Cregan's? Or Aemond's? what do you think?

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